Author's note: My dear reviewers, thank you so much for making my last week so much better than it would have been without hearing from you. Glad you are still enjoying this, because I certainly am :)

That being said, here's what you (and I!) have been waiting for for a long time :) However, it comes with a grain of salt... I apologize in advance...

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.

Chapter XV

"Not down there, she-elf," the orc who was escorting Tauriel away from the master's rooms hissed when she automatically turned into the direction she knew Nimwen's and her cell to be located. In the confusion over the explosion somewhere down below he had neglected to blindfold her, but Tauriel certainly wasn't about to remind him of that fact.

He yanked her back by the chains attached to the iron clasps on her wrists to which she only protested half-heartedly, her mind racing to form a plan. Whatever happened now, it was vital that she remembered the way to where Nimwen was sitting in their damp, dark prison, waiting for her return. Leaving her friend behind was out of the question, no matter how urgently she needed to remove herself from the grasp of the master.

Walking ahead of her guard down the narrow, winding corridor, Tauriel sought confidence in the feeling of the cool blade of the knife she had hidden away inside her sleeve, pressed against her skin. She calculated her chances of succeeding if she simply whirled around now and slit the orc's throat. While she could easily have defeated him, the number of other orcs that they passed on their way made her refrain from doing so. She might have a weapon now, but her wrists were still bound together and she did not think that she would be able to take on a larger number of enemies this way.

Her hopes that she might find a moment where she was alone with her guard were crushed when he suddenly forced her to stop, turning to unlock a door to their right. Tauriel glanced left and right and, to her dismay, counted a good dozen orcs in the vicinity. With the ground shaking only minutes ago, you would think that they'd have something better to do than loiter about in the hallway, she thought to herself.

Time seemed to slow down as her guard opened the door and pushed her inside and Tauriel's heart began to beat fast with the knowledge that she had to make a decision, and fast. Should she attack the orc and risk being overwhelmed by those nearby or should she let the chance pass her by and risk another audience with the orcs' master?

As she crossed the threshold, fate seemed to intervene once more with a low rumbling from deep down inside the earth, like the low growl of a large, hungry animal, making the floor vibrate beneath the soles of her feet. Without wasting a split second, Tauriel whirled around, catching the orc behind her, who had been looking up and down the hallway for the source of the strange sound, off guard. Wrapping her hands around the chains which he still held firmly in his hands, Tauriel gave a quick pull, which caused the orc to stumble into the cell with her.

In one swift motion, she had the chains around his throat and held on tightly while pushing the door shut with her foot. The orc tried to cry out, but only managed a gurgling sound to which she responded with a tightening of the chains. Not so much out of compassion, but rather for practical reasons she quickly decided to end his misery and slid the small knife out of her sleeve, trying not to feel too much pleasure when she plunged the blade into her guard's flesh.

Breathing heavily, she shoved the dead body away from her in disgust, but then went and kneeled down next to it, searching for a key to the shackles on her wrist. Locating a ring that held several keys, she was relieved to find that one of the first ones she tried fit and within a few seconds she was free, angry red welts on the skin of her wrists the only reminders of her bonds.

"It appears that my 'predicament' has just changed," she muttered to herself, the impulse to seek out the master and take revenge not only for the suffering he had caused her, but also for the misery he had confessed to have caused others before her very strong. Quickly she checked herself. This was not the time for vengeance – she needed to find Nimwen and then get her, herself, and her unborn child safely out of there.

Fastening the ring of keys to her own belt, Tauriel straightened up. The small knife went into the shaft of her boot as a back-up, and into her hand she took the dead orc's sword. A short and ugly blade, lacking any craftsmanship, but it would do its job nevertheless. Carefully she crept towards the door, cautious of what she might fight beyond.

Peering into the hallway, she saw that the quaking of the earth seemed to have roused some of the orcs from their idleness. There were only a handful of them left behind and they appeared slightly agitated and confused.

She stepped out into the corridor, careful to remain pressed up as closely to the wall as possible, and quickly determined the cause for the orcs' agitation: the air smelled of smoke. Tauriel cursed inwardly when she realized that whatever had transpired in the pits she suspected were used for breeding purposes, was apparently not so easily controlled. Leave it to a group of orcs to set themselves on fire.

