For Dwarves, none of them seemed to dislike being on water much. They splashed and tried to tip one another, until the rapids were enough fun by themselves. Kili never removed his arms from around my waist and I snuggled back happily, feeling very much as contented as a cat beside the fire, in spite of being soaking wet. It was a long time before Kili spoke up and broke me from my happy reprieve.

"We need to talk," He mumbled, half of him not wanting to speak of what he had in mind. I could feel the gaze of the Dwarves, though I could tell they were pretending not to listen. They would scrutinise every word. Dwarves were not ones for gossip, but they were avid eavesdroppers.

"Is something wrong?" Have I done something wrong? I could not stop the thought permeating my mind, nor think of anything I had done, but you were never certain with Kili, his moods were often as changing as the winds bringing once safe ships in to wreck.

He paused for a long moment, this was not going to be a happy conversation. "Do you remember that dream you talked about?"Kili asked cautiously. "The one with the woods and the man," He sighed, "The man who carried a bow." My back to his chest, I did not even have to turn to feel his brown knitting together with tension.

I knew the dream, the man had never truly concerned me. I had been more preoccupied with the image of my mother covered in blood than the man leading us. "What of it?" I queried, wary of the tense tone of his voice.

"The Elf." He replied, the strain breaking.

"Legolas?" I all but laughed aloud, "He is not the bowman in my dreams." I assured the Dwarf-prince with a shake of my head.

My amusement seemed only to further his frustration. "How are you so sure?" He growled.

My brow quirked, he surely did not believe that I could have dreams of an Elf that I never thought to exist, I had always thought it to have been my mystery father. "Legolas is light, the bowman is dark." I informed him, though I had been sure he already knew that "Besides, why would I dream of an Elf-prince I owe no allegiance to?"

"You went with him." Kili shot, trembling a little with the effort of not shouting. Not that it mattered, the Dwarves were no longer even pretending to be minding their own business.

"You said I should!" I countered hotly, he had been the one to convince me to leave in search of Bilbo with Legolas, I would not have gone without his leave.

Kili ruffled, his chest pushing out behind me, if I could see him I would be certain to see the tiny vein on his temples jumping with rage. "It matters not, you will not do it again."

"I don't understand your meaning." It sounded as though he were warning me, like I was some child who had done something that I was not to do again.

Kili grunted with frustration. "If we meet him again, you do not speak to him, you do not look at him." He left room for half a breath. "Are we clear?"

A river of indecision overflowed my mind, breaking the banks of reasoning. If the Elf decided to help me find my answers then I could not just ignore his presence, and if he did not help me I would likely never see him again anyway. "He knows who my father is, I might never find out-"

"You do not need him to tell you, we will find out ourselves." The Dwarf snapped. Though how he would decifer something I had never been close to finding myself, I did not know. Perhaps I would be bound to a life of ignorance. If that is to be the case, I would rather be told now.

"And what about Tauriel?" I asked, voicing another thought that bloomed by the river of my thoughts. "Will you be allowed to speak to her, to look upon her? To fawn over her?" I could hear the jealousy coating my words and I did not care, this Dwarf was pulling on my last nerve.

He stiffened, he had not heard me fully agitated before. "She is nothing to me."

I did not believe him. "If she were nothing, you would have agreed." I retorted heatedly. If Tauriel were truly nothing, he would have promised anything to have me agree to his demands. The though worried me. I had declined his order because I need to know where I came from, I do not know why he should refuse. I was his princess, was I not?

The barrels bobbed along quite languidly for the first few miles, neither of us talking, it was the last in which we had a few bumps. The first arrow struck a panel just below Thorin's chin, while the next missed, fluttering off to the side. We would not be so lucky as to hope that they would all have the accuracy of a blind squirrel.

Great hulking figures, so hideous that it seemed to cause them pain, emerged from the brush. Orcs flanked both sides of the riverbank, a few with arrows, a couple with broadswords. Most with ugly metal weapons, which I could only imagine were better for clubbing someone with than tickling.

I suddenly wished I had a barrel to myself, while sharing with Kili was comfortable, it did not make defending us any easier. Fortunately, Kili had not had a problem unsheathing his bow and notching an arrow. Unfortunately, I was unceremoniously shoved deeper down into the barrel and could no longer see what was happening. Perhaps I should have been glad, the sounds, though muffled from my position below the waterline, were not pleasant. Groans and yelps assaulted my ear drums, each one demanding it be heard over the next. Each shudder of the barrel as it hit a rock or as something hit it, threatened to split the already fragile skin of our vessel.

Kili put his legs into near every shot he took, flexing and switching his stance, trying to find what little purchase the barrel afforded him. Every small movement squashed me further, I would be the smallest Hobbit in the world if he keeps this up!

