Tauriel remembered the blood. She remembered the way that it caked in her hair and covered her clothes. Bits of it had dried onto her skin, and there was no water around to be found.

The dirty ground was wet, bugs crushed beneath her, and mud covering whatever else of her hair wasn't dirty.

Pain shot through her arms, and for a moment the idea of grabbing one of her knives or shooting another arrow repulsed her. She couldn't even stand any longer, the gash in her legs forcing her down. Blood poured out of it, turning her leg red and pink.

She should have listened to her mother.

"Tauriel, your father and I trust that you can fight. We helped to train you after all."

Tauriel closed her eyes. The dark, tree branch filled sky vanished, and was quickly replaced by her mother's warm green eyes.

"Tauriel, orcs are nothing like spiders." She sighed. "Promise me that you won't be so reckless."

Slowly, her image faded away.

Azog looked to the sky, his dark eyes wide. He took two long sniffs, and then turned back to the others. "I smell Oakenshield and his kin."

Tauriel bit her lip. She had known Azog was heading to Dol Goldur while still having his eyes set on capturing the dwarves, but she had hoped it would be a side issue. The stray dwarves - miners and traders near Bree whom had all worn different style clothing - had just seemed like a sport to Azog and the others, nothing more. It was just supposed to get the wargs something else to chew on.

"How far away are they?" asked another Orc. "I need to test how sharp my axe is; will it go through a dwarf's head or only half way?"

A few of the other orcs started laughing and raising their weapons high.

Tauriel's stomach twisted.

Azog only raised his arm and pointed it forward. "We can stop to rest later. As of now, our only thoughts are on the dwarves. If we do not go after them now then we risk losing them." His glare deepened. "I am not losing Oakenshield again."

Tauriel looked over to Diolir. She was still chewing on the bone of a captured deer, seemingly too focused on the very last of her food to notice what was going on. Tauriel's wargs eyes met her own, and she dropped her bone.

"We must be going." Tauriel reached out and quickly scratched the back of her ear.

Diolir merely stood up, her back high. With shaking legs, Tauriel mounted her.

The Orcs had chased the dwarves to the edge of Rivendell before they themselves were chased away by elves. Azog had ordered the troops to reposition, his eyes never leaving her as he did so. She had found herself straight in the center, Orcs covering her on all sides.

Perhaps it was better that way; Azog didn't want the elves to see her, and she did not want to see them. Elves were strong, but they too could fall, bodies lying like lost dolls in the dirt. In between screams there were always mourning cries.

Diolir raced forward, her sharp fangs bared. Of the two, she was the one far more bothered by this arrangement; as one of the fastest wargs, she needed to be up front where she could run freely. Back here, she had to slow for other wargs.

I'm sorry, Tauriel thought. She grabbed an arrow from her quiver and prepared her bow. Though she doubted that she would have to actually fire it, it was still better to have one and try and be safe.

Her dark hood had long since dropped from the wind, and her red hair hung free.

Below her, the crushed grass began to turn red.

She had woken up to the sound of orcs chattering. Her body still ached, and it took her a moment to realize what was happening.

"Only one elf left," an Orc had said. It had taken her years to finally figure out what the Orcs had spoken on that cruel day.

"Why isn't the ugly beast dead?" another had replied. "All the others are gone."

"I thought that this one was dead, but she wasn't. Master Azog noticed it." The Orc paused for a moment. "This one, this elf, is different."

Though at the time she could not recognize the words, a shiver had run up Tauriel's spine.

In only a moment she was frozen once more. The two orcs had looked over to her, meeting her directly in the eye. They grinned, showing off small, yellow knives. She doubted they would pose for a portrait looking like that.

"Well, well, well, the beast awoke. The scum really did survive."

Sweat formed on the back of her neck. With what little strength that she still had left, she reached for weapons that were not there.

"Go," said one of the orcs to the other. "Master Azog will be pleased to hear of this." He looked back to her.

