A/N: Thank you for your patience, dearest readers, real life just imposed itself on me yesterday and I was unable to post. I hope you all like these two sisters and one stubborn dwarf shenanigans enough to keep on reading! I love to hear from you, every little review lends me stamina to carry on!

-xxx-xxx-xxx-

Kíli left the sound of the banging door behind him and stole away with heavy steps. The thought of Thorin considering buying him with a crown…

To Mordor if it was a mithril decorated crown, or if with the crown came the legitimation of his rulership on the Blue Mountains! It was buying a part of him that had no price, and never would.

Brooding on these thoughts and wandering aimlessly, it took not long to notice he was not anymore in any part of Erebor known to him. Actually, this was not very hard, as he never spent long time there. A realm that inhabited his dreams since his childhood held nothing but the memory of his short-lived love story, and it hurt.

Knowing to walk back would eventually lead to some inhabited place, he let himself slide down the wall and sit comfortably on the floor. The coldness of the stone at his back felt good, refreshing, and the silence quieted his troubled mind. Everything summed up, there was no reason to hurry back.

There was nothing to hurry back to.

There was no one to hurry back to.

Thorin, his very uncle… more than a father to him… That was treason, he could only feel betrayed. Thorin knew how he felt about wedding, he knew his decision, how could he…

"You don't know the pressure that's on him."

Kíli resisted the urge to look around for the source of the voice. Tauriel would not be there, not even as a ghost. He would be glad if he had a ghost to talk to, some kind of image of her to comfort him, but after the first years he got used to have her voice like a whisper out of nowhere, or her fleeting smile in a dream, and nothing more.

For all he knew, it was more than any widower used to have.

Counting his blessings, he buried his face in his hands, breathed deep to calm down and make a decision level-headed. Or whatever level-headedness he could muster after being betrayed by his kin. He would not bargain his heart for a crown.

Why didn't his mother warn him about this? Was she aware at all? What would she do in his place? Dís was his anchor at Blue Mountains' ruling, patient and firm in her guidance. He wasn't willing to run back to the Royal Wing, too risky to find or be found by Thorin or any other that agreed with him.

And Fíli? Was he a part of the dirty plan, too? It was hard to believe, but his big brother had become closer to Thorin along the last ten years, being personally trained for kingship. He could not risk trusting. Not even his brother.

Well, if Thorin believed he was mature enough to be king on his own, then he would be mature to make decisions for his own life on his own. Right now, the only result to be avoided was to be found and forced to marry a foreign princess he didn't care to know the colour of the beard.

If his own volition counted, said princess could go chase goats in the skirts of the Mountain while he made a new life elsewhere.

And it would count.

-xxx-

Tilda paced the floor of her sleeping quarters, sure the one hour Sigrid mentioned had come and gone away long ago. She packed and repacked the saddlebag three times, making sure there was enough room for the food. Her hair was held in a simple ponytail to keep it out of her face, and her feet were covered by her sturdier boots. Wool trousers would conceal her legs under the dark green skirt of her dress while riding, and a brown coat would keep the chill of down away.

Finally, a soft knock on the door announced Sigrid was there. Tilda let her in and closed it quickly, lest someone would see the movement in the corridor and suspect something was going on in the middle of the night.

"Are you ready?" Asked the older sister.

"What took you so long?" Asked the younger one at the same time.

"I had to nurse Sigwine and then Dunwine came back from whatever feast he was attending and wanted to have some feast with me too, if you take my meaning."

Tilda nodded, embarrassed.

"Here, I took some of our entourage provisions, they are dry and light and shall be enough for a couple of weeks. Each of this water skins will last you for two days, and you can replenish along the way."

As quickly as Sigrid spoke, the traveling food disappeared into Tilda's saddlebag. There were dried fruit and meat, sausages, shelled nuts and way bread, thin and hard, but that would turn soft enough to eat when sprinkled with water. Dried travel rations would become a nourishing soup once rehydrated.

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Aye." Nodded Tilda. "A knife, fire kit, sleeping roll, a comb, soap, extra clothes and some money. Besides my healer satchel, of course."

"Good. Don't forget mittens, your hands can go numb when you ride long in the night and it gets hard to unsaddle a horse when your fingers are stiff."

"I have them here in my pocket, and some peanuts, too."

"Nice!" Smiled Sigrid. "I got you some salt, too, and a small cooking set."

"Ah, Siggie!" Tida had to stop her packing to embrace her sister. "You thought of everything!"

"The Rohirrim are not exactly nomads, but they travel a lot. Even living in Gondor, Lord Thengel is always traveling, and Dunwine with him."

"And you take care of his traveling gear?"

"Everything. His and his March."

"Then I'm sure your Lord Thengel is well served!"

