Chapter I

Tauriel gazed down at the young dwarf lying on the table before her, trying desperately to reign in her emotions. It is not often that an elf is overcome by feelings, so for Tauriel it was not common at all to feel as torn apart by conflicting emotions as she did at that moment.

Relief. She had made it in time, had found Kíli before he could drift into the world of shadows, forever lost to her.

Pride. She had done it, had healed him by following her instincts, not really having nearly as much practice at accessing her gift of healing as she had with her bow or her blades. She was a soldier first and foremost, a fighter.

Doubt. Hesitation. She should not be here at all, should not have come, should not have stayed. Least of all she should allow the dwarf to touch her, tenderly.

Kíli's eyes had drifted shut again. She became fully aware of her surroundings once more, having drifted into a trance-like state during her healing, a world in which only she and the young dwarf existed. Suddenly feeling quite self-conscious, Tauriel made to withdraw her hand, which was still holding Kíli's in a feather-light touch.

At that Kíli's grip tightened convulsively and his breathing accelerated at once. Tauriel stilled in her movement, reveling in the warmth that his bold touch caused to spread through her hand, a feeling that was echoed somewhere deep inside her chest.

"Stay," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Tauriel glanced around herself, realizing to her surprise that they were, in fact, alone. The other dwarves had disappeared, and the two human girls could be heard speaking quietly in one of the adjoining rooms. Shrugging, she used her left foot to pull a stool closer to the table on which Kíli was lying and sat down, her hand never leaving that of her patient. A few more moments could hardly increase the damage she already done to her career, leaving Mirkwood without permission of her king, staying to heal Kíli instead of following her prince.

Thranduil. Legolas. She grimaced. What had she done? She had always struggled with her own impulsiveness, her temper often threatening to corrupt her good standing as a captain in her king's guard. But to risk her achievements of several hundreds of years over a dwarf whose soft brown eyes tugged at her silly heart when she gazed into them… She would never be forgiven. Doubtful as she had sometimes been of the king's decisions, she still felt a deeply rooted loyalty to him and desperately longed for his approval. And Legolas… her dearest friend, companion, brother… He would never understand.

Burdened by the weight of her shame and overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions, Tauriel let her head sink onto the shoulder of the unconscious dwarf before her, a few tears escaping down her cheeks, slightly wetting the shirt of her patient.

Suddenly she felt him shift beneath her and stiffened, not daring to move. He lifted his free arm and moved it across his broad chest, gently resting his hand at the nape of her neck.

"Ah, don't cry for me, lass, I shall rise from this table and this —not very comfortable—pile of walnuts soon enough," he muttered into her hair. "Save those tears of yours for someone worthier than Kíli the Dwarf."

He traced his fingers along the line of her jaw, gently lifting her chin to make her look at him. From the slight twinkle in his eyes, she could tell that he was just trying to make light of the situation and that he was somehow aware that what was weighing her down was much more complicated. That he understood what she was going through because, in many ways, he felt the same…

Looking into his eyes, Tauriel found that she could not tear her own eyes away and her breath hitched in her throat when his gaze slowly travelled down to her lips and then back up again, an unspoken question behind it.

Tauriel closed her eyes and exhaled, mustering all her strength in order to not give into the magnetic pull of his eyes and instead pushed herself back into an upright position. This could not be. It was one thing to be concerned for a dwarf, to save him from a certain death and to acknowledge to herself —only to herself—that he stirred something in her heart. But to physically express the affection that she felt for him, no matter how viciously the desire to feel his lips upon hers, to know what he tasted like, burned inside of her—this she could not allow.

When she opened her eyes again to look at Kíli, what she saw in his eyes was not the sting of rejection, but raw longing paired with profound sadness.

He broke their gaze and turned his head away slightly. "Yes, this cannot be," he sighed, mirroring her own thoughts as if she had spoken aloud. He paused for a moment, seeming to debate whether to continue or not. "I am not just 'Kíli the Dwarf,'" he then confessed. "I am also Kíli, nephew to Thorin Oakenshield, and an heir of Durin. Fíli is my older brother, but if anything were to happen to him and Thorin…"

"…you would become King Under the Mountain," Tauriel finished for him, her eyes wide with surprise. She silently reprimanded herself for thinking of nothing but her own sorrows and how inappropriate it would be for a Captain of the Mirkwood Guard to care about a dwarf. As an heir of a royal Dwarven line, Kíli would certainly be frowned upon if he befriended an elf. What would happen if he and said elf became something more than friends, Tauriel did not really want to imagine.

"Dwarves and elves…," Kíli began,

"… do not exactly go together well," Tauriel continued. She smiled a wry smile.

And yet…, he spoke to her through his eyes.

And yet…, she responded in her mind, lightly caressing his hand, which still held hers.

"I remember—" he began, but then faltered, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again. "I remember my mother telling me about the hard times our kind had to endure after the fall of Erebor. I was only a child, but I couldn't fathom how my ancestors still managed to prevail, to somehow go on."

Tauriel listened attentively, curious to learn more of Kíli and his life. There was not much that she knew about the world beyond the borders of Mirkwood and when it came to the history of the Dwarven clans, she was only familiar with the most basic facts surrounding the fall of Erebor, all filtered through her king's perspective, obviously.

"And what did your mother tell you of those times?" she asked when Kíli seemed lost in his own memories for a moment.

He blinked, but then smiled apologetically at her and continued his narration. "'Kíli,' my mother said, 'tragedy can be a curious thing. It can break families apart, separate lovers, destroy the lives people have built for themselves. But sometimes, tragedy can also provide a certain clarity. I have seen people reach out to one another in times of hardship in ways that you could not imagine. Building friendship where before there was only animosity, building a future where before there was only emptiness and indifference. Sometimes it is in times of great despair that we realize what we truly want and that we find the strength to create something new.'"

Kíli fell silent for a moment. Then he smiled at Tauriel. "Sometimes, my mother really has a way with words. When she isn't cursing me and my brother for our recklessness, that is."

Tauriel remained serious. "And have you found out yet what it is that you truly want, Kíli?"

She should not be asking this, but for some reason she needed to hear him say it out loud. If only to experience that surge of pleasure and joy again which she had felt when he spoke of his affection for her during his fever.

Kíli averted his eyes, looking slightly embarrassed. When his eyes found hers again, they were full of tenderness.

"I want —"

He was interrupted by a terrible rumbling and then the earth began to shake.

Tauriel and Kíli looked at each other, both wearing identical expressions of panic on their faces. They would not have needed Fíli —who came rushing through the door, exclaiming, "Smaug! He is coming!"—to know that they were doomed.