Author's Note: Yes, I know I am messing around a little with the order the scenes as they were presented in the movie, don't kill me. I have my reasons, and, I hope you forgive me…
Chapter 2
Tauriel glanced downstairs, and heard the men talking. She decided to take a small detour past the storeroom to listen in.
"You should have had these barrels sent down the river long ago. The bargeman will be waiting for them." One of the elves said.
"We need more drink!" She heard another say. "Their thirst is great upstairs tonight. Even the dwarves in the dungeon can hear the festivities." Taurielsmiled to herself. That was true…
"Think what you want of our ill-tempered king. At least he has excellent taste in wine. …"
If they only knew she was listening. She knit her brows and left, heading back up to the top of the caverns, towards the king's throne room. She would not tell Thranduil what she heard. She sighed to herself.
These men did respect their king, but many did not like him. They just saw the cold, harsh, stern ruler that led with an iron fist. If only these men knew him when he was just a little younger, like she did, before he became as isolationist as he was now. It was then he earned her undying respect and fealty. Despite what they thought, he did have a heart…
Tauriel remembered meeting him clearly. She barely recollected her life before then; and like most things, it was probably better that way. Tauriel paused at the entrance to the throne room, leaning against the living wall.
She remembered the day, vaguely, as being a nice one. Her parents had taken their young, energetic elfling out for a long stroll, wandering the edges of the forest. She skipped away, crawling under some bushes to grab some sweet looking berries that were hanging low. She gathered up a few and plunked herself down, eating them, smiling to herself.
"Tauriel? Tauriel! She heard her mother say, with urgency. Tauriel peeked out from the bush and looked into her mother's frightened eyes.
"Moma?" she said, remembering becoming instantly scared.
"Stay there child! Hide yourself! Whatever happens, be silent!" her mother said, quickly, in a whisper.
Tauriel saw the sword in her mother's hand and heard her father call out for her. Tauriel obeyed and crawled back under the bush, shaking, terrified. It all happened so fast… she heard clashes of metal, and heard the grunts and squeals of monsters. And then she heard the screams of her mother…then her father… then the forbidding evil cackle of something wretched and sinister.
She froze and could barely breathe, in shock. She strained to look through the thick branches before her as the grey-black beasts walked past her, not seeing her. Tauriel's heart broke within her. She hugged her knees tightly and the silent tears started to stream down her face. She could not move, paralyzed, terrified, alone in her little hidden refuge below the bushes…
She did not know how much later it was when she heard voices. Elven voices. The woods were shadowy and dark.
"Here! I found another one…oh my gods…" she vaguely heard one of them say. "He is coming this way…we must show him what they have done…"
"What else have you found…Oh no…" she heard. It was the voice she now knew as King Thranduil. She remembered hearing the pain in those few words he spoke. Then she heard an exasperated cry and a metallic scrape she now knew too well…the unsheathing of a sword. She crouched down and crawled towards the opening.
"Where are those beasts! I will tear them limb from limb for what they have done…" she heard him say, his voice cracking and full of emotion. Through the thick branches, she saw him striding her way, wildly enflamed. She blinked, wide eyed as she saw the tall, stunning elf turning around, searching. He looked around him intently, brandishing a long, silvery shimmering sword, as handsome and powerful as the elf who held it.
She remembered, as that child in the bush, she was in awe, but not scared, of the splendid warrior she saw before her. He was in a rich brown and gold long vestment, one that flowed magnificently as he moved. A thin, low band of sparkling diamonds went to a point on his forehead, and curved over the silver-blonde hair that wafted around his shoulders. As he turned, his angry, steel grey eyes, so imposing below strong, dark eyebrows glared all around. Soldiers appeared beside and behind him.
"It would be a good day and not soon enough when the last putrid bit of blood of those demons is spilt." He growled. "How dare they trample my woods…"
"I am afraid the orks are long gone, my lord." One of the Elf soldiers said. "The elven couple are long dead." Thranduil stood up, the tight hold on his sword making his knuckles turn white. He was breathing heavily with anger.
"There is still something lurking about. I can sense it…" he said, looking from tree to tree with furrowed brows. The king's sensitive ears heard little Tauriel as she moved. His head whipped around and his eyes focused where she was. There was a flash of anger as he rushed towards the bush, then confusion floated over his eyes.
Tauriel did not even know she had let out a pitiful little whimper.
