"We will all have an end to this journey one day: some will have a great ending, some will have it bad, but it's the journey that they take that matters, in the end."
End... And Beginning.
The coronation for the new King Under the Mountain had commenced according to plan.
And it was the most extravagant gala Tauriel had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And she felt certain that it would be her last.
Standing proud beside his brother, Kíli struck a dashing image that balanced between royalty and casualness, his appearance only slightly shadowed by the regal figure at his side. Opposite of him, a more diminutive form stood, though no less proud if the expression on her face was any indication. Despite having not personally met her yet, Tauriel knew this to be the mother of Thorin's sister-sons. Perched to the left of her eldest son, Dís cut an impressive image herself; handsome in terms of dwarfish standards, she was a dwarrowdam who struck Tauriel as being both compassionate and formidable. Tauriel could clearly see where Kíli acquired his personality and charm from as she gazed upon the three dwarrows presiding over the gathered assembly of Dwarves, Elves and Men.
A quiet remorse entered her thoughts as she mimicked the actions of those cloistered around her, the assembly bowing respectfully as the new King took his throne. Crown a bit too big for his head, Fíli looked for all the world like a child standing upon that dais, his features exuding uncertainty and a shadow of guilt behind a forced smile. He had long ago been labeled as Erebor's heir in the event that Thorin fell before taking up his rightful place. And fell he did. Hard. Tauriel knew it would be difficult for the young dwarrow, but she felt that with the guidance and support of his mother, his brother and the rest of his kin that Fíli would make a splendid King in time.
As the coronation came to an end, the festivities that she had heard the dwarves were renowned for could begin at last. She just hoped that it didn't result in the wasting of good food being catapulted across the room during the feast. Repressing a grimace at the thought of the story Kíli had regaled about their stay in Rivendell, she briefly wondered if Lord Elrond was ruminating on the past debacle himself.
The sun and moon had risen and set many times over since the dwarves had laid their errant king to rest; an imposing figure carved in Thorin's likeness atop the stone vault that now housed the last remnants of a once great Dwarf. Efforts to clear and rebuild that which had been destroyed during the battle had begun shortly after the interment: the dwarves for Erebor and the men for Dale. Any remaining elves had long since retreated back into the darkness of Mirkwood with Thranduil at the lead, an agreement of peace spoken in exchange for the cold, white gems of Lasgalen.
Though Kíli had been appreciative of the help garnered by the elves during and after the battle, he couldn't say he was heartbroken to finally see them go. He was however disheartened at Tauriel's absence over the past several weeks, but need only remind himself that she had, of late, taken up lodgings in Dale, the elleth donating her time in helping the residents rebuild. His real displeasure only came in knowing that the Mirkwood Prince had also been lurking in Dale for some time now, no doubt on account of Tauriel, for nothing he did was ever purely on a whim.
With the thought weighing heavily on his mind, Kíli excused himself from the political proceedings he had become ensnared in. Wandering the vast hall, he took his time to take in his surroundings and spared a moment to truly appreciate the beauty of the craftsmanship that made up this monument of his heritage.
The Gallery of the Kings surely had been splendid in it's old glory, of that Kíli had no doubt. Having never set eyes upon it before this time however, he was unable to compare the grandeur of then to the resplendence of now. The debris had been cleared, the structure repaired; now the gilded floor glistened, the banners waved brilliantly, and the walls, swashed with specks of gold, gleamed in the torchlight. The damage done by Smaug was all but erased, with the exception of the large opening on the south-end of the hall—rent by the dragon during his escape to Lake-town—which now served as a portico with great pillars of green stone. It was there he finally spied her, a flicker of red dancing above a sea of stout bodies.
Tauriel.
She stood, head inclined to gaze longingly at the stars that filled the winter sky, seemingly oblivious to the festivities taking place in her absence. Kíli smoothed his coat and skirted the many couples twirling about the hall, his booted feet heavily announcing his presence to the elleth long before he made it to her side.
"Breathtaking, is it not?" Puffs of breath mingled with the cold air as she spoke, eyes remaining on the night sky overheard.
Kíli cast his gaze toward her, the silhouette of her ablaze in the starlight taking his own breath from him momentarily. If only she knew how those words affected him, then perhaps he would not be standing here staring like a fool. A smile was his only answer as he turned to take in the beauty encompassing him, the comfortable silence lingering between them like a warm summer breeze. Kíli itched to take her hand, but he knew her well enough to know that this moment of quiet was needed, as much as he knew that she was grateful to him for allowing her to have it just a little while longer.
