19: Bolder Than the Darkness

The next few days passed in a very similar fashion to that first one, beginning at the crack of dawn with an inspection from one of the stern-faced, authoritative wardens. There were three of them, Tauriel thought, though they resembled each other so closely that she sometimes wondered if she was imagining things and they were one and the same woman after all.

After that, their routine consisted of several hours of training, followed by an afternoon in the armory, the gardens (which Tauriel enjoyed even more than working with the weapons), and, once, the kitchens, though she suspected that would remain a one-time occurrence after the truly horrid thing Kíli had managed to do to the stew they had been tasked with helping cook. They had yet to see Gansukh again, though that was not something Tauriel felt particularly remorseful about.

Every time they were taken down to the beach, she and Kíli spent as much time as they could examining the beach itself and the cavern attached to it more closely, looking for alternative routes of escape. So far, however, without results. There were no tunnels, no secret paths or hidden stairways leading away from their training ground, not as far as they were able to tell, at least. None but the sea itself, but that had already been ruled out quite spectacularly on day one.

On their second day, they spent a both disturbing and oddly entertaining hour tossing stones, pieces of debris, and some small chunks of bread into the water, looking on in morbid fascination as whatever beast was lurking beneath the waves caught them in its fleshy tentacles. A few times, it even threw their missiles back at them, and for yet another while they tried to figure out a pattern behind what was devoured and what was rejected. It seemed there was none, and Tauriel began to hypothesize that the beast merely wanted to play.

That was where Kíli drew a line, apparently, and put a stop to the whole thing by closing his fingers around her wrist before she could hurl yet another piece of driftwood she had just picked up. "You're trying to make friends with it!"

"I am not! Besides, how would one even become friends with a monster that wants to eat us alive?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who seems to be on the verge of making a dozen mittens for its slimy appendages."

She huffed, forgetting, for a hysterical moment, what it was they were quarreling about. "I don't even know how to knit!"

Kíli crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at her shrewdly. "Well, I expect you won't mind learning for your good old pal Mr. Tentacles here."

And, really, how was one supposed to argue with that?

In conclusion, then, the beach was mostly ruled out as a means of escape from the island. Even if there had been a way to make for the mainland from there, Tauriel doubted whether their companions would simply have let them go without trying to stop them. The topic had not come up again, neither with Nesrin or any of the others, but from time to time, Tauriel could feel them watching, waiting for signs of dissent from both her and Kíli.

Outside of the training units down by the beach, there was little time to examine their surroundings without the risk of being observed by one of the guards or other household staff. The inhabitants of the loft were, for the most part, left to do their chores in peace, but Tauriel was only too aware of the constant presence of watchful eyes nearby.

While she went about her assigned tasks, she tried to surreptitiously glance around her surroundings, looking for patterns in the staff's behavior, cataloging dark corners and narrow passages, memorizing which items could be found where should she ever find herself in need of them. Anything, in short, that might help her and Kíli escape. A coherent plan, however, still seemed frustratingly far beyond reach.

What made their scheming even more difficult, was the simple fact that most of their work was rather demanding and left little room to spare for any simultaneous tasks. Each night, they all but collapsed onto their cots, their muscles trembling and their bones aching from their multitude of activities.

As if the guilty conscience brought about by the fact that they had made so little progress towards being reunited with their friends was not enough already, a different, niggling sort of worry had taken up residence in Tauriel's chest and plagued her during those long, quiet hours of the night. For while on that first day on the island, she and Kíli had made a tentative promise to each other that the bond between them would not simply be dissolved once their shared adventure ended, they had both kept their distance over the past few days as well as living together in close quarters allowed.

Now, for her part, Tauriel knew quite well what made her refrain from seeking Kíli's closeness, for her reasons were much the same as they had been during that second night, when every cell of her body had yearned for Kíli in a way she never would have thought herself capable of.

