A/N: This chapter brings us to present times (those of you who have already read the first chapter may notice a few differences as I realized that, to make this story feasible, I'd need to remove some modern references). Enjoy, and my advice to you would be –don't jump to any conclusions about anyone just yet.


Chapter Two

They Come in Threes

Thirteen Years Later…

Tauriel and Marci stepped out of the court house a few minutes before noon. The last days of a Boston summer clinging to the skirts of autumn and the sun already dipping low in the sky. In a few weeks she'd have to fish out their coats from hastily packed boxes, sorting through the jumbled mess her life had become.

Everything would be pumpkin flavored in no time.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," Marci said, fishing in her purse for her car keys.

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "What were you expecting? Judge Judy?"

"No, but Legolas didn't even show up."

Tauriel flinched a little. The official copy of the divorce decree was clutched in her hand, feeling much heavier than a dozen pages had any right to. She hadn't expected him to come, not really.

"He didn't need to be here, it was uncontested," she said, as they crossed the busy parking lot.

The judge had merely verified everything in the paperwork, asked a few questions for clarification, and then signed her approval. It had taken all of fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to bring what was meant to be a lifelong contract to an end.

Tauriel was, in truth, glad Legolas hadn't shown up. She didn't regret it, the divorce, not really. But she hated to hurt him. He was a good man, a good father, but she didn't love him. Not like he wanted her to. She never had, and she knew that to keep on pretending would only make things worse. But she'd be lying if she said that, after nearly fourteen years of marriage, she wasn't a little depressed.

She felt like a failure.

"How's Jaimie holding up?" Marci asked as they weaved between the vehicles.

They both had full work days ahead of them. The hospital was only a few blocks away and Tauriel had walked. She'd told Marci it wasn't necessary for her to drive across town to attend the court hearing, but her best friend had been insistent.

"She's…" Tauriel hesitated, unsure what to say of her daughter's reaction. Indifferent seemed harsh and she had a hard time accepting it as truth; surely her daughter was just concealing her true feelings.

Jaimie loved Legolas, had always had the tendency to be a real daddy's girl, but she'd informed them both when they'd told her of the impending divorce that she would be living with Tauriel. They'd both been surprised (Legolas rather heartbroken), though Taruiel had secretly been blessedly relieved. Her daughter meant the world to her even if they'd been struggling to communicate effectively for the last year.

In truth, she'd been terrified to be alone, which was largely why it had taken her so long to file. She was thirty three, hardly a spring chicken, and she hadn't been single in over a decade.

"She's doing alright I guess, excited to start at a new school," she said as they stood beside Marci's green Subaru Outback.

"Strange kid, I would have hated my parents if they'd made me switch schools," Marci said.

Tauriel shrugged helplessly and accepted her lab coat, which she'd stored in her friend's car during the hearing.

"Listen, Tauriel," Marci said seriously, "Have you considered that maybe now is the time to, you know, come clean?"

Tauriel froze for a moment and swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. She didn't have to ask what her friend meant. Most people had a few skeletons in their closet, Tauriel only had one. A big one.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea Marc, one emotional blow at a time I think," she said, slipping her arms into her coat. A familiar acidic feeling was boiling in her gut.

It was a conversation they'd had many times, always with the same outcome. It never felt like a good time, like the right time. Taurile knew that she was just afraid, afraid of losing the only thing that really mattered to her –Jaimie. Fear had kept her from doing a lot of things in life, and though she'd made progress, she had a long way to go.

"Hey," Marci said, and braced a hand on her shoulder, "you alright?"

Tauriel cocked a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, I mean no happy marriage ends in divorce. I feel better… relieved, just been a hell of a few months."

Marci drew her in for a quick, tight hug. "I'll be over with Terry this weekend to help you and the kiddo unpack-"

"You don't have to do that Marc."

"Hush, it's an excuse to drink wine and hire a babysitter. Two of my favorite things," Marci said and Tauriel chuckled.

Marci and her husband Terry had three children, all under the age of ten. Tauriel had no idea how her best friend of over decade did it, but wine was certainly a key part of it. She didn't care to think much of the early days of her own motherhood; they had been difficult times to say the least. Sometimes she thought she was still trying to make up for the sleep she'd lost in those first few years of Jaimie's life.

"Alright, but I'm not making anything. We'll probably just order pizza."

"Perfect, and please remember to call me if you need anything. You have a habit of falling off the deep end and not mentioning that you we're thinking of jumping over board."

Tauriel rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Yes, mother. Now I really need to get back to work."

Marci groaned, pouting with disappointment. "You just got divorced, you should be able to take the rest of the day off. We could get lunch and go shopping!"

Tauriel raised a brow. "What about those deadlines you were whining about last night?" Marci worked from home, writing and blogging fulltime for a variety of websites.

