Author's Note: Hi all, hope you've had a lovely weekend! I wish to thank you for sticking with Bâhukhazâd so far, and I wish to give a special thanks to Guest45 and sakshi .narvekar8 (Is it bad that I feel partially guilty, partially proud that I managed to write such a tear jerker?) for their reviews of last week's chapter. This week's chap will mostly deal with what happened after that monumental moment – hence the title of this chapter. It is also quite long and contains a lot of different perspectives, hope you don't mind. Now, enjoy!

Chapter twenty-one: The aftermath

As the soft footsteps of their ex-guide and the Elven prince died out, a moment of silence filled the dungeons. The next, all Dwarves broke out in outrage.

'She deceived us,' Gloín cried out angrily.

'I knew it, treacherous Elf!'

'Never trust an Elf!'

Balin sighed deeply as he listened to the others. He was too old to wind himself up about it anymore. That was not to say that he shared not in their feelings; the weariness had permeated his very bones, his heart heavy with the deception.

From the start, they had known the lady Ardhoniel had not been completely open and honest with them. However, they all had their secrets and Balin had felt that if they were permitted to them, so should she be. Moreover, she had seemed like such a kind and honest lass, that he had not once considered her deception to be quite as grave.

For a long time he had observed her, and her interactions with their leader in particular – and at a certain point, had even grown to harbour hope. Hope that she would be the one to get through to him at last, the one that would melt the ice around his heart and teach him to live again. Now, Balin saw that he could not have been more wrong.
She had not just deceived them. She had falsely given them hope that this would finally be an Elf that was to be trusted, that wanted to help, and for what? Glory? She had acted without any honour – and it was exactly because of that, that the Dwarves of Erebor could not forgive her.

Not missing the uncharacteristic lack of vocality of the Dwarven leader in question in the ensuing cacophony, Balin had no doubt that this, too, was the reason behind his silence.

When Tauriel called upon her the next morning, it was with a firm yet pleading voice that Ardhoniel requested to be left alone for the day. Either by her own intuition, or by an account of last night's events no doubt gracefully provided by the Prince, Tauriel did not object and instead, told her she would inform the maids to bring her meals to the guest room.

When the footsteps of the Captain had died out, Ardhoniel fell back in her pillow, staring out of the window above the canopy bed.

She had been but a young girl when her mother, Celebrían, had passed to the Undying Lands. It had been her first taste of grief, her first realization that even Elves would not pass through the ages of the world unscathed. That first evening, Arwen had offered to stay with her, but she had declined. Instead, she had retreated to her own room – and cried until all tears had been depleted and she had drifted off into unconsciousness. It had taken her months to recover enough to return to the things that she used to love so much – yet after that first night, she had not once shed a tear again about the loss of her mother.

Today, however, it appeared that her tears would not be so quickly depleted. Her eyes felt dry, her lips chapped, and the skin of her face felt taut from the salty tracks the tears had made until late in the night. Despite all that, Ardhoniel knew more tears were to follow. Even now, as the warm sunlight peaked through the crack in her curtains and she lay in a comfortable bed, her heart ached and her eyes glazed over. A part of her had hoped that last night's events had been but a bad dream, but the familiar pendent around her neck told her otherwise.

As her hand ghosted over the oval shaped jewel, she found it felt heavier than she remembered. Now, it was no longer solely weighed down by the grief and memories of her mother, it also carried her memories – both fond and painful – of her adventures with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

Dear young Kíli, who must have picked up her necklace in the midst of battle, knowing how much the jewellery meant to her. And sweet Fíli, who had come to her all those days ago to apologise for the behaviour of his rash but well-meaning younger brother, the first of the Dwarves to make an offer of peace and even acceptation.

A fresh round of tears fell as Ardhoniel remembered each and every member of the Company, when at last her mind settled on Thorin. They had not seen eye-to-eye at first. In fact, she dare say that it was only after that terribly embarrassing moment down by the stream that she had felt that she had gained a true understanding of him. Ever since, her respect, as well as her regard for him had grown into something that she might almost call fondness.

She could only wonder where time would have stranded them. After last night, however, whatever her thoughts and feelings regarding the Dwarf had been or might have become given time hardly mattered.

Thranduil waited impatiently as one of the guards went to fetch Captain Tauriel. When she appeared, it was in the company of his son, and the King set his mouth in irritation. Legolas was loyal to her to a fault – something which might prove to be quite inconvenient in the future – and he knew that soon he would need to intervene, lest his son would get any strange ideas.