From beyond the doorway, Kíli caught the faint sounds of a fiddle striking up and he tipped his head to hear the tune before turning to face her, the movement breaking the quiet solitude. "Would you care to..." he trailed off, a hand gesturing to the scene that played out behind them.
"Fighting, defying orders, even saving reckless dwarves, I can do," Tauriel spared a brief glance over her shoulder. "Dancing, I cannot."
She was startled when she felt calloused hands grasp her gently. Kíli pulled her close. "Luckily for you," he gazed up at her fondly, hands warm against her skin. "Despite our circumstances, my mother made sure Fíli and I were properly educated, even in the ways of ruling a kingdom as heirs."
He led her through the motions with smooth confidence, and for a moment, Tauriel was taken with his assertiveness. There had been many such moments between them that had risen—and subsequently passed them by—since their meeting, but none in which Kíli possessed such intensity as he did now. And Tauriel felt herself reveling in his affection.
A hiss of discomfort from Kíli brought her back to her senses as she accidentally stomped his toes, and she smiled at him apologetically, yet his grip on her never wavered as he continued to lead across the floor.
"She sounds like an amazing woman," Tauriel mused after a while. "Your mother."
"She is." Kíli beamed with such devotion for his mother, but there was a hint of guilt laced in his tone as he spoke. "I was so hell bent on coming on this quest that I never stopped to consider what exactly it was I was leaving behind. Of the hurt I had left in my wake. All I cared about was getting out of there and starting on an adventure of my own. But now, I wish I had done some things differently." His eyes took on a sudden sadness that made her heart ache, for him, and for those who had passed through her own life. For Tauriel knew that pain very well.
Legolas bristled at the sight, cold eyes blazing as he watched the young dwarrow draw Tauriel across the open terrace effortlessly.
"It's hard to fathom." Fíli stepped beside him, looking every bit of the King that Thorin should have been.
Legolas frowned. "It's unnatural."
Fíli looked in his brother's direction before turning his attention back to the sulking elf beside him. "It could be worse," he answered casually. At Legolas's glare, he quickly held a hand up in appeasement. "Now, I'm not saying that I am in full agreement of this relationship, but one must admit, they do seem to compliment each other rather well."
Far from being mollified, Legolas remained silent as he processed this observation. He of course had known his captain's true feelings from the moment she had first defied her King; from the day she had openly challenged his authority and called into question his loyalty and lack of compassion all for the sake of one dwarf's love. He had tried convincing himself that he okay with her decision, that her happiness was enough for him. But in the end, the rejection still stung as sharply as any dagger.
"What shall happen, now that your King has his precious jewels and is willing to observe peace between us—for the time being. What will you do now?" Fíli's soft voice pulled him from his bleak thoughts, gaze intent as he awaited an answer.
"I do not know what he will do," Legolas consulted. "For I am not returning to the Woodland Realm." He waved Fíli's questions away before they were spoken by adding, "And contrary to your wondering, it is of my own volition that I am not returning. At least not right away. I will travel to the North, to seek council with the Dúnedain. Where the path then leads me from there, remains to be seen."
It was no secret among Thorin's Company that Tauriel had been banished from Mirkwood in light of her transgressions against her King and kith. It was also no secret that Tauriel had defended the dwarves in the shadow of Thranduil's decision to retreat from the battle or that it was Legolas's choice to swear fealty to Tauriel by standing beside her in the fight to save the very dwarves they had been bred to hate.
Fíli cleared his throat. "I haven't had the chance to offer you my gratitude for all your help," he held out a hand openly. "Elf."
"I'm surprised gratitude is something you are familiar with," Legolas grudgingly took his proffered hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Dwarf."
Fíli clasped Legolas's forearm tightly, hoping the action conveyed his respect and appreciation. "Thank you."
A nod was all the answer Legolas bestowed before turning his attention to the figure of a clearly distressed Balin making his way hurriedly to where they stood.
Fíli stepped out into the cold night air and cleared his throat.
Tauriel seemed to notice him first as she quickly pulled away from Kíli, her pale cheeks flushing slightly. Kíli however appeared dejected as he looked between his now empty hands and Tauriel before facing his brother with a questioning gaze.
