You may have noticed that this story has new cover art! I commissioned an illustration especially for this story, and you can see the full drawing on the first chapter of Spring After Winter and Sun on the Leaves over on Archive of Our Own. I post under the same username, Moonraykir.

Chapter 21: Seeking for Answers

"So your spies turned up nothing that could point us towards a culprit?" Kíli demanded of his uncle."Damn. I was hoping—"

"Not yet," Thorin said. "We're hardly done investigating."

This evening was only a day after the tea had been discovered, and Thorin had gathered his nephews and cousin Balin to discuss what was known so far. Kíli realized it was unreasonable to expect more answers so soon, yet even that knowledge could not quell his impatience.

"Anyway, have your spies look at this list of names; see if any stand out as suspicious." Kíli flicked a piece of paper across the table. "It's everyone who's bought rustleaf in the past year."

Fíli picked up the paper. "Short list," he said, glancing over the dozen names. "I don't see anyone my wife knows. But I'll ask her anyway."

"Turns out there's only one herbalist who sells rustleaf here in Erebor," Kíli went on. "It's grown up in the East, and the one trader from Orocarni who imports it has an exclusive contract to provide foreign medicinals to Éldi's shop. If someone bought the rustleaf in Erebor, they bought it from him."

"Lady Audha is from Orocarni," Balin noted then.

"You can't imagine she would do this?" Kíli returned. "It was her choice that we broke off our courtship. I mean, I know there was a time when she hoped to become a princess, but she can't hold a grudge against Fíli or me. You know how happy she is to be Freyr's wife now."

"I'm not suggesting she'd do any intentional harm," the white-bearded dwarf answered placatingly. "But if she had any of the herb, she might have unknowingly given it to someone who did mean ill. Audha might be able to help you now; that's all I meant, lad."

"Right. Sorry. We'll ask her."

"Kíli," Thorin said, "Eliminating possibilities is still progress. We can't find the answer in a single day."

"I know," Kíli admitted. "Oh, and I do have one more trail to follow, if these clues get us nowhere. Éldi's family has another shop in the Iron Hills. If the rustleaf didn't come from Erebor, it was probably purchased there. I can inquire at the shop when I travel to the Iron Hills for the meeting next week."

His upcoming journey for a military council had been the last thing on his mind since the discovery of the tea. Kíli had already considered cancelling the visit in light of this newly discovered plot against his family, but now with the chance to expand their investigation, he was more eager than ever to go. His first priority was keeping his family safe, and that meant catching whoever was responsible for this attack.

"Good." Fíli clapped his brother on the back. "I think you're getting us somewhere, Kí."

Gossip traveled fast, as Tauriel found when she visited the market a mere two days after the first servants had been questioned about the contaminated tea. Conversations stilled as she approached and then as quickly resumed in hushed undertones. She could not stop herself from coloring; did these dwarves not realize that her keen elvish ears could still pick up nearly all that was said?

"Did you hear: she tried to drug the princess."

"Is anyone really surprised?"

"—interrogating half the palace staff when it's obvious who's responsible—"

"Of course, her husband won't believe it yet."

"—always said she had her eye on the throne—"

"What'll she do now that we're on to her?"

"I say we send her back to the Mirkwood…"

Lifting her chin, she strode on among the crowded market street, grateful for the single guard escorting her. She wasn't afraid of any bodily harm from these merchants and shoppers, but having Sigthorn, in his royal guard's uniform, pacing at her side was a reminder that she belonged here, no matter what the gossips said. If only he could protect her from the sting of unkind words.

"My lady." Sigthorn slowed, gesturing to the herbalist's shop they were about to walk past. "You wanted to stop here, I thought."

"Yes; thank you." In her focus on the need to ignore those watching her, she had forgotten where she was.

Tauriel entered the shop and ordered the oils she needed for making a new batch of her favorite healing salve. Since Kíli had shared some with an injured comrade, it had become quite popular among the guard for everything from sore muscles to cuts and bruises. She only hoped these latest rumors would not make everyone distrust a medicine prepared at her hands.

