A/N

As always anything of any worth belongs to JRRT. Other things belong to whosoever the law says they do - rarely me :(

To the guest I cant respond to - thanks for taking time to review and I'm glad the bees found favour; its one of my favourites amongst the images my brain has generated for this story. Thanks too for the reassurance regarding my ever expanding word count.

Unwelcome insight

Legolas drew a deep breath as the door closed behind the master of the robes, steeling himself for what was still to come. He wished himself anywhere but here, having this conversation and a fleeting recognition of how much had changed to make him feel so passed through his mind but was banished for later consideration.

He turned and smiled.
"I am sorry for that, but it was better dealt with now, for he would have lingered if he could."
She raised tear filled eyes to him.
"It is of no matter, you have duties to attend to I know."
"But no more for the moment, we will not be disturbed again, my word on it."
He seated himself again and leaned towards here.
"Where were we when he came? You were speaking of my father's refusal were you not?"
She nodded.
"Yes, for I do not understand. You say that there was no hope of assistance and yet I cannot see why you say so; you cannot have believed it then for you came with me." She brushed a hand across her eyes. "Had your father done as I asked of him, had help been sent then Kili might have lived. We might….."
Her voice tailed away.

He felt her sorrow pull at him and spoke gently, not denying her claim, much as he wished to, and careful not to raise any suggestion of her own role in the dwarfs death.
"Do you truly believe that? Do you think they might have been reached without even greater loss, or that being reached would have saved them?"
He paused but she said nothing and he sighed.
"Having thought much on it since that day I cannot agree that was so, it seems to me that a warning would have served no purpose, for if warned what were they to do, where were they to go? What good would a warning have done them when Azog was already on the Watchtower?"
He saw the anger spark in her eyes again but continued as if he had not.
"My father has seen many battles, far more than you or I, he has fought in them as warrior and commander, do you not think his assessment of the outcome was more likely to be right?"

She frowned again and the tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice was low yet there was a deep bitterness in her tone.
"There would have been hope! You excuse him, but he did not care! It was not for his soldiers he refused but because they were dwarfs. He said that Kili, they, would die anyway, because they were mortal!"
Legolas sighed again suddenly weary of a situation that seemed to change nothing, but that he felt honour bound to continue until she had said what she needed to say.
"I know, and I know that it angered you," he said quietly, "but was that a lie, or anything other than the reality of it? It was a battle Tauriel, and death was all around for men, dwarfs and elves and much in his mind. I understand that you see his words, the thought, to be cruel, and the manner of the telling was hard I admit, but it was the truth. As was the fact that Oakenshield and his kin chose to risk their lives in that manner, first in challenging a dragon for gold, then in mounting Ravenhill."

He saw her eyes flash and her lips part, and spoke quickly to forestall the coming protest.
"Oh I know that they spoke of a noble quest, of reclaiming a home, and yet from what I observed and heard gold played the larger part in their quest, certainly for Oakenshield. That and the Arkenstone. Why else did they refuse to deal fairly with Bard when they had captured their mountain and so had won that home? My father's assessment of their intentions as burglary was closer to the truth it seems."
He shook his head sadly.
"Everything that day was of their making Tauriel, for the dragon would not have come but for the gold the dwarfs had collected, nor would the goblin horde have come but for that same gold and had they not heard that Smaug was dead. Had Oakenshield and his kin been less concerned with coveting the gold and berating my father then perhaps all present would not have been taken so unaware."

She shook her head.
"No! Oakenshield perhaps, but not Kili. Not Kili." She drew a deep breath. "Even if it were true your father's sin is the greater for he said it didn't matter when they died."
Legolas inclined his head.
"That was harsh I grant, but he was angry and in pain. He went to secure a mountain and ended walking through the blood of his dead shed in a battle he did not seek and could not avoid."
He felt the sadness well up within him and struggled to keep his voice calm.
"The loss of each one of his people hurt him Tauriel, and it was Oakenshields' actions that caused the bloodshed. With so many lying dead about him was it really so unkind for him to remind you of their inescapable mortality when you wanted others sent to die."
Her mouth twisted in bitter mockery of a smile.
"He was not hurt my Lord, only angry that we did not bow to his demand. That I had challenged him on his neglect; that I told him the truth of it. Did you not see that?"