"My gods…"Thranduil said, stopping short. She saw him sheath his weapon and hand it to one of the guards. Then he slowly approached the bush she was in. She saw him blink rapidly, emotions fluttering over his face… then she saw his eyes become soft, and his pale lips formed a thin line.
"My lord?" said one of the guards.
"Shush!" Thranduil said, a warning command to the guard. It made her jump and the bush above her quiver.
"Hush, youngling. There is no need to hide anymore. Come on out. It is safe. I won't hurt you…" he said, his voice low and gentle. "Come…" he pleaded softly. A trembling little Tauriel slowly crawled out of the bush, much to the amazement of the guards surrounding them. She heard gasps all around her. The poor little elfling, she heard them say.
Despite all of that distraction, she was captivated by the powerful face and the pale grey eyes of the fantastic man in front her, who was now kneeling down. "Come on…" he said, his eyes softening as she walked from the tight vegetation to his waiting hand. She reached out and held onto the long, strong fingers. Approaching him slowly, she sniffled and wiped her eyes. He touched her hair gently, pulled out some leaves, and smoothed it. She was mesmerized by the beautiful, striking, light grey orbs…yet she saw great gentleness in those eyes.
"Oh, little one." He murmered, his hands brushing off her clothing gently. " Are you hurt?" he asked, sweetly, sadly. She shook her head no. "Are you scared?" She nodded. To the shock of the soldiers around him, Thranduil pulled the she-elfling towards him and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up into his arms, resting her head on his shoulders. She remembered instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his body as he embraced her young form. He held her with the familiar warmth, strength and tenderness of a father, the father he already was to Legolas, who was then nearly fully grown and too big to hold like that anymore.
"It's alright, little one. You are safe now." His low voice echoed through her. He kissed her gently on her forehead. It was then that her little body broke down and she started to weep, sobbing uncontrollably against the splendid vestments of this man, the man she later found out was King Thranduil.
He refused to let her go, and much to the dismay of his guards, walked all the way back to the castle with her in his arms, talking with her gently, and promising solemnly that she would be safe, never want for anything, and that her he would take care of her forever…Elflings were a precious, precious treasure.
Tauriel today recalled the gentleness in that voice with a pang in her heart, because she remembered it so well, but rarely heard it these days. Back in the present, Tauriel put her hand to her lips, remembering with sadness those early, happy days, when the king used to make her feel special, when she grew up with Legolas beside her, always a little playfully jealous of the attention she was receiving. But that was not what it was like these days…
"I know you are there. Why do you linger in the shadows?" She heard the low voice of the King address her. Tauriel ran down the stairs and entered his presence. She glanced at him, with that little gasp she always did. She never could control it. Thranduil was always breathtaking to her, even after all these years.
"I was coming to report to you." she said, confidently.
"I thought I ordered that nest destroyed not two moons past…" He said, his eyes hard and accusing.
"We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord, but more spiders keep coming up from the south. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldor. If we could kill them, at their source…" Tauriel retorted, a little irritated.
"That fortress lies beyond our borders. Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures, that is your task." Thranduil said, cutting her off. She started to pace back and forth, frustrated.
"And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?"
This was a constant conflict between the king and the captain of his guard. He constantly shunned outside involvement, and pulled within, she looked out, beyond their borders for the solutions she felt they would need.
"Other lands are not my concern…" he said, breathy and insistently. Thranduil turned around slowly. "The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here, in this kingdom, we will endure." Thranduil looked towards the stairs…as if he had heard something. Tauriel sighed. That was all she would bother to say about the matter, lest she anger him. She turned to leave.
"Legolas said you fought well today." Thranduil said suddenly. His tone had changed. Tauriel lifted her head. It was not her commanding king speaking anymore. She looked back at him, trying to decipher his expression; it was quizzical, maybe a touch patronizing. "He has grown rather fond of you." Tauriel blinked in amazement.
"I assure you my lord…Legolas thinks no more of me than a captain of the guard." She insisted, even though, within, she was a bit elated; and knew better. Yet she was still so confused. This subject…discussing it with his father…this was awkward, in the least…
"Perhaps he did once. Now, I'm not so sure…" he said, in an accusatory tone, walking behind her, out of view. She breathed in hard.
"I…do not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Sylvan elf."
"No. You are right. I would not." Tauriel let her head fall. His subtle, degrading dismissal stung. "Still… he cares about you." Tauriel held her breath. "Do not give him hope where there is none." Thranduil said, his back to her. Tauriel looked up, her mind reeling. Now she understood why the king wanted to speak to her about this. She started to leave, her heart aching.