The shop was very quiet as the young apprentice filled the order. Tauriel kept her gaze focused on the neat rows of tins and bottles on the shelf before her, carefully not returning the looks of the other few customers who had stopped their shopping to stare at her.

After she had paid, and the apprentice was wrapping her purchase, someone whispered to the shop owner behind her.

"You didn't sell her the herbs she used against the princess, I hope?"

"Maker, no! I don't stock anything of that sort. Of course, I'd come forward if I had. I'd shield no traitors against the crown."

Tauriel turned to the two dwarves who had spoken and settled on them a look of cold hauteur that she supposed would have given even her own former king pause. "I am no traitor," she said. "I urge you to think carefully before suggesting that I or Prince Kíli would ever betray the king and his heir. Such words sound a great deal like treason themselves."

The shop owner blanched and began a nervous bow, but before he could straighten, Tauriel had turned and swept out of the shop. As she pushed through the crowded street, she could not see clearly where she went; faces and shopfronts all blurred together from the tears in her eyes.

It had been embarrassingly difficult these past few sennights to maintain her usual control over her feelings; it seemed even the smallest things could set off emotions that unexpectedly overwhelmed her. Was this normal for an elleth at this stage of pregnancy, or was it the influence of the half-mortal babe she carried? Kíli's own feelings were often volatile and fiery, and Tauriel supposed his son would share that trait.

She could hear Sigthorn trotting to catch up with her when someone else clasped her hand.

"Tauriel?"

She blinked and then looked aside to see Ori peering up at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," she whispered, brushing at her wet cheeks.

"Here." He handed her the tail of the knitted scarf he wore.

Tauriel smiled, warmed by the artless kindness of the gesture, and blotted at her tears with the soft wool.

"People are idiots, you know," Ori said, turning a general glare at the crowd behind them before looking back to her. "You shouldn't listen to them."

"I try not to," she said. "But your dwarvish voices carry so well."

"What? Oh." Understanding dawned on his face. "Oi!" he shouted, again addressing the crowd. "She's got much better ears than you all, so shut up! She can hear everything you say."

Tauriel laughed as the street fell silent. "Thank you."

The young dwarf blushed. "It's nothing. But you know, it's a good thing I ran into you. I've just finished knitting a last present for your little dwelfling. Would you like to come and see?"

"Yes, I would love that, Ori," she said.

"Good." He flashed her a sweet, shy smile and then caught her hand again and towed her away down the street.

The past four days had been exhausting for Sif. First there had been the shock of discovering the rustleaf itself. That was followed by all the stress of the investigation: the interrogation of the servants, the questions for herself regarding all who had been in her chambers. It was terrible to have been forced to doubt nearly everyone, even those people Sif cared for the most.

But worst of all was the fact that by now, everyone under the Mountain was talking about what had happened, or at least what they thought had happened. Sif knew Kíli and everyone else involved were being as discreet as they could, but there really wasn't any way to seek answers and keep secrets at the same time. The palace servants had been the first to talk, and every day simply added to the rumors.

Sif was so tired of being the subject of gossip, and over something very personal, too. Oh, she'd done her best to put up with it at first. It was only to be expected that people should care about Fíli's heir. But now she'd been tricked and drugged! She felt hurt, angry, violated, and even a little ashamed about what had happened to her. And the fact that apparently everyone in Erebor knew—and what was more, was ready to blame her beloved sister-in-law—made all these injuries even worse.

She had spent today with her mother, who had fended off most of her sympathetic (and curious) visitors. After tea, she came home, locked herself in her room, and had a good cry. Then she drew a bath, and between the hot water and her tired nerves, she dozed off as she lay back in the tub.

After a time, she became aware of a muffled, yet persistent pounding. She sighed and then sat up. The water was cooler now, but still pleasant. She couldn't have been asleep for long: a quarter of an hour, perhaps? She rubbed her hands over her face and yawned.

Someone was shouting from several rooms away, though she couldn't hear the words. Blessed stone, what had gone wrong now?

She got out of the bath and was drying herself when she remembered: she had locked the bedroom door. And that must be Fíli, worried because she did not answer!

Sif snatched up her dressing gown and belted it on as she ran.