She struggled to sit up, the Orc all the while watching her. She had been stripped of her weapons, save the knives hidden in her boots. If the orc could just look away then she could grab both of them. They were small, yes, but better than nothing.

Her arms still shook, and part of her just wanted to collapse back into the dirt. Her leg had been (surprisingly) bandaged over, but it still ached as well.

A short time later, the Orcs returned with another. This Orc was paler than most of the others, with swords in each hand. He looked strange and sickly compared to the others, though his glare was harder than the other Orcs.

She didn't wait for the Orcs to look away. Tauriel forced off her boots, grabbing her knives, and propelled herself forward. Judging by the area around her, she was still in Mirkwood; she had run around barefoot in the forest before, and she would do it again.

Her knives went straight through the Orc's face, and she just as quickly pushed herself upwards again. For a moment, she rode through the air, her knives raised. Once her feet hit the ground, she raced forward.

Everyone was silent around the fire that night. There were no jokes or discussions of planned future victories. Most simply ate and slept, too exhausted from the day earlier.

From the corner of her eye, Tauriel watched Azog. He was especially grim that night, and barely seemed to be touching his food. Tauriel's eyes watered at the sight of his meat; she was nearly finished with her own.

After a while, he seemed to catch her gaze and handed her his meat. Her eyes met his own for a moment, and her eyes drifted down towards the scars that still covered his face. A lump formed in her throat, and she again wondered why they had not healed. Azog only had one worse injury, one that anyone could see without ever meeting his face.

"Will we keep heading after the dwarves tomorrow?" Tauriel asked.

"Aye," Azog responded. "You are angered, are you not? I know you wish to face the Necromancer yourself. Few willingly go to him."

She shook her head. "Your feud should end."

Despite everything that happened earlier, he gave her a small smile. "I cannot wait until it is finally over. It's propelled me forward, yet I want it over."

Tauriel continued to eat her meat, though slower this time. Diolir slept at her feet, warm fur brushing up against Tauriel's legs.

With the Orcs now surrounding her, their large hands wrapped around her body and holding her up like a flimsy rag doll, she wondered how she was even still alive. Her leg still ached, and dried blood still covered her.

The head of the Orcs grinned down at her, its scars looking already to have stopped bleeding from where she had attacked it.

It spoke, and in that moment Tauriel was glad to not yet understand its tongue.

They had to go over the goblin's mountain to get to the dwarves. By the time that they caught up, Azog was grinning from ear to ear. Tauriel was near the front, her hood covering her face and dark gloves covering her hands. Her bow was ready in case she needed to fire.

Diolir raced happily; surely her stomach was grumbling.

The dwarves, Tauriel noticed, looked weak and scattered. Most of them looked afraid, and none seemed to immediately resemble Oakenshield from what she could see.

As much as she loved her warg, the dwarves did not deserve to become Diolir's dinner.

The dwarves headed towards the trees, yelling frantically to each other. They were like ants escaping from a nest filling with water.

She raised her bow and fired. None of the other Orcs seemed to notice how her arrows sailed past the dwarves so conveniently, close and yet just not close enough.

Keep moving, she thought. Get into the trees.

With Dol Goldur so close, she doubted that the other dwarves would be chased so long as Azog could get Oakenshield. Even the wizard that was rumored to be traveling with them did not bother Azog as much as his enemy did.

The Orcs began to dismount, leaving the Wargs to either stay behind or fight if they wished. Diolir herself showed her fangs and kept close to Tauriel.

Each step was careful. She continued to fire, every arrow close but not close enough.

Fiery pine cones rained down from the air, and Tauriel jumped past them. The Wargs were shocked, but the Orcs kept forward. Standing close to Diolir, she watched Azog step forward.

Were it not for her bow then she feared she would have helped force the trees down.

Cries rang through the air. First they were screams and then cries of protest.

Tauriel's heart skipped a beat.

Thorin Oakenshield up close was so different from what she had expected. For all that Azog had spoken of him, she had been sure that he was closer to a deity than a dwarf. Still, he looked so average - muscular and bearded, but so were other dwarves. There was nothing strikingly different about him.

