I was more than a little surprised when I woke up the next morning, seeing as how I rarely slept. Pale sunlight streamed through the window, lighting up the otherwise dreary chamber. The room was freezing; the fire must have died out sometime during the night.

I made to sit up, forgetting momentarily about my wound. The instant I moved, a fiery streak of agony rushed through me. I fell back, convulsing. "Aeyera?" Someone called my name, but I could barely make sense of it. Somewhere I knew that the pain from the wound would not be at its peak until the following night, but I still twisted and turned, trying to escape it. "Aeyera!"

Through the pain, only one thought stayed, and I voiced it, my voice a scream. "Kill me!"

I felt strong hands pin me down, preventing me from moving. I still tried, but my efforts were useless. Slowly, I came back to myself, the pain fading to a—barely—bearable ache. My back began to throb, the scabs having reopened in my struggle. Looking up, I saw Fili and Kili standing above me. Both brothers were pale, eyes wide. Concern and fear hit me like a lightning strike as soon as I focused on the youngest. Yes, he was pale, but not only from concern or fear. His skin was sweaty and gray, and dark circles ringed his eyes. With his dark hair and pale skin, he looked more dead than alive.

"Aeyera," Kili said, his voice much weaker than normal. "What…?"

"Tomorrow is Durin's Day," I said, blinking up at the ceiling. I could hear the dwarves eating breakfast and making a ton of noise, which is probably why none had raced upstairs to help me after I had begun begging for death. I winced at the thought, ashamed that the two I cared most about in the world—other than my brother—had seen me in such a state. "The anniversary of my being stabbed by a Morgul Blade. Did I not explain this yesterday?"

"You did," he grunted, pulling himself to his feet. I stood slowly, surveying them. Kili and his brother both wore armor over their new tunics, and both had swords strapped to their belts or backs. Kili had a bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back, and I could spot several daggers hidden in various places on Fili's person. "It's time," he said.

"Here," Fili said, holding out an apple. "You missed breakfast." I took it hesitantly, my stomach roiling. To appease the princes, I took a bite, forcing myself to keep it down when I swallowed. They nodded, evidently satisfied, and left the room.

As soon as they left, I sank back against the bed, gripping one of the posts for support. I knew that I would be fully incapacitated by nightfall and would remain so until the next day, if not sooner, and that if Thorin saw this, I would not be permitted to go. I had to go; I had to uphold my promise to keep the line of Durin safe.

Groaning, I stood, my knees shaking. I shrugged a leather corset of sorts over my tunic. The next minute I spent lacing it up; it was as close as could come to armor for someone my size on such short notice. Tying my bracers on and donning my cloak were easy, but pulling my bow and quiver over my shoulder was impossible. I tied them to my pack instead, feeling nervous about how, should anything happen, I would be unable to reach them. I attached my knives to my belt along with my sword; there was no way I could reach over my head to grab them should a fight break out. Finally, I pulled on my cloak and my pack and descended down the staircase.

Fili and Kili waited for me, following me outside. I walked with a limp, trying to alleviate the pressure on the injured side of my body.

All of Laketown had emptied to watch us depart; the people lined the canals, cheering and waving. Many threw flowers and streamers; where they got them, I did not know. "All hail the King Under the Mountain!" One man yelled. A roar of noise drowned out anything else he might have said.

When we reached the dock, I could see that most of the company already waited there for us. I counted, frowning. We were one short. Bilbo voiced my thoughts to Thorin, shouting to be heard over the crowd's racket. "You do know we're one short? Where's Bofur?"

"If he's not here, we leave him behind."

I paled. We could not leave anyone behind, not here. Not where the Master lurked and plotted. Balin saw my horrified expression and leaned forward. "We'll have to, if we're to find the door before nightfall tomorrow. We can risk no more delays."

We began boarding the barge. I kept one hand pressed against my side, determined to keep anyone from noticing the wound. 'What if Thorin notices?' I stood behind Kili, not paying attention to my surroundings. I ran into him from behind and started; I had not realized that he had stopped. Thorin had held out an arm to prevent his boarding the barge. His words chilled my blood and made my heart ache for Kili.

"Not you. We must travel at speed, you will slow us down."

Kili's white face twisted in confusion even as a smile of disbelief appeared. He clearly thought his uncle was joking; surely he couldn't be serious. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

"No, no." Thorin clearly was trying to simultaneously avoid a causing scene and console his nephew. Kili was confused and angry, not to mention hurting both in body and in heart.

"I'm going to be there when that door's opened. When we first look upon the halls of our fathers—Thorin...?" His voice took on a pleading note, and my heart broke for him.

