"I guess you never know you're lost until you have something to lose,
A choice until you have something to choose …"
Frank Turner, A love worth keeping
Azog sat astride his giant white warg within the trees of Mirkwood forest, running the claw of his prosthetic hand slowly through the thick fur as he gazed out over the trees. The Dwarf-runt who had betrayed the company near the Grey Mountains had told him that they were taking the forest river and so they had ridden around the northern region of the forest to set a trap for them, yet the Dwarves had yet to appear. After days of waiting on the edge of the forest the orcs had started to creep inwards, following the river for some sign of their quarry.
He sniffed the air. They were now very close to the Woodland Realm and the Pale Orc bared his teeth at the stench of Elf. Everywhere around them the forest and river reeked of unnatural Elvish magic, making the trees hale and strong, nothing like the twisted and blackened boughs in the southern forest, near Dol Guldor.
He was considering his next move, whether to risk Elven scouts by moving further up river or to retreat and continue waiting for prey that may never arrive, when a loud, clear note from a horn rang out through the air.
Straightening, he saw a commotion near the water-gate – the Dwarves were in the river and the Elven guards were preparing to recapture them: all were unaware of the company of orcs hiding in the trees behind him. A low snarl escaped him at the sight of the Dwarf-king, who he had been hunting for so long.
Seeing his opportunity, Azog slowly raised his mace as a signal to the others. "Kill them all," he ordered in the Black-speech.
Thorin's initial belief that Bilbo's escape plan was brilliant was rapidly changing: they may have escaped the dungeons but they were by no means clear of the Woodland Realm and they no weapons to fight their way free. Their escape had clearly been noticed since a clear note from a horn rang out loudly from behind them, no doubt a signal to guards ahead.
Turning in his barrel to face forward, Thorin was dismayed to see a large stone structure blocking the river, with the water flowing through a wrought iron gate beneath it – a gate that was slowly and ponderously swinging closed before them.
Dragged inexorably forwards by the current, he could only watch as their one way out was blocked. His barrel bumped against the bars just as they closed and he gripped them tightly, feeling despair and hopelessness rising up inside him as the rest of the company piled up behind him.
Just as he had resigned himself to being recaptured, determined to face Thranduil again with as much dignity as his battered pride could muster, he heard a feral snarl above them, followed by the clash of weapons.
"Orcs, we're under attack!" Dori shouted from the back, having a clear view of the Elves fighting.
It was scant seconds before the orcs came into sight, leaping into the river to attack the company – from his place at the front, beneath the shelter of the stone bridge, Thorin could only watch as they kept the foul creatures at bay, stealing weapons and using them to defend themselves. Bilbo once more proved his worth by jabbing his small sword upwards and into an orc that Nori had been attempting to fend off.
Fili's voice suddenly rang out, loud and terrified among the din of the fighting. "Kili!" he shouted, his wide eyes fixed on the bridge above them.
Thorin turned, fear creeping through him. "Kili ..." he breathed softly, his eyes scanning the river. He could not see his youngest nephew anywhere and so he did not know what could have happened to make Fili call out like that, fear evident in his voice. Elizabeth had warned him weeks ago that Kili could die on this quest if the story that she knew reasserted itself, as she feared it was doing, though still she had told him nothing of how it happened: in escaping the Woodland Realm without her, he might have just led his nephew to his death.
Suddenly the gate started to inexplicably swing open behind him and his barrel was dragged quickly through by the current.
Looking back, he saw Kili on the stone gateway with an arrow stuck through his knee – relief flooded through him, seeing that it was not a fatal wound. The relief was followed by a surge of pride, realising that his nephew had climbed onto the gateway to release the gate for the rest of the company, at great risk to himself.
Kili caught his gaze as the current swept the company away. "Go, go!" his nephew shouted, gesturing wildly with his hand. He was then roughly hauled to his feet by two Elves as he was recaptured.
Seeing that there was no way to go back for him, Thorin gritted his teeth as the river pulled him onwards.
The next few minutes passed with the familiar blur of fighting, a sword he had picked up from an orc sitting awkwardly in his hand. The Elves were pursuing the orcs down the river, though it had quickly become apparent that it was the Dwarves that the foul creatures were hunting – Thorin had thought he had seen glimpses of a white warg running amongst the trees and knew that Azog had finally caught up with them.
