How long did it take for one of the Eldar to fade into nothingness?

Tauriel felt as though she'd been fading for centuries, though in reality it was closer to minutes than years. Up here, on this cold plateau on Ravenhill, it seemed like a far different world than the one below, where every now and then the wind carried a sound to her, a whisper of the work that was going on in the wake of battle. The dead would be collected, counted, mourned. Those who had survived would quietly celebrate their own lives even as they shattered from the grief dealt to them by the loss of those they loved.

A fat pair of tears fought their way through her tightly-closed eyes to soak into the coat she lay on. Kili's coat. She stirred, propping herself up on her hands and opening her swollen eyes to look at him. His eyes were closed, and he was still. So terribly still. But of course he was. She lifted a hand to gently trail her fingertips across his cheek. There was still warmth in him. The heat had not yet faded from his body. How could he be gone?

She dropped her head to his chest and closed her eyes again. She didn't try to stop the tears. Perhaps the faster she let them fall, the faster she would fade. She didn't know what else to do but fade. She had nowhere to go, nothing to hold on to. In spite of the strange moment of almost-bonding that she had shared with Thranduil, he had mentioned nothing about allowing her to return to Mirkwood. He had banished her for defying his will, and given what had happened afterward, she supposed there was no way for him to rescind the banishment and save face with the rest of the Mirkwood elves. So her home was gone, and besides, how could she return there with Legolas gone? He had found her as she was and told her that he was leaving, that he couldn't go back to his life the way it had been before. She understood, all too well, that sometimes there was no going back.

She stretched out beside him, draped her arm across him. She pressed her cheek to the side of his chest and wished for nothing more than to fade.

That's how they found her, long minutes, or hours, later. Once the battle was over and the enemy spent, Bofur, Oin, and a badly injured Thorin had come looking for the missing Kili. Fili, clinging to life by a thread, had been left in the care of the others. Thorin, limping, breathing heavily, bleeding from a dozen wounds he refused to have treated, had led the search by sheer grit. He would not lose his nephews. It would not be allowed. When Dis arrived, and he knew she would, he would not tell her that he had failed to protect her sons.

The three dwarves, each exhausted from battle and nursing their own assortment of wounds, stood for a moment in stunned silence as they took in the scene before them, of the elf warrior curled against the fallen dwarf in what could not be mistaken for anything except grief. They had found Kili at last, but not how they had expected. The most vibrant of their motley group, he was far too still, far too quiet. It was not right. All of them had seen death before. They knew the look of it. And Kili's absolute stillness had the look of it. Thorin staggered, from his wounds, from shock, from grief. Bofur and Oin each took an arm, holding him on his feet.

The noise was enough to rouse Tauriel. She lifted her head, rapidly blinked her eyes until she saw the three dwarves standing before her. Bofur and Oin she recognized from Lake-town, though at the moment she could not remember their names. And the third man standing between them, ragged and bleeding but somehow still regal as grief washed over his face, could only be Thorin.

"I..." Her voice was rusty, her throat scraped dry by exhaustion and sorrow. She tried to swallow. "I tried...I couldn't...there was no athelas...I..."

"There now, there now," Oin murmured, letting go of Thorin's arm to step forward. Tauriel didn't see him; she saw only that Thorin fell to his knees, his gaze riveted on Kili. She looked down at him, tried to tell herself that her time with him was over now. But she couldn't move, couldn't make herself get up and leave. She couldn't let go.

"If there was anything to be done," Oin said, "you would have done it. I watched you do it once. I watched you save his life. And then you got us all out of Lake-town. If there was anything to be done, you would have done it."

It should have been impossible by now, but Tauriel felt more tears welling in her eyes. She watched as Thorin shook Bofur's arm off and surged forward. He dropped down again and gathered Kili close. He brushed Kili's hair from his forehead, tried to will him to open his eyes again. Nothing happened, and he turned eyes filled with fathomless grief to Tauriel.

The tears broke free and tracked down her cheeks as she staggered to her feet. "I'm sorry," she managed. "I'm so sorry."

She took several steps back as the three dwarves gathered around Kili. She started to turn away, but stopped when she felt the stone tucked into the small pouch at her waist. She pulled it out, brushed her thumb over the runes carved into the smooth stone. She closed her eyes, clutched it tightly in her fist. She wanted to take it, wanted to keep it. But it wasn't hers, not truly. She turned back, knelt beside Kili one last time. She reached for his hand, felt the bit of warmth that lingered there, in spite of the frigid air. She gently placed the stone in his palm and closed his fingers around it. She bent down, pressed her lips to his knuckles. A tear splashed down and rolled down the back of his hand.

And then, before anyone could say a word, she pushed to her feet and slowly walked away.


