Finally got y'all an update. :) It's a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I had to cut it off here or make the chapter ridiculously long.
ColdOnePaul, Guest, yes, she is definitely not the typical wood elf. That is an interesting idea about Gandalf giving her a medical draught. I'd never really considered that as a possible turn for the story to take. Right now, Audriel is still trying to keep her injuries a secret from the rest of the group - of course, Gandalf probably knows either way but it never hurts to try. ;)
Warriorheart5, bipolar is an excellent description for her. I added a bit of interaction between our two favorite elves in this chapter, although not much. This fic is a super slow burn, so don't expect any huge developments all at once. :)
Ronan, I loved writing that bit! I hope I managed to capture Aragorn's character fairly well. They are two utterly different characters and it was interesting to see them clash.
Tk0vrDawn, yes. Even an elf probably should have faded by now, though there is a reason for that not happening.
Guest, it'll definitely happen in the next few chapters! :D
Hope y'all enjoy!
"It's good," Merry muttered, half-musingly. "Definitely from the Shire. Longbottom Leaf."
Pippin nodded. "I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon."
"Green Dragon," Merry sighed.
"A mug of ale in my hand . . . putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work."
Merry snickered. "Only, you've never done a hard day's work."
They both laughed.
Tauriel's eyes slid over the moss-covered tree trunks, her skin tingling with the desire to reach out and explore the woodland.
She knew better, though.
A shiver traced its way down her spine, stabs of pain following close behind.
The atmosphere was tense.
And dark.
Shadowy.
They were all tensed with expectation.
And perhaps more than a little worry.
Mithrandir, too, had reassured them that if anyone knew where the two hobbits were, it would be Tauriel.
Audriel had watched the proceedings with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smile.
Theoden had scowled and thankfully had not offered up his opinion on the matter.
Aragorn, too, had been almost entirely silent for the majority of the journey. There were deep lines spreading out from the corners of his eyes, and his mouth was tight.
Tauriel had often followed his gaze and found it resting upon her mother.
It worried her, that. More than it probably should - she knew that Audriel was not especially easy to interact with.
But there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head.
...careful careful careful careful...
Though the vivid, horror-tainted hallucinations had vanished within another day's time - and she had been immensely relieved - she oft times found herself wondering if she perhaps could not use Aruelle's advice.
And there were more memories coming back.
She almost wanted them to stay lost. To stay buried in the past.
She was jerked from her thoughts by a gentle brush of fingers on her elbow. Her knee-jerk reaction was to lurch away and reach for the knife at her belt, but she stopped.
"The trees," Legolas said, his grey eyes steady. "Do they speak to you?"
Tauriel flinched at the very thought, eyes tracing their way over the tangles of deep-green and coarse leaves that shivered in the wind.
She opened her mouth and then closed it.
She did not know what to say.
She had offered a truce between them - a friendship, of sorts.
She knew she had to follow through.
She wanted to.
And yet she did not.
The medicines for her pain were blurring everything.
Making it all go bright and then dull again.
Legolas was still waiting for an answer. His face was calm. There was no hint of accusation painted over it.
She swallowed.
"No," she said. "I do not dare to speak to them. These trees - they are dangerous. They are angry, even now."
A soft hum of what seemed to be surprise came from her left, where Audriel was positioned. Aragorn was riding ahead with Gimli and Theoden, and Gandalf was muttering something from around his pipe, somewhere in the general area.
Tauriel glanced at her mother and then back at Legolas, whose brow was furrowed in a way that usually meant he was about to demand if she was all right.
She tensed, waiting for the question.
But it never came.
"Saruman made a grave mistake when he awoke the wrath of the woodland," Legolas murmured, inclining his head slightly.
Tauriel nodded wordlessly, the tension mostly leaving her shoulders.
One of her wounds had broken open again, she noted, almost absently - she could barely feel the pain.
But she could feel the blood sliding down her leg, staining her skin berry-red.
She hesitated, and looked to Audriel.
"Mother," she said in a low voice, vague humiliation tainting her words, and Audriel's eyes sharpened in instant understanding. She reached into her saddle bag, handing Tauriel the balm and a roll of bandaging.
Legolas looked away, his jaw tightening, as Tauriel leaned down, holding her horse's reins with one hand as she peeled the leggings upwards, ripping the scarlet-soaked bandages away almost casually. Smearing the balm onto the wound and working it as best she could, she wrapped the fresh bandaging around it snuggly and worked the cloth downwards to cover her skin once more.
She half-expected a comment on how she should take better care of herself, but all was pleasingly silent.