Thorin placed his hands on his nephew's shoulders, speaking softly. His expression was fatherly, and I knew he was trying to help his nephew, even though his actions hurt him. "Kili, stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed."

Kili looked devastated, watching silently as Thorin turned and boarded the ship. I stood behind him, stunned. I had promised to protect the line of Durin. I could not do so if they split up. 'What do I do?'

Oin stepped off the barge and made his way over to Kili. I swayed, my vision blurring for a moment, and leaned on Kili's shoulder, blinking away spots. "I'll stay with the lad. My duty lies with the wounded."

Fili turned to his uncle, pleading with him, begging him to reconsider. "Uncle, we grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him!"

Kili spoke, his voice no more than a murmur. "Fili—"

'What do I do? Who do I go with? Whom do I protect?'

Fili plowed on, paying no heed to Kili. His voice rose urgently, pleading with his uncle. "I will carry him if I must!"

Thorin's hand was clamped on the back of Fili's neck, drawing him close. He shook him gently, trying to talk some sense into him. "One day you will be King and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf. Not even my own kin."

The golden haired heir stared at him in disbelief. His gaze turned to Kili, and then to me, and then he moved to get off the barge. Thorin grabbed his arm to stop him. "Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the company."

Fili glared back with the ferocity of a lion, looking more like a king than ever before. His words warmed my heart and made me proud to stand beside someone as loyal as Fili. "I belong with my brother."

He turned and walked off to stand beside Oin and Kili.

'Whom do I protect?'

Thorin, looking furious at the delay, turned his gaze upon me. "Aeyera, it is time to go."

The choice was suddenly clear. I shook my head, my entire body shaking like a leaf. Fili gripped my elbow to keep me from collapsing. "No."

He moved until he stood less than a foot from me, his posture menacing. He actually had gotten off the boat to face me, something that proved that he was outraged—nay, furious that I had challenged him. "What?"

"I swore to—" I took a deep breath; suddenly such a mundane task as breathing seemed as daunting as moving a mountain. "To protect the—the line of Durin." I sucked in a breath. "I will—but I can not do it from that mountain. This—" I gestured to Fili and Kili, who looked back at me in concern as I took another deep breath. "This is the line of Durin, and it is failing." My lungs were on fire. "I will remain here and protect your nephews." As I spoke, the world spun dizzyingly. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to vomit.

When I opened my eyes, I met Thorin's. He looked concerned now, not angry. "What happened?" he asked, boarding the ship. His eyes did not leave mine.

"I was stabbed by a Morgul blade," I answered. "Those wounds never truly heal. Every year I am struck by this sickness."

"Stay here, then. Heal, then come with the others and meet us at the mountain." He turned and stood at the prow of the ship. A trumpet blared as the Master stepped onto a platform, raising his hands. The ship prepared to cast off.

"Go now with our good will!" He called, smiling his terrible smile. The barge cast off from the dock and began moving with surprising speed down the canal, heading towards the open lake. Much of the company had turned to stare at the four of us that had been left behind.

'Five,' I thought lazily. 'Bofur was left here as well.'

"Wait!" A familiar voice reached my ears. I tried to turn my head but could not; I was too tired. My back and side burned, and my head throbbed.

The Master continued, raising his voice to a shout as the barge reached the lake. "And may your return bring fortune to all!"

"No!" Bofur cried out from next to me. After a moment, he spoke again, noticing us for the first time. "Did you miss the boat as well?"

Suddenly Kili lurched forward, looking close to passing out. Fili leaped forward, catching him. "Kili? Kili!" Bofur grabbed my shoulders as my knees gave way, preventing me from smacking my head on the dock.

"Fili, something's wrong with them," Bofur said, worried. "They've both gone pale, and she's shaking… she's so cold," he finished.

I kept my eyes open, knowing that if I closed them and fell asleep, I might not wake up. "Look for help," I murmured, shaking with cold. "I can try to heal him…"

Fili heard me, and nodded. "Let's go, then." He hoisted his brother up, pulling one of Kili's arms over his own shoulders and keeping a firm grip on it while wrapping his other arm around Kili's chest. Oin helped support Kili from the other side while Bofur picked me up, holding me in his arms. I hadn't realized before just how light I was, or small, but I did not complain. The pain let off briefly, but came back full force a moment later. I groaned, curling in on myself, and squeezed my eyes shut to block out the dizzying images my mind couldn't process.

"Please, help!" Bofur and Oin and Fili kept saying. "They need help!"

