Characters belong to whoever international law says they do. Where this is not me I am content. For pleasure not profit.
If the shade of Tolkein still bothers with this Earth I hope he will accept my apologies for my inadequacies in writing for his wonderful creations. It is done with deep respect.
Authors note:
Delay is what happens when a later part of the story wants to be written ahead of its time. Apologies if this bit isn't as polished as it should be as a result.
The reader should assume that all of these conversations are taking place in the relevant language, e.g. Sindaran Elvish and that the writer has translated for you. Therefore there will be no terms to be explained.
Midwinter Ghosts
It was midwinter eve and the streets of Dale were ablaze with light even though the early dusk had settled over the city several hours ago; torches burned at every doorway, braziers were already lit the public squares and bonfires burned wherever anyone could start one safely, and in some cases unsafely. Already the light had been added to by half a dozen burning buildings, for the lessons of dragon fire was beginning to fade.
The snow had started falling not long after sunset and it lay in a thickening carpet on every surface that was not being walked or sat upon, but despite it the streets were thronged with people, some on their way somewhere, others on their way back, for the days work had ended early and many had already started their celebrations. Such was the press of people in the main thoroughfares that jostling was inevitable but the good humour of the day meant that little in way of violence had so far resulted. Most of the throng were dressed in their best and their minds were on feasting and merriment with little thought for the events of the past or those to come. This was the season to enjoy the present..
The Great Hall was not yet rebuilt, and a skeleton of poles and posts still surrounded it like some giant web, but in the square before it people were gathered to watch others or to be watched and to purchase warm wine and roasted nuts to keep the chill of the night at bay. Many street entertainers, jugglers, magicians and wandering players amongst them had established their pitches early, for on this night of the year no toll was charged of them provided they were performing before sunset, and patrolling city guards kept a stern eye on things to ensure that the rules were not abused and that no arguments about the rights to a pitch disturbed the peace. The inns and other hostelries were full to overflowing for many people had come from the surrounding lands to celebrate the feast within the city, yet the crowd was largely comprised of the children of men. Each midwinter was much the same as the last, the children of men feasted and drank too much rough ale with many waking with too sore a head to enjoy the feast day itself. Perhaps for this reason the dwarves and elves preferred to keep the feast in their own lands and Halls.
But there were exceptions and in a quiet but imposing square behind the Great Hall lamps burned in the newly completed house of the representatives of the Elvenking. Faint strains of harp and flute could be heard by those passing close to its windows but no other sign of the activities of the occupants were visible from the street. For the small garrison of elves in Dale the feasting was behind closed doors and was tinged with sadness at being separated from their kin. Few of those who had no pressing need remained in the city over the winter months and many of the rooms of the great house were closed up and shrouded in dust sheets, but there were some duties that had to be fulfilled for the house was the symbol of the Woodland Realm in Dale and therefore needed to be appropriately guarded. So a pair of elven guards stood watch on either side of the impressive carved door regardless of the day or weather, their armour was silver steel, their cloaks long and warm and their faces almost obscured by their helmets. They did not look or speak to each other, their attention being directed to the few who passed them and the sounds of the city around them.
At least that was the case for three of them; the fourth was also busy with private thoughts.
This would be the seventh midwinter feast since the battle of the five armies, as it was now recorded, and since she was exiled to the city of Dale. For exile it was even if not truly banishment and she had reluctantly accepted that she would probably never return to the forest she had called home for most of her life.
The people of the city spoke of the elapsed time as if it were long but for an elf it was little more than yesterday and for her at least there could never be too many duties to be attended to. During the days of the feast she would stand as many watches as they would allow her, even the silent guarding of the door was better than hours with nothing to do but replay the past. Her only wish at this time was that it wouldn't snow during her watch. It had been far earlier in the winter when battle had come to the Lonely mountain but it had been snowing even so and the sight of snow drifting down on dark streets brought back memories that still had the power to cut like a knife. Though she cursed herself for a fool the foggy shadows of falling snow in this this square, deserted as it often was at feast time, could take on the shapes and atmosphere of that ruined street where her life had stopped.
