41A/N: As some would agree I longed for a different ending to The Battle of the Five Armies. Here is my attempt at giving Fíli, Kíli and Tauriel a second chance.
Please, as always, let me know of any inconsistencies with the movies/books (obviously aside from what I do as creative control) and tell me if you catch any grammatical errors!
Disclaimer: I am neither Tolkien nor Jackson (though wouldn't that be something if I were!?)
On 1/12/2017 this story was completely PULLED and EDITED. I highly suggest re-reading it, for I have added and changed many things since its original published date!
Audacity - The willingness to take bold risks.
"This one dies first. Then the brother. Then you, Oakenshield. You will die last."
Kíli had, in his arguably short lifetime, never felt so troubled by a vigorous string of threats.
The rough, callous voice of intimidation tumbled loudly down the stone walls above the now breathless dwarf prince, causing his booted heels to skid into an ill-timed halt at the edge of the broken, snow invaded hallway.
Kíli's breathing quieted to a distressed stillness as the words, spoken in the dark goblin tongue, roused a mixture of both fire and fear deep within his trembling belly. He took a cautioned step forward, abandoning any protection that the crumbling fortress of Ravenhill provided, and craned his neck upward while desperately searching the overhead towers for sight of his brother. The dwarf prince's dark brown eyes eagerly scanned their way up toward the peak of the tower as he took yet another long, tentative step out onto the snowy walkway.
A current of powerlessness washed over Kíli as his eyes met Fíli's, and his entire body ached as the reality of what he was about to witness flurried violently through his mind.
"RUN!" The familiar, furious voice of Fíli urged from above, hoping that his bold plea would reach the ears of their stubborn King.
Kíli's chest tightened in response to the desperate, unnatural command as it left his older brother's mouth. The raven-haired prince stared up at the hopeless sight of his dangling kin for a long, inert moment as his fists began to clench with anticipation. A futile feeling washed over the dwarf prince, like a frozen wave of water as he watched Azog raise his sharpened prosthetic forearm with a twisted smile of amusement painted across his scarred, white face.
Time stopped. And the world, as Kíli knew it, fell into a haunting stillness.
Kíli tried to scream out, to cry in objection, to plea with Mahal… but his voice faltered within his throat, leaving a scorching sensation where the words failed to ascend. A surge of emotion clawed viciously at his soul, and heavy tears began to pool along his thick line of lower lashes. Never had he felt so small, so helpless, so powerless…
Suddenly, as all hope faded rapidly into darkness, Kíli's keen ears caught wind of the familiar, distant sound of a humming bow string. Moments later the dwarf prince's young eyes locked onto a lone golden-tipped arrow as it soared swiftly and silently through the air, eventually finding its resting place deep within Azog's right wrist.
The fateful attack happened so quickly and so stilly that Azog's immediate and forced reaction was to release his grip around Fíli's neck while taking a stumbling, terrified step backwards. The fabled white orc wailed out a single shrill cry, mixed with anger and confusion, as he stared down at his only remaining arm with dismay. The arrow, easily removed with a bite from Azog's uneven teeth, proved to be neither fatal nor deep; but it had deposited enough pain to buy the Company some time.
And time was all that they needed.
Kíli watched as his blonde-haired brother plummeted quickly down the lengthy distance between them, his arms and legs flailing about him in failed attempts to ease his descend. With quick reaction Kíli lunged forward, his heart pounding rapidly within his chest, twisting and reaching out to catch Fíli roughly within his arms. Subsequently the duo slid across the icy ground, drifting aimlessly across the rough, cold floor in a tangled pile of leather, armor, hair, swords, arrows, and dwarves.
"Fíli!" Kíli managed to groan, straightening his back along the rigid stone floor as the chill of the winter's crisp air settled around their freshly aching and battered bodies.
"F-Fíli?" Kíli croaked again, this time flicking his gaze onto his brother's body with anticipation, expecting to find him in the form of a crippled mess. The raven-haired prince was overcome with pride to instead discover that his blonde counterpart appeared to be momentarily adrift, but hardly battered.
Fíli released a painful gasp in response to his brother's second outcry as he rolled onto his side, clutching at the neck of his thin armor. Kíli's concern vanished instantly at the sight of Fíli's intact condition and he regained his stolen strength immediately. With a sharp inhale the younger prince drew himself upright onto his elbows and forced the cold air back out through gritted teeth. He would count his blessings now, while he had a moment, and try not to dwell on what could have been…
"That was… close. Too close. What happened?" Fíli finally asked, his voice quivering as he glanced with inquiry up towards the crest of the tower from whence he came.
"An… elven arrow…" Kíli responded after a span of silence, his words trailing off as his heart fluttered unexpectedly.
Tauriel.
Pressing his rough, large hands into the frozen ground, the brunette-haired dwarf propelled himself up onto his feet and gripped at the hilt of his sword, unsheathing it with proficiency and determination. Fíli followed suit, albeit slightly slower, drawing dual swords from his back. Together, once again ready to fight like the born warriors they were, the brothers looked surprisingly deadly for their size.
