Captives

by Amber815

When Tauriel sets out to investigate suspicious activity beyond the borders of her homeland, little does she know that this is just the beginning of the greatest adventure of her life. The young Dwarf she encounters in captivity fascinates her in ways she cannot quite comprehend and she follows him on a quest that may decide over the lives of many as well as her own happiness.

32. It's (Not) Real

32: It's (Not) Real

"No."

The ringing in Tauriel's ears made it difficult to distinguish between what was happening inside her head and what outside of it. For a moment she thought that it had been she herself who had spoken aloud when the one word her mind had begun repeating in a panicked loop echoed through the silence inside the tent. It was Fíli, though, who had turned to his brother.

"No," he said again, meeting Kíli's incredulous stare. "You can't come with me, Kíli. In Thorin's current state of mind, having you appear at my side would merely aggravate his paranoia. He probably hasn't noticed I am gone yet, so if I sneak back in tonight, he won't suspect me of betrayal when you bring him the stone tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll be able to talk him through it all, now that I don't—now that I'm well again."

Again, Kíli met Tauriel's gaze. What he found there, she could not say for certain, preoccupied as she was with getting her frantic heartbeat to slow down once more. Whatever it was, though, caused him to refrain from starting an argument. "I suppose I'll be on the other side of that wall, then." He narrowed his eyes at his brother as he reached out to put a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "But the minute Thorin shows any signs of turning against you, you get out of there. Promise me, Fíli."

"If what you say is true and there will be legions of enemies upon us any day now, I'm not sure I will be safer outside those walls rather than inside. But yes. If I have no hope of succeeding, I shall find my way back to your side."

The look that passed between the brothers made Tauriel feel like an intruder. She averted her gaze, only to find her king's eyes locked onto her. He looked away, the shadow of a frown grazing his perfectly smooth features, and Tauriel knew that she had already allowed him to see far more than she should have if she wanted to continue hiding her attachment to Kíli from him. The only hope she had was that the idea of her giving her heart to a Dwarf of all people would be so utterly inconceivable in his eyes that he would draw all manner of false conclusions from her actions.

But who knew. As she studied the image of Kíli and his brother, lost in each other, she wondered if perhaps there would not be anything to hide from her king for much longer. Nothing except a broken heart and the painful memories of a few short weeks of turbulent, but all-encompassing happiness.

It was Gandalf who broke the awkward silence that had descended over their group during the brothers' moment of tenderness. "We are all in agreement then? The stone will be taken to Thorin in the morning with no immediate threat of attack?"

The last bit had been directed at Thranduil, mostly, and he gave a long-suffering sigh. "I am not as trusting as you all are that Oakenshield understands any language other than violence. But fine, he shall have one last chance to prove himself." He drew himself up to his full height. "I hereby give my agreement."

"So do I."

"Aye, me too."

Bard and Dáin had drawn closer to the table and the stone laid out upon it once again, their expressions serious as they gave their consent to the plan. Fíli and Kíli had risen, too, Fíli supported slightly by his brother as they joined the group gathered at the center of the tent. Tauriel wasn't entirely sure where her place was right now in all of this, and was grateful when Bilbo took a half step to his right with a quick smile at her, inviting her into their circle as they began poring over the plans spread out on the table, strategizing who would be placed where when the stone would be offered to Thorin at dawn.

It was a difficult, tiring discussion in which each party followed more than one agenda and by the time everyone was at least somewhat satisfied with the plan for the next day, early evening had progressed into nighttime. Everyone except for the Elves among them was either nursing a sore back or rubbing at tired eyes.

As Tauriel moved away from the table, she told herself that she should be pleased with the outcome of their negotiations, for it was more than she had hoped for when they had first come to Dale. Yes, Thranduil was still mostly preoccupied with obtaining the gems he yearned for from the Dwarves, but the fact that his army would be on standby come morning even though he had promised not to attack the mountain yet, spoke of him taking their warnings at least somewhat seriously. If there really was an attack coming quite so soon, the Mirkwood forces would greatly improve their chances of winning. The same was true for Dáin's troops, of course, and it seemed that for now they would be positioned wherever Thranduil put his army. It wasn't ideal, not by far, and the tensions between the individual parties continued to make her uneasy. But it was something.

