#kifibaraw

Entering the edges of the city, the dwarves attacked, defending their neighbors with gusto and glee for the trash attacking those they had come to call friends. Peace reigned between the two kingdoms and had for the past year since Erebor was reclaimed and the Battle of the Five Armies occurred. Dwarves and Men now worked side by side once more in Dale, even some of the Men learning the art of mining within the halls of Erebor itself.

This was the first major attack since the Battle by one of the many renegade orc bands that had been roaming near the mountains. Thorin took note of the garments on some of the men that were lying on the ground, dead. They were not garments he recognized and worried that perhaps this wasn't simply orcs alone. He had heard murmurings of members of the Haradrim moving north and spreading terror. He just had hoped that they were nothing more than rumors. It did not take long for the dwarves and men of Dale to take care of the remaining invaders, but the damage was done. He recognized the clothing of many of Dale's citizens as they lay on the ground; dead or injured. Thorin whistled to his nephews and the sons of Durin set off in search of Bard, the King of Dale. They were just rounding a corner to the King's home when they saw him racing out of his home, Bain hot on his heels. Both looked frantic; it spurred Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli to move even faster. "Bard," Thorin called. Bard swung his head around to them. "I can't find Sigrid or Tilda!"  Thorin felt his chest constrict. He had become very fond of both of Bard's daughters since retaking Erebor and getting to know their family. He knew that his nephews were both quite fond of them too, he also knew that Bofur adored little Tilda, as did Bifur.  Thorin had a sneaking suspicion that Fíli was more than just fond of the elder girl, Sigrid, than he let on. "Bofur! Dwalin!" Thorin called to the two dwarves that were turning a corner near the house. They ran over. "We split up," Thorin said to Bard. "You and I will go south. Bofur, Dwalin, take Bain with you and check the east side of town near the market. Fíli, Kíli, head west towards the gates closer to Esgaroth." "What's going on?" Bofur asked. "Tilda and Sigrid are missing," Thorin said. Bofur paled before his jaw hardened. "Let's go," Bard said. The groups quickly split, heading in the directions Thorin suggested. They only hoped they found Bard's daughters unscathed. ~~

 Fíli and Kíli were getting frustrated as they headed towards the far walls close to Esgaroth but still hadn’t found Tilda or Sigrid. The dwarves ducked into various doorways, hoping to find the girls. A scream brought them running faster. They had immediately recognized it as Tilda’s.

 They turned a corner, seeing a wolf pup cowering in a corner, a wound on its left shoulder. It was making snapping motions at the figure that was covered in black. A large scimitar was in his hand and he was drawing it back from his side, aiming directly in front of him. Fíli saw a slashing motion in front of the figure and the tip of a sword.

 “Kíli!” Fíli hissed to his brother, drawing his swords. Kíli stopped and pulled an arrow from his quiver, drawing the bow back and releasing the arrow. It found its home in the man’s back. Kíli released another for good measure. As he slumped and fell to the side, dead, Sigrid and Tilda were revealed. In front of Tilda stood Sigrid, sword in her left hand while her right side was covered in blood and her right arm was tucked close to her body.

 “Kíli,” Tilda said. She ran from around her sister, straight into the dwarf’s arms. She started sobbing against his shoulder.

 “Easy,” Kíli said. “I’ve got you.”

 Fíli quickly sheathed his weapons and approached Sigrid slowly. Her eyes were full of pain and still wild-looking. He lifted his hands, drawing her attention. He inched ever closer, watching her with each movement. Even if she recognized him, he knew that she could still be in a fight or flight state of mind.

 “Sigrid,” Fíli said softly. “Give me the sword.” He paused when Sigrid jerked her gaze to his.

 “Fíli?” She frantically looked around. “Tilda!”

 “Kíli has her,” Fíli said, moving closer. He reached out and managed to extract the sword from her hand. She had a firm grip and it took a moment to fully pull the sword from her grasp. He tossed the sword aside.

 “I had to protect her,” Sigrid said, tears slipping onto her cheeks.

