The battle had taken a toll on Tauriel. An arrow had gone through nearly all of her arm, and though it did not have to be removed, it pained her. It would take months before she could shoot again. Whenever she closed her eyes, her mind flashed through image after image of her friends, her allies, all those innocent creatures dying. Were it not for the goblins and orcs then the war perhaps could have been avoided. Perhaps, everything could have been alright.
She was not the only one harmed, of course. Legolas had damage to his leg, and his father refused to let him out of bed. She had taken to visiting him whenever she could, recalling happier times with him. There was nothing like seeing her friend grin with pride when she mentioned their hunts for spiders. Thranduil had taken damage to the chest, and were it not for elvish medicine he would have died. Ever since he had returned to Mirkwood, he had began to spend even more time alone. For hours he would not leave the solitude of his chambers, and when he did look over his land, he did what was best, and made sure it was done quickly. There was no longer debate over laws. It had taken him only seconds to sign a treaty sent over from Erebor. Bard had gotten the right to rule Dale, but he had also lost a leg.
Hundreds of elven soldiers had fallen. As captain of the guard, she now had less soldiers to lead. The ones that lived clung to her, looking for a hope that none were sure was still there. The looks in their eyes, of pure admiration and hope, broke her heart. Before, they had respected her, but now they looked at her as though she could do everything. How much longer until they realized that she could, and would, fail? How long could she keep up the game that things were just fine?
The first time that she had seen him, she had thought that he was still alive. He had been free of any bruises, and surprisingly free of blood. It should have tipped her off that something was wrong, but the sight of someone still alive was too good. All around her were piles of the dead, and the others who were still alive looked as though they could join their comrades at any time. The air stank of the sweat and blood of orcs and goblins, their foul smell filling the air.
He ran up to her. "Are you alright?"
She had nodded. Some distant part of her mind had wondered why he was coming to her and not her family. He had seemed surprisingly fond of her in Mirkwood, especially after she helped bring word between him and his uncle, and had spoken to her when she had come with Thranduil to try to make agreements to try and stop the war, but that did not seem close enough to ignore his family for her. They were friends, but not close ones like she and Legolas were.
"Have you heard word of who has fallen?" She looked around. What had happened to Legolas? Thranduil? Bard? Exactly how many had fallen? Was there a chance that the orcs would return with more of their scum?
He frowned. No reply left his lips.
When she went to the tents set up for dwarves, she had come in only shortly after Kili's uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, had died. According to the healers, Kili had died about an hour before him. Her stomach had twisted, and right in the tent she had retched onto the floor. The pain in her arm had increased.
Some nights she was able to sleep. Some nights she did not replay the images in her mind, and had a peaceful nights rest.
And some mornings, after those nights, she woke up to find her hair braided back in a style that was certainly not elven. Sometimes, there would be beads inside. She would go into her bathroom and find a dwarf gazing in her mirror, looking at his practically nonexistent beard. He would grin over at her, and ask her how she was doing. He would make a joke or two.
She would not respond, just begin to undo her hair with one hand. Her eyes would not meet his, and she would not respond.
He only persisted. "Tauriel, how is your arm doing? Is your medicine working? Are you sure that it is not infected?"
Though no one else seemed to be able to see him, some could at least sense that something was wrong. Thranduil would give her a strange look every time he saw her, though it was usually her side, whichever one Kili was on. Legolas would question how she was, if she needed anything.
"You have been rather tense as of late."
She scoffed. "Why should I not be?"
He did not follow her all the time, but she would often find him with her. He had his bow with him, and still used it, though his arrows could do no harm. He would do anything to gain her attention, anywhere from playing with some of the antlers of Thranduil's past elks, to firing at random spots. She would have yelled at him to stop, to get away from her, but she could not bring herself to be so cruel. All she could do was silently watch and wonder how one could be so happy after losing everything: his home, his family, and his life.
One night, one night when she had gotten so tired of being cold and alone and allowed him in it with her, she woke up with a terrible thought. What if this was all a trick of the Nercomancer, of the darkness that had descended on Mirkwood?
Her stirring had awakened the dwarf next to her. "Tauriel, what is wrong?" He had his arms wrapped around his waist, and had positioned her arm to where he could not accidentally hurt it.
"Nothing, just thinking too much about what happened."
"Go back to sleep. I am here." She wanted to question how he thought that him being there helped to improve the situation, but she could not think of how to say it. He leaned his face into her hair. "You need your sleep."
She did not protest. Now that she thought about it, the dwarf seemed much too kind and too much like he had to be a trick. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep before she could decide whether or not that was a good thing.
She was the one who made peace with the dwarves. Thranduil trusted her to do this, and her coming and going allowed him to further retreat into his silent solitude. Legolas was still recovering, but asked her to bring him back something.
Bard was busy helping to rebuild Dale, but still offered Tauriel the best that he could. He was a hospitable host, one who gave her some of the best food that she had ever eaten. His children, his two daughters and young son, all eagerly questioned her. The girls had gotten their own bows and asked her to shoot with them, and were disappointed when she had to decline. Bain, his son, was eager with his small training sword.
Even after what happened, they spoke with excitement about violence, about war.
What fools, Tauriel thought. What lucky fools.
Erebor was every bit as magnificent as she had heard. The mountain itself seemed to sparkle. The dwarves she saw offered her the best room to stay in, and treated her the best that she could. Underneath, there was a tension that she would refuse something, but she did her best to not cause trouble. Though she never went beyond business and politics with the dwarves, she knew that they were a good race. She personally saw to the crowning of queen Dis.
"That is my mother," Kili said. His eyes were wide. "I think she will do wonderful." He frowned. "Not that Uncle Thorin would not, but..."
After the crowning, she had met with and personally talked to her.
"I have met your family before, and it was an honor to see them. I am sure you as just as good as, if not better than them."
The woman had smiled at her. "And it as an honor to meet such a trustworthy, good elf like yourself."
She questioned him one day on what he knew about the rest of his family, or at least the ones that were dead. "Why do you spend so much time with me? What about your family?"
He had frowned, his eyes leaving her. "They are fine."
"Do you know that for sure?"
"Yes... I know Fili is fine. I saw him again at Erebor, and he asked me how things were. He is doing much better." He sighed. "I have not seen Uncle Thorin, and I have no idea what that means for him. I can only hope that he is alright." He looked up to her ceiling. "But he is my uncle, and I know that he can take care of himself."
He wrapped his arms around her chest. Her arm had healed, and she was able to shoot again. He was asleep, his face leaned into her hair, into a braid that she could not bring herself to remove. After her long, tiring day, he had congratulated her on all of her hard work and effort. Sleep had come easily, at least for a while. Now her eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling to her left. Kili was mumbling something in his sleep, something that she could not quite decipher.
With blankets piled on top of her, and a strong, warm dwarf next to her, she was hardly cold. Still, a shiver ran up her spine. How long could this go on? How long could she keep this up? Legolas's leg had healed, and they spent more time together. His questions about her were getting more and more specific. Her soldiers desperately awaited for her next order, and would have done whatever they were told, no matter how ridiculous. No matter how much Kili tried to reassure her that everything would be fine, that none would ever find out, she knew differently. How was she supposed to explain this? What would the others think?
She listened closely.
"So beautiful." He tightened his arms around her chest on impulse, as though he was subconsciously afraid that someone would take her away. "Please shoot with me."
She got her tenth bulls eye in a row. Kili clapped for her, and whooped into the air. "You did it, Tauriel! I knew that you could do it!"