No one stopped, no one helped. My friends continued to run around, begging for someone—anyone—to help, but no one did. It must have been hours that we searched, for the pain had grown to an excruciatingly painful pitch. An idea—a memory of a promise—floated to the front of my feverish mind. "Bard," I murmured. It was nearly nighttime again; we had been searching all day for somewhere to rest.

"What? Aeyera?! No, don't go to sleep now—"

"Bard," I managed, fighting off the sleep that I so desperately wanted to escape to. "Find… Bard…"

"Bard? Oh, right, Bard! Fili!" My head lolled as Bofur began to run. I could hear Fili puffing as he all but dragged his brother along with him, and I could hear Oin's heavy footsteps as he followed.

At last I felt Bofur and the others pounding up the steps of Bard's home; heard them bang urgently on his door. I heard him answer almost immediately. "No. I'm done with dwarves, go away!"

"No! No! No one will help us," Bofur yelped, pushing his way to the front. "Aeyera and Kili are sick." He stopped and I heard the plea in his voice. "They're very sick."

After a moment, he spoke. "Alright," the bowman relented. Moments later, I felt myself being laid down on a bed. Someone piled blankets on top of me, trying to warm me up. I curled in on myself, trying to gather enough strength to speak.

The horror of what was happening truly hit me, and my eyes shot open. Bofur and Oin were hovering above me, though they had jumped back at my sudden movement. With more strength than I knew I had, I shoved them both away. "Help Kili," I rasped. "Mine is an old wound. I'll live through the night. He might not." I voice broke, though I didn't think they noticed. The two dwarves nodded and left to go help Kili.

I curled up on my side, shaking, as tears began flooding down my face, into my mouth. "Why Kili?" I began speaking in my own tongue, sobbing and rocking back and forth as indescribable waves of agony crashed into me. I could hear Kili crying out, sounding more agonized than I did. I now knew; there was no doubt in my mind that the arrow he had been shot with had had a Morgul shaft. I had been a fool not to see it. I began speaking again, not knowing what language I spoke or who I spoke to. "You can't go; you must be stronger than I was. Fight it, please! I know you can, Kili. Fight it! I love you! Kili, I love you!"

My babbling continued far into the night and into the next day. I passed into a feverish state, where everything had a bright outline. Bofur returned to me, holding me down as I continued to sob, incoherently shouting phrases in jumbled Elvish and Westron."Can you not do something?" He shouted to Oin.

Oin was fretting over both Kili and I, not sure whom to treat. "I need herbs, something to bring down their fevers!"

I could see Bard rummaging frantically through a cabinet. "We have nightshade, feverfew—"

"They're no use to me. Do you have any Kingsfoil?" Oin demanded.

"No, it's a weed. We feed it to the pigs." Bard sounded genuinely confused.

"Pigs?" Bofur asked. An idea struck him. "A weed? Right." He turned to face Kili and I. Neither of us could think straight, much less go anywhere, but he said: "Don't move." He turned and ran out of the house, leaving us in Fili and Oin's care.

"Da, what's wrong with them?" Tilda's terrified voice reached my ears, but it was not enough to stop the madness that now was attacking my mind. That was the worst part, I decided. Not the physical agony that tore at every fiber of my being. It was the darkness; the madness in my own mind that crippled me. I could not escape it; not in my body, not in my mind. I was as much of a prisoner now as I had been in Dol Guldur, and I wondered if the Necromancer had planned this.

Kili's agonized screams of pain were even worse than the pain I felt in my head and body. They made my own agony so much worse; his cries were torture in and of themselves. At times he stopped breathing, stopped moving, and I would shriek as though my own heart was being ripped from my chest. I would sob and scream and thrash, trying to reach him, only to be shaken roughly awake by one of the others. My mind had become my prison, and I could not escape from it. I understood now. If Thranduil had taken Kili; if he had tortured him—I would have given him anything. I would have done anything he had wanted.

There was a lull in my pain; for the moment I could think clearly and move without too much difficulty. It was night again. I had passed in and out of consciousness for hours. In the brief respite, I made my way over to Kili, who still lay on another bed. His skin was hot, his face paler than ever. Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

"Kili," I said, my voice a whimper. His fever-glazed eyes found mine. "Kili, I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that you will fight this. I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're tired, but I need you to fight. I need you to come back to me, Kili. Hold fast to the light, whatever it is, and do not let it go." I bent so that our noses were nearly touching. "I need you," I whispered. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his forehead. He wasn't sweating: his fever hadn't broken. His skin was hot as though he had been standing before a raging forge moments before, but the air around me was cool. I spoke once more, hovering inches above him. "I love you."

