A/N: I meant to work on my Éponine/Enjolras fanfic, but this one-shot bunny distracted me. It's a mix of movie and book. I really did not like the whole Tauriel/Kili thing, it was terribly sappy. (Although I did like the "starlight. . . distance part thing" that Kili said, that was cute, but that's because he's so cute). I think they could have achieved something nice with just a close friendship, maybe a one-sided crush from Kili. That could still inspire Legolas later to join the fellowship, if that's what they were going for. Because a close friendship would have gone against the norm for the elves of Mirkwood, too, in regards to dwarves. I actually liked Tauriel on her own, she grew on me.
Also, Tauriel going all "glowy" in Kili's sight while she was healing him, I was like, "you have got to be kidding me! I thought I was watching "The Hobbit" not the Hallmark Channel. Gag me with a spoon! Absolutely ridiculous. So, here's my spin. (And I totally was hoping for Legolas/Tauriel, I think that would have been better).
. . . . . .
Mellon-Nîn
. . . . . .
The first thing she smelled was leather, which was comforting. The last thing she had smelled was blood. Blood and sweat; salt and metal in her mouth. The last thing she had seen as she lay beside Kili was Fili standing over his brother's body, his eyes wide with grief and wet with tears.
"You'll pay for this, Orc scum!" was the last thing Tauriel had heard. She wanted to scream, too, over the dear life she had failed to preserve, but she had not the strength, the well-aimed Orc arrow in her back had seen to that. In such a short time, against all predictions of fate and dictates of societal norms, the young dwarf had become precious to her. He had knocked down all her previous prejudices against dwarves with his openness and easy manners, opposite of what was usual with Dwarves when dealing with other races, especially Elves. He had made her laugh, something Tauriel had done less of since the Greenwood darkened and her father, the royal tanner, was the first casualty of the encroaching spiders. He told her the tale of their lost city and their subsequent wanderings, made her care what happened to him and his companions.
Kili was like a child, who knew nothing of the deep dark of the world and she inexplicably wished to shield him from it all. She thought about his mother, who gave him the rune stone, who undoubtedly was waiting with an anxious heart, for his return.
Kili was her first friend, after Legolas; the women looking down on her for her masculine position as head of the Home Guard, and the civilian men put off by the same thing. Those under her authority treated her with deferential respect. Kili clearly had become attached to her, awed by her Elven beauty and strength.
"You cannot save me this time, Tauriel . . ." Kili had rasped, lying broken on the battlefield, struggling to talk through the blood.
"Tauriel . . ." a warm, familiar voice cut through the fog in her head. "Mellon-nîn . . ."
Legolas. Alas! Was he in the Halls of Mandos, too?
"Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad . . ." His voice trembled, the last word almost completely lost as he struggled to recompose himself. He was his father's son and he would not sob like an elfling in front of the healer no matter how much it tore at his ageless insides. He would wait until the healer left.
"You should go to the King's tent and rest, hir nîn."
"No," Legolas snapped, but swiftly tempered his tone. "Even if I tried I would lay awake. I cannot rest during this suspense between life and death. I might as well remain awake here."
"As you wish, your highness."
Tauriel felt a hand smooth her hair from her forehead to her crown repeatedly. She tried to open her eyes, to move anything, but her body refused to respond.
"Don't leave me, mellon nîn . . . I cannot fight without the realm's second best archer by my side."
Second best!?
Now she really wanted to move and hit him, but still her body felt as heavy as lead and would not respond. She felt his callused finger trail down her cheek.
"So hard and cold in a battle, and yet warm and tender of heart. I fear without you I will become like my father, colder, angrier and more isolated by the century. There is no one who will keep me humble as you do by gently pointing out my errors with unsolicited counsel." A small chuckle escaped the prince, but soon sober silence overtook for a moment.
"You are like the heart of the Woodland Realm: no matter how dark the outside world becomes, the inside remains bright and green. You . . ."
Tauriel felt two warm drops run down the side of her chin. Was he crying? She had never even seen Legolas' eyes become wet, not even as an elfling when his mother left for Valinor. Her hands, which were folded on her breast, began to tingle. Life was coming back. A tear slipped from a corner of her closed eyes.
"You are my heart, the strength that I need to face the darkening day; my spot of green in this dying age."
Legolas' shuddering sigh seemed to blend in with the sound of the gust of wind that shook the fabric of his tent.
"Until I saw you laughing with that dwarf, conversing as easily as you would with me, I thought I regarded you only as a close friend and comrade. At that sight such jealousy tore into me as I had never felt before. I wanted to kill him. The murderous feeling passed when my temper cooled, but the realization remained: I have loved you Tauriel as I have never loved anyone, and never will again, my dearest friend and companion . . . But, these are useless words now!"