"Damnit, don't remind me. Fine, fine. Back to work with you, crazy lady."

They hugged and Marci climbed into her car and zoomed off, but not before extracting a strict promise that they would hang out a lot more now that she was back into the 'single world'. Tauriel had a terrible, sneaking suspicion that a slew of single men were soon to be thrown her way. Wanting to 'play the field' had little to nothing to do with her divorce, she'd only wanted to get out from under at least one lie. Besides, Legolas deserved someone who could love him like he wanted, like he needed, and she had proved over the long years of their marriage that she was not that person. She loved him like a friend, like a brother really, but the lack of passion between them had rubbed them raw. Strained what had once been a strong relationship.

Tauriel shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and began her walk back to the hospital, in no real hurry.

Her divorce decree felt hot against the back of her hand, burning a metaphorical hole in her life. She hadn't lied when she'd told Marci she felt relieved. She did. At least ten pounds lighter, in fact, but she was also more than a little sad.

Her mind wandered, as it so often did, to a spontaneous decision she'd made so long ago and how it had changed her entire life. She tried not to let it bother her, for Christ's sake it had been over a decade, but it was like an infected wound that wouldn't fully heal. It was the pivoting point of her life and everything felt like a ripple that came after.

That was the price of secrets, she thought, they never let the past lie. Secrets demanded to be remembered.


Tauriel realized, belatedly, that she should have expected it.

"You can't be serious," she said pointlessly. She felt dizzy and disjointed.

Of course Brent was serious. Their Chief of Medicine was always serious. In the six years Tauriel had worked for him she'd seen him crack exactly one smile and that had been after at least four glasses of Champaign and only because his least favorite member of the board had fallen off stage at a benefit dinner.

Brent had the decency to at least look a little uncomfortable. "I'm afraid so, but I've already spoken to our sister hospital-"

"St. George?" Tauriel spat. "It's one of the least respected hospitals in the city and has the lowest pay grades."

Brent pursed his lips at her. "I'm afraid I have no choice-"

Tauriel lost her composure, all but bellowing at the aged, toad like man. "Since when do our benefactors run this hospital? Since when are they permitted to decide which doctors can and cannot work here? I'm the best surgeon Greenmeadows has, which is why you made me Chief Surgeon, remember? Or has the six years I've dedicated to this place meant nothing?"

Brent sighed. "Tauriel, pleased don't make this harder than it has to be-"

Tauriel lifted a hand and rose to her feet. She could think of a thousand awful things to say, and she really wanted to shove his golden name plate as far up his –but no. No, she would allow herself some semblance of dignity.

She left the room without another word, slamming the door behind her so hard that the candy dish on the receptionist's desk slid to the floor with a crash, skittles flying in all directions. The woman made a sound of protest but Tauriel was already stalking down the halls in search of her now ex-husband.

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, she knew that already. Thranduil all but owned Greenmeadows, which was a privately funded organization. And it appeared that he had officially 'cut her off.' Or at least that was how he was swinging things.

Never mind that she had started working at the little hospital long before Legolas had transferred to their Obstetrics division. Never mind that he'd only started funding the place after she'd already established herself as one of their leading surgeons. No, Thranduil was out for blood, that much was clear.

Legolas was in his office as she stormed in. He looked up from a massive stack of paperwork and a shadow passed over his features when he saw her framed in the doorway.

"Did you know," she demanded, too furious to allow guilt to overwhelm her. Legolas looked bone tired, dark circles beneath his vibrant blue eyes.

He was still impeccably dressed and kempt, not a hair out of place on his golden head. It was one of their many differences; Tauriel had a habit of being a hot mess ninety percent of the time.

"Tauriel, if this is about the divorce then... yes," he said, sounding weary and agitated, "I know it was this morning. I saw no reason for me to be there-"

"This isn't about the damned divorce," she bit out, "It's about your father having me fired!"

Her voice echoed down the hall and she could hear the hushed whispers of the nurses at the central nurse's station like the excited hum of killer bees. Legolas visibly paled and rose from behind his desk to usher her inside and close his office door. Tauriel refused to sit, pacing angrily behind two worn chairs and shoving shaking hands under her arms.

"Surely they haven't fired you, and how could my father-"

"You know he could, Legolas. You know the sort of pressure he's capable of putting on this place. He's their biggest benefactor." Tauriel had no patience for pandering. They both knew what Thranduil was capable of when he felt pressed.

Her god-father-turned-step-father was punishing her for the divorce, never mind that his actions would have a direct and negative effect on his granddaughter. Or maybe that was the point. Her blood went cold as she considered the possibility that this was all meant as a way to take her daughter from her. Would Thranduil stoop so low?

