A/N: Tauriel is alive, and we get to see some familiar faces...and one maybe not so familiar.

The first thing to tell Tauriel she had survived was the bright sunlight stinging her eyelids. She drew them more tightly closed to shut out the light, but that did nothing to dissuade the shining rays from disturbing her.

A moan escaped her as the second thing to tell her she still lived registered—she ached everywhere. She could now feel a dull pounding in her head, and her entire body felt like she had been trampled by the horde of orcs and goblins that had chased her down the mountain.

That she was not alone was the final thing, as a voice all too familiar to her ears spoke her name softly.

"Tauriel?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself looking upon a face she had not expected to see again, at least not anytime soon.

"I must be dreaming," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For you cannot possibly be here." Wherever 'here' was…

The silver-blond ellon perched on a chair next to her turned up the corners of his mouth in a tentative smile. The brown-haired female that had come to stand beside him said, "I'll go and fetch a healer."

Legolas looked up at her and nodded, then back to Tauriel as the woman left. "If it were a dream, I pray you would think it a good one, mellon nín."

Tauriel smiled weakly. "No dream in which you appear could be anything but pleasant, cund nín."

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to study her surroundings. She was in a beautifully appointed room with beige stone walls, tucked into a bed that was easily wide enough to fit three across. On the opposite wall was an unlit fireplace with a magnificent mantle—it had been carved so that it appeared two trees, one on each side, were leaning toward each other, their intertwined branches creating the mantle itself. The leaves of the trees, which climbed the wall above and surrounded a mirror, were painted various shades of green; the trunks were a light brown. The sunlight that had wakened her streamed in through glassless windows that appeared—from what she could see in her prone position—to look out onto lush foliage.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This place is known to many as the Last Homely House East of the Sea," said a deep-timbered voice, the speaker entering the room slowly. "The name in Sindarin is Imladris, in the Common Tongue it is called Rivendell."

The smile he favored her with was warm and welcoming as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed. "Of course, my family and I simply call it home."

Legolas had stood upon the richly-clad elf's entrance and bowed his head. "My Lord Elrond," he said.

Tauriel's eyes widened and she shifted her arms in order to push herself up off the bed—though she fell back instantly, both arms giving way under her.

"Do not trouble yourself to rise, my dear," said Elrond. "You are certainly still weak after suffering such grievous injuries as you did—not to mention you were quite malnourished when the Rangers found you."

Tauriel could feel Legolas' eyes on her even as he returned to his seat. Ignoring the comment about the state of her health before the attack, she asked, "What of my horse? Were they able to save her as well?"

The subtle shift in Elrond's expression told her before he even said the words. "I'm sorry, Tauriel. You were brought ahead by two of the group while the others dealt with the horde that chased you. By the time they reached her after dispatching the creatures, it was too late for the mare. She was given a dignified burial on the hillside. "

Tears fell silently from the corners of her eyes. She'd not owned Fera long—the horse had been left behind along with several others by Thranduil when he and the Mirkwood soldiers had departed Dale after the battle. The chestnut mare had seemed unsure of herself in the unfamiliar environment, if such could be said of a horse, which is why she had been drawn to her immediately and claimed her for her own—she'd felt the same way at the time. Over the last five months, Fera had become one of her closest companions.

Besides Bard, that is.

Thinking of him now, alarm suddenly raced through her. Had he been aware of her injury? How had he reacted if he had? She could feel that the two of them were still connected through their mating bond, though she could not hear his thoughts or sense his emotions—she just knew he was there.

"How… how long have I been here?" she asked.

"You were unconscious for eight days," Legolas answered. "For the first two or three, we worried you might not make it."

Elrond surprised her by smirking. "He worried," the elf-lord said, jerking a thumb at Legolas. "I had complete faith in my skills and the power of Lady Ranárë."

Tauriel frowned. "Who is that?"

Legolas glanced at Elrond, who said, "Ranárë is a guest here. She is of the Maiar, and was riding with the Rangers who were actually in Hollin to track the orc pack that attacked you. She used her powers to slow the spread of the poison from the three arrows you were struck with—which, given its potency and your condition—was a very great blessing indeed. The place where the Rangers came upon you is a two-day ride from Imladris."

"Had she not slowed the poison, you would have been dead by the time they brought you through the gate," Legolas added with a visible shudder.

