The lunch went surprisingly well, as did the rest of the negotiations during the day. Kíli was skilled in not answering Thranduil's questions directly, which was, after all, sort of the point of the negotiations. Finally, when the day ended, Kíli and Tauriel retired to their rooms.

"I hate this damn circlet," Kíli hissed, yanking it off his head and slamming it onto the chair. "Blasted uncomfortable thing."

"I think today went as well as could be expected," Tauriel stated, unbuttoning her surcoat. "You are skilled at answering questions indirectly."

"Finally, the time when my natural talent at being annoying comes in handy," Kíli quipped. Tauriel rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps. But overall, I think things are going well thus far."

"Should I mention something about wanting Legolas to join us?" Kíli asked as Tauriel began to undress. She frowned slightly, looking up.

"Hmm?"

"Legolas," Kíli repeated. "I'd like it if he joined us during the negotiations."

"But Thranduil hasn't invited him to do so," Tauriel countered. Kíli shrugged.

"Perhaps I could mention that I'd like for him to be there."

"Why?"

"Because I think he should be," Kíli replied, confused. Tauriel shook her head.

"No, what is the reasoning you'll tell Thranduil? If you simply tell him that you think he ought to be there, he may not agree, but if you have a specific reason for his presence, then perhaps he'll allow it."

"Legolas will have to be in contact with the dwarrows of Erebor quite often," Kíli replied, thinking wildly, "and it would be useful for him to know the parameters of our peace."

"And?" Tauriel asked. Kíli frowned.

"And he may be called upon to help end disputes while in Erebor, for which he'll need more knowledge of the specifics of our truce."

"And?"

"And he will be king after Thranduil, so he ought to be in negotiations, as the heir, as any reasonable leader would know," Kíli added irritably. Tauriel smirked.

"I wouldn't mention the last one," she suggested. Kíli sighed.

"Why doesn't his father trust him? Why is he so cold?"

"He's been that way as long as I can remember," Tauriel replied with a shrug. "But I think it may be because of the death of his wife."

"Legolas' mother?" Kíli asked. Tauriel nodded.

"She died before I was born, fighting orcs in Gundabad," she replied. "Legolas does not like to speak of it. Nor does Thranduil. They say he has never been the same since the death of his wife."

"That's terrible," Kíli murmured. "I'm so sorry for their loss."

"Legolas was younger than I when it happened," Tauriel added. "And he is around a thousand years my senior, so it was long ago that it occurred. He was but a child when she died."

"And now, Thranduil distances himself from even his own son because she is gone?" Kíli asked. He sighed. "The loss of a loved one is traumatic, but the way he acts is inexcusable. My mother lost my father before I was born, but she was never anything less than a loving mother to myself and Fíli."

"Your father died before your birth?" Tauriel asked, sounding curious. Kíli assumed she'd never thought it polite to ask before.

"Aye, scarcely two months before I was born," Kíli replied. "Fíli was five. He hardly remembers him. But our mother tells us stories sometimes. He had golden hair, like Fíli's. He used to braid his mustache, which Fíli took to doing as well once the hair was long enough. Mother says that Fíli is more like our father's side of the family and I'm more like hers."

"You and Thorin are similar in many ways," Tauriel replied. Kíli nodded.

"Yes, but Mother always compares me to Frerin, her other brother. He died in the battle of Azanulbizar." Kíli smiled softly. "Mother says he was almost as reckless as I. My runestone once belonged to him, years ago. My mother kept it for nearly a century after his death before giving it to me when we left to reclaim Erebor."

"You should not have lost so much of your family before you could even know them," Tauriel murmured. Kíli sighed.

"I'd rather lose them before I met them than lose them after. I never knew Frerin or my father, so I can't really miss them. But when I thought Uncle Thorin was going to die, after the Battle, it hurt more than the thought of their deaths ever could. I thought I would lose myself in the sheer agony of the thought."

"But he did not die," Tauriel murmured. Kíli smiled softly.

"But he did not," he replied. "What of your parents? I know they died when you were young, and I'm sorry for your loss, but how young were you? How well do you remember them?"