Legolas broke the chain of memory again to refill his wine cup, taking a gulp as he recalled the angry accusation in her voice. Mithrandir's words came back into his mind, finally understanding the wizards concerns about her attitude towards his father, for there was a hostility towards him in her that seemed more encompassing than that associated with his refusal to aid the dwarf. He could see her in his minds eye, face ablaze with anger that had, for a moment, seemed to possess her beyond reason. Yes, if she had shown that face to the wizard then his warning to the king made more sense.

He took another swallow of wine and continued with his review with some regret, for this had been the most painful part of the meeting.

He had felt the old despair pull at him again, he remembered, recalling once again that terrible meeting in the snow and his own blindness, and he could hear the pain in his own voice as he replied.
"I saw great feeling in him, and confess to my shame that I misunderstood it. My concern for you prevented me from seeing what should have been clear and I have lived to regret that. I suspect I will for ever."
She had looked at him in disbelief.
"Your shame? You have nothing to be ashamed of! It is others who should feel shame. You did not turn away; you tried to give them aid."
He had paused a moment at her words, drawing a deep breath, knowing that this was a point of some importance, and that it carried pain for them both. Yet the wound must be touched if they were to come to any understanding.

He let the breath out slowly.
"That is not so, I went to help you, not them, and in helping you I ignored many of my kin, and men, who were also in great danger; as great a danger as that of the dwarfs on Ravenhill. That too I bitterly regret. I aided Oakenshield on Ravenhill it is true because he was in immediate peril, but I did not go to Ravenhill for that purpose. Do not think that I chose to help them over others; I went to help you for I saw the pain and grief in you and could not bear it. Looking back I see no great honour in that."
Tauriel looked suddenly uncertain.
"Does why matter? You came when you were needed and helped. I do not know what has caused you to think this way? I thought that we agreed that we are part of this world and owe aid to those beyond our own kin."

He looked at her in silence for a moment and realised how long ago it seemed since they had spoken of that, at least for him, and how much had changed since then. Yet for an elf it should be but a breath, why then did it feel as if an age had passed? He had pushed the thought away for later consideration and smiled at her.
"I recall those words and perhaps they hold some truth, but the how and when and why no longer seem so simple. Certainly not when doing so causes such pain and destruction to others. I have seen more of others in my wanderings, more than I had then and much more than you, and I have come to think that is the case only when help is truly needed or sought. Not when it most serves our own desires, or opinion, nor for the glory or pride of it, for there is no virtue in that, and there can be much harm, and not at the needless expense of our kin. This much I learned in my wandering Tauriel, that others are masters of their own fates, man, dwarf and elf, and must be so or it is not their will or their fate and they are not free."

He shrugged sadly, something suddenly coming clear to him in a way it had not been before.
"Nor is it for us to decide when there in need, few would truly welcome our help unless it was requested, indeed help given unasked is easily seen as something else. My father has long understood this, perhaps as only one who has seen the true outcome of unwise assistance can do. He allows others to go their way and asks little of them, but he has never refused to give aid when it has been sought, as he did to the men of the lake. The dwarfs sought no help but desired to be masters of their own fates; they refused help when it was offered by my father and chose their doom both in challenging Smaug and in mounting Ravenhill."
Her uncertainty turned to anger again.
"He turned away, my Lord, he judged them less worthy and abandoned Kili to a cruel fate."
He had felt a sense of helplessness sweep through him then and recalled his fathers warning of the possible need for harsh truths. He turned his eyes away from hers, knowing what had to be said but not wanting to see her reaction to it.

He spoke softly but his tone was uncompromising.
"And what of you Tauriel, who was your concern for? Who did you judge to be worthy? How did your actions aid the world? Is it not the case that your care was much smaller, that you cared for your dwarf rather than the world? That he alone was worthy to live. From the moment my father ordered you from the questioning of the Orc where was your concern directed, when did your duty to another outweigh your care for him?"
She said nothing but he pressed on.
"You showed little regard for my father who had protected you most of your life, or for those you had served beside, laughed and feasted with. Nor did you show much care for those dying in Dale. Who then did you care for? What was it that you sought? Had he lived there would have been little future for you, his people would not accept you and our people would have found it hard to accept him. More than that his life would have been brief to an elf, soon you would have been grieving him as you do now. You would be alone in your grief then too, for there could be no children for you with him as a husband, this you know as did my father. What then is it that you sought that was worthy of others lives being shed for it?"
He looked at her again and his voice hardened.
"Had it been Bard on Ravenhill what would you have done, would you have sought aid for him regardless of the cost?"

