Two days pass before Tauriel is able to visit again. I occupied myself by sleeping and staring at the wall. I have no motivation to do anything else, nor the energy. My meals here are just enough to keep me from going hungry, but not enough to provide proper nutrition.

I ignore her when I first hear her enter and call my name. Only after she calls again do I speak.

"Do you know what your king did?"

Tauriel's silence is hesitant. "I do not," she says, phrasing it like a question.

"He disgraced my friend. He cut his hair! Your king removed my friend's beads and humiliated him!" My volume increases with my anger, heedless of whoever might be around to listen.

Tauriel doesn't speak for a while, then says, "I am sorry Sonia, but I do not understand the full significance of this act."

Some of my anger deflates. Of course Tauriel doesn't know how significant those beads are; she probably never learned anything about dwarves or their culture.

"Dwarves take great pride in their hair, and spend a lot of time caring for it," I say, thinking back to all the times I saw combs and bottles of oil used around campfires and during lunch breaks.

"They use beads to signify which house they belong to, great deeds or battles, even just for decoration. When your king stole Fili's beads and cut his hair, he was stripping Fili of his heritage and culture. That's only done to the worst of criminals among the dwarves. Dwarves may cut their own hair in certain circumstances, but never anyone else's without express permission. Your king humiliated my friend, and basically said he was no longer fit to be a dwarf. He stole some of his greatest treasures."

Tauriel's face is full of horror, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. "I understand," she gasps. "If someone locked me away from the stars, where no light shines, keeping me from the thing that gives life meaning; the thing my people love and cherish most…" She trails off, looking sick. "I understand," she repeats.

My mouth presses in a grim line, sorry that I even had to explain this.

"Is there anything we can do to remedy this?" Tauriel asks, surprising me.

"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. "I would like to see him, but I have no way to get down there."

That's not true, but she doesn't need to know about the ring.

Tauriel sets down her candle, leaning forward and murmuring, "I might have a way, if you're willing to do it."

"What do you suggest?"

Two hours later there's another knock on my door. I scramble for the ring and shove it into my boot.

"Enter," I call, and in walks Legolas, returned from his spider hunt in the south.

We stare at each other warily, and finally he says, "I have heard I am to escort you to the dungeons."

"What for?"

"Tauriel has informed me my father wishes for you to see the dwarves. He believes it will be…beneficial."

I haul myself up, not bothering to ask how exactly it will be beneficial to me.

I follow him silently out the door, walking by his side as he leads me to the tree's hall and down into the bowels of the palace.

When we reach the cells I force myself to walk slowly past and look each of my friends. Most of them are huddled in corners, eyes shut and ignoring everything around them. Everyone's hair seems to be intact, even if they do seem too thin to be healthy.

We finally reach Fili's cell, and a gasp escapes me before I can stop it.

Fili looks terrible. Aside from his shaved head and beard, there are cuts all over his face, thin and bright red. He's too thin. The worst are his hollow eyes, which seem to burn through me as though I'm not even there.

"Let me in. I need to see him."

Legolas raises an eyebrow and purses his lips.

"Please."

Legolas sighs, and signals to the guard standing down the way. The guard unlocks the cell, but Legolas grabs me by the arm before I can enter.

"Five minutes."

I shake him off and rush to Fili's side as the door clangs shut behind me.

"Fili! Fili?" I grab one of his hands, trying to warm it between mine. He's so cold.

His eyes focus on me, and there's a little flicker of recognition before they glaze back over, staring at nothing.

"Fili please look at me. You're going to get out of here. I'm working to get you out of here."

Fili coughs, and it takes me a minute to realize he's trying to laugh.

"Fili?"

He wheezes, then rasps, "There's no point."

"What?"

Fili tries to push himself up, but collapses. I help him when he tries again, settling him against the wall. I grab his hand again, to ground both him and me.

"What were you saying? Fili." I throw a glance at the door. There's no sign of the elves, but I'm sure they're listening.

"We can't get out. There's no escape. Give up."

"Fili, no." Tears begin to form in my eyes. The Fili I know isn't broken like this. Fili is smart and strong, more than capable of handling orcs, trolls, and obnoxious kings.

