Fíli ran his fingers along the smooth stone wall as he made his way down the darkened corridor; turning first one corner, then another, until he saw a faint golden glow ahead of him. Thrór's treasure-room, he knew, lay in that direction—but the treasure he was seeking was somewhere else, in some other chamber. And so he spun about and began walking back the way he had come.

"Where are you going?" someone asked from behind him; and he turned to look into Balin's face. The old Dwarf smiled kindly and pointed down a side-tunnel. "You are going in the wrong direction, laddie. Your room is this way, and it is well past bedtime."

"I was looking for the Arkenstone," said Fíli as Balin took him by the arm and led him down the hall. "Where is it?"

"You don't need to worry yourself about that," said Balin. "It's been a long day, and you need your rest."

They stopped outside a familiar heavy stone door, and Balin pushed it open, motioning for the younger Dwarf to enter the room before him. Fíli took a step inside, then stood fast and stared at the three intricately carved tombs at the center of the nursery. One of the tombs still lay open and empty, and on its side was carved his name.

Fíli shook his head and turned again to his old friend. "There's a mistake, Balin," he said. "This isn't where I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, well, y'see… your father wanted you to have his old room," Balin told him, smiling wider. "Now get to bed before your mother finds out about all the trouble you've been getting yourself into…"

… … … … …

Fíli's eyes flew open, and the cheerless treetops came into view above him as the nursery faded from his sight. He let himself take several deep breaths, watching them turn to fog as he gathered his thoughts, then he sat up and looked around. It was early morning now—earlier, it seemed, than he usually awoke—and the faint glow of dawn was doing little yet to chase the gloom from the clearing where the travelers had settled in for the evening.

Legolas was nowhere to be seen, though Nár was still by Fíli's side, as she had been when he had fallen asleep. When she saw him look her way, she lifted and tilted her head; and a moment later, she let out a quick breath through her nose and shifted her attention towards the nearby trees. Fíli turned that way, as well, then watched as Legolas stepped out of the darkness with three filled water-skins in his grip.

"Good morning," said Fíli flatly.

The Elf halted a few feet from the spent fire and eyed him curiously. "You are awake?"

"I suppose so," said Fíli, thinking the question rather silly, even for an Elf.

Legolas nodded, then sat down and rubbed Nár's back. "I thought that you would sleep for another hour, at least."

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't waste that hour, then," said Fíli, taking the water-skin that Legolas was holding out in offer. "The Road is waiting."

… … … … …

Fíli heard a whine and glanced down to where Nár was padding along between him and Legolas. All of her attention seemed to be on the dried meat that the Dwarf had pinched between his fingers; and when he waved it in front of her, she started wagging her tail excitedly. He pressed his lips into a tight smile, then tossed the meat onto the trail ahead of them; and Nár froze, setting her paws firmly on the ground before running on ahead and snatching it up.

"I thought you didn't like her," said the Elf, breaking the silence that had persisted for the five hours since they had begun their day's trek.

"I don't have to like her to offer her my help," said Fíli, purposely echoing the words that Legolas had said to him a week earlier. "I'm not going to let her starve, anyway."

"She would not starve," said Legolas. "But if it means anything, she appreciates the gesture. For some reason, she likes you." He gave Fíli a sidelong glance. "Though she cannot make sense of your distrust towards her."

The smile on Fíli's face grew wider as the animal came back to his side. "Are you speaking for Nár, or for yourself?"

"I just thought you might appreciate me passing on the sentiment, since you cannot understand her."

Fíli scratched above the bandage on his arm and shrugged. "You know, the Dwarves of Erebor were said to be able to speak to the Mountain Ravens in the old days," he said, trying to avoid mentioning that the sentiment was appreciated—at least somewhat. "So it isn't beyond all possibility that I might one day understand what Nár has to say."