"My parents died when I had not yet even reached one hundred years old," Tauriel told him, her eyes suddenly seeming very far away. "I have few memories of them. Elves mature more slowly than dwarrows, so I was still a child at the time. They went out to fight orcs who were encroaching on the forest, and I stayed here with Legolas. He was helping me to shoot a bow, I remember. And Thranduil entered the room and told me that my parents had died." Kíli could imagine it, little Tauriel with Legolas, struggling with a bow, and Thranduil, as cold as ice, informing her of her parents' death. "He told me that I would be his ward and under his protection," Tauriel continued. "I didn't understand what it meant. Legolas explained it to me after Thranduil left, and I cried. He comforted me." Tauriel sighed. "Legolas was as family to me, but Thranduil never truly was. If I needed comfort, I could never go to him for it. In many ways, Legolas was both brother and father to me."

"I find that I like Thranduil less and less the longer we speak about him," Kíli remarked. Tauriel sighed.

"I do not think him to be bad or cruel, not in his heart. But when his wife died, I believe something within him died as well. It was after that happened that he became cold and closed off. I believe he was afraid."

"Afraid?" Kíli parroted disbelievingly. Tauriel nodded.

"The death of his wife hurt him deeply. I believe he was afraid of feeling that pain again. If he distances himself from everyone and does not allow himself to love so deeply, he will not hurt so deeply if they leave him, as his wife did."

"So he's willing to live like that?" Kíli asked in disbelief. "Out of touch with his own family? Is it not better to love and risk the loss than to be cold and dead inside, like Thranduil has become?"

"Apparently he doesn't think so," Tauriel replied, shrugging. "It saddens me to see it. Legolas has told me stories of how Thranduil used to be. Once, he was kind and caring. He used to play with Legolas. He taught him how to use his first bow. But when his wife died, it was almost as if all that love died along with her."

"I suppose I must thank Mahal my mother did not feel the same way after the death of my father," Kíli murmured. "It is truly an unforgivable thing to do to your children."

"Shall we speak of lighter things?" Tauriel asked. She sat on the bed, wearing nothing but a thin shift. Kíli began undressing, stripping to only his smallclothes. "Tomorrow, perhaps, we can braid each other's hair before going to see Thranduil. Of course, we must not make it too obvious, but if Thranduil wishes for us to wed, perhaps he would be gladdened to see a symbol of our affection."

"I love to braid your hair," Kíli murmured, reaching out and running his fingers through it. "Your hair is smoother than a river, brighter than the sun, and more beautiful than all the gems in the world."

"You flatter me," Tauriel argued, a slight blush on her cheekbones. Kíli shook his head.

"Nay, I speak but the truth," he replied. "How could anyone see you and see anything less than a goddess of beauty? I do not know that anyone could be more beautiful than you, even the undying gods."

"And who could be more handsome than you?" Tauriel countered. "Your eyes are warm and soft, your hair is thick and strong. Your smile could move even the hardest of stones."

"You flatter me," Kíli parroted. Tauriel rolled her eyes.

"And you love it," she replied. Kíli shrugged.

"Well, yes, but that's beside the point, isn't it?" Tauriel sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to Kíli's lips.

"I love you," she whispered. Kíli grinned up at her.

"And I you," he replied. "It's nice how these things work out, isn't it?"

"I remember when I thought my feelings to be unrequited," Tauriel mused. Kíli huffed out a laugh.

"As do I," he replied. "Vividly. I loved you since I first saw you, but for so long, I thought you didn't feel the same way about me." Kíli sighed. "I would have continued to love you anyway, and I would have continued to spend as much time with you as possible, but I'm very happy you feel the same way I do."

"As am I," Tauriel replied. "I didn't realize I loved you until I knew you were dying. When the orc told us that you'd been poisoned, I felt as if my heart would stop, and that was when I knew."

"I think we talked about it as soon as we could, though," Kíli replied slowly. "It was not a conversation we could have had before the Battle, and things were too busy in the preparations for the coronation. I think when we spoke of it, the night after the coronation, was the perfect time to do so."

"I'm glad we spoke of it," Tauriel murmured. "I planned to tell you of my feelings, but you spoke first. Your words were more elegant than mine."

"I seem to remember stumbling over my words quite a bit," Kíli laughed. Tauriel smiled.

"But you also called me more precious to you than any gems, and spoke in the most wonderful words about my beauty. How could I not love you after that?"

"What would you have said?" Kíli asked. Tauriel sighed.