"We must find Thorin," Fíli pressed urgently, darting quickly towards a long, twisting stairway that led up into the higher levels of the fortress, "this way!"
As Kíli ascended after his brother's trail a goblin screech pierced through the cold, whipping wind in an immediate response to Fíli's sword as it sliced across the nape of the foul creature's neck. Kíli jumped to the side as the goblin's limp body rolled down the stairway, shooting the brute an almost apologetic look for his untimely demise.
Once the brothers reached the top of the stairway a small battle ensued with both Fíli and Kíli plunging and darting their weapons in, out, and around the bodies of the wretched horde of goblins. Black blood painted the stone floor of the abandoned tower as the duo fought; the battle eventually ending with a long, sputtering cry emitting from the mouth of a goblin as it fell lifelessly against Kíli's outstretched blade. Fíli flashed Kíli an approving look, slapping his hand against his brother's arm before leading him onward.
After a short run through winding, deteriorating hallways the brothers burst through the entrance of the fallen fortress out onto a long, icy platform where their wandering eyes searched eagerly for their missing King.
As they stood, breathing heavily in their break of battle, Fíli grabbed aggressively at Kíli's arm, pointing out toward the edge of the stone tower. Off in the distance the brothers could discern two very separate figures belonging to Thorin and Azog; both dancing within a heated battle along the bank of the frozen water. Kíli quickly drew his bow as he watched his uncle and the giant orc ferociously bash against one another with clashing weapons - but their distance proved too great for his arrows.
"Quickly," Fíli breathed, ushering his brother to the side with the intention to lead him out towards the quarrel.
"KILL THEM ALL!" An unexpected cry echoed, traveling out from within the hallways of the stone tower.
This particular voice, bold and aggressive, was easily recognizable as belonging to the distinguished goblin leader Bolg, son of Azog. Bolg, Kíli recalled, was widely acclaimed for mirroring his father in brutality while doubling his father in repulsiveness.
The brothers paused in their race and exchanged quick, purposeful looks. Fíli's expression morphed into bleakness as he watched his brother's eyes flick longingly up towards the tower, dreading the reality of his stare.
"No." Began Fíli, reaching for Kíli's arm protectively.
"Go now," Kíli motioned towards the water's edge, pushing his brother away with his stern, unfaltering gaze, "I will finish this."
"Kee…" Fíli argued, his eyes filling with a familiar protective fondness that only Kíli would comprehend.
Kíli's entire life had been spent at his brother's side. They played together, trained together, fought together, and loved one another with a fierceness that could not be broken or matched. Their bond, much stronger than most, had proven time and again to be the greatest weapon they both possessed; and yet here they stood, during the most important battle of their young lives, forced to toss that powerful bond aside.
"Go to Thorin." Kíli pleaded, his words breaking free in the tone of a whisper. "You have to."
Despite his contradicting will, fueled by his understandable fears and apprehensions for his brother, Fíli's kingly instincts took hold of his body and forced his feet to back away in the direction of Thorin's aid. Somewhere, deep down inside of the elder royal heir, there laid a certainty that Kíli - despite his skill with bow and blade - could never best a foe such as Bolg.
"Be safe, my brother!" Fíli called out in the tongue of their people as Kíli barreled into a sprint, disappearing back into the halls of the decaying fortress.
Kíli traveled through the Ravenhill passages, nimble and swift, slashing and slaughtering his way through a horde of goblins. He repeated the motions of laying his blade deep into their bellies, across their skulls, through their heads, and down around their ears as he climbed, further and further up and around the winding halls and stairwells. His encounters with the goblin army seemed to grow thinner and thinner as he flew, leaving a stream of hope within the dwarf prince's mind as each new enemy fell to his blade.
"Kíli!"
Kíli's ears twitched as a misplaced cry impeded his feet, causing the dwarf to glance desperately about him with wide, determined eyes. It can't be…
As he strained his ears, waiting for the call once again, two goblins descended from higher ground and surrounded the unsuspecting prince, momentarily catching him inattentive. He responded quickly by turning and stabbing the first goblin swiftly in the left shoulder, then ducked down to avoid a crushing blow while plunging his blade into the side of the second goblin. As the second fowl soul fell Kíli spun expertly around on his heels and hooked his arm around the remaining goblin's neck, shoving his sword deep into the creature's spine.
"Kíli!"
Kíli froze once again, his blade now buried deep inside the back of the dying and sputtering goblin. This time he knew, without a doubt, that his ears had not deceived him.
"Tauriel!" He screamed out, pulling his blade free from the goblin's writhing body and spinning wildly around. His dark brown eyes searched eagerly through the relentless, thick fog, straining to catch sight of the fiery-haired she-elf.
Kíli's heart plummeted as he located Tauriel several flights down, battling a horde of goblins atop a distant platform. He watched with bated breath as the she-elf took down the last surrounding enemy, plunging her dual daggers deep into the top of the orc's skull. Finally, as Kíli moved to the edge of the wall, their determined gazes locked onto one another; and fierce green longingly clashed into gentle brown. A shockwave of adrenaline rushed throughout the young dwarf prince's entire body as he drank her in, captivated and fearful.