An earthquake of sorts suddenly hit, making the house rumble. The children looked frightened. "Da?" Sigrid looked to her father for guidance, not sure what to do.

Bain looked out the window at the mountain, visible even in the darkness. "It's coming from the mountain," he informed us, worried.

Fili stepped forward. "You should leave us," he told him. "Take your children and get out of here."

Bard looked at him sadly. "And go where?" He pressed his hand to his daughter Tilda's head, pulling her close as she wrapped her arms around him. "There is nowhere to go."

She looked up at him, fear evident on her face. She was too young to have to experience this; too young to face the horror of death. "Are we going to die, Da?" she asked, close to tears.

"No, darling," he murmured, stroking her hair comfortingly. A pang of sadness hit me, and I realized that I wanted to have a father like this, someone to comfort me when I cried and who would always be their to hold me and tell me that everything would turn out alright. But I didn't, and I never would.

"The dragon," Tilda whimpered. "It's going to kill us."

Releasing his daughter, Bard stalked over to his kitchen and wrenched something down from the rafters. Herbs and dust spilled down onto the table. My mouth fell open when I saw that he held the last black arrow of Girion. He looked around at all of us; his dark eyes alight with fire. "Not if I kill it first."

He left then, Bain following him out.

I stood, daring to hope that maybe the pain and madness had ended. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a horrible, indescribable bolt of agony descended upon me. It felt as though lightning had split my skull apart. I could hear someone screaming; a horrible, horrible sound that made me cringe until I realized that it was I who made it.

Someone lifted me off the ground and placed me on something soft, but I didn't care. All I wanted was for this pain to end. Memories, my worst memories, came flooding back, and I could do nothing but watch them. Even good memories appeared, but they were tinged by darkness and turned evil.

"Soft, green light filters through the leaves. I laugh, such a sweet sound. My mother often says it reminder her of birds singing. She rides behind me now, her hands holding me steady to prevent me from falling. Legolas rides behind us on his own horse, looking carefree without his usual array of weapons. Lately his mind has been focused on Tauriel, the new captain of the guard, and little else. We miss Maladernil, but mother says that he is alright. He is in Lothlórien with the Lady Galadriel, where he will remain until it is his turn to become king.

'Legolas, look!' I cry happily, showing him a flower I had plucked from a branch above my head. Elvish was the only language I know, or cared to know, and it was the only tongue I spoke. 'It's so pretty, Legolas!'

He laughs, blue eyes shining. 'It is, little sister. Not as pretty as you are, though.'

I squeal in delight as mother tickles me, squirming slightly as she picks me up and turned me around to face her. She picks the flower up and places it behind my ear, smiling softly as she braids it in place. 'You look lovely, my darling Aeyera,' she says to me, holding me tightly. 'No star can compare to your beauty.'

I smile, hugging her back. 'I love you, Mama,' I murmur, my voice muffled by her dress. She doesn't answer. The horse we ride stops, and I look up, confused. 'Mama?' She remains silent. Legolas says nothing, and I suddenly am afraid. Before I can ask a question, our horse rears up, nearly throwing me. I begin to cry, trying to hold onto my mother. She picks me up, holding me close. 'My loves, go! Run quickly!'

Before she can say anything else, she throws me to Legolas, and when I look back, a black arrow is protruding from her side. She screams and slumps over, her skin turning white as her dress turns red, and I begin crying hysterically, fighting my brother to reach her. 'Mama!' I cry. Legolas begin to blow his horn, and my dries are drowned out.

'Go!' she screams, turning the horse around. I watch, horrified and confused, as she rides away from us. I can hear shouts in a language I don't know. Legolas rides faster than he ever has before, faster than he's allowed to ride with me with him. We come home and he doesn't stop, he rides straight through the palace until he reaches Ada. Father runs away, taking his weapons and my brother with him. He leaves me with Tauriel."

"Aeyera," someone said, "Wake up, Princess. You have to wake up." The darkness pulled me back under.

"Torture.

Agony.

Burning.

Darkness.

Smoke.

The pale orc laughs and lifts a whip that glows like fire. "Do you enjoy pain, elfling?" He asks, leering at me. He swings the whip, and I scream as it wraps around me, burning furrows into my arm. "You must: if you did not, you would have ended it by now."

