Tauriel blinked, opening her eyes. The quiet sounds of morning filled every little part of the vast room she had been lay down in. At first, she needed a couple of minutes to actually understand what had happened and where she was; apparently it was one of the chambers in the Woodland realm; not her own, though, even though one would think it would be the easier way. However, someone had thought that it would not be smart to place her in the room she had been always calling her own. Not now. Not after what had happened before a couple of days, during which she had been completely unconscious.
There was nothing strange about the fact that she had been lying there so long; her body needed rest after being used so much, after being hurt so much. So did her mind. Truth be told, never before had she been in a situation like this one; maybe when she had lost her parets, but it had been so long ago that she could barely remember that. Right now, fully conscious of what had happened, she would have to wrap her mind around all of that. The loss of the one she had cared of so much. Her best friend's departure. Even the fact that she was still not welcome in the place she had always called home. It was simply too much.
Now, as she laid there, trying not to think of the past and simply focus on what was surrounding her: the little sunbeams that managed to get through the layers of clouds and crowns of the trees to fall into the room, filling it almost completely thanks to its white walls and floor. The sweet scent of apples that had been gathered in the autumn... Legolas helped her with that, making sure she would have not fallen from the tree. Quiet sounds of the elves moving across the halls and outside, a couple of voices intertwined into one in Tauriel's head pulsing with pain. If not for the fact that she was so overwhelmed by the sorrow, she could be happy; even despite the fact that her whole body was so weak and hurt so much.
Trying to stand up, she realized she was not quite able to move at all; every single little motion was harder than anything else she had ever experienced, so she decided to lie still, even though it did fill her with strange despair and irritation. Never until now had she been completely incapable of moving. Chained to the bed, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, realizing that her chest ached as well; apparently some of her ribs had been broken during the battle with the orc that had murdered Kili. At the thought of it, she felt her stomach clench and even the taste on her tongue became slightly bitter. Trying to push her thoughts away from those moments, she did not even realize when she had slipped back into deep, dreamless slumber.
A couple of weeks had passed. The majority of Tauriel's physical injuries had already been healed by the best healers that were available; after all, the battle had taken a great part of the elven folk, and quite a lot of the inhabitants of Mirkwood were wounded as well. All of the funeral ceremonies had already taken place, and the former captain could feel strange still come to the woods. It was not the usual cheerful serenity – rather an unpleasant quietude mixed with sorrow and mourning. No happy songs were sung those days. No elf dared joke amongst the trees. Even the flowers seemed to mourn those who had fallen in the great battle.
It was one of such silent days when the woman had been called to stand before the elvenking. With her head bowed, she walked to the great hall where the king sat with his crown of bare sticks. Tauriel was not sure whether those were a sign of the winter or the sorrow that filled Thranduil's heart. Suddenly, she felt awfully guilty, sorry for what she had told him back then, when she had seen him wandering across the streets of Dale, quietly crying over the bodies of his people. Now, she understood he was not heartless; he was afraid of losing those who were close to him. But now, it was too late. Had she been smarter back then, she would have never said anything so hurtful to the king.
"My lord," she spoke at last, realizing that although she had come, the man had not even paid one look at her, sitting with his head leant heavily on his hand, as if all the things that had been were a burden too difficult to be carried by one person only. Her heart clenched with pain and she closed her eyes, feeling tears of guilt burn her eyelids.
"You are healthy now, Tauriel," he answered after a moment, his voice quiet and gentle, as though he did not remember anything of their conversation during the battle. As if he was not angry at her at all. Maybe that was the reason why he had not come to her when she had been lying in the room, alone, with the air heavy with memories and pain. Maybe he had simply needed time to forgive her – or at least to make it possible to speak without suffering apparent in his voice and the way he looked at her. But he still did not raise his eyes, he still did not glance at her: who knew, maybe he was afraid of what she would see in his cerulean orbs.
Yes, he was right; she was healthy now, and even the sorrows and wounds the battle had left in her heart and soul had begun to heal. It would take much longer for them to scar completely, yet she had to admit she was truly thankful to the lord for taking her back into the Woodland Realm, at least just to help her get better.