Closing her eyes for a second, she focused on her sense of smell. To her dismay, the smell of something burning was stronger in the direction she knew she needed to head into in order to free Nimwen. Better not waste any time then, she told herself and, quiet as a cat, made her way down the corridor, occasionally ducking into crevices in the wall to wait for one or two orcs to pass her by. From their hasty demeanor she suspected that they were headed outside, like rats deserting a sinking ship. She considered taking them out, but then thought better of it. Who knew what challenges she would have to face on their way out and, with her strength not being what it once had been, she needed to avoid unnecessary exertions.

Eventually Tauriel passed the spot where, a few days before, she had thought she could feel a draught of fresh air. Looking up a narrow set of stairs, she thought that this was where she would have to take Nimwen once she had retrieved her from her cell. She couldn't know for sure, but as it was this appeared to be their best shot at finding an exit.

A few more steps down the dimly lit corridor and she had reached her destination. With concern she took notice of the fact that there was smoke hanging in the air, not too dense yet, but enough to cause an unpleasant, burning sensation in her throat and lungs. She could only hope that one of the keys on the chain she had taken would also fit the door to the prison she and Nimwen had been sharing for several days. Breaking down the door might draw too much attention (and either way, she was not entirely sure if she could). Looking for an alternative way to open the door would be out of the question – they simply did not have that much time to waste. She did not even get the chance, however, to take the keys from her belt before two orcs rounded the corner.

"Take her!" one of them, clearly an orc of superior rank, snarled upon seeing her tense in front of the cell door, immediately shoving the other, smaller orc into her direction.

As the brute came barreling towards her, Tauriel whirled around, drawing her borrowed sword. The look in her eyes must have been quite fierce because her attacker hesitated for a split second before throwing himself at her. Taking a half step to the side, she let him stumble past her, raising her blade to strike him down from behind almost effortlessly.

She did not spare the orc so much as a glance as he slumped to the ground, dead. The other one, she had known immediately, would provide more of a challenge. Not only was he of a sturdier build than his companion, he also appeared to be heavily armed.

Tauriel and the orc stared at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. Tauriel felt her heart beat erratically against her ribcage, adrenaline rushing through her body. Under different circumstances this single opponent might not have posed a challenge to her, but as it was she did not underestimate the threat. Still, it was only this orc standing between her and her friend and as he charged towards her, she focused on all her rage, frustration and thirst for revenge and threw herself into battle with every ounce of strength she could muster.

Her sword clashed against his and, for a terrifying moment, she thought that she might falter under the sheer force with which her opponent attacked her. He bore down on her with all his weight and it took her a moment to find a secure footing, but once she had, she whirled around, causing the orc to lose his balance and stumble. With an almost feral, low growl she threw herself against him, slamming him face first against the door she had been trying to gain access to.

The orc, disoriented, struggled beneath her, but she held him in place with an iron grip and drove her blade into his back, panting from the sheer effort of piercing his armor. Withdrawing her sword, she took a step back, grimly watching her opponent slide to the ground. When she was sure that he was never waking up again, she grabbed his leg and pulled his body back far enough to be able to reach the door without having to climb over him.

The air was steadily getting worse and her eyes watered slightly as she fiddled with the keys, trying to find one that would fit the key hole. When, on her fourth attempt, the lock in the door clicked and she felt the door yield beneath her hands, she breathed a sigh of relief. Pushing the door open in one swift motion she stepped inside and called out softly. "Nimwen?"

The young healer stepped out of the shadows, her eyes wide with fear. In her hand she held a sharp-edged rock which she dropped immediately when she recognized her friend. "Tauriel?" she asked, her voice shaky. "I thought someone was coming to get me…"

"Someone is," Tauriel replied, walking towards the scared elleth, taking one of her cool hands in her own. "But it is no enemy. We are getting out of here, tonight."

"How did you-" Nimwen began, but then broke off, her eyes travelling to the gaping cut in the neckline of Tauriel's tunic. Her eyes widened again, her expression horrified. "What did he do?"

"It does not matter now," Tauriel said, shaking her head. "I am fine. But we have to hurry. Someone set this place on fire and we need to save ourselves before there is no more way out."

Nimwen smiled a shaky smile of relief. "Thank you for coming back for me."

Tauriel squeezed her friend's hand affectionately. "Always. I will always come back for you, no matter what. Do not forget that."

"I won't, my dear, dear friend," Nimwen replied, her voice gentle. They held onto each other for another few seconds. "Let us go then," Nimwen said eventually, releasing her hold on Tauriel's hand.

Tauriel smiled and was just about to turn around when someone suddenly grabbed her by her hair at the back of her head and yanked her back violently, causing her to stumble and fall on her back, her head hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Her vision became blurry for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her state of shock not permitting her to feel pain at that moment. Disoriented she looked around and saw Nimwen retreat back into the darkness in front of her, her expression fearful.