He jerks the whip away, leaving deep, blackened burns in my flesh. They are not so deep that I can see my bone, but I still writhe in agony, sobbing. I cry out and pull in vain at the chains holding my arms to the ceiling, unable to kick the orc away because of the shackles holding my ankles to the stone floor. He laughs and swings the whip again, making it wrap around my right upper arm and across both my shoulders. I arch my back, trying to escape, even though I know any efforts are futile.

Darkness surrounds me both inside and out; the shadows of night are reflected by the shadows of madness at the edges of my mind.

After an eternity that was only a day, the pale orc unchains my wrist and ankles and allows me to collapse on the ground. He shackles my wrists together and does the same to my ankles, then slings me over his shoulder. Each of his hands large enough to easily wrap itself around my waist and crush me. I cannot move; breathing itself is a chore. He carries me to my cell and throws me to the ground, smiling gruesomely at my weak cries of pain. Unlike other nights, however, the shadow that would descend upon my cell did not immediately come, and I glance over at the knife in the corner, a plan forming in my mind. The pale orc frowns and steps into the cell, facing away from me. Taking a risk, I reach over and, grab the knife in my fists, every fiber of my being screaming in protest. I lunge, hoping to plunge the blade into the orc's heart.

However, the sound of my chains scraping against the floor alerts him, and he turns, backhanding me and sending me flying to the opposite wall. Pain explodes in my back and head as they make contact with the chipped rock, and I crumple to the ground in pain, looking blearily over at the pale orc, who reaches down to pick up the knife I had dropped. He grins and kneels next to me, tracing my face with the dark blade.

"You have wondered about this knife," he whispers. "And I will tell you about it. This is a Morgul blade. It gives a wound that will never heal, that will bring agony both to body and mind no matter how many years pass. It is a torture that few have been forced to endure." A terrible sort of glee enters his eyes. "I do not doubt that it will consume you," he whispers. "I look forward to watching you fade."

At the last word, he plunges the knife into my side up to the hilt, and I scream, curling in on myself as the world flashed white. The blade is like ice, burning, but the fire spreads through my veins, making me writhe like a worm on a hook. I feel the point of the knife break through skin and flesh of my back, and I shriek and sob, on and on, and the pain continues to build in intensity.

The orc stands and turns, intent on leaving me in the cell, but before he can, the shadow appears at the door, weaker than before.

I do not know what language it speaks in. However, I do catch the words "Thror," "Moria," and "Durin." The orc grins and walks out as the shadow fades completely.

I lie dazed and dying as Dol Guldur empties, all the orcs and goblins heading to Moria. I continue to twist, trying to escape the unrelenting pain. I grip the handle of the knife, hoping to pull it out and use it to break my chains, but I am too weak. I remain motionless, my breathing becoming ragged, and darkness began to encroach on my vision. My body begins to convulse, and still I cry out. There is so much I regret, but I cannot remember even what it is. Did I have a family? Did I have a friend? The pain suddenly begins to ebb, and someone is calling my name.

'Aeyera!'

My name, that's my name. It's been so long—

'Aeyera!'

Someone is calling me, who—"

"Aeyera!"

My eyes snap open. An orc stands above me, but before I can scream, an arrow appears in his throat. It falls to its knees and then on its face, unmoving. I look around. The only word to describe what is going on is chaos. There are orcs fighting children: Sigrid, Tilda, Bain; and also Fili, and Ori, and—Legolas? Tauriel?

The fight is blurry, going in and out of focus. Tauriel leaps by, as graceful as a deer, her red hair shining like flames. The next moment, Fili rushes to parry a blade slicing towards my chest, his face a spectral white, framed in shadow.

The last of the orcs had gone, and Tauriel and Legolas still remained. I could hear them speaking, and could make sense of it all.

Bain spoke first, sounding shocked. "You killed them all."

Kili moaned in pain. I tried to move and echoed him, unable to reach his side.

"We're losing him!" Oin shouted. "Someone check on Aeyera!"

"Aeyera?" Sigrid hovers above me, pressing a wet cloth to my skin. "I heard what you said to Kili…"

"Legolas," Tauriel said softly. "Let me heal him; look after your sister. When they are well, we will hunt down the orcs."

Sigrid continued speaking. "And you can't leave either, there are people who care about you, people who love you and need you…"

"We have nothing to heal them with," Legolas replies, sounding distraught.

Suddenly, I hear someone run into one of the elves, and I hear Tauriel speak, sounding amazed. "Athelas."

"What are you doing?" Bofur asked, nervous. I turn my head to face her, hope growing in my heart. She could heal him.

Tauriel spoke, sounding elated, and I see that she is looking at me. "I'm going to save him." She steps over to me. "I'm going to save both of you."