As for Kíli, though. . . What if it wasn't just a guilty conscience that was making him lie perfectly still on his straw mat night after night while her own heart was racing inside her breast, her limbs weak with her own need? What if he had simply changed his mind about her? During the day, they were mostly inseparable still, going about their tasks side by side. But even as he joked with her, teased her, and engaged her in easy conversation, there was a new sort of tension there which their relationship had not known while they had still been locked up in separate cells, fighting for their lives day in, day out.

Maybe she had pushed too hard, too soon, after all. She had so little experience with those new feelings that it was only logical to assume that she would misstep sooner rather than later. And now the thought that Kíli might not return her feelings with the same intensity with which she was experiencing them was unbearable in ways she couldn't even put into words.

But then again, he had given every indication that he felt the same way she did, had he not? All of this—those touches in the dark, those promises whispered breathlessly and in secret—had not all been her doing, but his as well. But if that was so, then why wasn't he reaching out to her now, when she was merely waiting for a reason to throw all caution to the wind and be with him in the way she knew she wanted to?

Lying on her side in the dark on their fifth night on the island, watching the gentle rise and fall of Kíli's shoulders in what little moonlight filtered through their narrow window, Tauriel wanted to bite her fist in frustration. She probably had no one but herself to blame for her current predicament, but that did not mean that she could not feel the intense desire to hit something.

Once she was completely certain that Kíli had fallen asleep—which, if she wasn't completely mistaken, had taken him a lot longer tonight than it usually did—she slowly crossed the wasteland of the straw mat separating them with her hand, careful not to make a single sound. With her fingertips resting lightly against his back, his warmth seeping into her skin like a life-giving tonic, she was finally able to find at least a little bit of peace.

Who would have thought that Tauriel, captain of King Thranduil's prestigious guard, who had remained largely unattached throughout the six hundred long years of her life, would be shaken so thoroughly in her equilibrium by the uncharacteristic reticence of one Dwarf? Not her, that much was for sure. And yet. . . and yet.

The following day began in very much the same way as all others had since their arrival. Rising with the sun, a simple, yet filling breakfast, followed by a cursory inspection by one of the wardens (Twitchy, Kíli had nicknamed her on their third day due to the slight movement of the corners of her mouth whenever she disapproved of something). Then they followed a guard in single file through the by now familiar maze of buildings and along the path beside the wall until they reached the small iron gate, where they were ushered inside and then left to their own devices for the time being.

It was a sunny day, but Tauriel could tell that here, too, summer was coming to an end, with the days growing slightly shorter and the nights colder up in the drafty loft. How would it be like to pass the whole of the dark, cold season here, much further south than her homeland? It would certainly be warmer, less miserable than winter in the north, she thought. Not that she was much bothered by the cold, but it would be nice to catch glimpses of the sun from time to time, to feel a breeze on her face that was not like the prick of icy needles.

But there was no use wondering about that, was there? She would not, could not stay here long enough to find out. And more importantly, she should not want to. No matter how well-crafted the illusion of safety and purposefulness, which Gansukh's entire household worked so hard on upholding, was. Sooner or later, life here would take a turn and show its true, ugly face, of that she was still convinced. And she did not want to be here when it did.

Still, if she was honest with herself, the part of herself which wanted to believe in said illusion was slowly becoming just as big as the one insisting to mistrust it. And that fact alone was nettling enough that it made her start into their training routine with a foul mood and a distracted mind. So much so that she missed a crucial step in her sword practice with Olov and ended up taking a blow to her temple from his blunt yet heavy blade.

"Blasted Elf, what are you trying to do here? Make yourself yet another head shorter than me?"

Olov was not one to hold back his frequent curses, which were more often than not directed at his sparring partners. Underneath his scowl and his harsh words, though, the concern for those who accidentally ended up on the receiving end of one of his impressively forceful maneuvers with the sword was in most cases easily detected. As was the case now, with Tauriel pressing her palm against her throbbing face.

"I am fine," she said, even though that had not been the question. Her hand, when she brought it in front of her face, was thankfully devoid of any blood. "I must have lost focus there, for a second. It shall not happen again."

"For a second?" Olov huffed. "Your head's not been in it since you picked up that blade. I might as well be fighting little Timon over there."

