15: The Only One

When Kíli and Tauriel stepped through the gate and into the courtyard of Gansukh's home on the island of Nurtha, the sun had been mostly swallowed by the horizon already and the first, faint glimmers of stars were becoming visible in the sky above. Despite the fading light, however, the inside of the estate was not nearly as dark and gloomy as the towering, gray stone walls surrounding it might have suggested. Small red and gold lanterns floated in the air above their heads, held up by wires which had been strung up between the low, sloping roofs of the cluster of low, squat buildings that surrounded a larger house at the center of the courtyard. More lanterns hung from trees, from stone arches, from open windows, casting the whole scene into a deceptively soft, warm light.

On the inside, Tauriel could not have felt colder. After their arrival on Nurtha, a pair of grim-looking guards had shepherded her and Kíli across the beach and up a series of narrow, slippery steps hewn into the rocks and almost impossible to see if one wasn't looking for them. The guards walked a few steps behind them rather than moving to physically restrain them in any way, but then again, they didn't have to. There was nowhere to run.

The boats they had come in, Tauriel had noticed upon glancing back at the water below, were not left at the shore. Manned by two people each, they were rowed away from the beach once again. She would have liked to linger to find out what happened to those boats. Were they anchored at some other place on this island, somewhere out of sight? Or were they taken back to the mainland, thereby considerably weakening the chances of anyone who might want to flee from this large pile of rocks?

Before she'd had time to come up with a theory, however, the cliffs had swallowed their small party more completely and her view of the beach had become obscured. At a particularly narrow turn in the path, Kíli's hand had brushed against hers, his middle and index finger tapping out a brief, but reassuring rhythm against her wrist.

"We'll find a way," he'd whispered, having read her frown correctly.

Now, as she let her gaze travel over the sturdy walls surrounding Gansukh's estate, Tauriel was less inclined to agree with Kíli's hopeful words than she had been out there, on the stone steps. Not only were the walls high and too smooth to be climbed stealthily, there were also a handful of guards stationed on top of them, walking back and forth while they kept watch over everything that moved outside and inside.

On their backs, the guards carried long, curved bows and Tauriel's heart gave an excited little leap as she thought about how easy an escape would be if only she managed to get her hands on one of them. In the current situation, however, that seemed very unlikely indeed. Still, she filed away the information of where her favorite choice of weapon might be procured for later reference.

They were led through the courtyard and straight toward the tall building at its center. It towered over the smaller buildings like a ruler to whom his acolytes had flocked and were now kneeling in supplication. Yellow light poured from a multitude of windows, making it seem as if the house had many cunning eyes which saw everything.

Gansukh was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the steady bustle of people coming and going through several sets of wide double doors on the ground floor of the building and the cacophony of lights and sounds emanating from within, Tauriel guessed that a celebration in honor of the return of their gracious host was currently in preparation. She and Kíli were not taken through those open doors, but led to a smaller side entrance instead.

There, a woman of indeterminate age and severe features was waiting for them. She held the door open for Kíli and Tauriel to pass through. When one of the guards made to follow them, she shot him a glare so withering that he stopped dead in his tracks and fell back behind his comrade, a slightly sheepish look on his fleshy face the last thing Tauriel saw of him before the door closed in his face.

The woman, meanwhile, was already halfway up a narrow set of stairs and cleared her throat impatiently while the new arrivals exchanged a puzzled glance over the interaction they had just witnessed. Kíli gave a small shrug and turned a dazzling smile towards the woman, which appeared to have no effect on her whatsoever aside from a slight, disapproving puckering of her lips.

Tauriel pressed her own lips together in an effort to smother the grin which threatened to bloom across her face at Kíli's outright scandalized stare. She brushed past him on her way to the stairs, touching the back of her hand to his to let him know that while she was amused by the lack of effect which his charm had on their new acquaintance, she herself was by no means immune to it.

With Kíli grumbling to himself behind her, she followed the woman up the winding staircase. Despite a slight limp, which might have been caused by a bad knee or a stiff leg, their guide climbed the stairs both nimbly and swiftly, making it necessary for Tauriel to quicken her own steps. Behind her, she could hear Kíli huffing and puffing, with the occasional mutterings in his own, indecipherable tongue.

They went up further and further, the air growing warm and stifling as they did. There were lanterns fastened to the wall at regular intervals, but they had not been lit, and the only source of light as they climbed was a stumpy candle which their guide carried in an old, iron candle holder. Even without enough light to see much, however, Tauriel was willing to hazard a guess that these were not the same stairs Gansukh or his guests that didn't also happen to be his prisoners used to access the higher levels of the tower, but some sort of servants' stairs instead. Which, again, made her wonder about the role she and Kíli were expected to occupy now that they were here.