With their plans laid out, the members of their impromptu war council prepared to part ways for now, their minds already on their next tasks. Bard was visibly eager to check on the progress of his improvised army, which he had left with unclear instructions over whom they would be fighting come morning. Dáin, too, hurried off to join his troops, which were still camped in the foothills of Erebor. Bilbo was led off by Gandalf to discuss further details of his adventures with the Dwarves, presumably.

Which left Tauriel alone inside a tent with Thranduil, Kíli, and Fíli, and she could not have felt more uncomfortable.

"How much longer can you stay?"

The tentative hope in Kíli's voice was easily discernible. Fíli shrugged.

"A few hours at least, I should say. It's a large mountain—no one is going to think much of it if they don't come across me for one night. And besides," he quirked an eyebrow at his younger brother, "I have a feeling that there is quite a bit more to your tale than what I've heard so far."

Kíli met Tauriel's gaze for a fleeting moment before he ducked his head. "You could say that."

"Well, I'd like to hear it then."

"And you shall." Kíli hesitated only a moment before he straightened up and turned to look at Tauriel once more, his gaze focused in the manner she could tell was him trying his hardest to not glance at Thranduil as he spoke. "Will you join us?"

While Fíli looked a bit puzzled by Kíli extending this invitation to her, Tauriel felt the tips of her ears burn. If she accepted, the suspicions her king most likely already harbored would harden. But there was no way around this, was there? She had been naive to think that hiding something that had brought such fundamental change to her life from Thranduil would remain an option for very long. If she wanted what she and Kíli had cultivated between them during the weeks of their captivity to have any chance to survive in their real lives, she needed to stand up for it. Even if was terribly hard to do so.

She straightened her spine under Kíli's gaze, made to reply. Before she could, Thranduil spoke.

"Tauriel, a word."

Kíli's mouth twitched into a slight grimace and Tauriel had to resist the urge to hang her head. So much for her tentative hope that Thranduil would be too mystified by what was right in front of his eyes to immediately react to it.

She gave a minute shake of her head, letting Kíli know that there was no point in her denying her king's request. Not entirely able to hide his unhappy frown, Kíli turned to Fíli.

"I saw a communal kitchen not far from here on our way in. We should get some food into you while you listen to what I have to say. Wouldn't want you having to handle Thorin on an empty stomach."

As he led his brother to the tent's entrance, he met her gaze for another split second and she hurried to give him a small nod. She knew now where to find them once she was done here.

Alone with Thranduil for the second time in a mere few hours, Tauriel felt a bone-deep weariness creep up her spine. Sitting down with the two young Dwarves and a bowl of hot soup sounded appealing, even if the inquisitive looks the older of the two Durin brothers had been giving her were not entirely blameless when it came to her ever-mounting anxiousness. But, alas, it was not to be. Not yet, at least.

Taking a fortifying breath, she turned to face her king. To anyone not familiar with his ways, his expression might have looked like the same, artfully disinterested, cold mask with which he greeted most people and situations. Tauriel could detect it without too much effort, though: the pucker of irritation around his lips, the flicker of concern in his eyes.

"There lies danger down that path you are choosing for yourself, Tauriel. Danger—and despair."

"Some might say we all live in dangerous times, my king." It was a poor attempt at evasion, she knew, and lowered her gaze as soon as the words were delivered. And indeed, Thranduil did not let her off quite so easily.

"Do not toy with me," he said, his voice dangerously low as he rolled the stem of his now empty wine goblet between his fingers. "I see the way you look at that Dwarf."

"I do not—" She caught the lie on her tongue before it could slip out. No more cowardice, she reminded herself. "In whatever manner I do or do not look at Kíli does not affect how I conduct myself in this current situation. Trying to come to an agreement with both the Lake-people and the Dwarves is in our best interest—and long overdue."

"Ah, yes." Thranduil glanced down at her as he strode past, towards the middle of the tent. "I do recall you being a passionate advocate of letting our people share in the misery of others."

Her head held low, Tauriel did not react to this barbed comment of his, sensing that there was more to come. And indeed, it did. Having reached the most brightly illuminated space at the center of the tent, Thranduil whirled around to face her, his face as hard as stone. "You have no business here, Tauriel. You ought to get out, get back home, while you still can." She made to protest, but he cut her off with a sharp gesture of his hand. "Don't. What you feel for that Dwarf is not real. Do not let it be your downfall."