With one fluid movement Kili kicked up from the bottom of the barrel, propelling himself up and out of the barrel. I poked my head up, now able to see. And I promptly ducked back down. Narrowly avoiding an axe to the throat. The assailant was too far into his swing to try again for a few seconds. I reached into my boot with just enough time to parry the next blow.

My next attempt at surfacing was more successful, I could stand almost steadily with the rocking of my vessel, free movement to the waist and plenty of room to manoeuvre my feet. There were orcs everywhere by this point; in the water, on the banks, on the low bridge that hung over the barred Watergates that separated the border of Mirkwood and beyond. In addition to the Orcs were a people even more surprising.

Elves found purchase with their feet above water wherever there was a surface to do so, that seemed to include many a Dwarf's head. Their arrows flying at the Dwarves, though the look in their eyes suggested that they would not mind if a few Dwarves were caught in the crossfire. I just hoped they would not take me for a Dwarf.

For a moment I believed they would have been sent by Thranduil to guard the borders of the forest, but they were far from the city, this gate would be none of his concern, he probably only used it for trading. Perhaps they had been ordered to reprimand Legolas for freeing a prisoner? More likely they were here to round up the Dwarves before they were made to look incompetent. Which they were. If a lone Hobbit can spring thirteen Dwarves free, then how well guarded can their dungeons possibly be?

Not that now was an opportune time for querying the actions of Elves. There were more pressing matters at hand. Such as the Orc with a bow, which I only noticed as a black-feathered arrow struck the front of my barrel, splitting the panels fantastically. I hooked a hand to the top of the bridge, hauling myself up as hastily as I could, probably having the grace of an elephant as I did so. After a slight slip, I managed to get to my knees atop the bridge. Too slow.

A black feather raced my way as I was still struggling to my feet. I could not dodge it, not fully. It found a home nestled in my shoulder. With searing pain I yanked the shaft from its burrow, wincing at the sickening tugging sensation it brought about. The shaft exited, but not the head. That would have to be a problem for later. I could hardly make out where the nearest Dwarf was, the edges of my vision shimmering and swaying.

It was all I could do to raise my sword to parry the attack of an Orc wielding a metal instrument that looked better use to a blacksmith than a warrior, but no doubt had it hit me it would have sufficed in its purpose. I could not even turn to see whoever called me, though I was sure they were probably busy enough without my reply. Around me, whenever one Orc fell two more seemed to take its place. The particular Orc I duelled cut an arc high over my head, intending to bring his instrument down upon my head. Instead it dropped to the ground with a clatter as I thrust my sword through the soft part of his exposed throat, forcing it up into his head and withdrawing it with great difficulty. The weight of my weapon seemed to increase by the second. Why did the Orc with the arrows have to choose my preferred shoulder, surely he could have settled for the other? The pain seared my veins, I could feel my blood turning to ash as the throbbing became more insistent. My pinky finger was beginning to go numb, I was never good at anatomy, but the first thing to cross my mind was nerve damage. I was lucky in my standing still, that the next thing to cross my mind was not an arrow.

More Orcs were trudging onto the bridge and I finally located Kili. Hunched by the lever to release the gate, and in a headlock, Kili was gripping the lever with all his strength. The gates were creaking their way through the water slower than I would have liked. Before I had made it halfway toward Kili, a golden arrow pierced the head of the Orc man-handling him. I turned to see which Elf had bothered to save a Dwarf, only to have to duck into a forward roll to avoid the towering form of an Orc toppling over. As the Orc hit the water, I noted he also had a golden arrow embedded in his brain to match his friend, they should start a club.

I was almost unsurprised to see the arrows had come from Legolas, though I thought he would be trying to get back in favour with his father rather than defend the Dwarves. He nodded my way once and then returned to slaying Orc after Orc, sometimes earning multiple kills with only one arrow. His speed and agility was something to be marvelled at. If I had such an opportunity, I would watch him fight until there were no foes left in existence. Sadly, poor Bilbo was not having too great a time of it, what with an Orc swimming his way and a sprightly Elf perched one-legged on his head.

The Orc in questing got no further than two meters from the Hobbit before my own white-feathered arrow struck his back, right where his heart should be, if Orcs indeed have hearts. The Elf, quickly relieved Bilbo and used the floating Orc as her next mode of transport. Bilbo's barrel clattered to join the others, Thorin securing it to his with a bit of old twine, somehow now he did not want to lose the Hobbit.

Kili had finally managed to pull the lever full, the gates now open wide. He too had acquired an arrow, black-feathered and protruding from his calf and was grimacing in pain. He would not be able to pull it out, he could never remove so much as a splinter from his finger. He would not require me to remove his, however.