At the very least, they were not taken directly to the dungeons to continue being locked up in darkness. Having grown up in underground caverns, Tauriel was more used to the absence of daylight than some, but she did not fancy a repetition of the light starvation of the past couple of weeks. At all.

They stopped ascending the stairs when there were no more stairs to ascend. They had reached the very top of the building, the roof supported by wooden beams crisscrossing above their heads. Whatever Tauriel had been expecting to be their destination—a cell of some sort, or a locked chamber perhaps—this had not been it. It was difficult to judge since she could not see the other end of it, but it seemed as if the space they had been brought to stretched across the whole length of the building. It had been sectioned off with silky curtains in bright colors with the occasional wooden screen or thin, papery wall in between.

The air was a little warmer still than it had been on the stairs, but, by contrast, not in the least bit stale. A mild breeze moved through the room, billowing the curtains and causing the lanterns hung from the beams above to flicker. In its wake, the wind left behind the scent of the sea.

Their guide immediately began weaving her way through this labyrinth of fabrics and makeshift walls, not even looking over her shoulder to see whether Kíli and Tauriel were following. Their steps carried them after her in a heartbeat, curious as they were to see where this journey would take them.

Aside from the gentle murmur of the sea, it was quiet up here. Through gaps left by the curtains swaying in the breeze, Tauriel caught glimpses of mats and blankets on the wooden floor, of sparse belongings scattered across even sparser furniture. Not a single person in sight, though.

Once they reached a long, royal blue curtain, their companion stopped and turned a disinterested look towards them. Kíli glanced at Tauriel over his shoulder, his eyebrow quirked.

"This is us, it would seem."

He pulled the curtain aside with a little flourish, which earned him another round of puckered lips from their warden. Ducking her head in amusement, Tauriel stepped through and found herself in a space quite similar to the ones she had glimpsed on their way over. A small table, so low that one would have to sit on the floor to use it comfortably, had been pushed against one of those odd, papery walls. Other than that, the only items in the small room were a colorful, albeit threadbare rug and two sleeping mats laid side by side underneath a small window.

Well, to be fair it wasn't as much a window as a rectangular hole in the wall, no glass or shutters adorning it. A square of bright orange cloth had been affixed to the wooden frame with two rusty nails, serving as a curtain. Despite the simplicity of the structure, Tauriel's heart leaped at the sight. A window from which, if her sense of direction had not become confounded, she would be able to see the sun set over the sea seemed almost too good to be true. She was so distracted by that prospect that the fact that the two sleeping mats on the floor clearly indicated that she and Kíli were expected to inhabit this room together almost escaped her notice.

Almost, but not quite.

Heat began to rapidly climb up her neck as she stared at the sleeping mats, their meaning just beginning to sink in. She was glad for the distraction of the woman clearing her throat once again.

"You are to remain here until someone fetches you," she announced, her voice raspy from what Tauriel supposed was a lack of use. This came as no surprise—up until now, she had assumed that their warden did not have the ability to speak. Apparently, though, she simply chose not to.

"And when will that be?" Kíli asked.

Yet another pucker of lips. Kíli was no favorite with her, it seemed. "When it is time."

And with that utterly unhelpful statement, the woman took the half step backwards that was necessary to allow the curtain to fall shut once again, leaving Kíli and Tauriel alone in their new abode.

"Well, she does not seem particularly taken with me," Kíli said, frowning at the folds in the curtain. In the slight breeze, they rippled like waves.

Tauriel chuckled. "You sound as if that does not happen very often."

Kíli turned to her, a wry grin on his face. "Oh no, it most certainly does. But in this particular case, I'm at a loss as to what offense I've committed to deserve this amount of scorn."

"Perhaps it is simply her way of showing how much she likes you," Tauriel returned with a wink.

He tapped his chin in mock consideration of her statement. "Possibly. Perhaps I've grown spoiled by having others express their. . . appreciation for me in different, more obvious ways."

And just like that, the air in the room changed at the same time that Tauriel's mouth went as dry as parchment.

"Have you indeed," she asked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. Perhaps the reason for this was the blood pounding through them. Had it been this warm inside their small cubicle a couple of moments ago?

"I'm afraid so." Kíli stepped closer, crowding her against the narrow stretch of wall beside the window. His smile was as bright as always, even as his eyes had taken on a decidedly darker hue.

This was foolish. Reckless. They ought to be investigating their surroundings, ensuring their continued survival and eventual means of escape. And yet Tauriel found her hands traveling up Kíli's arms, coming to rest on his shoulders.

"That sounds as if you have a great many admirers." Did she mean that as a tease? She most definitely did. Was she nevertheless secretly bothered by the thought of others being close to Kíli in a similar way as she was, now, and had been several times over the last few days? That, too, yes.

