I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (Just the AU storyline and my OC). Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fanfics would not be in existence.

My grandmother is having major surgery for cancer today. I typed this up on my laptop while in the waiting room. If you pray, please pray for no complications, and a swift and uneventful recovery. Thank you!

As always, please review, favorite, and follow -it is really encouraging :D

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Tauriel could barely maintain her composure as she walked back to the front gate. Nairon had gone on ahead, after fulfilling the task she had given him, and she was glad he was not with her now. The young captain of the guard had just delivered Galmar's body to his kin, and the ensuing grief had been difficult to witness. So many questions were asked of her. How? Why? But the one that wrenched her heart from her breast was the one that followed.

Where were you?

Where was she? She had been safely behind her scouts with the rest of her patrol when Galmar had been killed!

Why didn't you stop them?

She did stop them…but not fast enough.

Why didn't you kill them?

Their patrol did, but Galmar was already dead by then.

Her mind kept racing, wondering if there was some validity in their anger. Was there something more she could have done? Was there something she should have done, but did not? Was Mareth right? Should she have done what Captain Daithon always does? Tauriel had been a patrol for three hundred years now, and she had heard of deaths resulting from various causes, even witnessed a few herself. But she had never been in charge then. This was her first day as a Captain of the Guard, and she'd already lost one of her patrols!

"Tauriel," The young patrol looked up, only to see a somewhat confused Captain of the Guard Erestor before her. She saluted her commander.

"Captain," she addressed him. His expression was one of deep concern.

"What are you doing here?" he asked worriedly. "You are to be patrolling along our southeastern border with your patrol unit. Did something terrible happen?" Her shoulders slumped, and her expression became very grave.

"I'm afraid I had to return," she explained. "My patrol discovered a very large spider's nest across the border in our lands. They attacked my scouts, and we slew them all. But…" The young captain blinked back her tears.

"We lost one of my patrols," she continued, grief washing over her anew. "Galmar. Nairon and I were returning him to his kin." Grief flitted through Erestor's brown eyes.

"Where is your patrol?" he asked, looking around.

"They are still patrolling the border," she replied. His expression grew very stern.

"You left your patrol behind?" Her eyes widened in horror as she suddenly realized her greatest mistake.

A patrol can leave to return a body, but a Captain never abandons their post…and I just did.

"I am grieved by your loss," he stated, his eyes empathetic as he placed his hand on her shoulder. "We all have lost those who serve under us. It is a tragedy indeed.

"But," he continued, his tone becoming very stern. "You should not have left your patrol unit behind, not even to return a fallen warrior to his kin. You are a Captain of the Guard, Tauriel. You are not a patrol any longer. You should have ordered two of your ellons to return his body to his kin, not done so yourself. What will happen, should another spider colony set upon them, while you are safely here in the King's Halls? You have left your patrol leaderless, and without instruction. Because of your rashness, you might lose more patrols than just Gelmar in your absence! Leaving your patrol unit is very unwise, dangerous, and unbefitting a Captain of the Guard. I will have to inform High Captain Legolas about this." Her eyes widened in panic.

"Please, Captain," she pleaded. "Galmar's death was my fault, and…" He shook his head.

"I understand, Captain Tauriel," he assured her, his tone slightly less harsh than before. "But you are not just responsible for Galmar. You are also responsible for the rest of the patrol guards under your command, who are, at this very moment, patrolling a potentially dangerous border without their leader to give them direction. It is good to respect the fallen, but do not forget the living." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Return to your patrol at once," he ordered, "Make haste! And, though I must inform the High Captain of what transpired, I will see to it that you remain a Captain of the Guard." She bowed her head gratefully, and moved to pass him.

"Captain Tauriel!" he called behind her. She turned and looked back at Erestor. His expression was dead serious. "High Captain Legolas believes that you are ready for this command. Though I believe you to be courageous, intelligent, and skilled with a blade, I confess, I had my doubts. This incident has not assuaged them. In fact, it has only made them more pressing in my mind. A captain's place is with their patrol, wherever they may be. If one falls, as is inevitable in these dangerous times, you must send some of your patrols back with their body, and remain with the rest, and only if it is safe for them to do so. I strongly urge you not to abandon your post again, if you want to remain in the king's service." He saluted her, then turned to resume his former business.

