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.

34. (You Are) Everything

34: (You Are) Everything

"That's it. Exhale all the way, then release. No, don't close your eyes when you do, or you'll—"

The arrow missed the wooden beam it had been aimed at, ricocheting off the wall behind it with a loud snap that suggested it would not fly again anytime soon. Tauriel lightly touched the archer's shoulder. "It's alright, Ulf. Take a break, then try again. Next time, your arrow will find its target."

If she was completely honest, she did not believe that the likelihood of that happening was very big. However, they had already come a long way—just an hour ago, Ulf had barely been able to nock an arrow without letting it fly in a random, not always safe direction. Just a little more training and confidence, and he would make a passable archer. As long as his opponents weren't moving too fast, that was.

"He won't be hitting any targets with that sloppy stance. No shot can ever become a good shot without proper footing."

Warmth coursed up Tauriel's spine as she turned to find Kíli behind her, his eyes tracking the slumped form of Ulf where he slouched towards the shadows to get some rest. Kíli looked even more tired than when she had last seen him, but otherwise whole and unharmed. Had they been alone, she would have expressed her relief over that fact with a proper embrace. As it was, she settled for lightly entwining their fingers between their bodies.

"Don't let Ulf hear you say that," she admonished gently. "His lack of faith in himself is his biggest obstacle." She looked around at the haggard faces of the men still engaged in their target practice, and permitted herself a low sigh. "That goes for most of them, I'm afraid."

Kíli, too, took in the scene in front of him. "They're tired—just a few days ago, they lost their homes and now they find themselves on the brink of a war. Can you blame them for being in low spirits?"

"No, I cannot. But I think even if they were told to rest now, few of them would be able to find peace." Just then, one of the older men launched an arrow and managed to strike his target. A little off-center, but a hit nonetheless. Tauriel sent him an encouraging smile when she caught his gaze. "What do you think," she asked Kíli, "will they stand a chance in whatever might await them tomorrow."

"They just might. Their chances will be infinitely better, though, if both Thranduil and Dáin stay true to their word and fight beside them. On their own, and without many experienced fighters among them, defending the city would be a difficult undertaking at best."

Tauriel hummed in agreement before she remembered a little detail Kíli did not know yet. Excitement pooled inside her belly. "Oh, but they won't be entirely on their own either way."

"What do you mean?"

Kíli's puzzled frown made it difficult to resist spilling her secret right then and there, but she forced herself to hold on a little longer. "I will show you in a little while. As soon as Bard returns."

He jerked his head over his shoulder. "He's right outside, unloading a cart full of weapons some of his men found in an old cellar or something. I left Ruari with them to help."

At the news that the last member of their group had also returned to Dale for the night, Tauriel's smile widened. "Let's go find them, then."

One last time, she looked at her pupils, most of whom had settled down on overturned crates and empty barrels and were talking quietly among themselves. She had done what she could—and if that wasn't enough and the city should be overrun by an army of Orcs in the days to come, it would neither be her fault nor that of those brave Lake-people, each of them formidable in their own way.

She let Kíli tug her outside, where the night seemed a little blacker and colder still than when she had come here in Bard's company. As expected, the Bowman and Ruari were easily located next to a pile of weapons which looked worse for wear for the most part. Still—a dented shield was better than no shield at all and dull blades might yet be sharpened.

Tauriel smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner as she approached Bard. "What your men lack in experience, they certainly make up for in tenacity," she informed him.

Bard brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead and gazed over her shoulder towards the armory with a doubtful frown. "You really think so?"

"I do." Her earnestness she did not have to affect. "In time, they will become great fighters."

"In time, perhaps. Will they be ready when the sun rises, though?"

He looked at the sky as if expecting to already discover a streak of gray on the horizon. Tauriel shuddered. The night had been long and eventful already, and yet she did not want it to end with a desperation which surprised her.

"If they are not by now, then working themselves ragged for the remainder of the night is not going to change it. They will not stop if I tell them to—but perhaps a last round of training with you will put them at ease enough to allow them to get some semblance of rest."

Bard's gaze as he looked towards the armory again was gentle, if a bit wary. He loved his people, that much was clear.

"Thank you for everything you've done tonight," he said, turning back to Tauriel. His eyes flickered to Kíli beside her. "I assume you are ready to retire? Big house, just off the market square. Green shutters. Can't really miss it."

