A.N: Helo, dearest readers, I'm still alive, thanks the Valar, just spent some days at Comic Con Experience and at my Mom (80 y.o., deserves lots of attention!), I expect next chapters to be up on due date, and here we go again!
Thanks for the continued support to Celebrisilweth, Nenithiel, Mustard Lady, Mizz Alec Volturi and That Other Writer Girl, you are the best!
And welcome to the party, djacobs, I hope you enjoy this ride!
More than special thanks to Sir Winston Churchill and all Bushido warriors and philosophers…

=^.^=

Kíli ran aimlessly for what felt like hours, but could easily be days, if the strain to his lungs were to be taken into account. The sound of Tilda's voice still echoed in his mind, yet he couldn't ascertain if it was what she cried in his dream or in real life. Actually, there were moments it was hard to ascertain what in his life was real and what was nightmare, lately.

At least, riding and camping with Tilda was no nightmare, even in he just turned it into one for her, forcing a kiss on the maiden…

His foot caught a root, diligently hidden under a pile of dead leaves, in collusion to make him fall.

"Fair." He thought, bitter, spitting a twig. "Just what a runaway deserves, I deem."

The dwarf squirmed until he was on his knees, brushing dirt and leaves from his arms and torso. A scrapped hand sought for his handkerchief to wipe his face, until he recalled giving it to Tilda.

There she was, in his thought again, even if he just ran away from her. Because he had run into her when he was running away from whomever Thorin fancied he should marry. It was a lot of running away for just one dwarf, Kíli mused, considering he faced a dragon. Yet, that dragon wouldn't sleep and wake up at his side for the rest of his life, would it?

"You're diverting again, Kíli the auto-exiled, to keep your mind from her and from what you did!"

He mumbled to himself, standing up and looking back the way he came. Better to track himself back to the campsite while his own tracks were still fresh, that forest was anything but trustworthy. However, Tilda probably had left the camp and his pathetic self behind to die in shame, he would find her and present his due apologies. It was the least his honour demanded. If she accepted it, he would…

Right, what would he do? Promise to behave? That's what he would do to his Amad when he was a dwarfling. Obviously, it would not do.

"You can always lie." Tilda said about his nightmares. That's exactly why he couldn't, not to her. She would know just by his stance, and it would be worse.

What more could he say but ashamed apologies for his actions? That he mistook her for Tauriel and acted accordingly? She would know it as the blatant lie it was. He didn't kiss her because he thought she was Tauriel, he kissed her because she was Tilda!

That he killed her in his nightmare and had to be sure she was alive? Closer to the truth, but what if she demanded to know the manner of her death? Would he be able to baffle her, maybe telling it was an accident? That he didn't mean it?

"Don't be afraid to love again."

Kíli inhaled deeply, eyes closed, conscious that Tauriel wouldn't be there if he looked around, even if her voice was so clear it hurt.

"Are you siding with Thorin now, I wonder?"

He hissed under his breath, again backtracking his own steps. The ghost of his One didn't answer and Kíli focused on the forest ground. It was stepper than he recalled, and he didn't notice he had run that much.

"She's a healer. Maybe I can approach it claiming my nightmare was like an illness? That my heart would never allow me to do what invaded my dream?" Kíli spoke softly to himself as he walked. "Yet, I did some of it. I kissed her. Maker, I kissed her! And now I must apologize. Aye, that is it: I will go to Tilda, apologize for kissing her, tell her I had a terrible nightmare, which is true," - he had to highlight it to himself – "and that kissing her was…"

"…what your heart demanded." Tauriel's ghostly voice whispered in his ear.

"What?!"

Kíli startled, stopping in his tracks. He was almost used to hear her voice in his dreams, but seldom in his waking hours, and even then it used to be just one or another phrase, months or even years apart. Last twenty-four hours she not only invaded his dreams but spoke to him clearly, more than once, and now even completed his train of thought.

"It was what your heart demanded, amrâlimê. Am I wrong?"

He blinked. Her voice was sweet, the question sounding rhetoric, not accusing as it should be if there were any hint of jealousy. And he was awake. This time he was sure to be awake. So, even if it was his sleeping imagination who stated Tauriel wasn't greedy and would willingly take in sweet Tilda, now it was his waking mind, or waking imagination, whatever, who heard Tauriel's words regarding his own feelings.

And she was right.

The epiphany hit him like a landslide.

"I love."

"Yes."

"But I fear."

"You do."

"What now?"

"You know. Every true warrior knows."

Aye, he supposed.

To do what's right. To do what must be done despite circumstances, dangers and pressures, notwithstanding his own conditions.

To have the courage to live free of fear. To be brave enough to decide to act. Not blind fearlessness, but to replace fear with caution and respect.

To be loyal. Only strong, noble spirits are able to be loyal, because it means responsibility. That's why Thorin used to list loyalty as one of the things he was bound to demand from someone who was to join the Retake. You have to be strong to be loyal, to be consistent to what you say or do, because the consequences will be yours, too.

And, last but not least…

To be completely honest with yourself and everyone else.

Obviously, Tilda deserved nothing less than this.

Lifting his gaze to the top of the trees of the forest where Tauriel's spirit had been incarnated and now haunted him, Kíli felt a strange kind of peace invade his long time troubled heart.

"I'll be brave."