A/N sorry its a long one

Firstly to every one who opens this, I hope you are well and safe and have all that you need. I hope you continue to be so.

This is the start of the third part of what is proving to be something of an epic; I am well past 'novel length' now. I never intended it to be this long but once my brain starts running new threads I tend to get carried away. I should explain that these threads are not 'plot bunnies', those I will take outside the scope of this story when I get time (I have several waiting to be advanced).The threads are all parts of the same story, sub arcs within it if you will, but part of the same scenario, and so it grows.

At some point I will get around to splitting out the previous two parts so that anyone who hasn't read them, and who might consider doing so but can't face the marathon, could do so in stages. But this seemed a good point to provide an overview for those who might want to give it a look but dosen't know what's happened so far and is scared off by the word count.

It is in many ways a cross over between the 'real Middle Earth', i.e. canon, and PJs cinematic fanfic and is an exercise in what I call 'writing back'. In this case taking the absurd characterisations, deficient and hole ridden plot lines and weak and inconsistent arcs of the screen fanfic and working the characters back to who they actually are; whilst also trying to make some sense of a screen play that doesn't hang together. An exercise in problem solving, psychological evaluation, situational analysis, jigsaws and creative writing all rolled into one, and very enjoyable to do. I'm not the one to decide if its fun to read.

In many ways it's a PJ based AU to start (like the cinematic product) but should end up close to Middle Earth reality. As Tolkein indicates that after the BotFA the Orc armies were destroyed, and as Sauron has fled Dol Guldar, its quite light on 'action'.

So, the story so far.

The story begins in winter seven years after the end of the BoFA with Legolas returning home having, of course, failed to find 'Strider'. He is still racked with guilt and shame for his actions at the time of the battle. In the years of his absence he has come to realise just how bizarre his actions were and is much concerned with understanding how he came to behave in such a strange and unbecoming manner. Though both he and his father would like to put the past behind them they know that isn't so easy to do, particularly when so many questions remain to be answered for both of them. Doubts that even Gandalf shares.

As winter progresses towards spring he seeks to take up the patterns of his life in Greenwood and to re-build his relationship with his father and his people, both of whom he realises he has failed badly. But peace and contentment doesn't come easily, particularly as he learns things he didn't know about others perception of himself and Tauriel. Now, as spring gives way to summer, Legolas is beginning to make peace with himself but it is fragile and uncertain, much to his fathers regret.

Thranduil remains convinced that the battle with Sauron isn't over and is making preparations for the war he feels is coming. At the same time he and his people are trying to make the most of the current peace even though he doesn't believe it will last for long, and the first signs of unease in the east have already come to his notice. His concerns regarding Tauriels' behaviour still lingers.

As spring blossoms Elrond comes to visit for the first time in an age, bringing with him his ward, Estel who is somewhat over awed by Thranduil and his son. Elrond comes with a request to make of Thranduil, and a sense of considerable guilt. He discloses his deep concerns about the future.

As this part of the saga starts Legolas prepares to face his ghosts and another brush with the painful past for he must visit Dale, the site of his worst mistakes and betrayals, with his father to honour the dead of the battle. Now meet the cause of those actions for the first time since returning home and with a somewhat different view of events than at the time of his leaving.

Tauriel (yes she's here) having committed treason and threatened kinslaying cannot return to the forest, but Thranduil has shown as much mercy as Elven law permits and she is confined to the elvish garrison at Dale. Here she serves as a guard in the Elvenkings house and looks after visitors from Greenwood who come to the city on the kings business.

Bard will soon be crowned King of Dale and Dain remains King under the Mountain (Thorin is most certainty dead).

As always Arda and her familiar occupants, along with pretty much anything else of worth, belongs to Tolkien; for the rest it belongs to whosoever the law says. All that's mine is the speculation and the occasional minor OC here and there.

BTW, I don't write any elvish. Unlike Jackson I take the view that its illogical to insert sudden elvish into dialogue between elves when the speakers are likely to be conversing in that language anyway. Therefore I assume that the protagonists consistently speak the appropriate language which the writer has translated for the reader.