"Amrâlimê." Kíli muttered softly, knowing that her elven ears would hear him.
Tauriel's lips parted slightly as the corners of her mouth began to curl up into a soft, weak smile; but the moment was disrupted by a deep, savage laugh as it emitted from the passageway alongside the unsuspecting elf. Before Tauriel had time to react Bolg's hulking foot launched aggressively into the she-elf's midriff, heaving her entire body limply into the side of an icy stairwell.
Kíli released a distressed gasp as he rushed forward at the sight, his hand instinctively stretching outward as if he could ease the distant blow. Bolg's blue and white eyes flicked up toward Kíli as the dwarf observed the small battle, followed by a disgusting smile of pleasure stretching across the orc's disfigured face.
Fury scorched like fresh poison throughout the dwarf prince's veins as a new determination overwhelmed him. A dwarven war-cry roared from deep within his lungs as Kíli swiftly made his way down the stairs, barrel rolling under the attack of a goblin while driving his sharp blade across the back of the creature's legs. When he was satisfied that the enemy was slain, he turned his attention back onto the she-elf; his stomach immediately churning at the sight of Bolg holding Tauriel by the throat, elevating her limp body high above the ground.
A transient look of fear flicked across the elf's face as she stared down the goblin's large forearm, and she swayed in and out of consciousness as her breath began to desert her. Somehow, amidst the chaos and pain, Tauriel managed to drive her foot forward into the creature's large thigh, buying her a brief moment of freedom as she crumbled down onto the stone floor.
Kíli's legs fell into a frantic sprint as he dodged the slashing blades of several determined goblins and outran black arrows as they rained down around his dancing heels. The sound of his boot's slipping and colliding against the ancient stone floor echoed throughout the fortress, leaving an obvious trail in his wake.
He was so close, they were only a bit further…
Tauriel, completely spent and lacking in strength, drew her dagger swiftly from her hip and rushed towards Bolg with a weak ferocity that the goblin leader easily smacked away with no adversity. The she-elf's weapon soared freely from her grip, sliding over the edge of the slick platform and plummeting down towards the snowy earth below. Once Tauriel was successfully disarmed Bolg brought a strong, heavy elbow down against her left shoulder and threw her, head first, into the stone wall. A crooked smile then twisted to life across the goblin leader's face as he slowly approached Tauriel's writhing, heaving body. He paused beside her, hovering over the she-elf like a starving warg, and slowly raising the sharp end of his mace high above his head with a menacing purpose.
Using the last of his energy Kíli threw himself over the edge of the final ledge between himself and Bolg, bringing his sword protectively down around the goblin's giant mace and arms while successfully blocking the hulking creature's attempt to pierce through Tauriel's chest. Bolg was taken aback by the swift, interrupting ambush and he instinctively heaved Kíli forward, causing the dwarf to painfully collide in an agonizing heap against the stone floor.
Kíli's breath evacuated his chest and his eyelids drifted slowly shut as his body reacted to the impact. A sharp pain shot upwards and throughout his entire body as the oxygen left his lungs; and for a genuine, fleeting moment the dwarf prince was uncertain that he could congregate the power to lift himself again.
A small, muted scream escaped Tauriel's lips, causing Kíli's eyes to flicker open and glance out towards her. The tragic sight of the beautiful elf, collapsed in physical agony at the base of the crumbling tower wall, urgently sparked life back into the dwarf prince's heart. He wouldn't let her die. He couldn't.
Gasping for air, Kíli thrust himself back onto his feet with a freshly impassioned determination. The brown eyed dwarf prince then barreled forward into Bolg's body, throwing his sword across the goblin leader's chest and ducking down as the creature's giant mace flew dangerously close to the top of his raven-haired head. Kili plunged his sword forward in one final, desperate attempt at ending the ongoing battle - but Bolg was much faster than the dwarf prince had anticipated. In a matter of seconds the goblin's large fist pounded unexpectedly against Kíli's brow, knocking the dwarf's head backwards and allowing Bolg time to pin the young prince between his large knee and hand, pressing Kíli into captivity.
Every sound, both loud and soft, alleviated into silence as Kíli's perception of the world began to fade in and out of existence. His sword, once nothing short of an appendage, slipped slowly from his limp hand and fell to the ground with a vibrating clatter. Through his blurred, failing vision, Kíli watched with hopelessness as Bolg lifted his mace with murderous determination high above the dwarf's heaving chest.
Hot tears pooled within the corners of Kíli's eyes, sliding down his cheeks as an image of Tauriel flashed before his vision.
I would have loved you forever…
A warrior cry burst through Tauriel's clenched teeth as she gathered the end of her fleeting strength and drew herself up, launching herself onto Bolg's back while pulling at the blunt end of his mace.
