Notes: So, huge shout out to the amazing reviews on the last chapter. I know I'm terrible at keeping up with regular updates, but the only reason I even keep trying is for and because of you guys, and because somewhere in me I know this is a story that needs to be told. I apologize for tormenting you guys last chapter with the literal cliff hanger, but i quite enjoyed writing it! This one was a little tougher to hammer out, so I hope you enjoy it. Again, thank you so much for the support, much love. 3

Chapter Fifteen: Through Shadows Falling

May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Morniл utъliл
Believe and you will find your way
Morniл alantiл
A promise lives within you now

May it Be, Enya

Cold and pain; Tauriel's world condensed around then, became them.

She was suffocating in the oppressive darkness, her lungs burning with need, but she was too far gone, too lost to fight. There was something… something out there worth remembering, worth trying for, if only she could remember. If she could only manage to hold onto it. But she couldn't even seem to recall her own name, no matter how hard she tried to grasp at it, so she let the thought go. She let herself go, and in the distance she could see a hint of calm ocean and green shores, welcoming her, inviting her, and promising her rest.

Light invaded without warning, and she shrank back from it, afraid and confused. But it reached for her, enveloped her, and the pain receded.

You are dying, a sweet voice said and it was like a warm summer wind in tall grass, or the soft swaying of the trees on a calm, clear night. Oh, how you have suffered my child, and I am sorry for it, but there is more yet for you to do. You cannot give up, he will need you… before the end.

There came a tugging sensation in her breast, as though a string were attached to her heart, and it pulled her up and away, that fair shore receding until it was entirely gone.

You must fight, my child. You must not give up! He will need you to be strong, for he cannot walk this path alone.

The tugging sensation intensified and the light began to fade away. The pain returned in its wake with insistent, eager fingers, and she was nearly robbed of herself again.

You must fight!

Tauriel broke the surface of the water, gasping weakly as a soft tide washed her onto a rocky bank.

She lay there on her back, the water sweeping up to her waist then away again, for what might have been hours or days, attempting to understand what had happened to her through fragmented thoughts and broken memories.

A child crying; black blood on her hands, hot and foul; sliding across the ice, reaching, grasping, holding. Then… falling; cold… so cold. Little of it made any sort of sense to her.

She blinked her eyes open, lids feeling heavy and bruised, and hissed, raising a hand to shield her eyes. The sun was too bright, the pain too intense, and the blackness beckoned, promising respite.

A voice echoed through her mind, like the faint tolling of a distant bell. You must not give up, child of the stars. Beneath stone and sky, he will need you. You must not give up!

Kíli's face shown in her mind like a beacon breaking through the gloom, a soft smile on his lips and a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. It was enough to jolt her fully into awareness, gasping and trembling as the memories fit together and she recalled her terrible fall and all that had proceeded it.

She shifted and cried out, the ribs on her left side little more than a sharp stabbing pain, her left wrist like a burning coal beneath the skin, and her left leg a twisted thing of agony that she could hardly comprehend. Dizzy and sick, she collapsed again and forced her mind into a place of distant calculation, letting several hundred years of training take stock of her situation.

Several of her ribs were certainly broken, anything but slow shallow breaths painful and strained. Her wrist and leg were also severely damaged, a cursory glance down her body showed part of her femur had punctured the skin, a grisly protrusion from her torn trousers that nearly made her vomit. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at her wrist, afraid its condition might push her over the edge where she already precariously teetered.

Swallowing thickly she gathered herself again, concluding that she had likely sustained some head trauma, though its severity was hard to separate and pinpoint. Nearly every part of her body was caught in varying degrees of agony, and she was terribly, terribly cold. Experience had taught her that the elements could kill a person just as surely as any wound, and she certainly had plenty of those.

But, despite the sheer impossibility of it, she was alive.

She knew, however, as one knows that the sun will rise and the moon will shine, that she should not have survived the fall. The distance had been too great and the river too turbulent. Yet… here she was, more or less whole. She would not remain alive for long, she knew, if she did not find shelter and help soon. The sun was already dipping toward the tree line and the temperature would fall swiftly after it.