Tauriel would have thought that she had long surpassed the time where his words had any capacity to sting, but apparently she had underestimated how violently he could lash out when he saw his way of viewing the world threatening to slip through his fingers. She ground her teeth together so hard that she feared they might crack, willing the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes not to fall. "If these past few months have not been real, then neither have the many hundred years preceding them," she managed, her voice quivering only very slightly. "For I have never felt as alive as I have during them."

Thranduil's cheeks turned a faint pink and Tauriel knew that her words had touched a part of him he kept hidden deep within himself, had wounded it, even. She was glad that he had put enough distance between them that should he decide to draw his blade on her, there would still be time for her to jump back.

"I could order you to leave," he snapped, his voice slowly losing some of its carefully maintained control. "I am still your king, after all."

Whenever Tauriel had imagined a situation in which things would finally come to a head between them, she had pictured herself trembling with fear, terrified of losing everything she had labored for for so long. Now that the time had come, though, a strange calm washed over her. "You are and you could," she simply replied as she held his gaze. The words she did not say hung heavy in the air between them: But you won't.

A breath passed, then two, and still he did not speak, his eyes locked onto her across the gulf of the tent. Slowly, slowly, she turned away and walked the few steps necessary to take her to the flap of fabric covering the entrance, his gaze burning on the back of her head all the while. She reached for the canvas, rough under her fingertips, waiting for the words that would sign her fate, one way or the other.

Nothing.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the piercing night air.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

As Tauriel let the bustle in the streets of the city of Dale absorb her, she felt indecisive over whether she wanted the crowd to carry her towards the meeting place she had indirectly agreed upon with Kíli or away from it. Where just a few minutes ago her desire to be in his company had even eclipsed her fear of his brother's reaction when he found out about them, she was now a little more conflicted about searching out the two young Dwarves.

She was still quite proud of herself for how she had stood up to Thranduil in a way she would never have thought herself capable of. That did however not change the fact that his words had hurt. Hurt because they had struck a chord within her, loathe as she was to admit it.

What if he was right? What if none of what she and Kíli had built between them was real? She feared that if she saw Kíli now, he would take one look at her and detect the doubt in her eyes. And perhaps that would push him further away from her, into the waiting arms of his sorely-missed brother. Perhaps going through all the struggles ahead of them for someone who carried that nagging sense of doubt in her heart, who was so pathetically weak despite all her attempts to remain strong, would simply be too much of an effort.

A voice at the back of her mind kept reminding her that by allowing Thranduil's strategically aimed comment so much influence, she was merely making his words come true. Playing right into his hand, so to speak. Still, she could not help it. The thing which had been festering inside her heart all evening was threatening to spill over and she was not sure if she wanted to be by Kíli's side when it did or rather far, far away from him.

In the end, the decision whether she should find Fíli and Kíli or not was taken out of her hands when a person significantly shorter and stouter than her blocked her path.

"There you are, lass. Thought I'd never find you amidst all that tall folk. I must say, I'm mostly alright with you, seeing that we've been through some truly fucked up stuff together, but the rest of your pointy-eared kin?" Ruari shot a poignant glare at two Mirkwood soldiers passing them by in the narrow street, their smooth features scrunched up in obvious disgust as they stared at him. "Could have done without them making this whole mess even messier."

Tauriel felt the first genuine smile in hours tug on the corners of her mouth. "Thanks Ruari. I've grown quite fond of you as well."

This earned her the glare she had been aiming for. "Really? That's all you have to say about this whole—" he made a vague, waving gesture at the crowded streets, where more than one Elven soldier could be seen moving amongst the men and women of Lake-town, "—situation?"

Her smile dimming a little, Tauriel gave a small sigh. "I could say more, I suppose, but I do not think it would have much of an effect. I am barely a player in this game, after all."

Unexpectedly, the look which Ruari gave her contained a fair bit of sympathy. She had assumed he had spent the day drinking and resting with the Iron Hills Dwarves, but now she wondered how much of what had happened inside Dale's city walls had already reached his ears.

"I may not seem like the most qualified person to say this, given that I have the unfortunate tendency to make myself scarce when things grow too difficult," he said with a wry twist to his lips, "but I do find that the decision to play or not is usually one's own to make. Not everybody else's. And you, Elf, may be many things, but you are not a bystander. And now let's go find that Dwarf prince of yours before he chews off his fingertips worrying over your whereabouts."

