Thirty Six

The dwarves were ushered inside and a healer sent for, bedclothes brought and fires laid. Soon the guest wing was looking quite cozy, and the sounds and smells of hurried cooking came from the kitchen at the other end of the hall. Oin accepted the human healer's help ungraciously as Fili and Ori laid the injured dwarf on the table in the main room, where there was the most light. The point of that arrow needed to come out, and come out now.

The door opened again and a tall, red-haired figure in flowing elvish clothes entered. Tauriel's face went, if possible, paler than normal when she saw the exposed, inflamed wound.

"Let me help." It wasn't an offer. It wasn't a demand. It was a plea, and Oin was hard-put to deny her when those green eyes were so full of remorse and something that looked like fear.

"Would that the lad were awake to see ya," he said, escorting her to Kili's bedside and dismissing the human healer with an irritated gesture. "That'd liven him up in a hurry, I warrant."

In one of the largest suites of the guest chambers, Thorin enlisted Ori's help to get Billa into some fresh, dry clothes (ducking out during the process, naturally). They'd belonged to a child, it seemed. The jacket she wore was faded blue velvet with wool trim, and they'd had to roll up the sleeves to fit her. Ori quickly fetched a mug of hot, spiced wine from the kitchens while Thorin silently wound Billa in a thick blanket and helped her into an oversized chair by the fire.

"Here's the wine," said Ori shyly, pressing the steaming cup into the miserable hobbit's trembling hands.

"That will do," said Thorin, nodding. "Now run and see about Kili, and report back to me." Ori moved off, leaving Thorin and Billa alone beside the crackling warmth.

Billa's hands shook so she was in danger of spilling the mug's contents. She couldn't seem to stop shivering to save her life. Raising the cup to her lips, she managed to take a sip without making too much of a mess. Honestly, the halfling was so tired, so cold, and so very miserable that she felt liable to burst into tears at any second. Of course, rather than crying, she started to sneeze instead, which quite spoiled her efforts not to spill wine all over the blankets that covered her.

Thorin shook his head, feeling on the one hand uncomfortable being relegated to the role of a nurse-maid, and on the other, pleased to be with her, to aid her in whatever capacity she needed. He retrieved a towel and quickly dabbed up some of the warm liquid she'd dumped down herself.

"You need rest," he said firmly. "I'll help you to bed." Taking the mostly-spilled wine from Billa, he set it on the mantlepiece and scooped the halfling up again, gently, drawing back the covers of the freshly made bed, removing the damp blanket, and resting her on the clean sheets. He pulled the comforter over her, tucking it in carefully. "I'll have Oin in to see you soon. Don't try to get up, or he'll probably work himself into a fine mood."

Billa watched him, her large hazel eyes bleary with exhaustion and what may have been a fever. Had she been a little less miserable, she might have told him that for hobbits, this was fairly normal. When they got sick, they got sick fast and hard, then recovered within a day or two. But her muddled brain refused to produce the thought that Thorin may not know this. So instead, she watched him, wishing he wouldn't go, wishing he would lie beside her again. He was very warm.

Tauriel worked quickly. With Oin's help, the point of the arrow was removed and the ugly wound cleansed. She didn't look at the old healer as he inspected the arrow, nor as he turned his gaze on her, but she knew that her guilt was written all over her face.

"The arrow came from my bow." She confirmed his silent accusation as she treated Kili's bleeding leg with herbs she'd brought with her. "If I hadn't... then he would have been killed."

Fili gave her a horrified glance, but honestly wasn't sure whether to thank her or challenge her for injuring his brother. The blond was distracted by Ori's nervous approach, and stepped away from the table to meet her.

"The elf is helping us," he said quietly. "I don't presume to know why."

Ori glanced fearfully between Kili and the elf. Though Tauriel's voice had been quiet, she'd overheard.

"Fili..." Ori whispered, hiding in her new, oversized jacket. "Is... is he going to be alright?"

Fili swallowed the lump in his throat, or at least, he tried to. With a somewhat painful effort, he tore his eyes away from his brother. "I hope so. Not a fatal shot, so... he should recover." It sounded rather like the blond dwarf was trying to convince himself.

