"Are you serious?" Tauriel's piercing eyes and her voice as sharp as a Gondolin-forged blade made her comrade shrink. For a Silvan Etheldir was a giant but the concentrated anger of the little elleth-shaped fire-drake in front of him intimidated him.
"I-I'm sorry, I completely forgot about my other appointment when I volunteered for the king's escort," he stuttered while his face slowly turned crimson. "I know it's last-minute, but is there any chance you could help me out?" His guilty look almost made Tauriel laugh but she maintained her air of annoyance for a more convincing effect.
"I just returned from the border!" she groaned. "We crept through the coppice in this dreadful heat for two days before we finally got our hands on that Troll!"
"Please, Tauriel," he insisted, "the captain is going to slaughter me…"
Tauriel arched an eyebrow. In fact, she had already decided to do him the favour but torturing her comrade just a little bit longer than necessary felt too good to miss out. Finally she let out a deep breath and hissed, "Fine, I'll take your place!"
His face lightened up with relief. "Thank you so much, I can't tell you how…"
"Yes, I know," she interrupted him, grinning and pointing her finger at him. "You owe me!" With that she turned around and made her way back to the armoury to get her bow and quiver.
The mission she had so unexpectedly volunteered for was to accompany the king on a visit to one of the settlements near the northern border. She did not know what business he had there but it was not necessary for her to know the details.
Half an hour later Tauriel mounted her horse – more precisely it was just one of the many horses in the stables that belonged to the Woodland Guard. Most soldiers, apart from the captain and the four lieutenants, did not have their personal mounts. Tauriel was still not too accustomed to horseback riding because she had only started doing it on a regular basis when she had joined the Special Operations Unit, but she felt quite safe and comfortable on the dapple-grey's broad back.
Her fellow guard was ready to start, and so was Lord Rosdir, the king's scribe, who had brought an impressive arsenal of paper, parchment rolls and quills. The only one they were waiting for was the monarch himself. His horse was already saddled, held by a stable boy and pawing impatiently. 'Thank Eru it's not the elk,' Tauriel thought. She found the king's rather eccentric choice of mount both impractical and ridiculous, but Thranduil's extravagancies were not hers to judge.
Finally she saw the king emerge from the entrance of the royal quarters, buttoning his coat and gesturing while he was speaking to Legolas who came out behind him. 'Please don't let him come with us,' Tauriel sent a silent prayer to the Valar. She threw a look at Legolas who was listening carefully to his father's instructions, then nodded, bid him goodbye with a slight bow and went back inside. The king walked over to the waiting group, mounted his horse and gave the signal to start.
Urging her horse into an easy trot at the end of the small company, Tauriel sighed with relief. Riding all the way to the border and back with Legolas – in the presence of his father – would have been about as pleasant as running the gauntlet.
Since she had tricked Sidhril into telling her the truth about their failed rendezvous, Tauriel's thoughts about her best and oldest friend were in unprecedented uproar. At first she had tried not to take Sidhril's account too seriously – after all five years had passed since the incident with the ancient swords – but gradually it had dawned on her that Legolas feeling more for her than friendship was indeed a plausible explanation for lots of things that had happened between them.
Truth be told, it scared her. It scared her more than any spider or Goblin or Warg she had faced in her entire life. Legolas had been her friend and confidant for almost as long as she could remember. Seeing their friendship change felt like losing a safe haven.
Tauriel had not talked to Legolas about the subject because she did not want to worsen the situation. He obviously thought the same, as he had never made any attempt to actually tell her how he felt, knowing that it would most likely not be well-received. It was probably for the best, Tauriel reasoned, because a rejection would do more harm than the eventual realisation that there were better options for him.
At that, Tauriel frowned. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her. It was the same she had felt when Sidhril had told her about Legolas inviting her to see the old weapons. And when that excruciatingly pretty musician had smiled at him all evening during the last winter solstice feast. And whenever the king made one of his obvious attempts to interest his son in an eligible young lady. Tauriel tried to push the feeling away, like the last time it had crept into her mind like an unwelcome intruder. In fact, it was this stinging little sensation that scared her most of all.
She had never been in love, nor did she think it was a good idea. Her relationship with Fiondir, the only time she had ever come anywhere near romance, had begun for curiosity, continued for amusement and ended so undramatically that she was absolutely sure about not having been in love with him.
