A.N.: Hello, dearest readers, once again I must apologise for the delay, but I have reasons. This second graduation is taking its toll; data science is, as Mr. Spock would say, fascinating, but demands dedication and a lot of time. Also, we're moving, both home and office, we're still boxing everything while fixing some issues in the new house, and Erú knows how much time it demands and how tiring it is! But I count my blessings, and still being able to write in between is a very meaningful one. Thank you for your patience!

Salwyn77, they're trying really hard, and facing its results, unfortunately; Thorin and Dís still have issues to fix, as siblings use to, and Bilbo is squeezed between them.
Celebrisilweth, they're almost there, keep the faith!
Mustard Lady, I love Jumanji! Their help is on the way, both from dwarf and elf and man. But I'd run faster if I were them…
Mizz Alec Volturi, thank you so much, I hope you'll like this one.
That Other Writer Girl, the rescuers don't know Kíli's been captured too, I hope it doesn't make them too optimistic; our intrepid heroes are more like desperate heroes, but they too keep the faith!

Getting Closer

This time it was the spiders that cut short their escapade, and Legolas was stoned for half a day longer than the last time the eight-legged pests got them, after their escape from Burzurg and his pack. It would be funny if they were not in such a dire situation, but right now having his friend singing dirty tavern songs only made Kíli cringe.

"At least he's not in pain…" The dwarf tried to look over his friend's foolishness while wishing he could close Tilda's ears. Even the loud thud of orcs running beside them could not muffle Legolas' loud show. "But if I ever know he is conscious of what he's singing, I'll make him feel pain!"

"Forgive him, Kíli. He's as daft as a poppy-milker."

"As a what?"

"As an addict to poppy-milk. It happens sometimes, when a patient goes through too much pain, and we have to give poppy-milk to numb it for a long time." She gasped for air, running and talking was not easy with her small frame and undernourishment. "If it is taken for too long a time, when the cause of the pain is over, the body is so used to it that it feels pain just for not having poppy-milk."

"But he had no poppy-milk, just spider venom."

"I was wondering about it. Maybe they're alike."

"Alike? How?"

The dwarf tried to connect the image of a field of poppies with overzealous spiders tending the flowers, but it just made him shudder at the absurdity of it.

"It makes one to pass out instantly, and to remain so, longer each time it's used, if not spaced by several days or even weeks; while under its hold, you feel no pain nor wish to confront anything at all. Does it remind you of how we felt when the spiders stung us?"

Kíli lowered his head, focusing on his feet while running at the orcs' speed. He hid his feelings under a ton of shame, because how could an honourable dwarf assume he had no wish to fight after being stabbed by a spawn of Ungoliant? Yet, that was what he had to acknowledge after his few encounters with Mirkwood spiders (even if those few were more than the wished for, in other words, none at all). Talking with his brother and other members of the Company he was able to state that inability to resist sleepiness and lethargy was completely normal when you had one of that basted spiders' poison in your body.

"Perfectly, unfortunately."

Fortunately, although, the orcs decided that was the best moment, or place, whatever, to make camp and spend the brighter hours of the day. The trees were more sparse in the south part of the forest, and the creatures of Morgoth avoided sunlight like Ori avoided green food.

The chains that linked their shackles were locked around a tree, as usual since their first attempt to escape. At least it granted them somewhere to lean their backs against, which was not the best position to sleep, but was better than the time they were tied to boulders of sharp rock. Even the dwarf felt uncomfortable, and that is saying a lot for a being whose Maker was Lord over Stone.

Some hard bread was thrown their way, which was good, but Legolas insisted that the bread had tiny fairies inside it and that they would devour him from inside out if he ate the bread, which was bad. Both fairies devouring him from inside out and Legolas imagining it was a real possibility.

Tilda munched her bread slowly, no saliva in her mouth to help process the hard food. She knew it was the only food they'd be allowed to, and didn't wish to know the other choices the orcs held for themselves. When the trembling of hunger subsided some, she resumed her explanation to Kíli. Legolas juggled with some bread pieces, fast enough that no orc witnessed it.