"I am glad to see the colour on your face again, Tauriel," he continued after a moment, at last taking his hand away from his face and tipping his chin up. That was when the woman could see the king she had always known in his face. "I am happy to see you alive. From the look in your eyes I can tell that although it was a hard path to go through you have learnt your lesson – and that is something I have to be thankful for as well."
Yes; it had been the most difficult lesson to learn, she had to say, but the king was not the only person who was thankful for it. It had hurt, it still did, of course, but Tauriel was glad she was no longer the same reckless young elf she had always been. Apparently it was a lesson she had had to go through, even though it had been the most painful thing she had ever experienced. The only thing she regretted was the fact that so many had to lose their lives so she could see that. But on the other hand, was it not what had to be?
"You have always been like a daughter to me, dear child," Thranduil's voice became softer and quieter, the look in his eyes loving. "However, you have done things I cannot approve. You have been disobedient and you have disappointed me greatly. And still, I am ready to forgive you, I already have. Nevertheless, you are hurt now. Even if I allowed you to stay here, you would not be able to fulfill my orders properly. You need rest."
Barely did Tauriel bite her tongue not to say something in protest. For although she had learnt her lesson, she was still pretty fierce inside; the flame in her heart, although stifled, was still passionately ablaze.
"What do you mean, my lord?" she asked at last, the tone of her voice betraying that she was in concern. Why could she not stay here? It was the place her heart longed for; it was the place she could, from all of the world, call home. Where would she go? What other place could bring her comfort this place would not be able to provide her with? "Must I leave? Now? And where?" She knew she should not ask such foolish questions in a voice she would use talking to her friend, confessing her fears. But then, the elvenking had always been like a father to her. He was the one who could read her heart and soul.
"Imladris," explained Thranduil, smiling lightly. "The place for you is ready. It is both a punishment and a sign for my love for you, Tauriel. You have always been close to my heart, and you have used this proximity to pierce it several times. But I have never stopped loving you like I would a real daughter. Stay there as long as you see fit. You need it; and so do I. Once you think you are ready to come back, I will prepare a place for you here. But not now."
Tauriel listened to the king's voice, not able to believe it was all true. He had brought her back just to tell her she could not stay any longer? He was sending her back into exile, even though he knew she had nothing but this place, even though almost deserted. Clenching her fists and trying to hold back her tears, she stood there, looking for any appropriate answer, but there were no words in this language or another that would express her feelings and were proper at the same time.
"You can take whoever you want with you, so they would escort you there. I wish not to hurt you during the long way that is awaiting. It is not something you would not be able to stand, Tauriel. It is something that will teach you more than you already know."
No matter how tempted she was, the former captain knew she could not fight back. Those words hurt her heart, but maybe he was right. Knowing people's thoughts and hearts, Thranduil was aware of the fact that she would not be able to continue her duty as the guard of the Woodland Realm. For although her loyalty was now stronger than ever, she was still too hurt, her memories would not leave her alone. Not now.
She needed rest. Imladris was said to be a place where all of the sorrows could leave one's heart, filling it back with joy and comfort. Thranduil did not try to harm her; although he had told her that it was a punishment, it was in reality an attempt to help her feel better again, and after a moment of anger, Tauriel calmed back again. There was another wound in her heart: a little, painful prick, but it had touched the right part of it. She had not become furious, rather humble and understanding, realizing that it was for the better.
"I see," she replied at last, taking a deep, soothing breath. "I do not want anyone to go with me; I do not want to hurt anyone else," she added after a moment, raising her eyes again, too meet the king's ones, now filled with nothing but surprise. It was obvious he was close to protesting, but he had no power over her: she could make her own choices, and if she thought that it was the way it should be, he would let it be so.
"So this is what you want," he spoke only, Tauriel unable to hear the immense sadness in his voice. Yes, he was worried, and he knew that he had unintentionally hurt her. But there was no other way to teach her. He was rigorous; the more he cared for someone, the stricter he was towards them. But that did not mean he would ever be cruel to them. The only one he would ever be cruel to was the enemy. "I understand. I will not tell you anymore what you should or should not do. You are out of my reach, no longer being my subject. You are on your own, Tauriel, and I hope you will use your freedom wisely."
