Yay, an update! Thanks you all for your support. I am relieved that I'm able to post this so quickly!
guest, haha! That was kinda the goal. And yes, it probably is a given, but I have changed things up a bit in this fic. Elven abilited are either not as potent or slightly enhanced, depending on who it is and what is happening.
Warriorheart5 (so glad to see you got an account), there will be little to none of Arwen and her investigation for a good while. I reached a good stopping point, and there was not too much more I could say on that particular subject without giving it all away. :p
AppleCrisp, LOL! Legolas can be a bit stubborn. ;)
Guest, so glad you enjoyed it!
shenagians, you're welcome, although sadly it won't last for long. :(
TaurielForeststar, so glad you enjoyed it! I hope you continue to enjoy the series.
Enjoy!
"Don't touch me!" she snarled, jerking her hand away.
Legolas frowned down at the small elleth. "You require assistance if you are to walk."
Her lip curled. "I will manage." Her voice was surprisingly rich, belying her slim frame and fragile appearance. She had not yet gained the fine, lilting tone of the elves, raised away from her kin as she was.
He watched her struggle for a moment, seeing the fierce determination burning underneath the surface. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that she was strong. "If you fall, I will be forced to carry you."
"I will not fall."
"Very well."
They walked on in silence. Legolas looked down at her every few minutes, curious about how this strange, red-haired elf had come to be so very wary of others. He briefly considered asking her, but discarded the idea. She would only glare at him and limp away.
"Your father is very tall."
Legolas jumped slightly; the words were unanticipated. He looked down at her. She was staring back at him, her green eyes huge in her face. He was unnerved by the look in her eyes, a strange depth that should not have come to be there for many years.
"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to speak to me, or are you going to stand there as if you've gone daft?"
He opened his mouth to shoot back a scathing comment, and then stopped, for he had nothing to say. With a slightly audible click, he shut his mouth, feeling foolish.
She shook her head in disgust, red hair swirling around her shoulders as she did so. "Perhaps he is daft," she said under her breath.
"No," Legolas growled, finding his voice, "I am not daft. Indeed, I am far from it. I have been tutored by some of the most highly respected individuals in the elven kingdoms."
She looked at him from the corner of her eye, unimpressed. "And?"
The tips of his ears turned pink. "And nothing."
She snorted, falling silent for several minutes. Legolas, reluctant to start up the conversation again, avoided eye contact and remained several steps behind her.
She whirled around suddenly. "What are they going to call me?" she burst out.
Legolas froze, hesitating even though he knew that he would have to tell her eventually. "Tauriel," he said. "Your name is Tauriel."
Legolas was still for several long moments, treasuring the lingering memory as his father had once caressed his wife's finest jewels. Looking down at Tauriel, he watched as she bathed Boromir's wounds for the third time that day.
She cares for him dearly, he thought, fighting back an unexpected flash of jealousy. His resentment towards Boromir disgusted him deeply, and bile began to rise in his throat. Even now, she is tainting me.
Too late, he realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud.
Tauriel looked up, and though the leafy branches concealed him completely, he could have sworn she met his gaze. Something flashed deep down in the pools of green – recognition? Fear? – and then she was standing, a dagger in one hand.
"Forgive me," she murmured to Boromir, and began to advance quickly towards Legolas's tree.
He froze, praying that she would turn back.
She didn't.
Hesitating for a mere moment to sheathe the dagger and unsling her bow from her shoulder, Tauriel tested it, drawing the cord slightly past her ear. Legolas sensed that she was verifying her strength, trying to discover if her wound had healed enough to nock and draw an arrow.
She relieved the pressure on the cord, then flipped an arrow from her quiver and nocked it.
A shiver ran down his spine. He had no way of knowing how she would react to his presence. Long ago, when they had still been friends, she had almost put an arrow through him in exchange for his watching her without her knowledge. The chances of it happening once more were greatly increased this time, and he had little doubt that she would miss, though before it had been by mere inches.
Tauriel reached the base of the tree.
Legolas remained perfectly still, holding his breath, not even blinking.