She didn't answer that but her look became steely and searching and her voice was cold.
"Would you have done it differently if you could then?"
He met her look with one as direct.
"Yes, I would that I had done it differently. But I know that to be a hopeless cause and all I can do is live with my mistakes and seek never to repeat them."

She looked down at her tea with a weary expression.
"He has won then. You have become your fathers' son," her tone was soft but bitter.
He had smiled at her, not quite understanding why she found the need to say it, or why it should matter. Or why she should ever have thought he was not.
"I hope I always was, though perhaps I did not understand that then. For he is wise in the ways of the world, wiser than most, steadfast and true to his vow of kingship, and as kind and gentle and generous as that kingship allows him to be. He honours and loves his people and deals fairly with those who treat him so. Why would I wish to be anything other than his son?"

She smiled a stony smile without looking up.
"You wish you had left them to die."
That brought him another sudden surge of irritation, one he mastered with some effort and replied gently enough.
"No, I neither said that nor meant it. Nor did my father, though you may see it otherwise, indeed seem determined to do so. Yet why should you judge it so when you could have gone to Ravenhill yourself as soon as Mithrandir told us of the situation if your fear for the dwarf was truly so great. For myself, I admit that I now wish I had not left others unaided to spare you pain."
She swallowed hard at that and her voice was harsh as she replied.
"Yet you came and as a result you killed Bolg."
He sighed.
"I did, and that alone redeems my actions."

For a moment she was silent, staring down at her tea, finally she took a hurried swallow and raised her eyes to meet his again. Her expression was closed and distant.
"You are fortunate then for I am not granted any redemption. Worse than that, for now it seems that your father seeks to damn me forever."
Her words took him by surprise and he frowned.
"You misunderstand him; he seeks only to do what he can for you."
Anger bloomed in her eyes again but her air of distant self possession remained.
"Indeed my Lord? By slandering me, as he did Killi and his companions?"

For a moment his irritation returned and almost slipped its leash and he had sat back and stared at her in frustrated bemusement; his voice was laden with confusion as he responded.
"How did he slander them? What did he say of them that was not true or fair? Their intentions were clear for all to see, to take the mountain and all it contained for themselves, whether it was theirs or not. Oakenshield's words to Bard were proof enough of that. As for his actions after their capture, what could they have expected? They appeared uninvited and unannounced in a Realm not theirs, and one facing constant threat, disturbed its people and would give no account of themselves when challenged. What would you have had him do with them? They might have been servants of Sauron!"

Her calm air evaporated.
"He treated them so because they were dwarfs!" Her voice was almost a hiss of anger.
He shook his head.
"That is not so Tauriel. It was not their race that drew his ire but their conduct."
He saw her lips part and raised his hand to stem her denial.
"It is true that my father has known lies and treachery from dwarves in the past, that they murdered his king and slaughtered his kin. In the early days of his time in the Greenwood they caused much strife and damage to the forest and also sought to claim our people's lands. It is also true that Oakenshield's grandfather stole from him and lied about the matter. Yes, he has good reason for any distrust he felt and their behaviour was not such to reassure him, but he is a king and knows well how to deal with such provocations and had they answered him fairly he would have treated them with grace."

She discounted his words with an angry shrug.
"They meant no harm! There was no reason to set them under lock and key."
He leaned forward meeting her eyes with a rising anger in his own.
"No reason, when they entered the forest unannounced and would not speak honestly about their intentions! They were not our guests Tauriel; they were not invited into our Realm. Nor had they requested leave to be there or use the road."
He sat back again, trying to quell his annoyance.
"Even so, had they stayed on the road they would have been treated as travellers and even though they were unwelcome they would have been left in peace; but they did not stay on the road. As a result our people were disturbed and spiders were stirred to activity bringing danger to all. No, they brought their imprisonment upon themselves, surely you know that for you saw it, or have you forgotten their insults and sulks?"