With that, he sent her back, letting her take as many clothes and weapons, and as much food as she would need on her way to Imladris, finishing his words with a gentle fatherly blessing which she accepted and thanked for before turning back and leaving.
Being allowed to stay until the next day, Tauriel spent another sleepless night, waiting impatiently for the sunrise. Never before had the stars brought so little comfort; they almost irritated her, especially when she thought of the conversation she had with the one she had cared for so much. Her thoughts escaped to Ravenhill, where she had left the talisman, the only thing she had from him, and a tear rolled down her pale cheek. He was long buried in the earth, the ground he had always loved, being an heir of one of the Dwarven fathers.
As soon as the first sunbeams adorned the colourful skies, Tauriel took her things and quietly left the room, heading towards the main gate. There, she said her goodbyes to the ones she had been superior to for so long, then made her way forwards, only barely knowing the way to the place she was going to. But everyone knew what Imladris was. Everyone knew lord Elrond, and she did not have to be afraid that she would not find her way.
Long were the miles of walking. Tauriel did not hesitate even once, not stopped on her way. The surroundings brough a strange comfort to her, soothing her nerves and taking the grim thoughts away from her. The air was chilly and her breath was visible, creating little white mist right before her lips. Feeling the cold bite her skin, she hid her hands in the pockets, looking for some warmth. The winter was wonderful that year, though, no matter how bothersome could the chill be. Fortunately enough, there was no wind, so the way was not as difficult as one would assume, and under the trees, there was not much snow. However, once she left the woods, entering the vast plains, she had to struggle with the deep drifts.
By the end of the day, Tauriel was cold and felt the clothing on her stick to her body from wetness, and yet, she did not plan on giving up. After the difficult, cold night, she resumed her journey. That day, and the next one, and the following, until she passed the plains, reaching the edges of the mountain-chain.
Those were not the safest parts of the Middle Earth. All of the goblins and orcs lurking in the darkest corners were ready for such an easy prey. Right now, Tauriel understood why Thranduil was so worried about her. She had not thought of the fact that not all of the monsters that had taken part in the battle had died. There were still the ones that had survived. They would want to take their revenge, and it was not only death that could await her. There were so many much worse things than that... torture being the best one.
Wrapping her coat around herself, she moved on, now slower and with more carefulness than until now. The wind in the mountains bit her cheeks, ears and fingers, but that was not enough to make her turn back; especially since she knew that even if she turned back, she would have to pass this part of the path that was not really safe. There was no going back now. She was not the one to do such a thing.
With her numb fingers no longer stuck in the pockets but clenched on the handles of her dual blades instead, she slowed down even more. One of her ears twitched slightly as she heard a soft noise, but soon, she was to discover it was nothing but a little rock pushed down from the hill by the merciless wind. Yet now, every sound, even the gentlest one, sounded like a threat, every breath sounded like a noise of a battle. Those were not the parts of the world she could trust: here, even the ground seemed to be treacherous.
Since the clouds covered the skies above, no longer was Tauriel able to say how late it was. She knew she would not be able to pass the mountains in one day, and there would be a couple of nights she would have to spent hidden in a cavern, but she had been ready for that since she had left her home.
Only when the darkness came, she realized that it was not just what she felt: those had really been hours of walking. The pain of her tense muscles and tired feet mixed with the cold, what was not pleasant at all. Yet being a warrior, Tauriel was used to things worse than that. Now, she blessed the fact that the elvenking had allowed her to return to Mirkwood at least for a couple of weeks, what had let her get better. Even now, full of physical strength, she had to admit that this journey was hard and exhausting.
Unable to walk any further, she found a cave and walked around it to make sure there was no-one beside her. It was not the deepest one, but maybe that would make it safer, since she could see it whole in the pale moonlight, that managed to break through the thick layer of clouds. Having pulled a blanket from her bag, she curled up in the corner, but did not fall asleep at once. Even covered like that, she felt cold biting on her skin, luckily the wind could not enter; it simply sang loudly, trying to break in. For some reason, this sound, along with the gentle feeling of safety, even if it was fake, were soothing enough, and before she realized, she was already asleep.