The goblin leader released his grip on Kíli, who fell into a listless heap on the cold stone floor. The motionless prince watched helplessly as Tauriel spun her body around Bolg's neck, kicked her heels into the stone wall, and forced both herself and the giant goblin to fall over the edge of the high tower.
"NO!" The dwarf managed to scream.
Then Kíli, son of Durin, succumbed to the lure of a peaceful darkness.
Kíli tossed his talisman up into the air, watching with interest as the small, dark stone captured the dimming lights of the Elven prison, flashing the yellow glow along its black surface. A smile stretched weakly across the creases of his stubble-covered cheeks as Kíli recalled the exact moment his mother had thrust the small token into his palm; flashing him a look full of warning and love as she held him within her arms. The young prince had been quick to inquire if Fíli had also been forced into making any "unbreakable promises", to which his mother begrudgingly reminded Kili that he was the more "irrational son" of the two.
Look, Mother, he quietly mused, capturing the stone stilly within his hands while glancing past the bars of his enclosure, I'm a prisoner of Woodland Elves; but most certainly secure and intact, as you very much wished!
A sudden pang of sadness flared throughout Kíli's veins as he sat, cold and alone in his singular cell, crudely reminding him of how greatly he missed his stubborn, relentless, over-protective mother. He missed the way that she rolled her eyes at him, or smacked the back of his head when he was being unruly. He missed the soft kisses she would plant across his forehead when he was acting sweetly, and how she laughed so loudly and merrily at his occasional foolishness. He missed her singing. He missed her hugs. And above all, he missed her smile.
"The stone in your hand," a voice, much like a beautiful melody, challenged from beyond the bars of his enclosure, "what is it?"
Kíli's eyes winced up towards the she-elf with caution from where he perched, simmering amidst the murky shadows at the corner of his jail cell. He was quick to recognize the elf, simply by the tenderness of her tone, long before his eyes had adjusted to the narrow peaks that defined her fair face. This particular elf, who had been a rather key component in their earlier capture, was proving to be an increasingly prickly Elven thorn within the dwarven companies' side.
As Kili stared at her, drinking in the view of her creamy complexion, his unguarded demeanor began to slowly dissipate. His expression grew soft as the elf's fair, pale skin and long, rose-tinged hair awoke homey memories within the dwarf prince's heart; memories of glowing, crisp fires and sweet, warm honey brew.
"It is a talisman," he said casually, voice deeper than usual, watching as the elf captain's enchanting face morphed from an expression of mild suspicion into a look of profound interest. He was taken aback by her discernible shift in engagement, and her curious, unanticipated reaction compelled the young prince to continue. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone…" he began to shake his head back and forth, acting as if he was visualizing a terrible memory, then shoved the stone toward her and warned, "they will be forever cursed!"
The she-elf jumped slightly, glancing about her with an apparent edginess. She then took a swift step backwards and began to turn away from the dwarf, sighing with dismay.
Kíli bit down on his lower lip, inwardly tackling down the rising urge to chuckle as it formed within the pit of his belly. "Or not!" He called after her, causing the elf to hesitate. "Depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing, it's just a token."
His cold expression warmed into a grin as the she-elf turned her focus back onto him, flicking her green eyes cautiously down onto his face. She visibly softened at the sight of his smile, drawing herself slowly toward him.
"A rune stone," he finally answered with honesty, bouncing his eyes from her, to the talisman, then back up onto the elf's elegant face, "my Mother gave it to me so I would remember my promise."
The she-elf tilted her head with an earnest attentiveness, bowing slightly forward as if to share with him a precious secret. "What promise?"
"That I would come back to her." He replied with a shrug, tossing the stone into the air and catching it between his rough hands. "She worries. She thinks I'm reckless."
To his surprise the lovely she-elf indulged his nonsensical ramblings and furrowed her brow, stealing a glance towards the floor with deep consideration. "Are you?"
Kíli pondered the question for a moment, twisting his lips into a frown.
Am I reckless? And how!
"Nah." He decided eagerly, tossing the stone once again into the air; this time deliberately missing the token as it careened back down towards his hands. The talisman tumbled to the ground with an echoing clatter and promptly rolled beneath the cell's imprisoning gate. Kíli watched with anticipation as the token journeyed swiftly out towards the edge of the hallway; relief flowing through him as the she-elf stopped the stone's adventure with her foot.
The dwarf prince slowly rose to his feet and approached the edge of his cell, closing his hands tightly around the iron bars of the enclosure as the elf delicately lifted the stone from the ground. The edges of his lips twitched up into a small smile as he watched her explore the token, intrigued by the way she twisted the stone throughout her fingers with acute examination.
To the average observer it was nothing but a simple, dull task that the she-elf performed - but, oh, how it disconcerted Kíli in ways that he had never known possible…
Kíli's entire life had been filled with one particular image of the elven race; an image that had been expertly painted by the spewing hatred from his Uncle and fellow kin. An image that, until this day, Kíli had been non-the-wiser to deny. "Elves are simple, cruel, and self-centered creatures – never, ever to be trusted!" Some would say. "Elves are evil!" Whispered others. "Elves are selfish!" Exclaimed many. "Elves are hateful, fowl beings that will never measure up to the loyalty or honor of dwarves!" And, of course… "Mahal, they are the most grotesque, hairless, appalling looking creatures!"