She glowered at him.
"I saw that he was unconcerned when he heard the Orc boast of Kilis' death. I saw that he cared nothing for my hurt and anger. I heard him dismiss it as unimportant even as he sent me away. He cared not for them or for me, I could be sent away as if I was nothing more than a disobedient child and Kili could be abandoned to his fate; all he cared for was getting the answers he wanted."
Legolas shook his head, understanding Mithrandirs' frustration at her as he had not done before.
"As was proper at the time! I ask you again what else would you have had him do? He had a Realm to concern him, a people for whom he is lord and leader. He needed to know what threat it was that we faced! Would you have had him ignore that for one interloper, a stranger he considered, had been told was, already lost?"

She was unmoved and undeterred by the question.
"He could have sent help after them afterwards."
Legolas fixed his eyes on her, searching her face for some sign of understanding.
"To what purpose Tauriel, he believed the dwarf dead, even if he knew where they were what could he have done?"
She met his look defiantly.
"He could have done as we did."
Legolas smiled a bitter smile
"Ah, you would have had him send others into danger again. I ask you once more to what purpose? In the end what did we achieve?"
She frowned as if she didn't understand the question.
"I saved him."

His anger died as quickly as it had come and he drew a deep breath before answering.
"You did, but how you did is one of those questions that needed to be answered for you should not have expected to do so."
Fear crossed her face and Legolas felt a surge of sympathy for her, a feeling that grew with the uncertainty in her voice.
"I know I should not have been able to do so," she said. "I do not know how I did. I had to try but I didn't truly expect to succeed."
"Yet you did." He said softly.
"Yes." Defiance replaced the uncertainty, "and I am glad of it, though it is being used to condemn me."

He looked at her with confusion.
"Condemn you?"
She had brushed away another tear but he was not sure what, or who, it was shed for.
"Is that not what the king believes, that my healing Kili is a sign that I have made some form of trade with evil, that I have fallen under its spell? Do you also now believe me to be an agent of the dark one, seek to damn me, as it seems your father does?"
"Why do you think that he seeks to do that?"
"Was that not why he sent Mithrandir to me? Is that how he speaks of me, as dark elf, a servant of evil? Do you seek to accuse me too? For I am not, I swear."
Legolas sighed wearily.
"No one has accused you, nor will they. There were questions that had to be answered, things that should not have happened and yet did and so needed to be explained, that was why he came and it was his choice not my father's wish. The king allowed it and made it as easy for you as he could, but wizards cannot be denied if they truly wish something, certainly not that one. You should know that."

Tauriel glared at him.
"Perhaps. Yet he must have had such thoughts, why else did Mithrandir come for who else put the thoughts into his head? Is he seeking to charge me so? Or does he seek to send me further away? You said Lord Elrond came to visit, was that why? Does the king seek to send me to Imladris, or did he wish the Lore masters view on how I might be punished?"
Legolas stared at her in astonishment, for the truth was he had forgotten that he had told her of Elrond's visit, but why she would assume it
related to her he could not see.
"Neither of those, why should you think this? My father did not invite Elrond or seek his advice, rather the opposite. He requested the visit to seek a boon of my father."
There was no need for her to know more than that.

She cast him a sceptical look.
"Yet he had not visited in all of my life, and long before that they say, and only now he needs this boon."
Legolas shrugged.
"There are wider events that concern both him and my father that have nothing to do with the events of Dale or our grief and turmoil."
Tauriel looked to be unconvinced by his assurance.
"You are sure of this? The king does not seek to condemn me further or banish me to some other Elven Realm?"
For a moment he debated telling her his father's words on the matter; that no other Elven Realm would accept one such as she, who had threatened to murder her king and protector, but decided there was nothing to be gained by doing so. He contented himself with a brief nod.
"I am sure. My father is satisfied with the current arrangement and is willing to continue it, provided Dain does not make difficulties for Bard about your presence."

