I do not own anything written by J.R.R. Tolkien or in Peter Jackson's movies, and anything Araceil came up with in Fate be Changed belongs to her.

Thorin, still weak from the Spiders' poison and the blood loss from having the eggs carved out of him, stumbled along through the darkening forest, torn between fury and worry. Fury at the Elves; at being captured by Elves; at the fact that he owed his life to Elves, along with the lives of the rest of his Company besides Sakura. Fate had been playing with them since they'd arrived at Bag End, and while he was grateful for the addition of Sakura to the Company (as much as it pained him to say it — she really was too young whatever her experiences growing up) and Beorn's help had been most welcome, between Trolls and Orcs and Elves and Orcs again and the Forest and Spiders and now Elves again — all before even seeing their lost home — he had to wonder just Who was playing with them for Its own amusement. But for the worry ...

He glanced sideways at their burglar and stumbled forward again when his foot caught on a barely visible tree root. Thanks to his hands being bound behind his back, only a hasty grab at his shoulder by one of the Elves kept him from planting his face in the leafy carpet. (When the light had begun to dim with the approaching night, the Elf in charge had ordered that their prisoners be bound to prevent escape attempts, exempting only Sakura when the Dwarves had loudly demanded that she be left alone.)

The Elf that had caught him — Tauriel? The one that had helped cut them free from the webs, then carved the eggs out of their guts, anyway — also glanced toward Sakura. She had been doing that more and more as the day wore on and Thorin could understand why, or at least why he had been doing so (though he couldn't see why the Elf would care). Despite dull, dirty hair and slightly pasty complexion, for a time that childlike beauty that had so stunned him back at Bag End had returned with the energy that had filled her as she cut the Dwarves free of the webbing and ushered them away from the mostly-ended fighting, had tended to them as Tauriel had wielded her knife. But as the march had gone on, that animating energy had faded and her gaze had turned inward until Thorin had to wonder how she was watching where she was going.

"What's wrong with her?"

At the whispered question Thorin glanced up at Tauriel then away, ignoring the concern that the Elf had pasted on her face. "She's ... been ill." Good, a non-answer answer Balin could be proud of.

"So why isn't one of you carrying her?"

Thorin looked up again, glowering, then hastily returned his gaze to the ground again when his foot bounced off a rock. "You mean, besides the fact that our hands are tied behind our backs? She has her pride. But we were carrying her for awhile."

"I see. Well, then ..." Without warning, the Elf twisted, caught Sakura by the wrists, and swung her up and around to settle on her back with an arm over each shoulder.

"Hey, what are you doing!? Put me down!"

"My apologies, but you were beginning to slow us down," Tauriel nonchalantly replied. "Remember, we want to reach home by nightfall."

Sakura grumbled something undoubtedly rude under her breath (at least for Thorin, he suspected the Elf heard it just fine), but to his surprise didn't make any further objections, simply wrapping her legs around the Elf's waist as best she could. He exchanged glances with Balin on his other side before returning his attention to the forest floor in front of him: if Sakura wasn't complaining about being coddled, she was even worse off than he feared and had simply been hiding it well. He sent up a silent prayer: Please, these are Elves — wherever we're heading, let it be protected from whatever is affecting her.

/\

Sakura knew the instant the party crossed into the corner of Mirkwood the Woodland Elves claimed as their own, between one heartbeat and the next oppressive miasma seeping into her soul vanished.

She sagged with relief for a few moments as she luxuriated in its absence, before finally whispering (out of concern for 'shouting' with her mouth right next to Tauriel's ear), "You can put me down, now." Then when Tauriel failed to react, she began pulling on the hands gripping her wrists. "I said, you can put me down now!"

Tauriel winced at the shout. "If you're sure..." She let go of one hand and swung the Hobbit around and down.

Sakura stumbled slightly on landing, but recovered before the Elf could catch her and strode along. She caught the Dwarves' relieved glances, but was too busy luxuriating in the cleansing feeling that had swept through her — she'd only thought the curse was gone above the forest but she'd been wrong and now she felt so light and clear she was sure a breeze would blow her away, that she could step into shadow and vanish from sight. She was so giddy she failed to note the bemused glances from the Elves around her.

