Something was wrong, and Thranduil was certain it involved Tauriel.
In the early days, the stone workers sent to Dale would fall over each other for the privilege of reporting the banished elleth's comings and goings. Tauriel couldn't go out on patrol or hunt game in the forest without someone seeing and making a report the King, and he almost felt sorry for her.
The number dwindled to a handful once it was clear Tauriel was doing well enough, and not suffering, as so many of the wood-elves were certain would be the case for a lone young Elf spending the winter months in the ruins of the once great city of Men.
No one had come to report on Tauriel in at least two weeks, possibly closer to three. That was how Thranduil knew something was amiss. He summoned the Master stone-mason to his private study.
"Tell me of Tauriel, Mason. How does our lost sheep fair now that it is nearly to the year since her banishment from her Woodland home and her kin."
The Mason winced, and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Tauriel has been working in the vineyards of Dorwinion for the last month, my Lord. The harvest is larger than expected and they lost a good number of the vinters and their field hands in battle."
"How is her health? Is she well?"
"Oh yes, my Lord, Tauriel is in fine health and even better spirits. She is as beautiful and alive as I have ever seen her."
The Elda realized his thoughts may not be what the King might want to hear and quickly backtracked on the previous statement, "Tauriel is doing as well as can be expected for one who is young and on her own in a city of Men."
"I am not displeased to hear Tauriel is well and adjusting to her changed circumstances." He thought back to the night he left Dale. "Does she want for coin or clothing or food?"
The Mason shook his head emphatically, "Oh no, my Lord, from what I have heard, Tauriel is now quite well off with coin since her visit to Erebor in the spring." His eyes went wide when Thranduil's expression darkened at the mention of the Lonely Mountain.
"Tauriel paid a visit to Erebor in the spring?" Thranduil asked, wanting more details.
"Tauriel, and the son of Bard the dragon-slayer, were asked for personally by King Dain to tour Erebor. The Men with whom we took our meals said Tauriel was given a Dwarf-lord's portion of the treasure and some land on the eastern slope of the Lonely Mountain as the King was grateful she fought beside the Dwarves at Ravenhill. The young Man Prince was given his first sword. In addition, one of the Dwarves visits the palace every fortnight to given the pair lessons in Khuzdul."
Obviously, the Master Mason had no idea what such a gift would entail. Thranduil felt himself growing angry. "Do the Dwarves and Men call her Lady, now?"
"They do, my Lord."
The King's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to relax it. "You've done well, Mason. You may go, now. I will have a pitcher of Dorwinion sent to your rooms, as a gesture of my gratitude."
"You are very generous, my Lord. Such a gesture is not necessary. I would not want to see anything bad happen to Tauriel in Dale. She is young for one of our kind, but it is obvious she is learning her lessons."
Thranduil waved him off, and when he was alone, the King swept everything off his desk in a fit of frustration and temper and let it all smash on the stone floor. He allowed himself to bellow like a wounded bear, because that was precisely how he felt.
The only way Tauriel could have received a title, lands and such a large portion of the gold was if she'd sworn herself to the King Under The Mountain.
Did the little fool even realize the gravity of what she'd done? He was going to find out.
Tauriel was a Silvan elleth of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil banished her, yes, but it was always meant to be a temporary situation. She was still HIS in his heart. He was, and would always be, Tauriel's King, not that hardheaded idiot Dain, or the dragon-slayer King, either.
Thranduil would not let such an insulting action stand. Nobody stole his Elves out from under him. Nobody.
"I know you are still warm," Tauriel told the grapevine, "but tomorrow is Durin's Day. Time for you to think about sleeping for the winter."
"Have you decided to go into winemaking, Tauriel?" King Thranduil asked her, surprising her with his sudden appearance in the fields outside of Dorwinion.
It was the last place Tauriel would ever expect to see King Thranduil, a bit like opening your front door and finding a bear standing on your front porch. A very beautiful, dangerous, silver haired bear who might just be satisfying its curiosity, or caught your scent and was trying to decide how best to eat you.
Ducking her head in a small bow, the banished elf bit her lower lip to hide a small smile. "No, my Lord. I go where there is need of workers, and for this day I am an extra pair of hands in the fields collecting the final grapes of the season before Durin's Day. It is unseasonably warm for being so late in the year, according to the Vinters. I know nothing of farming, but I can feel the energy in the vines buzzing like agitated bees. I do not think they appreciate my taking the very thing they spent all summer laboring to create."
"And you think speaking firmly to the vines will persuade them?" The idea of it amused King Thranduil greatly. "May I?" the King asked, gesturing to the bunch of grapes she was holding.
"Of course, my Lord." Tauriel felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as she handed it to him.
His fingers brushed over hers during the exchange, and Tauriel yanked her hand back quickly, resting it on the nearly full basket slung across her chest. Her eyes followed the course of the first plump grape as it was plucked from the bunch by the King. He turned it over in his fingers, examining it critically, studying the size and plumpness.
When Thranduil lifted it to pop it into his mouth, Tauriel hastened to add, "These are the wine grapes, of course, and they aren't as sweet as the varieties served at table."
"I realize, but I do appreciate your concern for my tongue," the King's tone was both amused and mocking. He chewed it slowly and Tauriel's eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed.
The King noticed, and raised an eyebrow at her. Tauriel winced and turned her attention back to the plant in front of her, "I only have this row left to complete, but the basket is nearly full."
It was an unwise move, putting her back to the King, and not noting the stiffness his posture or the intensity of his gaze on the back of her head. She shook the basket with a little to much force to try to get the bunches to settle.