Even among the chaos of fighting, Thorin wondered how this could be so. They had travelled down the river, leaving no scent on the banks for miles at a time, and yet the Pale Orc had still managed to track them: in fact, it almost appeared that he had been waiting for them on the edge of the forest, somehow knowing that they would be emerging this way.
He had suspected since orcs had first pursued their company just before Rivendell that someone had betrayed their quest, even initially suspecting Elizabeth to be the culprit, but now, for the first time, he wondered if Dwarves, his own kin, were to blame.
The thought left a sick feeling in his stomach.
After some time being dragged along by the swift current, they eventually outran the orcs. Seeing that the river opened up onto a lake before them, he directed the exhausted and water-logged company towards the shore, knowing that they had to regroup, gather their bearings, decide their next move and depart before the orcs caught up with them.
Leaving his barrel in at the waters edge, Thorin staggered up the stony bank. Fili stumbled up behind him and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, turning him forcefully around. His nephew looked utterly bedraggled, the braids in his moustache and hair having come undone in the wild water. "Why did you do that?" he demanded loudly, his expression furious. "Why did you leave Kili behind?" he added, his voice rising to a shout.
"There was no way we could have stopped, not with that current and a pack of orcs on our tail," he said logically, recognising why Fili was so distressed but also aware that it had been the only option before them.
"Then we go back," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious suggestion in the world.
Thorin looked out over the lake, knowing that the mountain was hidden somewhere in the mists of the northern shore – they were now so close, with nothing standing in their way. Everything around them was starting to appear achingly familiar, reminding him that he was so close to home: the smell of the lake, the breeze coming down from the mountain, even the heavy clouds that hung low over the water. He spoke slowly, weighing his words. "The company is mostly intact," he said eventually, knowing that his response would distress Fili. "I cannot risk us being imprisoned again for the sake of one Dwarf … not even my own kin."
Fili looked thunderous, clearly unable to believe what he was hearing. "Lizzy is there too, in case you have forgotten," he said pointedly.
Thorin tore his gaze away from the thick mists concealing the mountain to scowl deeply at him. "Of course I have not forgotten that."
Fili nodded slowly, his expression hard and unyielding. "So … you were willing to risk imprisonment for her, but not for your own nephew," he said bitterly, disappointment evident in his voice.
Resenting his implication that he cared more for her than for his own family, Thorin lowered his voice to a growl. "She was dying," he reminded him bluntly, remembering the feeling of her limp body in his arms as sightless grey eyes stared over his shoulder. "You all made the decision as a company to follow me there, you needn't have come."
"Of course we had to come, just as we have to go back for them now," Fili countered, raising his voice once more. He was clearly agitated, his hands balled into fists by his side.
Thorin shook his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "We cannot, not if we are to reach the mountain by Durin's Day." It was a harsh but true fact: if they launched a rescue mission it would mean the end of their quest to find the hidden door.
"Then I'll go alone," he said with unyielding stubbornness, turning away as if to make his way back up river without any kind of supplies or weapons.
Thorin grabbed him, forcing him to turn back around to face him. "Stop, think," he ordered, gripping him tightly by both shoulders so that he listened to his words. "We have orcs pursuing us and, if we escape them, we are going to be risking the wrath of a dragon to reclaim the arkenstone. You saw the injury that Kili got, if he were with us he would be -"
"What, a liability?" Fili interrupted. "Is that how you see him?"
"He would be an easy target," Thorin corrected, taking care to keep his tone low so as not to inflame his nephews ire further. Fili made to turn away, but Thorin kept a tight grip, making him look at him – it was moments like this that he was reminded just how young his nephews were, that they were still challenging his authority. "I had to bury my grandfather and brother, I will not risk my only remaining kin," he rumbled. He then raised a hand, cupping the side of Fili's neck and leaning towards him. "It does not sit well with me to leave them behind either, but you must see that this is the best option before us … Kili will be safe enough in Mirkwood, as will Elizabeth," he finished softly, his voice serious and intent.
