Hi, everyone! I fancied giving a Hobbit fic a go for the first time. I've had this idea in my head for a few weeks now after watching The Battle of the Five Armies teaser trailer, and just needed to get it down before I head off to and start university on Monday. I'm moving up to where it is on Sunday and from then I'll be on here very rarely. Anyway, this is a Legriel (Legolas/Tauriel) oneshot, with a mention of the Kili/Tauriel relationship.
In advance, I apologise for any errors in the Elvish language. It's pretty difficult to find the right things and then see if that is indeed the right way of saying it. So many different websites and ways of how things are said. The translations are at the bottom.
I hope you enjoy it. :)
Dead Hearts.
The high screams of clashing swords, the roars from loathsome Orcs and Goblins; the sound of crashing rocks; the whine of arrows flying overhead; the pounding of feet and the harsh thump of a body hitting the floor.
Tauriel's pointed ears couldn't ignore the song of war.
She couldn't, even now, at nightfall and several hours after the battle.
The battle would go down in history. It would be written in ink, sealed inside of tombs, inscribed in an ancient language on the walls – forever embedded deep into the survivor's memory.
The Battle of the Five Armies.
That was what everyone was calling it.
Dwarves, Elves, Men, Goblins and Orcs had fought; two armies with the intent of pillaging the Lonely Mountain, and the other three hoping to defend it and gain some of its share.
Never had the Dwarves and Elves worked in tandem before. Not for centuries - and neither had the race of men. Not for nearly three thousand years.
All that was left to do was for the three victorious sides to lick their wounds and recover any of their dead.
Tauriel sat on a low, wooden stall in one of the many tents her kin had pitched shortly after the battle. The elleth turned her head and peered over her shoulder, wincing slightly at the crick in her neck and clenching her teeth to face the closed flaps.
In the centre of the brown-white material was the tiniest of cracks, but it was enough for the elleth's heightened eyesight to see the faint stream of light bleeding through the open passage.
Outside she could hear the soft pounding of feet, (an Elf could never sneak up on one of their own unless their target was either severely distracted, or the approaching Elf had mastered their own balance and weight on their feet) the clatter of pots and pans, the crackling of a small fire, and muffled voices, some with pain and anguish, others hauntingly wistful.
A light groan felt like a hook tugging inside her nasal and pulling her backwards as she whirled back to a rightful sitting position on her terribly uncomfortable stool and gazed, with forest green eyes, at the dark-haired Elf below her.
The ellon was drowning in his own sweat, so much that it was forming a pool beneath him on his simple white stretcher and colouring his moss green tunic in dark circles. He was much more pale than his usual Silvan complexion, and his eyes – Tauriel noted when he finally opened them – were insanely bloodshot and fervent that he was the very picture of death.
"Harndir…" Tauriel laid her cool hand upon his clammy forehead, frowning in anguish. She was told that the warrior would not make it through the night, and she insisted that she be by his side as he exited this world and walked into the Halls of Mandos.
The mortally wounded Elf's eyelids flickered weakly, and the small flicker of fear that Tauriel detected in them made her heart beat faster.
"Captain…Má?" A shallow breath.
"In the third hour."
The ellon's forehead creased in thought, his lips curling back and teeth grinding in difficulty and the effort only granting him another drawn out bought of pain. He shifted on the stretcher.
"Rest easy," she coached, leaning slightly over him to enforce her command. Despite herself, she felt the smallest of smiles tug at her mouth.
"You fought bravely, Harndir."
Harndir swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes were gradually growing more vacant before her, which were full of life.
The brutal and undeniable truth that Elves were not truly immortal hit her like a Warg sinking its razor sharp fangs into her neck. It was said that Elves shone as bright as the stars to the eyes of men and other races – something that could not be extinguished.
But not even the power of the Eldar could save them from being slain by a sword or any other weapon.
The three fresh puncture marks in Harndir's torso was living, barely breathing proof of that.