She let her gaze roam over him for a moment. Legolas seemed genuinely shaken by the fact that she'd come close to dying. Tauriel considered it a blessing that she could still count the prince as a friend, though if he knew her present circumstances—such as why she'd been travelling alone through the mountains to begin with—he might well amend his regard.

Hopefully she'd never have to tell him.

Turning her eyes to Lord Elrond, she said, "You have my deepest thanks, my Lord, for seeing to my care. I shall have to think of some way to repay your kindness."

Elrond shook his head. "No repayment need be made, child. It is my duty as a healer to mend the ill. Take your rest now and regain your strength. Seeing as you are fully with us once more, I'll have someone bring you something to eat. Do your flesh a great favor and actually eat it—the nourishment will do you well."

"That was…odd," Tauriel murmured after Elrond had departed.

Legolas snorted lightly. "Lord Elrond is no different from my father in that he sometimes likes to speak in riddles," he said, then turned a pointed gaze her way. She felt like squirming under the scrutiny but did not yet feel as though she had the strength.

"What?" she queried after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Dear Valar, was he reading her mating bond? Please, don't let him ask me about it, she begged silently.

If Legolas had noticed she was wed, he thankfully did not mention it, saying only, "Why would you be malnourished?"

She looked away from him. "I'm sure Lord Elrond was exaggerating," she muttered.

"I have never known the Ñoldo to exaggerate the entire time I have known him," the prince countered.

"And how long is that?" she asked.

"Two months, which before you ask is how long I have been in Imladris. And you have not answered my question, Tauriel—don't make me pull rank on you."

Tauriel favored her friend with a raised eyebrow. "You cannot do so here, Legolas—Imladris is not Mirkwood, therefore you cannot claim rank over me either as my prince or my commanding officer. Here we are equals."

"Then I bid you treat me as such and give me an answer," he countered. "Why do you desire to avoid the question? I've never known you to be evasive."

Frustrated with wanting to be honest—he deserved that much for standing up for her in the face of his father's threat to her life, if not for the centuries of friendship and camaraderie—but not sure how to do so without blurting out her entire miserable story, Tauriel groaned and said, "For goodness' sake, Legolas—game was scarce as I traveled through the mountains. Why else would I not have eaten much?"

The look in his eyes was clear indication he did not believe her half-lie, but she was saved from further questioning, at least for the moment, by the entrance of the brunette from before. She'd pulled her hair back sometime during her absence, and Tauriel noted that though she was quite fair, she was no elf. She carried in her hands a silver serving tray, which she set on the bedside table, then lifted the cover off the single bowl in the middle.

"The kitchen has prepared a hearty soup for you, miss," the young woman said. "Lord Elrond bade me remind you to eat all of it."

"Thank you, Gilraen," said Legolas, offering the woman a smile.

Tauriel held back a groan but did not refrain from rolling her eyes. What the hell was the big deal about her not eating? An elf could go for weeks on nothing but water if necessary, and while scarceness of game had not been her reason—she'd seen plenty of small creatures and edible foliage during her trek—it was one that should satisfy anyone who asked.

Anyone, she mused sourly as Gilraen helped her sit up against the headboard, except Legolas. He stared at her with an indecipherable mask as the tray was placed across her lap. Gilraen wished her enjoyment of the repast and left again. Picking up the spoon beside the bowl, the elleth dipped it into the brown broth filled with vegetables and cuts of meat, lifting it to her lips to blow on the hot liquid.

Legolas was still staring. And that was really starting to annoy her. "I do not need you to watch my every move, you know," she said before finally putting the spoonful in her mouth.

Admittedly, the soup tasted delicious—even as she lowered the spoon again, her mouth was watering for more. It was not until she'd taken three that her stonily silent companion spoke again.

"I'll leave you to your meal, Captain," he said abruptly, standing as he did so. Tauriel knew he was angry by the way he used her rank, which he had only ever done when in front of other soldiers or when he was cross. And if that hadn't been enough to tell her of his ire, the stiff way he walked—no, stalked—to the door certainly was.

He paused on the threshold to look over his shoulder at her. "When you feel like being forthcoming with the truth, let me know."

Though the snick of the door shutting was soft, in her mind it was as though he'd slammed it. Tauriel's stomach dropped, and now the very thing he and Elrond wanted her to do so badly she had no desire to comply with—her appetite had left the room with her best friend.

Sindarin:

cund nín - my prince