Avoiding his eyes, Fili eventually exhaled a long sigh. He then reluctantly looked up and nodded.
Thorin released him. "Now we move on, quickly," he said, raising his voice so that the rest of the company, who were busy wringing out their clothes and emptying their boots of water, could hear him.
Fili nodded again, then his eyes abruptly focused on something over his shoulder. "Thorin!" he shouted as a warning.
Recognising that there was a threat, Thorin instinctively stooped for a stone as he turned around, but it was shot from his hand by an arrow fired with stunning accuracy. He wished that he still had the orc-sword he had stolen, but he had thrown it at an orc who had been about to attack the Elf-prince from behind – however, his assailant was not the orcs he had been expecting.
"Do that again ... and you're dead," a tall man carrying a long bow said sternly from where he stood above them on a high ridge, a second arrow already nocked and ready to fire.
Lizzy was perched on the steps leading up to an ornate throne that was intricately carved of wood and stone. Thranduil was pacing the area in front of her, his long robe whispering across the floor with every turn. His movements were lithe, predatory and calculated: she could only wonder what he was thinking as he ponderously paced back and forth.
With the news that her companions had escaped (a fact that both thrilled and terrified her) the feast had been disbanded and the hunt for the Dwarves had began instantly. Thranduil had curtly ordered for her to follow him and they were now awaiting further news in the throne-room: already they had been told that the guards were contending with orc attacks along the river, as well as attempting to recapture the prisoners.
Her heart had clenched when she had heard about the orc attack – that was something that she didn't remember happening in the story and was now fearing any changes that might have come about.
She was sitting and gnawing on the skin around her nails when a sudden clamour at the door made her look up. To her complete and utter astonishment Kili was being dragged up the steps towards them; he was attempting to walk with one leg, but the other had a vicious looking black shaft piercing his knee, making him lean heavily on the guards. They were followed by Tauriel and Legolas - it may have been the first time she had seen Legolas, but being in the presence of a member of the Fellowship barely registered with her: she was much too concerned about the Dwarf in front of her.
Unheeding of his injury, the guards threw him to the floor at Thranduil's feet, making him grunt in pain.
Lizzy darted around the Elf-king, dropping to her knees in front of Kili. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Oh Kili, what happened?" she entreated desperately, worried by how pale and drawn his face was – she also couldn't help but wonder what had befallen the rest of the company, especially since the arrow in Kili's leg was clearly orc-made.
Kili winced, tilting his head back away from her searching hands. "It's nothing," he assured her, though his voice was weak and lacking in conviction.
"The Dwarves have escaped, my lord, though we did manage to recapture this one," Tauriel said; her voice was loud and clear, though Lizzy noticed that she seemed tense, her gaze continuously flicking down to Kili on the floor.
"Only one out of thirteen ... a truly impressive feat," Thranduil said dryly, the accusatory nature of his tone making Tauriel visibly bristle.
"We also have an orc prisoner for questioning," Legolas added in her defence, standing tall with his shoulders back. Lizzy glanced over at him, taking in the tall, blond Elf that she knew so much of for the first time: much like when she had caught a glimpse of Aragorn in Rivendell, the sight of Legolas filled her with a sense of familiarity that was at once strange and alien.
"Very well," Thranduil said, nodding slowly at his son. He then lazily gestured towards Kili without looking at him. "Take him back to the dungeons."
"You can't!" Lizzy suddenly piped up from the floor, scrabbling to her feet to stare down the king, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders as she glared fiercely at him. "Can't you see that he is hurt?"
Thranduil spared Kili's injury one fleeting, dismissive look. "He will not die from a simple arrow wound. May the pain of his injuries be a reminder that the Elves of the Woodland Realm are not to be crossed," he said, cruelly uncaring. He then addressed the guards once more. "Take him away."
He was clearly in pain as the Elves hauled him to his feet. "Kili!" Lizzy said in growing panic, trying to reach for him before the guards could take him.
"I'll be fine, Lizzy," he told her weakly, then the guards started dragging him out of the throne-room.
She took several deep breaths, resisting the urge to go after them, and then turned to face Thranduil once more. "And what about me?" she demanded, agitation coursing through her.