As she reached the door, she could hear Fíli clearly now.

"Sif! If you're in there, open—"

She threw back the bolt and yanked the door open. There stood her husband, his brow creased and eyes wild.

He tugged her against him. "Sif, my darling," he murmured. "Thank Mahal, you're all right."

"I'm fine, Fíli." She tried to get her arms free to return his embrace, but he still held her so tightly it was impossible to move. "I was in the bath, and I fell asleep."

His hold on her relaxed. "I knocked and knocked, and you didn't answer the door," he said. "I was afraid something had happened to you."

Sif put her hands about his face, and there was a tear on his cheek. "Oh, my dearest, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just didn't hear." Her poor Fíli. With all that had happened lately, she could understand why he had feared the worst.

"It's all right. I love you." He pressed his lips to her cheek.

"How are you?" Sif asked.

"Mmm, tired. Strained. But not nearly as tired and strained as Kíli is."

"Poor Kíli! He's taking this so much to heart."

Fíli shook his head gently. "He's like that. He gives all or nothing; there's no middle ground. At least he has Tauriel to look after him." Fíli brushed Sif's face. "How are you?"

"Oh, miserable and mad at everybody." She shrugged, smiling slightly. "I feel a little better after a cry and a bath."

"Good." He followed her into the room, and she sat on the bed while he took off his surcoat and boots. Then he flopped down on the mattress next to her.

"I'm sorry I can't stop the gossip," he said. "I'd throw everyone saying foolish things into prison, but I'm afraid there'd be no-one left but you and me and Tauriel."

"What about Kíli?"

"Oh, he's said enough foolish things to deserve being locked up for life, trust me."

Sif giggled. "I think we could let him out if Tauriel promises to keep an eye on him. After all, she's been his jailor before."

"Ha! All right, my princess, if that's what you wish, I'll spare him."

"Thank you, your highness." She lay down beside him and snuggled close.

They were still for a while as Fíli stroked her hair. Silverpaw jumped up onto the bed beside them and curled up, purring, against her mistress.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Fíli said eventually. "I don't want you to feel bad about it. None of it is your fault."

"Thank you, Fíli." She knew these things, but it was still a comfort to hear him say them. "I just feel, well…violated. I mean, not permanently tainted. But, you know, sort of invaded and betrayed."

"I'm sorry." He rubbed her arm through her plush dressing gown. "I wish I could reverse this whole mess."

She sighed. "Just find the bastard who's behind this. I want to kick him in the face. It would make me feel better."

"I think that could be arranged." Fíli tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, then trailed his fingers down her neck and over her breastbone.

"Are you any closer to catching him?"

"We've followed up on everyone who bought rustleaf from the herbalist here in Erebor. I think they're all innocent. But that's good, since it means the culprit must have bought the herb in the Iron Hills. Kíli will find him when he's at the council next week. And then we'll bring him back here for you to kick."

"Good." Sif combed her fingers through his hair, then caught a braid and tickled his face with it.

He smiled. "The herbalist says it should take a month or two for the rustleaf's effects to wear off, but after that, you'll be fine."

"Mm, good." She nestled closer to him, and he pressed his hand further inside the opening of her dressing gown to trace the curve of her breast. She said, "I don't want the rest of Erebor to think I can't have your babe."

"I still don't care what the rest of Erebor thinks."

"I want to have your babe."

He kissed her. "Jealous of Kíli and Tauriel, are you?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"Ah, well, in that case, let's catch up to them, by all means." He shifted so that she was gathered beneath him and kissed her again.

"Kíli," Tauriel said after the fifth time he had rolled over in bed, "Please, be still."

"Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to bother you."

She turned over to face him, and Kíli shifted to make room for her. "Tis a challenge to sleep with our son pressing my vitals and you tossing at my back," she explained, though not unkindly.

"You're impatient for him to come?" Kíli asked.

"I confess I should like to see my toes again."

He chuckled and brushed her foot with his.

"And I miss sleeping with you snuggled against my heart," Tauriel added.

"So do I."