"Are we going somewhere?" the cold voice of the orc-master cut through the air as he stepped into her line of view, the tension in his stance betraying his anger.

Tauriel did not reply, but immediately reached for her blade which had fallen from her grasp when she fell.

The master was faster though, and swiftly leaned down to retrieve it from the ground. Looking at it thoughtfully, he spoke again, his voice low. "You obviously do not intend to cooperate with my plans. If I did not know better, I would suspect that you were also behind the destruction that has befallen this place only minutes ago."

Tauriel, still on the ground, shook her head. "You know very well that could have done nothing of the sort."

The master was silent for a few moments. "Be that as it may," he then said. "You have only caused me grief since you were brought to me. So I am afraid our collaboration ends now."

Without warning he threw himself forward, the blade in his hand aimed straight for Tauriel's heart. There was nowhere to run, no time to react, and Tauriel squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the steel of the blade to pierce her chest and end her life in this world. She did not even have time to form a coherent thought, and there was only one word, or rather one name, in her mind as she waited for her death to be delivered. Kíli.

Death did not come, however. Tauriel perceived a yelp and then a grunt and when her eyes snapped open, she saw her opponent struggle with Nimwen, who had thrown herself at him from behind, dragging him away from Tauriel.

Numbed from her collision with the ground, it took Tauriel's mind a few seconds to understand what her eyes were seeing, but when she did, she leapt to her feet, pausing only to pull her knife out from where she had hidden it inside the shaft of her boot. As she straightened up, time seemed to slow down for a couple of terrible seconds and, paralyzed with shock, she watched their captor succeed in throwing Nimwen off his back and then whirl around to face the young healer, raising the sword he still held.

"No," Tauriel mouthed, and then, louder, "NO!" as she charged towards them with an agonized cry.

With all the speed and all the strength she could still muster she threw herself at the master, not hesitating before thrusting the knife into his lower back at an upward angle. A lethal blow - but one that came too late. With her knife still embedded in their enemy's back, Tauriel locked eyes with Nimwen over his shoulder. The healer's eyes were wide open, her lips parted slightly in an expression of shock. Tauriel watched as a tear spilled from the corner of her eye before her panicked gaze grew more relaxed, but also more distant.

"Nimwen, no," Tauriel whispered, tossing the master's body to the side, not caring if he still breathed or not. Her friend fell forward into her arms and immediately Tauriel felt Nimwen's blood soak her own tunic where she was pressed against her chest. "No, no, no, no, oh please, no," she muttered again as she lowered the healer's lithe body to the ground.

Her hands flew to the bodice of Nimwen's dress, tearing the fabric apart in an effort to get a good look at her injury. But even as she took in the gaping wound and all the blood – oh so much blood – and desperately tried to think of something, anything, to help her friend, her shaking hands were stilled by the young healer's cool ones. "There is nothing to be done, Tauriel," she spoke, her usually melodic voice raspy and labored. "Save yourself."

"No," Tauriel shook her head vehemently, tears forming in her eyes. "Remember, I am not leaving you behind. I promised. Tell me what to do, Nimwen, tell me how to help you…" The air around them was growing thicker by the minute, making it harder to concentrate. And yet Tauriel made no move to leave – she could not give up on her friend who lay dying before her.

But Nimwen merely smiled weakly and used the last of her strength to lift their linked hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to Tauriel's skin. "I can see the stars from here, Tauriel," she whispered. Her grip onto Tauriel's hands loosened and when Tauriel lifted her eyes to those of her friend she saw that her light had left her. Nimwen was gone.

"Nimwen," Tauriel whimpered. Gathering the young healer's body to her chest, a cry of grief and agony tore out of her lungs. The young elleth had been one of the few true friends Tauriel had made in her life and during the short time she had known her, the healer had stood at her side loyally, giving her support and comfort when she needed it the most and without judging her as others might have done in her place. And now, in a final act of selflessness she had given her life for Tauriel's and the pain and guilt that this knowledge brought were almost too much to bear.

Kneeling over her friend's dead body, Tauriel broke down into sobs, all energy that been sustaining her for that last half hour sapping from her body, and was barely conscious of the clanking of metal against stone behind her and a voice, very familiar and so deeply missed, whispering her name.

"Tauriel."

"Something is wrong," Fíli murmured.

Kíli did not reply intially, but pressed his back even closer against the wall beside his brother, waiting for yet another group of orcs to pass them by. When they disappeared around a corner, he took a careful step forward and peered into the corridor ahead. It appeared to be clear for now.