Using her good arm she sat up, the pain in her ribs doubling so that she had to breathe raggedly through a wave of dizziness, and slowly pulled herself completely out of the river until her back met the trunk of a tree. She slumped for a long while, trying to gain some strength and develop a survival strategy.

The area around her was unfamiliar. She could see no hint of the mountains above towering trees on either side of the river, where the water ran slower. With no way of knowing how far she had drifted, she wasn't sure how long it might take for her companions to find her, and then a cold thought crept into her mind.

Perhaps they would not look for her at all.

Kíli, she knew, would want to search, want to be certain, but the others would likely be the voice of reason. There was no way she should have survived the fall, and even if she had, it would likely take days to reach the river from the pass and by then she would be too far gone. No, she thought with a heavy heart, help would not come, at least not soon enough.

She was on her own.

Suddenly furious, she let her head fall back against the tree, gritting her teeth despite how it made her jaw ache, and fighting back tears of frustration and hopelessness. She did not want to die like this, cold and alone out in the wilderness. Determination bubbled inside her, chastising her for such dismal and cowardice thoughts. She was an elf of Mirkwood and she did not give up so easily.

Besides, Kíli would certainly not want her to give up, he would want her to fight for life, to fight for him and what they shared. Had their roles been reversed she would have searched until she found him, would have gone to the ends of Arda after him, but… they were not the same. She had little left to her in the way of responsibility, cut off from her people and everything she had ever known, while he had a kingdom to rebuild and govern. He could not abandon them to look for her and so she knew that it was up to her to find him again.

Steeling herself, she used a branch to pull herself up, crying out as every part of her protested, but forcing herself to stand. She needed to find higher ground, find a way to determine where she was and how to find help. Her odds of finding anyone in the wilderness were slim, but she felt her entire life was owed to poor odds and a lot of luck. Hopefully it would not abandon her now.

She was able to determine north, using the moss on a nearby rock, and set herself south. A fire burned in her heart, searing the pain back into manageable proportions. She couldn't give up, something in the recesses of her soul told her Kíli needed her, that she could not fail him.

Filled with determination, she took a shuffling step and then another, until she was moving at a reasonable, albeit uncoordinated, pace. Eventually, dizzy and out of breath, she reached a clearing with a rocky outcropping that she thought she might be able to manage if she went slowly and carefully. The sun had begun to set, igniting the sky and a chilling the air, reminding her that she needed to build a fire, not only for warmth, but for the smoke, which might lead someone to her.

With great difficulty, she managed to gather some small pieces of wood and kindling, setting it aside in favor of crawling up the rocky rise before she lost the light. It took her a long while, trembling with cold and weakness, until she collapsed gratefully at the crest with just enough sun left to see. When she'd caught her breath a little, she stood on her one leg and looked out across the blanket of trees. The mountains were to her left and the forest to her right. She was in the outermost reaches of the trees in a rarely traveled part of the wood that was too far north to be frequently patrolled by her people.

"Valar save me," she breathed in dismal awe, hardly able to believe her own eyes.

She had traveled in the river for many, many miles. Far from the pass, too far to be quickly traversed, leaving her with the disturbing notion that she had been swept away by the current for over a day, at least.

Feeling sick, she sank to the ground again, mind racing and disjointed. How had she survived such a journey? It did not seem possible, and the notion that she was indeed on her own intensified. Reaching Kíli and the others again had gone from improbable to impossible, and she glanced behind her, knowing that her best chance of survival now lay with the people she had left behind.

Her experiences with Welethen were fresh enough in her mind to make the idea not entirely pleasant, but she knew she had little choice between possible imprisonment… and death. Even now she knew she was near utter collapse and it took much of what strength she had left to maneuver her way back to the ground.

It was fully dark by the time she managed to reach her dismal pile of wood again, and she struggled for a long while to create a spark with two bits of wood before she finally had a small fire going. She huddled near it, cold and dejected, as her body drew her toward a fitful sleep.

She rose the following morning with the dawn and felt worse than she had the day before. Her head pulsed with pain and her broken leg and wrist were terribly, terribly stiff, nearly unbearable to move at all as she drew herself into sitting position.