Oin was wafting a bowl of near-boiling mint water beneath Kili's nose in hopes of bringing him around. Kili stirred as the pungent scent entered his nostrils, clenching his hands and moaning fitfully, face drawn with pain. His eyelids fluttered.

Looking at Ori, Fili realized for the first time that she didn't seem to be wet anymore. Then he looked down at himself, in his damp, chilled clothes and boots that squished unpleasantly with every step. But before he could follow through with the vague concept of drying off, he heard Kili's quiet moans. Turning hastily, Fili was back at his brother's side in a trice, peering worriedly into his face.

"Kee..."

Tauriel steadied herself, inhaling the warm, minty scent as she tied off the neat, white bandages around Kili's leg. She couldn't stop the faint smile that flickered across her face, though. He was coming around. Slowly. She smoothed the bandages fastidiously, then glanced at Fili.

"You'll want to get into some dry things. He needs rest, but he's out of danger for now."

Fili nodded slightly. He wasn't willing to question her just yet.

Kili settled into what Oin noted was a "natural sleep," and Fili assisted the healer in changing his brother into some clean, dry clothes the Lake Men had provided (while Ori and Tauriel stepped out, briefly). Afterward, Ori retrieved a basin and washed, dried, and combed Kili's sweat-soaked hair, glad for something to do besides standing by, fretting. They had done all they could do for him now.

"Oh." Ori bit her lip, looking contrite. "I forgot I was supposed to report back to Thorin." She turned to Fili, sheepishly. "Think he'll be upset with me?"

Thorin clasped his hands behind him and paced over to the hearth. "I'll stay with you until Oin gets here, make sure you don't run off." He smiled faintly. It was unclear to him why his spirits were so light now, considering all that had happened and all he knew lay before him. Perhaps it was because, despite all other considerations, here in this place, the Company would have its first true respite since Rivendell. It seemed so long ago now- ages ago. A hazy, pleasant memory.

They'd made it this far, against all hopes- nearly to the doorstep of the Mountain- and once they were rested, they'd have just enough time to find the hidden door before Durin's Day was ended. All things being what they were… they had been very, very fortunate. The lion's share of that good fortune, he knew, was lying in the bed behind him, swaddled in blankets.

After a few minutes of staring drowsily into the flames, Thorin was pulled from his reverie by the distinctive chattering of teeth. He turned. Billa seemed to be asleep (perhaps what little she'd had of the wine had helped with that), but she was shivering such that her entire body shook. Maybe the bed was too far from the fire. Thorin paused, surprised by the impulse that leapt to the forefront of his mind. He could think of one way to warm her in a hurry; it had certainly relaxed her in the crawlspace of the barge. But the impression Oin might take when he arrived and found them in bed together gave Thorin pause. However chaste it might be, and however necessary, there was always going to be a certain stigma associated with male-female bed sharing.

She sneezed again, and it was followed with a violent, choking cough. That made up Thorin's mind fairly quickly. He closed the door and noted that it had no lock. This made the dwarf pause again, but Billa's coughs seemed to be getting worse. He firmed his resolve, paced back to the bed and reclined gently beside her, on top of the covers. It was a large bed, especially by Hobbit standards, so he didn't have to move her but a little to ensure he wouldn't slip off the edge.

Her skin was very warm, he noted immediately, which worried him, but he felt that her shivering had lessened almost immediately, so his body warmth must've had some positive effect. Or was it his presence itself? Both? He couldn't decide. All he knew was that the same sense of well-being washed over him as he'd felt in the barge. She needed him, and he was content to be by her side.

Fili glanced at the door his uncle had disappeared through with the halfling earlier. With a sigh, he gestured at it. "Come on, I'll go with you. Only fair, since I was the one distracting you." He shot a glance at the door of his brother's room. Fili seemed more relaxed now that Kili wasn't in immediate danger, but tension didn't fade as quickly as he wished it would. And... his gaze flicked to Tauriel, who was sitting in the corner, waiting to speak with Thorin.

"Come on." He clearly thought it best to warn his uncle himself. Ushering Ori through the door, he froze.