And Kíli, captive to the halls of his kin for the first 77 years of his life, had both blindly and unfalteringly believed in every element of these fabrications… until now. Now, as he looked upon the she-elf before him, Kíli dared to question his uncle – his King – and everything he had ever been told.
"How could you be described as anything other than beautiful?" Kíli mused aloud, much to his immediate horror.
The elf captain paused her examination of the stone and quirked an attentive eyebrow. "What was that, Dwarf?" She inquired, closing her fingers around the stone and lowering it to her side.
Standing where he now stood the dwarf prince could make out the distant sounds of a cheery melody, mixed with loud guffaws and clinking goblets, trickling down from the fortress rafters. Clinging to the sounds, he chuckled nervously and gestured towards the upper hallways. "Ahem – I… it just… it sounds like … like quite a party you're having up there."
He could feel the heat growing beneath the light stubble of his face, and Kíli prayed to all Seven of the Fathers that the she-elf had not heard his inappropriate ramblings…
The elf captain was quiet for a span, looking rather amused by the flush of his cheeks.
"It is Mereth-en-Gilith. The feast of starlight." She eventually enlightened, glancing up towards the source of the sounds and allowing Kíli a pardoning moment. "All light is sacred to the Eldar, but wood elves love best the light of the stars."
Kíli pressed his temples against the iron bars of his hold, absentmindedly drinking in her every word. He had never, in his entire life, encountered a being so angelic and pure; and, Mahal, the way she spoke! The harmony of her voice paired with the poetry of her words made his heart drum to an inspired cadence, and somehow everything began to look different.
"I always thought it is a cold light," said Kíli just above a whisper, causing her to turn and gaze upon him in awe, "remote and far away."
"It is memory!" The she-elf retorted in a sad, pernicious tone. "Precious and pure."
Kíli felt his stomach twist with incitement as the elf floated back towards him, stopping short of the iron bars that divided them.
"Like your promise."
The elf captain held her hand out towards Kíli with a tender smile, balancing the stone gently between her grip. Kíli ran his hand through the gap of the prison bars and grabbed gingerly at the stone, capturing the softness of her palm at the tips of his fingers. She felt unnaturally warm, he decided, though the heat was inviting and pleasant.
The she-elf turned away once again, promenading as though she meant to depart, then paused and spun back toward the dwarf with a new, excited joy in her eyes. "I have walked there sometimes! Beyond the forest and up into the night - I have seen the world fall away, and the white light of forever fill the air..."
Kíli put forth an effort to picture the sight, attempting to summon a true comparison to the magnificence of her story.
"I saw fire moon once." He started cautiously, hoping his words would be sufficient enough in grasping her interest. "It rose over the pass near the Dunland. Huge! Red and gold, it was. It filled the sky."
The she-elf drifted back toward him - her attention secured to his every word - and she gracefully placed herself in a seated position upon the steps adjacent to his cell.
Kíli beamed at her attentiveness, pocketing his rune stone in preparation for the tale ahead.
"We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin. They were trading in silverwork for furs." He started, leaning his shoulder against the bars of his cell as he twisted to face her. "We took the greenway South, keeping the mountain to our left. And then… it appeared. This huge fire moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you the caverns - I could not describe their magnitude with words. You must see them to understand…"
"Perhaps I will travel there, one day." Said the elf, inclining her head slightly.
Kíli grinned, hooking his thumb into his chest and offering her a subtle wink, "you will need a dwarf companion to guide you, I'm afraid."
"You underestimate the will of an elf! We have a keen sense of direction." She countered, her voice laced with phony disappointment. "Have you learned nothing in your travels?"
Kíli shied away from her gaze and rubbed a rough hand against the back of his neck, flustered by her query. "You are… the first elf I have had the pleasure of meeting."
Kíli had encountered the elves of Rivendell once, several months prior when the Company had accidentally stumbled across the High-Elves' beautiful lands, but he had kept very much to himself under the watchful eye of his uncle. It would have been unwise to attempt an interaction with the elves, being as his kin so vehemently detested them; unlike now, where his uncle was absent and his kin was unreachable.
"It is not a very pleasant meeting." The she-elf examined, her voice absent of emotion.
"Ah, but I'm quite enjoying myself now." Began Kili, trailing off as he realized how absurd he likely sounded to his surrounding kin; only now taking the time to recognize the entire dwarven company likely honing in on his every word.
Once he had acknowledged their doubtless eavesdropping Kíli found that he could not bring himself to care, and thus continued. "And what of you? How many dwarves have been imprisoned by the captain of the Elven Guard?"
"Countless." She started, a playful twinkle sparkling within the leafy green edges of her eyes.
