Warning: It's not only Kíli who is coming to acknowledge his feelings…

pallysd'Artagnan, orcs might be the lesser of their problems in the near future…
Nenithiel, thankfully dreams use to show what one refuses to see with waking eyes!
Jilba25, not only him!
Celebrisilweth, how they'll handle reality is quite another problem…
TheOtherWritingGirl, they're oblivious idiots, and not the only ones.
Many thanks to Falcongyr, Katt8500 and Littlelottie8886 for following and favoriting!
=^.^=

"We didn't have report of orcs around for a long time. Whatever the White Council did in Dol Guldur, it worked for years. What could have changed now?"

Bard's questioned mostly to himself, but Thorin was puzzled just like his neighbour king, and ostensibly more bitter. Orcs were a curse to Durin's line, Azog and Bolg being just the fresher reminder of it, so far. While other clans fell to the charms of Sauron and his foul master, the sons of the first father resisted, and suffered for it.

"I don't like this elvish and wizardish White Council at all. Never heard of someone of our races to be invited to one of their meetings, as if our fates weren't part of this world at all, or had no importance. They remember our existence only when it fits their convenience."

"And we don't even know what their convenience is." Complained Bard.

"True."

The searching party had been restless since the sight of orc tracks, undoubtedly. It suggested a route coming from north and heading to southwest, which was strange, considering it would mean them coming from the heart of the elven kingdom. Dealings with the elves had been quite good in the last years, as far as possible (which meant good trade with Dale and Lake Town and no open aggression with Erebor, including free pass through the old Dwarf road), and none of the current kings of dwarf and of men had reason to suspect treason on the elven king's part, which led to the hypothesis of Thranduil's people either not being aware of orc activity or unable to stop them, both scenarios horrible enough without the current predicament both mortal kings were facing.

Looking for runaway Kíli had been forgotten since the dwarves knew about Tilda's kidnapping, and now even the importance of her kidnapping was lessened by the discovery of orc activity. One could negotiate with a regular kidnapper, but an ordinary kidnapper could be killed (or worse) by an orc pack, and so the younger Bardling. Albeit still dark, still in need of repairing, so to say, Mirkwood was getting lighter and its people, stronger; the Dwarven Road that crossed it was deemed once again a safe road, caravans crossing it with no more trouble than a bunch of robbers once in a while, nothing a regular escort couldn't deal with. But an orc pack…

"We must decide on looking for your daughter or hunting this pack."

"You seem to have forgotten your heir."

Thorin squeezed his eyes and tried to dispel an impending migraine by sheer power of will.

"Kíli is capable of fending for himself." He considered his words and completed. "Mostly."

"But and orc pack…"

"An orc pack would be disastrous both to the kidnapper or anyone traveling the forest as a whole or the Dwarven Road in particular, immediately, be it my nephew or anyone else. We don't know if they're really heading there to, but it would be a fair guess if they intend for the Misty Mountains, where we know they infest. Whatever they aim to, these orc tracks mean anyone in the surroundings is in danger. From my previous experience, I'd say hunt the orcs, else you'll be trying to fix one issue and when you least expect it, there'll be a bunch of orcs messing everything around and preventing you from fixing whatever you were trying to."

"For all it pains me, I must agree."

Bard fingered the string of his bow, anxious to put it to good use. But there was no enemy, no shadow he could shoot an arrow at; instead, the anguish of not knowing what was happening to his daughter. At least she didn't simply run away like Thorin's nephew… And she fought bravely. All evidence in her chambers pointed to struggle, from the broken furniture to the smear of blood in the windowsill. It pained Bard to consider it could be his little daughter's blood, but a part of him knew how fierce Tilda could be, and that she had training enough to offer resistance to a regular man. The dagger she used to keep under her pillow had been found somewhere on the floor, smeared with blood. It helped him to sleep at night.

Thorin brought him back to reality with an undeniable offer.

"Then, let's hunt some orc."

Little did Bard know of how much his daughters were thick as thieves, neither of how skilled in the art of deceit Sigrid had become whilst living in Gondor's court…

=^.^= xxx-xxx =^.^=

It was late afternoon when they took the old forest road again, and they decided to ride at least a couple of miles before camping. They would be protected by the large trees, even if Kíli didn't consider trees to be his friends. Anyway, it would be harder to be seen if they camped out of the main track, and so they did.

"Should we make a fire?" Asked Tilda, searching her saddlebag for provisions.

"It is getting cold at night. We had no notice of pursuers, so it may be safe."

Her little cooking set was soon put close to the happy bonfire Kíli lightened after they both cleansed the ground from loose leaves and twigs that could allow the fire to spread beyond the boundaries of their camp. Water and dried provisions found their way into the small pot and waited to boil to make a wholesome soup, whilst horse and pony grazed the underbrush.

"May I put my sleeping roll beside yours? Only... Only to keep the warmth…"

Her shy question made Kíli to smile, and he lowered his own sleeping roll beside hers.

"We both need warmth. You…" A fingertip traced her eyebrow and then down her face, stopping just to play with her lower lip. "Children of Iluvatar have not the heat of Mahal's forge... I can… I may…"

Tilda could feel the skin of his finger warming her lip, and remembered how they shared warmth in other occasions. His skin was not just warmer than hers, it was like if someone feverish touched her. But with him, it felt good.

"Aye. It is cold and…"

If it was him to approach her or if it was her that got closer to him, she didn't care; their lips touched like she had fancied several times before; but, unlike what she feared, they didn't split apart as if something wrong was being done. It felt good to touch and to be touched, and her fresh lips lent him the pleasure of novelty.

"Do you want me to heat you…?"

Kíli's question was half a plea and half a promise, and Tilda took both.

"Kíli, I…"

Any possible answer was drowned in a furious kiss that took her by surprise but immediately made her sure it was all she wanted in this world. His lips and tongue were warmer than hers, like his finger that just touched her lips, and made her consider if all of his body was warmer than hers. The perspective was entertaining.

The furs of the sleeping rolls were stretched on the ground before she knew what was happening, and they felt comfortable under her body. Feeling relaxed, Kíli's hands caressing her body were more than welcomed.

"I won't do anything you don't..."

"I want it! Kíli, I want it, please…"

He closed his eyes, hiding from her the shine of a thousand stars as his lips traced kisses from her mouth to her chin and throat and down and down and down…

"I'm not like Men…"

"I don't want Men, I want you!"
Tilda opened her eyes with a start, sitting up in her sleeping roll in the middle of the night. Kíli was watching the darkness at the other side of the fire, bow and quiver at hand, as usual.

"I'll better stop having these dreams if we're to be friends until the other end of this forest." Tilda thought quietly, forcing herself to close her eyes again. It would be a long night.