III. The Hobbit: Epilachnaverse
All the Time in the World
TA 2697
(284 years later)
Thranduil strode through the gates and straight past the guards and lords who had gathered to greet him. Legolas watched him disappear down the hall leading to his private study. He locked eyes with Lord Feren who had led his father's escort to Erebor. They had returned sooner than expected. Legolas could tell by the look in Feren's eyes that all had not gone well.
"What happened?" Legolas asked when he reached Feren's side.
"Thror altered the terms of their exchange," Feren replied.
"To what?"
"He demands the remainder of Limrond's stones, in exchange for the jewelry your father commissioned."
Legolas was taken aback by the audacity of the demand. He could hardly imagine what answer his father had given Thror. "What was my father's reply?"
Feren shook his head. "He turned on his heels and departed Erebor without a word. He said nothing on the journey home."
This was less than reassuring news. Legolas dismissed Feren with a nod, and after a moment's deliberation, went in search of his father. There was no telling what state he would be in now, having had the entire journey to brood.
Legolas approached his father's private rooms with trepidation. He was not quite sure what he expected of his father mood, but smashed statuary was not out of the question. What he found instead was the King of Greenwood staring placidly out across the palace walks, sipping a glass of wine.
Legolas waited to have his presence acknowledged but grew impatient as his father continued to ignore him. "Feren told me what happened in Erebor," he said. When his father continued on in silence, he added, "What will you do?"
Thranduil turned around to face his son and with little more than a shrug, replied, "Nothing."
Legolas would have been less confused had his father ordered him to tear the mountain down with his bare hands. "Nothing?" he echoed.
Thranduil was not deaf or blind to his son's confusion. Legolas was still young by the measure of elves, but Thranduil had lived many lifetimes by the measure of dwarves. He had has seen them come and go – and would again.
"Their kingdom will not last," said Thranduil. "Thror is consumed by madness. He forgets the lessons of his forebears. The serpents will not remain in the north with such a horde as to be found in Erebor."
Thranduil closed the space between them as he spoke until he stood before his son. He held Legolas's gaze, intent to drive the lesson home.
"In a few short years, Thror will be gone. His son will be gone. And his son's son. Time is with us. We need only wait, and when they are but memory, we will reclaim what is ours. They will be no more than the dust we tread upon our way."
Legolas had no reason to doubt his father's prediction. He nodded once to mark he understood him.
Thranduil turned his attention to his desk and the stack of missives waiting for him there. "In the meantime," he said, "all trade between Erebor and Greenwood will cease. Let them eat mithril and whatever the men of Dale can provide."
Legolas nodded, "I will see to it." He turned on his heels to carry out the order at once. If that was all Legolas was permitted to do to repay the dwarves for their betrayal, he would do it well.
Thranduil watched his son disappear to carry out his order. It was a small retaliation. No more than a minor inconvenience to the dwarves of Erebor, to be sure. They had wealth enough to import their needs from afar. Thranduil knew that, but he knew, also, that the farther the wealth of Erebor spread, the more attention it would draw. Thror's kingdom would not be safe for long.
Thranduil grazed the left side of his face with the tips of his fingers. He felt nothing beneath his hand or in his heart but a cold, empty rage. Would that his rage could be made a flame, he would burn Erebor to the ground.
Captain of the Guard
TA 2902
(205 years later)
Tauriel paced back and forth wearing a groove into the stone floor. "I don't know why I am so nervous."
"It is a momentous day," Legolas replied. "I would think it odd if you were calm."
"What if I forget the words and make a fool of myself?"
"It would not be the first time," he jibed. Legolas had hoped his humor would calm her some, but it failed, miserably. Tauriel continued to pace with an unusual intensity. "What is wrong?" he pressed. "You have never been this anxious about anything."
Tauriel took a deep breath and exhaled before looking her prince directly in the eye, pleading for understanding. "I want to believe I deserve this, that it is not a... a kindness."
A kindness? Legolas nearly laughed aloud but wisely managed to contain the impulse. "Have you met my father?"
"You know what I mean," Tauriel replied.
He did. But Legolas was surprised Tauriel would imagine her promotion had anything to do with favoritism. Had she not lived within these walls long enough to know otherwise? By her level of anxiety, clearly not, but Legolas was not certain how to convince her, other than by example.