The dark-haired dwarf turned back to his blonde brother. "They seem to be running from something." He looked into the direction the orcs had come from. They were not the only ones they had come across since they had entered the fortress and had slowly begun to make their way deeper inside. Some of them they had taken out quickly, but most had not even paid attention to the two intruders, apparently too intent on getting out of there.

Fíli stepped into the corridor to stand next to Kíli. "And let me guess – whatever they were running from is exactly where you think we ought to be headed?"

"Aye," Kíli replied with a small smirk that momentarily disguised his anxiety. Aside from the fact thatthey were not currently in a place he wanted to linger in longer than necessary, his need to find Tauriel was even more pressing than ever, almost as if she were running out of time. He swallowed, his expression turning serious again. "Come on then."

Quickly the two brothers made their way down the now deserted corridor until Kíli skidded to a halt at the top of a staircase leading down into depths unfathomable from their vantage point. Fíli arched his eyebrows questioningly. "Down there?"

Kíli shrugged. "It is likely that we are looking for some sort of dungeon. Wouldn't that be somewhere below?"

Fíli gazed down the narrow staircase, frowning. "Alright," he then said. "Stay up here for a moment and watch my back – I want to make sure that we are not headed into some kind of trap without having to fear for some orcs chasing me down from behind."

Kíli wanted to protest that if anyone it should be him scouting ahead, taking the greater risk, but then thought better of it, the urgency of their quest leaving no room for displays of heroism. "Go on," he nodded, taking up a defensive position at the top of the stairs.

He heard Fíli descend behind him and resisted the urge to turn around and look after him. After a few seconds of silence though, his patience began to wear thin. "Fíli?" he hissed through gritted teeth. There was no reply and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Fíli? Quit messing around, this is really not the time."

Glancing over his shoulder, his stomach clenched when he realized that he could neither hear nor see his older brother. "Fíli!" he called again, a little more loudly, his voice echoing off the walls of the staircase.

For another few moments, there was nothing at all, and then suddenly Fíli rounded a corner further down the stairs, taking two steps at once in an obvious hurry to ascend. Kíli breathed an audible sigh of relief but then frowned when he took in his brother's appearance, his face blackened, the hem of his coat slightly singed. He did not have time to ask him what was going on down below before Fíli grabbed him by his elbow, hurriedly dragging him away from the stairs.

"Nope, we're not going down there," he said between coughs. "It's a bloody inferno."

Kíli yanked away from his brother's grasp and spat out a Khuzdul curse his mother would have slapped him for, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Don't tell me we've set the place on fire."

When he lowered his hands he saw Fíli frown back at him. "Well, I cannot say how much of this is our fault and how much theirs, but what I can say is that there's a massive fire raging down there. However, it did not look like dungeons at all, from what I could tell. So I suggest we keep looking – and quickly."

Fíli put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder for the briefest of moments and Kíli tried his best to keep it together despite the fact that his blood was rushing in his ears and his knees were weak, making it hard to remain in an upright position. There was hope still and he could not allow himself to despair, not now.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he turned and led his brother further down the corridor. Had they not known already that some of the lower levels of the fortress were on fire, it would not have taken them long to figure it out. The air was becoming thicker with almost every step they took and where at first it was only slightly warmer than before, it was soon getting to be rather hot and stifling, the smoke in the air making it not only hard to breathe, but also more difficult to see.

Kíli had to stop and lean against the wall to cough as they rounded another corner, his breath rasping in his lungs. He straightened up and made to continue, but was stopped by his brother's hand on his upper arm. Fíli forced him to turn around, his expression one of sorrow and pity as he gazed at him. "Kee, we cannot go any further. If we do not suffocate from the smoke first, we will burn alive." He pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry."

Kíli cast his eyes down. When he looked back up at Fíli, his entire being felt numb with the realization that his brother was probably right. "Go," he muttered. "Get out while you still can, but please understand that I cannot follow you."

Fíli's eyes widened, his fingers grasping Kíli's arm in an iron grip. "Kíli, no, you cannot do this. Surely she would not want you to-"

At that moment a desperate cry pierced through the air, coming from not too far away. Startled, the two brothers looked at each other. Fíli made no attempt to hold his brother back as he pushed past him, following the sound down the corridor, his steps frantic.