"Tauriel." He said, again, his voice smooth. Tauriel stopped short.
"Yes, my lord." She said, her voice bitter, shaking. She turned around slowly, her feelings still tender.
"Please realize, little one, I do think highly of you." his low voice gentle.
Thranduil called her 'little one' when she was a child. Now, however sweet it sounded, it cut into her. Tauriel kept her eyes averted from his glance. She could feel him looking at her.
"Do not take my questioning as a lack of trust. You have indeed become one of our best." He said, walking up to her slowly. "I knew you would be, from the time I found you. You have made me proud." He said. She kept her eyes down, unable to meet his. She did not know quite how to take his complements, so soon delivered after his other orders. That she should not let Legolas fall for her because she was not worthy.
"Thank you, my lord." She said, almost in a whisper. Her eyes rose to meet his. He was close to her now. His eyes had softened; to something like the time in the woods. Maybe he had realized just how much his words had hurt.
"May I ask a question?" Tauriel inquired. Thranduil's head tilted to the side, and he moved away with that flowing, catlike mannerism.
"Of course." He replied, although his tone was cautionary.
"What will become of the dwarves we captured today?" She asked, feeling this was the most appropriate time to ask, when he was a little more open to her. Under the magnificent wooden carved crown, Thranduil's dark eyebrow raised, and he observed her again with those piercing grey eyes, softened with curiosity.
"Their fate unfortunately lies in the hands of their leader." He said, turning around, his exquisiteochre vestment flowing around as he moved. His grand head lowered. His hand moved over to grasp a crystal glass with burgundy wine. "Thorin is of the house of Durin, the next rightful heir in a line of Dwarf Kings who ruled Erebor in its time of greatness. Yet I feel he too will fall prey to the same weaknesses that caused their downfall." Thranduil said, with a faraway look.
"I thought they were overcome by the Dragon Smaug...as was Dale…and by orks" Tauriel said, an automatic snarl forming on her lips at the mention of orks. She hated orks, reasonably so. She stiffened when Thranduil looked at her harshly while taking a sip from his glass.
"They suffer from stubbornness, pride, and greed." He said sharply. "It was his grandfather who cheated and denied us what was rightfully ours. If you ask them, it is we who wronged them. But it is Thorin who now refuses to forge a new agreement…" he snapped. "They will never change." He sighed.
"They are not all like that." She said softly, the memory of her conversation with the young dwarf fresh in her mind. He was of the line of Durin... Thranduil turned around swiftly.
"Do not let them fool you. When surrounded by treasure, they are strongly affected; they hoard gold, and isolate themselves away from all other Peoples, thinking their riches will save them from everything. They suffer greatly from an illness of the mind in that regard...They are all the same." He said, waving his hand. Tauriel looked down, and shook her head slowly; she could not help but to see the parallels…
"Maybe dwarves feel thusly, that all elves are the same. But they are wrong about that. Not all elves are equal. Are they, my lord?" She said sternly. A second later, Tauriel looked up, into her King's piercing eyes. He glared at her. For a second, she was afraid his gaze slice would slice her in two.
"I am sorry, my lord." She said. She looked down, practically shrinking beneath his gaze.
"For what are you sorry?" He spat.
"I misspoke, my lord." Tauriel said, softly, looking at him with trepidation.
Thranduil seethed for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and shook his head. He sighed, relaxed visibly, brought his shoulders down. He turned back to face her, his expression one of reticence. Tauriel was amazed by the transformation.
"Do not be sorry for speaking your mind in my presence, Tauriel." He said. "I may not always like what you may say," He said, his eyes glued on hers, "but it is still good for me to hear it. Good day, Tauriel." He said, dismissively, walking away.
"Yes, my lord." Tauriel breathed a sigh of relief, quickly taking her leave.
Thranduil looked out over his beloved kingdom with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes and shook his head, the distinct, old, yet unfortunately familiar feeling of dread awakening within him.
Legolas stood among some of the finest fighters in the hall, all jubilant because of the festival. He looked at each one, now with a small smile on his face. Even on such occasions, he knew he could not let his guard down completely. He was their field leader. He had to act in a way suitable to his stature; at all times. Like his father, Legolas had developed a reputation for being serious and no-nonsense, yet fair and capable in command. He had fought many a year to become the warrior he was; he did not will the fact that he was the Prince give him any leeway. He wanted to earn his position, from the very first day. He had become the best fighter in their land, deadly and strong, and respected by those beneath him for his skill.