She cast him a searching look and then drew a deep breath.
"I know of King Dain's antipathy towards me though I cannot see why he should feel so. But I am careful to abide by the restrictions placed upon me where his people are concerned. But the King, he will not let me return to the forest?"
Legolas dipped his head.
"He tells me that he has explained to you the reason why that is not possible."
Tauriel edged forward in her seat slightly.
"Yet you may do so. I would not have you banished but I do not understand why I must continue to be so, is his malice to me so great? Could you not prevail upon him to reconsider? I understand that it might be hard for me to return to the palace but is it not possible that some place within the forest could be found where I might serve the king and our people away from the memories of that day? Here they haunt me and I can see no end to it."
Sympathy stirred in him again, for he could see that might be the case. He shook his head sadly.
"There is nothing that I can say that could change it, for he could not if he wished it. The law does not allow for it, as it is he is granting extreme leniency in allowing you to remain here. I can only hope that as the city is rebuilt and the humans who recall that day pass from the world it will become easier for you."

With a deep sigh she got to her feet.
"Then I will trouble you no more my Lord. It is clear to me that you no longer feel our deeds of that day to be of value, and that we do not grieve for the same things. I would not cause you any further trouble or worry."
She smiled sadly and bowed.
"Be assured of my continued well wishes for your father the king and for yourself. I ask your leave to return to my duties."
Legolas felt a deep sadness but he inclined his head in acceptance.
"As you wish."

She left without another word or a backward look.

Now he was left with a feeling that matters between them were still unresolved, indeed he was not sure that any progress had been made at all, but then he was not clear what Tauriel had wished to achieve from their meeting. For himself he had been taken aback by the width of the gulf that now seemed to lie between them. Nor was he sure what had caused it, but he could not escape the fact that his view of that day had changed whilst it appeared that hers had not. Just as his father had warned would be the case. The fact brought him some guilt, as he had also been warned, but not as much as he had feared, and perhaps his father had feared. Yet he could not fathom why that was the case, though he was glad of it.

He sighed and took another swallow of wine. She continued to be blind to the effects of her actions for others, just as his father and Mithrandir had warned. Had she always been so fastened upon her own thoughts and feelings and he had not seen it, or was it just another outcome of that day in Dale? He could see how living within the city, in view of the mountain, might keep her trapped in the past, after all for an elf seven springs was as nothing, yet he had been left with the feeling that there was more than that involved in this case.

A knock on the door halted his wondering.
"Come."
Galion entered, cast an assessing eye over him, and bowed.
"Your father bids you join him if you will for his guests will be arriving shortly."
Legolas put his glass aside, rose and smiled at the other elf.
"Thank you I will come immediately."
Galion inclined his head and left.

Legolas caught up his circlet from the table and set it upon his brow, then shook out his cloak and followed.

The evening had passed in a flurry of music, dance and chatter. The lamplight had glittered on silks and satins, flashed on gems and gilded belts and danced in fine crystal. The music had been sedate and the dances formal, the whole affair having little in common with the feasts and celebrations of his people within the forest, but then few of those present were elves. Nor were any of Dain's people present, invitations had been sent to him and his entourage but all had been declined with varying excuses, a fact that had brought a cynical smile from Thranduil. Bard and his family were guests of honour of course, this being the last night before he changed his title from Bowman to King. But others of note had been invited too and none had declined, and the company was a large and illustrious one, even an emissary of Gondor was present.

The night had been warm and the air soft and the sound of the courtyard fountains provided a soothing background to the hum of voices when the musicians were silent. The cooks had outdone themselves and the long tables were piled with delicacies of many kinds and the scent of herbs and spices mingled with perfume of night flowers on the gentle breeze. The wine had flowed freely from first to last yet the event had been decorous enough, the presence of the Elvenking and of Bard putting all on their best behaviour; though Thranduil had taken the precaution of ensuring the headier vintages of his cellars were not served. He was well aware of the effects of such drink upon mortals, though elves were little affected by wine, and he would not have Bard embarrassed in his house, particularly on this night.

Legolas had danced his way through the female guest list as requested starting with Bards second daughter and ending with the youngest daughter of a prominent, and wealthy, merchant who had recently settled in Dale and pledged a notable amount to its re-building. His father had danced but three times in the evening, firstly with Bards eldest daughter to open the dancing, followed by his second daughter and then with the only daughter of the new Master of Laketown. For the rest of the evening he had confined himself to conversation and debate.

