Chapter 19: My Heart in Your Hands

If elves would've felt cold the same way as other beings of Middle Earth, Tauriel would've been quite uncomfortable by now. While the water wasn't freezing, recent inactivity, their nakedness and their bodies' natural predisposition to cool themselves down after vigorous exercise has nevertheless encouraged them to abandon the scene of their lovemaking and ease themselves out onto the dry riverbank and cosy together by the flame of the lit torches, her head on his shoulder and her mind largely absent, taking comfort in the carefree togetherness the cave's remote location allowed and in her unlikely position in the arms of Mirkwood's most powerful elf that only days ago she would've never dared to dream of, consciously stamping out every stray thought that took her in the direction of considering Thranduil more than her king and ruler. Think about it she still did not want, what had perspired was too unreal and fantastical. Despite feeling his heart beat under her palm to the same rhythm as hers and palpable goodwill emanate from his being to engulf her, Tauriel still felt a little unsure about his verbatim and fleshed out intentions in bringing their union to fruition as king and queen and then, her own suitability at a place by his side. No matter how whole it felt to be with him, she was sure it would take a while for her mind to catch up with her body and soul.

Trembling and overstrung ripples going through the edges of her fae, Thranduil pulled himself out of his own reverie at the sensation and sighed. He also did not want to face reality and the practicalities of getting the outside world in tune with their union. Stalling, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and and stroked her jaw, his fingers effectively prompting her to raise her gaze at him. "Ci bain sui i in elin," he verbalized the feeling that took over his senses.

"Nîn melog?" She marvelled with a fair amount of incredulity still, despite what every fibre of him was telling her through their connection that no living soul could sever now.

"Gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn," he confirmed, voice indulgent and reverent.

"How? When did that happen?" She fixed wide, intent eyes at him.

"When I let it through the barrier of my heart. Some part of me knew it was there, demanding entrance for many years, but I could not let emotions get the better of me. That was the only way I knew how to function, rule and lead and keep a level head. And then you threatened my barriers with accusations in the middle of a battle when we were losing hundreds of our own kind, Legolas left and you reminded me of what grief felt like and there was no way I could keep from feeling it too."

"It was my fault then, your drinking, your mental state, everything," Tauriel came to the realization, panicking. "I'm so sorry, My Lord," she pulled back, attempting to disentangle in her mortification.

"I do not blame you," Thranduil took hold of her arms so forcefully in his need to make her understand that it bordered hurting, "it happened and I am glad for it. There's no longer this unbearable, huge hole in my heart for you fill it and complement it."

Tauriel swallowed, tears misting her eyes nevertheless, "I shouldn't have accused you so at any case. I knew nothing and was unfair in my assumptions. That you have no love in you is such a preposterous accusation," she recoiled at her own words and shook her head, "forgive me, My Lord," she bowed her head.

"Hey, none of this 'My Lord' falderol," he used his fingertips to tilt her head back up at him once again for a chaste kiss she shyly didn't respond to, "you are my bride, the future queen, of no hokum dwarves." He was probably a little peeved still that that could have happened. "But the elvenqueen."

Renewed, she jumped back as if bitten, "Legolas," she uttered panicky, reason coming back to her bit by bit as she emerged slowly from the cloud nine their lovemaking created, emotions and their togetherness so strong, nothing else mattered or interfered for a while, "what about Legolas! What have we done!" She tried to catch her breath, knowing fine well their bond was irrevocable.

Thranduil pulled back too at that. Not that he hadn't thought about it, but having it verbalised was rather sobering and conversely, he needed a drink. "We aren't continuing with the journey to find Legolas," he established, "I can't say it would be wise or beneficial for either party under the circumstances. It's not like it changes anything between the two of you at any case, you weren't going to bond."

"And you're all right with not going to find him," she summarised the strange calmness of how she sensed he felt about it.

"I have you, don't I?" He rolled to an elbow to lead her in for a deep, honeyed kiss, interrupted by his awareness of her needing an answer, "we need to give him time to find out about the developments on his own and come to terms with it."

"That, might take a while," Tauriel humphed.

"It might not be pretty, but when it comes right down to it, Legolas will always be the heir to the throne and he will not deny his responsibilities to his race and will honour his duties," Thranduil held, "of that, I am certain."

A shiver went through the elleth at his words, "you hint at me losing you when I just got you." Her eyes took him in, her hands claimed his body, holding him against her.

"That is no plan of mine," he assured her.

"You're sure you'll be well?" She persisted, "we left Mirkwood for a reason after all, something that was vital to your well-being."

Impish creases curved the corners of his mouth, "what if I told you that my belly didn't hurt as many times and as badly as I let you believe?"

Tauriel stared at him as if uncomprehending, then her mouth opened to hang before seeing red overcame all other predispositions. She pulled away and sat up, her arms going to hug herself and hinder his view of her naked body, "how much of it was show? You were physically sick and your belly churned, that cannot be make-believe? And why would you do such a thing?" The elleth tried to argue in his favour and quell her anger towards him herself. Not because he was the king and her a mere servant or guard, but because she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I was ill," he confirmed, "I was the slave of alcohol, of slump, anything to get my mind empty and my stomach settled with the next dose and it wasn't working, neither part. But then you came along," he drew a hand up her legs and thighs, where he could still reach and looked up at her reverently, "and you pulled me out of it. It was a new drug I became dependent on and back then, I didn't know if you'd reciprocate. Can't blame an old elf for getting his comforts any way he can," he intoned, while his eyes conversely twinkled with youthful mischief.

Tauriel mellowed a little at his explanation, somewhat relieved that maybe he wasn't as afflicted as she had thought. She still looked at him suspiciously though, "so..." She glanced in the direction of their discarded possessions where the flaskful of brew lay under her leggings. "You think you really could make it without much ill effects at the end of that flask?"

Thranduil pulled closer to her, "you don't have to worry, I promise."

"That is if we are even going any further. We could be back in the Halls in a few days," she summarised.

Thranduil took her hands in his, "no. I think I want to show you the world first."

The End

Glossary:

Ci bain sui i Anor/in elin - You are beautiful as the stars

Nîn melog? - You love me?

Gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn - You hold my heart in your hands