I watched absently as Tauriel crouched beside him, placing a hand gently upon his face. She whispered something softly, in a broken sort of Sindarin, her eyes glazed as though she saw more than a Dwarf-prince. It was as though she saw a thousand stars. She tilted his chin away from his wound, slowly speaking calming words all the while, plucking the arrow from his wound like a flower from the ground. His eyes were full of awe and somehow joyful. It seemed he felt nothing of his wound, 'tis but a scratch.

My own injury numbed, the agony fleeing my shoulder and taking up residence within my chest. The Elf-maiden heaved Kili over the bridge, dropping his gingerly into a barrel. The Dwarf looked dazed, still peacefully disconnected from the on-going chaos around him. Love has that effect, I should know.

Many of the barrels had been utterly destroyed in the fray, none remained unoccupied. I would have to share someone's. Kili was out of the question, despite what I had seen, injuring his leg any further was the sole cause of this aversion. If I hit it the wrong way, he would be in even more torment than he already seemed to be in. It was a wonder he managed to stay standing, putting weight on his leg must be awful, even if he was slumped down and barely conscious.

"Veyra!" The blond Dwarf-prince held out his hand, his vessel just inches from the bridge. "Here!"

I leaped from the bridge. At that same moment a huge Orc tackled me mid-air, knocking all my breath from my lungs. I landed in the water with a painful flop on my poor shoulder, surfacing with burning lungs. I could not breathe, I could not see. On the edge of my failing hearing, I could hear my name, over and over. From all sides, I heard shouts for me, but I could not respond. I must have lost my wits in the fall.

Hands dragged my through the water. My first thought was that Fili was the greatest Dwarf in the land, coming to my rescue. My second thought was that Fili would have been far gentler in his movements, and he would have smelt an awful lot better.

The bank scraped across my face, I was too tired and incapacitated to fight my assailant. I would likely pass out before the worst happened, thank the Valar! My head felt odd, fuzzy and yet sharp all at once, the blackness taking hold. This time I let it wash over me. I did not need to be conscious when the dismemberment began.

-8-

Soft grass tickled the bare skin around my shoulder. Funny that, I had thought I had a blouse on earlier, not to mention a cloak and bag. I could finally breathe without a tsunami of flames terrorising my lungs, which was always a good sign. My shoulder hurt considerably less and I could feel no other wounds, just a lot of aches, but I was becoming used to aching by this point. I could no longer hear the river rushing by. I assumed the Orcs had taken me to their camp, though I could hear only soft shuffling and the movement of a small tin pan. A smell of mint and thyme and something else permeated the air, accompanied by a soft, wet squelching as though something were being stirred. Slowly, I opened my eyes, straining to sit, helped by cool hands that left me feeling hot when they left. We were in a glade by the lake, hidden by the treeline. The lake before me was far wider that I would had thought, a dark shape on the horizon did not tell me whether it was the other side or Lake Town.

"Na vedui!" Came the voice next to me.

At last? What happened? "Mani marte?"

Legolas shifted, slathering a thick green paste over a piece of cloth. "An Orc grabbed you," He said in concentration, lining up the cloth with the wound on my shoulder. "He is dead. It is over."

"The arrow head?" I asked through gritted teeth as he applied the poultice. It did not hurt, but it was not pleasant. It prompted an itch deep within the torn flesh, too deep to scratch without causing more damage. Just another thing to live with.

"Gone." He informed me, without sounding harsh. He placed a spare shirt from my bag around me, careful not to jostle my shoulder. "You were lucky to be unconscious. It was most unpleasant." He grimaced, I noticed his hands still held the red brown stain of dried blood that refuses to come off.

"Thank you." I could manage no greater speech, the wound no longer seared, but my whole body aced with the effort of staying conscious. "Where are they?"

"The Dwarves?" They did not seem to be on his mind at all. He was back at the pan once more. "They should be halfway across the Lake by now. They will be in Esgaroth by nightfall."

So they left without me? "We should get going." Whenever I reach them, I shall give them hell for leaving me like this. Injured and with an Elf, not just any Elf, but one that I am certain more than half of them would gladly see ravaged by wargs.

"Daro,"

I did as bid and halted my movements.

"She is watching over them." He assured me, mistaking my haste for concern. I knew they would be fine. "You need to be still a moment." He instructed.

"I'm tired." I confessed. I no longer cared whether he thought me brave or heroic. I was tired and hurting.

He gave a sympathetic half-smile, "Of course you are, a morgul shaft, pierced you." He explained, "It is fortunate that this wood held the right herbs."

A morgul shaft? That should mean death. It is more fortunate that this wood had the right Elf. I would be thanking him until the end of time if he keeps this up. I should thank him for freeing me from the prison, for saving Kili from the head-locking Orc, saving me from more Orcs, digging an arrowhead from my shoulder, and making an antidote for the poison. I had no doubt that he sent Tauriel to watch over the Dwarves for my benefit, but I did not know how I felt about that yet.