Timon, who was by no means little, though admittedly rather clumsy with a blade, overheard that last bit. He lowered the spear he had just been about to launch at one of the targets set up further down the beach. "Oi! Be careful whom you're calling 'little' around here. My spear might miss its target and end up sticking out of your meaty arse instead."

While Olov's booming laughter echoed across the beach, Tauriel smiled softly, then winced when doing so caused pain to bloom across the right side of her face. She would end up with a nasty bruise, that much was certain.

"I apologize if I did not live up to your expectations," she joked to Olov, though the strain in her voice somewhat depleted her statement of its humor. "I will try harder. Let's go again."

"No way," Olov said. "I have enough to worry about without a vengeful Dwarf forever haunting me for beheading his favorite Elf. Take a break. We can do another round when you've pulled your head out of whatever cloud it is you lofty people float around on."

With that he stalked away towards where his brother Oleg was swinging a heavy axe at an invisible opponent, leaving Tauriel to chew on the conflicting feelings which being called Kíli's favorite Elf had roused. She shook her head at herself as she took Olev's advice and made her way across the beach, to where a series of large rocks made it possible to climb up and away from the beach for a few yards before melting into cliffs so steep that even someone with Tauriel's lightfootedness could not have scaled them.

There was a little space up there where the ground was flat enough to sit with one's back against the cliffs and gaze out at the sea without constantly having to concentrate on not slipping and splitting open one's skull on the jagged rocks. From the beach, this space was only visible if one ventured out close enough to the water that one's toes almost touched the surf, which, due to a certain tentacly beast, everyone generally avoided. Among their group, it was a heavily contested spot for their daily mid-morning break, but since it was so early in the day still and everyone had just commenced training, there was no one to vie Tauriel her place up here.

No one except for one person, it seemed, when a mere few minutes after she had arrived, she heard the tell-tale sounds of someone else making the demanding climb. The curious mixture of relief and nervous anticipation which coursed through her the second in which Kíli's head of dark, messy locks appeared over the ledge of her little outlook was more than a little ridiculous. She managed a faint smile as he heaved himself onto the small platform and came to sit beside her, close, but not as close as she would have liked him to.

He returned her smile and held out what appeared to be a wet lump of cloth. Closing her fingers around it, she realized that it had been soaked in cold water. In one of the small pools deep inside the cavern, probably, where sunlight never ventured to.

"For your head," Kíli explained when she merely stared in confusion at the heap of wet fabric resting on her palm. When she still made no move, he tutted, covered her hand with his and guided it and the damp cloth to her temple, exerting the gentlest of pressures. It stung, badly so. And yet Tauriel found herself leaning into the soothing coolness, made even more comforting by the touch of Kíli's hand upon hers.

All too soon, he let go and scooted back a few inches, leaving Tauriel feeling both sore and bereft. Was she mistaken, or was the smile he offered her somewhat apologetic?

"What happened, down there?" His gaze trailed over the battered side of her face, his eyes widening with sympathy at what had to be the beginnings of a spectacular bruise. "Do I need to have a stern word with Olov?"

Tauriel shook her head. "I put my feet where they did not belong and ended up with Olov's blade on my face. Those things happen—none of this was his fault. And even if it were, I would be perfectly capable of dealing with him myself."

Kíli chuckled. "I have no doubts about that. And yes, those things do happen—not to you, though. I haven't known you terribly long, so forgive me if it's presumptuous to say that making a mistake like this does not seem like you."

His face had turned serious towards the end there, his gaze filled with concern. Tauriel, meanwhile, was still fighting to swallow against the tight knot in her throat which hearing Kíli say that he had not known her for very long had caused to form. It was the truth, of course, but at the same time, did going through the things they had been through together not measure up against a longer period of intimacy? Somewhat, at least?

"No, you're right," she forced out around the breathless pressure inside her chest. "It is not like me to walk away with a bruise like this from a practice fight." She stared at her bare toes, white against the dark stone of the cliffs, gathering all her courage. "But neither is it like you, I believe, to become all withdrawn during the day and even more so during the night."

