As Stone~
None of them had ever seen an elf cry.
By all accounts, most of them had been under the impression that elves were incapable of tears. The private beings was known for closing themselves off from the other races of Middle-Earth. Their emotions were a rarity to outsiders. Tears, a true physical manifestation of feeling was odder still to see. It was the sort of thing they would hear of and brush away with disbelief.
Yet, in that gray moment underneath a smoky sky, they were faced with the red-haired she-elf that somehow managed to find her way to them time and time again. Though none would ever say it, for elves were not particularly attractive to dwarves, they all secretly admitted that there was a beauty to Tauriel's form then. Her bright windblown hair, the dreary backdrop of the ruined tower, and the odd paleness of her grief-stricken thin face.
Their eyes, rimmed with dirt, grime, and sweat, fell upon the figure she protectively hunched over, their own hearts sinking low with sorrow. Their dark-haired archer was still as stone, his youthful features shut away from them by the call of death. His blood splayed around them, a darkening halo serving as a terrible storyteller. Their grief overpowered the shock they should have felt to see an elf weep for a dwarf, her hand clasping his with a desperate need none of them could satisfy.
Bofur, a toy-maker by birth, a warrior by choice, was unable to stop the watering in his eyes. He had been there when there had been great belief that Kili would be lost to them. He had felt the sting of fear that came with the realization that his friend might die. More than that, he had witnessed the elf-lass appearing from within the dark to heal a dying Kili. Had been privy to a whispering of barely revealed feelings and a moment on the shore that would turn the gears in his head when he pondered the development during a quiet moment alone. Kili was a passionate dwarf, prone to following his emotions wherever they took him. He was a son of Durin and very much aware of the role he would play once his uncle reclaimed the mountain in their names. But Kili was not bound by the obligations that would bind Thorin as king and Fili as heir apparent. He was the younger brother who would bring honor to the family. In all other matters he would do as he wished. He had not been raised to be royal. To follow the path someone set before him. Like a dark shadow he roamed wherever he wished. He did as he pleased. He took what he wanted. It was not hard to believe that the boy would see no error in falling in love and sharing his feelings with a elf. Especially an elf that had imprisoned and tracked them down.
Bofur shouldn't have been as surprised as he'd been. He had shared the same look of disbelief Fili had worn when they had heard the quietly hopeful question the wounded prince had given atop the table in Laketown. Their gaping scrutiny had become even more prominent when all eyes flitted to an Elf who had clearly been torn to answer. Bofur and Fili, possibly even Kili and Tauriel, they all knew that whatever fondness Kili may have for her, they could never be. The boy had been setting himself up for disappointment.
But as the usually cheerful dwarf observed the two, tangled together in a bloody, sobbing, heap across cracked flagstones, he realized with a painful pang that the same had been true for the she-elf. For some unimaginable reason, while hers had been decidedly far more difficult to reveal, there was no denial in that moment that she had suffered the same. The captain of the elven guard had clearly fallen for Kili as he had for her. She was there, kneeling with sobs tearing her throat, beautiful features twisted in heartbreaking pain.
They were brought back into the moment by her cracked whisper. "He is as stone to me." Her fingertips caressed his brow, glassy eyes searching his face in futile hope that if she gazed hard enough, he would wake, the smirk he reserved for her in place.
Ori shyly slid from behind Gloin, cautiously approaching the woman. "A-aye lass." His voice trembled with deep hurt. "But th-that's why we're here. We have to take him."
Her arms tightened around Kili, expression crumpling. "No." She firmly responded. "Not….yet."
Thranduil, the forgotten spectator suddenly floated to her side. His gaze held hers. She sobbed, once, eyes closing heavily. Everyone was stunned when she turned and lowered her head to place a soft kiss to the lips of her fallen love. She shakily let her prince go, burning the image of his unmoving face in her memory.
The dwarves crowded around, gently placing their arms under their fallen comrade to lift him. Gloin supporting his torso while Nori took ahold of his legs. Without Tauriel to hover over him, the cause of his defeat was made horribly clear by the harsh twisting of his mail across his chest. Ori wept unashamedly at the sight. Bofur made to help as they began to leave but stopped when he saw the red-haired elf step to the opposite edge of the platform.
If he were Thorin, he would have let her go.
If he were Dwalin, he would have grunted with relief and spared her no other thought.
If he were anyone else, he would have kindly let her walk away to find a life outside the dwarves.
But Bofur could ever be one person and though it meant extending a kindness that wasn't his to give, he did as only he could.
"No wait!"
He wasn't supposed to. He knew that. He knew that the others wouldn't agree. Thorin would never forgive him for it. No one would thank him for what he was about to do. But he couldn't bring himself to let her leave in such a way. Not when….
"There's still a chance lass." He told her breathlessly, agonizing fear gripping his heart as he caught her view. The range of emotions he was able to pinpoint flashing through her eyes left him in reluctant awe. He could actually read her and that drove the inner belief he had suddenly come upon further into him. He strode to her quickly, grabbing her wrist gently, surprised by his own daring. She flinched at the contact but kept her focus on him as he quietly repeated, "There's still a chance."
Something in his words convinced her. She spared her King a glance before rushing to catch up with the dwarves as they descended the mountain. Bofur stayed in place, feeling as if he had aged a hundred years in the span of a day. He felt movement from behind.
"It is not wise to give hope where there is none to give." The elvish monarch quipped coldly. Bofur ignored the tall being, shrugging his shoulders and picking up his war hammer from where he'd dropped it, his gaze in the direction that Tauriel had fled.
He knew he'd never be forgiven for it. She was an elf, a hated enemy. She wasn't one of them.
But the longer their journey had taken, the farther they had traveled, the more Bofur realized that maybe he wasn't a typical dwarf. And maybe Kili and Tauriel weren't meant to be what the world expected them to be.
There was a chance, slim though it was; a secret that only those of the line of Durin and members of the company had been privy to. If Kili survived his wounds, Bofur knew he would search for the elf-maid that had captured his heart. Heaving a weary sigh the dwarf fought to catch up to his compatriots.
In the clearing behind him a wary Thranduil shook his head.
I will never let this ship die. Kili, Fili, and Thorin didn't die at the Battle of the Five (it should have been four, let's face it, the movie messed that whole thing up) armies and the rest of the lore for the Lord of the Rings isn't correct either. Lol.