"Fili, do not give up. I know it's hard, and I know it seems like there's no reason not to fight. But there is."

I lower my voice. "Think of the mountain. Think of your uncle. You can do this Fili. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, and if anyone can pull out of this and come out even stronger, it's you."

Fili laughs his horrible croaky laugh again. "You know what I think, Aspen?"

"What?"

"You're a liar."

The words punch me in the gut and leave me choking for air.

"I'm not," I protest, but my voice is strained. "I'm not lying to you."

"You are. You've lied since the beginning. You know we're not leaving. And you're going to leave me."

"Fili, no! I'm not lying! Why would you say that?"

"You said you would be there for us. That's what you are. A liar and—."

"No, Fili, stop. No, it's clear you're not feeling well. You're depressed, I understand—"

The door clangs open and Legolas drags me out by the arm.

"Time's up," he says.

"No!" I struggle against his grip, trying to get to Fili, who has slumped down and shut his eyes. "Fili! Fili!"

Legolas finally succeeds in pulling me out of the cell.

The door clangs, the lock screeching into place.

"Fili!"

Legolas pulls me past the now shouting and cursing dwarves, who seem to blur and burn before my eyes. Their lips curl over bared teeth; their hands clench the cell bars. I lock eyes with Bombur, and my heart wrenches in my chest. I renew my struggles against Legolas, who snaps at the guards to come hold me.

The elves march me out of the dungeon, moving so fast I can't get my feet below me. Legolas looks tense, his eyes narrowed and lips thin. But perhaps that's how he always looks around humans and dwarves.

Tears stream freely down my face by the time we enter the king's throne room. Thranduil is already waiting for us, talking softly to one of his nobles over to one side. Tauriel stands at attention at foot of the throne, still and silent.

The king straightens and comes to the center of the room, stopping a few feet away from our small group. The noble he was with scurries off.

"So you visited my dungeons. Did you find the trip enlightening?"

I don't answer, letting the silence speak for me. I'm tired of playing games with him.

"You are keeping your thoughts to yourself," he murmurs. "You have nothing to fear from me. I will listen carefully."

I still do not speak, just cry and sniff a little.

"Are you so moved by what you saw? Is it because it is disturbing to you? Or do you have a closer attachment?" The king bends down, and what looks like concern shines in his eyes. He's so close I could touch him.

"Speak to me."

Time passes. The king threatens, cajoles, persuades, yells, and whispers. None of it is enough to open my mouth and let my thoughts flow. I never want to speak to him again.

The ring presses into the bottom of my foot. It's time to finally use it, though I want to heave at the very thought of doing so.

Eventually the king relents and motions to Tauriel. Before he leaves, he says, "We are not done. I will speak with you again in the morning, and perhaps I can convince you to speak then."

His eyes hold a dark promise in them that makes me want to shudder.

Then he's gone and Tauriel is there, daring to hold me in her arms as Legolas huffs in disgust and leaves, following his father. When we're alone, Tauriel lets go and tugs on my hand.

She pulls me through the hall, so fast that I have to skip to keep up. At first, it seems like she's leading me back towards my room, but then she makes an abrupt right turn and pulls me down another hall. Then another and another, closer and closer to the sound of thundering water.

"Wait here," she hisses as she shoves me into a small closet and shuts the door. An eternity seems to pass as I wait for her in the dark, with only a faint sliver of light at the bottom of the door.

Finally the door opens, revealing Tauriel with a leather bag slung over one shoulder, my partisan in her other hand, and a pair of boots at her feet.

"Put these on," she says, nudging the boots towards me.

"What are we doing?" I ask as I scramble to put on the boots, making sure to transfer the ring into my new pair. As much as I think I know, I need to be sure.

"You are escaping," she says as she glances around with darting eyes, always alert and watchful. She hands me my partisan, and I can't help the smile on my face when I grip it for the first time in weeks. It feels good to have the wood against my palms, rough yet smooth.

"I've been planning this for a few days now, even before I formally met you. I will give you further instructions once we are free of the palace."

"What about the dwarves?" I ask.

"I'm still working on a plan for them, but I will free them as soon as I can. The bag has food and a water skin that you can fill in the river. The food should last for a couple of days at least. And I made sure to get as many of your old things as I could."