This feast she had even more reasons to avoid the festivities, for the King ensured that those who must stay in Dale did not feel themselves to be forgotten by their kin and along with the additional deliveries of food and wine there had been gifts and messages brought from home for most of her companions. As a result of these the chatter in the guard house was alive with the news that Legolas had returned home to Mirkwood, and not all of those who knew of the events of Dale were happy with that fact or willing to absolve Legolas of fault. Something that grieved her more with each passing season, for she could no longer hide from the knowledge that she had used the kings son and his care for her to serve her own purposes and with no thought for what it might mean for him. She knew that Thranduil chose those posted to Dale carefully, and most seemed to know nothing of the affair at least when they arrived. Those who might know, or who learned of it in the streets of Dale, were circumspect within her presence; but in unguarded moments, when they did not know she was there, comments were made that could stir the memories and with them the turmoil within her.
As she took her place at the gate for the early evening watch she had much to think about and most of it contained little joy, and, as the watch settled into the usual midwinter routine, she found herself wishing for more onerous duties to distract her thoughts. Her eyes flickered over those that passed but she, like her fellow guards, had no real expectation of anything more challenging than dissuading the odd drunken reveller from trying to sleep in their doorway. The people of Dale would not think to threaten the Elvenking on this or any other night, and not only because of the guards at his gate; for all of them knew that he had turned aside from his own concerns to help them when they needed it and asked no thanks. That he had fed their children and tended their sick when their only call on him was a distant friendship. They knew too that many elves had fallen in the battle, and stand of the Elvenking and his Elf Lords was a part of the stories of that day that every man, woman and child could recount. No, no one of Dale would seek to harm the King of the wood or his people and any of his enemies arriving here would do well to keep their hostility quiet if they wanted to survive. Something she reminded herself of daily.
From the first moment she took her place for the watch it was obvious that the weather was not on her side, for snow had started to fall early in the day, a soft shifting curtain of white that piled up on walls and steps and set the few passers by slipping and sliding on their way to whatever festivities they had planned. As she looked up at the blurred sky, the stars hidden behind smoky grey clouds, she had known it was going to be a long and painful watch. Whilst people drifted by in numbers she managed to keep focussed on the present; but as the cold intensified, and the number of people passing dwindled, the past began to sit heavily upon her sending her mind back along familiar grooves to that day. To the last time she had spoken to the king.
Four of them had come for her as darkness fell and as she waited by the gates of the ruined city. Waiting for the return of the men and elves from the funeral rites in the mountain, the rites she had not been allowed to attend. Each was a member of the king's personal guard and of the four two had been amongst the six who had stood at his back when she had drawn her arrow on him.
It was the way they had looked at her that ripped the first tear in her certainties and stirred the seeds of doubt at the rightness of her own actions, for their stance spoke of hostility and, far, far worse, their eyes showed only contempt. Yet they were elves she had known all her life, warriors she had looked up to, aspired to be like in time, and seeing such looks from them shook her, for she could not convince herself that their disgust was rooted in anything other than what they had seen and heard. If they who had seen it so clearly, heard her words and those of the king, judged her harshly then how would others?
She had felt a surge of fear as they grasped her arms wondering at their intentions as she realised that these two restraining her might have been her jailors, even her executioners, had he not moved so swiftly. But they offered her no further hurt and they did not bind her as she had first feared that they would, for she did not think she could have borne the shame of being hauled through the streets like a felon. Instead they retained a discrete grip upon her arms, causing her to match at their pace and go where they wished. As she walked beside them through the snow those first shoots of doubt started to grow.
They had not spoken to her as they walked but silently brought her to where the royal tent was pitched in the ruins of the square beside the Great hall, not a stones throw from the place where she now stood. Thranduil had not been there and the three Elf Lords had taken up a position at the tent flap while the Lady had accompanied her inside to where two maids were waiting
The Lady indicated that the tent flap should be closed and when that was done she turned towards her charge, her look was cold and her voice hard.
"Remove any weapons you may be carrying and lay them on that table."
She had complied with the order without any protest dropping her knife and sword onto the small table indicated.
"Remove your tunic and your boots." The command was curt.
Tauriel had felt her eyes widen in shock for she had not expected this. The Lady ignored her surprise if she saw it and indicated with a wave of her hand that the waiting maids should help her if needed. She had quickly shaken her head and proceeded to do as requested placing her discarded clothing on the table beside her weapons.
"Extend you arms away from you body," the Lady's voice was still chilly.|
She complied wordlessly and when she had done so the Lady spoke to the maids.
"Search her thoroughly, and be sure she has no concealed knives or arrow tips, nor phials that might contain poison or any such thing."
Her thoughts froze at the horror of it, not at the maids touch, for that was impersonal and gentle enough, but that she had reached a point where her own were treating her as an assassin, that they truly considered she might seek to end the life of the king.