Kíli, however, merely shrugged, tilting his head back as his gaze strayed from her eyes down to her lips. "Don't know," he muttered distractedly. "Don't care. There's only one person who matters, in that regard."

"Only one?" Tauriel whispered, her voice losing its volume against her will as her breath came faster the smaller the distance between their lips grew.

"Aye. Only one." And with that Kíli closed what little of a gap remained between them, claiming her mouth in a hard kiss.

Tauriel allowed him to push her more firmly into the wall, reveling in the feeling of having his body aligned so completely with hers. He tasted of salt and sun, and she found herself wanting more of it, all of it, now. A strong thigh pushed between her legs, and she sank down against it gratefully, shamelessly, determined to seek out whatever bit of friction she could.

Kíli gasped into her mouth, a hand that had previously rested lightly on her waist now braced against the wall beside her in order to hold himself up. Boldly, Tauriel slid her hands from his shoulders up the sides of his neck, feeling the tendons tighten and ripple under her touch. The hair at the back of his neck was damp with sweat, and she pushed her fingers greedily into the thick strands, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

At the far end of the room, a door slammed shut. Kíli stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet and tumbling into the thin wall separating their quarters from the next one. He caught himself at the last moment, thereby sparing the wall the fate of a dwarf-shaped hole in the middle of it. With her fingers pressed to her lips, Tauriel stifled the laugh which threatened to escape her at the absurdity of the situation. Her lips were sensitive to her own touch and she shivered involuntarily.

They both stayed very quiet, listening for the sound of footsteps or any other sign that they were alone no longer. None came, the only noise that of their own breaths, which continued to come a little too fast. Still, their moment of reckless passion had passed and Tauriel wondered idly if she was supposed to feel grateful or upset about that. Her head tended towards the former, but her heart. . . well, that was another matter entirely. Not even to mention her body, which seemed intent to betray her at every chance it got.

Kíli fared no better, judging by the flush high in his cheeks and the slight grimace as he adjusted his clothing before gingerly lowering himself onto one of the sleeping mats, his back against the wall and his knees propped up in front of him. He cleared his throat.

"What—what comes next, do you think?"

Alright, then. It seemed that they were going to pretend that they had not just come dangerously close to ripping each other's clothes off in a completely alien, possibly unsafe space. That, she could do.

She sat down across from Kíli at as safe a distance as their cramped quarters allowed, folding her trembling legs underneath her. "When they took us into the house, it looked as if they are preparing a feast in honor of Gansukh's return downstairs. We might be expected to join in."

Kíli pulled a face. "Do you think that is likely?"

"I have no idea," Tauriel admitted. "Which is exactly what he wants, I believe."

"How so?"

She drew an invisible circle on the floorboards with the tip of her finger while she weighed her answer. "He has told me—and you, I expect—that those serving under him choose to be loyal because of how powerful and influential he is. That with him as their leader, they can expect great things to come their way. That is a lie. It is not power on which he builds his following, nor is it protection. It is fear, plain and simple."

"So he wants us to be scared of him." Kíli sounded doubtful.

"Us, and everyone else. By bringing us here, he seeks to demonstrate something. Two champions, under his roof, doing as he bids them to. From the outside that must seem as if he is a very dangerous man indeed if two such prolific warriors as he has cast us as are willing to follow meekly in his step. And as for us. . . he does his best to leave us in constant uncertainty about our fate, always guessing what might come next. Disoriented. Confused. Afraid."

Kíli bristled. "I'm not afraid."

Tauriel chuckled at his indignant tone, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. "Neither am I. Still, it might be advantageous for Gansukh to believe his strategy to be working."

With his arms crossed, Kíli still looked disgruntled at the mere suggestion of anyone thinking him scared of anything. "So we once again stand by meekly while we wait for him to make up his mind about us?"

"I would not say meekly since I fully intend to use whatever opportunity we get to disrupt any plans of his. But in essence, yes. This seems to me the more reasonable path rather than plunging headfirst into danger when we are not yet familiar with this place."

"How dull to be reasonable," Kíli complained, but the teasing glint in his eyes was undeniable.

Well, two could play that game. "Yes, I have noticed that reason does not run strong in your blood."

He lifted a palm to his chest in feigned offense before his gaze turned mischievous once again. "Just wait and I'll show you the sort of things that do run strong in my blood."

The effect of his threat was somewhat ruined by the impressive yawn which followed it. Tauriel took pity on him, just this once. "You should rest. It has been a long day."

"Nah, I'm fine," Kíli protested, even as he scrunched up his face in an effort to stifle yet another yawn. "We haven't even found out yet what sort of place this is or whether we are expected to join whatever it is they are gearing up for down there."