Her fire had gone out sometime in the night and she was shivering with cold again, and hunger was also becoming a persistent concern as she moved away to relieve herself. Struggling with her trousers and laces using her uninjured hand, she came embarrassingly close to fainting, but managed to not disgrace herself entirely.

Fortunately she had kept close to the river and she plodded her way through the trees to its bank, drinking her fill despite the frigid temperature, and wishing she had all her faculties so that she might at least heat some of it to cleanse her wounds and warm herself, but every movement was a trial, every step a mile.

She took the time to do what she could for her wounds, however, fighting back tears at the condition of her hand and leg. Her wrist was flimsy and angled oddly, while the bone in her leg remained protruding, though it had stopped bleeding. Feeling fainter than ever, she turned her head as she clumsily cleaned what she could of the wound, then turned to washing her hands and face, the terrible cold keeping her aware and conscious. Finished, she knew that she had to get moving if she had any hope of reaching help in time.

Another night without food or warmth would likely be her undoing.

Noting the sun and river, she continued south, cursing her unfamiliarity with the region as her world beneath the trees began to grow more shadowed, the canopy rising and shifting into the ancient trees of what had once been the Greenwood. Long had her home been cast into mirk and danger, so long she could not recall a time which it had not been. Valar save her if she ran into any trolls or spiders here, with only her one knife left to her and her very limited strength. She would be an easy target indeed, especially for someone like Welethen, whose intentions remained mysterious and foreboding.

She watched the trees, listened to the wind, praying for some slight indication that someone, anyone might be nearby, but heard only the rustling of beasts and the chorus of shy birds. Weak and unfamiliar with the area, she was in real danger of losing herself in the twisted roots and creeping vines, and she thought it was distinctly ironic that she might meet her end lost in the very forest to which she had been born.

Ironic, and terribly pathetic.

As her strength waned she had to rest more often, hardly able to go a hundred steps without at least needing to lean against some tree or rock to gather herself, desperately trying to stay upright. She thought of Kíli, of his hands and face and smile, using his visage as motivation to keep on, to not give up, though her courage faltered with every downward inch of the sun.

He will need you before the end, a voice whispered, though it grew very faint. Do not give up… do not give…up…

Hours later, night fell and Tauriel stumbled on.

There was nothing in her mind save for the impulse to careen almost blindly from one tree to the next, but in her heart she knew the truth. She was merely lumbering to her death, each awful step pulling her closer to the end. And the knowledge broke her heart, choking her spirit, and quenching what little remained of her determination.

It couldn't end like this, a small, ever shrinking voice cried from within -she couldn't have gone through so much only to have it all fall to naught! She would not accept it but…she was so cold, so very, very cold. Cold enough that she had forgotten warmth and sunlight, forgotten what it meant to be without pain and discomfort. She'd lost all sense of direction and purpose, fueled only by a base need to press on, like a rock rolling down a hill, waiting to reach the bottom.

The world had taken a surreal, misty quality and she began to hear voices and see faces in the darkness, lurking behind trees and rocks. They mocked her, jeering and leering, whispering to her that it was better for him that she had fallen, that she was gone, and that she'd never been anything more than an impossible distraction.

Orí stepped near her side, glaring up at her with hatred in his eyes. "You would have been his fall, his failure. Your selfishness would have thrust us all into doom and darkness. Better that you had let him die that day on the battlefield than you take him now on a forbidden path."

It was as though she'd been slapped, and she staggered from the emotional blow, warding him off with a weak swipe of her arm.

Legolas stood at the pass ahead, his face fallen and eyes dark. "I would have given my soul, my very life for you, and you turned me away for a dwarf who would have only ever left you bereft and alone. You have betrayed our people, you have betrayed me…."

"No," she croaked, reaching for him, only for his face to vanish. "No, please... I never, I never meant to hurt anyone. I only wanted to save him…"

"Save him," Thranduil sneered from the path ahead, his face illuminated and fair but his expression damming. "You would have doomed him to a fate worse than any death."

She shook her head, crashing into a tree, and she gripped its trunk like a sailor lost in a storm.

She squeezed her eyes shut willing the visions and voices away. "No, please, please leave me. I only wished to help, to save him. I-I love him."