She didn't even notice when they crossed a narrow bridge over a rushing river.

She did notice, though, when the dim sunlight vanished with the closing of the massive doors behind them, to be replaced by torches. And she definitely noticed the new ... one couldn't really call it a bridge, more like a meandering path that only occasionally made contact with the ground — and just as occasionally crossed over more rivers. Or the same river meandering as much as their path, perhaps. She didn't care, she just edged her way to the absolute center of the path and kept her gaze fixed at eye-level (for her) or higher — well away from all the deep wetness they were walking over.

She had to admit that in its own way, this new Elven realm was as impressive as Rivendell. It did lack the feeling of peace that had hung over that valley, though from what Arwen had said that was Elrond's doing, somehow. And being underground it lacked the tamely wild open gardens.

But the Elves of Mirkwood had compensated by huge windows letting in beams of sunlight; plants growing all over in whatever patch of soil that sunlight bathed, bushes and vines, even an occasional small tree (though probably huge examples of her mother's bonsai trees, considering the limited space for growing); and the roots of the trees above exposed and polished to form a half-natural form of art just like at Bag End, if on a much vaster scale (her breath hitched for a moment at the memory of the memory of that homey Hobbit hole, before she pushed it aside). And as at Rivendell every wall and pillar was carved, though where Rivendell's carvings meshed with and complemented the trees and plant growth that filled it, here the carvings replaced them.

And as at Rivendell, this underground realm of soft browns and greens was alive in a way that most of the world was not, even if not in the same way as the Shire.

Finally, Sakura pulled her attention away from her surroundings and looked up at Tauriel. "So where are we going?"

The Elf glanced down at her and smiled briefly. "We sent word ahead of our arrival, and the king has required your presence."

"Oh." Sakura hadn't noticed any of the Elves running ahead, but she'd been pretty out of it for awhile...

The dimming sunlight vanished as they passed through another massive set of doors into an equally massive torchlit room — a flat-topped stone spur, rather, thrust out into a huge cavern, the barely-visible rough stone walls beyond a steep drop into unknown depths. Though there were pillars aplenty for the torches' sconces, broad pillars carved like trees with the sconces like branches arcing away and up. Torches, she noted, that were burning cleanly and brighter than she would have expected. She glanced up but couldn't see the ceiling, to tell how smoke-stained it might be. Not very, I'll bet. They must have some way of treating the wood. I wonder if the Dwarves know it.

Then she caught sight of the tall Elf waiting for them, standing beside a carved and silver- and gem-inlaid throne, and she put aside all thoughts about taking that method back to the Shire to focus on the Now. Showtime.

/\

Thorin had been relieved at first, when Sakura had so miraculously revived — to the point he had been half-expecting a 'No!' at any time (though about what at the moment, he couldn't exactly imagine). But when the doors to the Elven caverns slammed closed his worry returned, and when the female Elf said the king had demanded their presence that worry transformed into deep, burning anger. He remembered Tranduil ... oh, he remembered him….

Then they entered into the king's presence and Thorin fought to keep from throwing himself at that hated figure, the fight so intense he barely noticed the other male Elf dressed in the same brown and green leathers as their captors, until Thranduil leaned over and quietly said in the other Elf's ear, "Mirthalorn, is that a Hobbit, as you thuoght?"

"Yes, my lord," the Elf replied as quietly as his king, "I was right — one of the small folk that live along the road between Gray Havens and the Misty Mountains such as I saw when I wandered that way several centuries ago."

The king nodded acknowledgment, and Thorin's anger was swept away by a wave of fear for their burglar. Don't be a fool, he's simply interested in the oddity of a people he's never seen before. To him there is nothing special about Sakura beyond that, and a way to shake you up. Why else would they be speaking Westron? For a moment he had to keep his glower from turning into a totally inappropriate grin—before she'd once again sunk into the daze that had scared them so badly, she'd told the Dwarves how she'd come to be the one cutting them down … both taking down the Spider (which she'd tossed off as 'a lucky shot' and none of the Dwarves believed her), and leading the Elves to the Spiders' nest. Slid between his legs, indeed!

Then Thranduil stalked forward, and any urge to grin vanished.