"But is that not what you did?." Some little voice inside her head spoke up. "Why else did you point an arrow at him? Did you not intend to kill him if he turned away? If not then what was the purpose of it? What else was your intention, or was it just childish anger that he would not listen? If that were to be the case was he not justified in his actions?"
"You may resume your tunic and boots"
The Lady's voice cut through her wondering, and she obeyed in silence. The maids were dismissed with a wave of a hand and they gathered up her discarded weapons and hurried to leave as if just being in her presence was a threat.
"Stand to the side and wait. "
When the tent flap was again closed the Lady came and stood before her.
"Know this," she said in a low voice, "If the king dismisses me I will be outside and, should you give me any cause to fear your intent, I will not hesitate this time, there will be no further allowance made for your rank or history. I hold my oaths sacred and I will defend our Realm and our King as I have sworn to do, as you once swore to do. If that means I must pass judgement upon you I will do so. I do not wish to do this, to harm one of our own for any reason is abhorrent to me, as it should be to all elves. But you give me no choice for you have already shown clearly to all that you are willing to forgo duty and honour and to commit the worst of horrors. However much I may grieve it I will fulfil my duty to prevent it if you give me cause."
She had stared into the implacable face of the elf before her and shook her head, struggling to meet the cold eyes with some measure of calm.
"Inside or out matters not, you will not be given any cause to fear my intent my Lady." She said softly, "I will threaten no harm to the King."
For a moment the other had continued to stare at her and then she jerked her head in the direction of a chair in the corner of the tent
"Be seated and silent until the King returns."
Then the Lady took up a guarding stance beside the chair, bow in hand, and in silence they waited.
She had lost track of the passing time, outside the tent she could hear the sounds of the watches changing and the smell of cooking fires and food drifted on the cold air. But all was quiet, oddly so, and when a song did break out in any part of the elvish camp it was mournful and full of grief. It was as she waited for the king, hidden by a sheet of canvas from the sorrowing camp, that the full truth of the events, and her own actions, had come to her. Yet even then it had the quality of a dream. She could see his face as clearly as if he still stood before her, the grief and anger darkening the blue eyes to stormy grey, the twist of his mouth betraying how hard he was fighting for his control against the bitterness of her words and the surge of old memories of past loss. He had tried, she knew now that he had tried, to make her understand the impossibility of what she was wanted, of what she was demanding, but at the time she would not see it.
She heard his voice again.
'Are you willing to die for it?'
At that moment she had thought he meant to kill her and her disbelief had been immeasurable for she had never considered such a possibility, nor that she might not threaten him with impunity; it had never occurred to her that he might raise his hand to her in any way. She had been so confident that he would stay his hand, and those of his guard, that she had never thought past what she was demanding of him. The shattering of her bow had been the first axe blow to the pillars of her world and her expectations, the sudden understanding that she gone beyond excuses and that she was not above the consequences of her actions.
Yet as she sat in the royal tent the lamps flickering in the draft rising up from beneath the canvas, it occurred to her for the first time that that might not have been the meaning of his question at all, that he might have been asking her why she was waylaying him rather than risking herself to warn the dwarves. The harsh truth was that if that had indeed been the meaning of his words she had no answer to the question.
Nor had she found one since.
She had got no further for without warning the tent flap was raised and the subject of her speculations entered. She rose to her feet and stood with her head bowed as she heard him speak to the Lady beside her.
"You may leave us." His voice was quiet and without expression.
She heard the creak of armour as the Lady bowed and then swift footfalls as she crossed the small space and the rustle of the tent flap falling closed.
For a moment there was silence and then he spoke again.
"Tauriel," there seemed to be a faint sigh in his voice, the hint of the winter winds of regret beyond the walls of his composure. Regret for what she could not guess.
"My Lord," she had responded not raising her head.
"Look at me." His voice was soft but it was clearly a command.
She remembered so very well how her throat had tightened, and how hard it had been to both swallow and breathe as she looked up at him, not sure what she hoped for, or what she feared. Adrift as she had never been, even when she had been all alone, that loneliness and vulnerability that he had saved her from.