A muscle was ticking at his jawline, though, and for a moment she felt a flash of remorse.
It was wiped away by the sound of hoofbeats as Aragorn guided his mount towards them, moving at an easy trot as Gimli clung tightly behind him. Theoden sat easy in the saddle, his face creased with expectation.
"We are close now," Aragorn said, the words coming out colder than she though they should have given the current circumstances.
Gandalf brightened, pulling his pipe away from his mouth. "Good! Very good. Are we all ready, then?"
Tauriel forced herself to nod.
What if I am wrong? I could be wrong. I could be. And then - and then...?
Enough.
The word hit her like a lightning bolt, making her jolt painfully in her seat.
Audriel glared at her. Stop doubting yourself.
And now she recognized the voice.
The voice that had once urged her to let the fires burn, for when she came out of them she would be stronger.
"You," she breathed, turning to stare at her mother, and almost as if in answer to her words, a gentle breeze floated over them, whipping softly at her long hair.
Audriel half-scowled, arching a brow so high it nearly hit her hairline. Yes, me. I am rather surprised you did not realize it before.
Tauriel shook herself.
Legolas was staring at them rather suspiciously, looking as if he was fighting the urge to inquire about something.
Why did you not tell me? Why did you say that? How did you know? The questions tumbled from her, and even though she did not speak her lips were silently forming the words.
The horses were moving forwards again, their hooves clopping against the moist soil in a sound that was inexplicably soothing.
Cease your senseless chatter, Audriel snapped, and Tauriel found herself a bit taken aback by her bluntness. I will answer your questions in time. But you cannot risk our being discovered now - not when we are so close.
Something snapped, the tugging cord vanishing and then slumping awkwardly in her mind.
Tauriel shook herself, glancing at her mother for a moment - she was scowling - and then looked at Legolas, who appeared more than a little bemused.
"What?" she growled, ill-temper overtaking her for a brief moment. She regretted her tone as soon as she had closed her mouth; Legolas blinked and then turned his face away.
She winced.
Swallowed, harder than necessary, and shoved at the crumbling texture of her vision. Water was swirling all around her, lapping over her skin. She could feel the coolness of it, soothing the aches away.
But it was not reality, she knew, and so she pushed until it disappeared.
"I am sorry," she muttered, so quietly she thought even his elven ears would not have heard.
But he nodded, the movement a bit sharper than usual. "It is forgiven, then. I understand," he said, and rode on without further comment.
She could not help feeling like there was an "all" stuck in between the "is" and "forgiven".
It is all forgiven, then.
But, she told herself, it was just the medicines.
They broke through into the sunlight as the sun was just barely starting to ride low on the horizon.
It took a brief moment for her eyes to adjust to the glaring light, and then as they focused, her entire body slumped in weak-kneed relief.
They are here, she was crying out inside, they are alive!
"Welcome, my lord," one of them - Merry, she thought - called, pointing upwards towards the great tower, "to Isengard!"
The other chortled like a loon from around his pipe.
"You young rascals!" Gimli growled, eyes flashing from underneath his helmet. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and smoking!"
Tauriel frowned, sniffing the air as inconspicuously as she could. The air was indeed a bit smoky. She coughed lightly.
"We," Pippin said impishly," are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."
"Salted pork?" Gimli demanded.
Pippin smirked.
Gandalf shook his head in good-natured disgust. "Hobbits."
"We're under orders, from Treabeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," Merry added.
Tauriel froze.
Yes, her mind was singing, yes, yes! You know what do do now, you remember...
The problem was, she couldn't. She shut her eyes and tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart.
The waves lapped and tugged and pulled, and they were carrying her away, out on the tide. She wondered if she would ever return.
Her eyes opened so abruptly it almost hurt.
Yes, she thought again. Yes, I do. I do remember.
"Young Master Gandalf," Treebeard croaked, dipping his massive craggy head. "I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."
Tauriel hunkered in on herself, trying to keep her mind from shattering into a million tiny little pieces.
"Show yourself," she heard Aragorn whisper.
The words echoed in her ears.
Show yourself.
Show...
...you remember...
You know, now.
Show yourself...
She sucked in a breath of air.
And straightened, lifting her chin as she allowed her rusty red hair to slide down her shoulders.
The blurriness was all gone.
Treebeard stopped midstride.
"You," he said, his great voice sounding absurdly underused with the single, slightly weak, word.
They all stilled, following his gaze until every single one was staring at Tauriel.
Theoden looked blatantly horrified, almost as if he expected her to doom them all to a terrible fate. Gandalf was politely curious, Gimli questioning. Aragorn and Legolas backed their horses up a few steps.
