33: (Brighten My) Northern Sky

The knife at her neck was withdrawn and, sure enough, Suri stepped around her and came to stand beside Ingolf, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"I—you—how?"

Laughing at Tauriel's uncharacteristic splutter, Ingolf held out his hands, palms upturned. "Surprise!"

That it was indeed. But, seeing that there was no doubt that these really were her friends, Tauriel stepped forward and embraced them both at once, which was a little awkward given Suri's and Ingolf's difference in height.

"What are you doing here? And why are you sneaking up on me in dark alleys? I thought someone had been sent to capture me. . . or worse!"

At that, Ingolf looked rather contrite. "Yes, well, sorry about that." He glared at Suri. "You didn't really have to hold a knife to her throat, did you?"

Suri shrugged and winked at Tauriel who had no energy to be truly upset anyway. Not when two of the people she held most dearly in the world had been returned to her side so very unexpectedly. Now that her initial surprise began to somewhat subside, she was starting to put some things together in her mind.

"It was you whom Kíli saw before, was it not? In front of the tavern? He thought he was imagining things, but clearly he wasn't."

"Aye." Ingolf nodded. "We had been searching for you for a bit already."

"Why didn't you come talk to us, then? Why wait until we almost had a go at each other's throats with our blades?"

Her tone was light as she asked this, for the whole situation now seemed a bit silly to her. Ingolf, though, looked rather grave, as did Suri. They exchanged an uneasy glance.

"We. . . wanted to see you alone first. Before we. . . well."

Ingolf's hesitation had Tauriel frown deeply. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, what?"

At a gentle prod from Suri, Ingolf sighed. "We came to Dale expecting to find everyone preparing for this great battle against Orcs, goblins, and whatnot. We came to offer our support." Again, he glanced at Suri, looking almost. . . guilty? "But then we heard all those terrible stories, about a dragon being unleashed on a town, people losing their homes because of it. About a group of Dwarves hiding out inside that big lump of a mountain, prepared to go to war against those who have suffered so much already rather than let them share in their riches. And we just. . . weren't sure anymore whether that was something we wanted to be a part of."

Tauriel released a slow breath through her nose as her heart clenched painfully in her chest on behalf of Suri and Ingolf, who had been through so much already, had been ripped from their homes, their families, had been sold like cattle to the highest bidder. And all because of the insatiable greed, the dangerous ambition of a small group of people. It was only understandable that they would feel appalled by the mess they had walked into now. It was all understandable, except. . .

"And you were not sure you could still trust Kíli and Ruari anymore?" She put her hands on her hips. "Really? After everything the five of us have been through together?"

Suri frowned as she looked at the ground. Ingolf heaved yet another sigh. "Put like that, it makes us sound like terrible people. But have you heard what they say about that mountain? They say that it turns people—or Dwarves, rather—mad. It happened to the last king and now it's happening again, apparently. And all because of what? Gold? Gemstones? Not a good reason to let people suffer in front of your doorstep, if you ask me."

"No, no it is not." Tauriel's voice felt small as she glanced in the direction of Erebor, now shrouded in darkness. "You are right to say that and you are also right that whatever happened when yet another city—this city—was lost many years ago is happening again." She took a step closer, seeking and holding first Suri's gaze then Ingolf's. "But I promise you that it is not affecting Kíli. I have seen with my own eyes what someone who is under the thrall of the treasure beneath that mountain looks like."

Ingolf's eyebrows rose. "You have?"

"The Dwarf you probably saw us with before, that was Kíli's brother. When he came to Dale just a few hours ago he was prepared to strike down anyone who stood in the way between him and the Dwarves' most prized jewel. Even Kíli."

"But. . . he got better?"

"He did. Which is why I know that there is still a chance to turn this whole thing around, to convince the Dwarves of Erebor to fight side by side with both Men and Elves." She smiled as Bilbo's words from earlier came to mind. "They may be rough in their manners and hard-headed to the extent that they really might have been hewn from stone. And I will not pretend that the last weeks spent in their company have not been frustrating at times, and utterly bewildering at others. But once they have come to care about someone, they will not simply forget about them. They love without restraint. They are loyal. And we owe the same loyalty to Kíli and to any Dwarf who chooses to follow his path rather than that of his uncle, who is, admittedly, not well at the moment."

By the time she was finished with her little speech, Suri had cast her eyes down and Ingolf was shifting uncomfortably in his spot. "Now I really do feel like a complete arse."