"Did I ever tell you about my first champion title?" he asked.
"With the bow?"
Legolas shook his head and grinned. "No. Long before that – my snail title."
Tauriel halted her pacing and looked at her prince as if he had gone mad. "Snail... title?"
"Indeed," Legolas replied. "You gaze now upon the third champion snail hunter in the realm."
Tauriel could not contain her own humor at the thought and wished to hear more. She sat down on a bench opposite Legolas. "You never told me about snails."
No, he supposed he had not. Legolas did not know why. He had told her many tales over the years of his adventures with her brothers in their youth. He was not quite sure how he had missed this one. "Your brother Aurel and I would hunt for snails by the riverbank. We made it a game and then a competition. My father was the judge, of course. As King, it was his duty."
"I can hardly imagine your father judging a children's game!"
Nor could Legolas imagine it now. "Aurel was the first champion. The following year, Himel. And then me."
"Did you receive a medal?" Tauriel asked.
"No, but I chose what Galion served for dessert that night."
"Reward enough!"
Yes, at the time it had been a great reward, second only to the pride in his father's eyes. "My point is, though I was his son, he showed me no favor. I did not win, until I had won. My father does not give praise or reward to any who has not earned it, even his son."
Tauriel drew a deep breath and acknowledged the lesson with a nod.
"Now let us be off," said Legolas, "or you will be late for your promotion."
The ceremony was brief and to the point. Several wardens were promoted that day. A handful of new apprentices graduated to field commissions of their own. Two wardens became masters of their respective watch posts. And finally, Tauriel was elevated to the rank of captain in the guard. The announcement was cheered by her fellow captains and words of praise and well-wishes rang out through the hall when the King bestowed the title on her. She was required to recite an oath of loyalty. It was similar to those she had spoken on promotion to previous ranks, and despite her earlier nervousness, she did not forget the words.
A formal reception followed the ceremony and later that evening Tauriel sought out her king to thank him. She found him in conversation with his son, and when she approached, their attention was drawn to her.
Tauriel bowed formally, "My king. My prince."
"Captain," Thranduil replied, addressing her now by her new title.
"I wanted to… to thank you," she said.
"Your gratitude is unnecessary," Thranduil replied. "You have earned your place in the warden ranks."
Tauriel acknowledged his statement with a nod. "And yet, I might not be standing here now if not for your decision to see to my care here at the palace." She hesitated a moment, about to say more, but the words caught in her throat. Instead she added, "I want you to know, I will not fail you."
Thranduil read easily in her eyes all that Tauriel had failed to say, all that she wished to convey, and more. He knew, also, what he needed to tell her now if he wanted her to become the warrior she was meant to be - one without guilt or shame or doubt.
"Your mother never failed me," said Thranduil. "It was I who failed her, in the end. May you serve me as well as she did."
Tauriel stood still and silent as her king's words washed over her. She fought to hold back her tears. "Thank you, my king," was all she managed and was grateful to flee the second Thranduil dismissed her.
Legolas stood silently by during their exchange. He had told his father earlier of Tauriel's doubts. It appeared now that his father had understood their source better than Legolas. It was clear she still harbored concerns about her mother's banishment, though thanks to the King's command, she knew no more of the details now than she did as a child.
"That was kind of you," said Legolas.
"It was necessary," Thranduil countered.
"Perhaps, if we told her what happened," Legolas added, but was quickly rebuffed.
"It is in the past. Leave it there."
The King parted ways with his son, in search of company who would not ask him to look back. Legolas let it go, as he had every time before. He was torn between believing it was Tauriel's right to know the past and his father's right to forget it. This last little offering his father had provided Tauriel was something, at least, and maybe in time, Legolas could offer her more.
Impudent Dwarf
TA 2941
(39 years later)
"Aren't you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers."
"Or nothing," Tauriel quipped.
After five centuries in the warden ranks, Tauriel knew how to fence. This dwarf was not the first to direct at her some inappropriate jest, but he was by far the boldest. Not the least because he stood on the inside of a stone cage. Few elves would dare risk insulting Tauriel, if not for her rank and title, then for her status as one of King Thranduil's favored subjects. This dwarf, still young by the measure of his beard, had no way of knowing to whom he spoke.