Even Audriel moved ever so slightly away. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, glittering poison-green in the sunlight.
Tauriel cleared her throat.
"Yes," she said, the word tearing itself painfully from her throat. "Me."
A moment of tense silence.
He spoke again.
"You will have to speak with me later, forest-child," Treebeard croaked, his voice grave.
Tauriel half-flinched.
"Aye," she finally rasped. "I will."
He nodded, seeming satisfied. Around them, the others began to move and speak normally once more.
"Be careful," Mithrandir was saying. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."
"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli suggested, sounding eager to begin with those particular proceedings.
"No," the wizard said sharply. "We need him alive. We need him to talk."
And Audriel grinned, then, with needle-sharp teeth and lips bitten red over the course of the past few days.
Tauriel did not notice.
She listened to the gentle whisper of the wind, her fingers tracing along the fletching of an arrow.
Yes. I remember, now.
"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden-king, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"
Tauriel tugged herself from her thoughts in time to see the king's face curl into a half-snarl.
"We shall have peace," he snapped. "Yes, we shalll have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn, even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!"
The wizard's lip curled. "Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess - the key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dur itself along with the crowns on the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"
Gandalf shifted ever so slightly on Shadowfax's back. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."
Tauriel's eyes flicked over the top of the tower, searching for anyone else. She felt like there was something - or someone - she should be looking for.
Audriel hissed through clenched teeth beside her.
Had Tauriel been looking, she would have seen the rippling of her mother's features as her hair bleached white-blonde and then streaked through with mirky brown.
"So you have come here for information," Saruman said, not sounding surprised. "I have some for you, then."
He lifted up what Tauriel knew to be his Palantir and looked into it.
"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." He dropped the globe almost carelessly. "Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die."
Gandalf nudged Shadowfax forward until he was almost at the base of the Orthanc.
"But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."
"It matters not," Audriel snarled abruptly.
Saruman froze.
Everyone else fell silent as well. Gandalf's mouth was half-opened, as if he was about to answer.
"Aruelle," Saruman said, emotionless.
Audriel's lip peeled back into a snarl. "No," she hissed. "Audriel."
"I've heard enough!" Gimli growled to Legolas somewhere behind them. "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."
"No," Gandalf said sharply. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."
"And are you all in agreement with that?" Saruman snapped. "If I know anything about two of your elven companions, it is that they will not allow that to come to pass." He waved his hand dismissively. "Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!"
A flash of orange-white fire, and a ball of flames erupted from Saruman's staff. It gathered around Gandalf, and Tauriel tensed all over, but rather than hitting him it mushroomed around him, held at bay by some sort of shield.
She exhaled almost imperceptibly.
Gandalf waved his own staff, dispersing the flames. "Saruman, your staff is broken."
Saruman stared down at his hands in horror as the staff crumbled in his hands.
Abruptly, someone rose up from behind the ruined wizard.
Tauriel sucked in a breath.
It was Grima Wormtongue.
She felt disgust coil low in her gut and pushed it harshly down.
"Grima," Theoden called, "you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down."
Tauriel gaped at Theoden in disbelief and knew that he was perhaps right to offer Wormtongue a second chance, but also felt that if she had her way he would lie dead with an arrow through his eye.
"A Man of Rohan?" Saruman sneered. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."
"Grima, come down. Be free of him." Theoden had apparently decided to ignore Saruman's vile words.
"Free?" Saruman was chuckling. "He will never be free."
"No," Grima Wormtongue said slowly.
Someone else stepped forward, cloaked in dark colors, their face shielded from view.
Tauriel's pulse leaped several notches higher.
I know you.
I remember.
Show yourself.
Slowly, the figure's head turned, and it seemed to meet her gaze. She saw a glimmer of icy eyes, and then they reached upwards, preparing to lower the cowl of their cloak.
"Get down, cur," Saruman was snarling, backhanding Grima across the face and sending him tumbling backwards.
The hand was pale, wrapped in heavy scarring.
It fingered the hood, and then it fell backwards, revealing their face.
Tauriel started as if hit by a bolt of lightning.
I know you.
I remember.
Remember what you did.
She lifted her own hand, watching it tremble much harder than it should, and pointed. When she spoke, her words were filled with icy horror, the sound echoing around them all as she felt her mouth fill with bile and her stomach churn dangerously.
"You."
Hmm, I wonder who that could be. ;)
I have a good bit of the next chapter written. It will be up within three weeks, hopefully within two. I tend to update on either Wednesdays or the weekends. :)
Thank y'all so much for reading!