It was two weeks after Tauriel's illness upon which Legolas had stumbled, and though she did not always feel her best, exhaustion overcoming her at the slightest of exertions, Tauriel was managing to conduct her duties as Captain of the Guard nearly with full energy. But this morning she had a particularly hard time overcoming the weakness and the constant churning of her stomach, and was hurrying that she should not be in trouble.

"Tauriel, you are late," Legolas greeted, his light eyes regarding her with just a hint of amusement.

"I apologize, my lord. I had pressing matters to attend to this morning, but nothing over which you should be concerned." Her eyes smiled back at him, the code obvious.

"We were just discussing the amount of warriors we should send to the Lonely Mountain. A great force is amassing there, and that can either mean we should turn out in equal numbers, or that we should use caution, lest all of our best men be slain."

"We should not be fighting with those with whom we have no quarrel," Tauriel said quietly, the sudden image flooding her mind of Kili falling, pierced by an elven shaft.

"Your loyalty should not waver with your strength" Legolas said quietly. "We do what must be done."
"Of course," she replied, turning and looking across the room for a brief moment to recollect herself. What was she saying. Legolas knew of her kindness toward the youngest of the dwarf prisoners. But he need not know more. Just as she did not delight in spending her days slaying spiders and hordes of orc, she would apply herself with diligence to whatever the king assigned her, in the hopes that she could continue in her command without arousing suspicion for as long as possible.

The end of their meeting came quickly, a decision reached. Tauriel prepared to depart, having an overdue patrol to execute, but Legolas stopped her.

"Tauriel, may I speak to you?"

The morning came, too soon for either of them, realization washing over the pair with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Do you have any idea what we are going to do?" Tauriel found herself asking, her hand idly going to and fro over his rumpled head, the smell of his sweat and love-laden breath filling her nostrils as she inhaled deeply.

"Do?" His voice was childish with sleepiness, and he rolled over, burying his face in her side, giving a small groan. "Don't make me think critically. Not now. I'm still so happy."

Smiling, Tauriel resisted the urge to press the matter, and instead gave him a slight poke in the ribs. He recoiled, his face tight with suppressed laughter.

"Hey!"

"I wanted to show you that I am not always boring."
"I didn't think you were boring..." he mused, playing with the end of one of her long red curls. "But you probably don't want me to tell you what I
did think. It'd embarrass you."

"Probably," Tauriel laughed, sobering quickly, and speaking his name. "Kili?"

"Hm?"

He rolled over, his broad back to her, and scooting down in the bed so that their heads were level with each other, though her legs stretched out below them long past his, Tauriel traced the solid indentations on his back through his thin tunic.

"How long do dwarven women carry children?"
"Do I look like a dwarven woman? How would I know?"

"Fili is older than you are?"

"Mhm."

"So you have no memories that..."

"Why are you asking?" His voice wafted up to her ears.

"I know nothing about dwarves. Do you know your father?" She diverted a bit so that he would not think anything was amiss. But still, surely he must know...

"He died when Fili was tiny – just ten, and I was no more than a bun in the oven."

She furrowed her brow at this even as she smiled.

All others having vacated the chamber, Tauriel said without turning, "It is nothing, it is getting better."

"No, it is not that. Though my concern is well-founded, I have not told my father."

She whirled, her eyes bright. "No! Do not tell him."
"I have not."
"I thank you." She bowed her head.

Legolas gestured for her to follow him and strode across the wide room, standing in an arched alcove that formed one of the few windows in the Woodland King's dark halls. Tauriel followed him, her tunic swishing against her legs, and stopping just within the window, face to face with the prince. He looked at her for a long moment, and at last she looked away.

"Please, don't..." she murmured, but he shook his head.

"No, no –" He broke off. "I know you have feelings for the dwarf. I could remind you that he is gone, that he is likely not coming back –" He stopped short at a fierce look from Tauriel, and rerouted his sentence. "I know we have been friends since childhood, and I am learning to see that that is all we will ever be. I am sorry, but it is growing easier."
She nodded. "Good. I hoped that this wasn't –"

He shook his head. "I would not put you in such a position. But I want to help."

Her gaze flashed to his. "With what?"

In a fluid motion, Legolas stepped away from her and into the shadows of the hall, leaving Tauriel's form silhouetted in the window, her body in profile though her head turned to follow his movements. The prince's keen eyes quickly roved her form – the cuirass, fitted through the bodice, undone at the top, her breast rising and falling with her rapid breaths, the swell of her abdomen beneath it's bottom edge, softened under the loose folds of her tunic... Tauriel's shoulders seemed to sag under his scrutiny.

"Don't tell me it's that obvious..." she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

Long strides brought him near to her again, and he looked into her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would I?" She looked away. "I'm not going to adopt his ways, and talk to anyone about everything..."

"I knew you had feelings for each other, but to –" Legolas broke off. "This is why you have been ill. But I – you were much more unwell than I have ever seen a woman..."

"Please." Her voice was small. "I don't know what it means. To carry the child of a dwarf... I am surprised things haven't been worse. I don't even know if it is possible."
"Clearly, it is."

"Is it really that apparent?" she asked, turning her face up to his. "I had hoped it would go unnoticed for some while yet." She dropped her voice. "It seems to be progressing so quickly, though. I read that dwarven women carry a child for nearly a year. I – " She broke off, her face pale. "I will continue in my duties as long as I can. You know me quite well, and you were looking for a reason for my illness."
"I was not," he said gently. "I simply noticed that you... that your..." He trailed off and shook his head as if to clear it. "I thought I must have been imagining. But it has been growing more noticeable."

Tauriel shut her eyes briefly. "Not everyone has as keen of eyes as you do."

"Not everyone will have as much grace as I do."