His uncle was in bed with the hobbit. Not under the covers, but still... Fili cleared his throat and glanced at Ori. "You wanted to be updated on Kili's condition?" he asked, perhaps not as loud as he might have, given that the halfling was clearly asleep. Billa was nestled under Thorin's arm, snoring squeakily and looking flushed, but at least she didn't seem to be as uncomfortable as she had been earlier.

Thorin leapt up from the bed too quickly, nearly falling over sideways in the process.

"F- Fili," he stammered out groggily, rubbing the side of his face a little, his gaze flicking embarrassedly from Fili back to Ori, who was hiding behind the blond. Both of them looked rather embarrassed, too. Maybe a little scandalized, but he might have been reading that into their expressions.

"Yes," Thorin continued, coughing forcefully into his fist, a gesture meant to indicate he was more business-like now. Whether it succeeded or not was unclear. "Will he be alright? Did he wake?" He stole a furtive look back at Billa, and he thought for an instant her eyes had been open, but snapped shut the instant she saw him looking at her. Maybe that was his imagination, too. It seemed to be very active today.

Fili nodded slightly, avoiding looking directly at his uncle and inspecting Thorin's boots instead. "Oin woke him." For a moment, he shifted uncomfortably, aware of Ori's hands wrapped around his, since his hands were behind his back and so was she. He took a breath, remembering why he'd come in here. "Um... the elf captain is here. She treated his wound. And... she said that she was the one that shot him."

Thorin frowned, looking for all the world like he was trying to puzzle out some incomprehensible riddle. "She... shot him? She shot him? Then why would she...?" Had it been some kind of mistake and she'd regretted it afterward? Or was there some craftier, hidden motive?

He strode out of the room, glancing back at the sleeping halfling as if to remind himself she wasn't going to vanish, and shutting the door behind him.

Tauriel was standing now, waiting patiently, her arms folded. Thorin felt several very conflicting compulsions, the most prominent of which was to demand she leave. But the reasons behind what she'd done intrigued him enough that he resolved, at least, to hear her out before he sent her away.

"What do you have to say?" he asked, staring darkly up at her. There was much less anger in his voice than he'd expected there to be.

Tauriel waited until he was standing still in front of her, then did something that, several days before, she may have thought entirely unwise. However, she took one step back, and lowered herself to one knee. She would have had to look up at him if she wanted to meet his gaze, but instead of doing so, she kept her head lowered respectfully. All other activity in that room absolutely ceased, each dwarf certainly just as startled as their king.

"My lord," Tauriel said in a soft, grave voice, "it was I that released the arrow that struck down thy nephew. Though it were less than what my prince asked of me, I regret it still, and have come to make amends. Had I not struck him, another might have taken my place and his heart then may have been the target, rather than his leg." These formal words, spoken in the elvish fashion, seemed very sincere. "I have spoken with the Great Bear, and heard of your anger against Smaug. I offer thou my aid, such as it is, in ridding the world of the foul dragon, and restoring the throne of Erebor to its right glory."

Even Dwalin's mouth hung partially open by the time Tauriel finished, his face torn between alarm and distrust. "Don't listen to a single pretty word off her silver tongue!" barked the warrior, before the others had quite recovered.

Thorin raised a hand to silence Dwalin. He could make his own judgment. His frown had eased to a look of puzzlement, as though he hadn't understood what she'd just said, or couldn't understand it. She was clever- he'd seen her craft from the start- and could doubtless use her wits and quick tongue to her advantage. But... why? Had Thranduil sent her in some misguided effort to claim the share of the treasure he'd been denied? Or to ensure they were captured and brought back? That her actions might be the result of precisely what she'd said was having trouble registering with him.

"But your king," Thorin questioned, "your prince... your people. If what you're saying is true, you've betrayed them. Why?" Loyalty was of all dwarven values the most prized. Other considerations aside, betrayal of any kind brought the highest of shame. Did she truly care so much about what went on beyond her own borders that she'd bring such disgrace upon herself?