Some weird sensation woke her up. The interior of the cave was now completely dark, since the moon had left its previous position and hidden behind the clouds and mountains no longer could break into the cavern. The wind had already calmed down a bit, and although she would have presumed that it would soothe her nerves, she now felt even more uneasy than before. Something was wrong. No longer was she safe there. Unwrapping herself from the blanket, she quickly pushed it into the bag and reached for the blades at her belt. There was a shadow moving in the darkness, and thanks to her elven eyes, she could see it, blurred and faint. Her grasp on the handles tightened, but she felt her heart sink as she saw the ugly, black face at the entrance to the cave.
No, it was impossible.
It was the very same nasty orc that had killed Kili; Tauriel would recognize his face everywhere, even in this dark, terrible place. Yet until now, she had been convinced that Legolas had killed him – she had heard him reporting that to his father. A couple of brief words... but there was no doubt, he had killed him and she had thought there had been no chance of him surviving. No-one would have survived such injuries. And yet, there they were, facing each other, his lipless mouth forming an abominable smile – if this grimace could be called that.
Without a second thought, she quickly pulled a blade from its sheath, looking straight into those bicoloured eyes. But the orc was not surprised to see her awakened; his hand wielding a terrible sword was ready to strike – and yet, for some reason, he had not done that yet.
There was no use of bow and arrows in a place such like this; therefore Tauriel did not even try that. Instead, she readied herself, narrowing her eyes as she took a deep breath and made a step towards the foul creature before her. That was a sign for him. With his smile widening even more, he approached her in a couple of long steps and attacked her first, apparently trying to hit the spots in her body that would make her unable to move. Blessing the fact that she was pretty deft, she managed to avoid the strikes, but even she, an elf, was not indefatigable. Especially not in such a state, almost violently pulled out of her sleep, cold and tired from the long way she had behind her.
A grunt escaped her when she felt his massive fist reach her back, sending her right to the ground; it was not the end of the fight, though. She was not the one to give up so easily – not when she knew what could happen to her if she did that. Reaching the other's calf with her blade, she quickly stood up, but the orc, even though a small sound of pain left his mouth, was ready for that; barely did she avoid to be punched in the face, but the next strike was more precise, and she could feel the burning in her chest as his fist met her chest. The power of this hit pushed her against the back of the cavern, and she lost her breath for a longer while. Her eyes wide open, she stared at the other approaching her once more, unable to do anything.
The black fingers got tangled into her fiery red hair, pulling her up towards him once more and she screamed shortly, reaching her own hand up, feeling the blade of her dagger sink into her opponent's skin. But although she could hear a growl of anger, the grasp on her locks did not loosen up even a little bit. Moreover, he pulled the knife out with his other hand and threw it away before pushing his back of his sword against her throat, skillfully, so he would only choke her a little, but not hurt too severely.
"Let me go, you filth," she spat out, glaring at him with hatred in her green orbs, the muscles of her jaw twitching a bit in fury, but that seemed only to amuse him. His lips parted a little bit once more, bowed in a nasty smile.
"Do you think, she-elf, that I would have followed you such a long way just to let you go?" he growled, those words causing him quite a lot of problems. Used to speaking in the awful speech of orcs, he hardly ever used the common tongue. And even when he did use it, it sounded roughly, barely resembling its original tone.
So he had followed her. He knew who she was, and now, he came to kill her. But from what she had seen until now, Tauriel could say that it would not be a simple, quick death. Although the fight had not lasted long, she could see that he avoided hurting her too much. He had simply tried to disarm her – and eventually, he had managed to do that. On the other hand, though, not completely. The pale fingers of the elven warrior clenched even tighter, and she could feel the handle bite the inside of her hand. That action brought a dreadful laugh from the orc.
"I would not do that," he snorted. "Just one wrong move and you will be beheaded."
At first, the elf wanted to agree to that. At least that would be a quick death. However, no matter how hard she tried, she could not force her hand to move. Her body was clinging to life desperately, not allowing her to do anything that would push her to certain death.
"As I thought," he mumbled and then, she felt a strike of pain, and darkness claimed her again.