Thranduil raised a heavy, quizzical brow at her. "What about you?"
"If you're going to keep us here as prisoners then don't I deserve the same treatment?" she put to him, folding her arms over her chest, determined to appear confident and assertive. "Either put me in prison as well, or let us go," she commanded, keeping her chin raised.
He shook his head slowly, his expression sombre. "You do not deserve the same treatment … for you are not one of them," he said, his voice quiet and serious.
Lizzy took a deep breath, her hand creeping up to the Firebeard pendant hanging at her throat. Memories had sprung to the forefront of her mind: laughing and talking around a campfire, sitting in content silence with Bifur, helping Bombur cook, fighting lessons with Dwalin, Fili or Kili, and then the feeling of lying in Thorin's arms as their small boat rocked beneath them. "Yes, I am one of them" she said firmly, enunciating every word.
"Very well … take her back to her room," Thranduil lazily ordered the remaining guards.
One of them took her gently, but firmly, by the arm. Realising that the king was refusing her demand and that she was about to be imprisoned in a far more gilded cage that Kili's, Lizzy shook him free and stepped closer to Thranduil, determined to try another tactic. "No – No, wait, you don't understand, you … you have to let us go," she said urgently, keeping her voice low so that only he could hear.
"And why is that?" he asked interestedly, looking down at her.
She bit her lip, thinking before speaking. "He …I mean they need me. That's why Gandalf bought me here, to help them," she told him seriously. She rubbed a hand over her face, unsure of how much to reveal but also knowing that it was now down to her to talk her and Kili out of the Woodland Realm if they wanted to rejoin the company. "You said that Thorin is like Thror and - and if … if he is going to fight the gold-sickness then he needs my help … " she said hesitantly, then a slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. "Besides, what use are we to you stuck in the dungeons?"
Thranduil was watching her intently, his head tilted to one side, but still he showed no sign of speaking.
"Please," Lizzy finished meekly. "Please, you have to let us go."
His gaze drifted over her shoulder and he nodded at the guards. Her arms were seized again and the Elves started to escort her from the throne-room. Panic reared inside her once more, seeing absolutely no way out of Mirkwood without Bilbo's help. She shouted desperately back to him as she was pulled away, "Please, Thranduil - please, you have to let us go!"
Yet the only reply she received were echoes of her own hopeless pleas bouncing back from the vaulted walls around them.
Tauriel was utterly furious: in fact, she didn't think she had ever felt such anger in her life, blind and impotent rage flooding through her as she stood before the throne. The king had arrogantly assumed that because their doors were closed that they were safe, and so had imprudently allowed everyone to relax their guard: now he seemed to blame her, one of the few who had not been celebrating at the feast, for both for the escape of the Dwarves and for failing to recapture them.
Even now, with a pack of orcs just shy of their borders hunting their prisoners, he concerned himself with wrongfully imprisoning Lizzy when she had committed no crime against him – she could not help but feel that it was both unjust and wrong.
Yet he was her king and she could not speak against him, no matter how much she might wish too.
It was strange just how much her perceptions of the world were changing over the past few days: with the arrival of strangers the lands beyond their borders had become of greater importance to her and she was realising that the king's actions (or lack of action) was having an adverse affect on others. She felt that they needed to take a greater part in the world, to stand for what was right regardless of whether or not it immediately impacted them. If they did not, she feared that their small island of freedom would diminish and they would eventually stand alone and friendless against the shadows that were growing at the door.
After biting her tongue watching both Kili and Lizzy being dragged away, Tauriel had stepped forward. "Permission to go after the orcs, my lord," she requested: she may not be able to change his mind about his new prisoners, but she might be able to track those foul creatures and destroy them.
"No, bring the orc forth for questioning," Thranduil ordered, barely even listening to her request: he must have known that the time wasted questioning the orc would make tracking and catching up with the pack even harder. It appeared that as long as the orcs were not within his borders he did not care what atrocities they committed.
The orc prisoner was dragged snarling and spitting into the throne-room, twisting against its captors. Legolas swiftly took control, ceasing the orcs struggles with a knife held firmly to its throat. Its movements stopped, but it gurgled under its breath and started to rant about how death and destruction was coming to them all in a guttural voice.
