- Chapter 27 -

It was true, his kind could be quiet as a mouse if they wanted to be, however, in the quietness of the early morning hours even Bilbo Baggins could hear the soft pitter patter of his bare feet over the stone floor. Elves had keen hearing, so he tried his best to be as quiet as possible. A slight slip of the foot on the step made a noise that could have easily been heard if someone had been around, but the hall behind him was empty, as were the stairs he was descending.

A simple noise might have drawn the attention of a passerby, but they would not have seen anything for even though he was there, Bilbo was as invisible as air. He touched the smooth surface of the golden ring he wore, as if he had to be sure it was still on his finger. Indeed, there it was, and his confidence rose. The last few days were spent trying to find a way to get the dwarves out of the nasty situation they found themselves in; and he believed whole heartedly that he found the answer. The trick now, was to get back down to the cellar and snatch the keys from the hook they hung from. The only flaw, would be if the elves woke from their drunken slumber early.

Quickening his pace, he risked his chances and hurried along, passing more empty halls and stairwells as he went. Carefully, he poked his head around the corner of the wall and peered down into the cellar below him. Sure enough, the two elves drank themselves into a deep slumber and the keys were exactly as they had been the night before.

Heart pounding, he tiptoed towards them. As gently as possible, he lifted the keys from off the hook and sprinted back up the stairs, counting exits as he went until he came to the one that would take him to the dungeons. Seeing no guards, he started feeling nervous as he made his way towards the cells.

"It must be nearly dawn," he heard someone say, and he froze mid step. His heart caught in his chest and he held his breath, until the next voice answered him, the tone of it sad and sorrowful sounding.

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?"

His heart gave a little flutter. He knew those voices!

Closing the distance between himself and the first cell, he slipped off his ring and tucked it safely back inside his vest pocket and gave it a pat for good measure.

"Not while you're locked up in here you wont!" Bilbo said as he stuck his head in front of the first cell door and looked inside. To his surprise and delight, Thorin was seated on the little bench along the wall, his shoulders slumped. The dwarf's eyes widened in shock and surprise and a grin spread across his face when he caught sight of Bilbo.

"Bilbo!" someone cried along the line and happy cheers rang out much to his disapproval.

"Shh!" he hissed at them. "There are guards about!"

Fumbling with the keys, he unlocked the door to Thorin's cell and made quick work of unlocking the rest. The dwarves filed out of their temporary homes quietly, and Bilbo's heart went back to thumping loudly as the doors squeaked while opening. He turned back to Thorin, who followed close behind on his heels.

"Shyloh is being held somewhere else but there are always guards at her door. I don't know how we're going to break her loose," he said quickly, and the rest of the company looked to Thorin as if he might have a solution to their new problem.

Thorin's chin lowered just the slightest and his mouth formed a hard line. "We're not going to."

Everyone went quiet.

"W-what do you mean?" asked Bilbo hesitantly, as if he misunderstood Thorin.

"I said we're not going to break her loose," Thorin said sternly.

"You mean we're just going to leave her?" asked Fili, his face drawn tight with confusion.

"Uncle, she is part of the company," argued Kili.

"There's no time," Thorin said, his eyes sweeping those of his kin. "If we are to reach the mountain before Durin's day we cannot afford anymore delays."

Balin sighed heavily, knowing that Thorin was right. That didn't make leaving her behind any easier. When Thorin returned from being questioned by the King, he'd hardly said one word about her, and it left them frantically worrying over her fate. No word from the guards to ease their minds either; no nothing. Since then, Thorin was quieter than usual and Balin was beginning to fear the worst.

"He's right laddies," said Balin reluctantly. "We've already lost time by sitting here."

The company was quiet and it was clear that no one wanted to leave her behind. But, what choice did they have?

Thorin turned back to Bilbo. "Get us out of here Master Burglar."

Creeping down the halls wasn't as easy with thirteen dwarves following behind you, but somehow they made it. As they reached the cellar, they looked at the hobbit incredulously when they were instructed to get inside the barrels.

Bilbo gave Thorin a pleading look, and despite his reservations about the entire affair, Thorin gave the order to do as he said. Without another word, they heaved themselves inside the empty barrels while Bilbo paced in front of them.

Bofur popped his head out and eyed the hobbit curiously.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Hold your breaths."