The coming of summer

Dale was a city rising anew from the ashes left by a dragon. Though a few of the largest civic buildings were now nearly restored few, if any, of the people who thronged the streets would live long enough to see the renewal completed.

In the square outside the Court and Council House a garden had been laid out, grass and formal hedges dotted with sweet smelling flowers and herbs surrounding a structure that was currently shrouded in canvas and wood. Here, at the point where the tide of the battle for Dale had turned, was the memorial to those who had died in that battle and on the lands around the lonely mountain. Men, Elves and Dwarfs were honoured here on what had been named, by common consent, the Battle Stone.

No one of the town had seen it as yet, except for the masons creating it, for it was watched over by soldiers from Bards' own guard, Elves from the King of the Woodland Realm garrison and dwarfs from Dains' personal guard. If they had ever looked upon what they guarded they had never spoken of it to anyone in the city. Bard knew what lay behind the screens of course, as did Thranduil and Dain, but for the people of Dale it was a source of constant curiosity and gossip.

But the speculations that would come to an end in five days time when the Lords and Commanders of the armies of men, elves and dwarfs that had opposed the two armies of evil would attend a ceremony to unveil it. A celebration the whole of Dale was intending to enjoy in their preferred manner, for a three day holiday had been granted by Bard the soon to be king. Every ale house had made sure the cellars were packed with barrels and that the barrels were all full, many meats and cheeses had been ordered from the farms and merchants, pickles and chutneys had been pulled from the storerooms, and flour and fats laid ready for the pastry required for the many pies and puddings they expected to serve in the days of the celebrations. As the streets warmed in the strengthening sun people pulled their best clothes from the linen presses and other stores to be brushed and shaken, and newly washed shifts and hose fluttered on the numerous washing lines strung across gardens and streets.

In one of the large and newly elegant squares close to the Court house preparations were also in hand at the Elvenkings' House, for the King was expected to arrive before the following sunrise. His apartments had been prepared and his preferred foods brought in, whilst the soldiers of the garrison had spent some considerable time on burnishing their weapons and cleaning their armour and uniforms. In the stables the grooms had scrubbed every stall and loose box ready for the kings' mounts and those of his guard, and they had brought in bales of sweet smelling hay and burnished the coats of every horse and pony already in their trust.

Though the King had visited briefly on a number of occasions since the battle this would be only his second formal visit since the house had been opened six summers before, and on this occasion he would soon be joined by his son. Everyone in the garrison and the household was determined that there would be no cause for complaint or disappointment, either by the king or those he entertained.

An advance party of the Royal Guard and the kings' equerry had arrived the previous evening and they had spent the morning poring over plans for the king's security during the ten days of his visit, and for the entertaining that would form a part of it. On this occasion there would be none of the trade discussions that had taken up most of his previous visits, but this time there would be many social events in which their king would be both guest and host. All this when the city would be teeming with excited, and probably drunken, people; both men and dwarfs.

It was not something to be undertaken lightly, and all were aware of it and the dangers the situation carried. Thranduil was respected by the men of Dale and the Lake and they would wish him no harm but in such crowds an assassin could hide, and they knew from past experience that there were those in the further east who would wish to see the long headed king of the wood gone if it could be managed. So with both the king and his son in residence nothing was being left to chance.

Then there were other, lesser concerns, not least the number of dwarfs likely to be present, and not all of them resident within the mountain. Dains own people would be circumspect, at least when sober, but amongst those newly arrived to the mountain there might well be some openly hostile to the king. Some who would be willing, even pleased, to give offence. Means of keeping them at a distance had to be found without seeming to criticise Bards ability to protect his noble guest, particularly when the king was outside his house.

His own Lords would accompany him wherever he went of course, and after an age as a king Thranduil was very good at not hearing things he thought it better not to hear. But as Dain had shown before the mountains there were times when dwarfish discourtesy could amount to crude and childish insult of a kind that could not be ignored. Bard would be mortified if the Elvenking was exposed to such conduct during this visit. So every journey, visit and excursion was being planned like a campaign against the Dark Lord.