Tauriel fought hard to control her breathing, schooling her pale face into one of warm condolence. She fought hard and well against the burning in the back of her eyes, successfully preventing the tears behind them from obscuring her vision.
"Our lands are safe…" he breathed, blinking once, sluggishly.
The words stopped her dead for a moment. Yes, they were safe, but the encroaching darkness surrounding their lands was still indeed present. They could all feel it. The evil they had fought against today was indeed defeated, yet not completely vanquished yet.
And it was only a matter of time until it reared its ugly head again, more powerful and malicious than before.
How long would that be? A year?
Perhaps a decade?
Or even century or millennia, maybe?
She bowed her head for a moment, her long, fiery red locks of hair hanging over her face like a curtain, before rising back up to meet the young ellon's face again.
What she saw did not surprise her.
Harndir was smiling warmly, his eyes half open, despite the salty beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and in his sapphire orbs. Nothing but serenity was swimming in them, and his expression was serene, accepting.
The Captain's hand had long moved from his forehead and now gently clasped her soldier's own, hating the fact that his grip was slackening, and fixed him with a penetrating stare. Even in this heart-wrenching moment, the stubborn elleth composed herself and forced her voice to be soft and caring, despite her throat closing.
"Nínion an gwannad dhîn, Harndir. Nên vêr a lalaith veren n'i a-govenim."
The noir vision of two Elven warriors levitating towards the still body of Harndir was still playing in the forest green eyes of Tauriel, even as she now stood on the brow of the hill that overlooked the desiccated battlefield.
The Daughter of the Forest's hair whipped across the left side of her face, dancing like the fires of Laketown, now smothered.
She had paid her respects to the fallen already, and she mourned for the three dwarves that were among the dead. Although she only knew one, she mourned them all equally.
Kili was too young; full of love and life – a kind soul who always brought some light and laughter into a dark and dismal situation. She loved him.
Yes, she did indeed love him, and it was true to men's belief that Elves only loved once, but she did not love him romantically.
As a friend, however, she could answer yes.
She had no time to respond to his question of whether she could have loved him when he was still hallucinating, for a mighty crashing had echoed across the charcoal sky.
She was not permitted to enter the Lonely Mountain and say he goodbyes to him, despite her gentle pleas, and perhaps that was why the Dwarves denied her passage – to them she did not look as though she cared for them. After all, she was another one of those damned Elves; and one who had seen them imprisoned.
Yet, the fiery haired elleth decided that her goodbye would be said. He deserved it, although he had definitely deserved to return to his mother and continue his life.
His promise to her would never be fulfilled.
Her eyes burned, and her bottom lip trembled slightly.
Pitching her head back, her tremendously long locks of hair tumbling down her back, she gazed imploring up at the starry night sky.
"By the power of the Eldar, I pray that you can hear my voice. I regret that I could only save you once, and that regret will haunt me for however many days I may walk this earth. I ache knowing that your promise could not be fulfilled, and that more of your kin fell, but your courage shall be remembered.
"It is a shame that the world has lost such a beautiful soul as yours, and I feel that the world has grown much darker as a result. Yet I pray that Mahal will be gentle with your soul and will guide you and your kin to the Halls of Mandos. May Iluvatar hallow you all."
Her eyes closed and she bowed her head, her chin touching her chest.
"Losto vê, mellonamin."
A gentle breeze blew across the hill and past her, and she allowed the small smile to curl her lips for a few moments in remembrance of their short time together.
"Tauriel?"
Her eyes slowly opened. She had heard the footsteps from a few yards away, and she had anticipated who the owner of those footsteps was before he had even spoken.
"Ernil-nin," she turned and bowed, the corner of her mouth pinching at the rawness growing in her tired muscles.