Tauriel was, if she were honest, mildly flattered by the attention. Despite her sharp rebuke, she knew he meant no harm. His eyes had been glued to her since her timely rescue of him in the forest. She had seen that appraising look before in the eyes of one ellon or another, and in one more recent still.
"Why does the dwarf stare at you, Tauriel?"
The anger in Legolas' voice startled her out of her thoughts, as did the air of accusation. "Who can say?" she snapped, matching his irritation with her own.
Her thoughts returned briefly to the dwarf's jest.
"He is quite tall for a dwarf," she said in lieu of nothing, and catching the odd look Legolas cast her, added, "Do you not think?"
"Taller than some," Legolas called after her as she made a speedy exit. "But no less ugly."
Loyal Servant
"Do not give him hope where there is none."
Tauriel nearly collided with Galion in her distraction as she fled the King's study. She managed to mumble an apology before continuing up the stair.
Galion had been waiting for their conversation to conclude before intruding with the King's midday meal. He carried the tray in one hand and set it on the sideboard. He must have sighed over-loudly when setting out the plates, because the King's attention was on him when he turned. He held Galion's gaze a moment before he spoke.
"You have the look of an ellon who has something to say to me," said the King.
Galion clasped his hands in front of him. "I suppose I do."
"Go on, then."
Galion had served Oropher's house since their days in Doriath. He was also the only elf left in Middle-earth who had met Thranduil on the very day of his birth. While perhaps never formally acknowledged, Galion was the beating heart of the palace, of every palace that ever stood in Greenwood. Without him, the gears would grind to a halt. Galion enjoyed his work as steward, truly, and cared nothing for power or influence at court. He did not account himself to be overly wise, nor overly humble, but the one trait he did possess in abundance and would never deny was his love for the family he served now for three generations.
Galion cared enough about Thranduil and his son now to speak, for he saw it as a service to his king. It was a service he rarely offered. "Do you think that was the best way to handle it?" Galion asked.
Thranduil had no need to ask to what Galion was referring. The King knew his steward had been waiting in the hall for Tauriel to depart. There was no question he heard their conversation. "He is my son. I will handle his welfare as I choose," Thranduil replied.
"And yet we both know you would have discouraged her if she was Sindar or Noldor or any kindred besides."
"Your point?" Thranduil asked.
"My point is it was unfair to let her believe her lineage was the cause of your disapproval."
"And what cause do you suppose I should I have given her instead?" Thranduil asked.
"The truth might have sufficed," Galion offered. "Or else, you could have come up with some other cause that did not involve denigrating your people."
Thranduil winced at Galion's pointed reprimand. Part of him wished to defend himself, point out that it had not been he who first suggested that her Silvan lineage was of issue. "No matter now. It is done."
"But it is hardly over."
This counter took Thranduil by surprise. He pinned his gaze upon Galion. "Meaning?"
Galion did not know if Thranduil was merely over-confident or unintentionally blind. Either way, Galion's meaning was the same. "Meaning Tauriel would never have dared pursue her prince. I cannot say the same for your son where Tauriel is concerned."
The steward had watched the slow shift in Legolas's relationship to Tauriel over time – from teacher to mentor to friend. He was not quite sure when their friendship had become more to Legolas, but Galion was certain now that the Prince was in love with Tauriel. He was as sure of it as he had been of Thranduil's love for Caladhel so many years before.
"If she does as I command," said Thranduil, "he will turn away."
"There were greater obstacles in your path, if I recall," Galion countered. "You did not turn away."
Galion knew he had struck a blow, and he regretted the pain it sparked in Thranduil's eyes. They had not spoken of Caladhel since her death, but Galion did so now, for her son's sake.
"I would spare him that pain," said Thranduil.
"And deny him joy, as well?" Galion asked.
The steward did not require a response and the King did not offer one. They both knew the answer.
"Thank you for your counsel, Galion," said the King.
Galion knew with that he and his argument were dismissed. He was glad only to have spoken his piece, in hope that Thranduil would not be too disappointed when he failed.
Not Alone
"Tell me, my friend. When did we allow evil to become stronger than us?"
Legolas had no reason to doubt Tauriel's stated claim for why she had chosen to pursue the orcs. She was right, after all. They were a part of this world. For thousands of years the elves had defended it. To ignore the growing darkness now was cowardice at best, betrayal at worst.