In the guard quarters Tauriel watched the preparations with a growing unease, for the thought of standing in the presence of the King again stirred memories and regrets that were still painful. Indeed more painful since the visit of the Wizard and the difficult conversation between them.

She had not spoken to the king since he had informed her of her probable fate before he had left Dale after the battle. But that felt as if had been but a day before and in her minds eye she could still see his face, grave and weary, and hear the low thrum of his voice as he told her she could not return with the forest host. Something that she had not been expecting, sure that forgiveness would follow on the death of Thorin and his nephews. Particularly given Dains' anger towards her, something else she had not expected. Now the king was to come here, his son too, and this time there was no Battle Stone for her to be sent to guard.

Not that it mattered, Battle Stone or not she was sure that any contact between her and the king, or the prince, would be avoided where it could be managed; and she would never be in their presence without other members of the guard. On his previous visits she had never been called to his presence, this time would be no different.

Yet her unease grew as the time of his arrival came closer. His few other visits had been short and concerned only in dealing with elvish business and dining with Bard, but this visit would be longer and both formal and ceremonious. This time there would be numerous banquets and dances and other arranged events, and for much of the time the king and his son would be surrounded by officials and other visiting dignitaries. The time he spent within his own house would also be taken up with entertaining and business and he would rarely be alone, such hours as he had to dispose of he would no doubt spend with his son. No, the chance of him summoning her was vanishingly small, and should he pass her in the hall it would probably be when he was deep in conversation with another.

She sighed, there would be no reason for him to even acknowledge her continued presence in his house and she doubted that he wished to. The recollection of Mithrandir's visit still burned in her mind, for the wizards' words had made it clear to her that the king did not trust her and was unlikely to do so ever again. Indeed their conversation suggested that the kings view of her was worse than simple distrust, though she still could not accept that he had just cause for that. But whatever the truth might be she was sure that he would maintain a considerable distance between them, even if they found themselves in the same room,

But she would be in the same house, walking the same corridors, using the same practice fields and stables and that thought alone filled her with trepidation. The kings' presence, his magic, his light, would fill the house; his voice would echo through the rooms and his long shadow would flicker on the walls in the candlelight. When he was here the feeling of the house changed, it was as if he brought the forest with him and the rooms around them became brighter and warmer whatever the day outside was like. Most of the others stationed here welcomed it but for her it brought a feeling of being trapped like a fly in amber, prevented from protesting or removing herself from his influence but unable to rest whilst he was here.

Then there was Legolas, ah Legolas. He might not be so circumspect as his father, and if she were honest there was some part of her that greatly wished he would not be. Tauriel sighed again and turned her eyes towards the window, the casement open a little to allow in the late spring breeze, and stared towards the sky. She wished to speak with him so very much, but not within this house, not anywhere where his fathers' presence could be felt.

That Legolas had returned home she viewed with conflicted feelings, one part of her glad that he had and yet another small part angry and bitter at his doing so. He had left whilst she had cried for the death of her love, he had taken no leave of her, instead turning his back on her and her grief, and he had sent her not a word, no enquiry of how she fared, since that time. Then when he returned it was not to Dale, but to his fathers' Halls.

'Not that I wish him to partake of my banishment', she told herself, but that he returned to the Palace so easily, and with no apparent distance between him and his father, rankled in some indefinable way. Had he taken up residence in Imladris or Lothlorien she could have consoled herself with the thought that his belief in her and the rightness of their actions at that time continued. She could be sure of his estrangement from his father and of his enduring sympathy for her. But as it was she was no longer certain of his view of her, or of their actions on that day, and whilst this did not change her desire to talk to him at the first opportunity it did make her unsure of how best to approach him.

Tauriel frowned as she thought of it, staring with unseeing eyes at a line of carts entering the rear gate. Perhaps when she had seen him in the presence of his father, had a chance to gauge how matters stood between them, it might be easier to judge, but that left her little time to decide. Even though the Orc armies had been destroyed, and the roads and mountains were far less dangerous than before the battle, the two would not travel together. Word amongst the garrison was that the King would arrive first and that the Prince would not leave the forest until he received word that his father had arrived safely; the same would be true for their departure. So there would be no more than five or six days with them both resident, and much of that time they would be elsewhere, and so the opportunities to be in both their presence would be small.