Kíli allowed himself a chuckle before folding his arms comfortably across his chest. "Countless!? How fortunate for them."
The she-elf was quiet for a span, narrowing her eyes upon Kíli's face with an apparent curiosity. The dwarf felt a vulnerability begin to grow beneath her intense inspection and he quickly drew in a shaky breath, muttering, "what?"
The elf bashfully retracted her eyes, reverting them towards the wall. "Forgive me. You are much taller than any dwarf I have encountered."
Kíli blinked in shock at her observation and straightened himself with a sudden tinge of pride. "My father is the tallest dwarf in our lineage…" He hesitated, realizing that he was about to divulge into aspects of his life that he had not visited in over a half of a century. "Was. He was the tallest. He died, many years ago."
"I am … sorry." She offered, the sincerity of her voice drawing surprise.
"He died an honorable death. I hope to join him, one day… fighting for my people." Kíli addressed, disliking the solemn tone that their exchange was morphing into. "Death by spider would have been wonderful for the books, y'know? Imagine the songs …"
"The songs?" The elf repeated, catching his teasing tone. "Would you have preferred I not interfere?"
"I would have preferred you to have thrown me a dagger." Said Kíli with a grin. "You would be impressed with my skills, I assure you."
"I am impressed with your confidence, Dwarf, I will grant you that." The she-elf said sweetly, shooting him a calculated smile. "Furthermore, I would not rob you of the chance to return to your mother, alive."
"She will be pleased to know of your generosity." The dwarf prince smirked, intrigued by the sudden eagerness within his heart. "I will very much enjoy re-telling her of you."
"Will you mention this in your tales?" Inquired the elf, tapping the iron bars of Kíli's enclosure for emphasis.
Kíli belly-laughed, causing the elf's demeaner to soften even further. Once he had re-established his breathing, the dwarf prince straightened and shook his head. "It would be for the best that I keep this our little secret. You wouldn't enjoy Mother when she is angry. Very ferocious, for her size."
The she-elf pressed her lips tightly together, fighting off an adorably charming giggle.
"You are…" She trailed off, struggling to capture the words.
"Handsome beyond compare?" Kíli tried, capturing her gaze.
"Entirely unexpected."
Their eyes locked and a few timeless moments passed wherein Kíli felt the earth shift beneath him; and all at once, like a heavy fog drifting towards the sky, everything felt different.
"Ah - yes. It's the beard." Kíli laughed nervously, rubbing his hand across the short hairs of his chin. "Fret not, when it grows in – and it will – I expect to be just as intimidating as my uncle Thorin."
The she-elf's eyes widened for a fleeting moment as if she suddenly looked upon Kíli with a new awareness.
"Uncle? You are also an heir of Durin…" she started, telling more-so than inquiring. "What brings your kin so far East? So far from your home?"
"Home?" Echoed Kíli, flinching as his voice began to tremble with passion. "We know not of home. We journey to reclaim our home."
The she-elf's eyes had gone soft and her mouth formed a hard line. Kíli remained silent, sensing that he had touched upon something that greatly affected her. Then a voice, echoing down from somewhere high above them, interrupted their exchange.
"Tula sinome, Tauriel."
The she-elf swiftly arose, turning her attention upward. Kíli's gaze followed suit, and his ears grew hot as he looked upon yet another familiar elf face. This elf had been a large part of their early attack on the dwarves, and he seemed to be highly ranking among his people. He wasn't the king, Kíli was certain, but there was a great possibility that he fell somewhere closely beneath that title.
"Tula, vasa ar' yulna en i'mereth." The male elf continued tersely, speaking directly to the she-elf. Kíli, though not versed in Sindarin, could discern a slight irritation laced within the elf's voice.
"Amin tulien, hîr nín Legolas." The she-elf responded, shooting Kíli a cautioned glance. The dwarf prince swallowed dryly as she turned and made for the stairway.
"Tauriel?" Kíli called after her, hoping that he had successfully made his way through the strange, unfamiliar elven language and caught wind of her name correctly. The she-elf paused, glancing back toward him with surprise. Kíli grinned with delight, barely containing his excitement. "I am Kíli."
Tauriel, as he now knew her, nodded her head cordially. Then, in a way so swiftly that only an elf could be graceful, she straightened her shoulders and continued her escape. Kíli watched after her as she ascended the stairs, his heart feeling heavier with every passing moment.
"Careful, lad." Balin cautioned from the cell adjacent to Kíli's, feeling it was due time that he asserted himself.
Kíli's ears twitched and his tongue twisted playfully within his mouth as he took the elder dwarf's warning to heart.
"Do not worry, Balin," said Kíli, pressing his forehead into the bars of his encloser while wearing a foolish grin, "if she falls in love with me, perhaps she will let us out."
Somewhere to his left, hidden within a separate cell, Kíli could hear the familiar chords of Fíli's amused chuckle.
Kíli's eyes shot open as his breath furiously erupted past his dry, cracked lips with a long and painful gasp. Reality tugged him achingly forward as his dream world faded rapidly away, leading the dwarf prince back onto the frozen and empty terrace of Ravenhill.