Tauriel laughed. Even with Ruari for company, she had missed Ingolf's blunt manner of speaking in their weeks apart. "Nothing is lost yet. Kíli and Ruari have gone to speak with Dáin Ironfoot and will return to the city after. Come with me and we can find you some weapons, and food, and when they get back you will be able to greet them as the cherished friends that you are."

A look passed between Suri and Ingolf, the former nodding almost imperceptibly. Ingolf turned back to Tauriel. "Before we do that, we need to show you something."

"Oh. Alright?" Tauriel was a bit taken aback, not having expected that two strangers to the city, travel-worn and starved for both food and rest as they had to be, would have anything to show her, rather than the other way around. But those were Ingolf and Suri, and she would have followed them almost anywhere.

Ingolf stepped aside, so that she could fall into step next to him. Suri came up on her other side, the three of them heading down the way she had come, just minutes ago, with the threat of a follower looming over her. It felt good, being flanked by her friends like this. Even though she had spent the day in the company of more people than she could count—many of them new acquaintances—she had, except for those few moments spent alone with Kíli, felt more lonely than she had in a long time. Now, in the comforting presence of Suri and Ingolf, she was loathe to shatter the brief moment of peace, and yet—

"The fact that you are both here now suggests that you did not succeed in your plan." She glanced at Suri, who was staring straight ahead. "Or did you?"

"That depends on how you look at it," Ingolf answered from her other side, his voice grave. "We set out with the intention to find Suri's sister and. . . well. We know now that she is nowhere to be found, nor ever will be, again."

Tauriel's heart sank. "I'm so sorry," she said, the words seeming terribly inadequate as they passed her lips. She looked at Suri, who continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes deep, dark pools of sadness. Tauriel wished she were a better friend, a better person, someone who knew what to do, what to say, in the face of the grief of someone held dear. But no matter how hard she strained her mind, the right words wouldn't come, and she felt herself stiffen with the realization of her own inadequacy. And then Suri's hand slipped into hers, small, and warm, and dry, and Tauriel let go of a breath she had not realized she was holding.

She returned the pressure of Suri's grip. "If there is anything I can do, anything at all, I will. I cannot undo what has happened, but perhaps I can make it more. . . bearable? I—no, forgive me. That was a silly thing to say, I—"

She broke off when Suri adjusted her hold onto her hand, their fingers now intertwined, palms pressed together. A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of Tauriel's lips. Perhaps she wasn't as bad at this as she had feared. On her other side, Ingolf began to narrate some of the events which had taken place after they had separated north of Riavod, casting surreptitious glances at Suri to determine whether he should keep going or not.

Suri and Ingolf had, as Tauriel now learned, made swift progress after their departure, reaching a larger settlement several miles south of Riavod within the matter of a few days. From there, they had picked up the trail of a convoy of slaves that had been sold to a tribal leader on the southern shore of the sea, the likelihood that Suri's sister might be among those slaves increasing with every piece of the puzzle they managed to put together.

Unfortunately, their search for the convoy did not last very long: They had just left the last signs of civilization behind them when they stumbled upon what was left of the convoy after an attack by another tribe, presumably. Empty, overturned wagons, broken chests and barrels. And bodies. Heaps of dead bodies.

Tauriel swallowed against the taste of bile in her throat. "You are absolutely certain then that there is no hope? That perhaps—"

"Deadly certain," Ingolf cut her off in a tone so hollow that she dropped the matter instantly, pulling Suri's hand through the crook of her arm so that they might walk even closer together.

"After you knew that there was nothing left for you to find in Rhûn, why did you come here, of all places? Why didn't you try to make your way back home instead?"

This time, Tauriel's question was met with a smile from Ingolf and, Tauriel thought, a soft huff of amusement from Suri. "Well, because we knew that the three of you would be here, of course," Ingolf said. His smile turned a little sly. "To be fair, though, the fact that we were able to come, and in time, no less, largely depended on a series of circumstances beyond our control. Luck, some might say."

"And what sort of circumstances would that be?"

"That is what we wanted to show you," Ingolf replied at the same time that Suri tugged Tauriel around a corner and through a narrow archway.

They found themselves in a small square, an irregularly shaped empty space between buildings rather than a purposefully built structure. A fire was burning at the center, the heat reflecting off the surrounding buildings creating a pocket of warmth in the merciless cold of a northern winter. Around the fire, a group of people was huddled close together, their shoulders pressed against one another to preserve even more of the precious warmth.