If she was granted any chance to be in their company at all.

She turned away and went to her chest, unlocking it and pulling out the letter she had received from Legolas in early spring, his reply to her first approach to him. A letter she could have recited from memory so often had she read it. She let her eyes run over the familiar script with a sigh, if only he had agreed to her request to meet she would had been spared this uncertainty. Had they met before now she would not have to stand amongst the guard not knowing if he might pass her as if she was not there, or if he would stop and speak to her.

There was a short rap on the door and she thrust the letter into the chest and called for the visitor to enter. Helkir, the captain of the day watch, stood on the threshold his expression closed and guarded. He spoke softly.
"Tauriel, we have word that the king has made good time and that he arrives just before sundown. I would have you be the letter bearer of his arrival."
He crossed the threshold and held out a folded sheet of parchment sealed with the formal mark of the Woodland Realm.
"Take this and once the king safely enters the courtyard deliver it to the master of the messengers at the west gate. There is a bird already waiting to carry it to the forest edge. But you must not leave until the king is safely within our walls. Is that understood?"

She inclined her head lowering her eyes so that her disappointment would not be seen, for some spark of hope that she would be part of the welcoming guard had apparently persisted in her heart, faint though it might have been.
"It is. I will ensure that it goes swiftly and safely." She replied calmly.
Helkir watched her fingers close around the message with a slight frown.
"It must," he said firmly, "for Legolas will not leave the shelter of the trees until this message is received by his company and he is needed here not three sunrises hence if he is to fulfil his allotted duties. The King would not be pleased if any suggestion of disrespect to Bard was to occur at this time, however unintended."
She met his eyes with a steady look.
"I understand my Lord, nothing of my doing will delay the passage of this message."

Helkir returned her look for a moment as if seeking for something in her expression, and then he turned back towards the door.
"Good. It is probably best you go on foot, for the streets are already crowded and it will be slow passage on horseback. You will be expected."
She inclined her head again in acceptance."Very well."
The captain gave her one more searching look then he turned and left.

For a moment she stood and stared at the paper. She could hardly complain, it was a responsible task and one that must be done, and yet she could not repress the feeling of anger, the suspicion that she was being shuttled out of the way to spare the kings feelings with no thought for hers. But it could not be changed. With a sigh she laid the paper on the top of her chest and began to pull on her armour, she would take no risk of being caught unready.

The forest was wearing its best early summer green, still new and fresh but a shade or two deeper than the green of early spring. The press of winter water had moved on and the rivers and streams no longer chewed at the tops of their banks or fought the stream bed to rejoin the River Running. Fish could be seen gliding in these more sedate waters and the sun sparkled on the surface like white gems, the light parting into all the colours of the rainbow where the waters danced amongst the stones.

Legolas drew to a halt and let his horse drop his head to crop the lush grass that rippled between the trees here on the far edge of the forest. Around him his guard also drew to a halt and settled themselves to wait for the king's message.

In the distance Legolas could see the sunlight spark on the river and the lake whilst overhead the skylarks sang in untrammelled joy at the glory of the day. Even so he could feel ghosts hovering around him, for this was the route they had taken to Dale before the battle and then as now this was the point at which they had left the forest. He looked north for a moment, frowning at the dark shadow of the lonely mountain before he pushed the thought of dwarfs from his mind and turned his eyes once more towards the horizon. There the city of Dale was rising in newly cut stone from the ashes and rubble left by the dragon Smaug.

He remembered the days before the dragons coming, the time when Thorins' grandfather had ruled within the mountain. Then he could have sat here and caught the sound of the city's bells on the wind, bells that had been silent for more than five generations of men, bells that would soon ring again when the crown was placed upon Bard's head.

He smiled to himself, only another seven sunsets until that day, until the ruin was deemed to be Dale reborn with its king and his line restored. Legolas wondered how Bard felt about that, he might be descended from kings but it was not a fate he had anticipated, nor a station he had been raised to. His father seemed to think the man would do well, and from what little he had seen of him Legolas agreed, but he doubted that his children would find it easy. He frowned as he corrected himself, had found it so easy, for the time since the battle was far longer in the minds of men than for an elf.