Shyloh paced her room, unable to sleep. A heavy weight bore down on her mind as she walked back and forth.

Something happened.

Something bad happened.

But what?

She crossed her arms over her middle in frustration, tucking them in close to her. The shafts in the ceiling told her the day was slowly passing as light filtered into her room. Hours passed since the first hints of light but she could hardly tell what time of day it really was. Ever since coming back to her room from the feast, she felt troubled for reasons she could not explain. A heavy unease settled upon her heart, and she couldn't find any rest. Aside from tossing the fancy white gown to the side and exchanging it for a simpler emerald green one a maid hung up while she was out, Shyloh hadn't sat down for a minute despite being exhausted. She lost track of how many hours she danced last night, not to mention the constant slew of ellyn that pestered her.

She hated being locked up like she was, but she hated even more that no matter who she asked no one seemed to know anything about the dwarves. The guards flat out refused to speak of them, or even acknowledge the fact she'd asked about their well being and simply pretended she didn't exist. Completely frustrated wouldn't even begin to describe how she was feeling.

No one brought breakfast, and she figured perhaps because of the feast last night, the Realm was still recovering. Sinking down into the armchair, she heaved a troubled sigh. Why couldn't Thorin just agree to the King's terms so they could be off? What was so precious about these gems anyways?

Dwarves!

They were really starting to jerk her chain.

Not a minute passed from the time she sat down and when the door to her room burst open, making her practically jump out of her chair in fright. Three fully armed guards entered so quickly and swiftly, their faces etched like stone that it made her back away in fear. The third one to enter came straight for her and as she tried to back away from his advances she wasn't quick enough. He snatched her arm so fast she didn't even have time to react as she was practically dragged out of her room.

"What did I do? What happened?" she cried as terror filled her insides.

He didn't say anything while she struggled against him but his hand was like a death grip on her arm. Vaguely she recognized him from last night but he'd been happier then and not so dangerous looking. Now, fury and hatred were written all over his features.

"Please stop!" she begged as she tripped over her own feet. He yanked her upright and she thought how easy it would be for him to pull her arm from its socket. "Please, you're hurting me!"

That didn't seem to matter and he didn't seem to hear her as he dragged her down hall after hall. She gave the guards behind her a pleading look but their faces remained like stone and they didn't offer her any sympathy.

She had no idea where they were taking her but it seemed to take forever to reach their destination and by that time, his grip on her lower arm tightened considerably to the point her arm was throbbing. She tripped again on the steps when her bare toes caught the hem of her dress but he only pulled her upright.

"Please!" she begged again when they passed between two tall wooden doors. She briefly noticed a small gathering of elves ahead of them but she could hardly pay them any mind, not when her arm felt like it was being ripped out.

"Release her, now!"

The King's command sent an icy shiver down her body – she'd recognize his voice anywhere – and so unexpected was their halt that it took her completely by surprise. In an instant, the guard released the hold on her arm as if he'd been zapped but she wasn't prepared for their sudden stop. She stumbled to the side and the back of her head cracked against the stone wall first and she fell to the floor in a heap of emerald fabric at his feet.

Her right hand reached up instinctively to cover the injured part of her head, while her left hand she cradled to her body; the steady throb of blood returning to her almost crushed limb.

The guard looked down at her in surprise, as if he couldn't figure out how she got down there in the first place. Then as she withdrew her hand from the back of her head, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the red tint that suddenly covered her fingers. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the blood. He stepped towards her as if he might try to help her up but the second command made him freeze, and a figure was suddenly standing over her.

"Do not touch her again," the figure snapped; his tone authoritative and commanding, much like the King's.

Legolas stared down at his fellow guard and friend with such fury that it made the soldier retreat in shock and surprise. He snapped to attention, understanding that right now the Prince was not his friend, but his commanding officer, and the King's glare was as cold and icy as his voice.

"Leave us!"

The King's demand was fulfilled at once and the hall emptied of guards and council members, leaving only himself, his son, the frightened crumpled heap on the floor, and the few sentries that stood on the platform by Thranduil's throne.

Never had Thranduil seen his guards treat one of their own kin like that before, and the fury that swirled within him was blinding.