No…
Kili pleaded with the sky as his vision cleared, revealing his lonely state on the platform. A fierce panic flooding like an all-consuming storm throughout the dwarf prince's body as he recalled the last cognizant moments of his life; the moments where he had watched, horrified and helplessly, as Tauriel and Bolg had toppled over the edge of the tower.
The jarred dwarf prince rolled slowly onto his knees, ignoring the aches of his back as they cried out in protest, and he made his way towards the end of the tower, crawling through the dispersing fog. He curled his hands protectively around the lip of the cliff, leaning as far forward as his balance would allow, scanning his eyes tirelessly down the long descend. Disheartened by his failure to catch sight of Tauriel, a worrisome chill twisted through the base of Kíli's spine as he feared the absolute worst…
A sudden discordant sound of giant beating wings tugged the dwarf prince's eyes upward and away from their futile search. I know that sound… Kíli peered up towards the sky in mild confusion as three enormous birds made their way towards the still raging battle, soaring against the brisk wintry air into the heart of Dale. The Eagles...
His chest filled with a warm ambition at the sight of the large, flying allies; perchance they would reverse the war into a victorious outcome.
With new inspiration Kíli brought his hands onto his knees, drawing himself upwards with a cautioned wince. He was immediately delighted to discover that standing upward proved to be less painful than he had anticipated and he silently thanked Mahal for the hardiness of dwarves. With a steady heart he then gathered up his weapons, along with what remained of his waning strength, and burst into a sprint towards the twisting halls of the crumbling fortress.
Kíli's bow was drawn with anticipation as he crept quietly through the tower, eager to reach Ravenhill's base and reunite with his kin. He managed to shoot down three goblins as he moved, despite his mind's loud and incessant inquiries that refused to be ignored; how long had he been paralyzed and lost within the walls of his own mind? Would Thorin and Fíli still be engaged in battle? Did Bolg survive the fall? Did Tauriel…
Tauriel is fine.
Kíli's gut wrenched violently as he recalled the image of the beautiful she-elf lying in agony at the bottom of the wall with Bolg's knife-like mace raised high above her head with a deadly promise.
"Tauriel is fine." He repeated aloud, intending to chase the image away with the sternness of his voice. As he spoke a dark shadow unexpectedly flashed across the stone walls of the stairway below him, cutting the distance surprisingly quickly. Much quicker, he noted, than any goblin ever could.
Kíli held his breath and rooted his feet into the ground as he pulled tightly back on the string of his bow, his fingers now itching to release the arrow into the heart of his approaching enemy. He watched in silence as the shadow shifted left, then right, then darted aggressively upward, making its ascend across the final flight of stairs between them.
The dwarf prince flinched as the offender rounded the final corner, welcoming Kíli with a golden-tipped arrow pointed squarely between his dark brown eyes.
"Kíli," Tauriel said softly, releasing her bated breath.
Kíli offered her an amused smile as they both lowered their bows, mirroring relief.
"You have wasted an awful lot of time saving me if you plan to kill me now." He said with a smirk.
Tauriel twitched the corners of her mouth upward in response, though it was an overtly tired attempt. The beautiful she-elf appeared uncharacteristically weary and she had long past spent her vigor; evidently only gathering enough power to climb through Ravenhill's towers to find him.
"Are you badly injured?" Asked Kíli softly, noting the gash on her right temple with concern.
"I will manage." Tauriel assured, squaring her shoulders and feigning stability. "And you?"
"I have never felt better." Kíli insisted, taking a step toward her as his hands began to tremble.
Despite their stubborn pride, both the dwarf prince and the she-elf were plainly exhausted.
A cold wind lashed inward from the broken window to their left, whipping Tauriel's fiery hair wildly around her in an otherworldly kind of way. The sight of it gave the she-elf an ethereal look that dismantled Kíli's poise entirely, causing his heart to drum loudly within his ears.
Wetting his lips, the dwarf prince whispered with longing, "Tauriel…"
Tauriel began to shoot Kíli a calculating look, but the adoring beam within his eyes managed to sway her emotions. With a flush the she-elf gestured down the stairwell behind her and murmured, "we must lea-"
With little time to react Kíli promptly lifted his bow up towards the she-elf's head and released an arrow into the throat of a pouncing goblin. The vile creature crumbled to the ground in a sputtering heap as it choked down the black blood now dripping from its lips, managing to release a loud, shrill cry before Tauriel silenced it with her dagger. Both the dwarf prince and she-elf exchanged dismal, grim looks as the alerting cry echoed throughout the tower's hallways.
Kíli took a shuddering breath inward as a horde of goblins poured in through both the front and back entrances of the small enclosure, thrashing and swinging their way towards the unsuspecting pair.