The frown deepened and he sighed, at least for most elves. For one within the City walls that time might have seemed much longer, just as it did for him. With an impatient shake of his head he pushed the thought away, the time to face the last shadows of those days was coming close but it was not yet here. With another sigh he turned his mind back to the present.

Between the forest and the river the marshes shone in brilliant and seductive green, but the paths across were once again marked and a safe way to the firm land that let to Dale could now be found with ease. The scouts of the Woodland Realm had spent much of the last three turns of the moon spying out that path and marking it in preparation for their Kings journey from his Realm to Dale. The Council had done their best to persuade Thranduil to travel by river rather than risk the road but they had failed; the number of rafts required would be more than they had repaired since the winters storms he argued, the rafts they had were not suitable for a state visit he said. Nor did he wish to disrupt the business of the river at a time when traffic was growing he said, the dwarfs and lake men complained enough about the pressure of barges waiting to travel the narrower stages he reminded them. The Council argued that it would be safer but the king would not be persuaded, and in the end he had his way.

Legolas suspected that the truth was that his father would have to go via Long Lake if he used the river and he had no desire to spend time in Laketown, which would be unavoidable if he was not to be seen to slight the Master and the Lake men. Not that Thranduil had any cause to dislike the current Lake Master but Elrond's visit had absorbed much time at point of the year when there was a great deal to be done, as Legolas had seen demonstrated of late. There had been little enough time between returning home and setting out on this visit as it was.

Fifteen sunrises had come since those who had travelled with Elrond had returned to the Kings Halls and Legolas had seen little of his father in that time. The Realm might not have ground to a halt without its king but it had apparently built up a fair sized mound of matters that only he could banish. The king had simply sighed when he saw the stack of petitions and complaints waiting for him and resigned himself to several days with little leisure.

Legolas had smiled his sympathy but exasperation had seeped into his voice when commented upon it.
"We have been gone but two phases of the moon, how can there be so much?"
Thranduil had shrugged.
"It is the end of spring, the last of those who have wintered at the stronghold have now returned to their homesteads. Now the depredations of winter need to be made good and the arguments about responsibility and ownership begin."
"Even so are our people really so argumentative?"
The king had given him a wry smile.
"Would that it was only our own people, elves are generally fair minded and generous where their kin are concerned. But is not just elves I must deal with, do not forget that the petitioners include men and dwarfs too. The woodsmen who live within the forest may be simple folk but they can be argumentative, particularly where tithes are concerned. Then there is the growth of the traffic on the river at this time of the year which always generates disputes and other questions; and as Dale and Erbor rebuild so the desire for passage increases."

His smile widened.
" While men and dwarfs are happy enough to make use of the protection we provide, and have done for many centuries, and with our stewardship of the river and its banks, they are less happy about the restrictions we place on their activities within our lands. Nor do they welcome the tolls."
Legolas had shaken his head at the weary words.
"Well I cannot deny the truth of that, for it was so before the battle. I well recall the constant carping of the dwarfs in the days before the dragon came. I would imagine it is little different with Dain and that the dwarfs in particular find it irksome."
The king inclined his head.
"Indeed they do, they argue every point even when the point has been proven, though it is true Dain is being careful not to seen as unreasonable. For the moment at least. This far his rule has been more gentle than that of Thorins' grandfather, for he is a dwarf who has seen much battle and loss and that knowing tempers his love of gold. Though it does nothing to lessen his bombast and carping, or so it seems from some of his missives. Some are far from…regal."

Legolas laughed.
"Perhaps it is not Dain who frames them, but one of the company of Oakenshield who still persist in resenting their incarceration in your Halls, despite all the evidence of the need they encountered upon the plain. They have settled in Erebor have they not?"
The king nodded.
"They have and there may be some truth in your suggestion, for all of Oakenshields gold fever, and the harm and loss he brought to so many, they remain attached to his memory, or so I have heard. I do not doubt that they seek to blame me for what transpired as a result of their ill judged actions, not to do so would require that they accept the consequences of their actions and I doubt they have the desire to do that."