Tauriel felt Kíli's curious gaze, but refused to acknowledge it, afraid of spoiling the surprise. "We are much obliged to you for your hospitality," she said to Bard, hoping that he would catch the dimensions of her gratefulness without giving away what awaited them at the house on the market square. To Ruari she added, "There is space there for you as well. You have been on your feet going back and forth between Dale and Dáin's camp all day."

"An' I'll stay on my feet a little longer still," he groused. "Got no particular desire of shacking up under one roof with you two lovebirds."

Bard appeared in equal measures amused by the mortified blush which crept into Tauriel's cheeks as by the combative stance with which the two Dwarves were facing each other. "I think perhaps you ought to go with them after all," he said to Ruari with a barely suppressed chuckle. "I'll have someone else haul those weapons inside. Those that might be of any use still, anyway."

Ruari narrowed his eyes, misunderstanding Bard's veiled comment completely. "Fine then. I know when I'm not wanted," he said loftily and stalked off in the direction of the city center.

If anything, Bard looked even more entertained by this uncalled-for reaction. His lips twitching, he bowed his head at Kíli and Tauriel. "You should go after him before he finds one of those taverns that seem to be springing up like weeds around here. Have a good night."

"Until morning, then." Tauriel, too, gave a swift bow and tugged Kíli away by his sleeve before he could ask any of the questions that no doubt lingered on his tongue.

"What on earth was that about?"

They were weaving through the narrow alleys after Ruari, who was setting up a stubborn pace, when Kíli finally voiced his confusion. Tauriel linked her arm through his.

"You'll see in a minute."

As Bard had promised, the house on the market square wasn't difficult to find. Squashed between other, taller buildings that must once have been grand but, in their dilapidated state, exuded an air of coldness and neglect, the green shutters and simple structure made it look almost welcoming. The fact that several of the windows were illuminated by soft, orange light even strengthened that effect.

Ruari had stopped his strut and was gazing up at the house with a deep frown on his forehead. "Bard's been playing us for fools, then. This house seems already taken."

Before Tauriel had a chance to correct him, the sturdy wooden door underneath a small, tiled awning was thrown open and Suri burst through, followed by a broadly grinning Ingolf.

"Durin's balls."

For once, Ruari had nothing else to say as their two friends rushed down to greet them with smiles so bright that for a moment it became easy to forget about the sinister reason that had brought them all here together. Kíli, too, was laughing like the young, carefree Dwarf Tauriel sometimes glimpsed underneath the earnestness which the weight of the responsibilities on his shoulders often demanded of him.

"You knew they would be here?" he asked her.

"Of course I did." She lowered her head and cast him a sideways glance. "I would not truly have insisted for Ruari to accompany us if I had assumed it was just going to be you and me. I believe we have long moved beyond the need for a chaperone."

Kíli's grin widened with the implications of her words. "Indeed," he said. "And while that fact that I won't have you to myself inspires a fair bit of remorse, I must say that this surprise does make up for it."

He crossed over to their friends and clasped a firm hand on Ingolf's forearm (the Rohir's shoulder being out of his reach) before enveloping Suri in a brief but firm embrace.

"Oh, but this isn't all of it."

Tauriel angled her head towards the door, where Nesrin, flanked by Naima and Ingrid, had just stepped into view. Olev and Oleg followed closely behind, all of them more hesitant in their demeanor than Ingolf and Suri, but still smiling broadly.

Kíli gaped at them. "I don't understand. This is—what are they doing here?"

"It seems that our escape has made more of an impression than we were aware of at the time." Tauriel followed her words with a shrug and a helpless smile. She didn't entirely understand it either, but the more recent past had taught her that not all the actions of those one was lucky enough to call friends had to hold up to a firm, logical examination. Sometimes people just did things because they cared. Even if those things ended up being quite dangerous.

Kíli must have come to the same conclusion, and his puzzled frown was swiftly replaced by a broad grin. After a lot of handshakes, shoulder clasps, and a particularly enthusiastic slap on the back from Oleg that almost sent Kíli sprawling onto the snow-dusted ground, everyone filed into the house, leaving the cold night outside the heavy wooden door.