Even though they had prisoners now, which was entirely unexpected, he still thought it was safe enough to leave them largely unguarded. He did feel his blood boil at the sight of his people's enemies on his land, the Dwarfs. For him it was a learned vengeance, nothing personal. Thorin and some of the older dwarves seemed to have the hatred of elves deep in their hearts; for them it was personal. He could see it in their eyes; hear it in the words Thorin and his father exchanged earlier. Deep, dark wounds were carved into their hearts.
Legolas did not really quite understand the rivalry. These dwarves were on a mission through their woods, not looking for a fight. They were, relatively speaking, not as difficult to deal with as the spider monsters and orks that were blighting their woods, but a problem nonetheless. His brows knit as he remembered what Tauriel had said in the forest, that the spiders, the evil was becoming more bold. He did feel it too, a foreboding, that something was not quite right in their land, and possibly, all of Middle Earth. But his father, King Thranduil did not feel the need to become connected with the rest of the land; he was content to remain hidden away in their woodland sanctuary. Legolas sighed; he respected his father, but maybe not all his decisions.
Ah, there she was; the best of his fighters. Tauriel. He was relieved she finally took leave of those smelly dwarves. That little young one, the one with no beard, irked him in particular. Tauriel walked up quietly into the hall where the revelers were already becoming quite tipsy. She strolled by, smiling at a few friendly faces. Legolas looked at her for a few minutes; her eyes soft, and delicate features smiling at all around her; she was wearing a long, dark green tunic that allowed some her feminine attributes to show, yet allowed her the movement necessary for fighting. Her long red hair framed a stoic face, one that, when a smile graced it, could melt his coldness. It was not often that he looked at his Captain this way.
Legolas had witnessed her rise all the way; taught her swordsmanship and her skill with the bow. He laughed within, remembering how, during training, he would have to physically extract a young, overactive Tauriel off of the other trainees during hand to hand battle. Within that slender body was strength and deadly grace and a fierceness that could not be taught; an aggression that rivaled a thousand orks. He had to teach her how to hone that aggression, turn it into a tool, focus it into a strength. Recently, she had been catching his eye for other reasons, he was finding her more and more…attractive. She was a warrior elf; not one fit for paring, his father once told him. His father was one for formalities; he…not so much. Legolas, deep within himself, believed he may have to disagree with his father on this, too. He had no intention on being married off for statesmanship sake at one point. Legolas walked slowly towards her; his emotions had changed, he was less bothered than he had been in the dungeon.
"Good to see you up here so soon, Captain." He said, eyeing her. She smiled and nodded her head towards him, the only show of reverence he would tolerate from her.
"My Prince." She said softly, walking by his side slowly. They fell into an easy cadence; one that came from spending much time together. They often fought side by side, working off of each others' moves so they knew each other's ways well.
"You did well today, Tauriel." He said, turning towards her, his face beaming with pride.
"Thank you." She said, flashing him a bemused smile. She looked into his clear blue eyes, the strong, devastatingly handsome high elf features. He smiled back, leading her before him. She sighed to herself, remembering the discussion with his father… Do not let him have hope where there is none.
"So…" he said, strolling with her through the hall. "What were you talking about with that ugly little dwarf?"
"You mean Kili. He was asking about the party up here." She said, looking at him with innocence in her eyes, ignoring his assessment. Legolas did not need to know the full extent of their conversation. "So I was teaching him a bit about Elda festivals of light. And he was talking on his journeys…" she continued. Legolas let out a choked laugh. Tauriel stared at him, puzzled.
"Oh Tauriel…I don't know how you could stand it…." he said, trying not to laugh, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "I bet you didn't even realize…"
"What didn't I realize?" She asked, stopping short.
"The little imp was…well…he seems to have taken a liking to you." Legolas said, his smile fading. "The way that he was talking with you… How…strange it must have felt." Tauriel looked into his eyes, trying to understand why this amused him so much…
"And what of it?" she said, looking at him pointedly, walking right by him. His expression became serious. He caught up to her.
"He is our prisoner. And a dwarf. He travels with Thorin, our enemy." He said, growing incredulous.
"He does not seem willing to hate blindly. And he is too young to remember old quarrels." She said, crossing her arms. "The dwarf spoke to me with kindness and treated me like a person. Nothing more, nothing less." She said.