 “You did,” Fíli said, taking her good hand. He caught her as she collapsed. She was shaking, the pain and blood loss getting to her as the adrenaline wore off.

 “I don’t feel very well,” she admitted, her head falling on Fíli’s shoulder.

 “Let’s get you to Óin,” Fíli said. He moved to Sigrid’s side and carefully gathered her into his arms. For the first time since he met the taller woman, he felt much larger than her. Careful of her injured arm, he lifted her into his arms and turned to head back towards the center of the city where the King of Dale resided.

 “The puppy,” she murmured.

 “What?” Fíli asked.

 “The puppy tried to protect us,” Tilda supplied. “He was hurt too.”

 “I’ll get him,” Kíli said. He carefully approached the wolf-pup. Its hackles rose and he whimpered, but when he realized that Kíli was only trying to help he whined painfully. Kíli bundled the puppy into a cloth and picked him up, earning a lick on the chin from the animal. He moved back over to Tilda and took her hand. They followed behind Fíli as he hurried with Sigrid tucked close.

 “Fíli! Kíli!” Thorin was calling.

 “Here!” Kíli called. “We have them!”

 Thorin and Bard came running around a corner just as Fíli and Kíli were about to enter the main courtyard closest to the house.

 “Sigrid!” Bard rushed towards them.

 “She’s been injured,” Fíli said. “We need Óin.”

 “Let’s get her to the house,” Bard said, reaching to take Sigrid from Fíli. The only reason the dwarf didn’t protest is because he had no real claim on Sigrid, and Bard’s longer legs would get her to Óin faster.

 “What of Tilda?” Thorin asked.

 “She protected me,” Tilda said. “She got hurt protecting me.”

 Thorin pulled her into a hug as Tilda started to cry. He lifted her into his arms and turned to carry her after her father and sister. “I am sure she has no regrets, little one. It’s what big sisters do,” he said. “Big brothers too. Just ask Fíli how often he protected Kíli.”

 “Still do,” Fíli said fondly. The three dwarves walked to the house and inside, Óin already seeing to Sigrid’s wounds. Bard looked at them and broke away to hug his youngest close after she slipped out of Thorin’s arms. Fíli stood off to the side, his eyes intent on Sigrid. He refused to move until he knew she would be okay.

 ~~

 It was quite late when Sigrid started to finally stir. She felt a number of things at once; numb tingling along her right side, two warm bodies pressed to her left side, and a calloused hand holding her left.

 “You’re awake.” The hand shifted in hers and she turned her head to see that it belonged to Fíli. They were the only two in the room awake. One of the bodies pressed to her side was Tilda, who was fast asleep, the other was the wolf pup who also slept and had a bandage wrapped around its wound.

 “How bad?” she asked.

 “Could have been worse,” Fíli said. He moved to her right so as not to disturb the puppy or Tilda. He lifted Sigrid’s head to help her drink some water.

 “Óin said if we hadn’t found you as soon as we had, you could have lost the arm,” he said. “Tauriel arrived as well to help with the healing.”

 “But I’ll be okay?” she asked.

 “Yes, though it’ll most likely scar,” Fíli said.

 “That’ll be a great thing for suitors,” Sigrid said bitterly. She sighed as Fíli’s eyebrow arched. “They’ve started arriving more and more.”

 “What does your father think of that?” he asked. Fíli knew how *he* felt about it, but did he have a right to feel jealousy when he had no idea if Sigrid was as interested in him as he was in her?

 “Da is amused and exasperated all at once,” she admitted. “Exasperated because they keep showing up and amused because I keep sending them away.”

 “He does not want to see you married?” Fíli asked.

 “He wants to see me happy,” Sigrid said softly. “Da knows that I have someone I prefer, but has not pushed for me to pursue it.”

 “Oh?” Fíli said, his heart aching. “And do I know this person you prefer?” He hoped that the jealousy he thought he heard in his voice wasn’t really there. Or that she had not picked up on it.