When at last she's satisfied that I'm ready, she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Let's go," she says.

I hurry after her, following first down one hall, then another. We make a left turn, and stop when Tauriel holds up a hand. I guess we're close to the entrance to Mirkwood, which is probably flanked by guards. No doubt there are guards on the other side of the walls, watching the forest.

Tauriel grabs my hand and squeezes, then hurriedly turns a corner. I can't hear what they say to each other, but soon I hear the sound of running footsteps fading underneath the sound of a nearby waterfall. Tauriel appears at the turn and motions with her hand for me to come.

As soon as I make the turn, I see Tauriel opening the doors of Mirkwood, revealing the bridge leading into the woods beyond.

"Hurry," she whispers and rushes me through. She ignores the guards on either side of the door, and leads me quickly across the bridge and into the trees. We go deeper before we veer off our path, travelling in what I imagine must be a wide arc north around the palace.

We keep the river in earshot, following it without seeing it. Tauriel shows no signs of slowing, and I wonder how far we're going to go before she decides we're safe. We walk for about ten more minutes before we emerge onto a steep riverbank. There's no sign of the palace, or any guards.

We stop for a rest and a bite to eat, and then Tauriel explains how she got me through the doors. She told the guards at the door that there were other guards a couple hallways over who were having digestive problems. I raise an eyebrow at this, but she pretends not to see and continues speaking.

The guards stationed outside the palace disagreed with the king's orders concerning my imprisonment, and agreed to overlook my escape for a little extra coin. With their help Tauriel managed to snag enough food and water to last for two days, in addition to my partisan.

"This is as far as I can take you," she says. "This is the north side of the river so you will not need to cross it. Follow the river until you come to some huts; these are Mirkwood elves, but they should not bother you if you keep out of sight. Wait until night, then skirt the village and keep the river in sight. After this there are two paths you can take. The first is to follow the tree line north and find the remnants of the road that lead to Laketown. But if you travel this way you may run into my guards, and there will be nothing I can do to help you escape again."

I nearly choke on my bread when she says this, and after gulping some water I check to see how serious she is. There's a deep furrow between her brows.

She's scared.

I realize that if the guards find me they'll take me straight to the king. I can't imagine how that meeting will go. And what will he do to the dwarves? Or the elves in his guard? What will happen to Tauriel?

"What's the second way?" I ask.

"The second path is to keep following the river until you come to the shores of the Long Lake. You will have to be careful with your supplies when you travel through the marshes. The elves who travel through there tell me of some water snakes and other animals, but nothing too serious. There are human boatpeople who travel through that way, and they can take you to Laketown."

"But there's no guarantee that there will be any boatpeople. You don't know when they come through."

Tauriel hesitates before she finally answers. "I do not know. But I remember hearing that barges come through at least once every two days. Sometimes twice every day."

So these are my choices. Follow the woods north, and risk getting captured by elves, or go through the marshes, risk snakes and other water creatures, for the slim chance of hitching a ride on a barge.

Tauriel packs her food away and stands, stretching and shaking out her legs. "I must leave you now. I have my duties to return to, and I cannot arouse suspicion."

"Tauriel," I call out as she starts to walk away. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

There is silence, and then she replies with a smile, "You are welcome. Glenn-in sidh a lothron i Eldar tir-nia cin." With that, she melts back into the forest, and I turn to the river.

I take a deep breath and readjust my pack on my back.

I can do this. I can make it to Laketown and get help for the dwarves. Right?

I hadn't even realized it, so slowly it crept up, but I've come to rely on the company deeply. Without them, I don't know who or what I am. My entire being in Middle Earth is wrapped up in their story, their quest, their success.

Who am I without them?

Perhaps a more pressing question right now is how will I survive without them?

I've never been by myself in Middle Earth before, except those few hours before Thorin found me, which don't really count. I don't know enough of survival skills, or the surrounding geography, to do well on my own here. Sure, I'm not as bad as I was, but I'm nowhere near ready to surviving on my own.

I push that thought out of my mind. One thing at a time. For now I just need to concentrate on following the river to the huts.

I move slowly along the river, because after more than two weeks of inactivity, and several days of no food or water, my body is weak. The path, if it can be called that, is rocky. I fall down a couple of times, scraping my hands.