Confused, Tauriel's eyes skittered around the enclosed space, trying to understand what it was that Ingolf and Suri wanted her to see. Except the one they had just passed through, there seemed to be no other points of access to the square, nor did any of the buildings have doors facing that way. All she could see were those Lake-people, bundled up against the cold as they settled in for yet another uncomfortable night to pass.

Only. . . they weren't Lake-people at all.

One of them lifted their head as Tauriel, flanked by Suri and Ingolf approached, keen green eyes that were the only visible part of a face wrapped in protective layers of wool widening. The person with those strangely familiar eyes nudged the hunched over figure next to them, causing them to turn and look over their shoulder, hood falling back to reveal gleaming dark braids, and that was when everything fell into place.

"Nesrin?"

Tauriel's feet nearly slipped on the frozen cobblestones as she closed the distance between her and the friend she had left behind on the island of Nurtha, in what now almost seemed like another life. And yet it really was Nesrin, the smile which lit up her face crinkling her eyes at the corners and making the scars on her face all but disappear with its brightness.

"Hello, trouble-maker," Nesrin teased.

Upon reaching her, Tauriel grabbed Nesrin by her upper arms, peering into her face up close. "It really is you," she stated, utterly superfluously.

At a chuckle from one of the people gathered around the fire, Tauriel tore her gaze away from Nesrin and looked around. With a start, she realized that several of the faces looking back at her were familiar. Naima. Ingrid. Batu. Oleg and Olov, grinning broadly as if they had succeeded at pulling a particularly elaborate prank on her.

Well, in a way, she supposed, they had.

Some others of the twenty or so people huddled in the square she recognized vaguely from her time on the island, but did not know their names. Others she had never seen before. Feeling more than just a little overwhelmed, she turned back to Nesrin.

"What are you doing here?"

Nesrin's answering smile was genuine, if a little wry. "Someone told me it was time for me to find my own place in this world. This is where I start—standing by those who are in need of defense."

"You mean you have come to fight?" Tauriel could hardly believe her ears. This, from the woman who had been prepared to pledge her allegiance to those whom she knew to be in the wrong because the pain of living in a world that had only ever been cruel to her was too much to bear? And yet, as she cast another look around, she found many pairs of eyes looking back at her with solemn sincerity.

"Well, no offense, but this is hardly the place one seeks out for a vacation," Nesrin quipped.

A surprised snort of laughter made it past Tauriel's lips before she threw her arms around Nesrin's neck and pulled her into a firm embrace. For a second, Nesrin was stiff in her arms, but then she gave a low chuckle and returned the gesture.

"It will be an honor to fight by your side," Tauriel said as she released her friend. Her gaze went to the rest of the group. "As well as anyone else who chose to come all this way."

Several heads were inclined in acceptance of her words.

"It is our understanding, though, that before we get to do some actual fighting there are some other. . . issues that need to be resolved?"

This came from Oleg, who sat up more straightly as many pairs of eyes turned towards him. Oleg had always struck Tauriel as someone whom people looked to naturally for guidance, but who wasn't entirely comfortable with it.

Now, she grimaced at his question. "It is true that there have been some tensions between the leaders of the different fractions currently residing at Dale and Erebor. We hope that by tomorrow those will be settled so that we may all stand together against a much bigger threat looming on the horizon."

To Oleg's right, his brother Olov gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "'S not as if we're not used to being subject to the whims of those more powerful than us. But they won't hold us back. Not for long, at least."

A murmur of assent went through those gathered around. Tauriel quirked an eyebrow and turned to Nesrin again.

"So, Gansukh, he's. . ."

"Still alive, presumably," Nesrin finished for her. "The moment it became clear that what was happening after your departure was not something that could be beat down easily with verbal threats or physical violence, he packed up and ran. Where to, we don't really know." She shrugged. "But to be honest, I do not care. He's dangerous, but in the end, he's just one of many. Wherever he is, he can't hurt us, not here."

Tauriel fervently hoped that her friend was correct in this assessment. Within the short span of less than an hour, several people whom she had left behind in Rhûn had been unexpectedly returned to her. Gansukh, she prayed, would not fall under the same category. "What did happen, then, after Kíli and I left?" she asked.

Nesrin grinned. "We did what we should have done a long time ago and tore the place apart. In the end, there were very few loyal enough to Gansukh to stand against us once we had made up our mind. There isn't much left on that island except for a large pile of rubble."