"You see, now he's even more able than the usual. Faster, as we can see; and stronger, from what we witnessed last time."

Kíli nodded slowly, recalling how Legolas had been keen to pull them up the trees. An energy sprout, and soon it was over and the elf was wobbling like a drunken possum.

"Poppy milk does that?" He asked, astonished. He never heard anything of the like, even being friends with Nori, who knew everything about any unusual and/or non-allowed substance from Erebor to the Blue Mountains. If it could be used to their advantage…

"Aye, but along misconceptions about the world around, not to say simple delirium."

"But, we could use Legolas'… spider-venom strength to get away from here? You mentioned he's faster, and stronger… Kind of a spiderelf?"

The woman looked down at her shackled wrists.

"But utterly useless!"

That made the elf look up from the bread pieces he was juggling, causing them to fall all over his lap.

"I'm not utterly useless. I can still be used as a bad example!"

Tilda would facepalm if her hands were not so filthy. The elf, right now, was beyond help. Kíli turned to her, more whispering in her ear than speaking, sending shivers down her spine despite the embroilment of the moment.

"Is it always so with poppy-milkers?"

The woman swallowed the last of the dry bread they were allowed to and focused on answering her dwarf's question.

"Not always. Sometimes people think they are able to fly and try to do it, throwing themselves out of a window. Sometimes they are sure they're invisible and this leads to the most embarrassing scenes. Don't ask me to retell you any, right?"

Now Kíli understood, or guesses he understood, why Nori never told him anything about poppy-milk. It would both explain a lot about Nori's erratic behaviour sometimes and why he never mentioned it to him or to Fíli. They both were too much irresponsible to deal with such and information. Longbottom pipeweed was enough, and it was enough.

"Poppy-milk withdrawal is alike to what Legolas has been through, with cramps, pain, feeling too cold and too hot… and convulsions too. It's a sorry sight to witness."

"And what do you do to heal it?" Kíli asked, noticing her sad face. Talking about her healing arts always made her energetic, and he used it to distract Tilda from their current predicament. Only, it didn't work this time.

"There's nothing that helps, in what we know so far. Sometimes we must put the poppy-milker in a cell until the withdrawal is over, else the person can hurt themselves."

"Right. What cannot be cured must be endured." He fidgeted with his shackles, trying another topic to pull her away from her sadness. "When do you think we'll try another escapade, Tilda?"

Her eyes were set with a determined look Kíli only ever saw on his mother, which was scaring.

"As we always do it, Kíli. At the first sight of a chance."

The orc trail was plain to see, as the scout informed. Not hard to follow at all, the track of broken branches, revolved earth and assorted trash, as if the orcs rejoiced in defiling and polluting the very earth they stood upon. Well, maybe, that was the whole point of those spawns of Morgoth, as they themselves were the result of the Enemy's torture and cankering of elves of the First Age, if any Age was already counted by then. Elves that were born before Sun or Moon sailed the skies, now lost forever.

Well, if Tilda wasn't to be lost forever, they'd better run, Thorin thought to himself. Even if Kíli was after her, as evidences suggested. What was Kíli doing in that stretch of forest he couldn't fathom, but if he was running away from his duty as heir of Durin's line (as the dwarven king firmly believed was the case) he could well be tracking his way back from whence he came. Yet, only a complete stupid would believe he could lead on the life he had at the Blue Mountains without Thorin's approval, and a complete stupid Kíli wasn't, despite his notorious recklessness.

But then, was he really as reckless as people used to believe? Sometimes Thorin pondered that maybe what started as a truth became a smokescreen to conceal the statesdwarf he was, to his advantage. Frivolous signs of recklessness in matters where it didn't have any substantial effect, but that helped him to achieve victories in things that mattered in the dealing of the settlement. A veritable pupil of Balin, his nephew was.

"How can I wipe it away?"

The voice of his official burglar startled him. The path was easy to follow and they advanced well, yet it was bumpy enough to prevent the horses to gain full speed, and so, allowing a bit of conversation when the trail was wide enough.

"Wipe what away, pray?"