It was a grave warning, and she knew it. The next time she made such a reckless mistake, he would not be so gracious. And yet, she was immensely grateful for his mercy. Everyone knew that The High Captain of the Guard was stern, but fair. Now that her inner turmoil was settling down, she recognized the wisdom in his words. It was a wisdom borne of long experience that predated even their Lord's father, the first Sindarin King of the Greenwood, who had fallen in battle long before she was born.

Captain Erestor, despite being friends with the King's son (with whom, as The Captain of the Guard, he worked with closely), he was, like her, just a simple, ordinary Silvan elf. The humble, soft-spoken ellon was by far the most dangerous warrior in the entire Woodland Realm, save for perhaps the King's Personal Guard and High Captain Legolas, the latter of whom he trained personally from childhood. But never once had she seen him boast of his great skill with a blade, or deadly accuracy with a bow, or uncanny skill in woodcraft. Nor had she seen him use his connections and renown to benefit his reputation amongst the Sindarin and Silvan lords.

Indeed, if there was but a single leaf out of place in the entire realm, he would notice it, the Captain being the single most accomplished woodsman and tracker in the whole of the northern lands. He had started out as a lowly patrol himself, the young ellon hailing from a poor, insignificant family of the smallest, most remote region in the realm. His great skill had caused him to quickly advance in the ranks, until the king himself took notice of the prodigious ellon, and appointed him to his current position. His rank as The Captain of the Guard was well-earned, and not a single fear in the entirety of elvendom could ever accuse him of being undeserving of the illustrious position.

There were very few in the Woodland Realm who disliked Captain Erestor, and none that she could think of who did not at least respect him.

He was unique amongst the higher-ranking captains as well. Unlike the others, he did not bear the title of Lord, despite his high status as the head of the king's Border Guard, and his friendship with High Captain Legolas. The rumor was that he had been offered the lordship several times, but he did not bear the noble title or status because he simply refused to accept the honor. Unlike many within the realm in similar positions, he had no desire for renown, fortune, or high social status. All he wanted to do was provide for and protect his kin, defend his home, and serve his king and people as a humble common-ellon, as best he was able. And he did so quietly, with humility, wisdom, and grace, and firmness, sternness, and wisdom, in equal measure.

If anyone had to catch her in her grave mistake, she was immensely thankful that it had been Captain Erestor, and no one else. If the King had caught her shirking her duties, and abandoning her post, even if it was for a good reason…she shuddered at the thought. If Erestor was understanding and gracious, though fair and stern, with those who served under him, the King was not.

King Thranduil could be rather…ill-tempered and callous, especially if someone who served under him disregarded his orders. He was uncompromising, harsh, and unyielding, especially when it came to the defense of his realm. From what she had heard over the years, he had a very low opinion of those who did not perform their duties competently, and such servants and warriors were often relieved of their positions. Unlike the Captain, he was not so forgiving to those who abandoned their posts, and she most assuredly would have been stripped of her rank, and removed entirely from the king's service with dishonor, if King Thranduil had discovered her indiscretion.

She was very, very thankful that Erestor was willing to speak to High Captain Legolas on her behalf. He was her only hope for remaining in the guard at all. Her parents had been killed by orcs when she was a small child, and the only thing she'd ever wanted to do with her life was serve in the guard, and prevent orcs, and other unsavory creatures, from ever killing an elf again. A kind Silvan family took her into their home and raised her to love her realm, and be loyal to her king, no matter how ill-tempered he could be.