The Elf king hadn't changed at all in the decades since Thorin had last seen him, though now he was dressed in a silk red and orange robe that shimmered in the torch light, and over long platinum-blond hair a crown of a curved branch with upthrusting spiked shoots around which twined yellow- and red-leaved vines. The last time, the King had been armed and armored with an army at his back. When Thorin's grandfather had begged for aid for his newly homeless and suffering people.

No, Thorin had no urge to grin at all.

The leader of the Elven scouts stepped forward to offer Orcrist to his father. "They were carrying this. The ... Hobbit" — he nodded toward Sakura — "claimed that Mithrandir now bears Glamdring, discovered at the same time in a Troll hole."

Thranduil accepted the sword and examined it, his eyebrows lifting. "Indeed, so Mithrandir is playing another game." He handed Orcrist back to his son and turned to the prisoners, his gaze falling on Thorin. "A game with the lives of my people as tokens." He stepped forward, and Thorin stepped away from the rest of the Company to meet him.

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand, a quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon," Thranduil mused as he circled Thorin. "I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive — an attempt at burglary for something of value. You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure." He stopped, loomed over the Dwarf king. "I understand that, there are gems in the Mountain that I, too, desire — white gems, of pure starlight. I offer you my help."

Thorin remembered those gems, and the way his grandfather had taunted the Elven king — showing them to him then refusing to even consider negotiations for handing them over. He had been shocked at the time, confused, wondering why Thror would do something so stupid, to so insult a neighboring monarch. After Erebor's fall he realized it was one of the first signs of Thror's growing madness. But that was no excuse for what had followed, and he struggled to keep his face expressionless as he responded. "I am listening."

"I will let you go, if you will but return what is mine."

"A favor for a favor."

Yes." Thranduil placed a hand over his heart and regally inclined his head. "You have my word. One king to another."

Ignoring Balin's pleading look, Thorin growled, "I would not trust Thranduil, the Great King, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us." Finally losing his fight with the rage that filled him, he shouted, "You lack all honor! I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people, the inferno that destroyed us!"

Thranduil blanched at the accusation, then stepped forward and leaned down face to face with Thorin. He snarled, "Do not speak to me of dragon fire! I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the Great Serpents of the North." For a moment, the smooth lines of Thranduil's face wavered, and Thorin's eyes widened as the skin of the left side of the Elf king's face seemed to pull away to leave bare strands over exposed teeth clenched in anger, the eye above them a milky white.

But the next moment Thranduil's face was again unblemished. He straightened and stepped away from the prisoners, returning to his throne and the scout that had told him of Hobbits. Seating himself, he coolly continued, "I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen. You are just like him. So stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the eyes of an Elf — I am patient, I can wait." He waved one hand to the scouts. "Take them to the dungeon."

Thorin turned to go, self-righteously ignoring Balin's crestfallen expression, only to freeze at the Elf king's next words: "Except the Hobbit, she will remain. Tauriel, stay so that you may escort her to the dungeon when we are finished."

He whirled back around, his shouted objection lost in those of the rest of the Dwarves, only for Sakura to yell, "Quiet!" The Dwarves fell silent, and she grinned at them. "Hey, it's great that you all worry about me, but I'll be fine. We'll see each other again in no time."

Thorin opened his mouth to object to her cavalierly tossing away their concerns, but paused. That grin had a strong impish edge to it ... a grin disturbingly similar to the one that Kili had used to sport when he was a child, and had just pulled a prank that no one knew about yet... Our burglar. The sneakiest member of the Company, not even Nori could match her. He found himself saying, "Of course, if anyone in the Company can take care of himself, it is you."

"Hey, watch your pronouns!"

Thorin surprised himself with a sharp bark of laughter, and turned away toward the once again open doors through which they had entered.

/\

Tauriel watched Sakura as the Hobbit watched the Dwarves file out on the way to their cells, quietly impressed by her demeanor. With her friends gone she was alone with her captors, beings over twice her height, warriors with millennia of experience, one of them one of the Powers of the West. And yet she was as calm as if she stood in her own home, the only sign of emotion a slight smile.