"Now, off we go. You must be far before the sun rises, if you want to have a good head-start."

"Ah, Siggie, I would be lost if it weren't for you!"

They walked with care along the dark corridors of the castle, avoiding with care the most used areas. Soon a back door used mostly to discard garbage let them out in a garbage-smelling alley, and from there they walked briskly to the limits of Dale, each of them holding one side of the saddlebag plus a water skin.

"Are you sure it is this way?" Asked Tilda, anxious.

"Of course I am, Tilda, I sneaked this way times enough to be sure. Just one more turn left and…"

And the outer wall had been repaired.

"No…" Sigrid looked at the wall with forlorn eyes. "I'm sure it was here, Tilda, right here…"

The saddlebag was left on the ground and she banged her hands on the wall as if it would miraculously open a magic passage.

Needless to say, it did not.

"Siggie… Siggie, stop!"

Tilda grabbed Sigrid's hands, scared of seeing her always focused sister in such anger.

"It was here! I know it was here, Tilda!"

"But it isn't anymore, Siggie, and hitting the wall won't help it." The girl understood that underneath went an anger of having her town changed while she was away. "Maybe there's some other gap in the wall, we just have to find it."

"Oh, Tilda, I'm so sorry! I was sure we could get you out in this spot!"

"Maybe the restoration efforts have been harder than I took notice. But there might still be a gap or another, we just must find it."

-xxx-

The bright side of being a royal was that none questioned orders.

The still brighter side was that being known as the reckless part of royalty meant none questioned absurd-like orders, like to saddle up his pony at weird nightly hours.

But Kíli's mind wasn't on any bright side of royalty, life and everything. Betrayal was the recurrent word crossing his thoughts. It was not fair. None of it. Not royalty, nor life, nor being left alive when Tauriel…

"Don't lose your faith."

The voice echoed in his mind, pleading. But how could he comply if everything around him was so wrong? Kíli brought the pony to an easier canter, allowing the mare to rest and himself to look around, even if he was sure the source of the voice would not be visible to mortal eyes. A lone star in the west caught his eye, the pure shine calming his heart and easing his mind.

"Never, amaralimë. Because Mandos awaits for everyone, and then we'll meet again."

With this sad hope in mind, the haggard dwarf resumed his journey, no destination, no regrets, no forgiveness.

-x-

Both sisters were sweating and swearing by the time they found a place where a tree grew close enough to the wall to be used as a stair, but the ground level outside was bellow enough to prevent them from daring their necks in the fall.

"We could walk on the wall until we find a place where the ground outside is closer."

"With this saddlebag between us and all watchers noticing a couple of women walking on the wall? No thanks. We go down again."

Tilda looked right and noticed the first change in the colour of the sky.

"We must go fast if we are to succeed at all."

"So we will!"

The next chance of escape proved true. A gap was hidden behind tall bushes, that covered it on both sides of the wall, and it was almost the same level in the inside as in the outside.

"Tilda, here! I think we found it!"

"You're right! I can see the outside!"

They crawled down through the overgrown bushes, dragging the saddlebag behind them, puffing and swearing.

"I didn't know you had such a colourful vocabulary, little sister!"

Tilda answered with a colourful sign of her hand.

"You don't seem ignorant to any of my colourful words, big sister!"

"But I'm living amongst rude horsemen, you know…"

"If this is to be accounted as an excuse, I'm living all my life amongst rude fishermen, and you know what I mean."

They both giggled. They were outside the city of Dale, and now it was just to…

A low toned whistle came from Sigrid's lips, and she asked her little sister.

"Do you ride bareback?"

"Not if I can prevent it. I thought Rohirrim horses were not like the elven breed that stands no saddle."

"Some of ours are, but Broda is not a Mearas and will do both. We just have to reach the place where we stowed the saddles and horse gear. On his back it would be faster. Can you whistle like I just did? Broda will answer to this call."

"You… You're really giving me your own horse for me to flee, Sigrid? Won't your husband get mad at you?"

Sigrid shrugged.

"Only if he finds it out. For all I know, Broda was the only one of our horses you were introduced to, so he must have confided in you as someone who was allowed to handle him."

"And the saddle and stuff?"

"Oh, who would imagine little Tilda had such burglar's skills?"

Sigrid's theatrical voice was enough for her sister to giggle, but soon it was stopped by the sound of hooves approaching in the coming down.

"I didn't register Broda was so tall." Tilda murmured, half in awe, half afraid.

"It means he'll ride fast once you're upon him." Sigrid threw the saddlebag to its place and hoped up the horse. "Here, take my hand."

"You've become quite a rider, sis." Tilda settled herself the best she could behind her sister.

"There's no other option in the Ridermark. Now, off we go!"