The day she became a patrol, her adoptive father couldn't have been prouder of her. When she was made a Captain of the Guard, he was over the stars with joy, and couldn't stop grinning for days, and neither could her adoptive mother. She just wanted to make them proud, and being relieved of her position in dishonor would be the most horrible thing that could happen to them. Thank Elbereth that Erestor was willing to advocate for her to High Captain Legolas! The High Captain was the person responsible for recommending her advancement to a Captain of the Guard to the king, and she didn't want to let him down, either. She would still be a lowly patrol, if it hadn't been for his recommendation!

Her thoughts returned to Galmar as she ran through the forest, and the deep grief his family endured this day. It was a grief she knew all too well, and she felt it every time she remembered her real mother and father, and their love. All she wanted to do was keep others alive, and safe from orcs and spiders. That was her task, and she did it well. There would be no more mistakes.

She would not let anyone else suffer the sting of loss, not if she could help it. She was a warrior, a Captain of the Guard, serving in the Border Faction of the Woodland Realm Army, under the command of her Lord, King Thranduil. She was a warrior, a fighter, and a defender of all she loved. And she would protect this realm, and her patrol, against all intruders, whether they were creature, or orc, or any other being intent on endangering the lives of her people.

For, in these dark days of danger and strife, no intruder to their realm was above suspicion.

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Bombur smiled as yet another massive pork pie appeared before him. It was so strange, and so wonderful at the same time. Here he was, sitting at a table filled to the brim with the most delicious food. There were flagons of ale, ornately-carved pints filled with malt beer, bowls of fruit, wheels of cheese, baskets filled with bread, savory meats, pies of all kinds, delectable wine, roasted squashes, tomatoes, sausages, and, right in the center, a massive, gloriously-roasted boar lying atop a gilded silver tray.

He was at this table, surrounded by his entire family, and they continued to eat, and eat, and eat…and it was so strange. He was never hungry, nor was he full. He could simply eat, and savor the plethora of flavors that permeated every fiber of his being. The fruit was the sweetest fruit he'd ever tasted. The pies were filled with all sorts of spices. The fatty meat almost melted in his mouth, and the malt beer rivalled every strong drink he'd ever partaken of in his life.

Next to the table, there was a roaring fire, with a stag roasting on a spit, and the smell permeated the room, mixing with the delightful scent of freshly baked bread, sweet jams, and bitter, but also sweet, drink. There were bowls of butter, jars of honey, and even a little personal set of salt and pepper in gilded shakers for every person at the table. The bowls were carven wood, the cups silver, the tables and chairs ornately carved. It was as though he were attending a bountiful feast in Ered Luin, but…it was odd. The carven style was not dwarf-make. It more resembled elvish styles.

He was very confused, but he paid it no mind. There was a feast to be eaten, family to be enjoyed, tales to be told, songs to be sung, and the warm, sweet scent of woodsmoke and pipe-weed to fill the air. This was home, warm and cozy and full of love…and all the bountiful goodness he could ever stuff inside his salivating mouth. He had never, ever known such joy, peace and comfort in his entire life. If only this wonderful moment could last forever, he would be the happiest dwarf to ever have lived, in all the history of Middle-earth.

Suddenly, to his horror, the food began to disappear. Where there was warmth, it grew cool. Where there was the scent of woodsmoke and pipe-weed, savory roasted meats, and sweet bread, there was now the horrible, dank, dark, and musty smell of rotting wood. Where there was firelight, there was now dimness. Where there was a full belly, now there was hunger. A gnawing, miserable, painful hunger that threatened to devour him.

Heavy-lidded eyes slowly opened, only to reveal the densest, ugliest, foulest-smelling forest canopy he had ever seen. The rotund dwarf blinked in shock, only for utter bewilderment and confusion to settle upon him. Sitting up, he looked around at a rather abysmal and grumpy-looking group of dwarves, a Mannish maiden, and one very sorry-looking hobbit, and his eyes widened in dismay as he realized that he had absolutely no idea what they were all doing there, or who the hobbit and Mannish woman even were.

"Where in Mahal's name am I?" he asked, causing the rest of the group's heads to whip around with a start. "And what happened to all the food?!"

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