"What do you know of love," Thranduil sneered in her ear and she screwed her eyes shut, lurching forward, trying to escape him. But he followed her, haunted her. "What you felt for the would-be dwarven king is nothing but a shadow, a false infatuation that led you to betray your people, betray me. Be grateful your parents did not live to see you fall so far!"

"NO!" she cried, and opened her eyes, taking off at a shambling run. "Leave me! Leave me!"

Suddenly her injured leg caught and she stumbled and fell, a wretched scream of pain and delirium clawing out of her chest as she landed on broken wrist and leg. She rolled down a hill, the pain so intense, that when she landed, she retched miserably into the mulch, sobbing and shaking until she collapsed in on herself.

The darkness did not beckon any longer, it swooped down on her with true intent, and she knew that this time it would not let her go. Tauriel welcomed it with open arms, eager to see those green shores again. To forget her pain.

Flashes in the night, like stars imploding, and voices swam, as if she were under several feet of water.

"What could have happened to her?" someone said, and she felt the ghost of hands, though it was more a distant memory than actual feeling.

"She is very near death… there is nothing we can do," another voice reasoned.

"Her spirit has always been strong, perhaps if we could get her back-"

"We're several days out and she likely will not survive the night, already she is fading. There is nothing we can do, my friend, I am sorry."

"No, no! I will not accept this! We have to try. She would have carried us on her back were she to find us in such a state!. She would not have given up on us, and I will not give up on her. Help me with this, we will cover ground more quickly if we can-"

The voices broke like glass and scattered, sharp and glinting, and she sank back into the depths, fingers reaching but finding nothing.

Tauriel floated somewhere above the world, soft and weightless, and saw what might have been.

A pale face, lifeless hands, and eyes that would never again open. A third tomb built in a silent, dark hall, where only the dead could stay, and a wailing cry followed by a broken pain far greater than any physical hurt she had ever known, and with it a certainty that all the light had faded from her world, leaving behind only a pale reflection. The stars did not shine for her any longer, and she wandered into dull shadow. Forever alone.

She watched as the world fell into darkness, as a great sea of black bent toward her, and her people cried out in longing and fear. She watched as her friends -Orí, Gloín, Bombur, Bofur, and Dwalin- fell to cruel blades and boundless malice, all while she stood apart, helplessly alone. From a great distance she found Legolas, surrounded on all sides by teeth and claw, his eyes pleading with her, blaming her, as foul flesh engulfed him.

You must fight!

The world shifted and tilted, and she drifted through a sudden warm light. Voices called and she moved toward them, until she came upon a scene that was dear to the deepest, most secret parts of her heart. So dear and fragile she had never dared allowed herself to dwell on it.

In a cavernous room Kíli stood, crowned and resplendent, deep in conversation with several other dwarves. He was nodding, brow furrowed as he listened carefully to something Balin said, and a door burst open, a small flame haired child dashing inside the room with a harried looking nurse on her heels.

Kíli turned with the rest at the noise and a broad smile, full of love and tenderness, warmed his face in such a way that Tauriel had never seen, and he knelt to sweep a little girl into his arms. The child was grinning and laughing as her father -for the similarities of their features could be no coincidence- swung her around while the others looked on with indulgent grins. Such a wave of longing washed through Tauriel that it was nearly beyond bearing as Kíli bent his head to place a tender kiss on their daughter's brow.

It was cruel, too cruel to be born. She could not stand it!

You must not give up!

Tauriel woke to the fading notes of a song, its melody sweet and sorrowful, and it drew her toward consciousness with gentle insistence, banishing her fears like cool mist on a warm day.

Tauriel blinked, the world hazy, and eventually managed to focus on a familiar face that hovered above hers. Creases of worry smoothed from a fair brow and Thranduil pursed his lips down at her.

"We have been here before," he said dryly. "I had hoped to never be here again."

Tauriel, disoriented and weak, tried to sit up, but a gentle hand stayed her. She was engulfed in soft sheets on a feathered mattress, the room simple, but warm, and it did not make any sense to her. Her last memories were of impenetrable darkness and doom.

