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Chapter Three
Tauriel
Thranduil returned to Mirkwood and led his people as he had always done, but now his heart was changed. His soul had been wounded, leaving scars that grew visible when he was most agitated. He grew closed, cut off from his people, no longer wandering among them as a friend, but became a distant, untouchable king.
But in this dark life without Calien, there was one light to soothe Thranduil's pain: his son, Legolas. His little leaf was a young elfling, hardly ten when his mother had died, and he had no recollection of her when he was older.
Legolas grew only in happiness, forgetting he even had a mother, loving his father with all his heart. Thranduil spoiled his son, but Legolas grew to be strong, the jewel of his father's kingdom, but wise nonetheless.
Several thousand years passed. Legolas grew to be tall and lithe, an excellent fighter, favoring the bow as his mother had. He did not marry, to Thranduil's faint surprise, but instead devoted his time to the forest and his father.
At about this time, rogue bands of orcs began to trouble the outlying reaches of Thranduil's kingdom. He sent a section of the Guard, under Feren's lead, to deal with them. Feren returned with a slightly smaller force a few weeks later. He was wounded. The healers said he would heal quickly, but that he ought to take a rest from fighting for a little while.
Feren reported that the orcs had been flushed out of their hiding spots. Thranduil knew they would soon regroup and must be destroyed quickly, before any more death could happen. He resolved to lead the Guard himself while Feren recovered.
He brought Legolas along with him, as well as a good portion of the remaining forest Guard. Thranduil led the hunting party through the forest, walking quietly as only elves can.
They came upon the orcs as the foul beasts attacked a village in the western border of the forest. Easily they slayed them all, until they were each battle weary but victorious. Thranduil lost none of his fighters, and would have returned triumphant to his halls without further incident had not the village been burning.
The Guard had come just a few minutes too late for the village. Most of its inhabitants had been slain, and Thranduil's heart was once again full of grief. He desired above all to keep his people safe from the outside dangers, to protect them from harm...and once again he had failed.
"Search for survivors," he ordered the Guard and his son. "If there are any, we will take them back to my halls."
"Yes, sire," one of the Silvan elves said, saluting him. Legolas nodded and went along to aid them.
Thranduil strode through the ruin, looking at the dead bodies of the villagers. He began to pick each body up, humming a comforting song to himself, and dragged them over to where a few of the Guard were digging graves.
"Father," Legolas said quietly behind him as he worked. "We have found no survivors. We are helping to bury the dead. Should I call off the search?"
Thranduil paused and turned to face his son. "Have you searched thoroughly?"
"Yes, father," Legolas confirmed. He looked over the dead with pity. "I wish we had come in time to save them."
Thranduil nodded. "We must strengthen the outlying Guard, so that this does not happen again. Call off the search. Bury the dead, and then we must leave."
Legolas nodded, then turned to shout commands to the Guard. Thranduil left to collect another body to buried. He had just picked one up when he heard the soft cry of a child. He dropped his load and looked around for the source of the noise.
"Who is there?" he called softly. "Do not be afraid, child. I will not hurt you."
Out of the shadows crept a young Silvan elf, her hair an unusual shock of red. Her wide green eyes looked up at him in fear.
"Wh-who are you?" she asked quietly, her voice small. She hugged herself tightly, looking up at him and deliberately not at the massacre around her.
"I am King Thranduil," he told her gently, kneeling down until their eyes were at an equal height. "Who are you?"
"Tauriel," she answered, looking up at him with trust in her eyes. "My parents are dead."
"I know," he said, his voice gravelly. "We killed the orcs that slew them."
Tauriel looked down. "Oh," she said quietly. "Father told me to hide...so I did...but then there was screaming...I was scared...then I was angry. But I listened to Father."
"You did the right thing, Tauriel," Thranduil said gently. "Come with me, now."
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, taking a step back in fear.
Thranduil reached out to take the little elfling's hand. "We are going to the halls of the king. I will take you there, to live a new life."
Tauriel looked around. "I miss Mother and Father," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. "I wanted to kill the orcs that killed them."
"Maybe someday you can become part of the Guard who slew your parent's murderers," Thranduil told her. "And you can kill other orcs, so this does not happen to anyone else."
Her little face grew fiercely determined. "Yes," she said firmly. "I will do that. When I am older."
"Come with me, Tauriel," Thranduil said. "We must be going now."
When they got to where the rest of the Guard was cleaning up the massacre, Thranduil called Legolas aside.
"You found a survivor!" he exclaimed in surprise, glancing down at Tauriel.
"Yes," he agreed. "I am taking Tauriel back to the palace now."
"Now?" Legolas asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Thranduil said, picking her up and putting her on his steed, a majestic elk, in front of her. "She cannot linger here. Finish what you are doing and return as soon as you can."
"Yes, Father," Legolas said dutifully, casting one last curious glance at the little elf girl.
Thranduil and Tauriel set off for home, riding hard. Tauriel clutched the elk's neck fur tightly, her eyes wide. Thranduil kept one arm wrapped protectively around her, one arm guiding the elk through the forest.
They arrived in the palace late in the night, and Thranduil was greeted by an anxious and newly recovered Feren.
"Where are the others?" Feren asked. "And who is this child?"
"I'm Tauriel," the little elf introduced herself.
"I left them behind, to clean up the dead," Thranduil informed the Captain of the Guard, dismounting and taking Tauriel off with him. "Legolas will lead them back when they are done."
Feren nodded. He looked down at Tauriel and smiled. "How did his Majesty find you, Tauriel?"
"The orcs killed my parents," Tauriel said sadly. "But the king brought me back here to live now. He says I can be part of the Guard when I'm older!"
"If you want to," Feren said with a chuckle, taking her hand. He glanced up at Thranduil. "Would you like me to get her situated? I know a some healers who could take her in for the time being."
"Yes, thank you," Thranduil agreed.
Tauriel took Feren's hand and he led her away to her new life in the halls of the king. Thranduil led his elk to the stables of the palace and then left to rest until Legolas's return. He was tired.