Infected by her friend's mirth, Tauriel felt the corners of her own mouth lift in a smile. In any other circumstance, the news of the destruction of an estate as beautiful as that on Nurtha would have inspired at least a certain amount of regret—not in this case, though. Nesrin was right, there were many other people and places capable of the same darkness which had been the driving force behind Gansukh's operation. Still, it was a relief to know that on this particular island, no one else would be groomed as a weapon for a war that should not be fought to begin with.

"And after?" she asked. "How did you even know that you would find me here?"

"From these two, of course." Nesrin cut a glance at Suri and Ingolf. "Our associates in Riavod had some horses ready for us and we got out of the city as swiftly as possible. Wasn't long before we ran into your two friends. They were looking for a swift transport north, we were looking for a place to go. Simple as that."

The hard line to Nesrin's jaw as she projected a bright smile suggested that things were anything but simple, and Tauriel would have been genuinely surprised if they had been. During their conversations on the island, Nesrin had shown herself as a person who felt things deeply, and who put a lot of thought into each of her actions. Now she was here, though, and if she claimed that this was where she wanted to be, Tauriel would not argue with her, the fact that with those formidable fighters on their side their chances in the upcoming battle would improve dramatically not being the least of her reasons.

She reached out and clasped a hand on Nesrin's arm. "I am glad you've come. We will need every hand that is willing to help." She glanced at the faces looking back at her. "That goes for all of you. You shouldn't have to spend your night out here, though. I was just on my way to speak to the one they have proclaimed King of Dale. Let me see what other arrangements can be made for you."

Nesrin looked around at her companions, what little was visible of their faces underneath all those layers of clothing showing clear signs of discomfort. She turned back to Tauriel. "Normally my pride would prevent me from accepting your offer, but I fear that the milder climate in Rhûn has made us more susceptible to the tribulations of a winter in the North. Any place that's inside would be better than this, I suppose."

"And food, and blankets," Tauriel insisted. She turned to Suri and Ingolf. "Will you come with me when I seek out Bard? If he knows of a place where they might stay, you can come back for them."

Without hesitation, Suri stepped forward to link their arms together once more while Ingolf came up on her other side. "Hadn't planned to let you out of our sight quite so soon anyway." He looked at Nesrin. "Will you be alright here, for a bit longer?"

"We've had worse. As I believe you know."

Nesrin's raised eyebrow and Ingolf's sheepish smile suggested that there were some tales to be told of their journey north, tales Tauriel was confident she would hear in time. Tonight, though, they had other priorities.

It did not please her to leave Nesrin and the others out here, where tiny snowflakes had begun to swirl through the air, dusting the hard ground. Showing up on Bard's doorstep with two dozen strangers in tow could hardly be beneficial to her goal of having a quiet conversation with him about the intricacies of Dwarven and Elvish relations, though, and so this was how it would have to be. For now.

After a repeated promise that she would do her best to find them better accommodations, she thus said her farewells to Nesrin and the others and followed Suri and Ingolf back into the streets of Dale to finally fulfill her mission of locating the Bowman. This, luckily, did not prove too difficult.

They found him down by the city wall, where he was directing the efforts of a group of men who were trying to install an ancient-looking contraption on the top of the wall. Its purpose seemed to be launching a cascade of arrows at aggressors approaching from below. Not entirely useless, Tauriel judged—if the strange apparatus actually worked, that was.

When the men up on the wall paused in their efforts to stare at the three newcomers, as different from each other in their appearance as three people possibly could be, Bard turned to look at them as well. Throughout the first few moments of somewhat stilted conversation his gaze retained a healthy amount of wariness which only dissipated after Tauriel hinted at the fact that she had not come on her king's orders, but of her own accord.

The tension in his shoulders loosening at least a little bit, Bard smiled rather sheepishly. "Both Thranduil and Gandalf would have liked to keep me up there with them all night long to listen to their arguing. I wasn't certain how much more of that I could take."

Tauriel dipped her head as she smiled sympathetically. She knew that feeling rather well, she thought. "Well, I've not come here to argue with you," she said. "But if I may, I will tell you a little about some of the things that have happened to me in those last few months, about some of the people I have met. And why I still think that there is a way to come out of this with both our lives and our honor intact."

Bard looked at her for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. "Alright, I'll listen. If you'll agree to help me teach those who've never touched a bow in their life to at least shoot an arrow in the right direction. We shan't make archers out of them in one night, but two of us will be able to pass on a lot more knowledge than if it's just me."