Legolas stood at the distance of about two Elves standing back to back, straight and tall and proud, his silvery blonde hair blowing across the back of his neck. King Thranduil's ice blue eyes stared directly at her, but without his impassiveness, for these eyes belonged to the Elf known as Legolas Thranduilian.
They penetrated her in an entirely different way to that of his father's, filling her with a sense of warmth and serenity. Thranduil's caused collectiveness, attention and a passion that was as fiery as her hair. The two Elves were known for their disputes and their somehow remarkable ability to work well together.
"Manke nae lle?"
"Amongst my wounded," the red-haired answered calmly, keeping the edge out of her voice. She really wanted to be alone right now. "Where should I be when my comrades are dying?"
She was rewarded with silence. At least the prince was capable of understanding when she wanted to be left in solitude, even though she wouldn't mind being completely alone at this particular moment.
"You're thinking about the Dwarf, aren't you?" The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable and it irked her to no end, igniting a spark of anger and panic inside of her that was as instant as a crack of lightning.
"Yes, I was, Legolas!" Tauriel hissed, burning him with her gaze. She was not going to be judged by him! If she was a lowly Silvan Elf then what was there to prevent her from conversing with those others of her kind would consider being filth? She was more than half tempted to remind him that they were a part of this world just as much as the Dwarves, or any other race.
What right did he have to be so judgemental and accusing when Thranduil had made it perfectly clear that they could not, and never would be, anything more than friends?
Surely he must realise this.
"Need I remind you that I am not of royal blood? I am a lowly Silvan Elf, nothing more."
The ellon's facial expression made her stomach twist uneasily and drop to the floor. The growing frown between his dark eyebrows made his fair face grow darker by the second, and instantly she knew where she had gone wrong.
The older Elf folded his arms across his broad chest, his newly donned moss green tunic creasing at the arms.
"What did my father say to you?"
Instantly, Tauriel wished for nothing more than for the floor to disintegrate beneath and swallow her whole before materialising again. Anything to escape this horrible situation she had pegged herself in.
She was in the lion's den, and there was no escape.
But she could try.
"I do not know what you are talking about," she lied, moulding her face into a serene mask and steeling her eyes over in cold defiance.
The prince's eyes flashed with fire, somewhat aiming to intimidate her, but she kept her chin raised, levelling her eyes with his. For several seconds ice cold blue bored into forest green, creating a stalemate.
"Tauriel…" he trailed dangerously, dipping his head forward slightly.
She ignored his advancement and made to leave, yet as she passed him his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm in a vice like grip.
Her fiery hair whipped her face as she snapped her head with blinding speed towards Legolas', but his dark expression and harsh tone in which he addressed her name made her freeze, her throat working tirelessly, but unsuccessfully in forcing any words out.
"What did he say?"
She shook her head fiercely, and his grip relented slightly.
"Then I will confront him," with that he let go and spun around on his heel, surely heading towards his father's whereabouts.
"No!" Tauriel cried, stretching out and hopelessly catching air. Fortunately, Legolas stopped in his tracks and tilted his head towards her, urging her to go on.
The elleth took a deep breath, stilling her raging nerves and cast her eyes to the ground.
"I already told you most of it, the rest is simple: You are to stop caring about me the way you do."
Legolas' shoulders tensed, his back still facing her. Tauriel raised her eyes for a second and when she saw him she could've sworn that some of the glowing light surrounding him had dimmed.
"You are forbidden from pledging yourself to a lowly Silvan Elf," her hair swung in front of her face like a curtain, obscuring her sadness. Her voice, however, did nothing to help obscure the sound of her heart breaking.
"Especially me."
Once again the sound of his footsteps caught her attention and before she knew it, his fingers were slipping beneath her chin and drawing her gaze back up to his. His fingers were cool to the touch, enticing a shiver down her spine. She prayed to the Valar that his father didn't pass through and see them.
"Amin hiraetha." She blinked once, startled.
"Mani?"
She did nothing to mask the confusion clouding her eyes.
