Wherever she was, Tauriel was certain of one thing: This was not Mirkwood. The forest was a living, breathing place - a maze of vines and tree trunks, a sanctuary for spiders and soldiers alike. Blanketed as it was in shadows, it was never this dark. Even in its deepest corners, bits of light still found their way through. It certainly wasn't quiet. The snap of twigs beneath her feet, the scuttling of spiders, the call of crows - the sounds had been constant, as familiar as the beaten down paths that she could navigate blindfolded.

This place was her home's opposite. The surrounding darkness seemed to swallow everything it touched. Though her ears were open and alert, nothing entered them.

Blinking only made the surrounding blackness grow deeper. Tauriel turned her head. No matter where her eyes landed, everything was nothing.

She pressed her eyes shut, focusing on the strangely colored shapes that danced behind her eyelids. When she opened them, the weakly glowing images remained. They hovered in the air for a few moments before dissolving back into the darkness.

Where am I?

The inside of her brain seemed just as blank as her surroundings. Try as she might to conjure up answers, everything from before the moment she'd awoken seemed as distant as a star. Faces flashed before her mind - Legolas, struggling to hold back a laugh; Thranduil, not meeting her gaze when she returned from her latest patrol with a grim new report; Kili, pulling her closer and grinning.

Of them all, the dwarf seemed furthest from her. She tried to focus on his face, but the image kept wavering in her mind. What was it he'd said to her before he'd slipped back to Erebor?

Something, she knew, though what was anyone's guess.

There was no point in tearing her mind apart trying to find the answer. The more pressing question of where she was still hung before her.

It wasn't any part of Mirkwood. Even the dungeons and wine cellar, deep as they were, were still kept alight with torches and candles. So, this had to be... Where, exactly?

She froze.

"Are we not part of this world?

Her words had been sharp as the daggers strapped to her sides.

"And what would you know of it?"

Her king's response had been immediate. At the time, his response had stung. Now, it drew blood.

This wasn't Mirkwood, nor was it the athan - of that she was even more sure.

So, this place was what exactly?

She closed her eyes again. What had she been doing? As disconcerting as her surroundings were, there had to be a logical explanation as to how she got there.

Had she been - no, she couldn't have. Or maybe...

She shook her head. The answers, whatever they were, were elusive, easily slipping from her fingers just when she thought she'd finally gotten a firm hold on them.

Mirkwood - it was the only one word she could focus on. Tauriel's home might as well have been a world away. And for all she knew, it really was.

"The elves are even stupider than we thought if they think we'll help them." Arnfinn scowled. "The damned tree shaggers should be thankful we haven't sent an army to their doors."

"Who says we still can't?" Steinar replied. Or was it Vollker? Fili was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to keep track of his uncle's advisors.

A few laughed. Fili looked back down to the table.

Despite the new topic, his tongue was still heavy as ever. He'd spent the morning struggling to keep his eyes open as they'd debated trade options for raw materials. If not for Balin's gentle nudging with his boot, there was no telling if he would have been able to keep upright in his chair.

No doubt they were waiting for him to say something. Any decent prince would have spoken his mind.

No, it wasn't just Balin who'd kept him awake. Had his uncle seen him sleeping... The thought was enough to keep him up every night for the rest of his life.

Balin cleared his throat. "Then you'll all be pleased to know that we weren't discussing elves."

The room quieted. Fili looked back up.

"Bard and the soldiers of Lake Town," he continued, "gave more than we ever could have thought to ask of them. If not for their help, there would be no kingdom under the mountain today. The least we can do is provide them with some of our smiths' works."

"And you really think the elves won't take advantage of it?" Arnfinn banged his fist on the table. Fili felt his heart jump into his throat. "The men and elves have been allied together for ages. That we could ever expect loyalty from them..."

He might as well have thrown a match on a barrel packed to the brim with gunpowder. Shouts rang out through the council room, so loud that the elves probably could hear the commotion all the way back in Mirkwood. The words melded together into an ear piercing jumble. Even if Fili had something to say, would anyone have been able to hear it?

It was times like these when Fili wondered if their war of words might finally escalate. The axes and swords strapped to the council members' sides weren't decorative.

"Silence!"

Fili bit his lip. Thorin's roar would have made even Smaug tremble.

"Whatever your opinion, I will not listen to you scream insults." He turned his head, looking over each of them. His uncle couldn't have gazed at him for more than a second, but it was long enough for Fili to realize how lucky pebbles were. If only he were so small that he could slip beneath a crack in the floor...

"Your highness-"

His head swerved back, locking gazes with the dwarf who'd just spoken. "Did I request your input?"

For a moment, no one said anything at all. Fili's heartbeat echoed in his ears.

"I can see that discussions are getting nowhere." Thorin leaned his arms across the worn stone table, clasping his hands together. "We'll continue this in the morning. I expect everyone to bring their most civil arguments."

The words were only out his mouth for a moment before Fili was out of his chair.

Just where in the name of Iluvatar was she? Every clue she'd found so far seemed only to birth an exponential number of new questions.

The darkness had thinned, though not because of any light. Elves were a keen eyed folk who, given enough time, could parse through every shadow. How long it had taken for her vision to clear, to pull solid shapes from the surrounding blanket of blackness, was anyone's guess. Now, what she saw seemed to exist only to serve as a mocking contrast to the ever constant shadows.

The staircase couldn't have been more than sixty feet from her. She'd blinked when it had first come into view, once, twice, thrice. Even as their dim outline had grown as she'd stepped closer, part of her had expected her feet to melt through them.

The stairs were set into the walls, rising up at forty-five degree angles. They were ordered in an approximation of a square. Could she be in a tower of some kind?