"You were tracking the company of thirteen Dwarves: why?" Legolas demanded over the rambling, pressing the knife deeper into the orcs flesh as he started the interrogation.
"Not thirteen, not anymore," the orc hissed, shifting his hostile, black-eyed gaze to Tauriel. "The young one, the black-haired archer … we stuck him with a morgal-shaft," he hissed with satisfaction; he was opening and closing his mouth as he spoke, as if the common tongue came with difficulty to him. "The poison's in his blood: he'll be choking on it soon."
"Answer the question, filth," she said sharply, refusing to show how unsettled she was by this news of Kili's injury. She silently thanked the Valar that they had been able to recapture him: here they had medicine that could treat such poison, she doubted he would have survived if he had escaped with the others.
The orc snarled something at her in the Black-speech and she instinctively drew her knife in response. Hatred and disgust for these foul, abominable creatures was flooding her and she was positively itching to hunt the rest of its pack before they hurt others. "I would not antagonise her," Legolas said mildly, pulling back on the orc's matted hair.
It bared its blackened, sharp fangs at her in an obvious challenge. "You like killing things, orc? … You like death?" Tauriel asked quietly, recognising the hateful malice, the desire to kill and destroy all in its path, that was ingrained in this creature. She wanted nothing more than to cleanse the world of its filth – without thinking, she leapt forward with her knife. "Then let me give it to you!"
"Tauriel!" Thranduil's stern voice stopped her just as she held the blade to the orcs throat. "Leave."
Unable to argue against this obvious dismissal, she slowly straightened, sheathed her blade and walked from the throne-room with her shoulders back. She was angry at herself for this lapse in control, knowing that she would never be permitted to hunt the orcs now, even though it was the right thing to do. Remembering Kili's injury, she paused at the entry-way. "What about the Dwarf?" she asked without turning back.
"What about him?" Thranduil said, as if he had not heard the orcs boast about the poisoned arrow.
"A morgal-shaft poisons the blood," she reminded him carefully, weighing her words and keeping tight control over the tone of her voice. "Would you allow a prisoner to be slain by orcs under your watch?"
There was a brief silence, then the king spoke once more. "Tend to him then, I have greater problems to deal with."
With the stone shot from his hand, Thorin bared his teeth in a snarl as his eyes quested around for another weapon to use against this assailant. Ever the diplomat, Balin stepped forward before they could attack the man who had fired upon them, "Excuse me, but you're from Lake Town, if I'm not mistaken ..." he started to say. The man turned his bow to him, but Balin raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "That barge … it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"
Thorin looked passed the man, noticing a large barge floating in the water behind the rock that he had not seen before. Its presence presented them with a quick and easy solution for crossing the lake that now stood before them, as well as providing a potential escape from the orcs that were eagerly pursuing them down the river.
The man lowered his bow ever so slightly. "What makes you think I would help you?" he asked cautiously, his sharp eyes glancing briefly over the entire company, no doubt taking in their lack of armour, weapons and provisions.
"Those boots have seen better days, as has that coat," Balin put to him as he started loading up his barge with the barrels. The conversation quickly drifted to the man's family back in the town, a clear attempt on Balin's part to butter him up so that he would help them. Meanwhile. Thorin looked wearily over his shoulder, knowing that the orcs would not be far off.
Dwalin, however, had little patience for such tactics. "Enough with the niceties," he growled, his hands clenched into fists.
The bargeman blinked mildly at this. "What's your hurry?" he asked.
"Night is falling and these lands are perilous," Thorin said bluntly, speaking for the first time since the man's arrival.
The man pulled one of the broken orc-shafts out of a barrel and examined the hole left behind. "I'll say, these are orc-arrows fired at Elven barrels" he observed, tossing the shaft into the water. "Something tells me that whatever business you had with the Elves did not end well."
"Our business is our own, will you carry us as passengers?" Thorin demanded, disliking how much this man saw with his shrewd eyes. More than that, he did not believe that this man was just a simple bargeman, not with so fine and superior weapon as his long bow, as well as his impeccable aim: as such, Throin was inclined to be cautious about revealing too much.