'You called for me, my Lord?'

Thranduil turned from the pair, touching his hands together as he moved to sit on his throne. 'I've been told the lady Ardhoniel did not leave her rooms for breakfast or lunch today.'

'No, my Lord.'

'Captain, please make sure our guest will join us for dinner.'

When Tauriel did not immediately respond in affirmation, Thranduil turned his eye back on her. She was not looking at him, but even from the angle of her downward-pointed face he recognized the expression of confliction.

'Well?'

'My Lord please forgive me for my impertinence, but I would not.'

'You would not?' He repeated, lifting one arched eyebrow at the Captain, his patience quickly waning.

'The lady has had a few trying days; she needs some time to recuperate, my Lord.'

'I care not. She will…-'

'Tauriel is right, father,' Legolas interrupted, his blue eyes meeting his own without reservation. Indeed, he might need to intervene very soon… 'She is our guest, and as such is permitted to stay in her room if she pleases. If you wanted her to obey your every word, you should have locked her up in the dungeons with the Dwarves.' His courage faltering, Legolas bowed his head. 'Besides, has she not done exactly what you wanted already? Her visit with the Dwarves went just as you predicted and she knows they do not care for her any longer; if she has anything to tell you she will. In her own time.'

Thranduil narrowed his eyes on his son's face, then on Tauriel's, considering their words. Perhaps there was some merit in waiting…

That evening, Tauriel was on her way back to her rooms, having finished all of her duties for the day. That morning, she had been denied entry by the lady Ardhoniel. Later, at the shooting range, she has learned the reason for this from Legolas, who had relayed the events of the prior night to her with a frown marring his face. She had learned of the lady's deception of the Dwarves, the Dwarves' reaction – and of the role his father had had in playing them out against each other. Then, in the afternoon, Thranduil had called on her once again, intending to send her out to the lady like a chess piece on a board.

All who knew her, knew that despite her regular differences with Thranduil, the Captain was loyal to her King and to her people. Now, however, Tauriel could not help but feel profusely shamed and revolted by her King's behaviour. Of course, both the lady and the Dwarves had played their own part – and would most likely have even without the interference of the Elven King – but she was abhorred by his evident enjoyment of the situation.

She did not know when her feet decided on a change of destination, but when she looked up from the floor – and her thoughts – Tauriel found herself once again descending the stairs into the dungeons.

As a secluded Kingdom, far removed from any other civilization, it was a rare occasion for the dungeons of King Thranduil to be in use. Indeed, in all her years, Tauriel couldn't remember one such occasion. After all, both Orcs and spiders did not exactly lend themselves to imprisonment. Now, they suddenly had not one, but thirteen prisoners, and she had found herself down there more times than she cared for.

'Captain Tauriel,' the guard on duty addressed her in a surprised tone as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She recognised him to be one of the newer guards, Túven.

She bowed her head in greeting. 'Good evening. You are on evening shift, I assume?'

'Yes, Celechon will relieve me in two hours.'

Quite without knowing why she did it – which was a rarity for the Captain, for usually she did nothing without giving it extensive thought – she found herself saying, 'I will take it from here; you are dismissed.'

The young Ellon lingered for a bit, unsure of what to do. Then, after deciding it was not up to him to question such a direct order from his Captain, he nodded and handed her the keyring. 'Good night, Captain.'

Attaching the keyring to her belt, Tauriel made the mandatory round past the cells to check whether all prisoners were accounted for, absent-mindedly. Then, she sat herself down on the bottom step of the stairs with a weary sigh.

In all honesty, she had no idea why she had come here tonight. The lady Ardhoniel had not asked her to do so – nor did she expect her to ever ask again – and Tauriel had little business here herself. Yet, she felt that the Dwarves locked in the dungeon may be the key to her strange behaviour as of late.

In all her years as Captain of the Guard, and even before that, she had never truly seen eye-to-eye with King Thranduil, their characters and opinions too vastly different to mesh well. However, Tauriel had known her place and had, regardless of her own thoughts or feelings, always executed her orders without hesitation. But ever since the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had landed themselves on their doorstep, she had found herself starting to do exactly that.

She did not understand the Dwarves in the dungeon, nor their Elven friend currently residing in one of the guest room. However, Tauriel was a proficient reader of character, and having spent many hours in the company of the lady Ardhoniel, she had found she could not think badly of the Elleth. In fact, she had found she enjoyed the directness in the lady's manner of conduct, for it was a breath of fresh air when one was used to the intricate and often confusing plays of power that dominated the intercourse in the court of Thranduil.