Shyloh clutched the back of her head, but when Legolas crouched down next to her she recoiled away from him, eyes wide and fearful. He looked much like he had the day in the woods when he and his guards came, but the quiver on his back was near empty. He stared at her a moment as if trying to decide the best course of action. The King made up his mind for him, as the swirl of his silver and red robes came into her line of view. Legolas stood and stepped aside.

"Send for Galdiron," the King said gently as he bent down and carefully took her right hand in his. She flinched at his touch but he paid it no mind, and drew her bloodied hand away from the back of her head.

It wasn't like her head was bleeding waterfalls, but there was still a warm, throbbing sensation spreading across the back of her skull and down the nape of her neck.

Legolas left then, leaving Shyloh alone with the King. His face was drawn tight, a mixture of anger and disappointment as he glanced down at her hand.

"This was not why I sent for you," he said, and the tone of his voice made her flinch again.

Finally, she found her voice and it cracked when she spoke. "Why did you send for me? What did I do?"

His face darkened. "You did nothing."

"Guards barged into my room and dragged me down here for a reason," she said, just as Legolas returned. "I must have done something." She pulled her hand out of his and he straightened.

"Nothing to warrant this."

"Tauriel will be here shortly," Legolas said quietly to his father. "She should not be here for that." Shyloh frowned up at them, not understanding what they were talking about. Legolas gave her a look that told her he was clearly irritated and his eyes swept over her pitifully. She couldn't stand to look at him anymore, so she turned away as she tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.

The King sighed and looked back down at her. "This has not gone as planned."

"What of Nathanar?" asked Legolas. The behavior of his guard only moments ago would not go without its repercussions. He couldn't decide who he was angrier with; Nathanar, who happened to be a close friend of his, for literally dragging the elleth down here and injuring her, only adding more issues to an already complicated situation; or the guard who had been assigned as keeper of the keys, who allowed the keys to be stolen right out from under his nose resulting in the escape of thirteen prisoners. What a mess.

"You should not have sent him to bring her here," the King said heavily.

"I did not, I only sent Maethor and Horthor," Legolas said grimly, but that only made the King's frown deepen. Nathanar's actions were completely unjustified despite the fact that his brother was just killed in an orc attack along their very walls; which only happened because their prisoners decided to escape in a bunch of barrels down the river. The barrels themselves were supposed to be sent back yesterday for the bargeman to collect. Legolas was sure the Lakeman would be unhappy about spending the night waiting for the barrels to arrive, but that was the least of his worries.

The moment he and his guards returned from clearing the orcs from their borders, Legolas had gone straight to the King to inform him of the breach. Orders were sent to retrieve the Princess immediately, but he never expected Nathanar to treat her like he did, as if the whole thing had been her doing. He'd ordered Nathanar to go with his company as they carried the wounded and single fallen guard to the healing wards in the first place, but apparently he had other ideas.

She sat there quietly and listened to their exchange, and figured those must be the names of the three guards that barged into her room.

Nathanar must have been the one that dragged me, she thought.

Soft footsteps approached and a moment later a tall, dark haired stern looking elf appeared. He looked down at the heap on the ground with surprise and confusion, and she felt herself shrink under his assessing gaze.

"Take her to the healing wards," the King ordered in his calm and collected voice. "And let me know when you are finished."

Galdiron nodded and then he stepped up to her and eased her off the floor. With gentle hands, he examined the back of her head. Red blood stood out bright and vivid against the white hair and she tried not to wince when his fingers grazed the small lump that was now forming.

"I believe it looks worse than it is," Galdiron said after a quick assessment, then he pulled back the sleeve on her left arm, revealing the place just below her wrist. Already the purple bruises were forming and all she wanted to do was snatch her hand away and become invisible. He tisked his tongue and shook his head. "We will tend to that too."

With a satisfied nod from the King, Galdiron led her away down the hall, one hand gently leading her by her elbow. Like the others, he towered over her and she looked quite small walking next to him.

Thranduil watched them depart and then his scowl returned. "I will talk with her in private when we are finished here."

Legolas nodded reluctantly just as his eyes swept over the guards entering through the side passage. The familiar tint of red hair caught his eye, and he recognized his second in command immediately. He watched her approach, and for a second their eyes met, but she looked away quickly and focused on the ground before her. Tauriel's shoulders were squared and her face stern as she led the procession towards the platform where the King and Captain of the Guard had moved to. Behind her, being dragged carelessly much like Shyloh had been only moments ago, their captive struggled against the hold the guards had on him.