"I'll speak to him," Legolas said, looking stricken. "We'll sort this out."

It was the word 'we' that brought her to her senses.

It wasn't important whether Legolas had known or not, not really. It wasn't even important if he'd had a hand in it –though she doubted it. What was important was that here she was, a bare two hours after officially being divorced, and she was, in essence, at his door begging for his help.

She realized in that moment that beneath the anger and indignation was a well of relief.

Working with and seeing Legolas nearly every day, even if just in passing, had weighed on her. As well as the knowledge that there were still those who thought she owed her success to her father-in-law, a worry she shared. She wanted to believe that she'd been awarded the position of Chief Surgeon based off her own merits, but there was always that niggling of self-doubt.

Tauriel took a shaky breath, the fight leaking out of her. "No… no, don't, maybe its better this way."

Legolas shook his head, a familiar look of hurt crossing his features. He was a very good looking man, the apple of every nurse's eye and constantly sought after by the female physicians. Age had only refined him, and Tauriel was well aware that almost everyone in the hospital thought she was a crazy bitch for divorcing him. But what she saw was a friend hurting because of her, not a lover or a soul mate she was desperate to console.

"Tauriel, don't be like this. After all your hard work and dedication," he pleaded and she saw that he wanted her close, that he wanted her nearby. Suddenly the hospital seemed more a prison than the refuge it had once been.

It strengthened her resolve.

"I'll sort this out, okay? Maybe-Well, maybe it's better if I find someplace else to work," she said and watched as Legolas deflated.

He was a tall man, several inches taller than she who was fairly tall for a woman, but he seemed much shorter in that moment. It killed her to know that she was the reason he felt so small, so broken. She was dangerously on the verge of tears. Marci was right, she should have taken the day off; it had proven to be an insane and emotional roller-coaster.

"Hey, I- God, sorry just doesn't seem like the right word. There's nothing I can say now I guess, other than that I'm sorry, so very sorry. For barging in here like this… a-and for everything else," she fumbled.

Legolas let out a shaky sigh and flashed her the sorriest excuse for a smile she'd ever seen. "I know I'm supposed to be the angry and jilted ex, but it doesn't have to be like that between us. I don't want it to be."

Tauriel nodded and jabbed angrily at the tears leaking from her eyes with her coat sleeve. "Yeah, I don't want that either. But I think we both could use some space."

"I still love you, you know," he said, making everything that much worse.

"I love you too," she told him, because it was true, even if they both knew it wasn't the right sort of love.


Tauriel packed her office into a few small boxes. It took about thirty minutes in all.

It was funny, she thought as she cleared out all her paperwork and tossed it carelessly into a box for someone else to sort out, how it could take years to build a life which could be utterly destroyed in only a few short moments.

No one bothered her. No one came by to offer their help. Legolas was very popular.

She swept the items on her desks unceremoniously into a box, fighting the urge to throw things out the window, but paused suddenly over a family photo. With a defeated groan she snatched it up and fell back into her desk chair, cradling the frame in her hands. The picture had been taken the year prior, on their family trip to Universal Studios. They were all smiling, their arms around each other, the picture perfect family. Jaimie stood front and center, brandishing a wand and scarf from Harry Potter Land.

Jaimie looked just like him. The same dark curls and eyes, the olive skin, the cheeky smirk. Her mouth and nose belonged to Tauriel, and her small feet, but the rest belonged to an Irishman she'd known for a single night, who could have been dead for all she knew. Nothing a google search wouldn't have solved, of course, but it felt like she would have been unearthing a ghost, one she thought was better to let lie. Until now.

Things were changing, and Marci's words echoes through her mind. She'd been putting things off for too long, for far, far too long.

Smoothing a hand over her face, she set the photo gently inside the box wondering where he was, the Irish pub singer. Kíli, her mind supplied, because she'd never forgotten his name or his face. She wondered if he ever thought of her and the child he hadn't wanted, if she was the skeleton in his closet. There was an old bitterness there, like an old friend who had long overstayed their welcome.

A bitterness at her own naive foolishness, at the insipid hope and expectation, and the long reaching consequences of letting her judgement slip too far off the map.


The apartment was small but well-furnished, located in one of the nicer parts of Boston. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a spacious living room, kitchen and dining room. It was much smaller than their two story Victorian, but it suited her just fine.

Tauriel wouldn't be able to afford the rent for longer than a few months, however, if she didn't find a decent job.

After picking up Jaimie from a friend's house, she'd immediately unpacked a bottle of wine from a box and was drinking directly out of the bottle like a pathetic drunkard in her kitchen. She could hear the radio pulsing from Jaimie's bedroom as her daughter unpacked her belongings. They hadn't spoken a word to one another in the car, which wasn't exactly uncommon these days.