Silence followed, except for the shuddering sobs of the Prince of Mirkwood. Tauriel felt his tears on her face and neck again, then his lips pressed to hers. When he felt her own lips move weakly against his, his legs gave out from under him, and he fell to his knees beside the cot and stared at her in incredulous joy.
She had just enough strength to open her eyes and smile.
. . . . . .
Prince Legolas and the Princess Tauriel sat in dark in the gallery of Imladris staring contemplatively at the mural of Isildur and Sauron, specifically at the ring on the dark lord's finger. Even in paint it was compelling and sinister. He had passed by the mural many times in the past on visits to Aragon or Elrond's sons, to see the real ring on pedestal was surreal and unnerving; soon it would be even nearer, by his side, on the neck of a Halfling.
Tauriel tightened her hold on Legolas' arm and leaned her head on his broad shoulder. Legolas turned his head and kissed her copper-colored tresses.
"Must you go?"
"'We are a part of this world . . .'" he whispered.
"It was so simple to say back then . . ."
"It still holds true."
"I wish I could go with you."
"You know you cannot," Legolas said gently, touching her stomach, which was just beginning to swell.
"That does not keep me from wishing. Who would have thought that bringing a report on an escaped creature would turn out like this?"
"Such are the times now, my love, strange and unpredictable." Legolas' grave aspect suddenly brightened a little as his eyes turned on her. "Full of surprises."
Tauriel blinked at him and managed a watery smile. "Such as me becoming the best archer in Woodland realm?"
Legolas huffed. "Since when are you the best archer?"
"Since I hit the target you missed at practice this morning."
"I let you win."
Tauriel gasped. "What arrogance! You did not!"
"I did; to alleviate your dark mood. You were inexplicably angry at everything this morning."
Tauriel shot to her feet. "Fetch your quiver and bow and meet me at the copse by the pavilion."
"My love, you cannot be serious. At this time of night and with tomorrows preparations."
Tauriel gave him a burning look that let him know he would not be getting any sleep until this was settled.
They spent the next few hours in what started out as intense competition soon eased. Their merry laugher soared over sleeping Rivendell and it was like old times, back when they were much younger and the wood was green.
. . . . . .
The Company gathered at Elrond's door to bid their farewells.
"You will come back to me," Tauriel trembling voice whispered in his ear as she embraced him, tucking her head between his neck and shoulder. Legolas felt tears prick the back of his eyes.
"Even from the Halls of Mandos," he said fiercely. They shared what would be their last kiss for a long time.
. . . . . .
Legolas' soft boots whispered against the marble stairways and stone cobbled streets of Minas Tirith as he ran along them; the long sleeves of his silver-blue tunic fluttered in the breeze. The representatives from the Greenwood had arrived for the coronation of Elessar.
He met them as they traveled up the street on their horses toward the royal stables.
"You could have met us in the palace, my son," Thranduil said coolly, but his lips twitched. "No need to have made a spectacle of yourself running through the streets."
"I am glad to see you, too, father."
Thranduil let himself smile as he saw Legolas' blue eyes roam anxiously over the retinue.
"She is here," he said. "Near the back, looking at everything and talking to everybody she passes and showing everyone your son."
"My son . . ."
Legolas took off again, much to Thranduil's chargrin. He soon came upon Tauriel. He stood still in the street and just looked at her. She had dismounted from her horse and was walking along, gently leading it with her hand resting on it's neck, as Elves ride bareback, and the horse gladly obeyed. Around her shoulder was a large sling and Legolas could see a tuft of strawberry blond hair sticking out from it. A woman of the city exclaimed over the baby as she passed and Tauriel stopped to talk with her, her joy spilling over.
Legolas slowly approached them, drinking in the sight step-by-step. As if she felt his presence, Tauriel looked up and the light reflecting off the white towers sprang into her eyes.
"Muin-nîn!"
She hastened to Legolas and he took her in his arms, covering her face and the face of their son with kisses.
"He is beautiful."
" I went argued over many names with your father. Erunestian is the one he finally approved of."
"For once, I agree wholeheartedly with him. A wonderful name, indeed."
Legolas gently lifted Erunestian out of the sling and held him close. The princeling blinked up at him, his brows knitting slightly, annoyed that his sleep was disturbed, but the warmth and solidness of his father's chest soon lulled him back to sleep and he curled his tiny, plump hand against the silver blue tunic.
Legolas put an arm around his wife's waist.
"Come, let us join the others."
The horse seemed to agree, nodding his large head and following after them.
The End
. . . . . . . . . . .
Hir-Nîn: My lord.
Mellon-nîn: My friend.
Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad: Hear my voice, come back to the light.
Muin-nîn: My beloved.
Erunestian: Gift of God.