"Forgive the intrusion," Fíli cast a slight bow in apology in Tauriel's direction and then turned towards Kíli. "But Bilbo," he seemed flustered as he continued, "is leaving."
"What?" Kíli exclaimed, brow furrowed in confusion. "Now?" He strode to the edge of the portico and he could see that across the plain that sloped down to meet the Gates of Erebor, a small figure was setting out over the bridge. He quickly made to follow Fíli back inside when the sight of Tauriel still standing in the shadows caught his attention. She silenced his protests with a smile and a nod of assurance in Fíli's direction before he raced through the hall to catch up with his brother.
Feet pounding loudly on the stone walkway, Kíli stumbled out onto the Gate. He could just make out Bilbo asking Balin to give his farewells to the rest of the Company with Balin responding in kind that the hobbit should tell them himself. As Bilbo turned back, surprise etched on his weathered face at finding the Company standing there, Kíli and Fíli stepped through the ranks.
"Bilbo," Fíli greeted him warmly with a firm handshake. "We have naught to ask of you to stay, as we will surely be sad to see you go. Will you not reconsider?"
Though not looking forward to the long road ahead of him, Bilbo was determined to once again walk the familiar halls of Bag-End. "I fear I have strayed from home for far too long, and seeing you all now in yours has made me yearn for the comforts of my bed and hearth in the Shire."
Fíli nodded his understanding. "Never a truer friend has passed through these Gates than yourself Master Baggins. Any time you should find yourself yearning for an adventure or the joys of a fine Company, you will always be welcome in Erebor."
At this, several others chorused their agreement at such a prospect, for they had all become very fond of the little hobbit. Poor Bilbo nearly wept at such acceptance.
Kíli finally extended a hand out to Bilbo, who grasped it in return, and the young dwarrow pulled him into a brotherly embrace.
"Fare thee well, Master Boggins," Kíli murmured. "May your days be many and your troubles be few."
Bilbo smiled wistfully. "No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen a friendship such as this. Perhaps the next we meet, you'll have a beard envied by all others."
He turned to gaze fondly at the dwarves standing behind the Heirs of Durin, for the time to say goodbye to his friends had come at last. "Farewell Dwalin" he bade to the gruff looking dwarrow. "Farewell Balin! And farewell Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur and you too Bombur." He gave a curt nod to each in turn, a twinkle in his eye. " May your beards never grow thin!"
"And may you never bear the heavy load of an empty stomach on your return journey!" Bofur's jovial voice carried across to him, grins splitting the somber faces of all the Company at his comment. For it was a known fact that the little burglar carried on so about his missed meals during their quest that his laments of hunger rivaled even those of poor Bombur.
As one, the dwarves, with Fíli and Kíli at their head, bowed before their Gate in respect to the little hobbit. "Goodbye and good luck, wherever you fare! If ever you visit us again, when our halls are made fair once more, then the feast shall indeed be splendid!"
Bilbo smiled graciously. "And if ever you are passing my way, don't wait to knock! Tea is at four," he reminded them. "But any of you are welcome at any time!" With this, he turned his gaze towards the Lonely Mountain one last time. "And Farewell Thorin Oakenshield. May your memory never fade!" Then he turned away.
Kíli was the last to leave the Gate after Bilbo's departure; Fíli had remained longest with him, but with a mumble about returning to his guests, he had finally disappeared back into the Mountain. Overhead, the moon was beginning to set in the western horizon and the plain that spanned the distance between Erebor and Dale was bathed in it's calming glow. Kíli felt a sadness settle around him, though he couldn't place why such a longing would be ailing him now. True, they had just sent Bilbo on his way, but Kíli knew that their goodbyes weren't for forever; he would see the lively little hobbit again one day. Out here in the desolate silence, the soft patter of nimble feet reached his ears, and the sadness seemed to abate as the steps drew ever nearer. A shadow appeared beside him, content to bask in the solitude of the starlight.
"You were right." Kíli admitted softly. "The night is absolutely breathtaking when you're in it." In the dim light he caught a faint smile as she glanced at him for a brief moment, and he knew that the barriers that had been built between them had finally come down.
Kíli tentatively reached for her slender hand. His dark eyes glittered with pleasure and his grin lit up his face more brightly than any moon ever could. "Well, where shall we go from here, I wonder?"