"Do not move, your wounds are not fully healed and far too much time has already been spent on resetting bones to have you ruin good work," the Elven King said and swept away to pour a glass of water into a silver cup. With surprising tenderness, he lifted her head and pressed the goblet to her lips, holding it there till she had drained it, and repeating the process twice more.

"Where am I?" she croaked at last, feeling marginally better.

"You are in the halls of my kingdom. Have you forgotten the place you once called home so quickly?"

She frowned, mind racing through her distorted memories. Flashes of moments and images, but nothing substantial enough to account for her current predicament, only a faint recollection of voices... and a dream… both terrible and sweet… gone now, but not too far out of reach.

She shook her head. "But… how?"

"Several scouts found you and brought you back here. And just in time, I might add. You were very near death, in truth I thought you gone beyond all saving, but I would never have forgiven myself if I did not try. And neither I think, would my son, though he has fled these halls," he said this while looking away from her, out into the night where soft lights glittered among the trees that formed the ancient palace. There was an unfathomable sadness in his eyes. "You took with fever your second day with us and I labored for nearly three more to bring you through it but… here you are," he turned back toward her, almost smiling, though his expression was guarded. "Which leads me to ask… what happened to you?"

Whether by sheer exhaustion or a desperate need to please this man she had once hung the stars by, she retold her tale. Taking up the story from their journey into the mountains where she'd happened upon the Princess Dís; she thought it was perhaps best not to mention her dealings in the forest just yet. If what he said was true, it had been nearly two weeks since her tumble from the mountain and into the river. Several weeks that the dwarves had likely assumed her dead.

"Such a fall should have killed you," Thranduil said gravely, echoing her thoughts, and she wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Yes, my lord, it should have," she agreed.

"And yet here you are," he mused. "By some miracle." His tone told her that he did not entirely believe her tale, and her heart sank. Once he had trusted her judgment, almost without question.

"By your skill and kindness," she said, looking down, shame and sadness welling in her. She had long considered what she might say to her king when she saw him again, but now found she had no words in which to heal the rift between them.

Perhaps no such words existed.

The king scoffed lightly. "Perhaps, though you have always had a strong spirit, which has been both your blessing and curse. Do not think I have not heard of your travels in the Deep Roads, Tauriel, though you cleverly avoided their mention."

She shivered at the memory of Welethen's face, twisted and foul as his fingers dug into her wounded arm. "Please, my lord, I can explain. Captain Welethen-"

"Has gone missing," he interrupted tersely, "and is considered a fugitive of my kingdom."

Tauriel looked up, stunned, to find that fury was burring in Thranduil's eyes, and he rose to pace away from her. "When Lieutenant Curial reported your movements with the dwarves, I ordered Captain Welethen to bring you to me. Not the dwarves, of course, I have had enough dealings with dwarves to last several lifetimes, but I wanted to have words with you."

"Concerning what… my lord?"

He whirled toward her. "Concerning your loyalties Tauriel! Or have you forgotten your kin, have you forgotten your own people!"

She flinched away from him, weak and still disoriented. Foul voices leapt out at her from the corners of her mind. Memories of his face, furious and cruel.

A gentle hand stilled her, and she opened her eyes, though she could not recall closing them. The anger in her king's eyes and been quelled with pity, though it lingered like a wolf in the shadows.

"I am sorry. Now is not the time for this conversation. You must rest, and I have other things to tend to."

Her mind stuttered and she thought of Kíli. "My companions… the dwarves, they surely think me dead. I must get word to them."

Thranduil scowled, hurt flickering briefly across his features. "Now is not the time to worry over such things. Word can be sent, but for now drink this and rest." He handed her a tincture of some faintly greenish liquid, which she accepted reluctantly. She was tempted to refuse him, but the look in his eyes left no room for argument, and she dutifully drained its contents. It tasted foul and she pulled a face.

"Just like when you were a child," Thranduil mused, again not looking at her. "You were always terrible at doing what you were told."

"Not always, my lord. I protected this kingdom, I served you," she found herself saying, a sense of injustice putting voice to her feelings. "I have always sought to please you."

Thranduil looked to her again, eyes cold and face impossible to read. "Enough talking now, you will rest and we will talk again soon."