The man thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "If you can pay your way then I'm willing to take you to the toll-gate," he said simply, the raised a hand before Balin could politely thank him. "But you should know that no one enters Lake Town by by the leave of the Master. All of his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm, he will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."
"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen -" Balin started to say, but Thorin cut him off.
"No," he interrupted, stepping closer to the man and tilting his head back to look up at him. The man was tall and dark-haired, reminding him of the folk that used to live in Dale, in the shadow of the mountain back in the days of the Dwarves of Erebor's sovereignty. "There was once a day when Lake Town's trade came from the Dwarves of mountain, far more than the Woodland Realm could provide," he said softly, carefully gauging the man's reaction.
He smiled bitterly, his grey eyes hard and cold as ice-chips. "Glory days, long gone now," the bargeman said, a lifetime of asperity evident in his tone. "Much of Lake Town has fallen into disrepair, there is poverty and hardship everywhere you look."
"Then I think that the Master will be pleased to see us," Thorin said simply, folding his arms over his chest, keeping his chin lifted.
Balin tugged on his arm and he glanced at his old friend. "Thorin, wouldn't secrecy be better?" he suggested, a note of worry in his voice: while he could see the prudence of such a course, but felt that he had to disagree.
Thorin shook his head slowly, pitching his voice so that the bargeman would not hear his words. "I am returning to reclaim my kingdom, I will not enter this town as a thief in the night," he said firmly. He then dug around in his pocket, extracting a small purse of silver coins that the Elves had not confiscated from him. He tossed it to the bargeman, who caught it easily. "Will that suffice?" he asked plainly, knowing it would probably be enough to feed his family for a month.
The man weighed the bag in his hand and then slowly nodded. "Aye, welcome aboard," he said in an easy tone. He then swept out an arm, stepping aside to let them onto the boat, and added. "The name's Bard, at your service."
Back in the familiar darkness of his small, cramped cell, Kili was attempting to stem the bleeding from his leg with a rag torn from his under-shirt. He had broken the arrow shaft off, but the metal head was still embedded in his flesh and he hadn't yet had the courage to dig it out, knowing that the pain would be excruciating and the wound would bleed even more. Already a dull, burning ache was spreading down his leg, making him tremble slightly.
He bit down hard on his lip as he pressed the rag into the wound and then jumped in surprise as the door to his cell swung open. Tauriel seemingly floated into the room: she had disposed of her customary weapons and carried both a cloth bag and a small, steaming bowl of water instead. She approached him, leaving the door wide open behind her.
"Will you allow me to look?" she asked, her voice quiet and melodious.
"It's nothing," he said instantly, using the rag to hide the wound. Her expression was gently sceptical and he relented under the kindness of her gaze. "Very well," he muttered, moving the rag to one side: blood welled up instantly without the pressure on the wound.
Tauriel knelt before him, putting her eyes just below his level for once. He found himself staring interestedly at the braids in her hair, wondering if they meant anything in her culture. She started examining his leg, her fingertips whisper-soft over the inflamed skin. "I cannot see the wound properly," she said after a moment.
"Would you like me to remove my trousers?" Kili asked artlessly, his mouth working before his mind – at least he could blame the pain of his injury for his thoughtless words.
She gave him a mild look. "I am sure we can manage by simply rolling up the hem," she said neutrally, and then proceeded to to so. Her movements were so slow and careful that he did not feel a twinge of pain, even when the material brushed against the injury as she pulled it up. She bent her head to examine the wound again. "It is a blessing that you did not have time to put dirt on it," she said under her breath, rummaging around in her bag before extracting a small set of silver tweezers.
Kili snorted at this reference to one of their previous conversations. "Really, it's just an arrow wound," he insisted, surprised by how concerned she seemed to be, as well as the level of care she was putting into treating him. She was frowning in concentration as she manoeuvred the tweezers to try and grasp the broken shaft still in his leg. "Give me something clean to bind it with and I'll be fine," he added, and then gritted his teeth against the sudden pain of the shaft-head being moved – he did not want her to think him weak by needing treatment.