Tauriel did not know where that conclusion left her.

Ardhoniel was once again back in the dungeons. However, the torches on the wall were unlit, and the small beam of moonlight that illuminated her surroundings cast long shadows in front of her. Where the last time the dungeons had been filled with the soft sounds of life, they were now eerily quiet and cold. She took a step towards the closest cell to her left, grabbing the bars tightly as she peered into the darkness within. Nothing. There was no one.

Her heart beat picked up as she moved to the next, finding it similarly empty. Where were they? Had the Dwarves escaped without her? Panicking, she rushed over to the fourth cell on her right hand. Pushing herself up against the cold steel of the cell bars, her stomach dropped as she realized Thorin, too, was gone.

A firm hand grasped her shoulder, and she jerked awake.

Ardhoniel sat up in her bed, breath coming out in pants and heart pounding, as all remnants of the dream fled her memory. The moon was out, bathing the room in its pale light, and the Elleth's eyes darted around the secluded bedroom area to ascertain she was still alone. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment and forced her heart to calm down. When she reopened her eyes, Ardhoniel found herself suddenly not as alone anymore.

'Bilbo!'

'Shh,' he cried, holding his hands up in an attempt to placate her. He looked around him, as if one of the guards may just appear out of thin air at the commotion. When she did not make any other sounds, he slowly inched closer to the bed.

Being completely honest, Ardhoniel found herself having to admit that she had quite forgotten about the poor Hobbit. Now as she assessed him, she was glad to note that he seemed all right – if a bit dirty. When she patted the bed, he dropped himself on the edge with a deep sigh.

'Are you all right, Bilbo?' Ardhoniel inquired gently, when the Hobbit made no sign of speaking.

'Pardon?' Bilbo scratched his brown curls, which were matted with dirt and spider webs. 'Oh yes, quite all right, thank you.' He lapsed into another silence, when he frowned suddenly. 'In fact, no, I'm not all right! I've been sneaking around this place for days! Haven't had a bite to eat, not a wink of sleep. Blasted Elves never seem to rest…' His ears reddened a little at this, as if only now realising what he'd said. 'Ah, I am sorry, that was…'

'Not at all, dear Bilbo.' Just then, a thought occurred to the Elleth and she slipped from beneath the covers. Poor Bilbo did not even make an attempt to look away as she made her way to the living area in nothing but her nightdress, so tired was he! A moment later, the Elleth re-emerged, carrying a tray of cold, but otherwise completely perfect food. 'Here, they brought me this for dinner; I'm afraid I wasn't very hungry. It would be a shame to have it go to waste.'

The Hobbit's good manners lasted for all but two seconds, before his resolve broke and he tucked into the food bare-handed with much relish – and little care for his table manners. When he had finished the last of the dinner, Bilbo looked up to find that Ardhoniel had tied a dressing gown over her nightdress and had sat herself next to him.

'I followed the Dwarves to the dungeons the first day we got here,' Bilbo explained, feeling a little more like himself now his stomach was filled. 'It was more difficult to find you and when I did, to contact you. Do you know they have guards at your door at all times?'

This latter news hardly surprised Ardhoniel, for she knew Thranduil did not trust her. However, what interested her more was the former bit of news. Did the Dwarves know Bilbo was still free? And more importantly, had he spoken to them? She bit her tongue instead, nodding along as the Hobbit started another (silent!) tirade about the Elves of Mirkwood.

'I've been trying to think of ways of getting us out of here, but so far haven't been able to come up with anything useful I'm afraid. If only Gandalf was here…' He yawned, rubbing at his tired eyes – an action which did not escape the Elleth.

'Get some sleep, my dear Bilbo, you've more than earned it,' she smiled at him, gesturing at the bed.

'But, we… the escape…'

'Can wait until the morning.'

Bilbo looked at the bed conflictedly, then at her. 'But… what about you? Where will you sleep?'

'I will not be getting any sleep tonight anyway. But do not worry, we Elves do not require as much sleep as you, and I can easily do with a little less.' Bilbo made another, half-hearted attempt at refusing the offer as she stood from the bed, but she shook her head. 'Sleep, dear Bilbo. I will make sure no one disturbs your slumber.'

And so it was that Bilbo, exhausted and more than a little dirty, climbed under the soft covers of the canopy bed. If he had any more energy to spare, he may have wondered at the sheer size of the bed, the softness of the linen, or perhaps of the last time he had ever been so comfortable. Instead, the Hobbit fell asleep even before his head hit the pillow.