She is fire. She is life. She is the autumn wind, dashing through the trees yet disturbing not a single burnished leaf. She is mystery and she is the key to secrets and she fears neither Man nor Orc.
She watches from the shelter of her wood, and she sees that this Dwarf is none of these things. He is a curious one to her; bumbling and distracted, yet striding with an assurance he alone understands. He is silent, yet in his own contemplative manner he seems to communicate with the trees and the wood creatures just as she can. He seems a dazzled fool, yet she can tell that he comprehends more than the leader of their company. He is unlike than any Dwarf she has ever seen, and thus she stays her hand at her bow. The madness in his eyes... she has seen it before. Were it any other she would have the nerve to strike him down before he endangered her forest.
But Tauriel stays her hand. Because he is different. He is not alive with the brilliance of sunlight and the enthralling mystery of her forest, nor does he walk with the grace and proud bearing of her people. Yet for his sake she flits away, seeking council before unleashing a gleaming, razor thin arrow into the midst of the intruders. He is strange to her, and so she will grant him his life. For despite his madness, she sees an understanding. He is alike to her, and he will bring no harm to her forest.