"Beasts are not the same as birds, and understanding one does not mean that you will be able to understand the other," said Legolas. "Besides, Ravens are intelligent creatures, and it is more likely that they could speak the speech of Dwarves than that your folk could speak theirs."

"Are you implying that birds are more intelligent than Dwarves?" asked Fíli lightly.

"I didn't say that. But though your kind might hear fairly well, you don't seem to be very good at listening."

Fíli grinned and glanced to the side, and there his gaze lingered for a moment on the inky spider-webs strung between the trees just off the trail. Since the day after the warg attack, he had seen fewer and fewer webs as they had gone further west, until all signs of the spiders' presence had at last disappeared altogether; but the morning before this one the webbing had suddenly shown up again, then had grown thicker, and for a time Fíli feared they might run into the foul creatures that had spun them. Now, however, the webs seemed to again be growing more sparse and ragged.

"Why have we not seen any spiders?" he asked. "Surely they cannot all have been killed?"

"They are out there," said Legolas. "But there are not as many coming out of the south of late, and I have taken us along paths where they no longer gather."

"There is more than one path through this part of the Forest?"

"There are many, but most are known only to the Wood-elves. I assume you took the old Elven Road your first time through—at least, before your Company wandered off the track. But the one we are on now will bring us out somewhat further south than where you entered on your way east. The foothills of the mountain range that divide the Forest lie some seven leagues or so to the south of us, though I am sure you cannot see them."

Fíli looked to the left of the trail and squinted. "How could anyone see them, really?" he asked, turning his eyes ahead again. "Besides the distance, there are many trees and a deep darkness between us and them."

"At any rate, we should be to the border of the Forest in five days time," said Legolas. "And the spiders, trees, and darkness will cease to be an issue for you."

"Five days? I thought it would be at least a week."

"I had actually hoped we would be as few as three days away by now, but I hadn't taken into account your need to stop so often. Nor the length of your legs."

At this, Fíli actually let out a small laugh. "Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to be rid of my company when we get there," he said, rubbing where his pack-strap had begun digging into his shoulder. "And I'm not complaining about the lack of spiders. I've quite had my fill of them, along with everything else about this Forest."

"I suppose you are including Nár and myself," said Legolas. "Of course, if you had returned to Erebor as I had suggested, you could have at the very least arranged for traveling companions that you enjoyed being with, rather than ones you simply tolerate."

"You're giving yourself and Nár too much credit by saying that I tolerate you," said Fíli, only partly in jest.

"Regardless, you have not gone too far that you cannot still turn back."

Fíli sighed. "Perhaps. But there is really nothing for me in Erebor now."

"Nothing?" asked Legolas. "Not even the treasure that should at least in part be yours?"

The golden hoard of Thrór flashed brilliantly in Fíli's memory; and he swallowed hard as he lifted his shoulder in a small shrug. "There is a greater treasure waiting for me in Ered Luin."

Legolas gave him barely a glance before facing the path again. "Greater even than the Arkenstone?"

Heat rose in Fíli's chest and his feet stopped in mid-step. The Arkenstone. That was a subject deep and personal, and Fíli knew that he would never have mentioned it to the Elf, even in his most confused moments; and so he cautiously considered the possibility that Legolas may have only brought it up incidentally.

"Is that a topic of conversation that I have forgotten about?" he asked, forcing his expression to remain passive as he began walking again.

"Not unless you count what you have said in your sleep."

Fíli's shoulders drooped. "When was this?"

"Just this morning. Though I did not at first realize that you were not awake."

"And how could you not have realized that?" asked Fíli. "Have you never, in all your years, heard someone talking in their sleep?"

"You sat up, your eyes were open, and you were speaking as clearly as you are now," said Legolas. "Elves sleep so as a matter of course, but I did not know that Dwarves were of a kind to do such a thing."

"We're not," said Fíli, a little sharper than he'd have liked; then he doubled his right hand into a fist. "Not usually."