Tauriel did not ask how he knew that Kíli was waiting for her nor how he had been able to somewhat guess her current dilemma. Instead, she chose to take his insightful words—rare, from Ruari, and all the more meaningful because of it—to heart. A few hours in the company of her people and she was already starting to slip back into old patterns; this could not be what was supposed to happen.

She nodded. "I'm ready."

As promised, Kíli and Fíli were at the improvised communal kitchen run by a pair of stout, ruddy faced women who pushed bowls of stew into the hands of everyone who set foot into the crowded, disordered, yet surprisingly cozy space they had converted the ground floor of what must have been a tavern once into. The look on their faces said that you had better not reject this offering of food, and so Tauriel clutched her bowl to her chest as she and Ruari navigated their way through the crowd towards the small, rickety table Kíli and Fíli occupied at the far side of the low-ceilinged room.

The brothers' own dishes were empty, the dregs that remained inside long since gone cold, and Tauriel wondered how long she had been drifting through the streets after her conversation with the king. Long enough for Kíli to discuss some of the intricacies of his relationship with her, judging by the look with which Fíli fixed her as soon as he spotted her over Kíli's head.

Where before he had regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, he now stared at her like he was determined to strip away her secrets with his eyes, layer by layer, until he might understand what had compelled his brother to choose her as a companion. Whatever he saw appeared to be at least somewhat satisfying and by the time Tauriel lowered herself onto the bench beside a beaming, albeit visibly tired Kíli, Fíli offered her a small smile, which completely transformed his haggard, tired face.

Across from her, Ruari had squeezed in next to Fíli without so much as a comment, and Tauriel realized that Ruari had to have found the brothers before he had run into her, which meant that he had, in all likelihood, set out specifically to look for her. Not that he would ever admit it. Still, as Kíli settled his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer against his side, she nudged Ruari's knee with hers under the table and mouthed a quiet thank you. The eye-roll she received in return made her smile into her stew as she turned her attention towards it.

"Are you. . . alright?"

Kíli had been watching her eat for a minute or two—more out of a responsibility to her body than out of actual hunger—before tentatively posing his question. On the other side of the table, Fíli and Ruari were engaged in a subdued conversation about Fíli's time at Erebor. Not wanting to disturb them, Tauriel leaned closer to Kíli to answer.

"I honestly cannot say. I don't—I don't know what will happen, tomorrow. I don't know if Thranduil will keep to his word and abstain from an attack. Not after. . . after everything."

"Well, if he doesn't, it won't be your fault." Kíli squeezed her waist when he saw her face. "What, you cannot seriously think it would be? Not that I mean to diminish your importance, but Thranduil clearly has his own agenda. He will do what he wants, no matter the consequences for any of us."

"I wish I was as certain of this as you are. When I spoke to him, earlier, I did not tell him about you and me because I knew he would not take it well and I know how he can be when things do not go as he wants them to. That was foolish of me, of course, because now he has found out the truth anyway and he is not happy. And he does not even know yet that it was my own fault I was captured in the first place. I've—" she drew a shaky breath, "I feel like I have gotten tangled in a web of omissions and half-truths and I cannot break free, and even if I could, I would tear down everything.

"All those weeks, I knew the burden you carried on your shoulders and I tried my best to share it, to help you carry it. But I never. . ." She lifted a hand to her brow, dismayed to find her fingers faintly trembling. "I feel horrible for saying this, but I don't think I truly understood what you were going through. How heavy the weight of responsibility grows when you know that in order to fulfill it, you may need to stand against those you are sworn to protect, to love. Like we both might need to do tomorrow." She shook her head. "Forgive me. I should not be crying to you about this when you have lived like this for months."

Kíli plucked her hand from her face, scooted closer on the bench, even further into her space. "Don't apologize. Not to me. It is I who should be feeling sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"For dragging you along on this journey. For dragging you into this whole mess. My mess."

"Our mess," Tauriel corrected him as she cradled his hand against her chest between both of her palms. "There is nothing to be sorry for. I followed you willingly, didn't I?"

"By my mother's beard, are they always like this?"

Tauriel blinked as she became aware of her surroundings once more and found Fíli and Ruari watching them from across the table with bemused expressions on their faces.