Her face burned with the knowledge that Kíli would have to be very dense indeed to not understand what she was implying, but still she forced herself to look up at him once the words had left her lips. He was studying her with a level gaze, one she had not seen him wear often. Something flitted across his face, too fast to grasp, and he turned away from her, scooting forward to dangle his legs over the edge of the platform and gaze out at the sea, his back turned to her.

Tauriel's heart raced inside her chest. Was this the moment when he would ask her to be absolved of the promise they had made to each other a mere few days ago? The promise that somewhere, beyond all this, they would find both a place and a time to explore what had grown between them?

She could not tell if it was because of the blood rushing inside her ears or the crashing of the waves against the cliffs below, but either way it was very hard to hear Kíli's voice over the noise when he finally spoke.

"Do you ever think," he began haltingly, "how it would be so very easy to just stop?"

"Stop what?" Tauriel's hands had begun to tremble and she tucked them under her knees where they were pulled up against her chest.

"Just. . . everything, I suppose." Kíli glanced at her over his shoulder and gave a humorless smile. "I have been on this quest for months, now, and could not be further from where I was supposed to end up. But even before that, it was all about living up to my heritage, proving that I was worth being a part of this whole mad undertaking. What if I—what if I just stopped? Stopped struggling against forces that are so much more powerful than I could ever hope to understand, stopped trying to be deserving of a name that is in the end just that—a name? Stopped, and just. . . just lived?"

By the end of his speech Tauriel had stopped breathing entirely. It was not terror, though, which had caused the air to become trapped in her lungs, but relief.

"I wonder about that constantly," she said, trying not to show what a tremendous weight his words had just lifted off her shoulders.

"You do?"

"Well, perhaps not in the exact same way you do," she amended. "There is not much worth to my name and I have no one who ever expected me to go very far in life in the first place. But since coming here, I have asked myself what it would be like to stop struggling. To accept what we are offered, like Nesrin, Timon, and the others are doing. And, much like you, I believe, the fact that I might even consider such a thing has tormented me greatly."

Now Kíli did turn around fully to face her once more, his expression pained. "It has tormented me, yes. I thought that you would think me such a coward if you were to find out."

"Oh Kíli, how could I? Was it not you who told me just a few days ago that I was no coward for wanting us both to be safe?"

He hesitated. "I did. But that is not quite the same thing as considering to abandon everyone else just because you are allowed a shot at. . . I don't even know at what, exactly. Something that does not involve dragons, and monsters, and treasure, and bloody honor."

"It is alright to doubt," she said quietly once he had finished, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the force of his mounting agitation. "Do you not think, though, that the burden of our doubts and the realization that doing what we know needs to be done will come at a harder price than we perhaps thought, would be lighter if it was shared?" Her own eyes burned as she took in his pain, his struggle, which she now knew to be the same as hers. "You need not hide from me, meleth nîn."

He hung his head, his hair falling into his face to hide his expression. His fingers twitched at his side, and he balled his hand into a fist, causing Tauriel to expect an argument. What happened instead was that he surged towards her, cradling her face between his palms. The kiss he pressed to her lips was not gentle. It was messy, desperate. It was as much a plea for forgiveness as it was an affirmation of their promise. It was the best kiss they had ever shared.

Tauriel endeavored to pour everything into her response and it was only when they eventually broke apart that she remembered the throbbing ache in the right half of her face and winced.

"Forgive me," Kíli whispered and rested his forehead against hers. His touch against her bruised skin was now feather-light, like a butterfly resting its wings. Whether he meant to offer apology for his actions during the last days or his slightly too rough kiss remained unclear, but it did not matter either way. There was nothing to be sorry for.

"The right path will reveal itself to us before too long," she said as she reached up to clasp her hands around his. Now that she knew that he shared her doubts, it was somehow much easier to convince herself that they were doing the right thing by waiting for the right opportunity for an escape to present itself. "And when it does, we shall walk it together. If that—if that is still what you want, that is."

He kissed her again, then, briefer and more chaste than before. "What a fool I would be not to."