Hours later, with the darkness of night chasing away the last remnants of light, Tauriel walked through the ruined streets of Dale like a wraith. She spoke to no one. She had spoken to no one since leaving the dwarves with Kili on Ravenhill.

She walked through piles of rubble, through crumbling arches and ruined doorways. She felt eyes on her, thought a few people might have spoken to her, but she walked on as though they weren't there. She needed to get away from here, away from all of these people. She couldn't deal with them. Couldn't stand to see the families clinging together with joy that they'd survived. She didn't want to be surrounded by humanity, or sympathy or pity.

As if anyone could understand her grief, the potential that had existed in what she'd lost.

Finally, she saw the gates up ahead. She was almost out of the city. She could skirt around Mirkwood and go…somewhere. She didn't know where. But there were plenty of forests in Middle Earth. She could find a new home. She hoped.

There were ragged men in torn and bloody clothes guarding the gates, but they parted when they saw her approaching. She walked past them, her eyes skating over them, never settling in one spot. She was almost out. She was almost gone.

When she passed through to the other side of the gates, her heart gave a painful lurch that left her gasping for breath. She stopped and clutched a hand to her chest. Every step took her farther away from Kili. Every step led her toward a future where he didn't exist, where she would never see him again. She didn't want to imagine such a world, but what choice did she have?

She started walking again, ignoring the voice behind her that suddenly called out for her to stop. If she stopped she might never start again. Before she took more than a dozen steps, a man dashed in front of her, forcing her to halt. She looked up at him. He was tall, with dark hair to his shoulders pulled back away from his face. His clothes too were ragged, but there was a strength to him that spoke of command and responsibility.

"Your name is Tauriel, is it not?" the man asked.

She found she couldn't speak, so she simply looked up at him and waited for whatever he had to say to her. The sooner he said it, the sooner she could leave.

"My name is Bard. My children said that back in Lake-town our home was attacked by Orcs, and that two elves came. Legolas, King Thranduil's son, and a red-haired woman elf named Tauriel. The elves killed the Orcs inside and saved them and the dwarves who were sheltering there. My daughter Sigrid said that Legolas left, but that you stayed, and healed the sick dwarf with elvish magic. And then when the dragon came, you helped get them out. You saved their lives."

"What do you want from me?" was all she could manage to say.

Bard frowned slightly. "I want only to give you my deepest thanks. You watched over my children, and keeping them safe is a debt I can never repay you for. If there is anything I can do, anything that will help begin to settle what I owe you, you have only to name it."

"You owe me nothing," she said. "I've done nothing deserving of praise."

"I disagree, but just know that you are welcome here. Any time, for however long you would like to stay. Anything else you may need, provisions, or weapons, if we have them, they are yours."

There was a look in his eye that told Tauriel he knew her circumstances, that some witness had told him of Thranduil's banishment. It was pity she saw in his eyes, and she wanted none of it. "The welfare of your people depends in large part on trade with the Woodland Realm, over which Thranduil is king. Helping me would only harm your standing with him. There is nothing I need from you."

Watching her but saying nothing, he reached down and picked up the bundle he had laid on a pile of rubble nearby. He presented her with a bow, and a stiff leather quiver full of arrows. "You appear to be missing your bow. My children said you had one in Lake-town. Please take these. They are not of finely-crafted Elvish make, but they are solid and strong and will serve you well wherever you decide to go."

She wanted to refuse, almost did so. But he was right. Her bow was gone, the one she had possessed for time uncounted. The bow she had drawn on Thranduil to stop him from turning a blind eye on the suffering of the people around him. The very people she was walking away from now. She looked up at Bard. This was a man of strength, one who could help his people rebuild and live decent lives. A man of loyalty who would stop at nothing to keep those he loved safe. This was a man who had literally slayed a dragon to save his people. "I could use a bow," she managed. "Mine was…lost in battle."

He nodded, as though he didn't know the truth, and held out his arms. She took the bow from him, tested it and found that it was indeed solid. She took the quiver from him and hooked it onto her belt. "Thank you. I'm glad your children are safe."

"As am I. If you decide to come back, to here or to Lake-town, know that you will always have a place."

She nodded, and turned away before her eyes could fill again. She would take the bow, but she could cope with no further kindness. She walked away from the town, and into the morass of an endless life untethered by anything or anyone she had known before.


"Thorin! Thorin! Somebody has to find Thorin! We need him!"

Bofur careened dangerously around a corner and knocked into a cluster of dwarves, sending them into an ungainly pile on the ground in the hall of kings. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Bofur called as he spun around and jumped over them. "Must find Thorin!"

He ran through the hall, intent on his mission. A number of dwarves called out to him as he ran, but he ignored them. His heart would not stop pounding. He had to get to Thorin. Nothing else mattered.