"Av-'osto," Legolas soothed, "You are safe now. It will heal in time, the poison did not spread far."

Why would I be afraid? I do not think this Elf would let me fail. He killed Orcs for me, he stood up to Tauriel for me, and he would not let me die so easily.

"Hannon le, Legolas." I thanked him, unable to explain just how much I was thankful for.

He nodded, deep in thought, smiling after a moment. "Your Sindarin is good." He complimented wryly. "Pray tell, how is it you know this tongue?"

"My mother used to teach me," Somehow it was not as difficult to talk about with someone who actually knew her. "Quenya as well. I used to get them awfully confused." I laughed at the memories, "I would start with one language and end in another." I did not mention that I used to insert Khuzdul words into Elvish phrases by accident.

"I should have known." He shook his head with a small chuckle. "She loved languages."

I laughed, "And adventures." A sigh I did not expect left my lips, "I am not quite sure I am cut out for them." I admitted. I could defend myself, but I do not think I would like to live like this forever.

"You would like to go back home?" Legolas questioned, curiosity alight in those glittering eyes of his.

Shaking my head, I answered honestly. "No, I never liked it all that much." It had never been a home to me, I had simply never known anywhere else.

"Ah," The Elf patted my good shoulder understandingly. "You would prefer to be with the Dwarf." He said knowingly.

"Not right now." I answered without thinking, it was too easy to answer this Elf. Not that it mattered, I had a feeling he would know if I lied anyway. "He forbade me to leave him. Told me I was not to speak to you." I could not help the feeling of being compelled to tell him everything.

"A man should never forbid his other half to do anything, if there is a problem there are other solutions." He expressed sagely. "And?" In some strange way he had known I was holding something back from him.

"And he could not promise the same for himself and another." I remained vague, hoping he would leave it there.

He knew either way. "Tauriel?"

I nodded. So I was not the only one who had noticed that… spark between the Dwarf-prince and the Elf-maiden. That did not necessarily make me feel any better about it

Legolas leaned back on his haunches, studying me carefully as though I might break at any moment. "And… How does that make you feel?"

I deliberated for a moment, it was certainly not a pleasant feeling. "I do not like being told what to do, especially when it is unfair and one sided. I have done no wrong." I could not see how I had done anything to provoke his orders, I had done nothing that could threaten our relationship, even if he believes my leaving with Legolas to be wrong it was his consent and urge to go that persuaded me.

Legolas chewed his lip thoughtfully, dragging his teeth along the lower so hard that I thought he would break the delicate looking skin. "You feel he would be unfaithful?" He asked cautiously.

"We are not married." If I had been braver I would have admitted the truth.

He shook his head in pity. "That is no answer."

"I – I am unsure." I whispered, knowing he would hear me perfectly. I thought I knew Kili as well as I knew myself, but his actions, the way he treats Tauriel, those I could never have expected. I truly felt I did not know the Dwarf who had braided my hair any more than I knew the Elf who had saved my life.

"I am sorry," He sat properly, placing a hand atop mine upon my thigh and tracing small, comforting circles. "It is not my place to ask these things. Forgive me."

I refuse his apology, "There is no need. It is… therapeutic to talk these things through with someone." It felt better to know it was not just me who thought the situation unjust, even if it did make me uncomfortable knowing that others could see the growing cracks opening up between Kili and I.

Legolas frowned, though it was an unhappy sight, I could not say it marred any of his beauty. He was a serious fellow and any emotion extended his handsomeness, though admittedly I did prefer the teasing grins he sometimes gifted. "It is improper for me to say," He began. "But you should not allow him to dictate your life in such a way. In the ideal, he would never do that to you."

I agreed. "I do not understand why he has done it." There was no reason to it.

"Perhaps he feels guilty." Legolas reasoned, his rational side taking over, "He can see what is happening between he and Tauriel and he is fearful that the same will happen with you and I."

I laughed coldly. "Perhaps he does not know me as I thought he did." It is not the first time my thoughts had drifted this way. "I could never betray him."

Legolas nodded solemnly, maybe he is more in tune with me than the Dwarf. "I should not have sent Tauriel."

I did not answer, in a way I agreed with him, but in another sense there was no harm to it. The damage had been done at the hands of another. I did not want the Elf to blame himself for whatever might happen between Tauriel and Kili, I did not think I could blame him, or Tauriel for that matter. If anything happened I knew I would blame myself. I should never have been foolish enough to believe that a half-breed would ever be good enough for a prince, or to think that I could compete romantically with an Elf, after all they are the ones nearly every love story sings of. There are no love songs for abominations.

"I have decided, I will help you." Legolas announced, breaking into my thoughts and quashing them.

I started. "You have done so much, I could not ask for more." Though I was refusing politely, a spark of hope ignited.

"I will take you to your father."