"Amin hiraetha," the Sindarin warrior and prince repeated softly, gazing down at her with apologetic and loving eyes. She swallowed heavily. Legolas' eyes were an ocean of feelings. They shimmered like starlight and always attracted her own gaze; forever hypnotic. They always desired the truth.
It was because of that hypnosis that she spoke her mind.
The second time in less than a few minutes she was rewarded with silence again. Her heart jumped with fear. She could feel Legolas' heart speed up next to hers, so much so that she could barely tell who's was who's anymore.
The ellon stepped back and revealed an expression of pure shock.
"You…. You're sailing?"
She couldn't bring herself to speak, feeling her throat swelling on her. Instead, she nodded in silent acquiescence.
The strain in her mellon's voice as he asked her why was unbearable to her ears. She wanted to be deaf in this very moment, just so that the tears wouldn't mist over her eyes.
But it appeared that even if she was she wouldn't have been offered any mercy, for the transforming figures of shock, horror and devastation flickered across his face so quickly and so clearly that each one felt like she was being run through by a rusty Orc blade.
"Why?"
The elleth turned to look back at the destructive scene behind her. She drew in a shaky breath.
"There's nothing here for me, Legolas. We came here to fight the evil, and look at the result," she stretched her left arm out over the smoking and bloodied battlefield in gesticulation. "We failed."
"You're wrong."
Tauriel looked over her shoulder, her heart bleeding.
"Please, don't."
Legolas marched towards her. "You're wrong, Tauriel, you are needed here. The world needs you, Mirkwood needs you… I need you here."
"No, Legolas."
"You are running away from your problems, Tauriel. That is not the way of a warrior."
She clenched her fists; ground her teeth together. 'No…'
"You're Captain of the Guard."
She could feel every ounce of his anguish bleed into her and cut her up from the inside out, opening more wounds. With each word his voice grew louder and angrier. She clenched her fists tighter, grasping desperately on to the last tendril of self-control, her nails digging into her palms. She was running low on restraint. Soon, she would speak.
There was silence in the air for several seconds, and then, Legolas said something that he would instantly regret and always regret for many years to come.
"Coward."
A glowing ball that she had not realised was glowing inside of her chest exploded in pure, righteous anger; the colour of red, of fire.
Her anger burned uncontrollably, and was as hot as a dragon's own.
She whirled on him, her eyes ablaze and chest heaving. Her fists were so tightly clenched that they were shaking. Her entire frame was shaking.
Legolas' own anger was palpable, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes alive with fire and wide open; fists clenched as well. His nostrils flared excessively with each breath. The glow that constantly seemed to surround him no longer appeared to her as white, but a horrid crimson.
"I am no coward, Legolas Greenleaf!" she roared, choosing to address him with his other, more preferred surname than his royal one. From just over said prince's shoulder she spied passing Elves, some turning their heads in the pair's direction, others pausing in their tracks and staring.
"Do not be so quick to label me one when you yourself are too blind and scared to stand up to your father's ways!" She had managed to grasp control of her voice this time, tempering it into a low hiss. Each word she spat from her mouth was heavily laced with venom.
"You follow your father's orders without question," (uncalled for since he had decided to leave the realm and search for her, despite Thranduil's orders to keep the gates closed and everyone inside them) "and you are so blatantly snobbish that you cannot even raise yourself even a simple nudge above your little pedestal to stop looking down your nose at everything that resembles a Dwarf in any way!"
Through her blind rage Tauriel noticed the jump in Legolas' jaw and the vein that had risen in his neck.
"You cannot leave," he growled, his eyes forming into slits, and in an instant his anger suddenly faded and was replaced with sadness once more. His ice blue eyes shone apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Tauriel," he said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, causing her own anger to fade, albeit more slowly. "Just… please Uuma auta."
Words escaped her. All she could do was stare at him through glassy eyes.
"De veleth e-guil nîn. Please, don't leave, not when I need you."