"Aye, pretty much ever since they figured out a thing or two about themselves back in our cells," Ruari answered Fíli's question. "It's heart-warming, occasionally, but for the most part it makes me want to drown myself in a giant tankard of ale."

Fíli gave a non-committal grunt and took a large, pointed swig from the tankard in front of him. His eyes, visible over the rim of his drink, were twinkling though. And for the first time since they had come to Erebor, Tauriel allowed herself a sliver of hope. If the most important person in Kíli's life took her presence at his side in stride, then perhaps there was not only disaster waiting for them down the road.

Kíli had a point, she knew, when he argued that what they did or did not do had less of an impact in the grand scheme of things, in the plans Thranduil, Thorin, and perhaps even Bard were currently concocting. Wouldn't it be better, then, to follow their hearts instead of trying to conform to other people's expectations of them? She had just walked out on a discussion with her king, so whatever she chose to do next could hardly be more provoking.

Ignoring Kíli's glare at the two Dwarves, she turned in her seat to face them and propped her elbows on the table. "If this is so very hard for you to bear, let us discuss some plans instead. What is the next step, then?"

If Fíli was at all taken aback by her swift change of topic towards more strategic matters, he recovered quickly. "For me, mostly what we agreed on before. I'll head back to the mountain soon. Before I do, I'll need to think about which of the Dwarves on the inside I ought to let in on the plan, so that they can assist me when things come to a head tomorrow. Bofur, I thought," he said with a glance at Kíli. "Dwalin and Balin would do almost anything to help Thorin, but they won't stand against him, if worse comes to worst."

Kíli nodded. "Agreed. Nori, I'd suggest. He's sharp. Cunning. And Óin, perhaps."

"Aye. With those three having my back, confronting Thorin won't be as big of a risk as it would be on my own. We will need to tread carefully, though. If Thorin so much as suspects any of us of treachery before Thranduil and Bard make their demands tomorrow, there will be nothing we can do to help our shared cause."

"I still don't like the idea of letting you go back in there by yourself."

Fíli smiled gently at Kíli, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, his brow deeply furrowed. "It will be alright. Thorin may not be quite himself right now, but he's still our uncle. I'll know what signs to look for should things get really dangerous. And besides," his smile turned wry, "I have the advantage of knowing how this. . . sickness works. After all, a few hours ago, I was prepared to murder you all over that bloody stone."

A collective wince went through their small group.

"You're sure you won't be affected again once you go back inside the mountain?" This was Ruari, who was looking at Fíli as if he wasn't quite certain the other might not grow a second head any moment.

"Looking back on how irrational some of my behavior was during those last few days, I cannot imagine succumbing to the same delusions twice." Fíli spread out his hands on the table, palms turned upward. "But of course there is no way to know for sure. It's a risk I'm going to have to live with and hope that if it does affect me again, I'll be able to remember what is going on on the other side of those gates."

Kíli's elbow bumped into Tauriel's ribs as he squirmed in his seat while trying to reach under his armor. She knew what he was looking for even before he reached across the table to pull Fíli's hand towards him. "Here, perhaps this will make remembering a little easier."

The rune stone gleamed faintly in the candlelight. It fit perfectly in Fíli's calloused palm, as if it had been made for his hands alone. Still, Tauriel experienced a brief moment of jealous discomfort which she quickly brushed aside. The stone belonged to Kíli and was his to give—the role it had played in their shared adventures would not be diminished by the fact that it would now accompany Fíli on the difficult task ahead of him.

Fíli smiled as he caressed the stone with his thumb. "For a while I thought I would never see this again. Thank you—I shall do my best to honor the promise it stands for."

Kíli nodded. "Innik dê."

Pocketing the stone so that it rested right above his heart, Fíli's expression grew more serious again. "So much for my plans, then. What about yours?"

"I ought to speak to Dáin, I suppose. See to it that he does not allow his dislike for the Elvenking to lead our plans astray." Kíli turned towards Tauriel. "And I wondered whether it might be beneficial if you went and talked to Bard. He seemed to like you and perhaps it would be good if he heard the perspective of someone of your kind other than. . . well."

He trailed off, looking a bit contrite.

"Other than my not always rational, more than slightly prejudiced king?"