Inside, the house was much what one might expect of a building that had survived decades in an abandoned city. A city that had known the wrath of a dragon before its inhabitants had deserted it. The furnishings were sparse and partly rotten, those windows that had been destroyed crudely boarded up to keep out the worst of the weather. What was intact of the house's interior was clean, though, probably a circumstance they owed to the Lake-people who had stayed here before being moved to the citadel. Even more important than cleanliness, however, was the fact that it was warm. A fire crackled cheerfully in a large, open fireplace, a mismatched assortment of sitting accommodations scattered in front of it.

Without needing to discuss it, everyone moved to one of the seats, leaving space on a low, slightly moth-eaten divan for the newcomers. Tauriel gladly sank onto the surprisingly comfortable piece of furniture, realizing only now how deep-seated the weariness inside her every bone, her every joint really was. Kíli made himself comfortable next to her, the warmth where their thighs and shoulders brushed against each other an additional comfort. Ruari elected to sit on a cushion on the floor with his back resting against the divan just beside Tauriel's knee while Ingolf and Suri shared an armchair on Kíli's right with Suri perched on the armrest, her hand on Ingolf's shoulder to keep her steady.

A sudden rush of happiness clogged Tauriel's throat. Here they were, all of them together again and, as of yet, safe. It would have been all too easy to allow herself to be swept up by the feeling, to pretend that they had simply come together for a strange, unexpected reunion. But, alas, she could not permit herself that luxury.

Instead, she slowly looked about the room, meeting the gazes of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, their expressions ranging from wary, to curious, to expectant.

"Tomorrow at dawn, the armies of Mirkwood, Dale, and the Iron Hills will gather before the gates of Erebor to persuade the King under the Mountain to end his barricade and do his share to alleviate the misery the events of the more recent past have caused. We have reason to believe that a great army of foes will be upon us soon, and hope to convince Thorin Oakenshield to fight alongside us, rather than against us," she said.

"And does this plan of yours have a chance of succeeding?" Like most pairs of eyes, Naima's were resting on Tauriel attentively, their dark depths not giving away much of what she was feeling.

Tauriel laced her fingers together in her lap to prevent them from trembling. She was unused to speaking in front of such a large group of people, except for barking orders in her role as a captain in Thranduil's guard. "I believe they do, yes."

Kíli, perhaps sensing her discomfort, jumped in. "Certain. . . incitements have been put into place to increase the likelihood of that happening."

Naima transferred her hard gaze onto him. "That all sounds rather vague."

Turning up his palms, Kíli shrugged. "You're right. Still, just a few hours ago it looked as if the parties involved might go to war against one another as soon as the sun rises tomorrow. At least we got them to agree to stand down for a little longer."

"And will they stay true to their word?" This came from Nesrin, who sat at the center of the group from Riavod, those around her gravitating towards her like she was a natural force all on her own.

"I've just returned from Dáin Ironfoot's camp, and am quite confident that the Dwarves of the Iron Hills will not attack anyone unless they are left with no other choice."

Tauriel caught Kíli's gaze and nodded, signaling that she was alright to take over once more. "The king of Dale has no desire for conflict," she said. "If there is a way to end this peacefully, he will take it. Also, he is not one to go back on his word." She paused, unwilling to speak the words lingering on her tongue but knowing that she must. She owed those people the full truth of what they had walked into at the very least. And so, staring at her own hands, she went on. "It is my own kind, I'm afraid, that constitutes the greatest factor of uncertainty in this whole scheme. King Thranduil, he. . . he has not the best of histories with the Dwarves of Erebor. He will not break a vow he has made, but he will seek for loopholes to achieve his own, private goals more quickly." She lifted her head to meet the eyes of those she felt connected to the most—Ingolf. Suri. Nesrin. "I am sorry that this is all rather tenuous at best and that I cannot present you with a more sophisticated plan of action."

"'S not your fault," Ingolf murmured from her left.

Nesrin's gaze, meanwhile, remained sharp. "And what happens if your plan fails?"

Tauriel swallowed. "Then you all might find yourself in the middle of a mess you have had no hand in creating. I would not expect you to choose a side."

"In all our time in Rhûn we were groomed to fight for a master we held no loyalty for in a war that wasn't out doing," Oleg said slowly, thoughtfully. "That's what we ran away from." He glanced at Batu, and some of the faces unfamiliar to Tauriel, people who had not been part of the group in Gansukh's loft. "Most of us, at least."