"Even now, I'm not sure how I would have worded it. Something about your laugh, and how happy your smile makes me, and how I could not live in a world without you in it."

"Your words sound elegant enough to me," Kíli told her. Tauriel smiled.

"You're too kind," she murmured. She lay back on the bed. "We ought to sleep. I doubt Thranduil will let us sleep in tomorrow morning."

"You'll stay in here?" Kíli asked. Tauriel nodded.

"I will stay with you," she replied. Kíli lay down, curling into her arms.

"I'm glad of it," he murmured. He fell asleep quickly, but once he was asleep, he wished he wasn't.

"Kíli, watch out!" Fíli cried. The Battle of the Five Armies was raging around them, elves and Men and dwarves fighting orcs and goblins. Kíli ducked, barely avoiding a swing of a sword that would have taken off his head. "You're being reckless, little brother," Fíli told him, a grin on his face.

"I think you're being rather unfair," Kíli countered. "We're fighting a war, after all. Even those who are ridiculously practical can get themselves into trouble."

"Speaking of trouble," Fíli replied grimly, pointing. Thorin was in the middle of a group of orcs, fighting viciously. He was outnumbered, though, and Kíli didn't know that he could last much longer.

"Shall we?" he asked Fíli, gesturing grandly with his sword and twisting it into a stab at the last second, killing a goblin immediately. Fíli grinned.

"We shall," he replied. Immediately, they both plunged into the thick of the fighting, their swords glinting in the light as they drove over towards Thorin.

"Uncle!" Kíli cried, beaming as Thorin looked up at him. "Looks like you could use some aid."

"I suppose I should have expected you," Thorin stated, not breaking form for a moment. "Be careful."

"Of course!" Fíli replied, blocking a swing of a blade with one of his swords and killing his opponent with the other. Thorin smiled slightly.

Then a bloody blade tore through his chest, his eyes going wide and then dull as the blade was pulled back out and his body crumpled.

"Uncle!" Kíli screamed, rushing to Thorin's side. Azog was behind him, looking at the blade extending from his arm.

"So falls the line of Durin," he stated coldly, his sword about to descend on Kíli's neck.

"No!" Suddenly, Fíli was there, blocking the attack with his own body. The sword slashed through his back instead of Kíli's throat, blood spurting everywhere. Kíli screamed in horror, immediately trying to stop the bleeding with his hands, but he couldn't, there was too much blood. Fíli caught his eyes for half a second, his hand squeezing Kíli's, and then his eyes went dull like Thorin's and he was gone and Kíli couldn't stop screaming and the battle was still raging around him but he didn't care because Fíli and Thorin were dead and what did it matter if he died too? They were gone, and-

"Kíli! Kíli, love, it's merely a dream. Kíli, wake up, my darling." Kíli's eyes tore open, showing Tauriel's worried face over his. Blinking away afterimages of the fighting from his dream, he attempted to ground himself and remember where he was; he was in a bed, Tauriel was lying next to him, they were in their room in Mirkwood. The battle was a year and a half ago. Thorin and Fíli both survived. They were back in Erebor. Azog was dead. They were safe, he was safe, everything was alright.

"A dream of the battle?" Tauriel asked quietly when Kíli's breathing slowed to a less ragged rate. Kíli nodded.

"I haven't had one in so long," he replied hoarsely; while the dreams had come frequently in the months after the battle, they'd become less common over the past year. "I admit, I thought they were gone."

"What happened?" Tauriel asked quietly. "Do you wish to speak of it?"

"It was the same as the old ones," Kíli replied, sitting up. Phantom pain flared in his leg; he reached down to massage the old scar. "Thorin and Fíli were killed, by Azog this time. I didn't get to Thorin in time to save him, and Fíli took a blow that was meant for me and died in my arms."

"They are safe," Tauriel murmured, laying a gentle hand on Kíli's leg. "They are safe, as are we. Azog is dead."

"I know," Kíli whispered, leaning tentatively against Tauriel. He needed the warmth of her body to reassure him that he wasn't alone, that she was alive. "I know."


The story of Legolas' mother comes from The Battle of Five Armies. What Kíli says about his family - both his father and Frerin - is all of my own creation. Tauriel's backstory is based on the few facts that we know about her youth.