Her smile widening into a grin, Tauriel pushed her shoulders back. "It would be my pleasure." Her smile faltered as she glanced at Suri and Ingolf. "There is one thing I need to ask of you first, though. A favor."

Bard's eyebrows rose. "What sort?"

Quickly, she explained about Nesrin and the others having traveled so far to participate in a fight that did not immediately concern them. "They are strong, all of them, and will be invaluable assets when it comes to defending the city. But they have come a long way and are in need of food, and rest, and warmth."

While she spoke, Bard's expression had moved from surprise to intrigue. Now, he was all business as he glanced to where the city rose into the sky above them, his brow furrowed in thought. "We have begun to move those who cannot fight to the citadel already, so finding a bit of space should not cause too much trouble. Will they mind sharing, those friends of yours?"

Tauriel smiled, a strange sense of wistfulness squeezing at her heart as her mind went back to the loft in Gansukh's house, to colorful drapes and the constant presence of other bodies nearby. "I do not expect they will," she said. "In fact, I suspect they would rather stay together than be separated."

Bard studied her intently. "You and the friends you have made on your adventures depend on each other a great deal. I understand, though. Once we have allowed ourselves to get close to someone, we do not like to be apart from them again." Once more, he looked towards the city and sighed. "Which is why my own children are still out here, instead of with the others, where they would be safer. I do not like to let them out of my sight for too long."

He turned to one of his men on the wall. "Arnulf, would you mind taking Tauriel's friends here to one of the houses by the market square? They are reasonably large and should fit the purpose." He glanced at Ingolf and Suri. "If that is alright with you, of course."

Ingolf inclined his head on behalf of both of them. "Perfectly." He glanced at Tauriel. "Will we see you there, later?"

The touch of urgency in his voice did not escape her notice, especially since she experienced it as well. Who knew how much time they had left together—better not let it go to waste. "I will come find you as soon as I am finished here," she thus promised.

"Good. And bring your Dwarf along."

Tauriel rolled her eyes at the tease, delivered with a smirk by Ingolf while beside him Suri's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You've known him longer than I have," she reminded him with a grin of her own. "He's yours as much as he is mine."

Ingolf grimaced. "That is not how that works, I believe."

With laughter on her lips, Tauriel turned away from her two friends to where Bard was already waiting for her, eager to return to his children. Not wanting to delay his plan any longer, Tauriel swiftly fell into step beside him.

" Your Dwarven friend," Bard began after a few steps, "Kíli, he's. . .?"

"Trying to talk some sense into some very thick skulls to make sure that the plans we all agreed on will not be forgotten come morning," Tauriel finished his sentence for him.

"I see. And will the same fate fall to me tonight?"

Tauriel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You strike me as someone who possesses an adequate amount of sense already."

"Adequate, hm?" Bard arched his eyebrows, but Tauriel could tell he wasn't truly offended by her choice of words. In fact, he did not at all seem like someone who easily took insult from remarks people threw his way, no matter what they said.

Instead of an unnecessary apology, she thus began to divulge a little more of the trials both she and Kíli had had to face in the more recent past while they walked back to the armory, where, presumably, Bard's children were waiting for him. With her narration, she took particular care to do the sacrifices Kíli had made and the challenges he had overcome on their shared journey justice. Bard was a cunning man, and he probably saw through her endeavor rather easily. Still, he listened both patiently and attentively, asking insightful questions wherever her own memory skipped past events too quickly.

"Your Kíli, he sounds like an honorable, honest person. Someone who would lay down his life for those he cares about," Bard said when her story had reached the point where their paths had converged, just this morning, outside of the gates of Erebor.

They had entered the armory by then and, assured by the sight of Bard's two younger children helping with some easy, not too dangerous tasks, had sought a quiet place for themselves where Tauriel could finish her account of their journey. At Bard's final statement and the sidelong glance he threw at her, she felt her face grow warm, but resisted the impulse to squirm in her seat.

"He is," she said instead, "and so are many of the other Dwarves I have encountered over the last few months. Bilbo was right when he summarized some of their shortcomings, earlier, but he was equally if not more so right when he spoke of their strengths. Which is why I am certain that if you just give them the chance to join your side, you will win the strongest allies you could possibly wish for."

Bard sighed. "I do not doubt the truth of what you are saying. And yet your king's reasoning also holds its own merit. As leaders, we have to keep the interests of our people in mind. Without what Oakenshield owes us, where will we go from here?"