She looked Diolir in the eyes one last moment, and then raced forward. Tauriel didn't even know what she needed to do, but standing around would do nothing.

Azog and Thorin cried and their swords clashed. Azog's dreams were finally coming true.

Tauriel froze near them but did not fight. Her grip on her bow weakened.

What could she really do? She was in the middle of who knew where with only a few arrows left. Azog had proven before that his tracking abilities were great. Besides, the dwarves looked ready to fall at any moment.

It seemed Azog would soon have everything that he ever wanted.

Tauriel forced her eyes shut.

Dol Goldur is close, she thought. Remember that.

When she again opened her eyes, she found Azog knocking Thorin to the ground. His large body thumped to the ground, nothing but a bug under Azog's feet.

Tauriel's heart raced. Even if he got a wounded leg, she doubted that Azog would spare him. He may have been different from most dwarves, but that surely would not save him, not when he so desired Thorin Oakenshield's head so much.

Even from this distance angle, Tauriel could see him grinning. Her stomach churned.

From the corner of her eyes, she looked to Yazneg. He too looked slightly stressed, though Azog himself was delighted.

She gripped her bow tighter. All those years of listening to Azog cry (more often that not in anger), watching him face the loss of his arm, and listen to him swear vengeance was finally coming to an end.

Azog raised his sword with one hand.

Tauriel shut her eyes.

When she opened them a few seconds later, she saw Thorin up, Azog on the ground, and a creature with no shoes on holding a sword.

He's still alive, Tauriel thought. She stepped away, heading back towards Diolir. This was Azog's fight alone.

As she forced herself past the fire, her hood fell off. She did not bother to put it back on; the dwarves likely would not notice her after all. Their own sights were set on their king.

She searched for Diolir through the smoke. The wood of her bow dug into her skin.

Dol Goldur, she thought. Diolir. Dol Goldur. Diolir.

The words echoed through her mind and connected with loose images.

I need, she thought, her heart racing and mind as smoke filled as the land around her, I need to get out of here.

It took her a moment to realize that her feet were off the ground. She looked down, her bow clutched tightly in her hand. Her legs moved around in the air, reaching for ground that was not there. As the moments passed, more and more Eagles filled the sky, taking dwarves with them. All the while, the Eagle holding her around the shoulders clung to her tighter and cried out to the other eagles.

Below her, Diolir howled.

For the second time in her life, she awoke to others chattering above her while her body ached. Slowly, her eyes opened.

The sky was clear, showing only a few fluffy white clouds. Her arms ached more than her legs, and it took a lot of energy to force herself up.

Where am I? She thought. None of the voices had sounded like any of the Orcs that she knew.

Her legs shook, though she locked eyes with a number of dwarves, a wizard, and that creature from earlier.

"The elf is up," one said.

"Th-Thorin Oakenshield?" Tauriel asked. He was the one closest to her. He looked dirty and tired, so different from the courageous fighter from the night before. At his side was the creature, who looked like a man though much smaller and with hair covered feet. Thorin had his arm around him.

Her eyes darted around. It looked as though they were high above any surface.

"You are alive?" Tauriel rubbed the side of her head. "And the Orcs are gone?"

"Yes," replied the furry footed creature. His sword was at his side. "The Orcs fled."

The tears came in an instant. The Orcs were gone, nowhere in sight. Even as the eagles had pulled her away and she felt herself lose consciousness, she had been sure that somehow she would wake up with Diolir at her side and Azog's watchful eyes over her.

The tears did nothing to keep her wobbly legs from falling.

Surprisingly, it was Thorin Oakenshield who stopped her fall. She found her face in his shoulders.

"Please tell me Azog is dead." Her voice had risen, and the tears came down harder.

Before anyone could reply, two dwarves burst out laughing.

"Kili, do you see that?"

"Certainly!"

"I'm glad that my eyes aren't deceiving me then. Uncle Thorin is hugging an elf!"