Legolas, on the other hand, was serious about these things, or at least that was what she thought. He certainly had enough possibilities for amorous encounters but he did not seem too interested in them. Tauriel even thought him capable of believing in the notion of "the one true love" – something that belonged to the realm of poetry and ancient tales, as far as she was concerned.
Even if she would fall in love one day, she knew herself well enough to suspect that she might get tired of it sooner or later and eventually leave the battlefield after cruelly massacring an innocent heart. That heart could not, under any circumstances, be Legolas'.
Besides, what did he want with her anyway? He was a prince, whereas she was a soldier with none of the qualities required of a lady. So she tried to convince herself that at some point he would certainly abandon his inclination to her.
The dapple-grey panted and shook his mane, almost as if he had heard her contemplations and disapproved. The sudden movement woke Tauriel from her thoughts. "Be quiet! What do you know?" she whispered and petted his neck.
-x-x-x-x-
The visit to the border settlement had been short and efficient. The king had his routine because he made this sort of journeys on a regular basis. The number of villages outside the immediate radius of the halls was steadily decreasing due to the growing threat of spiders and other foul creatures, but there were still a lot of them, distributed all over the realm, especially in the northern parts. Thranduil was not too fond of the idea of his people living so far away from the protective walls of the caves but he did not want to force them to leave their homes. So he had taken to visiting every settlement himself at least once a year – which was quite a busy schedule, given their number – apart from sending his officials and soldiers there whenever the villagers had to be informed about important news or needed any kind of help.
This time he had found nothing to worry about, except the apparent nervousness of the farmers and hunters at the presence of the noble guest, and so the visit was a short one. Still, the scribe had managed to fill several of his pages.
As the small company was riding in single file along the narrow forest path again, Tauriel, still at the rear, was the first to notice the black butterflies fluttering above them. The Silvans said that these creatures were heralds of death. Tauriel did not believe in superstition but she knew that there was some truth to the macabre saying. Those butterflies were not like their harmless, colourful brothers that subsisted on the nectar of flowers – no, those foul creatures from Dol Guldur fed on nothing but blood. Wherever they were, blood was not far.
Some minutes later Tauriel heard rustling in the bushes behind their company. It seemed to follow them, so she advised her fellow soldier to be vigilant.
The attack came unexpectedly nevertheless. Five Orcs broke through the bushes with infernal roaring and drawn blades. The first thing that happened was that the scribe's horse reared up and fled along the path, the poor rider on its back being unable to appease it and clinging desperately to the saddle. In the meantime, more Orcs emerged from the shadows and three of them decided to go after Lord Rosdir, whose only weapons were his quills and who was about as skilled at fighting as he was at horse riding. Tauriel's comrade exchanged a look with the king, then he kicked his horse into a gallop and followed the unlucky fellow.
Tauriel was too busy slicing and stabbing about to realise that she had ended up alone with the king, being solely responsible for his protection. Luckily he seemed very capable of defending himself, as she noticed from the corner of her eyes. He was wielding his sword with extraordinary precision, every movement was as flawless as it was effective, and soon a pile of dead Orcs accumulated at his horse's feet.
Tauriel herself had just parried an attack intended to throw her off her horse by thrusting one of her daggers into a particularly warty Orc's eye socket – what worked with spiders could not be wrong with Orcs. The creature had managed to cut through her trousers and she could feel blood drenching the fabric, but there was no time to worry about it because the next moment she saw a jagged blade fly towards her face. She quickly bent sideward to avoid it, slicing another Orc's throat in the process. She noticed with relief that no more attackers seemed to emerge from the forest, leaving them to deal with no more than four remaining ones.
The moment she saw the archer on the tree was the moment his arrow was released. "Down!" she shouted, but it was too late for the king to react. Fortunately, due to a baulk of his horse, the arrow missed his chest and only pierced his upper arm, causing him to drop his sword.
Another Orc attempted to attack him with an axe, but he produced a dagger from his saddle bag and threw it, splitting the Orc's forehead in two accurate halves. Tauriel marvelled at the result for a good moment before she heard the king's voice.
"Am I to expect any help from you, soldier?" he snarled while slaying another enemy with a sword – or whatever it was – that he had pulled out of the Orc pile on the ground. Tauriel shook off the astonishment and remembered the archer who was just aiming at the king for the second time. She drew her bow but it was too late to bring him down as the arrow was already flying.
Within a split second the world around her froze and the familiar coldness spread in her mind. She saw the trajectory of the arrow like a line drawn in the air, shifted her bow ever so slightly and shot. Her arrow hit the one of the Orc about three feet in front of the king. She aimed again and a moment later the archer fell off the tree.