Kíli chuckled. "Your words, not mine. Would you be alright with that, then? I don't like the idea of splitting up again when everything is so awfully uncertain, but I believe you taking on Bard and I Dáin holds the most promise of success."

"I agree." Tauriel ducked her head to hide the blush she felt starting to creep into her cheeks. It was still strange to hear Kíli refer to their mutual attachment so openly in front of his brother—strange, but good, too. "Before he left Thranduil's tent, Bard hinted that he could use someone to give his more skilled men some basic instructions in archery, so it should not be too difficult for me to find an excuse to speak to him. We can meet back at wherever it is that the Lake-pople are collecting and distributing their weapons."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find." Kíli angled his head towards Ruari. "What about you?"

"I'll head back to the Iron Hills camp with you." Ruari glanced at Fíli. "Unless you need any help getting back into the Mountain? I know a thing or two about sneaking into heavily barricaded places. Treasure hunting, and all that."

Not the worst of suggestions, Tauriel thought. If Fíli were to be discovered trying to steal into Erebor in the dead of night, a substantial part of their plan would fall apart. Fíli, however, did not react to Ruari's offer at all, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind Kíli and Tauriel, a look that could both have been terror or anticipation freezing his features in place.

His eyes narrowed in concern, Kíli leaned forward to wave a hand in front of his brother's face. "Fíli? Hello? Are you still with us?"

Tauriel turned around in her seat to see if she might not discover what it was that warranted such a curious reaction from Fíli. All she saw though, other than the backs of men and women hunched over their food and drink, was a young woman handing a large sack of flour or some other grain to one of the women running the kitchen. The girl's cheeks were flushed from the cold, her light brown hair descending in soft waves where it had come loose from the knot at the back of her neck and framing her already rather pretty face in a becoming manner.

"Who is that?"

Following her question, Kíli, too, turned around, but it was Fíli who answered.

"That's Bard's eldest daughter." He cleared his throat rather awkwardly, looking for all it was worth as if he seriously contemplated simply ducking beneath the table.

"And what terrible powers could a pretty lass like her possibly wield to have you trembling with fear?" Ruari asked rather cheerfully.

"I'm not—That's not—," Fíli began, then promptly fell silent again when the girl in question said her goodbyes to the woman behind the counter and turned around, her eyes immediately falling onto their table as if she had felt them watching her. Whether that was the case or not, she had clearly not been expecting the view she was met with. Her heart shaped mouth fell open in surprise only to be clamped shut again immediately as her eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on Fíli.

"Oh no," he managed weakly, shrinking a little further into the wall at his back as Bard's daughter stalked towards them across the crowded room.

Next to Tauriel, Kíli turned back around to face his brother, one eyebrow quirked in amused bewilderment. "Anything you would like to share with us?"

Before Fíli could answer (not that he seemed capable of forming a coherent sentence right then), their visitor had reached their table. Tauriel experienced a surge of respect for the young woman—faced with four strangers, each of them a warrior in their own right, she did not so much as blink, her gaze steadily fixed on her target. Fíli.

"You," she merely said as she stepped up to the table.

Fíli's confidence, meanwhile, seemed to have developed a mind of its own and made a run for it. "Ah, well, yes," he stammered. "Me. Hello, Sigrid."

Bard's daughter—Sigrid—did not return the admittedly bland greeting. "I heard you had come to the city," she said instead. "Was life inside the great kingdom of your forefathers not everything you hoped it would be, then?"

"I—that isn't what this—"

Again, Fíli floundered, then seemed to collect himself with a deep breath as he met Sigrid's gaze head on for the first time. "No. No, it wasn't. But I believe you knew that already, didn't you?"

A long look passed between the two of them. Next to her, Tauriel could practically feel Kíli thrumming with curiosity and she was a little surprised that he managed to keep silent rather than interrupting this mystifying exchange with a demand for clarification. In fact, she almost wished that he would.

Eventually, Sigrid cocked her head to one side, her eyes losing a little bit of their hardness. "Things have not been so great here either." She glanced down at her now empty hands, traces of the flour she had been carrying still visible on her skin. For the first time, her eyes skimmed over the rest of their small group before landing on Fíli once more. "See to it that they get better. That we all get better."

And with that she turned away and left, leaving Fíli to stare after her with a curious mixture of guilt and hope, fondness and pain.