Tauriel actually winced at his words, feeling the weight of the betrayal heavy in her mind and heart. For a long moment, she was very still. When at last she spoke, her voice was not entirely steady. "I brought my findings before my king, my worry that greater forces than we had yet seen in this age might join, and cast a shadow upon our land. This dragon, and Necromancer... they frighten me. But Thranduil no longer cares to look outside his borders. I... cannot accept this." The red-haired elf paused, seeming more uncertain now. "I love this land too much to let it be overrun and tainted, as our forest has been. If the darkness can be driven out, it would be an honor to be among the few who fought to restore the light."

"Good lass," murmured Balin, looking very much as though he approved.

Thorin took a step back from her, glancing at Balin. He valued the old dwarf's opinion highly, and it seemed he was of a mind to trust her. As... unlikely as it seemed, he had to admit, she didn't have the look of a liar.

He shifted, feeling the weight of many eyes and fortunes on him, turning back to Tauriel. "I am satisfied with your explanation, she-elf. But however merciful your aim was, my nephew may not understand." He shook his head, looking somewhat overwhelmed. "Give me some time." With that, he turned away.

Balin followed him into his chambers, unsure what sort of decision Thorin might be trying to make, but purposing all the same to offer guidance. The white-haired dwarf made sure the door was firmly shut before turning to his king with a curious look in his bright old eyes. "What's on your mind, Thorin?" The exchange with Tauriel had been baffling, at best, but he saw nothing wrong with allowing the elf to make of herself what use could be made. He didn't doubt she was a capable warrior, and would be a great boon should the dragon awake. Balin shivered, and decided not to dwell on it.

Thorin turned, not terribly surprised Balin had followed. "She's an elf... swearing loyalty to me." He threw up his hands, pivoting back to the wall again. "What am I to do with that? I couldn't... allow her to come with us. As capable of a warrior as I'm sure she is, what if she turns on us, when we're at our most vulnerable? I'd be a fool to allow her to join us, Balin. Would I not?"

Balin considered his king's words carefully. At length, he spoke in a slow, measured tone. "It would not be meet to deny her completely." He paused a moment, staring hard into his beard. "Yet I share your concern. Would it be possible," and here he raised his hoary head, fixing his gaze on Thorin's back, "to make use of her talents and keep our distance as well? Can we afford not to accept as much of her help as she offers?"

"You mean... leave her here, leave her with Kili?" Thorin tilted his head in a way that suggested he hadn't really considered the long-term ramifications of his nephew's injury. There was no possible way the young dwarf would be well enough to travel before Durin's Day fell, let alone be of any use. Someone would have to stay behind and care for him, and to leave the Company's only healer would be decidedly unwise. He frowned unhappily, disliking the situation where it stood. Trusting an elf. Needing an elf.

"Will he be safe with her, Balin? I know she could've killed him before- she had her chance- but... Balin, I can't lose him." I never should have allowed them to come along in the first place. So very young. Too young.

"We have time to judge the elf's mettle." Balin sighed quietly and stroked his beard. "We should stay here a day or two, give the lads some time to recover before we move on." He paused, frowning slightly. "You realize... we may need to leave the burglar behind. If this illness of hers is serious..." The old dwarf didn't finish the sentence. He knew he didn't need to. Thorin's imagination was more than vivid enough without his help.

Thorin nodded. He had considered that, but hadn't quite decided just what sort of feelings it evoked within him. In a way, he'd be relieved if she were forced to remain. It hadn't sat well with him from the start, the idea of sending her in to burgle the Arkenstone from beneath the dragon's nose, but she'd been so insistent... he didn't think he'd be able to persuade her otherwise, had he half a mind to. Moreover, Gandalf's words about the venture's success resting on Billa's inclusion in it were firmly ensconced in the back of his mind- and now he very much believed them. To leave her behind would be risky, at best.

"I am caring for her," Thorin said, hesitantly. "I hope to see her well enough to make our departure in a few days. If not, then so be it, but as far as I can help it, I'll not leave her behind."

A knowing smile crossed Balin's bearded face, but he made no further comment. With a slight bow, he acknowledged his king's decision. "Shall I send for supper?" The Company would enjoy the respite, even if Thorin was too preoccupied to share in it. Cocking his head slightly to listen, Balin nodded slowly. "Sounds like Oin found what he was looking for. Billa should have some soup in her before she sleeps. I'll go fetch it."