He finally found him near the gates, discussing repairs with Dain and several others who had come down from the Iron Hills. "Thorin!" he shouted, pushing through the group of dwarves until he stood face to face with their king. "Thorin, you must come quickly. You must come now."

"What is it, Bofur?" Thorin asked, impatience in his gaze. "Has Fili awoken?"

"No, indeed he hasn't, although Oin says his breathing is better. He wants me to find kingsfoil, although he said it would be better if we had an elf to help us. But no, this is not about Fili. Thorin, it's about Kili."

"What about him?" Thorin asked, covering his grief with a bracing wash of annoyance and anger. "I told you I wanted him prepared and ready for when Dis arrives. That is all I've asked of you. Is it done?"

"No, my king, it is not. But that is because—"

Thorin cursed. "I do not doubt your loyalty, Bofur. You have traveled and fought all along this road with us. You went into battle at my side yesterday just like everyone else. But now that it is time for us to grieve our dead and start rebuilding our lives, you refuse to do the one thing I have asked of you. A task you said you would be honored to complete. So tell me why—"

"Kili is alive," Bofur interrupted. "I have not prepared his body for the pyre because he is not dead."

Thorin's arm whipped out, his hand gripping Bofur's shoulder hard enough to bruise. "What did you say?"

"Kili is alive," Bofur repeated, struggling not to wince under Thorin's punishing grip.

"If you are toying with me, I swear you will regret it."

"Oin and I were preparing to dress him in his armor, but we saw him take a breath. Oin said he is alive. Barely alive, but still, he is not dead yet."

Thorin released his grip on Bofur's shoulder and took off at a loping run. He ignored the fiery pain in his injured foot, and the dozen other injuries that ached and pulled. None of them mattered. He barreled through the hall of kings and into the large chamber, which had survived relatively unscathed, where Oin had set up a number of pallets on which to treat the many wounded dwarves. Thorin scanned the room, then marched to the far end where Fili and Kili lay side by side. Oin leaned over Kili, his ear close to Kili's mouth.

"What is happening?" Thorin demanded.

"He took a breath," Oin said. "He appeared to be dead. We all thought he was dead. But he must have been breathing all along, only too softly and slowly for us to notice."

"Is he going to live? Is he going to recover?"

"There is no way to know. He has a serious wound in his side. It bled heavily, and he sustained numerous other wounds as well. It is a miracle that he is still alive. I've sent Bofur to search for athelas, which may help. It would be better if we could find Tauriel. She healed him once, but nobody has seen her since Ravenhill."

"Do you really think she could help him? Help Fili too?"

"Back in Lake-town, we almost lost Kili to the Orc wound he suffered at Mirkwood. He would not have survived it if not for Tauriel."

Thorin nodded. "We will send out parties to search. If she plans to return to Mirkwood, she will have to go through Dale first. Somebody must have seen her. And if they have, we will see that they tell us what they know of her whereabouts. We will bring her here to help them."

"And if she does not want to come back here?" Oin asked.

Thorin looked back at Kili. In his mind he went back to Ravenhill. He remembered the moment they had come upon Kili, with Tauriel curled against his side and weeping onto his chest. He thought of the animosity he'd felt toward the elves since the day Smaug had swooped in, destroyed Dale and seized their home and his birthright. He thought of Thranduil turning his back on his people's suffering. In the whole of his life, he had not a single pleasant memory involving an elf.

But he did know grief, he knew suffering, he knew pain. All of those things had been in Tauriel's eyes when they'd found her with Kili. And they had been real. He would bet his life on it. That sort of grief could not be feigned.

He closed his eyes. To think, his young, impetuous nephew in love with an elf, and the possibility that love had been returned. He wanted to deny it, to thrash and yell and bemoan the very idea that a dwarf he had helped raise since childhood could fall in love with one of his enemies. A part of him was infuriated, and he wanted to shake Kili awake so he could knock him senseless again. It could not be allowed, he told himself. A dwarf in his company would not be permitted to associate with anyone of Thranduil's ilk. It was impossible.

But he also remembered the dungeons of Mirkwood, and the conversation the elf had shared with Kili that night. He hadn't caught all of the words, but the cadence of their voices had drifted back to him. There had been no animosity between them. There had been caution, but there had also been connection. It had troubled him in those quiet hours, until Bilbo had set them free and he'd had other things to worry about.

Now, staring down at the deathly pale face of his youngest nephew, he could not help but remember the sight of the two curled together in the cold of Ravenhill. Her grief had been real. And if the rumors he'd begun hearing were true, that Thranduil had banished her for defying his will by helping Kili and the rest of his kin, then perhaps he owed her better than blind hatred.

"She will come," he said to Oin. "Wherever she has gone, if we find her and tell her that Kili still lives and needs her help, she will come."