In the meantime, the king eliminated the two remaining Orcs and dropped the blade with a disgusted look on his face before wiping his hand on his trousers.
"My lord," Tauriel said and rode over to him, "your arm…" He gave her a frown and looked down on the wound, grimacing.
Before Tauriel could say anything else, he descended from his horse, picked up his sword, examined the dead Orcs – now covered in black butterflies – and remounted. Without so much of a word he started in direction of the halls, leaving a clueless and guilt-ridden Tauriel to follow him in silence.
-x-x-x-x-
The captain looked at Tauriel with an expression that was even grimmer than usually. She bit her lip and forced herself to keep a straight posture. "Why were you on this mission anyway?" he asked, glaring at her. "Was not Etheldir supposed to go?"
Tauriel nodded slowly. "He asked me to replace him. He had an… accident. Nothing dramatic," she lied, praying to the Valar that the captain would not investigate the matter any further. Etheldir would have to do her a big favour in order to make up for this. As for her other comrade and the poor scribe, both of them had returned safely.
"I am sure you are aware of the reputation your negligence will cause your unit," the captain continued.
Tauriel gulped. "Yes, Captain."
"You nearly got the king killed," Rochanar deemed it necessary to point out.
"Yes, Captain," she repeated, wondering if her face could still get any hotter.
The captain turned around and took a few steps away from her. 'I hope he's not taking a run-up to go for my throat,' she thought.
But instead he turned back to face her and said, "Luckily for you, the king does not seem to mind. He was rather impressed with your performance. In fact, he specifically requested you to be part of his escort on his upcoming journey to Lothlórien."
Tauriel was not sure she had heard him right. She stared at him, trying to detect any signs of sarcasm. But the only thing she could see was a benevolent yet somewhat reluctant smirk spreading over his face.
"I knew I was right to prom-… transfer you," he grumbled. "Now go and get that leg bandaged."
-x-x-x-x-
Lothlórien – Tauriel still could not believe she was really there. She had dreamt of travelling outside the Woodland Realm since the first time she had read wondrous stories about foreign lands as a child. The Golden Wood was even more beautiful than she had imagined. The majestic mallorn trees were healthy and full of life, no foul creatures crept in the shadows and the sunlight actually reached the ground in most places. The Elven city named Caras Galadhon was built entirely on the strong, ancient trees and it had taken Tauriel a while to get used to spending most of the day so far above the ground instead of beneath it.
Within the two weeks that had already passed since their arrival she had found lots of opportunities to explore the beautiful place and its surroundings. The king did not require her or her comrades' service most of the time as he was busy speaking to his kinsman Lord Celeborn about all sorts of diplomatic matters – which, in fact, tended to turn into social conversations as soon as a glass of wine was involved. Thranduil was fond of his relative, even though he had never cared too much for Lady Galadriel, which was probably just as much due to her Noldorin descent as to her habit of answering his thoughts before he voiced them. Tauriel had caught a short glance of the rulers of Lothlórien at their arrival and came across them occasionally while roaming the city, but of course she had never spoken to them.
Instead she and her comrades had made the acquaintance of some Galadhrim soldiers who proved to be pleasant fellows after a day or two of getting used to the guests. Three brothers called Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin had taken Tauriel along on their forest patrol one day and she had been waiting for dangerous creatures to attack them the whole time. But nothing had happened. Nothing at all. At some point she had started pondering what was worse, spiders and Orcs or complete and utter boredom. At least he company had been pleasant enough and the Galadhrim guards had told her stories about Lothlórien while in turn asking her about her life in the Woodland Realm. Tauriel's own comrades preferred to stay among themselves and she could not possibly understand their reasons for deliberately passing on this opportunity to learn about another culture.
One who shared her enthusiasm was Legolas, who had accompanied his father on the journey. For Tauriel, still being affected by the revelations of a few weeks before, it had been a challenge to spend so much time in such close proximity to him during the journey without making her confusion too obvious. But somehow, since their arrival in the Golden Wood, she felt much more at ease around her old friend again. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the forest that made her feel so relaxed, she reasoned, or maybe the mere fact of being far away from their daily routine at home. Whatever it was, Tauriel was happy to be so comfortable around him again and enjoyed every minute they could spend together. When Legolas' presence was not required by his father or the Lord and Lady, he often wandered off with her to explore all the wonders that were not as new to him as he liked to pretend.