A murmur of assent went through the group from Riavod, and Tauriel's stomach clenched. It wasn't her fault, she knew, what their leaders were doing, but still she felt as if she had failed the trust those people had put in her, in Kíli, in their shared cause.

Nesrin rose, looking around at those gathered around her. "It won't be the same, though. We came here of our own choice. Whatever happens next, will be our own choice as well. No more masters. No more fighting unless we believe it is for the right cause." She looked at Tauriel. "I'm on your side. Whatever those who call themselves kings, and lords, and whatnot do or don't do no longer impacts my actions."

Tauriel nodded mutely, overcome by this unexpected display of loyalty from a woman she barely knew. Around Nesrin, those who had followed her from Riavod remained seated, no one rising to join the woman in her pledge. The tension in the room, however, had eased, the doubt lingering on many faces replaced by the same easy assuredness Tauriel had observed earlier. They had come to fight, and fight they would. That Tauriel herself did not even know where she would stand should the conflict at the gates of Erebor escalate into a fight between her own people and Kíli's kin did not seem to make a difference.

She cleared her throat and nodded. "Alright, we shall see what the morning brings, then. In the meantime, we should all try to get some rest, I believe."

With nothing more to say at the moment, the room broke up into smaller groups, some of them lost in quiet conversation while others made themselves comfortable for the night. It seemed that most of them intended to remain right where they were, huddled in front of the fire. Well, Tauriel could not fault them for wanting to stay close together with the uncertainty of tomorrow looming on the horizon. Still, she found herself longing for a bit of privacy after spending most of her day under watchful, not always friendly eyes.

Next to her, Kíli was talking to Ingolf and Suri about their journey to Dale, but as she shifted beside him, he caught her hand in the small space between them and squeezed.

"It's a big house," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "There must be other rooms that are inhabitable aside from this one."

Ingolf chuckled, but, to Tauriel's eternal gratefulness, refrained from making any remarks on the fact that her cheeks had grown quite warm at Kíli's words. "There are," he said. "Most of the rooms on the first and second floor are completely barren, but Suri and I found a little chamber with two almost comfortable beds up under the roof. Probably some sort of servants' quarters, once upon a time. There's another one just like it down the hall, if you find yourselves in need of it."

Despite Ingolf's insinuating tone, Kíli kept a perfectly straight face as he tilted his head. "That sounds adequate."

His thumb, meanwhile, was tracing a soft, circular pattern against the inside of Tauriel's wrist that had her squirming in her seat. Would it be very impolite to head up to that chamber right away, when they had not seen Ingolf, Suri, or any of the others for weeks? And didn't it make her a horrible person indeed to be paying any heed to those. . . demands her body was making of her when they did not even know what tomorrow would bring and if, perhaps, this would be the last night they would all get to spend together? Then again, those weeks on the road had been very long, and tiring, and, aside from their very brief stay in Hammerstead, had yielded very little in terms of privacy. . .

Surprisingly, it was Ruari who provided the solution to this latest dilemma. "If you two don't stop casting longing looks at each other and get your arses up there right now, I will be claiming that bloody chamber for myself. Mahal knows I deserve a proper bed after the tribulations I've already subjected myself to on your account."

"Well, you could take one of the beds," Tauriel felt compelled to reply by the accusatory tone of Ruari's statement, which promptly earned her a kick against the side of her ankle from Kíli.

Ruari glowered up at them from his spot on the floor. "That you even pretend to believe that this is something I would consider insults me deeply."

By that time, Suri and Ingolf were positively shaking with suppressed laughter. Kíli, too, was pressing his lips together in an effort to stay serious. He gave a tug on Tauriel's wrist. "Come on then. I do know how to take a hint. Besides, I am quite tired."

"Tired my arse," Ingolf muttered into his beard, but managed a genial smile as they rose. "We'll see you—" he glanced over his shoulder at what little was visible of the sky through one of the intact windows, "in a few hours, I suppose."

Tauriel's heart sank a little as she acknowledged what little of the night was left before they would all have to face the day that might change everything. The feeling must have shown on her face, somewhat, for she and Kíli made it out of the room without further ribbing from their companions, the gap they had left behind on the settee closed quickly by Ruari, who sprawled shamelessly in front of the warm fire.