She cocked her head, listening, then reached up and flipped herself into the tree.
He slumped slightly, resigned.
She continued to climb, her legs scissoring as she retrieved the momentum and used it to her own advantage. With a final heave, she was but a few feet below him.
Sighing, Legolas opened his mouth to call out. He never got a chance. Far sooner than he had anticipated, she had lunged forward and slipped a knife to his throat. The movement was quick and clean, and if she wished she could slit his throat with but a single twitch of her hand.
"Hello, Legolas," she hissed in his ear.
Tauriel's grip tightened around Legolas's neck, every inch of her body loose and yet ready for a fight. Rage burned hot in her veins, reducing any regret she had had to ashes.
"How long have you been here?" she growled.
He hesitated.
"Do not lie to me," she warned him, the blade drawing a small bead of blood at his throat. "I will know, and I have no patience for lies today."
Legolas swallowed almost calmly. "I have been here since briefly after Aragorn and Gimli left."
Tauriel recoiled slightly, horror painted on her face. "What?"
"I believe you heard me clearly the first time."
Tauriel's lips thinned, her skin stretched tautly over her cheek bones. Ever since she had dropped the glamour, her face had been sharper-cut, though she hoped it would fade.
"So despite your blatant hatred of me, you decided to come back and spy on me - us?" she demanded.
"Apparently," he said dryly.
Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. "You will leave," she said calmly. "You will leave, and you will not dare to come back. Boromir and I will follow Aragorn and Gimli shortly. Despite my lies, I have never had anything but the good of the Fellowship in mind. I admit I have pondered about your own intentions."
Legolas stiffened. "You mock me."
"Nay. I merely state the truth behind my thoughts."
She faintly heard his teeth grinding together.
"Careful," she said in a sing-song tone. "You could hurt yourself."
He tried to explode forward, but was stopped by the razor sharp-blade at his throat. "Do not try to get away from me," Tauriel said softly into his ear. "I will have no qualms about putting an arrow through one of your legs. They say that the lower thigh is particularly painful, though I have never had the opportunity to test the theory."
Legolas stilled, sagging back against her chest. Tauriel knew exactly what he was hoping for, and was careful to keep the blade close to his throat.
"Remember," she whispered. "I trained with you for years. Indeed, you taught me most of what I know in archery. And I taught you how to fight with a pair of blades. I know you far too well for you to even try and escape my grip.
"Then let me go," Legolas said. "You know I will keep my word if I leave you and Boromir behind."
"No, I don't," Tauriel said flatly. "You have lied to me before, you will likely do it again. You no longer carry even a fraction of my trust. I would expect no less of you were our positions changed."
"You lied to me," he pointed out. "Lied to me hundreds of times. Lied to us all with every breath you took. There is no forgiveness in my heart for someone who does that."
Though he could not see it, her eyes flashed bright with pain behind his back.
"So this is how it will be? For the rest of our lives, we will follow each other, threatening death and pain if the other does not leave." There was abrupt and intense sadness in her voice, and it surprised Legolas.
"Perhaps," he said.
Tauriel stepped away, the movement swift and deliberate. "Go. Go, and do not come back. I have no wish to see you again, but I have no doubt our paths will cross once more when I join Gimli and Aragorn once more. I will be watching, Legolas. Do not even try to return. Next time, only one of us will be walking away unharmed."
Legolas turned to look at her, mild shock in his grey eyes. He shook his head. "Very well." There was a moment of tense silence, and then he began to slip away.
Unspoken words hovered in the air. Goodbye.
When she was sure he was gone, Tauriel slid into a sitting positon, her eyes bright with suppressed tears. As much as it had hurt others to say and do what she had done, she often wondered if they ever stopped to consider how much of an effect it had on herself.
How much pain and guilt washed over her every time she remembered.
How everyone she had ever been close to haunted her waking hours and screamed in her dreams.
She forced herself to stand on shaky legs.
"Remember," she told herself. "Remember that you can't go back."
Deep in the woodland that she had once loved so much, the trees were stirring.