"Do not let him get any ideas, Tauriel." Legolas said. "He is probably just trying to get you to set him free." Tauriel turned around and looked at him harshly.
"I cannot be manipulated that easily, Legolas." She said, sharply.
"I know…" Legolas said. "I am just…I would not like your good nature to be abused." He said, trying his best not to inflame her more. Her shoulders relaxed.
"Thank you, but I am capable of taking care of myself in that regard…" she said, with a slight smirk. "Besides, I don't think he had any such intensions." She said, strolling away.
"I must disagree." Legolas said to himself, under his breath.
Kili looked towards the door of the cell, his prison wrapping itself around him once more as Tauriel took her leave. He groaned to himself in frustration.
Well that encounter was…interesting indeed. Ahh, Tauriel. In just a few minutes, she has successfully turned my world upside down. I can't go losing my heart to every beautiful elf that graces me with a glance. She was just being kind; she brought herself down here to check on her prisoners, and she just happened to talk to you. How could you believe there could be anything beyond that?
Wow. But why did she stop to speak to me? And stay? I don't know. But yes, there is something between Tauriel and the one called Legolas the prince… But what? And should I really care?
Kili leaned back and sighed. Now he knew he would never get the warrior-elf out of his mind. He held onto the little stone she had given back to him and held it between his fingers.
Starlight...cold and distant…except when it is warm and near; but yet still infinitely unobtainable.
Hushed, urgent whispering caught his ears and he rushed to the gate. He looked towards the other wall from him and saw Bilbo fumbling with keys at Thorin's cell…Kili smiled excitedly; never was he so happy that they had a burglar in their midst. They all exited out and silently gathered on the stairs…
"Not that way, down here, follow me!" Bilbo said. They walked down, down, down into a room, they all were quiet as they all looked at two elves, drunk and snoring…
"I don't believe it! We are in the cellars!" Kili said, exasperated.
"You are supposed to be leading us out, not farther in!" Bofur growled.
"Shush! I know what I am doing!" Bilbo said, leading them into the barrel room.
"Everyone, now, climb into the barrels, quickly!"
"What? Are you mad? They are going to find us!" Dwalin said…
"No they wont, I promise you!" Bilbo insisted."Please, please, you must trust me!"
They all grumbled. Exasparated, Bilbo turned to Thorin. Everyone looked to Thorin…
"Do as he says." Thorin ordered. Barreled dwarves it was…One by one they worked themselves into the barrels.
As the dwarves grumbled and moaned about their predicament, Kili looked wistfully upwards, torn a bit inside. He could not help but wonder if he would ever see her again…Tauriel.
"Well, what do we do now?" Bofur asked…everone poked out their head. Bilbo looked at them seriously.
"Hold your breath…". Bilbo shushed them and pulled a lever.
The floor dropped out beneath them, and Kili squeezed his eyes shut, tightly as they rolled, and rolled and rolled…It was a loud and noisy ride, down the chute and out to the river. Kili thought his world would never stop turning, long after the barrels were dumped from the chute into the raging whitewater. Kili stuck his head out and stared at the churning water, happy there was wood between him and the razor sharp rocks. They all grabbed each other and waited impatiently for Bilbo…
Bilbo finally dropped from the chute, flat on his back. He bobbed up, disoriented. He was grabbed at by several strong arms…
"Well done, Master Baggins " said Thorin.
They saw daylight, finally. As they ambled along, Kili, one of youngest of the dwarves on the expedition actually found some fun in the perilous river jouney. He and his brother glanced off and jostled towards each other, forever trying to make light of each situation.
With the river gates open ahead, Kili allowed himself a second to become hopeful. Then heard elves shout out from the castle, signaling to the gate keepers downstream. He saw the gates over the river starting to close.
Groaning, he looked to his right and left and saw the hulking, brutish creatures running along the riverbanks, crawling like large, hideous insects along the shoreline, and then he heard the dreadfully familiar low growls…Orks! He looked at them incredulously.
Sitting in a cell in the Mirkwood elf castle, waiting for a red-haired she elf warrior to come and talk to him again was sounding like an extremely good idea at this point…
But Kili and his kinsmen were caught between the raging waters and the Orks with no weapons in hand, with warrior wood elves hot on their trail; what a fine, fine mess.
Kili felt his heart sink like a stone beneath the raging waters…
