"I want to learn how to fight."
Thranduil nearly chokes on his mouthful of wine, swallowing hard to get it down before turning to stare at Tauriel. She is looking up at him expectantly, although her eyes are focused somewhere slightly over his head, and he has to take a moment to process what she asked.
"You want to-"
"Learn how to fight. And do so effectively without being able to see," she says. "I am sick of being helpless."
He wonders for a moment what has brought this on all of a sudden, staring down at the girl with his brows pinched as worry tugs at him. Has something happened that he does not know about?
"Tauriel-"
"You are blind in one eye, you could teach me how to compensate."
"Yes, but-"
"Please!"
Her look is earnest, determined. If he refuses her she will likely seek lessons from another, with or without his permission, and so he concedes with a sigh.
"I will not be sending you into any fight of any kind, no matter how mundane," he warns, but she nods.
"I know. And I would not ask to join any fight. I would be a hindrance. However, should I find myself in trouble, I do not want to have to rely on others to rescue me. I will not be helpless. Not again."
Thranduil can only stare at her in growing despair.
He wants to tell her that she will never need fear that, that he would never let harm come to her, but her face is set and he knows that she will not accept that answer. After all, despite his efforts he could not spare her the heartbreak of losing her dwarf. Or the loss of her sight.
With another sigh he sets his goblet aside.
"It will not be easy."
"You said that about being your assistant as well. I will manage."
"You will likely never fight as you once did."
"I understand."
"I will only be training you on my terms, and if I feel it is too dangerous I will not allow it to continue."
Here she hesitates, looking for a second like she will argue, but after a moment of deliberation she nods.
"I agree."
"Very well. I will look into the matter. Next week, if scheduling allows, I will begin training you to fight."
"Thank you, My Lord," she breathes, her tone mixed relief and excitement.
Thranduil hums a note of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, but cannot stop the feeling of worry that coils low and heavy and cold in his stomach.
She is not wrong. The world is a darker place, with only more darkness approaching every year, and being prepared for the worst case scenario is far better than winging it when the time inevitably comes. But the thought of putting a weapon in her hands and sending her up against an enemy that she cannot see chills him to the bone.
It was bad enough watching her and Legolas run into the fray of battle; finding her afterward in tears up on Ravenhill, sure that he would have to watch her fade to nothing in her grief. Preparing her to fight blind will cement the fact that he cannot keep her safe, no matter how he wishes to.
It means that he will fail her again, and when that time comes she will either have to save herself, or he will watch her die.
His thoughts drift for a moment to Legolas, and he feels the familiar stab of guilt that accompanies the boy's absence. His son is another constant worry - somewhere over the Misty Mountains and without so much as a letter sent home to say he arrived safely. Elrond will take care of him, of this he has no doubt, but the Lord of Imladris is far from omnipotent, and cannot be at the boy's side the whole time he is there. Thranduil tries not to let the fear for Legolas overwhelm him, but at times it feels that if he does not have his son where he can keep him safe, he will go mad with worry. Legolas is all he has left of his wife aside from some cold gems, and if anything happened to him, Thranduil would never forgive himself.
Perhaps he should write to Lord Elrond, just to check in. Make sure Legolas arrived whole and hale. His son can be so forgetful, it's a wonder he hasn't lost his head clear off his shoulders...
Movement from Tauriel interrupts his thoughts, and he glances down as she lets out a soft, sad sigh. Making a note to write to Elrond later, he forcibly clears his mind and refocuses it on the nearer of his two worries.
"Tauriel?"
"I will not be able to use my bow, will I?" she asks softly.
Her expression is as dejected as he's seen it in a while, and Thranduil looks down at her for a moment, considering. It is not impractical that she use a bow, as she did when she was lost in his garden - listening for her enemies' approach. So long as she has someone to confirm her targets before she looses an arrow, there should not be a problem. Her accuracy in hearing will certainly be of use to her for that.
And, more importantly, a bow will keep the enemies she is fighting at a distance.
"I don't see why not," he says at length.
She looks up sharply, her eyes wide, and he smiles. Thranduil reaches to smooth a stray hair from her face, tucking it back behind a pointed ear.
"Cheer up, little one. We may teach you to use a bow yet."