Kíli lay still for another few minutes. Then the sheets rustled and the mattress jostled as he turned again. "Oh, sorry," he said an instant later, sinking back into his pillow with a little moan. "I just can't stop thinking: what are we still missing in all this mess? There has to be some other clue—"

"Shh, love." Tauriel laid her hand on him. "Let it go for now. We're safe here tonight, and tomorrow there is time enough to worry over this puzzle."

He sighed, sounding more frustrated than weary to Tauriel's ears.

She stroked her hand over his back, smoothing out the wrinkles in his linen nightshirt. Then she caught the hem and tugged it up so that she could trail her fingertips over his skin.

"Kíli, I've been wondering: is it common for women to take those herbs to prevent pregnancy? I thought children were welcomed as treasures among your people, as they are among mine."

"They are."

"Then why would someone wish to prevent conception? Especially with dwarven numbers declining."

"I'm the wrong one to ask. Taur, before I married you, I never thought about this kind of thing. But, you know, sometimes it's not the right time for a babe?" he ventured. "If a couple is traveling—"

Tauriel snickered. "That didn't stop us."

"—or if they're not married," Kíli added.

Her fingers paused in their caress. Marriage and bodily union were a single concept to her, and she still struggled to understand how mortals could distinguish between the two.

"I thought you said it was dishonorable for an unmarried couple to be intimate," she returned.

"It is. If you're caught." He shrugged. "Still happens, though. Course, the worse scandal is getting an unwed girl with child."

Tauriel pressed her fingers over his back again. "Then why not marry and avoid these troubles? You said that in their lifetimes, most dwarves love only once."

"Courtship and betrothal is a long and expensive process. Some find it too long to wait. Or sometimes feuds make it impossible for a pair to be married as they wish. You know the trouble politics can cause. I'm afraid dwarves can hold grudges for a very long time." He turned over and cupped her cheek in his palm. "I understand feeling that you would do anything to be with the one you love."

Tauriel remembered the heartbroken dwarf she had left behind on Ravenhill that night when she and Kíli had met for what both had believed to be the last time. Yes, if there had been any way to take him for her own in secret, she would have wanted it, too, and considered it no shame if they could be wed in the eyes of the Valar. Yet because Kíli would have afterwards been forced into the unthinkable situation of taking a second bride while still bound to his first, not even that option had been left to them.

"Le melon, hadhodeg," she told him.

"My Thatrûna."

She smiled as he let go of her with a caress.

"Do you remember the woman who lost her way outside our quarters going to meet her lover on the day of Fíli's wedding? I wonder what was the obstacle to their marriage," Tauriel said, remembering the one time she had encountered someone taking such a desperate measure. She had been merely distressed by the idea at the time, though now she felt some sympathy for the young woman's plight.

"Huh?" Kíli yawned. "She was from the Iron Hills, wasn't she? Probably an Ironhelm in love with a Coppercrest. There's been bad blood between those families for centuries, I hear."

"Worse than between elves and dwarves?" Tauriel said as Kíli closed his eyes and nestled down into his pillow. "The poor lass."

His eyes flicked open. "Wait— That's it! She's the one!"

"Kíli?"

He caught Tauriel's hand and squeezed it. "She wasn't here to meet a lover," he insisted, his voice low but trembling with urgency. "She came here to leave the herbs in your tea."

"Are you sure?" She cast her mind back, remembering the details of that night.

"She was from the Iron Hills; I remember her accent. And we know that's where the rustleaf must have came from. It wasn't purchased here in Erebor. And the tea was here in our rooms that night. You remarked on it when I came back after showing the woman out. I remember because you said someone had been in our rooms when we were gone, and I was worried till you said it was only a delivery of some things you'd ordered."

"Yes, that's right," Tauriel confirmed. "But our door was locked; I'm sure it was."

"She could have picked it."

"And what of the seal on the tea? I checked that the wax was unbroken before I gave it to Sif. She remembers opening it."

"Oh, that could have been resealed. Nori was telling me that when he worked in imports for a while, he once swapped a whole shipment of fine brandy for inferior stuff by opening the bottles and then reheating the wax on the stoppers so that they looked untouched. If you do it right, you won't ruin the impression of the distillers signet on the wax, either."