Running back the way they had come from, Kíli noticed a small set of stairs they had previously passed by without noticing. The smoke down there appeared to be dense, but not much more so than in the air around them and so he rushed down the stairs, hoping against hope that he was right in thinking that the voice he had just heard, had not been that of an orc. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped dead, unsure whither to turn. A little ways off to his left he thought he saw two lumpy shapes on the ground and cautiously approached, frowning when he identified the shapes as the dead bodies of two orcs, one small in build, the other considerably larger.

Before he had time to wonder how those two had met their end, his attention was torn away by a low whimper coming from inside a door to his left. He stepped over the body of the bigger orc and pushed the door, which was halfway closed, open with his left arm. In his right hand he clutched his sword, preparing himself for the possibility of an attack.

Taking in the scene that presented itself to him inside the room, Kíli felt his insides turn cold, panic gripping his heart so tightly that the shuddering breath he drew physically hurt. His sword fell to the floor, forgotten. He did not care anymore if someone attacked him.

"Tauriel," he whispered.

She was crouching on the floor, in a pool of blood. Kíli saw nothing else, heard nothing else, his only thought that this could not be happening, that he could not really be too late. Only when she lifted her head and looked around in confusion before her eyes locked onto his did he realize that it was not her blood she was kneeling in, but that of the person she was hunched over.

Not hers. With a small, choking sound coming from the back of his throat, he took the few steps separating him from his love and grabbed her by her upper arms, pulling her away from the body on the ground. Only as he did so, did he glance at the other person's face and recognized her face with a sinking feeling in his chest. It was Tauriel's friend who had attended to her back in Mirkwood. Nimwen. I have found a friend here. The words Tauriel had spoken in his dream made so much more sense now.

Tauriel's eyes, too, were still fixed on the she-elf's face, tears streaming down her cheeks that were stained with soot, dirt and blood. Kíli's heart broke at seeing her like this and he hated himself for not having found her sooner, for not sparing her that grief, that pain of losing her friend.

Gently taking her face between his palms he forced her to look at him and saw that she was barely there with him, the emotional and possibly also physical pain of whatever had happened to her clearly too much for her to bear. He wanted to look her over, see if she was even the tiniest bit hurt, but he knew that there was no time for this now. All that counted was that she was still alive.

"My love, look at me," he whispered, brushing her tears away with his thumbs.

Eventually her gaze became more focused and she looked back at him. "Kíli?" she asked, her voice unsteady. Her lower lip quivered as recognition dawned on her and Kíli caught her as she fell forward and into his arms.

"I'm here," he muttered into her hair, her sobs driving tears to his own eyes as well. He pressed a kiss to her ear. "I'm so sorry, love, so so sorry."

She drew back slightly, but kept one of her hands on his shoulder to steady herself while she traced his face with the other. She seemed about to speak, but was interrupted by a cackling from the corner of the room.

Kíli whipped his head around sharply to locate the source of the sound and noticed a dark figure lying on the ground. Tauriel's hands tightened on his upper arms and he felt a tremor go through her body, whether of anger or fear he could not say.

As the pair looked on, the person on the ground moved and lifted their head. "An elf that has given herself to a dwarf," the cloaked figure spoke with a voice that sent a chill up Kíli's spine. "It was a mistake to ever hold you in such high regard when in fact you are misguided, an abomination-"

Whatever else the strange creature had been about to say was silenced by a sword being plunged in its chest. Kíli looked up to see Fíli standing above it. His brother shrugged. "Sorry. I figured nobody really wanted to hear this."

Kíli sent him a quick, exhausted smile before turning back to Tauriel. "Can you get up?"

She nodded, but Kíli was disconcerted by how heavily she leaned onto him once she was on her feet. He locked eyes with Fíli, silently letting him know that he would require his help in getting her out of there. Before they could leave the room, however, Tauriel turned back to look at her dead friend with such agony in her eyes that Kíli signaled for his brother to wait and helped her back to where Nimwen lay on the ground, gently supporting her as she lowered herself beside her.

He watched as Tauriel leaned down and whispered a few words in her own tongue into Nimwen's ear before pressing a kiss to her friend's forehead, her tears falling onto the dead elleth's pale skin. When she looked back up at Kíli, she seemed distraught, but also more resolute than before. "Her last wish was for me to save myself," she whispered. "I'd like to honor that wish."

Kíli smiled sadly and held out his hand for Tauriel to take, pulling her up and against him, steadying her with his arm around her waist. He would save his worry over how thin she felt beneath his hands or how pale and sallow her skin was for later. Right now he would thank the gods that she had been returned to him alive and would do his damndest to make sure she stayed that way.