He was in armour and with the diadem upon his brow, his face still shadowed with grief. Never had he seemed so majestic or so terrifying. Yet looking back she could not say why that was so, for there had been no anger in his face or voice and allowing for the grief his expression had been kind. He turned and seated himself in his craved chair leaning his head back against the wood with that slight tilt that was so characteristic of his pose when he was thinking. It came to her suddenly that she was looking at the King of the Wood, and that it had been some time since she had done so. In that moment too she knew that she had lost something for ever and that whenever she saw him again, if she did, it would always be the King that she would see.
As for Legolas, she doubted that she would ever be allowed to be in his company again.
"My Lord, "she had begun, "I know that I cannot...", but broke off as he signalled her to be silent.
"Some things are better not spoken of," he said quietly, "at least not until the cooling winds of time have blown across them," he shot her a warning look, "and some things may not be safe to speak of however many centuries have passed."
He looked at her in silence for a moment and a new sadness seemed to shadow the blue of his eyes as he sighed again.
"You must know that you cannot return to Mirkwood," he said softly.
A spark of anger glowed within her at the words and she responded with a hint of her previous defiance.
"I know that you have banished me my Lord."
He smiled sadly.
"Your actions were your own Tauriel, none forced them or demanded them of you. What would you have expected of me had one of your guard done the same a season ago? I gave Legolas leave to find you, to explain to you the need and give you the chance to return home with honour. You chose not to."
"No more did your son my Lord." The words slid out from somewhere like a concealed blade she had not been aware of carrying.
His expression remained calm and still but at her words his eyes changed taking on the look of sapphire lit by winter starlight, the fire within them cold and distant.
"No he did not," his voice was still low and gentle, "and we are both well aware of why that was. I had warned you to be careful and kind in your dealings with him, a request you ignored when it did not suit you. But we will speak no more of that, Legolas will not return home with me, and much though I hope his absence will be short I fear he will find it hard to make peace with himself." He sighed, "As for the relative nature of your offences, I had given him leave to find you; I gave you no leave to desert your post. He left with only concern for you in his heart whilst you left with no concern for your people and with bitterness and hatred in yours."
She had felt the despair growing within her as he spoke and now she could not hold back her protest.
"My Lord, that was not so!"
Her words brought a faint smile to his lips, the first she had seen since that day when he had spoken of his son's regard for her
"Was it not? Then why did you leave? You have made it clear enough that you consider my life to be worthless", for a moment there was a hint of something she could not define in his face but it faded as he continued, "but did you judge all of your kin, your comrades and those who called you friend to be similarly without value? Of so little account that you would desert them in such a manner? Or did you think that love was a justification for anything no matter how dishonest and cruel?"
The smile faded and he drew a deep breath looking at her with an expression that she could not read.
"Did I fail you so badly, teach you so little, that you could believe that?"
She raised her chin in defiance feeling her anger push away her fear for a moment; she would not let him belittle the value of what she had done.
"I believed that he was dying and that you did not care or wish to help! Was that so great a sin?"
He stared back at her with no sign of remorse or guilt.
"You think things so simple? Or that such a love the only thing to be considered," now there was a hint of exasperation in his tone." If so then I have truly failed you. We all have many loyalties and responsibilities Tauriel, and love does not change that. Mine are to my Realm, those who name me their King and to those I might need to thrust into the path of danger, to be sure that I do not do so on a whim or at the behest of one contrary to the needs of all. As a captain in the guard your duty was to those you led and you should have known that."
She lowered her eyes before his anger and spoke softly still trying to make him understand the rightness of her course.
"Yes, my Lord. But I meant no insult to our people or those I served with, I acted on the impulse of my heart I confess it, in that I may have been careless of my duty I admit and accept your right to punish me as you will. But I cannot regret my actions for I loved him and I believe that he loved me."
She risked raising her eyes to meet his again and was taken aback by the blaze of anger there. She watched warily as he rose from the chair and crossed the space between them to stand over her. It was a surprise how far she had to look up to see his face and it came to her that it had been a long while since he had stood over her in this way, if indeed he ever had. As he stared down at her his eyes narrowed and his voice became as harsh as she had ever heard it.
"You gave no thought to to anything but your own wishes. Not even to the dwarf. Loved you? He was not old enough to have a beard, how then did he love you?"
He turned away suddenly, crossing to the table beside the brazier and reaching for the flagon of wine, pouring half a cup he swallowed it in a single gulp as if he needed to do something to contain his anger. Then he slowly refilled the cup, continuing as he did so and still without looking at her.