Tauriel was quick to react by fleetly rolling forward, ducking beneath the slash of a goblin's blade, and pressing her back firmly against Kíli's. Like a well-oiled machine the duo activated the speed of their individual bow skills, dropping orc's left and right as the creatures viciously rushed into the room. Kíli's arms began to burn as he pulled arrows from his quiver, one by one, while listening with mindful ears to the bloodshed caused by the she-elf battling behind him. The room filled with the raucous screams and hisses of countless goblins as they fell quickly and painfully to their deaths; yet Kíli found comfort within the familiar, rhythmic sound of his bow string as it hummed with every stretch and release, despite the strident sounds of the tiring battle. And eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the bombardment ultimately came to a quiet and tranquil ending.
Kíli leaned himself gingerly into Tauriel's back, succumbing to his exhaustion while laboriously breathing. His hands fell tiredly at his sides, one clutching loosely to his bow and the other remaining empty. The she-elf stood silently behind him and placed three tired fingers against his empty, quivering palm in a reassuring gesture.
"War still rages. Where are your people?" Tauriel pressed in a tired whisper. Kíli gasped at the mention of his kin with a grim expression and then hooked his hand around Tauriel's forearm, leading her hastily around the pile of dead orc bodies at their feet.
Together they ran, through the icy hallways and down the winding stairwells, eventually traveling out onto the long stretch of muted ice where Kíli had watched his uncle and Azog's earlier battle take place. The smell of death welcomed them as they approached the silent battleground, and the dwarf prince's heart plummeted at the sight of the surrounding massacre; though he wasted no time in wading through the long, vast assortment of goblin bodies in search of a familiar face.
"FÍLI! THORIN!" He called out, watching as a slow stream of hot air floated listlessly up from his mouth and traveled out into the crisp sky. The snowy chill from the ice-covered lake brought a physical quiver up through Kíli's boots as he began to grow weak with despair and desperation. "Where - where is my uncle? Where is my brother…"
The dwarf prince fell into silence as Tauriel's warm hand dropped onto his shoulder, sending Kíli's stomach into a sour state. He glanced cautiously up to her with questioning eyes, fearing what he already knew, and he was urgently dispirited to see a ghastly, transparent paleness to the she-elf's face as she nodded towards the edge of the lake. Kíli hesitantly drew his gaze out to where the water lapped lazily against the icy earth, and his greatest fears morphed into the harshest of realities when his eyes found Fíli's body.
"No! NO!" The dwarf prince cried out, dropping his bow as he darted across the ice and slid to his knees alongside his brother's motionless body. Kíli took Fíli's head gently up into his arms and he pulled his brother close, rocking back and forth as an uncontrollable shiver overwhelmed his entire body. "No… Fíli… Fíli! You can't - you can't do this! You can't leave me! Look at me… please."
Tauriel was quick at his heels, kneeling down beside Kili and lifting Fíli's bloodied hand up into her own.
Kíli fought back rising tears as Tauriel examined a fresh, deep gash that traveled deeply along the blonde dwarf's arm. The she-elf's concerned expression shifted as she touched Fíli's warm skin, noting how it still pulsed with the faint drum of life. "He is alive," she said with certainty, ripping at the fabric along the bottom of her green military garb before fastening the cloth into a makeshift tourniquet. Kíli offered her a thankful glance as he gripped Fíli's other hand, trapping it protectively between his palms.
"I'm here, Fee." He whispered lowly, more-so to himself.
The sudden jarring sound of a pebble rolling aimlessly across the ice brought both Kíli and Tauriel cautiously to their feet, causing Kíli to halfway draw his sword in preparation for yet another battle. And, in truth, he wasn't sure he had the strength for many more thrashings on this day…
"Sheathe your weapon, dwarf."
Both Kíli and Tauriel relaxed as the silhouette of Legolas cleared among the fog, looking slightly disheveled but also queerly intact. The tall elf made his way elegantly towards them, gliding over the ample collection of goblin bodies and black blood that draped across the ice, and he glanced down upon Fíli's body with a noticeable wince.
"Thorin has fallen." Legolas said at last, speaking to Tauriel but flicking his gaze onto Kíli with a meager, true sadness. "Even so, the battle is won."
Kíli's jaw tightened as he stared down at his brother with a poisonous mixture of both relief and anguish; hot, stinging tears collecting at the corners of his hazel eyes as he watched Fíli's chest calmly rise and fall with each labored breath.
With a gentle caution Kíli once again knelt forward and reached for his brother's hand, surprised to discover a rain of salty drops landing softly atop the fabric of Fíli's light armor. Uncontrollable, heavy, sobs suddenly followed suit, breaking free from Kíli's chest as he fell helplessly victim to the overwhelming exhaustion that engulfed his quivering body. Kíli drew Fíli's hand slowly up to his face and pressed it lovingly against his forehead, frozen by the painful realization that their lives were now altered forever; for it was now apparent to Kíli that Fíli would soon awaken, battered and warn, as the new King under the Mountain.
A/N: The Elven exchange between Legolas and Tauriel was found (both online and through the movies) and translates (roughly) into:
"Come here, Tauriel. Come, eat and drink of the feast."
"I am coming, my lord Legolas."