"I only understood the truth of the matter when I heard you address Lord Balin. Though it does now make clear to me some... confusions that I'd had when I first found you in the Forest."

"What confusions?" asked Fíli, wondering now if he had ever spoken to the Elf about anything else in the midst of his dreaming. "And what of the Arkenstone? What did I say about it?"

"You wished only to know where it was."

"And did you answer me?"

Legolas nodded. "I told you that it now lies upon Thorin's chest."

A touch of relief tempered Fíli's worry and he let his fist loosen. "I hoped that was where it would be. It meant a lot to my uncle, and it is only right that it was buried with him." He took a deep breath in an effort to clear the quavering from his voice, then looked down at his feet as they scuffed over the road-stones. "I know you weren't at the funeral, but do you know, at least, if it was Balin or Dáin that laid it in Thorin's tomb?"

"It was neither. The honor was to be Lord Bard's, but at the last moment he passed it on to your halfling friend."

Fíli smiled faintly, though his chin was beginning to shake. "I suppose, then, that Bilbo and Thorin parted in kindness, after all."

They fell silent for a moment before Legolas spoke up. "I am curious, though, why you did not choose to claim the Arkenstone for yourself."

The ache in Fíli's temple grew suddenly into a sting. "That is none of your concern," he said, rubbing his head; then he realized the turn the conversation had taken. "And who said that I had any claim over it in the first place?"

"It is the King's Jewel."

"Yes, and it was buried with him."

Legolas fixed him with a by-now-familiar stare, but Fíli simply glared back at him, no longer intimidated by the Elf's piercing blue eyes; then Legolas looked forward again and tilted his chin up.

"Fíli, Son of Náli and Dís," he said."Being In Descent From Durin I Deathless, Eldest Sister-Son And Chosen Heir Of Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain." He turned to Fíli once more. "As Lord Balin told the carvers should be written on your tomb. Chosen heir, implying that it was you who should have taken the throne after your uncle's death."

A stiffness started working its way up from Fíli's left wrist as he tensed the muscles in that arm. "Being written in stone does not make something true," he said, carefully massaging out the pain in his left hand with his right.

"If you had decided not to assume rule, then why could you not have said as much to your kin?" pressed Legolas. "Why did you leave, rather than letting your voice be heard?"

"You and I neither know nor like one another well enough to speak of that," said Fíli through his teeth. "As I am certain you do not feel inclined to tell me whether or not you look forward to assuming rule when your father is done being king."

"My father will never be done being king," said Legolas quickly.

Fíli's cheeks warmed. How, really, could Legolas ever take the throne? Thranduil could not die, after all, of old age or disease, and it was highly unlikely that he would ever meet his end in battle—and he certainly did not seem the type to abdicate.

"So what's an Elven crown prince do, then," said Fíli without giving it much thought, "living forever with so little chance of coming into succession?"

"What does a Dwarven crown prince do when he chooses to leave his kingdom behind without a word to his kin?" countered Legolas.

"He goes back to where he belongs. He goes home."

Legolas stopped walking, frowning down at Fíli as he also drew himself to a halt. "Is there no reason you would return to the Mountain?" he asked. "Is there no plea from any voice that would turn you around?"

The question was odd and abrupt; and the way the Elf's tone was turned almost to the point of threat made Fíli's ire rise.

"And whose voice would be calling for me," he snapped, "besides those that already think I'm dead and wish only for my remains to be returned?" He shifted his eyes down and away, then tightened his jaw in resolution as he looked up once more. "That, then, is your answer, Legolas—if I die before we part ways, then you may bring my body back… otherwise, I will continue west until I either reach Ered Luin or I meet my end along the Road."

The Elf squinted slightly. "You would return to Erebor only in death?"

"Death is safe," growled Fíli; then he bit down on his tongue.