"I see." She laughed momentarily at this reminder of their friend's less than sterling past. "But you know what that means."

"Yes," he said, his voice tight. "The rustleaf was meant for you. It makes more sense, doesn't it, to prevent us from producing an heir." He sat up, and Tauriel knew, even without watching his silhouette in the dark, that he had reached for the blade that he kept tucked just inside the bed frame. "Damn them!" he gasped. "This is the highest treason: attempted assassination upon the king's line."

"What?" She caught at his arm.

"If you'd drunk that tea early enough in your pregnancy, you could have lost our child," he growled. "I asked the herbalist all about rustleaf."

Tauriel shivered. "I think I would have known if I consumed something that would hurt me or the babe," she said. Still, it was a terrible possibility. "I don't suppose whoever did this knew I was pregnant yet. We hadn't announced it."

"It doesn't matter," Kíli said sharply.

"No," she agreed unhappily, and then without meaning to, she began to cry: tears spilled down her cheeks and silent sobs shook her.

Kíli was curled round her in a moment, his strong arms folded about her shoulders.

"Tauriel, Tauriel, amrâlimê, my Tauriel," he murmured.

"Oh, Kíli," she gasped. "How could they? Who hates us so?"

"It's all right. I won't let anyone hurt you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe!"

"Can you teach them to love your son? To remember he is Durin's heir, not some abomination to be exterminated as if he were no better than an orc? Oh, I cannot bear it." And she wept harder, clenching her fists in Kili's shirt.

"Shh, Tauriel," he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. "No-one is going to hurt our son, I promise. I'll take you back to the Greenwood, if I have to. Or Rivendell. Or— Or I'll build you a palace on the moon."

She laughed amidst her tears. "The moon?"

"You know I would." He kissed her. "Things will get better; I'm sure they will. Our little dwarf cub will have all the love he could ever need. He'll be so happy. And we will be, too."

Tauriel relaxed as Kíli's fingers worked through her hair. Gradually her tears ceased.

"I love you both," he went on. "So much. I'll do everything to give you a good home."

"Yes, Kíli," she said, grateful to rely on his optimism since she felt so little of her own at the moment. "You've always been right." He had believed they could have a life together, have a child together…

He chuckled. "Now that is something I expect few husbands get to hear. You'll spoil me."

"Perhaps. But I want you to be right."

"And I want you to be happy."

"I know, love. Annon allen."

She turned over and Kíli took his cue to press himself close against her back and wrap his arms around her.

Being held by him was such a deep, visceral comfort. Tauriel had always felt it to be so. At first, she had supposed it was merely a result of her love and the bodily attraction she felt for him as her mate. But for some time she had begun to wonder if it had something to do with the affinity Galadriel had seen in them. If Kíli was the living embodiment of the earth which she, as an elf, had been created to love, then it made sense that his touch could draw and ground her like nothing and no-one else could.

Tauriel wove her fingers through his as Kíli settled his face into the curve of her neck. His whiskers pricked her for a moment, and his breath fluttered a curl of hair against her skin.

Oh, what she had done to deserve him, she did not know. But she was meant to be with him—how could she deny it when he gave her so much?—and so somehow, this all must turn out well. She would let him hold on to that hope, and she would simply hold on to him.

She sighed and her eyes slipped shut as her breathing slowed to match Kíli's. Soon after, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest against her, Tauriel fell asleep.

Author's note:

annon allen - "thank you"

Alternate chapter title: "In which there is more Poldark-inspired domestic fanservice." I like all the little bedtime conversations between Ross and Demelza (it's like that in the books, too). It's a natural time for a couple to talk to each other, and makes good domestic fluff, too. XD

Did any of you make the connection between the tea and the mystery girl before Kili did? Everyone is under a lot of strain right now. How do you think Tauriel will hold up with Kili leaving Erebor for a few weeks to attend a council?

If you're wondering, like That Elf Girl did when she beta read this chapter, why Kili says "up in the east," it's because East is always up on Dwarf maps. I remember that detail from the first time I read The Hobbit as a kid, and I've always thought it was a cool idea.

Leave me a review and I'll send you a preview of the next chapter before it's posted!