But the doubt which continued to gnaw at Legolas's heart had nothing to do with a band of orcs, or any great threat of evil. It had to do with a dwarf. A dwarf who had made Tauriel laugh as he spun tales from the far side of a prison cell door. Legolas had watched them for close to half an hour. He had been seeking Tauriel out so she might join him at the feast. He had been unable to find her and was told by Elros that she had gone to check on the captives one last time.
Legolas had found them talking to one another. He did not know why she would bother to converse with a dwarf, or why it angered him so. He did not understand from whence this frustration came, nor could he properly name the cause of the resentment burning inside him. Never in all his years had he felt this way.
"Is it evil that moves you now," Legolas asked, "or the dwarf?"
Tauriel was slightly confused by Legolas's question. Not the dwarves, the dwarf. "You mean Kili?"
Legolas nodded.
"I worry for his injury, of course," said Tauriel. "That arrow was poisoned."
"That is not what I meant," Legolas said, willing for her to understand him without the need to say more.
Tauriel studied Legolas' expression. There was fear and frustration in his eyes – anger, too. It was the same storm of emotion that flared not a day earlier when he caught Kili staring at her from behind iron bars. She knew it then, that look, but could scarcely bring herself to name it. How could it be that Legolas had come to be jealous of a dwarf?
"Do you truly believe a bit of flattery would turn my head?" she asked.
"Nothing is impossible," Legolas replied.
Tauriel recalled her conversation with Kili in the dungeon, the story of his mother and the fire moon. "He is a sweet lad," Tauriel said. "Perhaps, if I was a dwarf…"
She left it there, for she could say no more to Legolas without disobeying his father's command.
Tauriel returned her attention to the lake. The orcs had a good head start. They would have to move fast if they wished to catch up to them. To her prince, she asked, "Now, are you coming with me, or not?"
There is No Love in You
Foolish child.
What do you know of love? Can you even begin to fathom its measure? The scale in which to mark its breadth and weight?
In joy.
In passion.
In pain.
I have been love's acolyte, its willing slave – and, too, its victim. And all I would choose to be again. I would trade my life for a promised glimpse of that light. That is love, and yet you would stand there and deny me my full measure.
Final Oath
"If you harm her, you will have to kill me."
His son's words would not cease echoing in Thranduil's mind. The battle was won, or nearly so, but all he could think about was reaching Ravenhill and finding Legolas alive. He had to be alive. Thranduil refused to contemplate anything else. He searched the rooms of the stone tower, now littered with the bodies of orcs. He was nearly to the summit when he found them.
Thranduil's first glimpse of his son was both joyous and terrifying to behold. He sat on the ground cradling Tauriel in his arms. He spoke to her softly while stroking her hair, but Tauriel did not answer. She could not, for even from afar Thranduil knew the elleth was dead. When Legolas finally lifted his gaze Thranduil was struck by the weight of his son's pain. It was a pain beyond words or tears. One Thranduil knew well.
"Why does it hurt so much?" Legolas asked. "I have witnessed more death than I can remember. It never hurt like this before."
"I tried," said Thranduil. "I tried to protect you from it." If only he had noticed sooner how his son's heart had bent towards Tauriel, he would have stopped it. He would have done something more.
Legolas shut his eyes, willing the agony to subside, but it refused to free him so easily. "Is this what it felt like, when you lost her?"
Thranduil did not know what to say to his son's question. What would happen if he told Legolas the truth? Would he throw himself from the tower as Thranduil watched?
He did not wish to answer his son's question, but he knew he had to. "It did," Thranduil admitted, "it still does, every day."
Legolas met his father's gaze once more, eyes wide in horror. "How do you bear it?"
Thranduil had no idea really. He did know he was not the elf he once was or would have been had Caladhel lived. "I bear it because I must. I had you to raise and a kingdom to protect. I could not surrender to despair."
Thranduil clasped his son's shoulder willing him strength enough to hold back the tide threatening to drown him.
Legolas traced the lines of Tauriel's face, setting it to memory and placed a first and final kiss upon her lips. He moved to stand, and his father helped him as he lifted Tauriel from the ground. He carried her down the slopes of Ravenhill and all the way back to the ruins of Dale. There he wrapped her in a shroud and ferried her back to Greenwood where he laid her to rest beside her mother and the rest of her kin. At her grave he laid a stone engraved with an oath, one he promised to honor until his final breath.
I will not let darkness descend.