There were marks of some kind carved in the walls. Most were too small for her to make much out of. What she could see might very well have been cracks, as disjointed and random as they were.

It was still silent as ever around her. She'd stopped for a moment sometime earlier, her ears raised towards what might have been running water. The sound had stopped almost as quickly as it had started. Only after what felt like ages had passed had she started climbing again.

Time - what a strange thing to be thinking about. As dark as it was, it very well could have been high noon. Someone could have been bathing in the sun's glow at that very moment. Did they even realize how lucky they were?

Tauriel shook the thought away. No one ever got what they wanted through wishing. If she kept climbing, perhaps she'd touch the sun itself. Though she'd once have laughed at the thought, it no longer seemed so implausible. For as long as she'd been walking, she had yet to have gotten so much as a sting in her heels for her efforts.

"Your highness, you're early!" Ori hurried up from his chair, sending papers flying and a quill tumbling to the floor. He gave them a quick look but didn't bend down to grab them, just hurried across the room.

Fili gritted his teeth. Since coming to Erebor, "prince" might as well have been his name. In the Blue Mountains, the title had been a way to impress dwarrowdam and stay out of trouble. Thorin had almost died to give it any real meaning in the Lonely Mountain.

It was one thing for the stream of dwarves arriving in by the caravan full every morning to address him the way Ori did. It was hard enough keeping the names of his chamber guards apart. But sometimes it seemed as if the scribe had forgotten the days when they'd raced around the schoolyard or the nights on the way to Erebor when they'd chatted over the fire long after the rest of the company had gone to bed.

"Thorin had pressing matters to attend to," Fili replied.

Namely nursing off a headache.

"Oh good," Kili called. He raised a hand and waved. "I almost thought you'd miss out on the fun."

Ori hurried over, red-faced. He smiled and gave a small bow. "Again, I must thank you for coming. I know you must be quite busy."

Fili gave him a shaky smile. "I've told you before, it's really no trouble. So, what are we working on today?"

The library of Erebor had once been so grand that even elves had envied it. It had offered texts in a range of subjects and languages, many of which few now spoke. How many had been lost when Smaug came was a question they were still trying to answer. Some manuscripts they found were only ashy scraps. Others were smudged and torn but overall still readable. No doubt they'd find more once the north and eastern wings were rebuilt. Though when the scattered bookshelves and toppled beams would finally be cleared out was anyone's guess. Just about every builder in Erebor was helping to construct homes or workshops, whether in the mountain or the streets of the reborn Dale.

Kili and Ori were sitting at a stone table close to the rows of Khuzdul texts that marked the west wing. As familiar as the table now was, what was on it was anything but. Some days, they'd pore over Elvish texts, painstakingly copying down what might as well have been glorified scribbles. Other days, they glued bits of parchment back together. Ori certainly never had trouble keeping them busy. He moved around the library with such a high efficiency that it was a wonder to realize that he hadn't been born in the place.

The two made their way back to where Kili was sitting. Fili stooped to pick up some papers from the floor.

He squinted at the torn colored squares. "What are these supposed to be?"

"An illustration of some dwarf lord - a distant ancestor of yours to be exact. Just who we won't know until we find the rest of the pieces."

Fili looked to Kili, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what he's been making you do all day, solve puzzles?"

Kili snorted. "I wish. You should have seen what he made me copy down!"

Fili chuckled. "Oh, you poor dear. We couldn't have your handwriting improving now, could we?"

He leaned across the table and grabbed a few pieces of paper, flipping through them. There were bits of text on them. Though Dwarvish, they were hard to follow, each rune running into the next.

"What should I do, Ori?"

"Right now, I just need everything in piles. Put together what you thinks belongs in a set." He looked back down to the picture he was piecing together. "With any luck, we might be able to make sense of something today."

He set to work. Whatever his brother's complaints, this beat listening to his uncle's advisors drone on and on about foreign alliances and tax policies. At the end of the day, at least he could look down and see he'd completed something.

Really, it had to be pity that caused Thorin to keep inviting him to his council meetings considering how little Fili spoke. Only on his good days, of which were far and few between, did he ever have anything more than two words to hastily string together. And that was only if he could follow the conversation at all.

Fili held a piece of paper up towards the light. His work needed more than a quick glance. He had handwriting and paper quality to compare. Just six months earlier, he hadn't had the faintest idea how many kinds of ink there were or which parchments more easily degraded with time.

"Hey, Fili!"

He looked up. Ori's chair was empty. Kili was leaning across the table, his chin propped in his hands.

At least his brother remembered who he was!

He smiled. "Yes?"

"You don't have any plans tonight, do you?"

Fili shook his head.

"Really?" Kili smirked. "Has Dain finally run out of princesses to send your way?"

Fili groaned. "What do you want, brother?"

"Well..."

Knowing Kili, it could be anything. His brother might ask him to raid the kitchens or tour the market or even make an impromptu visit to Dale for dinner.

"We haven't gone on a hunt in a while, have we?"

"No, not at all." Fili looked back down to his various paper stacks. "Kili, you know how uncle feels about them."

"I thought you said he was busy tonight! He won't even notice we're gone."

Fili bit his lip. "I know you saw Oin yesterday-"

"Forget Oin! Forget uncle! Can't you just remember me?" He reached a hand across the table, squeezing Fili's with his own. "It'll be just like old times."

"Ki," he began. The space between his temples felt tight enough to burst. "Are you sure?"

"More than I've ever been in my life!"

Fili sighed, still not meeting his brother's gaze. For all the quest was supposed to have changed him, he still could have more easily killed an orc one-handed than try and tell his brother no.

Considering how far out I've got this fic planned, I'll hopefully be able to post another chapter soon.