Kíli's patience ran out right there and then. "What on earth was that?"

Fíli, no longer squashed against the wall, tracked Sigrid's progress to the door before turning to face his brother and the inquisitive stares the rest of their table regaled him with. He sighed. "Sigrid, I—I've met her before. At Lake-town, when I was looking for Thorin and the others."

"I take it you failed to win her over with your charm?"

Ruari's question was met with a small roll of Fíli's eyes. "No. Or perhaps yes—perhaps that's what happened. But it's not all of it." His eyes drifted to the small window above their heads and the tiny sliver of the night sky visible through it. "When the dragon attacked, things got very chaotic very quickly. Sigrid and I, we got stuck together for a bit. For a bit longer than either of us would have liked, I suppose."

He sounded almost sad when he said that last bit, so much so that it made Tauriel want to reach out and pat his hand. Which was odd, because that was not exactly something she did and certainly not with people she barely even knew.

"You did not always see eye to eye?"

There was a teasing edge to Kíli's voice that made Tauriel smack his thigh below the table. Fíli, though, responded with a small chuckle and ran a hand across his face as if trying to smooth away the lines of worry that had settled there. "One way to put it, yes. I was. . . distracted. My thoughts were focused on getting to the Mountain, to find out if any of our party were even still alive. I should have been more considerate towards Sigrid. She had just lost her home and for a while we couldn't even be certain if her family had made it out alive." He shrugged, a small, rueful grin on his lips. "So I suppose it is not entirely without reason that she dislikes me."

"It sounded as if you still have a chance to prove to her that you can do better."

Fíli's surprised gaze shifted to Tauriel at her words, spoken softly amongst the bustle of the former tavern. His eyes dropped to his hands on the tabletop, but Tauriel still caught the faint, hopeful smile on his lips. "Perhaps. It all depends on how well we acquit ourselves in the next few hours."

"And on how well those who hold significantly more power than us behave themselves," Ruari grumbled. "Speaking of which—should we head out? My offer still stands. If you want my help, I'll accompany you back to the Mountain."

Fíli shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll manage. The less people get pulled into this, the better."

"Suit yourself." Ruari turned to Kíli. "I'll come with you, then."

"Aye. I'd like to hear about the general mood among Dáin's forces anyway. You've spent more time with them than I have." Kíli's gaze traveled between Fíli across from him and Tauriel at his side, his teeth leaving small marks in his bottom lip as he chewed on it. "And you are both certain you'll be alright?"

Fíli cocked an eyebrow, his eyes finding Tauriel's. "Are my ears deceiving me or is Kíli really being the cautious one in all this? Whatever have you done with him?"

Tauriel picked up on the mischievous twinkle in his gaze and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Just a few weeks ago he set off an entire wagon load of fireworks inside a tunnel. So whatever this is, it must be a new thing."

Fíli and Ruari roared with laughter, while Kíli buried his face in his hands. "I should have known that you two would be ganging up on me all the time."

Somehow, though, he did not sound all that upset about that fact, his dramatic sighs mixing with their continuing laughter.

Their bellies full and their hearts a little lighter with the fresh memories of friendly conversation, the four of them headed out into the night soon after. While the streets were by no means deserted, the city had grown considerably more quiet in the time they had spent inside. Standing together on the narrow, cobbled street felt a little like a final deep breath one drew before a deep plunge into waters yet unknown, uncharted. Great plumes of white air billowed in the small circle they had formed almost instinctively.

Fíli was the first to leave, the hand which Kíli clasped to his shoulder briefly squeezed between calloused fingers. They brothers didn't speak—everything that needed saying tonight had already been said, and everything that hadn't. . . well. They had to keep hoping that they would live another day to put those things into words.

After the darkened alley had swallowed Fíli's form, Kíli turned to Tauriel. "If anything unexpected happens. . ."

She cut him off by reaching for his hand, entwining their fingers. "It won't. Go and speak to Dáin—I'll be waiting for you when you return."

The words were meant to reassure herself as much as him. They did not exactly have a history of things going according to plan, but she needed to believe that tonight, at least, they would. Tomorrow might change everything, might very well turn their entire existence on its head, but until then fate ought to grant them a little reprieve. They deserved that. Right?

