Legolas did not really remember when she had entered Greenwood. In fact, he did not remember her at all. She had just appeared. Yet no one had questioned her at all, not her prestigious and almost ridiculous skill with weapons, nor her fire-red hair, nor even how so young an Elf had become Captain of the Guard. He shrugged, however, and sauntered out into the forest, killing a few innocent arachnids by means of sport, as he passed out of the sight of the palace. And then-
Thrandullion nearly dropped his bow in horror. Red hair! Válar, red hair! His thoughts whirled in a jumble. She said she was a Silvan Elf-she has red hair! A relative of the Kinslayer….did Maedhros have a secret child out of wedlock? And if it was so, she would not be of the Laiquendi, but of the smooth-talking, back-stabbing Noldor, the Kinslayers of Gondolin!
He turned and sped back towards the palace, but as soon as he saw the Elven-maid, he stopped, and all his thoughts vanished. He was left grasping at the dark. Legolas knew that he must tell his father something-but what?! Oh gods, what was it?
He nearly pulled at his hair in frustration.
Some time later
Legolas had this vague supposition that there really should no be Orcs right be Thranduil's palace, and he really should not be wasting his arrows at such close range, and most of all, he really shouldn't be following this errant Captain of the Guard. She was deserting her post, running after these dwarves, the little idiot. And yet he did, and actually went with her all the way to Laketown. And somehow…she glowed there. He could see it through the window. By Angband, what in Nessa's name was she doing? Setting her dress on fire? He heard her speaking. It wasn't Sindarin. Maybe it was Quenyan. Then and again, how did a Silvan Elf known any of that ancient language?
And then he traveled with her to Gundabad, which was far too close. This he caught on to. "There it is." breathed Tauriel, pointing on the iron walls.
"Um….I think it should still be a few leagues away. We've only been riding for about a day." ventured Legolas.
She turned on him. "Nonsense! Everything is perfectly the way it ought to be, geographically, morally, it's very correct in every aspect of Tolkienology. The one who cries Eä and makes Jarr Ilúvatar's world more politically correct would never make a character that goes against the One." She tossed her red hair. "Everything is perfect."
Legolas blinked. Everything is perfect, just like it should be. Yes, except you're a traitor and I'm gallivanting around with you, whispered a little voice inside his blonde head. Legolas ignored it.
The great Battle of the Five Armies was even more confusing, from using a poor disabled cave troll to knock down a poorly-built tower to running up falling stones, yes, how he did that was beyond him.
But seeing Tauriel kissing the dead dwarf made his stomach turn. So he left, and following his father's suggestion, went into the Wild to seek out this one called Strider. Having no luck, he went to Rivendell, and there found a bratty mortal boy, about three years old.
Ah well. There was no hurry.