Audriel, they whispered. She is back. But her daughter. Where is her daughter? She carries the key to the return of the Greenwood as it once was.
All fell silent. Their branches slowly turned to dust, their leaves collapsing like parchment in the breeze. They fell, the sound thundering through the broken forest.
And in his fortress of stone, Thranduil sat on the oaken throne that was slowly crumbling beneath him, his face emotionless. There was no hint of pain or regret on his face. Indeed, he looked purely impartial to the world around him.
But if you looked closely, there was something sliding down his cheek. The single droplet glittered like the finest diamond, sparkled like the far-away stars. It was pure and beautiful, woven
For the first time in centuries, the Elvenking was crying.
Boromir slept fitfully, the fever ravaging his body. Tauriel sat with him in silence, her back against the tree trunk. Her shoulder throbbed painfully with every pulse of her heart, but the discomfort was minimal compared to the ache in her heart.
She blinked, bracing herself against the pain. It was a small price to pay for the Fellowship's safety.
With a quite grunt as she twisted towards Boromir, Tauriel sighed, a small smile twisting her mouth as she looked at him. His lips had begun to crack and bleed, soothed only by a reduction in the fever. And yet, there was a small piece of her that wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. Days ago, she had reluctantly admitted to herself that she could have loved him.
Already, she cared for him just as much as she had cared for him – for Kili. The familiar twinge in her chest was right.
But somehow, it was not the same as the glow she drew from Legolas. Not as bright, nor as strong.
"I loved him," she said aloud. "I love him still. But it is best for us both that we live our lives apart. His father would never forgive me if I did wed him. Indeed, I might never forgive myself. I would tear his life apart and scatter it to the wind. We are far too different, and the gap between us has only widened."
Boromir shifted on the small, makeshift bed.
"You asked me once if I thought he would forgive me. He won't. Not this time. Not after what I have said and done. I pushed him too far too many times, and though it is best for us both, it still hurts."
Boromir gasped something suddenly, and she started. Rushing to him, she knelt at his side.
"Mellon?" she whispered.
He inhaled sharply, his hand jerking towards her own. "Tauriel. Mellonamin. Please, don't go."
She smiled at him sadly, barely noticing his mangling of the delicate elvish word. "I won't," she whispered. "I promise."
Lord Elrond stared out into the courtyard, his face stern. Words echoed in his ears, words from a thousand years ago. They had been filled with malice, with pain – with hate.
Liar! You lied to me.
I am not evil, brother. But then again, what is truly dark? Shadow can only destroy so much.
You have fallen, he had said.
And then his sister smiled, and the grin was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Yes, I have.
He compared his oldest memories to his experience with Tauriel. With the elf who had the same fire, the same black blood running in her veins. His own words came back to him, but they were not the ones he had spoken to the elf with the blazing red locks. No, these had been uttered to his sister.
Don't go. Please.
Fire flowing through her, destroying all reason. He could see it, see it burning through her veins and rendering her mind and body to ashes. I already have, brother. You have just been too blind to see it.
Lord Elrond turned, walking slowly into his chambers. With a shaking hand, he turned aside the piles of old parchment, searching for the small, leather bound book that should have been there. His chest ached, and he desperately wanted to see something that she had once touched with fingers that were still warm, smiled about even in her darkest days.
There was nothing. Horror washed over him, turning his skin hot and cold in turn. No. No! This – this was all I had left of her. He closed his eyes against the throbbing wound that should have healed long ago and yet had not. He fell back, the pain turning his legs to water as he sank to the stone floor. The fire was in him now, red-hot, scorching at his heart. After so long, it should have died. Should have been destroyed with her.
But it hadn't. Because somewhere, there was another elf with an ember inside her chest, aching for freedom.
The fire was indeed still burning. And he feared that it would destroy them all.
Soooo. Yeah. Insert awkward silence here.
'Kay, silence over. I will be updating ASAP, though it might be a little later than usual due to a packed work schedule. Hope y'all enjoyed the snippets of Legolas/Tauriel. And no, this will not be a Boromir/Tauriel fic. I promise.
R&R, please!