They climbed the stairs in silence, the house cold and dark around them. As Ingolf had promised, there were two chambers under the eaves of the roof, an axe that looked like something Ingolf would choose as a weapon leaning against the doorframe of one of them. With a shrug, Kíli turned to open the door to the other one.

The small room smelled of dust, and damp straw, and would have been completely dark had it not been for a small hole in the roof through which a small amount of moonlight glittered off tiny snowflakes as they slowly descended towards the uneven, wooden floor. In the darkness and utter silence, it felt as if they were floating far above the rest of the world, just the two of them. It could, for all its shortcomings, not have been more perfect.

With a sigh she had been holding inside of her since they had left their friends downstairs, Tauriel crossed over to the tiny, soot-smeared window at the far end of the room and tugged down her sleeve until she was able to wipe the glass clean enough to gaze outside at the city of Dale sleepily blinking up at them from below.

Kíli came up behind her and encircled her waist with one arm, using the other to brush her hair over one shoulder and press a kiss to the back of her neck before dropping his forehead against her shoulder and staying there.

She covered the hand splayed across her stomach with both of her own. "How are you? Really"

He huffed a quiet laugh at the simplicity of her question, and yet it was the only thing she cared to know. "Tired," he said. "Overwhelmed. Utterly out of my depth. And yet—and this probably makes me a horribly selfish person—also happy. Happy that I got to see my brother again. Happy that our friends are downstairs. Happy that you are still at my side, despite everything."

She turned around in his embrace. "And I'll remain at your side, no matter what. I thought we had established that a good while ago."

"We did not know what we would be walking into, back then, though." He cocked his head, his eyes dark and intent in what little light filtered into the room. "You know a little more of what it means to be dealing with Dwarves, now. Still time to change your mind."

She smiled wryly, thinking of how challenging her own kind could be as well. Still, her reply came with conviction. "Never."

"Good." Kíli grinned, but then dropped his gaze unexpectedly, looking at his own fingers where they had begun to toy with the tips of her hair. Even in the absence of proper lighting, Tauriel could tell that color had risen into his cheeks. Several moments passed before he spoke again. "When all this is over, I want to do things the proper way. Not hide what you and I are to each other from anyone."

"Is that what we have been doing?" Tauriel could not suppress a chuckle as she thought of Fíli's easy acceptance of their bond, Bard's shrewd comments, and even her own king's open disapproval. "If so, I'm afraid we have been doing a rather terrible job at it."

"Aye, I see your point." Kíli huffed out a laugh as he tipped his head forward to rest it against her collarbone, his breath a welcome plume of warmth even through the layers of her clothing. When he looked back up at her, though, all traces of mirth had been wiped from his face. Tauriel felt her throat tighten in anticipation of. . . something. "What I meant by doing things the proper way," he said, "was doing them the official way."

Tauriel cocked her head to one side and smiled, despite the fierce pounding of her heart against her ribs. "You mean marriage?"

Kíli pressed closer to her, his eyes boring into hers, a trace of vulnerability in them as he swallowed convulsively. "If you'll have me."

"If I'll—" She exhaled through her nose, willing her heart to cease its frantic dance. "I'm not even sure if there truly is a way for us to do this in any manner that could be deemed as official either by your people or mine. Much less both."

She wanted to break their gaze, dismayed at the hint of bitterness that had found its way into her voice, but Kíli wouldn't let her, his hand cupping her jaw tenderly to hold her in place. "If there is a way, then if there is anyone who could find it, it's you and me. If we both want to. I know I do, more than anything."

That hint of something vulnerable again, something delicate that might yet be broken. Tauriel leaned into his touch against her cheek. "So do I. You must know that."

His smile was a thing of relief and the purest of joys. "I do, now." He stretched up to press his lips to hers, chastely at first, but it had been a long time since they last got to do this, and so it was only a matter of seconds before their kiss deepened, breaths mingling in the chilly air inside the room.

The wall beside the small window was just high enough for Tauriel to lean against, and she did so gladly, pulling Kíli with her so that the full length of his body was pressed against hers, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. He sighed into her mouth at the increased amount of contact, his sigh turning into a somewhat strangled groan when she lifted a leg to wrap around his hips. Not breaking their kiss, he moved against her, tilting his hips, and she met him thrust for thrust as sparks of arousal began to travel outward from her core, turning her legs into jelly and sending pleasurable shivers down her spine.