One evening Tauriel was sitting on the edge of an ample platform in one of the bigger mallorn trees, letting her legs dangle and listening to the distant song that waved over from another tree. She was contemplating the stars through a very conveniently located gap in the leave canopy.
She was violently interrupted when she heard light footsteps approach. Before she could even turn, she felt hands on her shoulders that gave her a little push, causing her to lose her balance and her heart to skip a beat, but she was pulled right back to safety.
"What is wrong with you?" she hissed and turned around. She knew it was Legolas; who else would think attempted murder qualified as a greeting?
He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."
"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," she grumbled, already failing to suppress her grin.
"Shall we go climb some trees?" he asked and held out a hand. It was an inside joke they had created after only a few days in Lothlórien. This time Tauriel accepted the hand offered to help her up.
"Shouldn't you be with your father?" she inquired while walking down the circular stairs that wound around the tree trunk.
Legolas let out a deep breath of pretended desperation. "Don't even ask about my father, meldis nín. He and Lord Celeborn are drinking wine and revelling in the good old times when they could still count the millennia of their lives on one hand."
Tauriel gave him a severe look and a light pat on his arm. "Don't be so mean! You should be glad that your father is so relaxed and cheerful."
They had reached the ground and made their way to the path leading out of the city. After a few turns, the lanterns became scarcer and the echo of the songs was barely heard anymore. In the gloomy light they could hardly see their hands in front of their faces, so both of them gave a little jump when a tall white figure appeared right in front of them.
"Legolas – what a pleasant surprise," the Lady of the Golden Wood greeted the prince.
"My lady," Legolas replied and both of them bowed to her. Tauriel tried to take a closer look at her without appearing too insolent. In the dark of the evening, she had the impression that Lady Galadriel was surrounded by a glimmer of white light. She was taller than most Eldar Tauriel had ever met and her hair did indeed resemble a stream of liquid gold, just as the tales described it.
The lady's eyes came to rest upon Tauriel, who felt as though the friendly but investigative gaze did not just contemplate her outer shape but pierce right into her soul. It was terrifying and soothing at the same time.
"And who is this?" Galadriel asked Legolas, while her eyes kept resting on Tauriel.
The prince explained, "Forgive me my negligence, my lady, and allow me to introduce Tauriel, a soldier with the Woodland Guard and a very dear friend of mine." Tauriel blushed at the thought of having just been formally introduced to a person she had learned about in history class.
The lady gave her a nearly invisible, enigmatic smile. "I see," she replied, looking at Legolas and then back at Tauriel. "Have a pleasant walk then. But do not venture too far." With that she gave them a nod and started walking in direction of the talans.
Tauriel had to shake her head and blink several times to get her mind back on track. She looked at Legolas, who seemed slightly confused as well, but apparently he bore it more easily than she did. He guessed her thought from her face and mumbled, "She does that. You get used to it eventually." Tauriel just nodded, trying to get the echo of the lady's words out of her head.
They walked in silence for a while, breathing in the sweet scent of the forest, contemplating their own thoughts. After some time – Tauriel did not know how long they had been wandering – they came to the bank of the river. The water was calm and black, reflecting the bright starlight.
"Look," Tauriel whispered and pointed to the opposite bank. Hundreds of tiny green lights were flickering a few feet above the water surface. Tauriel remembered the last time she had seen a swarm of fireflies during their summer dance above the Forest River.
Legolas smiled; she could not see it but infer from his tone of voice. "No spiders this time," was his somewhat obvious contribution.
Tauriel did not take her eyes off the fireflies when she felt Legolas' hand reach for hers. Her mind kept arguing against it, but she did not listen to its numerous and undoubtedly sensible objections. Instead she leaned against his shoulder, looked up at him as soon as she felt his hand under her chin and offered no resistance whatsoever when he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. His lips were soft and warm and the light touch of his skin made her ignore the guilt that was boiling up inside her.
'What am I doing?' she screamed at herself silently while still allowing her lips to part and the kiss to deepen. It felt right and wrong at the same time; in fact, as right as nothing had ever felt before and so wrong that it made her stomach cramp in fear of what might happen as soon as this unreal moment would end.
With an effort of will stronger than she had thought she could manage, she gently pulled away and took a deep breath. Not daring to look into Legolas's face, she whispered, "Let's not be silly." She wondered why hearing these words come out of her mouth hurt worse than any spider bite.
Legolas let go of her hand, reluctant but not too surprised. Tauriel threw a last look at the dancing fireflies, then she slowly started walking back the way they had come from.