He smiled slyly to himself at the way the eyes of the ladies present followed his father as he moved elegantly through the dance, and later as he moved around the beautiful rooms and gardens, their attention drawn as much by his undeniable grace and beauty as his aura of authority and the crown upon his head. Tonight he was dressed in green and gold, an embroidered tunic open to mid chest worn over a white silken shirt with silver embroidered lace at throat and wrist; his crown was of willow woven with white roses and soft scented jasmine and edged with white and yellow gems. His over robe was fastened at the base of his throat by a string of white gems and around his neck was a mithryl chain on which was suspended one of the emeralds of Girion gifted to him by Bard after the battle.

But it was not the fine clothes or gems that drew their eyes towards him, nor that mix of curiosity and awe that elves inspired in mortals, but more the sense of being in company with a story come to life. The ambassador from Gondor had been struck dumb when Thranduil blithely recounted seeing its great city as it was built. The king seemed oblivious to any of this and yet he dominated the room even when sitting in quiet discussion with Bard and his advisors, people's eyes, men and women alike, constantly drifting in his direction.

Legolas was aware that he too attracted much admiring attention, as did all of the elves present, something that elves that moved amongst Men had to learn to ignore. Though sometimes the bolder of human women could make that a difficult task; particularly those who knew little of the nature of elves and assumed them subject to the same weaknesses and ungoverned appetites as mortal men. In fact despite this being his fathers house, and the presence of so many dignitaries, he had been the object of more than one attempt to lure him into places of secluded darkness this evening, attempts he had escaped from with a bow, a smile and gentle excuses. But he also knew that he would be considered as but a candle to the sun of his father by most here, and he wondered how many more centuries it would take for him to achieve the same presence as his sire. More than an age perhaps, if the world survived that long.

Now the guests were departing, the wine, food and dance having brought them to a point where weariness made their beds seem attractive, even though they wished to wring every morsel of pleasure from the evening. Bard had withdrawn some time ago, for the new day would bring his crowning and no doubt he would wish for time to prepare himself, and he had spent much of the time before his departure in private conversation with the Elvenking. As the stars glowed brightly in the summer night sky Legolas found that he longed for the last of the guests to depart, wishing only for a chance to find a vantage point from which he might sit and watch them in solitary peace.

His father was in deep conversation with the visiting Lord from Gondor in one of the arbours and so it fell to his son to accept the thanks of the less exalted departing guests, for few were willing to interrupt them. Slowly the rooms and gardens emptied and the servants of the kings' house began to remove the remnants of the feast, only then did the king himself emerge from the shadows and move towards the gate.

It was then that point that Legolas first caught sight of Tauriel, dressed in uniform and clearly just released from her duties, standing in the deeper shadows on the far edge of gardens. Her air of isolation tugged at his heart and on an impulse he excused himself from the small party to whom he had been bidding good night and moved across the courtyard, weaving his way through the remaining guests towards her.

She seemed unaware to those moving around her, to the noise and the light, and to his approach, instead all her attention was focussed upon one place. As he drew closer he could see the tension in her, so much that her hands were fisted at her side. He was about to call her name when she took a step forward and into the torchlight, still apparently oblivious to the world around her. He halted, taken aback by the intensity of the expression on her face, an expression he could never recall having seen on the face of an elf before. There was anger there but there was also something else, a yearning, a wanting that could only be described as hunger, a powerful hunger judging by the intensity of it.

Legolas was seized by sudden fear, a desire to turn away from a look he felt he was not intended to see, as if he was intruding into her most private of thoughts. Yet he could not turn away, nor could he draw her attention to himself though some instinct warned him that he might be happier if he did, and after a moment he turned his eyes to the direction in which she looked. Wondering what it could be that would inspire such feelings in her, for no dwarf was present, and yet somehow afraid of what it might be. Perhaps it was because their earlier meeting had been so unsatisfactory that he found himself unable to push away his wish to know what it was that brought such a look to her face.

So despite his misgivings he turned his head and followed the direction of her gaze.

A feeling of cold horror swept through him, for there was no doubting of the object of her regard. Disbelief took hold of him, a feeling that it could not be and he turned back towards her hoping that he had been mistaken in what he thought he had read in her face. But he had not been mistaken. The intensity of her stare shook him again, for she seemed completely lost in her feelings and oblivious to all else. It made no sense to him and yet the first inkling of why it might make sense crept into his mind and set an icy chain about his heart. He turned to follow her gaze once again, still hoping that he was in error. But again there was no mistake; there could be no doubt whom it was that Tauriel stared at with such intense longing. His father.