He sighed again and rubbed his forehead.
"But men are no less troublesome. The men of the lake also feel aggrieved, for they see any passage granted to those of Dale, or the dwarfs, as being to their disadvantage. Which may be true in some cases, yet only so many barges can be accommodated and each settlement must be served if there is to be prosperity and avoidance of strife. So I must deal with everything that is outstanding before we travel to Dale, I would not give Dain any reason, however slight, to behave in a manner that might cause discomfort for Bard."
The king smiled.
" He has learned much I'll grant but essentially he is who he was before the dragon woke, and managing a rampaging dwarf in a city full of dignitaries in the last days before he is crowned King might stretch that learning to its limits."
Legolas had returned the smile before he turned towards the door.
"Indeed it might, and Bard is a good man and I would not see him embarrassed in his own city."

So he had left his father to work his way through the stack of parchments and had spent the next days either at his own duties or at the butts peppering the targets with arrows.

The king had left for Dale at dawn three days before, leaving his son to wait for news of his safe arrival before departing the forest, for even in times of such peace they could not travel together. Legolas had thought to leave first, to ensure the way was safe for his father, but somehow that was not what had happened. The king had announced he would travel first and nothing could change his mind. He wanted some words with Bard before the other guests arrived he said, and that was probably the case, yet Legolas was sure that he had other reasons, more personal reasons, and he felt a surge of sorrow at the realisation.

He turned his eyes to watch a hawk hovering above the grasses between the trees and the river and sighed; he could not deny that the coming visit to Dale caused him misgivings, though he would never burden his father with that truth. Yet these ghosts must be faced and if it were now or an age away the pain would be little different, and of all ways in which they might meet perhaps this was the best.

Returning for the first time to the place where he had erred in such a manner could never be without some renewed regret, this he knew and accepted, but the probability of meeting Tauriel once again brought a sense of sorrow that went beyond that. For most of his time there he would be surrounded by others and with many things to think on, but he knew that he must grant her a more private meeting. He had refused her once with the promise they could meet when he came to Dale and he must honour that, but he could not banish the feeling of sadness whenever he thought of it.

Nor could he banish the memory of Mithrandirs' letter, of the wizard's talk of the shadow within her and the warnings to his father to take care when she was near to him. He still did not know what to make of that, nor had Mithrandir it seemed, but Legolas knew that he would do all in his power to make sure that shadow, whatever it was, did not reach out to threaten his father this time.

As he watched the hawk rise and wheel towards the horizon his mind drifted back to his last memory of her, crouched in the snow, weeping for a dwarf she had barely known and with no thought for the elf who had risked so much for her. An elf she had known all her life, a comrade who had stood beside her in great danger, one she had persuaded into deserting all he cared for; and one she had set aside without a sliver of guilt. He wondered if she had thought on that at all in the time since that blood stained winters day, and how she viewed the matter now.

He sighed, it seemed unlikely that it had changed; Mithrandir said her regret, though real, had shallow roots, as changeable as a spring wind and that it seemed to shatter and scatter like falling leaves on that wind when she was pressed upon it. That her regret at what had passed was somehow hollow and empty. How then would she answer him when faced with his regret that was both substantial and enduring? He avoided wondering why it should matter to him.

With another sigh he pushed the thought away, for there would be no answer on that before he reached his fathers house. He slid from his horse releasing it to graze happily beneath the trees as he settled himself down beside his archers to wait for the news that would allow them to travel on.

xxx

The fourth horn after noon had barely sounded when the soldiers on the walls first saw the approaching party. At this distance mortal eyes could not make out the nature of the banners the outriders carried but the size of the party, and the direction of their approach, told them who it was and the word of the Elvenkings' arrival was sent to Bard.

The fifth horn after noon had passed and the sky was showing the first blush of approaching sunset when Tauriel heard the trumpets at the western City gate, a fanfare that told of her kings' arrival. She hurried up the nearest watch tower to join the guard in watching Thranduil's company make slow progress through the streets.