 Sigrid shifted, her eyes growing heavy. “Honestly, if you need to ask that, then you have not been paying attention,” she said.

 “You speak in riddles, my lady,” Fíli said.

 Sigrid yawned, her nose wrinkling in a way that Fíli found endearing. “Simply look in the mirror, my silly dwarf,” she murmured, snuggling into the covers as sleep started to overtake her again. “That is all the answer you’ll need.”

Tauriel knew that feeling as well. She had also been killed by someone she thought loved her. It wasn't until much later that she realized how controlling and jealous Legolas had been, not to mention the pure cruelty and malice that resided in his father, Thranduil. Thranduil had never approved of Tauriel, so he took every opportunity to whisper into Legolas' ear about the young woman. The final whisper had been to accuse her of infidelity. Legolas had flown into a jealous rage, which ended in Tauriel's death. Thranduil had gotten his comeuppance in that Legolas had committed suicide after realizing what he had done. The Greenleaf line died when Thranduil had finally succumbed to the years of alcohol abuse he had put his body through. With no heir and no known relatives, it had been a fitting end to the man's tyranny.

  It wasn't often that a ghost was caught off guard, but she did jump when a handsome man with long dark hair came into the room. He wasn't the tallest, at least not compared to the man who seemed like an older version of him stepping into the room behind him. Both men were incredibly attractive. The older man had a full beard, whereas the younger had stubble. Tauriel was immediately drawn to the younger for some reason. She moved slightly in order to study the two men better, startled when both turned their heads in her direction. If she were still alive, her heart would have started pounding. There was a slightly vacant look in their eyes, as if they knew she was there, but they couldn't actually see where she was exactly.

  Now this is interesting... she thought to herself.

  "Uncle, Kíli," a third voice called from the other room. "I sense something in here." Immediately the older man turned to leave the room, heading straight for where he heard the third speaking. The younger man remained, still looking near where Tauriel stood.

  "Kíli," a deep voice called. Different from the third, it must be the one referred to as "uncle". Tauriel watched as the man, Kíli, hesitated a moment before leaving the room. After a moment, Tauriel followed. She had to bite her lip when she saw Sigrid in the room the three men were in. Unlike when they seemed to sense Tauriel, Sigrid wasn't fully in the line of sight of the three men, but the third man, a blonde with shoulder length hair, was holding a framed image. Tauriel knew it was one of the images of Sigrid that had been left in the house when it had been abandoned after her murder in 1889. Just fifty years ago is when the historical society in the area had taken over ownership of the house and turned it into a tourist attraction due to its history.

  "Lovely young woman," Uncle said.

  "This one too," Kíli commented, lifting another frame. It was a small portrait that had been created of Tauriel. Photography had only been introduced about a month before Tauriel was murdered. She moved closer to the man, glancing at the portrait. While it looked quite like her, she hated how impersonal it looked. They always took forever. Sigrid's image looked more like her, only incredibly sad. She was already in the throes of the relationship that would end her life.

  "It doesn't do you justice," Kíli said. Tauriel's head jerked up and found that the man did not have a slightly off look any longer. He was looking directly at her.

  "You can see me?" She glanced to the other men in the room. The blonde was looking directly at Sigrid, while Uncle was walking over to Kíli. He still had the look of a man who knew she was there but couldn't see her. Until he looked at her portrait. When he lifted his head, he was looking at her.

  "He's right," Uncle said.

  "How...?" Sigrid asked hesitantly.

  "We're mediums," the blonde answered. He turned to look at Kíli. "Let me see the portrait." Kíli lifted it for the blonde to see. Once he had, he looked directly at Tauriel too.

  "Does that... help?" Tauriel asked, a frown forming.

  "We can sense spirits," Uncle explained. "But once we see a portrait or image, it allows our abilities to see the spirit if they are in the room."

  "Fascinating," Tauriel said.

  "What is your name?" Uncle asked.

  "Tauriel," she said. "Tauriel Silvandar."

  "Killed in 1839," Kíli said. "One of at least two murders committed in this house."