And that was that. Reassured that she had not entirely misunderstood everything that had happened between them in the recent past and more optimistic than ever that their bond would indeed stand a chance despite their uncertain future, Tauriel found it much easier to get through the remainder of the day and the many routines which life on the island entailed. Even when she and Kíli were split up in the afternoon for their work in the armory—Kíli being taken to the forgery while Tauriel remained with Nesrin, Naima, and Timon to mend a large pile of leather weapon belts and armguards—she took it in stride.

That night, Kíli did not turn his back to her. When the last candle was extinguished somewhere inside the loft, he still lay on his side with his head propped up on his arm, gazing down at her where she reclined on her back. The last hour had been spent in idle conversation interrupted by the occasional brush of lips or innocent caress.

Now, in the almost‐dark, Kíli's eyes were bottomless, dark pools, his lips glistening in the silver moonlight from where his tongue had darted out to wet them nervously. Feeling rather bold, Tauriel pushed herself up on her elbows and captured that full bottom lip between hers, leaving no room for doubt that this was not intended to be a chaste kiss. He followed her encouragement with a muted sigh and within a few seconds she found herself pressed into her unforgiving straw mat by the glorious weight of his body coming to rest on top of hers, warm, and firm, and so very real.

It were her hands which found their way underneath his tunic first, pushing aside the lapels of fabric so that she might explore the hard planes of his chest first with her palms and then with her lips. She did not have to wait long for him to return the favor and arched up into his touch rather enthusiastically when the roughened pad of his thumb first brushed against her already hardened nipple.

As Kíli lavished his complete attention on each new body part he uncovered, staying quiet soon became a challenge. It was one which she gladly accepted, however, if it meant that she finally got to experience the feeling of Kíli's skin on hers, all boundaries, both those of the flesh and those of the mind, overcome in their nightly union.

It felt both too soon and not nearly soon enough when her legs spasmed around his hips as the tide of her passion flooded her from within, pulling him deeper into her with each of his thrusts. His rhythm stuttered, beads of sweat gleaming on his forehead as he chased after that final, that ultimate moment of fulfillment. On top of their hard straw mat, they collapsed against each other, a heap of trembling, tangled limbs, their breaths coming in hot gusts against each other's quickly cooling skin. It was messy, it was uncomfortable, it was perfect.

Minutes passed before Kíli raised himself up on his elbows to gaze down at her. Her long red tresses had gotten all tangled up during their encounter and he brushed those that were sticking to her damp skin out of her face. "Was that what you had in mind when you suggested having less fabrics in the way?"

A laugh bubbled up in Tauriel's chest at the memory of that particular conversation and the circumstances leading up to it. Quickly, she stifled the sound by pressing her face into his shoulder. "Something of that sort, yes." Feeling bold, she added, "Though there are some other. . . variations we might explore sometime. If you are interested."

Kíli wriggled his eyebrows suggestively before planting a kiss on her, his smile not leaving his lips as he did so. "Count me in." He glanced behind himself, then reached for a rumpled blanket to pull over their bodies. "It had better not be tonight, though. Nesrin might cut off some parts that are essential for any such future activities if we're not quiet now."

Tauriel giggled quietly and followed Kíli's movements when he slowly rolled off of her, her head coming to rest on his shoulder once he had stretched out beside her on his back. "We would not want that," she whispered. "And, anyway, you should sleep. It is quite late."

"Hmm." Kíli's drowsiness was already evident in his voice. Still, he cupped her cheek and turned her head so that he might press another, lingering kiss to her lips. "I'd rather stay awake with you, though, and count the stars in the sky."

"They are still going to be here on any other night," she promised. "As will I."

Kíli's fingers tightened against her bare skin where he had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. "You have to be," he mumbled. "You're the brightest star of them all."

His breaths quickly became slow and even as sleep gradually took him. And for the first time in several nights, Tauriel did not feel lonely and strangely bereft when that happened. No—tonight she felt full, and warm, and safe in the knowledge that no matter what happened next, nothing and no one could take this away from her.

A/N: Chapter title inspired by Ben Howard's "These Waters"