"That frown of yours. If looks could burn, Shamrock's mane would be ashes by now. What did the poor pony do to you?"

Thorin dignified to uplift a half smile. That hobbit really had the gift to make him smile in the direst situations. Like when he was bleeding to death on the frozen waters of the River Running after dispatching Azog.

"You already did."

"I did what the pony did to you?"

Bilbo's frown was genuine, and Thorin's reasoning too fast for his taste.

"I shouldn't have to explain such thing to an expert burglar, should I?"

"Right." The hobbit rearranged his shoulders in the most dignified way he could while riding a pony and playing words with Thorin instead of swordplaying. "What bothers you? Besides this orc hunt, I mean. And besides Kìli having…"

"Shut!"

The hobbit knew when to clip his lips when necessary, and Thorin's interjection was more than enough for him to remember the men of Dale and Rohan didn't know about Kíli's… unexpected adventure.

After some moments of focus on the irregular ground, the dwarf spoke at last, loud enough for his hobbit to hear, nothing more.

"Kíli is not a fool, even if he tries to sell himself as such when it suits him. Since I bestowed him authority on the Blue Mountains' settlement, he handled councillors thrice his age to his will, called to reason citizens who sought royal justice for petty issues, dismissed merchants who thought a young ruler was a foolish ruler, and dealt with manish neighbours desperate for protection while attempting to manipulate that brat of a dwarf."

Bilbo frowned, trying to digest what he just heard. It was obvious to him that manish neighbours and dwarrow councillors were more fools than Kíli had ever been, in the hobbit's account, anyway. He told Thorin that much.

"I knew you held Kíli in high esteem. I should have paid more attention to your regard for him."

"Why?" The question was genuine.

"You knew him well enough to know the manoeuvre to marry him wouldn't work. Also, to know he wasn't in his bedroom when we were looking for him. I should have conferred with you prior to take my decision. I was a fool."

Embarrassed, Bilbo focused on the reins of his pony, which was better than to look at the ground to keep him stable.

"Thorin, it's not that you are…"

"Humpf! Of course it is. But if he deigned he should have conferred with you, what would justify him not conferring with me?"

"Dís." Thorin acknowledged the presence of his sister riding beside them, with a frown.

"Dís, I wasn't…" Bilbo tried to apologise.

"But you should."

"Dís!"

"Enough." It was a command, if someone ever heard one. Her voice was dangerous, and Bilbo wished he could melt into the background and let the sibling bearded Powers war. "Bilbo was not at Erebor for the last six seasons. I was."

"I don't have to have this conversation. You always dispute whatever the Council decides."

"Only when your precious Council is stupid."

"As I said, you always dispute."

"I wouldn't, if they weren't always stupid."

"Dís, Thorin…" The hobbit's pony was on the path to being squeezed between Shamrock and Thunder, but focused only on the orc ravaged path before it. Bilbo felt as squeezed as his mount, only worse. "I thought this was already settled. It was wrong to arrange a political marriage for Kíli, and we're facing the outcome of such a.. such a…"

"Stupid decision?" Offered Dís.

"Dire political need?" Thorin stressed.

"Both!" Clarified Bilbo. "Now, can we all act as adults and focus on… on the matter at hand?"

There wasn't really any matter at hand, but Bilbo had to make them drop the fight, for his own sanity's sake.

"And what is the matter at hand that we're not focusing on?"

The phrase was too long to have being uttered both by a seething Thorin or a fuming Dís, but could make sense coming from either lips. The only problem was that Bilbo didn't plan on having to explain what, in goodness, was the matter at hand, because it was obvious to him.

"Ahn, well… We have an orc trail, a kidnapped lass, an heroic dwarf trekking both, and…"

The hobbit interrupted his babbling to follow a train of thought that hit him like a, well, like a train.

"And what?

Bilbo looked at both as he answered, a bewildered countenance on his face.

"Would there be fragments of Kíli's arrows at Tilda's camp if his arrows weren't there before the attack?"

The children of Thráin had no time to consider an answer, being interrupted by a shout from a returning scout.

"A burned camp! And there are orc carcasses!"