  "I am sure there were others," Tauriel said. "But as far as I know, there were only two in this house in the 1800s."

  "Sigrid Braga," the blonde said. "Said to be murdered by her husband, but he was never convicted. Her death was 50 years after yours."

  "Yes, it was," Sigrid said. He turned look at her.

  "My father never recovered from losing me," Sigrid said. "Nor did my siblings."

  "This house is still in the Bowman family," Uncle commented.

  "What are your names?" Tauriel said suddenly. She nodded to Kíli. "I guessed that your name is Kíli, but all I can refer to the other two are Uncle and the blonde one." Her comment earned a wry smile from the one she called Uncle.

  "I am Thorin Oakenshield," he explained. "These are my nephews, Fíli and Kíli Durinson."

  "You are the first ghost hunters that have been here that could actually see us," Tauriel explained. "I think we find you as fascinating as you find us."

  "We do prefer being considered mediums versus ghost hunters," Fíli said. "Ghost hunters tend to have a bad reputation for exploiting their finds. Mediums prefer to speak to spirits and determine their unfinished business on the earthly plane."

  "To give us closure?" Sigrid asked. He nodded, but paused as she shook her head. "It is not quite that simple."

  "I found closure after my death," Tauriel said. "But sometimes a spirit is never really meant to move on."

  "It seems lonely," Kíli said. "If you are only meant to walk this realm for eternity."

  "Time moves differently for us," Tauriel said. "While we know that at least a century and a quarter has passed since Sigrid was killed, it sometimes still feels as if it was just yesterday that I was. And it's been almost two hundred years since I was killed."

  "That's fascinating," Kíli said. "So you see the passage of time and yet... do not?"

  "Time is not quite linear for us," Tauriel said.

  "Do you fade?" Thorin asked. "I mean are there times when you are stronger and times when you are not?"

  "I suppose that we are stronger when there are those that can sense us," Sigrid said, moving closer to the men. "Though the stories about ghosts gaining strength over their surroundings is only partially true."

  "How so?" Fíli asked.

  "Poltergeists are often defined by the amount of noise they can make, or the things they can physically move," Sigrid said. "However, most spirits have some strength to make their presence known. Many times it is based on how connected they are to their surroundings or who they are attached to."

  "Who they are attached to?" Kíli asked.

  "Spirits will attach themselves to places," Tauriel explained. "If they have a strong tie. Such as Sigrid and I. We were killed here, so this is where we have remained. We can travel away from here, but I suppose that is when we fade in a sense. We lose a sense of ourselves and eventually we return. Sometimes this explains the passage of time for us. Other spirits will attach themselves to people or to families. This allows them to follow that family to wherever they go."

  "I remember the show, Ghost Whisperer, and her saying that places weren't haunted, that people were," Kíli said.

  "Whoever wrote for her is half right," Sigrid said. "It's actually both, it just depends on the significance for the spirit."

  "Most true poltergeists, which tend to be more malevolent, usually are the ones to attach themselves to people," Tauriel said. "Unless something has bound them to a place. They are out for revenge that they could not get in life. Most disturbances at haunted locations that are harmful result from a poltergeist that has been bound to a place, which does not allow them to take their revenge."

  "Can a spirit become a poltergeist if they never were one?" Thorin asked.

  "It's rare," Sigrid said. "But any spirit can become embittered over time, especially if they feel an injustice was done to them even after death."

  "Such as yourself?" Thorin questioned.

  Sigrid tilted her head. "I suppose that could have been an outcome, yes," she said. "Admittedly I was quite angry the first few years after I was killed, because I received no justice for my death. Disturbances here were reported, which is probably why the house was never occupied officially again after I died. But I never became so consumed by my hatred for what Alfrid Braga did that I turned into a vengeful spirit."

  "This is amazing," Fíli said. "We were going to record for disturbances and other spirits, but do you mind if we talk with you both about spirits?"

  "I don't mind," Tauriel said. "It's not every day that we actually have mediums that really can see and speak to us."