He grunted sharply as she pulled the shaft free and held it up to the meagre light in the cell. The metal was barbed and jagged, glinting wickedly with his blood in the dim light. Tauriel very carefully placed it on a small square of clean, white cloth that she had laid out on the floor beside her. "This is a Morgal shaft, tipped with poison," she said simply, returning to her bag. "If untreated, you would succumb to a fever in less than a day."
"Poison?" Kili repeated, his voice somewhat higher than usual.
Tauriel smiled gently at him and produced a sweet-smelling herb. "Do not fear, this is athelas and it will act as a cure," she told him, tearing up the herb and adding it to the steaming water. "I am sure you have no desire to be the first Dwarf to die of poisoned blood," she added.
Kili smiled slightly. "No … and thank you," he said quietly, wanting to show that he was indeed grateful for her treatment.
There was a silence as she bathed his leg with the sweet-smelling water, which instantly helped in soothing the pain. She carefully washed away the blood and then used the moist, crushed herbs as a paste that she spread over the wound, stopping the bleeding. She retrieved a roll of pure white gauze and started to bind his leg, the movements of her hands soft and graceful. The whole time she was murmuring in Elvish under her breath, her voice soft and musical.
"I'm sorry," Kili whispered, so as not to disturb her.
She glanced up at him from where she still knelt on the floor. "For what?" she asked curiously.
"Escaping," he clarified, and then smiled wryly. "Sort of escaping, anyway," he amended, glancing around the cell he was imprisoned in once more. "I hope that we didn't cause much trouble for you."
She smiled at him for a moment, and then her gaze turned serious, her hazel eyes solemn. "And I hope that you know that I did not approve of the king imprisoning your company," she said earnestly, her head tilted to one side with her long, red hair cascading over one shoulder.
"I know," he replied quietly, nodding at her.
"... Nor do I approve of him imprisoning you now," she added, kneeling with her hands folded elegantly in her lap.
"Couldn't you -" Kili started to say without thinking, and then abruptly cut himself off, looking down at the stone floor.
"What?" Tauriel asked curiously.
"Nothing," he replied instantly, shaking his head and still refusing to meet her eyes.
There was a brief silence in which he could hear his elevated heartbeat pounding in his ears. "You were going to ask me for my help," she deduced softly, looking at him intently.
He glanced up and shook his head once more, this time giving her a small smile. "You've already done enough," he said honestly, gesturing to his bound leg: he knew that he probably would have died were it not for her. "I will not ask any more of you."
Tauriel's gaze had not wavered, her clear hazel eyes roving searchingly over his face. "Even if I was the only way you could escape this realm?" she asked, her voice dropping to a guilty whisper.
He met her eyes, confused by her tone. "Even then," he confirmed, speaking the truth. "It would be wrong to ask you to disobey your king."
She swiftly rose to her feet and paced once around the cell, agitation clear in her bearing. "Perhaps … you do not need to ask," she said, ceasing her pacing and turning to look at him: she seemed conflicted, holding her shoulders back too tightly.
Kili slowly shook his head in confusion, gazing up at her and trying to quell the faint hope that was kindling within him. "Why … why would you want to help me?"
She turned away from him, facing out towards the open door of the cell. There was another silence, and then she slowly spoke. "... I was among the host of Elves marching to the mountain when Erebor fell," she admitted, her voice full of distant memories. "I remember seeing the smoke and the destruction of that day and thinking that it was wrong of us to simply turn around." She turned to face him, looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. "And now you are trying to reclaim the mountain, to defeat the evil that dwells there and rebuild a home for your people … for your friends and families." She then nodded once, as if a decision had been made in her mind. "Yes, I believe that helping you is the right thing to do."
"So … what are you going to do?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to hope too much.
She smiled slyly at him. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Sorry for the long wait on an update. I am now in New Zealand and it is frickin' b-e-a-u-tiful, though I am having trouble finding work :/
A massive thank you for all of your amazing reviews – remember, if you have anything you want to ask me send me a PM or an ask on tumblr.
My tumblr is called ~kindle-the-stars and you can follow any updates, sneak peeks and travel news there.
Big hugs from Middle Earth!