"I took little notice of his body upon Ravenhill, being more concerned with those closer to me. Nor did I understand Dain's accusation of entrapment and bewitching, only thinking them more provocative and foolish nonsense aimed at angering me, what else could it be for who ever heard of a dwarf so entrapped? But then today I saw him laid out in death and I understood a little more, for only a very young dwarf is without a beard. The scanty nature of his could only mean that he was some way from being full grown, far too young to be amongst Oakenshield's company by rights; far too young to know the reality of love."
He turned towards her again.
"All know of the importance of a dwarfs beard so he would not have removed it by choice. Did you not think it strange?"
She had closed her eyes against the well of sorrow his words had opened up within her and her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
"No, my Lord. I truly did not think of it."
Not even when he had spoken of his mother's words had she thought of it. As the image of him as he lay upon the snow of Ravenhill came back to her she knew that she should have done so and wondered that she had not..
The king's voice softened again and the sadness had returned to his face as he looked at her..
"No, I do not think you did." he said after a moment.
Thranduil resumed his seat.
"Dain made some mention of a token from the dwarf's mother. Do you have it?"
"Yes my Lord," she had whispered.
He held out his hand.
"Give it to me, for the sake of all it must be returned."
She looked at him again with entreaty in her eyes.
"May I not keep it? It is all I have to remind me of why I have lost everything."
The king looked at her with an odd expression on his face.
"Have you lost more than she?"
She shook her head at that and pulled the token from her pocket and placed it on the table. He looked at her with regret and his voice was kind.
"Do not think I am being deliberately cruel, or that I wish to hurt you, but you must understand that there are more things at stake in this than a carved stone, your life amongst them."
Fear surged and with it a new sense of hopelessness.
"My life, my Lord?"
He nodded.
"Yes, do not be in any doubt of the gravity of the situation. There are many ways to view the same event Tauriel.."
He gave her a small smile and a hard look.
" No doubt you see his attempts to save you on Ravenhill as proof of his love, a noble thing, and I am sure that there are some who would agree with you, but that is not the only view of his actions that might be taken. Dain does not view it that way, far from it. He sees the same action as his kin's dishonour. A betrayal in fact. The act of abandoning his king and his kin, an act that some might see as being a factor in Thorin's death; for had he been at his Uncle's side he might have preserved his life ."
He took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair.
"Dain would have the world believe that Thorin's nephews, for so it seems they were, died in the defence of their uncle and king, to have it whispered by either his friends or his enemies that one of the line of Durin left the side of that king to defend an elf is not to his liking. Nor can I entirely blame him for that, for he will face many difficulties in taking the role of King under the Mountain not least from amongst his own. "
He looked down into his glass his face losing all expression.
"Your existence might be seen to threaten that view of events, and he might see it as in his interests if that existence were to end..We must persuade him that there will no opposition to his version of the event."
He watched her for a moment, noting the tears in her eyes and the sorrow in her face with a sigh. When he spoke again his voice was softer still.
"The token will be returned to his mother and she will hear how her sons died to defend their uncle against the evil they have fought in so many stories and songs. He will pass in dwarfish legend with his uncle and let us hope that will be of comfort to her. For Dain that will mean there is no need for more claims of entrapment and bewitching and so a form of peace can exist between elf and dwarf, at least at a distance. While that story remains unchallenged he will have no reason to move against you, and though he would far rather I had put you to death as a traitor he will make no remark if I do not. Other than to comment on my cowardice no doubt. But then he is nearly as mad as his cousin so little better could be expected."
The king raised his voice and called for the guard, the Lady entered quickly a knife already in her hand. She relaxed slightly on seeing the kings ease and stood patiently before him ignoring the other occupant of the tent. Thranduil indicated the stone token sitting on the table.
"Take that and get a copy made, it need not be exact but have it made as closely as you can. I want it ready by dawn and make sure that none other than you and the craftsman know of it."
There was no hint of surprise on the Lady's face as she took the stone without a glance.
"Very well my Lord, you would have me bring it to you?"
He seemed to think about that for a moment then he nodded.
"Yes, and make sure you do not confuse the two, I must be sure which is original and which the copy."
She nodded without further comment and left, as she did do a swirl of snow flakes blew in leaving a small trail of icy crystals across the rug. Tauriel had watched them as they dissolved feeling as if they represented all that she had ever known and loved.
When the Lady was gone the king looked towards her a hint of understanding in his face .
"A copy may remind you as well as the original, but a mother's eye will know the difference. Make sure it is well hidden however, keep it to yourself alone.."