Those words meant so much to her. They meant more than anything in the world this moment. And they slowly began to repair her wounds and staunch the bleeding in her heart. More tears misted her eyes, and this time she did nothing to keep them from falling. Wet tracks trailed down her porcelain cheeks, and Legolas' fingers reached up to wipe them away. His touch was as gentle as the wind, soft and fleeting. And it only served to remind her that they could never have what their hearts longed for.
"As you wish, Legolas. She drew another shaky breath, hating herself for her next words. "But we can no longer be friends."
The ellon blinked in surprise, his mouth opening in silent protest. Once again a line appeared across his brow, and his moonlight skin illuminated the hurt expression on his face.
"Mani?" he choked, stumbling back, with a hand over his heart, as though he had been pierced with an arrow.
"I'm sorry, Legolas," she shook her head and began pacing from side to side, fumbling uncharacteristically with her hands. "But we cannot coexist with one another as we once did. If I am going to stay in Mirkwood and keep any peace with your father whatsoever, I must go on as I once did – defend the realm and address you as nothing more than a comrade in arms."
Once her speech had ended she pitched her head up towards him, ignoring the tickling of her hair brushing her face and fighting against the urge to leap forward and wrap her arms around the neck of the devastated prince. It felt like every fiber inside of her being was splitting into pieces, causing untold agony to her heart, but if she gave in to her desire... gave him what they both wanted, his father would discover them within days. King Thranduil's words echoed inside her head, reminding her of the blatantly obvious message beneath them. She was not some royal princess or lady; she was a warrior, and he a prince. She could never relinguish her daggers and bow and wear royal silks, just as he could never escape the constraints of his duty to the royal family to pledge himself to someone so common as her. They were on opposite sides of a river that neither could cross. And yet she had given him hope, despite everything.
Her punishment was having to take it away.
"N – No! Please, Tauriel! Dhen iallon!"
She glided over to him and gently placed her hand on his broad shoulder, relishing in the warmth radiating through his clothing. It was the final time she would ever touch him this way again; the final time she would feel his warmth.
'I am dearly sorry, my love, but it has to be this way... no matter what both of our hearts yearn for.'
Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, even to her own ears. A breath of wind. A ghost whispering in the dead of night. "Amin mela lle. Namaarie."
And then she was gone, her heart in tatters on the hill face behind her, where a broken hearted prince stood alone and broken.
Elvish translations:
Ma? - When?
Nínion an gwannad dhîn, Harndir. Nên vêr a lalaith veren n'i a-govenim. - Sweet water and joyous laughter until next we meet.
Losto vê, mellonamin - Sleep well, my friend.
Ernil-nin - My prince.
Manke nae lle? - Where were you?
Amin hiraetha - I'm sorry.
Mani? - What?
Uuma auta - Don't go.
De veleth e-guil nîn - You are the love of my life.
Cerithon i iest dhîn - I will do your wish.
Dhen iallon! - I beg of you!
Amin mela lle - I love you.
The name Handir means 'Helmet'. You can guess what he died trying to do, since a helmet shields the head.
This is what I would much rather prefer to see, rather than one of my favourite characters dying (again) as I have a terrible feeling that Tauriel will. I think this would also be a valid reason to explain why Legolas is more reserved during the events of the LotR trilogy and why Tauriel is not mentioned or seen. I know Legolas grows an affection for Dwarves as well, starting with Gimli, and it has been speculated that Tauriel's relationship with Kili and an event will possibly help him see Dwarves differently than his father does, but I wanted to focus on Legolas and Tauriel here. If you liked this, will hopefully write more Hobbit fics in the future, but not whilst I'm busy working on my history degree.
I also apologise if there are excessive amounts of Elvish in this fic, but I absolutely adore the language and am basically itching to learn it. Well, history will have to come first before any possible future Hobbit fics.
Once again, I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading! :)