At one point my ankle catches and twists, sending me sprawling. I squeal, then bite my lip to prevent any more sounds or tears from escaping. The throbbing ache spreads from my ankle, up my calf, and I heave, trying to breathe. I feel around my ankle with bloodied fingers and palms, noting the swelling. It will need to be wrapped. Rummaging in my bag, I pull out a strip of cloth, remove my boot, and wrap the ankle so it will stabilize. After a few sips of water, I pull the boot back on. Then I take a few more sips, and some deep breaths.

"Come on Aspen. You can't stay here, gotta keep moving, keep moving forward. Come on Aspen. You've got this, keep going, you've—keep going gotta keep going keep moving keep going."

The tears fall down my cheeks as I take a few steps forward, but the litany keeps running in my head as I hobble on.

I have to keep going. For the company. For me.

Can't stop.

My pace remains slow throughout the day, the throbbing in my ankle subsiding to a dull ache. I have to stop for several small sips of water, tiring much more quickly now than I did when travelling with the company.

By the time the sun sets, I'm exhausted, both from all the walking and my ankle, but also the constant fear and paranoia. Walking on the edge of the woods with no clue what's in there, watching you, stalking along with you, is no fun at all.

The light is almost completely gone when I see blobs on the horizon resolving into the small huts Tauriel told me about.

This is my first stop.

I walk a little further, then collapse on the ground, helping myself to some water and a chunk of bread. Then I curl up and sleep, knowing this close to the village animals aren't likely to attack me.

The moon is high in the sky when I wake, and far off I can hear splashes from the river. The sunburn on my face stings as I sit up, scrubbing sleep from my eyes. I drink some more water, squinting to see where to go next. If I skirt around the back of the village, ducking slightly into the tree line, I should be okay.

Careful of my ankle as I walk, I move slowly around the village, sure to keep it in sight and to my right when I slip into the forest. I pass by without incident, even when I risk being seen filling up my water skin with clean water in a barrel behind a house.

I walk through the woods until the village is far behind me, and move back to walk on the bank when I hear nothing but the river. I estimate another three hours have passed when I stop for food. I pick my way down the bank to soak my ankle, thinking of the choice ahead of me.

Follow the trees, or follow the river? I don't like the idea of water snakes, and I don't like the idea of not finding a barge, but I like the idea of being captured even less. What good does it do me to escape, only to be recaptured and taken back to the king? I may as well give up on the quest entirely. The dwarves would rot in their cells for months, if not years.

But if I followed the trees and didn't run into any elves, I'd definitely have an easier time walking. I wouldn't have to worry about my supplies getting wet, or dealing with snakes. I shudder as I think about leeches attaching to my skin, sucking my blood. What if I never find a barge? I could still go north, although it would probably take several days. I couldn't go too far out into the marshes either, because I could get lost and never find my way back to shore again.

With the last thought I push myself up, dusting bread crumbs off my lap. Thranduil shouldn't miss me until later in the morning, but I don't want to take any chances. I don't want to be caught by any guards he sends out.

I walk for what must be hours before I stop again. The trees have changed, becoming less dark and grim. The river is broader and slower than it was closer to the palace. The country breathes easier. I collapse next to a boulder and sip from my water skin, biting my lip at how light it is. I don't know how much longer I'll be out here, and I'd really rather not drink from the river if I don't have to.

My ankle throbs. Every step I've taken has been painful and I've slowed tremendously, to the point where I'm not much faster than a snail. Hopefully I've gone far enough that I can afford to rest a little and ease the pain.

I try to sleep, but it never comes. I'm not used to sleeping under an open sky anymore. I'm also by myself, with none of the dwarves nearby to keep the watch. I remember Fili's croaky laugh, and Bombur's dead eyes, and shiver under the hot sun. I said I would be there for them, and I abandoned them.

Fili was right.

Eventually I slip into a fitful doze, starting and waking every thirty minutes or so. I only manage about two hours of sleep before paranoia makes me start walking again.

When I reach the tree line, I eat the last of my food and drink my water. I'm grateful to Tauriel for her help, but she didn't pack enough food. Elves and humans have different metabolism rates, I suppose. I check and rewrap my ankle. The swelling has not gone down, and it still throbs.