As always the people of the town found the Elvenking and his entourage a source of wonder and amazement; and men, women and children had fpund reason to throng the streets to watch his progress from the gate to his house. The day was warm and the late afternoon sunlight glowed golden on the new stone and even within the City walls there was a slight breeze that fluttered the banners carried by his guard, glittering on the silver and gold thread they were stitched with. As she watched it occurred to her that the scene unfolding below as the king made his stately progress to his house would make a fine tapestry.

The air hummed with sound, the clatter of hooves and the buzz of low toned conversation. She could not hear the words for there were too many of them but she knew the substance of them for she had heard them at his past visits. How fair he was, how fine he looked, was it true that he remembered the days when Gondor had kings, that he had known Bards forefathers in the days before the dragon arrived at the mountain? How could that be, they would wonder, when he was as a youth, as beautiful and lithe and unmarred as those who stood upon the brink of life? Yet there was something greater about him was there not, they would whisper, something that went beyond the fair appearance of all elves? Something magical and powerful, yet something else too, something that spoke of many battles fought and a hard won wisdom?

Oh yes the arrival of the King of Greenwood would send the townsfolk into a flurry of whispers and amazed wondering.

Tauriel watched for a moment longer, noting that for all the pomp he had come in armour, beautiful armour, more ceremonial than the mithril set he had worn at he battle, yet armour all the same. He came as a warrior of the battle as well as a king. His hair glowed gold in the fading sun and the reddening light flashed on his diadem, the decoration of his cloak and the hilt of his sword, and in this moment even she could see him as a magnificent Elven lord, one who might have just stepped from the verses of a song. Yet had she been closer she knew she would have seen that his eyes had taken on the shade of grey that betrayed that grief rode with him as it always did when he came here.

But the watching populous would not see that grief, nor could they imagine the depth of it, for their grief had already faded.

They were cheering him as he advanced, showering him and his guard with petals and scattering sweet smelling herbs beneath their horses' hooves in honour of the event. They were holding up their children to see this Elvenking, this powerful and ethereal being, this great warrior lord whose life had somehow become entwined with their own. Thranduil smiled slightly and inclined his head to those watching him as he passed, and once he reached out a hand to touch that head of a small child held in her mothers arms close to the front of the press of people, a child so overcome by the emotion of those around her that tears flowed down her face.

Yet none dared to come close enough to impede his progress, they kept a respectful distance for both his kingship and his strangeness.

She felt the anger stir again as she watched his approach, how could they laud him in this way when he had been willing to let the dwarfs die? The sight and sound faded and she felt tears stir for the first time since the wizard came. She bit her lip in frustration and blinked them away, unwilling to let the other guards see and wonder as to their cause. She stared unseeing towards the sound of the kings continued approach, perhaps the people of this city had some small cause to be grateful to him it was true but how could they let that outweigh the fact that he had been willing to turn away from Kilis' danger? How could they?

Tauriel felt rather than heard the guards around her move and pushed the thought away and concentrated on the events unfolding in the thoroughfare below her.

He was close now; she could see the embroidery on his cloak, leaves picked out in silver and green, the gems on his sword belt and the tassels on his gloves. His golden hair rippled as he turned his head to acknowledge the crowds at his gate, the long tresses shining like the gilding on the marble statues of Bards ancestor that guarded the Court House. His smile was as soft and gentle as a late spring morn.

Tauriel drew a deep breathe and tried to summon up the memory of the vengeful lord who had shattered her bow on that snowy day of battle, the memory that always drove away the empty ache within her and eased the doubts and fears that seemed to grow with each new day. But at this moment she found that she could not command it.

He close enough now that she could feel his aura, like a shaft of sunlight shining through the trees or the wind rippling newly unfurled leaves. The young trees and bushes planted at the corners of the house seemed to reach out to him and even the early summer flowers that nestled in the cracks in the stone of the walls appeared to glow brighter. Yet for her it felt as if that aura reached out and wrung her heart as she watched and as tears washed her eyes once more she turned away again and started to make her way down to the courtyard gate.

As she heard the party pass through the arch and into the shadow of Elvenkings house she dropped her hand into her tunic to check the message was there before she stepped out into the thoroughfare and started towards the city walls.