While Jaimie had always been a Daddy's Girl, she and Tauriel had always gotten along fine. Their relationship had always been strong, if not quite so close, but that had changed over the last year. Tauriel had blamed teenage hormones at first, but now it felt like something more, something deeper.

She made spaghetti for dinner and called Jaimie when it was finished. The thirteen year old arrived dressed in faded sweat pants and one of her dad's old band tees, Something Corporate written across her chest in bold letters. Her hair was its normal curly mess, piled atop her head in a crooked bun. She'd definitely inherited Tauriel's disdain for primping, whose own red hair was collected in a similar manner.

"Hey," Tauriel called as her daughter grabbed a serving and attempted to head back into her bedroom, "Let's eat together tonight, alright?"

Jaimie rolled her eyes a little but settled dutifully at the small, box cluttered dining table. Tauriel put a few of them on the floor and sat across from her, wondering how it had become so hard to speak to someone who had literally come from her own womb.

Jaimie's nose was turned down toward her food, slurping up the noodles mechanically as her mother studied her. Better just to spit it out now, she thought.

"The divorce went through today. Oh, and I lost my job," she said, slowly twirling a few noodles onto her spoon. She didn't have much of an appetite.

Jaimie's fork paused a few inches from her mouth and she slowly set it back down. "Oh… that sucks," she said, eyes flicking up then down again as she processed the information.

"Was it because of the divorce? Them firing you I mean."

Tauriel flexed her jaw for a moment, smothering another wave of rising anger at the injustice of it all. "Yeah, probably, not that they can say that."

Jaimie bit her lip. "Was dad, you know," she hesitated.

Tauriel shook her head sternly. "No, no. It, well, it doesn't really matter who's fault it is. It's probably for the best. I'll find a new job, don't worry." She shoveled a forkful of noodles into her mouth, just to make herself shut up. The wine had clearly gone to her head.

"Like maybe in Ireland?" her daughter supplied.

Tauriel choked.

"Wh-wha-"

Jaimie fixed her with a steady stare that held an all too knowing look and the bottom fell out of Tauriel's stomach as a thousand possibilities rushed through her mind at once. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be possible-

"I found his letter last year, Mom," her daughter said, looking vaguely guilty but also clearly angry. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Marci was always saying that bad things came in threes. Clearly she was right. Tauriel felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, she had no idea what to say.

"I thought maybe you'd tell me after leaving dad, or maybe that that was why you were leaving him, because he found out or something," Jaimie was rushing on, her cheeks growing pink with agitation. "Or does dad even know?"

"Yes, he knows," Tauriel managed to breathe out, hardly aware she was speaking.

Hurt struck clear and visceral across Jaimie's face and Tauriel's heart ached like a wound. "So everyone knew but me."

"No, no baby," Tauriel gushed and rose to shaky feet, fumbling until she was kneeling desperately at her daughter's side.

Jaimie's was closed into herself, and she refused to look at her mother, shoulders hunched up around her ears. "Legolas is your father, he loves you-"

"But he's not my real dad, is he?" Jaimie gritted out, and Tauriel could see tears swimming in her eyes.

"In every way that counts."

Jaimie sniffed and rose to her feet, Tauriel tried to stop her, but she tugged out of her grip. "Just, leave me alone, Mom."

She left Tauriel alone, surrounded by boxes and the shattered pieces of her life.


Tauriel had finished a bottle and a half of wine when she tugged her cell phone out of her pocket.

She stared at it for a long while, cars rushing past below her as a chill brokered on the wind. With heavy fingers she typed his name into the search engine. His face popped up immediately and it was like a dagger in her lungs. He looked almost exactly the same. His hair was shorter, trimmed to keep the curls in check, and he wore a nice suit with his head ducked down to, apparently, avoid the cameras.

The first link read: 'Billionaire miner dead, leaves two young nephews in charge of international business."

The second link followed: 'Thorin Oakenshield's wild nephews to inherit entire fortune."

And the third: 'Can Ireland's infamous playboy's rise to the occasion?'

Whatever Tauriel had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

Maybe a Facebook page or a few music related articles. The last time she and Kíli had spoken, a few days before the pregnancy test had read positive, he'd told her he was from a long line of miners but that he'd always wanted to enter into the music industry. When he'd mentioned miners, she pictured men in jean overalls covered in coal, not rich business executives.

She clicked on an image of his face and stared at it for what might have been hours, trying to read something of the man he'd become in the lines and curves of his face.

Tauriel took another long, hard swallow and typed a different search into the task bar.


A/N: Poor Legolas, I feel awful for him too. Things get better for him, and everyone else... eventually, don't worry. Sometimes people just don't work out my friends, but that doesn't mean they don't care about each other.