She was but a healer. Her mother would have been insulted, had she been alive to hear it. For all her life she had been raised to be the best, to make sure all wounds were healed. And though she was proud of her skills, there were other healers. Elves were famous for their medicine.
There was only one captain of the guard. Tauriel had truly been the best of the best to earn the position, and she took all duties associated with it.
One of those duties was to find the prisoners after their escape, and by barrels of all things. She had heard the news not from the lips of her wife, but from the mouths of gossips.
Tauriel had changed since the dwarves arrived. She had been fascinated, spending more time getting answers out of them then at home. Formerly, she had never so much as had an opinion on the race.
Though she had hoped, inside their home she had discovered the truth. Spilled across the floor was whatever Tauriel did not need for her quest; it was clear that she expected it to be picked up without complaint.
So she picked everything up and put it away. If Tauriel came back home, everything would be back in order for her, as if though nothing had changed.
She did not try to see if perhaps something held her up and she had been unable to leave yet, or if there was a chance that she could go after her herself. This was her fight, and Tauriel did not need someone chasing after her.
Besides, it was not as though she could fight. She was only a healer.