Title: Never Say

Disclaimers: Purely for fun only.

Genre: Traditional SICKFIC as you know it where plot might be necessary but is secondary to glorious hurt/comfort!

Rating: T with adult themes

Summary/Set: How Tauriel came to care for her king. Starts where the movie leaves our characters, on Ravenhill.

Pairing: Thranduil/Tauriel

Note: When I am writing, it's mainly for my own pleasure. It's what I'd like to see happen so when I reread it in a few months, years later, I find the story that is completely to my taste.

Balin, Bifur and Bofur hovered considerately, pained and in silence for a while over the grief stricken elf maiden till Bombur waddled up to them, giving each dwarf a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, arm or neck, "Dain wants all losses gathered, lay Kili in his rightful place by Thorin," he urged them for action.

"We've been trying.." Balin indicated the weeping woman on the ground.

"Dear Tauriel," Bofur started again, well aware of the elf's sacrifices for his kind, but not wanting to upset his new king either, who together with the remaining members of the company also would've wanted to be able to start mourning the death of the third in line for the throne. Bombur and Bifur stepped forward, tentatively touching an arm and side of the departed dwarf.

"No!" Tauriel reacted immediately, "there was no time," she whispered, voice hoarse with crying. "We didn't have enough time," she kissed Kili's hand as she held it in her own by her cheek.

"Let me handle it," Thandruil ascertained, letting go of the wall he has been leaning on the whole time. The dwarves looked at each other questioningly, why was the elvenking still here even and why would he get involved, but they stood back to let him do the deed anyway. Thandruil moved forward slowly, his gaze never leaving the daughter of the forest. Reaching the pair, he leaned on his sword and knelt by the distraught archer, eliciting another look in between the dwarves. They have expected the king to order Tauriel away, not get down to her level.

Thranduil reached out slowly to cup her face instead. "Customs are there for a reason Tauriel. They help the living endure and subsist. They will honour your warrior amply and fittingly, at least tolerably, if not satisfactorily for everyone's approval. You need to let go."

"I can't," Tauriel looked into her king's eyes, shaking her head.

"Yes, you can," the king encouraged, gently drawing her hands towards himself, "I'm here child."

The Silvan elf shook her head again, more in disbelief than anything else. It was hard to comprehend why Thranduil would approach her in such a manner, but her grief was more profound than letting disparate thoughts into her conscious awareness. All she grasped that there was another flesh and blood being with emotions offering her consolation. As he soothingly encouraged her, she moved slowly towards comfort till she found herself lurching forward to rest her wet cheeks buried into Thranduil's chest.

The king hissed at the sudden onslaught, his laboured breathing turning into a prolonged moan, "eeasy," he panted. But it was only when he swayed, almost taking Tauriel down with him that her, that her warrior reflexes kicked in and she steeled herself to keep them both on their knees and not toppling over to the hard ground. Involuntary warrior reflexes were at play when she finally took in his paler than usual and clammy face as well, the blueing lips, his usual typically fluid movements giving way to a dazed clumsiness. "You're injured," Tauriel mumbled, concluding in a haze.

"It doesn't matter right now," Thranduil assured, a slight movement of his head towards the dwarves indicating they have better start removing the body while Tauriel's focus shifted slightly to him.

"I..I think it does," the woodland elf pulled her hand back from round the superior elf's side, staring at the blood that now stained her clothes. "You need to lie down my Lord, and let me see. This amount of bleeding needs staunched," she came to her senses somewhat, spooked.

The elvenking glanced towards the ground behind him, making a hesitant move towards it, but the movement made him even more dizzy now that the fight or flight situation was over and his fingers grabbed hold of Tauriel's shoulder more firmly. Tauriel nodded, "I'll help you, slowly, just hang onto me," she encouraged as she manoeuvred him down just as gently as he had done getting her away from Kili previously. Making him lie back on opposite to the side he favoured, the skilled archer quickly removed his shoulder armour and visibly clobbered chest plate. His smooth, grey undershirt was ruined too, allowing bleeding through a long gash that came from his side to his ribs and reached his belly. It would all depend on what lay beneath those tatters but at the sight of such a possibly dangerous wound Tauriel sobered at any case.

"It's not..deep," Thranduil declared, seeing her disorientation.

"Don't move," Tauriel instructed raptly. She ripped some of her long, green robe off and moved to press it on the wound.

The king raised a hand to stop her, flinching, "don't. Not on broken ribs like that," he protested.

Tauriel nodded reassuringly, but placed the item on the gash anyway, trying to press down her fingers under his ribs rather than on them. "Balin! Bofur!" She shouted at the group of retreating dwarves who in the meantime have recovered and were carrying what they came for.

The dwarf warriors looked at each other, worried that Tauriel will refocus on their fallen friend again. Her eyes did indeed linger on Kili's limp form, but she got herself together before long, "can you send somebody down to let the king's guard know that he's up here and injured? I think Elessar will be in charge now. Please."

"But of course," Balin assured, nodding at her, not as much for the sake of the elvenking, but for the woman who defended his kind against all races, including her own.

"If you can, find Melwasúl too, the chief healer. Or any healer," Tauriel fretted, the further paling of Thranduil's face and the slowing down of his blinking not escaping her attention. He was starting to tremble too. "And could I borrow one of your hides?"

"Bofur, you should go ahead, the three of us will manage up here," Bombur convinced the other dwarves as they started their descent from the hill with baggage whilst Bifur shed his overcoat to leave for the king.

"You should've said you were injured," Tauriel admonished, ripping another part of her cloak off for bandages before using the dwarf's garbs to try to keep the warrior king warm.

"Would have you cared?" Thranduil huffed, causing himself a wince with the movement. He closed his eyes to ride out the wave of pain.

Embarrassed, the archer didn't answer the question, "is there anything else I can do," she probed instead, "are you in pain? Is this the best way to lie for you?"

"Leave it," Thranduil breathed softly, never bothering to open his eyes. He was too tired for any movement, even if it would help. Tauriel sighed, troubled. She would've wanted help to come immediately. Where were they? Where was the guard if not protecting Thranduil? And then suddenly she knew. The only reason they would not be around their king was if Thranduil ordered them away. He ordered retreat but he himself did not go. He would go after Legolas, who in turn came for her. Thranduil was alone and injured because of her.

Tbc