The orc was brought to his knees and Legolas took over, replacing the guard that brought him in. Tauriel stood off to the side, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the filth before them, but he noticed something was different about her. Her posture was suddenly much too stiff and the look in her eye seemed far off and distant; as if her mind were elsewhere and she wasn't really here. He did not have time to ponder it though. Drawing his long knife, he placed it under the orc's chin. The King was about to begin.

Shyloh cringed when she entered the healing wards of the Woodland Realm. Inside, four or five beds were already claimed by members of the guard. Still in full uniform, they were either sitting up or lying down based on the seriousness of their injuries, and were being tended to by other healers who were so focused on their tasks that they didn't even see the two of them pass through to the back of the room.

"Sit here," Galdiron instructed, as he led her to a bed in the corner. "I do not think it needs stitching, but it should be cleaned good."

She didn't say anything as she took her seat and he finally let her go and turned to a cabinet behind him. She recognized many of the various bottles and herbs that hung inside, not to mention the familiar aroma of Athelas.

"Ernil nin Legolas said you hit your head against the rock wall," he said, drawing her attention away from the cabinet. "Is that correct?"

He looked down at her and she nodded but didn't say anything, so he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Care to fill me in on the details?" he asked, but she wasn't listening as he gathered his supplies to clean her wound. Her eyes drifted back to the cabinet, and she mentally started going over all of the different herbs and tinctures, recalling as much as she could from her lessons with Lord Elrond.

Galdiron followed her gaze and then he eyed her curiously as he poured warm water into a bowl.

"You have an interest in healing?" he asked. He dipped a clean cloth into the warm water and picked up her hand first, washing the drying blood off of her fingers.

"Yes," she managed to say. "My uncle Lord Elrond was teaching me before I departed Rivendell."

"Lord Elrond you say? He is your uncle?" He had a hard time keeping the surprise from his voice but the elleth only nodded.

"I only worked with him for two years, but I studied for four years before that."

"So you are a healer then," he said and she nodded, even if she barely used any of her education during their trip. Although, she wouldn't deny the thought of sewing their mouths shut for the duration of their trip might have crossed her mind a few times. "Well that is interesting indeed. I had the pleasure of meeting and studying with Lord Elrond many years ago. He is very skilled in that area."

She nodded as he moved to the back of her head, and began dabbing it with a fresh cloth. The blood was strikingly bright against her white hair, and his forehead drew together in frustration. Whatever had possessed the guard to treat her like this he could not understand, but the messenger sent by Ernil Legolas only gave him a brief explanation before he hurried to the throne room.

"Have you been a healer long?" she asked quietly.

He hummed a reply. "Yes, I have been the Royal Healer for many a year. I am afraid much longer than my memory serves," he said lightly with a smile.

"Royal Healer?" she asked, her eyes widening a little.

"Yes, I tend mainly to the royal family should they need my skills," he said. He wrung out the towel in the bloodied water and replaced the bowl with fresh water.

"I apologize for taking you away from your duties," she said, suddenly feeling like a burden. Surely one of the other healers could have easily tended to her head. The Royal Healer's duties were to focus solely on the King and his family members, not a ward of the King.

"Nonsense," he said quickly. "You've taken me away from nothing the others couldn't handle easily. I only wish this experience had not befallen you, my Lady."

He looked down at her, when she grew quiet, sensing she was troubled and he frowned. "Would you like to talk about what is troubling you?" he asked casually.

"Something has happened, but I don't know what." She eyed the guards that were either leaving the healing hall or being removed of their armor for better access to their injuries. Something had definitely happened.

Galdiron was quiet for a moment and he followed her gaze as she watched the guards and other healers. Indeed, there had been an attack and he knew she could see that plain as day. He himself did not know much about this morning's events, only that orcs attacked the eastern borders. One fallen soldier was one too many in his opinion, and that of many others, but also rumor spread to his ears that the dwarves the Princess was traveling with were to blame. He, of course, would not spread information he knew little about, despite some of the others being a little loose with their tongues.

The King wished to speak with her after he finished, and he was sure she would find out soon enough. It was not his place to give her false ideas.

"I am sure you will find out once we are finished here," he said. "The King said he wished to speak with you."

She sighed heavily and winced as his fingers grazed the lump on her head. "I don't know if I want to know."