Then the doors again slammed closed, and the smile vanished from her face as she turned to face Thranduil and spoke in the Quenya of the Noldor she had used in the forest, the language of poetry and ritual that (now that Tauriel wasn't on patrol of fighting Spiders and not half-focused on her surroundings) seemed so odd in that childlike voice and foreign accent. "So you are the reason that Thorin hates Elves so much."

The other Elves stiffened, stunned at both the lèse-majesté the Hobbit committed by speaking first and at the raw contempt in her voice.

The king, too, had stiffened, but he forced himself to relax and waved away the statement with a condescending smile. (And Tauriel had to admit, as filthy as she was, the little Hobbit was positively cute ... like an Elfling stamping her feet because her parents wouldn't let her have her way.) Leaning back in his throne, Thranduil replied, "You know not of what you speak, child. I am a king, and as king my duty lies with my people."

"Yes, well, if the only place you're willing to fight is your own front yard, then that is where the fight will be. This time your 'duty to your people' left you with a dragon sleeping on your doorstep, so you may get the chance to get reacquainted with dragon fire. And we mayflies might be a mere blink of the eye to you — well, two blinks for Dwarves, I guess — but we remember, and pass those memories on to our children. If a thousand years from now Dwarves are killing Elves in the name of the women and children you abandoned to die in the wilderness ..." She shrugged. "... your people will know who to blame."

Then her glare abruptly vanished into an impish grin that instantly had Tauriel worried. "Wow, that feels good to get that off my chest. And now that I have ..." She bowed, straightened. "I bid you farewell."

Before Sakura had finished speaking Tauriel bound toward her, but the tiny redhead spun in place and dove behind one of the torch-bearing tree-carved pillars along the edge of the chasm. Tauriel threw herself forward, caught an outthrust sconce, swung around ... no Hobbit.

Instantly dropping to one knee and with hand braced on the floor, Tauriel leaned over the edge, her Elf-sharp gaze sweeping the shadows covering the bare rock wall below her ... no Hobbit.

As Mirthalorn joined her, she rose to her feet, looking up the pillar, past the torches to the bundle of faux-branches at its top ... no Hobbit. "Mirthalorn, Hobbits can't fly or become invisible, can they?" Either would explain how Sakura had gotten across the Spider nest and up the tree where her friends had been strung up like so much low-hanging fruit without Tauriel noticing —

"No, they're masters of stealth and you don't want to be a bird in their garden when one stoops for a stone, but that's it," he replied absentmindedly as his own gaze swept over the pillar, before he dropped to one knee to repeat her own examination of the chasm.

"Then where is she!?"

"I don't know." He rose to his feet, and the two scouts nervously turned to face their scowling king as he strode toward them.

/\

As the throne room finally fell silent Sakura relaxed and opened her eyes, then bit back a hiss and wiped her brow as sweat dribbled into her eyes ... moving slowly, to avoid catching the eye of anyone that might have stayed behind to play possum.

She really hadn't been sure that would work, climbing the pillar as soon as she was out of sight, and drawing the Veil about her. Certainly, it had worked against a distracted Gandalf and Radagast, but these were Elves, able to count the feathers of a soaring raptor ... and more, Elves actually looking for her!

Well, apparently being able to pick out details at half a mile doesn't mean your mind can't be clouded as much as anyone else's. I hope. She carefully turned about on the pillar, carefully to make sure her backpack didn't catch on any of the 'branches', and peered through the 'branches' to look over the dimming throne room — dimming, because with the room empty the torches were guttering out one by one.

Empty.

She slumped, relief washing over her. She'd done it. She'd done it! So now, she just needed to find the dungeons, find where their equipment had been stashed, find more supplies, find a way out other than the front doors (magically locked, as Thranduil had stated when the first search for her had failed — somewhat loudly and in Quenya rather than the Sindarin the other searching Elves had been speaking), find a way to get all of the first tasks to the last task without being caught...

She lifted an arm and sniffed her sleeve, and grimaced. But first, I need to clean up and wash my clothes. What's the point of being tucked out of sight if they can smell your presence? Sure, the Veil would hide the stench as well, but why make it work harder than it had to? Besides, smells linger. Let's, see, I should still have some soap in my pack. For water ... Closing her eyes, she held her breath, listened ... and as she'd hoped could barely hear burbling water from the chasm beside her. She shuddered. That water was going to be cold.