At once, Legolas's eyes widened, as if something had occurred to him or a memory had been woken; then he drew one of his long knives with such swiftness that the Dwarf jumped back and let his hand fall on the pommel of his own sword. The Elf stood fast for a few seconds, staring deep into Fíli's eyes; then he turned on his heel and crouched at the edge of the trail. After brushing aside the dead leaves there, he sunk the tip of his blade into the ground; and Fíli held his breath as he stepped cautiously near. A tremble began in the Dwarf's chest as he watched Legolas carve something in the dirt, then the Elf pulled his knife out of the ground and shifted to the side.

"How do you know of this?" asked Fíli, kneeling beside him and running his fingertips along the familiar Dwarven writing that had been left in the blackened soil. "Where did you learn these runes?"

"What do they mean to you?" asked Legolas, wiping his dirty blade off on his palm.

"If you do not already know what they say, then I will not—"

"I am not asking you what the runes mean. I am asking if they hold meaning for you."

"More than you know," said Fíli, raising his voice to nearly a yell. "Now tell me where you learned them!"

Nár came up to Legolas, and he scratched her scruffy head; then he slid the knife into its sheath as he stood. "They were carved into a small stone."

Fíli pressed his hand to his throbbing temple. "And where did you find that stone?"

"I did not find it. It was entrusted to me, and I was asked to give it to you."

"Then why did you not?" demanded Fíli, rising to his feet.

"I tried to," said Legolas as he began to move down the trail once more. "You gave it back to me."

Fíli's sight fell on the runes for another moment before he rushed to catch up with the Elf, then he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a halt. "I may not remember everything that has happened since the Battle, but I am certain that I would never have—" He stopped, tightening his grip on Legolas's arm. "Who gave you the stone? Who asked you to give it to me?"

There was heavy agitation on Legolas's face, and for a long few seconds he said nothing; then he let out a breath and turned aside.

"A friend," he said simply.

Fíli's jaw went slack. "Tauriel?" he asked barely aloud; then he let go of the Elf and took a step back. "How did she die?"

"I did not say that she died," said Legolas, walking on.

"You don't need to say it," said Fíli as he fell into step beside him. "She would not have asked you to give it to me if she could have done so, herself."

"That does not mean that she died."

"Did she not?"

In his rush to keep up, Fíli stumbled over a high stone and landed on his knees on the path. The Elf continued on for a few more steps before stopping, himself; but he did not turn to Fíli, nor did he speak.

"You know that I count Tauriel among my friends," the Dwarf went on, glancing over at Nár as she came up to his side. "Do you really find it so strange that I would like to hear some word of what happened to her?"

For nearly a minute, there was still no reply; then Legolas let out a sharp breath and Fíli looked to see that he was now staring into the air between them. His lids were half-closed, and the muscles in his neck were tensed.

"You considered her to be a friend after knowing her for only a short time," he said, just loud enough for Fíli to hear. "However, she was a friend to me for many hundreds of years before she met you or any of your kin. So you will forgive me if I do not feel obligated to pass on word of her to you."

"So because I did not know her as well as you did, then I have no right to learn how—"

"Would it comfort you to hear that she did die?" asked Legolas quickly, taking a step in the Dwarf's direction.

"Would it comfort you to say it?" returned Fíli, falling back to sitting on the trail. "Or would you prefer to try and forget that it ever happened?"

Legolas shook his head slowly. "I cannot forget."

"I know," said Fíli, as gently as he was able. "But if your memories do not fade, do you really want this to be one of them? Do you want to forever remember how you refused to tell me something that you knew I needed to hear?"

For a long while, Legolas made no move; then he sighed and looked away.

Fíli's right hand began to shake, and when he could not still it, he instead pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest. "Tell me, at least, about the rune-stone," he said. "Where did she get it? How did she come to give it to you? Where is it now?" He swallowed hard. "Do I not at least have the right to learn of that?"

Legolas lowered his head in what might have either been a nod or a moment of silent thought; then he turned at last to Fíli. "I believe it may be time for a fire."