"I feel quite confident that for the moment we are as safe as we can be, given the circumstances." Reaching out, she clasped his hand and gave a gentle tug. "And I promise to wake you at even the slightest signal this might be about to change."

The frown in Kíli's face persisted, but he did lie down, his head coming to rest on one of the rolled up blankets. Compared to what they had become used to during their captivity, their current circumstances were significantly more luxurious when it came to sleeping arrangements. Still, Kíli wriggled around on the thin straw mat, trying and failing to get comfortable.

Tauriel hesitated, still not quite sure if she trusted herself enough to get close to him again so soon after they had almost abandoned all control over themselves just a few moments ago. Her concern over the dark shadows below Kíli's eyes won out in the end and she scooted across the floor until she was close enough to pull his head onto her lap.

He did stop wriggling then. In fact, he became very, very still and gazed up at her questioningly. Instead of explaining to him that he needed his rest and might be more likely to get it like this, Tauriel reached for the now unoccupied blanket and shook it out in order to be able to spread it across Kíli's shoulders. Since they had come up here, the air drifting in through the window had cooled considerably and would probably get colder still as the night progressed.

"You don't have to—" Kíli began, but Tauriel shushed him by weaving her fingers into his hair.

"I want to."

For once he did not protest and gradually she felt the tension leave his body. She thought he had already fallen asleep when he spoke again.

"What do you think Suri, Ingolf, and Ruari are doing right now? Are they safe?"

"I cannot speak with any certainty to the latter. But as to the former. . . Much the same as we are, I expect."

Looking down, she saw the corner of his mouth lift. "I find that somewhat hard to believe." His hand, which rested on her leg just above her knee, gave a gentle squeeze.

Tauriel squirmed and gave a slight, but very deliberate tug on his hair. "Not that, of course. Although with Ingolf and Suri, one cannot help but wonder. . ."

"Nah," Kíli said through another yawn. "With them, that's more the sort of thing you find between close family. Cousins, perhaps, or siblings, even. Besides, Suri's preferences lie in a different direction."

"Oh." Kíli's knowing smirk had left no doubt as to how he meant that. For a moment, Tauriel grappled with her guilty conscience over discussing their friend's private affairs in her absence, but then her curiosity won out. "How do you even know that?"

True, she had joined their little group of prisoners rather late when the others had already had plenty of time to get to know each other, but she still found it somewhat difficult to imagine that this was the sort of thing they had been discussing in between trips to the arena. Kíli, however, merely shrugged.

"She gave me some advice."

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "Advice?"

"On you. And on how. . . well. . . you know."

He made a vague gesture with his hand, his cheeks having acquired just the faintest touch of pink. Tauriel felt her own face warm in response. "When did you. . . How did she. . . You know what, nevermind. It might be better if I don't know."

"It might," Kíli agreed solemnly.

After a moment in which she collected herself and very firmly told her mind not to stray to the sort of things Suri might have been tutoring Kíli in, Tauriel continued their thread of conversation from earlier. "Anyway, what I meant when I said that they must be doing the same thing we are was surviving. They'll do what needs to be done in order to stay alive and they will understand that all our choices are based on the same need."

"If you say so. . ."

Kili did not sound convinced and Tauriel could not fault him for it. Looked at from a certain angle, their actions could certainly be interpreted as selfish if not downright traitorous. But there was nothing to be done about that now. The only thing they could do that might bring them closer to Suri, Ingolf, and Ruari once more was to wait for the morning and to learn as much as possible about their new surroundings then. Which was achieved most easily with a well-rested body and a calm mind.

At least one of the two Kíli seemed to be headed towards, Tauriel realized as she resurfaced from her musings to discover his eyes had drifted shut, the furrow between his brows now as smooth and even as the rest of his face. Finally able to let go of the last remainders of tension in her neck and shoulders, Tauriel let her head fall back against the wall behind her, her fingers resuming their attentions to Kíli's hair and scalp, more confident now that she needed not fear a repeat of their earlier loss of control.

If she angled her head just right, she was able to catch a glimpse of the sky outside, now a deep indigo with silvery stars sleepily blinking their way into visibility.

They are the same stars you looked to for guidance back home, she reminded herself. Everything may be strange and different here, but you still know who you are and where you come from. And you will persist.

The small voice at the back of her mind, which chirped in with the remark that it was not just her surroundings which had changed, but her heart along with so many of her beliefs and convictions, went ignored for the time being. This was not a good time to question herself or her motives. Instead, she settled in for a long, hopefully quiet night, the warm weight of Kíli's head in her lap firmly anchoring her to the here and now. And that, at least, wasn't quite so bad.