He turned and left the room without another word, leaving Tauriel to her tumultuous thoughts as an undeniable weariness came over her.

Alone, however, she forced herself to survey the damage.

Her wrist still ached steadily in its thick wrappings, though the pain had been significantly dulled. She wondered if she would ever be able to draw a bow again, hold a sword again, or climb through the trees with ease again,and quickly brushed the sentiment aside before it could overwhelm her. There would be time to find out, time to heal. Cringing as muscles pulled and bruises made themselves known, she felt the bandages beneath a simple cotton dress meant to restrict her movement so her ribs might heal. She was lucky none of them had punctured her lungs or she would have been dead in hours.

Turing back the sheets, she found her leg was also wrapped in thick bandages, wedged between several bits of fitted wood, and was surprised to find she could wiggle her toes. She smiled a little, and yawned for perhaps the first time in her life.

Whatever Thranduil had forced her to drink was insistently pulling her toward sleep, so she clumsily covered herself again and sunk into the bed, feeling oddly languid and disjointed. But she was deeply troubled over what her king had said, and worried for Kíli.

She blinked once and did not open her eyes again till the following morning.

The king did not return the next day, or the next, nor the one after that.

Instead she saw only a slew of healers and maids, few of whom were familiar. When she asked after Luríena, who was perhaps one of their most talented healers, she was told only that her dear friend was busy with other duties and could not visit. When she asked after the king, she was almost entirely ignored. Instead they fed her, dressed her, bathed her, and helped her to the privy with quiet but insistent care. Every night another foul potion was forced upon her, and she was drugged into dreamless sleep as her body began to mend.

After another two weeks of being in the palace, the moon high and full, she was nearly beside herself with worry for Kíli and the others. One of the serving women had brought her a cane to allow her to move about her rooms on her own once she'd proven herself able to stand without falling, and she grabbed it with sudden frustration, pulling herself up from her bed. She looked outthe single window of her room, watching the figures move along the pathways below, and knew she was near the royal quarters of the palace.

Shuffling to the small dresser, she found a dress robe of deep blue silk edged in white fur –far finer than anything she had ever owned- and awkwardly tied it about herself with her one good hand. Mustering as much dignity as she could, she went to the door and threw it open, only to find herself face to face with a heavily armored guard.

"I am sorry, my lady," the guard said, his face familiar but without a name, "but you are forbidden to leave these rooms,"

She frowned, a cold understanding creeping along her spine. "Forbidden? By whom?"

She knew the answer before he spoke, but the swords still burned. "The King, of course."

"Did he say why or for how long?" she ground out, fury roaring to replace the sting of betrayal.

The guard shook his head, his expression firm and resolute. Thranduil had clearly chosen someone whom she'd had little tie to, supposing rightly that she might have tried to bribe or reason her way free. "He did not, my lady, only that you were not to leave and that should you need anything, I send for someone."

"I need to speak to the king," she all but snapped, aware that her petulance was unlikely to get her anywhere, but after days of being trapped in a small room her nerves were beyond frazzled.

"I'm afraid his majesty is not available, though I will pass your request on," his tone informed her quite clearly that he would in fact do no such thing, that he was repeating a lie which he'd been commanded to relay, and her blood boiled.

"I will see him myself then! He has no right to hold me prisoner," she said, knowing her words were entirely untrue –Thranduil was king and that alone gave him every right- and made to move past him, but the other elf caught her firmly by the arm.

"I do not wish to hurt you, my lady, but I have been given permission to physically restrain you if necessary," his eyes and voice were tinged with steel.

Briefly, Tauriel envisioned how she might incapacitate the man before reason crept in; she was unarmed, still terribly weak, and in a frequently trafficked part of the palace where other guards were sure to notice such a ruckus.

The hand on her arm squeezed hard enough that she squirmed. "Please go back inside, my lady, do not make this harder than it needs to be," the guard's eyes were cold and intense; she would find no compassion there. She slumped in his grip and allowed him to urge her back inside her room.

"He cannot keep me here forever," she said, but the guard said nothing as he closed the door, the click of the lock loud in the lonely silence.