And now I have a decision to make. Do I follow the tree line, or go into the marshes? I think about the risks of each, and the dwarves. An image of the king flashes in my mind, and then Tauriel appears.

"Marshes it is," I mutter, leaving the trees behind, and stepping out onto the very exposed plains. I try to move quickly through the tall grasses lining the river, because I have no doubt that the elves would chase me down if they saw me.

I walk until the sun sets, then walk a little more. Behind me, the edge of the forest is a distant green and brown line on the horizon. When I find one of the scruffy bush and tree that dot the landscape, I doze until the morning, partisan in hand, feeling safer out of the forest. I imagine the king can't find me out here; can't see me if I'm out of his forest.

I continue walking along the river bank, which is no longer steep and rocky. Instead it's sandy and level with the river itself, almost like a beach. I think of the dwarves, wishing I had been more cunning. I could have made a new alliance, or beaten Thranduil at his game. Then I could have freed the dwarves, and we could be together.

In my mind Bombur's eyes change to Fili's, which change to Thorin's, hard and full of judgment. What would he say to me now? A thin laugh escapes when I realize he'll probably kick me out of the company. A person who leaves for her own benefit, to save her own skin, has no business protecting others.

I follow a turn in the river. The ground under my feet is smells rich and muddy. My boots squelch with each step. I look up to get my bearings, and gasp.

The Lonely Mountain, its top piercing a cloud, is in full view from my vantage point. It's huge, at least as big as any in the chain of the Misty Mountains, or the Rocky Mountains back on Earth.

And to think that the dwarves want to reclaim it. I don't know why but in my mind it was always smaller.

Gradually, the sand gives way to grasses and reeds. I drink the last of my water, and take off my boots when I'm walking through dirty water rather than watery dirt, tucking the ring into my pack. When the water level gets higher I hold my boots and partisan across my chest, instead of letting them swing at my sides.

Over the course of the day, I get soaking wet. The last dry land disappeared hours ago, and my arms shake from carrying my boots and partisan above my head, the water up to my chest in some places. My legs and toes are numb from the cold, and where my arms are exposed from my fallen sleeves there are countless mosquito bites. I'm pretty sure I've got a leech somewhere on my leg. My toes just barely meet the bottom in some places. I have to stop a lot just to catch my breath. I've kept the open river, where the water moves too fast for grasses to grow, to my right, but the further I walk the further away it seems to be.

A thought I have ignored for hours wiggles its way back into my mind. Where will I sleep? What will I do when the sun goes down? I lost sight of both the mountain a while back, and there aren't any trees sticking out anywhere I can see.

The sun sinks lower, and I'm about to resign myself to walking north through the night when out in the river I see a figure. A figure on a boat, maybe about fifty yards away. I gape, then start moving as fast as I can towards it. I can't tell if it's a man or an elf, but at this point I don't care. Capture suddenly sounds a lot better than a watery death.

"Hey! Hey!" I try to get the figure's attention, waving my boots in the air. "I need help! Help me! Help—" The ground gives way underneath my feet and my foot twists, wrenching my ankle further. My head goes under, and my boots and weapon slip out of my hands. I can't hear, can't see. Everything is cold, and the water tastes of dirt. I scramble to try to come up for air. My other foot lands on a very sharp rock and I gasp, inhaling water. I surface, gasping and coughing violently to try to expel it from my lungs, even as my legs move weakly, trying to propel me forward.

"Please! Help!" My cries are weak, and I can't see anything because of the water in my eyes. "Pl—"

A pair of strong hands grip my biceps, hauling me forward through the water, until we stop and another pair of hands grabs me and haul me over the edge of the boat. I flop none too graciously to the floor and spend the next several minutes coughing up my lungs, clutching my midsection like I'm about to fall apart.

When the coughing finally subsides, a flask is shoved into my face.

"Here. Drink this." My eyes follow the offered flask to the arm, to a shoulder and a face, to eyes peering down at me, the expression a mix of annoyance and concern. I prop myself up on my elbow and take a few sips.

"Now, do you want to explain to me why you were so far out in that gods-forsaken marsh?"