Between the two of them, there were decidedly too many clothes on their bodies.

With fingers that were a little stiff from the cold in the room, she pushed his coat down his shoulders, grateful now that they had left the bulkier parts of their armor downstairs. Still, ridding themselves of the various layers constituted by shirts, tunics, undershirts, and, most grievously, chainmail, took far longer than Tauriel would have liked, and so it was with a happy sigh that she molded herself to Kíli's body when finally—finally!—skin could touch upon skin without any barriers between.

The feeling of having him in her arms again, of tasting him on her tongue, the scent that was so uniquely his enough to block out the not entirely welcoming smell of their quarters, made her want to have all of him, at once, to be one with him, now and for all eternity. For this moment, at least, he was everything. Perhaps sensing her peculiar desire, Kíli pressed even closer to her even as his hand slid around her waist to dip between her legs, his strong fingers easily parting her to rub maddening circles against flesh that was already quivering with her need for him.

"More," she managed against his lips and gasped when he swiftly complied with her wish, first one, then two fingers breaching her. Again, she wrapped a leg around his waist, her hips tilting forward to meet each of the languid thrusts he was performing with his hand.

A devilish grin spread across his face when a change in angle caused her rhythm to stutter. "You like that, hm?"

With the arm she had looped around his shoulders, she drew him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "I can think of something I would like even better," she said when they broke apart, and was gratified when her suggestive tone caused his movements to falter, his pupils blown wide as he regarded her in the silvery light.

He recovered quickly, though, and gave a low chuckle that went straight to her core. "Not yet," he breathed against the side of her neck as he leaned closer and continued to pump in and out of her with his fingers. "First I want to watch you come undone for me."

Well. Tauriel swallowed against a suddenly very dry throat. There was no way she was going to argue against that.

And so she let him pick her apart, bit by glorious bit, riding on the waves of her pleasure until finally they crested, swallowing her under as she spasmed around Kíli's fingers, his name a breathless sigh on her lips. And even then he continued to stroke her, gently now, each touch sending small aftershocks through her body that she could feel in the very tips of her fingers.

His own breathing came a little harsh as he rested his forehead against her collarbone, his gaze drifting down to where his fingers were still buried inside her. "Is it too much if I—"

"No," she cut him off and urged him closer with her heel pressed against his lower spine, her fingers digging a little more firmly into his shoulders as she lifted herself off the floor, her weight now supported by his body at her front and the rough wall at her back. "I want you to give me everything," she said, voicing her own thoughts from before.

"Ah, my love," Kíli sighed as he settled himself against her entrance, pushing upward in a single, swift motion that caused stars to explode behind Tauriel's closed eyelids.

"Yes, just like that." Small utterances of encouragement flowed from her lips as she gathered him close, trying her best to meet each of his thrusts—first deep and slow, then, quickly, faster and more urgent—to meet with her hips.

It was both too soon and not soon enough that a familiar tension coiled low inside of her, and she was both startled and yet not surprised at all when, only a short time after he had given her such pleasure, her muscles contracted around him once again, pulling them both over the edge and into blissful oblivion.

Kíli's knees had given out at some point, and when Tauriel came back to her senses, they were tangled in a less than graceful heap on the cold, dusty floor, he on his knees with her still straddling his lap.

"Sorry 'bout that," Kíli mumbled dazedly as he reached up to pluck a cobweb from her hair that must have gotten tangled there on her journey down the wall.

"You shall not hear a complaint from me." She ducked her head to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "We might want to move to one of those beds, though." She eyed the one closest to them skeptically, the bits of straw peeking out from underneath a ratty blanket not looking particularly inviting. "You need your rest and you won't find it here, on the floor."

"In a minute," Kíli said, his arms squeezing her gently where they were still looped around her waist. "Just—"

He did not finish his thought and he did not have to. If things went horribly, irrevocably wrong, this might be the last time they got to be together like this—or in any capacity, for that matter. Fate, cruel as she could be, would not care about a promise made between two outcasts up here, in this little hideout they had found for themselves. Tomorrow might not only end in chaos and destruction, but also in death, and Tauriel had never been as keenly aware of the fragility of what she and Kíli had made between them as when she, too, gathered him close, felt his heart beat against her chest, in perfect tune with her own.

If worse came to worst, this was all they were ever going to have.