Tauriel's POV:
"I asked for his permission to pledge myself to you, Tauriel."
Tauriel thought perhaps she'd hit her head on the way to her chamber.
Yes, she was certain that she had. Or even that she'd slipped from the walkway and slammed into the ground far below, and this was all but a pain-induced dream.
Or, maybe he had partaken too freely of the wine at the feast, or perhaps he mistook her for another in the soft light of the chamber. Anything seemed more plausible than what he'd just declared.
Anything but -
"Tauriel?" Legolas murmured, moving closer. His pale, soft hands reached out and grabbed her own, and Tauriel hated herself for automatically comparing them to the tanned, calloused ones of Kíli.
She shook her head slowly. "I did not think your father would permit you to pledge yourself to a lowly Silvan elf."
Legolas came even closer, until his forehead was pressed against hers. "He does not rule my heart, Tauriel. I told him as much and he relented."
The room, with its high vaulted ceiling and vast interior, felt too small. She swore the very air around her seemed to have vanished, leaving her with nothing but Legolas to breathe in.
And she did not want him to be her air.
"Tell me how you feel, Tauriel."
Words failed her. She knew Legolas as well as she knew herself. His question was not a demand, but an invitation—a gentle plea for honesty. And if she were to tell him the truth, he would accept it instantly without a word of reproach.
But he had already spoken with his father, and King Thranduil's pride would not allow him to accept anything other than what he'd conceded to. She knew, in her King's mind, she'd been promised to Legolas the minute he said she could be.
Tauriel would later wonder if the gods themselves had saved her in that moment. Had given her a reprieve from destroying either herself or Legolas. For, just as she'd opened her mouth to respond, the hallway outside her room exploded with commotion.
"The prisoners have escaped!"
Kíli's POV:
It was a masterful plan from the hobbit, in Kíli's opinion. Even if it meant barreling down a river in a literal barrel.
"We've got the gate ahead of us!" Thorin shouted from ahead. "Be prepared to fight."
The dwarves all glanced at each other in unease. If it came to a fight, they would be up against trained Woodland elves, without a weapon to defend themselves.
Kíli wondered if the elves would slaughter them all for escaping, or simply stick them back in their cells.
And he hated himself for hoping for the latter.
Even as they approached the gate and looked up to see the armed elves standing watch, Kíli could not help himself from scanning each of them in the hopes of seeing a flash of the fiery hair.
And when the gate shut before they could pass through, and his fellow dwarves all yelled out in frustration, Kíli stayed silent, searching even then for a glimpse of her.
She appeared mere seconds later on the edge of the riverbank, as though he'd spoken her into existence.
Tauriel. The only god he felt like worshiping in that moment.
But he had only a moment to appreciate the gift before further chaos erupted around him.
The orcs had found them.
A seemingly endless avalanche of orcs started to pour over the sides of the walls around the gate.
And they were sitting ducks in those barrels.
"Get under the bridge!" Thorin shouted at them, seeming to want them to hide for cover while the elves handled the fight around them.
Kíli knew it would not be so simple.
There were too many orcs and the elves had been caught off guard. And even if the elves managed to fend them off, and he grudgingly accepted that they could, Tauriel might not survive it.
The lever to open the gate was up and to the left of him, and a thought crossed his mind. A reckless, idiotic, and love-fueled idea.
Without pausing to think it through, Kíli lifted himself out of the barrel and hopped along the edges of the other barrels until he reached solid ground.
And an orc was already rushing at him.
"Kíli, catch!" He heard Fili shout from behind him.
Without turning, he raised a hand into the air, caught the orc weapon that Fili had tossed him, and slammed it into the orc's body. He then used the makeshift orc kabob to knock over another orc to his right, grinning as the orc went flying into the end of another orc's outstretched weapon.
Killing orcs was quickly becoming a favorite pastime of his.
A glance back showed him that the orcs had made their way into the water, and were attacking the dwarves now too. If he was going to save them, he had to do it quickly.
Kíli battled his way further and further, trying to reach the lever against the barge of orcs. He ducked and twisted and sliced and shoved. Over and over and over again. And when the lever was a hair's reach from the tips of his fingers, he felt a jolt of pain in his leg.
He staggered back and looked down at the arrow protruding from his thigh.
"Kíli!" He heard his brother scream from somewhere below, but he could not focus beyond the pain now stretching across his entire body. It was not a normal arrow, this much he knew.
"Kíli!" He heard again. Though this time a higher, more feminine voice. And much closer to him.
Tauriel.