"It is not the interest of his people that drives Thranduil's actions, but his own," Tauriel said with more severity than she had intended to. Swiftly, she reined in her temper—out of everyone, Bard had to be the least deserving of being lashed out at. "If the battle we are currently standing on the brink of is truly as terrible as we suspect, there will be nowhere to go for your people with or without Thorin's gold," she reminded him more gently.

"I know, I know." Bard was looking at his hands, hands that looked like those of a much older man from years and years of hard labor in harsh conditions. He glanced up at her. "I have given my word to allow Thorin more time to make up his mind and I intend to stay true to that. Even—," he held up his hand when she made to interrupt him, "—even in the event that you should not be the last member of your kind to pay me a visit tonight."

She ducked her head to hide her sheepish smile. It wasn't unlikely that Thranduil might seek out Bard again to conspire with him against the Dwarves, and thus reassuring to know that Bard had already braced himself for the possibility. "Then that is all I can ask," she said.

Bard's youngest child, a little girl with large, curious eyes and the sort of twinkle in them that suggested she could be quite a handful at times, came over then to sit in her father's lap. He tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder with a practiced ease that caused a long-neglected part of Tauriel's heart to twinge with envy.

"Where's Sigrid?" Bard muttered against the crown of his daughter's head. "You ought to have been in bed hours ago. I know you want to help, but you can't if you fall asleep on your feet."

The girl giggled. "Silly Da. That would never happen to me. Sleeping while standing up would be so uncomfortable! Anyway, here comes Sigrid."

And indeed, the young woman Tauriel had met at the tavern was making her way over to them, gathering her skirts up against her hip to avoid stepping on the piles of weapons and other items scattered all over the large space. Tauriel directed a hesitant smile at her, unsure whether Sigrid would want her father to become aware of their—albeit fleeting—acquaintance and her somewhat puzzling connection to Kíli's older brother.

Upon finding Tauriel with her father and little sister, Sigrid visibly started, but recovered quickly enough for anyone who wasn't looking for a reaction from her to miss it. Still, the fact that Sigrid's eyes did a quick assessment of their surroundings to see whether any other members of their party from the tavern were present did not escape Tauriel.

Deciding to spare Sigrid the awkwardness of having to explain to her father where exactly (and in whose company) they had met before, Tauriel inclined her head. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said. "I'm Tauriel of the Woodland Realm."

Her small white lie was rewarded with a loosening of the tension in Sigrid's shoulders as she, too, lowered her head in greeting. "Sigrid, of—er, Lake-town. Or Dale now, I suppose." With a bit of color high in her cheeks, she turned to Bard and her sister. "Tilda, I've found us a place to sleep for the night. It's not too far, just across the street, and perfectly safe."

That last part was directed at Bard, who now smiled gratefully at his oldest daughter, before glancing down at Tilda, still in his lap. "You hear that? Time for bed now."

But Tilda shook her head, her small fists tightening in the fabric of her father's shirt. "Only if you come, too."

A guilty expression crossed Bard's face.

"Tilda, leave Da to do the things he must do," Sigrid admonished at the same time that Tauriel turned to Bard and said,

"Go with your children. Show me what you want done about the archers and I will see to it while you are gone."

Three pairs of eyes looked back at her, Sigrid's and Bard's filled with surprise while Tilda's merely blinked sleepily for the most part.

"Are you quite certain?" Bard gestured at the clusters of men and women laboring around them. "Those people are not your responsibility. And I would be lying if I claimed that they cannot at times be just as prone to bouts of extreme stubbornness as our Dwarven friends."

"And yet helping them in this time of need is precisely why I've come," Tauriel returned. "So I might as well get on with it."

She felt that Bard might have continued to argue with her, but the hopefulness in Tilda's and even Sigrid's eyes were probably what made him accept the offer without further protest. And so, after being introduced to Ragnar, who was Bard's second in command when it came to getting the Lake-people ready for the dawning fight, she found herself in charge of a group of men (some of them young enough to be barely more than boys), few of which had ever done more than launch an arrow at a practice-target, and an assortment of bows and arrows in varying stages of disrepair.

Well. She had asked for a task, and now she had one. This, at least, should keep her mind from worrying over where Kíli was, what he was doing, and whether he would really find his way back to her tonight as he had promised.

A/N: Chapter title inspired by "Northern Sky" by Nick Drake.