Kíli's fingers squeezed hers, and she saw him debate whether leaning in for a kiss would be worth listening to Ruari's grumbling on their way to Dáin's camp. She took the decision out of his hands by stepping closer and leaning down to press her lips to his, chastely but with the sort of pressure that promised more should they be granted a moment of privacy later tonight.

As expected, Ruari gave a tortured groan at this display of affection and they broke apart, laughing. It was better to say goodbye like this, Tauriel thought, than letting the anxious pressure inside her chest guide her words and actions.

Kíli looked up at her one last time, a soft smile curving his lips. "I'll see you in a bit, then." He seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but then something caught his eye somewhere behind Tauriel and he frowned, his brows drawn together in confusion.

"What? What is it?" Tauriel turned around to look down the alley, but all she saw was a group of men who had left the tavern after them, huddled close together against the cold. None of them looked familiar. She turned back to Kíli with her eyebrows raised.

"Nothing, I—" Kíli shook his head, ran his hand across his brow. "Nevermind. I thought I saw something, but my eyes must have tricked me. I must be more tired than I thought."

Ruari knocked their shoulders together. "Let's get going then. The night is not getting any younger and before we know it, there won't be any of it left to have a bit of rest."

"Right." Kíli nodded, looked at Tauriel again. "Be careful."

"You too."

She watched them disappear down the alley in the opposite direction Fíli had gone a few minutes earlier, Kíli walking backward for a good portion of it to send her a last smile and an endearing little wave. He nearly tripped over his feet right after, was yanked upright by a huffing Ruari, who maneuvered them both around a corner and out of sight. And once again, Tauriel was alone.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection, looking up and down the alley while she debated which way to go. The city wasn't that big and she was sure to cross paths with someone who could help her find Bard no matter in which direction she went now. With a small sigh she thus followed in the steps of the men who had left the tavern after them. Perhaps they, too, were headed to the armory.

The brisk pace she had set off at soon slowed once more when she realized that she was being followed. Sounds, smells, even the quality of light worked differently inside the city than they did in the forest, her homeland, and it had taken her a little time to adjust, to be able to trust her senses. Now she was quite certain that there was someone watching her every step, someone hiding in the many shadows surrounding her.

The alley she was currently headed down was deserted, not a soul in sight. In the distance, she could hear voices, could see the orange gleam of fires over the roofs of some of the lower buildings. Here, though, she was alone with whoever was trailing her.

She waited until she passed a particularly dark stretch of the alley to silently slide into the doorway of a crumbling building. A gaping hole in the wall, rather, for it looked as if whatever door might have been there once had been blasted off its hinges by a powerful blow, taking parts of the frame and the outer wall with it. With her pulse thrumming rapidly at the back of her throat, she flattened herself against cold, uneven stone while she waited for her pursuer to make an appearance.

Who was it? Had Thranduil sent one of his soldiers after her? That seemed the most likely scenario. But if it was indeed a Mirkwood Elf following her, what was their assignment? Just to watch her? Or. . . more? While she would not have put it past her king to have someone who stood in his way assassinated, she did not think he would go that far in her case. Not after the glimpse of tenderness he had shown her on that rooftop, earlier today. But a forced restraint, an imprisonment in her 'own interest'. . . those were things she could very well imagine Thranduil to revert to after their argument in the tent.

Either way, she prepared herself for a fight, hands poised to draw her weapons at even the slightest sign of a threat. And she waited. Not for long—barely a minute had passed before she heard the sound of boots cuffing against the cobblestones outside her hideout, accompanied by a string of muttered curses. This wasn't an Elf—if it had been, they would have known to be more stealthy.

With her fingers curled tightly around the hilt of one of her blades, she ducked back into the alley, silent and swift as a shadow. Her pursuer was right outside the crumbling building, back turned to her. A man, she guessed from his considerable height and broad shoulders that were concealed beneath a hooded cloak. She stepped closer. If she got him from behind, she would easily be able to get him to drop any weapons he might be carrying with her blade against his throat. She adjusted her grip on her blade, curled her toes inside her boots, ready to pounce—and stopped dead when she felt the point of a knife press against the side of her neck.

How had she missed that she had not one but two followers? A small sound of surprise made it past her lips before she could stop it, which caused the man in front of her to turn around. And break into a wide grin.

Her blade clattered to the ground, the sound unnaturally loud in the deserted alley.

"Ingolf!"