The snow on the rug was all but melted when she looked at her king with despair, her voice a dull whisper no longer caring what his next words would be.
"What then is to be my fate my Lord? Live or die, and if I live where would you have me do it? Or will you send me away as banished and take no more note of my fate."
A quiver of something that looked to be annoyance flitted across his face but it was quickly concealed behind the regal mask.
"Have I not told you? You cannot return to our realm, for your own sake and that of others, but I will not abandon you to wander without protection. You will stay here in Dale. I have agreed to assist the men of the Lake and the City in their rebuilding, as a part of this I will provide skilled craftsmen and healers while they need them. Those elves will need somewhere to live and guards to provide for their assistance and security. I have discussed this with Bard, who will take the role of Lord of Dale at the people's wish, and he has agreed that for this purpose I will establish an elvish garrison in the City. You will join that garrison, for the moment at least. I will hold the same discussions with the master of the Lake on my way back to Mirkwood. "
He looked down at the seal ring upon his finger and frowned slightly.
"It is not possible for you retain your rank given what has gone before, so you must accept the rank of guard, but I will not prohibit your progression and in time you may again become a captain of the guard in Dale. Though it is not likely to be an easy hill for you to climb."
"As My Lord wishes," she said quietly.
He looked across at her and sighed.
"But do not think this puts you beyond all danger. It will be enough for the moment for there are many other things to occupy Dains' mind. Later, who can say, but he knows very little about you. The other dwarves could enlighten them should they chose but I think that they will not choose to do so for reasons of their own. However you would be wise to be cautious all the same. Stay within the garrison as far as possible and do not wander beyond the main thoroughfares without company. I do not wish to make things more difficulty for Bard and in the further reaches of the city he may find it hard to assure your safety. But be careful never to speak of the events on Ravenhill or even to suggest that you were there "
For a moment she wondered if safety was what she wanted but it seemed that it was all decided.
"And now?" she asked.
The king rose and turned away from her, returning to the wine jug to refill a glass that was barely touched.
"Now? For tonight you will remain close to this tent and tomorrow you will report to the garrison commander, he is expecting you."
She swallowed as a sense of helpless loss overwhelmed her.
"My Lord, there are other things we need to speak of, if you will hear me."
He raised his hand to silence her.
"I think we have said all that needs to be said, unless you wish your future to be ordered differently, but I would advise you against it. This is the best that I can do for you, for the moment at least. In time other options may present themselves but for the present the choices are slim. If you wish to leave then I will provide you with provisions, weapons and a horse, but once you depart the lands between here and the forest there will be nothing that I can do for you, for you will have chosen to be banished with all that will mean. You have my word that I will send none after you, or seek your end, but the life you would be choosing would be hard indeed and the choice would do nothing to ease your grief or regret. Is Dale not a better choice?"
There had been nothing left to say for it was clear that he was not going to allow any discussion of their confrontation, and the hard truth was that she knew there was little that she could say if he did. She cast him one last look, but he remained turned away from her, staring down into the red depths of the glass in his hand. She felt a sinking of her spirit for it was clear that he had set a barrier between them and that the few feet that separated them may as well have been the world. From this moment forward that distance would never change. He was her king and she would serve him but she doubted they would ever speak again.
She bowed deeply towards him.
"My Liege, it shall be as you consider best. I will serve as best I can where you command."
Then she had slipped out of the tent to join the guards beside the fire, the snow had hidden her tears as it had done every midwinter since.
Now, seven midwinters later, standing at the gate and watching the passers-by the events of that time seemed but a dream. She could feel the weight of the token in her pocket, it had been delivered to her the day after Thranduil had commanded the copy and she kept his words in mind and carried it all times. She barely looked at now, and the memories it held were not as she had expected that they would be that day, for though she could recall very detail lof that interview with the king she found it hard to summon up the voice of the dwarf that had given it to her or to recapture her feelings as he had placed it into her hand.
The snow continued to drift down lazily and as she stared into the darkness sshe wondered how the Elvenking would celebrate the festival, would he rejoice in his son's return or fear for his safety, wondering if an assassin hid within the shadows. What of Legolas would he have found peace, he would find forgiveness with his father she was sure of that, where would her life have taken her if she accepted that when it was offered?
Another passer-by called out a greeting and she dipped her head in reply. If Legolas was back in Mirkwood would he come to find her, would his father permit that? Standing in the midwinter snow with the shadows of the past drifting all around her she realised that she hoped not.