As he savored the other grapes, he watched her work. "These are quite good. I think I prefer the tartness over the sweeter varieties." He started to examine the leaves and the cut at the stem, poking it with a manicured finger, "I wonder if these could be coaxed to grow in our soil."
The wood-elf gasped loudly, turning around to glare at him with her hands firmly planted on her hips, "Oh, no. Don't you dare! Wine orders, the largest of which is the one for the Woodland Realm, feed all the mouths in this valley!" She narrowed her eyes, to glare up at him, "If you..."
Thranduil was smiling at her, highly pleased with himself for having goaded such a dramatic display of temper from her. His smile was just so uncharacteristic and devastating, all ability for coherent thought escaped her, and left Tauriel gaping at the King like an idiot. Or worse still, one of those simpering, pale haired Sindarin ellith of his Court.
If she'd been less distracted, the former Captain of his guard would have noticed the smile didn't reach to his pale eyes. "You did that on purpose," Tauriel accused, having to work not to sound petulant. "Why would you try to make me angry?"
He wasn't smiling any longer, and Thranduil's voice was low, his words carefully measured. "My Halls have grown colder without the fire of your temper to warm them, Tauriel."
Tauriel turned her back on him, again. This time hands, large and warm on her shoulders, turned her around to face him. When she refused to lift her eyes above his chest, one of those hands traveled across the bare skin of her collarbone and lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes.
"Is this a part of my punishment, too?" Tauriel asked him, her voice as raw as her frayed nerves.
The King's eyes bored into her, searching her soul, "You have not asked why I am here, Tauriel, so I will tell you. There is a rumor going around my Halls. I want to know if there is any truth to it."
"What rumor?"
Thranduil's voice lowered, "What did you receive from King Dain during your visit to Erebor, little Tauriel? Land, a title, a great deal of cursed dragon-gold?" His words caressed her ear, both seductive and terrifying.
Tauriel swallowed hard. "Yes. All of those things, as I'm sure one of your spies told you." She knew the King would learn of it, eventually. The fact that he had people watching her was blatantly obvious to anyone with two eyes.
"What did the King Under The Blasted Mountain make you pledge to him in return?"
"Dain asked little of me, save that I not turn my back on the Dwarves of Erebor, should they need my bow. I would offer the same promise to any King who asked it of me."
"You swore an oath to me, many years ago when you joined my guard, Daughter of the Forest. Are you so inconstant to have forgotten those vows?"
"Have you forgotten you banished me, told me you are not my King any longer, abandoning me when I was at my lowest, my weakest," she growled up at Thranduil.
The King regarded her, thoughtfully. "Five years of banishment is nothing. No time at all for those such as us."
"You have no idea how much you hurt me," Tauriel whispered, but it had nothing to do with the warm, gentle hands on her person and everything to do with the stab of pain his words caused in her vulnerable, damaged heart. "Or do you not care at all for what I feel? You have no right to be angry when I make my own way, or forge alliances with other Kings, my Lord," she spat the words at him, stepping back to put distance between them.
Thranduil grabbed her before she got far, fingers twining in the leather lacings of her vest, and kissed her. Hard. Demanding. Searing her lips with his own. When he released her, they were both a bit breathless as he said, "I have every right, elleth. I am still your King, and I never give up what is mine, Tauriel."
"A lowly Silvan elleth cannot be yours in that way, my Lord."
"My dear Tauriel, you are the second most stubborn, willful, troublesome elleth I have known in my long life," the King stated.
Tauriel ground her teeth together in frustration, burning with indignant rage. "If I am only the second, I shudder to think who might be counted as first, and what became of her. Did she find herself banished, too?"
"Worse. I married her," Thranduil whispered.
The admission to the young wood-elf completely off guard, scattering Tauriel's angry thoughts like leaves swirling in the wind.
"She made me happier than I ever imagined anyone could be, and when I didn't think I could be happier, she gave me the most precious, fragile, terrifying gift a wife can give her husband. Legolas was most beautiful child I'd ever seen. Ethereal and perfect. He is so like her, all sunshine and trust and full of willingness to fight and save the world."
The King wiped at his eyes impatiently with the back of his hand. "A fierce fighter, I let her join me in Gundabad, because it was her home we were fighting for, too. Her child we were protecting, too."
The wood-elf nodded, approving of the sentiment even though Tauriel knew the direction his tale was going. "Yes."
"No," Thranduil rumbled, like thunder in a powerful storm. "It was a grievous mistake. I lost her, and all the love I had in me seeped into the ground with her blood. Had it not been for my promise to her to stay with Legolas, I would have fallen on my own sword and died with her hand in mine."
Such an image was deeply disturbing to Tauriel, she shuddered. "My Lord, why are you tell me this? When we were looking upon Gundabad, Legolas said you do not speak of his mother and keep no monument to mark her passing..."
Thranduil huffed, a soft surprised exhale of air, and a denial. "Legolas is the only monument I ever required, Tauriel. He is the painful, beautiful memorial to what I didn't have enough sense to protect." He looked down at her. "I tell you this because his love for you is possibly the only thing left in this life that truly terrifies me."
His jaw clenched and unclenched, before he added, "His love for you could get him killed; Almost did get him killed at Ravenhill. No elleth, Sindarin, Silvan or any other variety, is going to get my blessing to marry my son without a fight. Legolas is all I have, and if I lose him, every living thing can fall to Sauron, or burn in dragon-fire, and it will matter not at all to me. I will wash my hands of this flesh prison and be glad to enter the Halls of Waiting and be reunited with my heart."
"You mean that," Tauriel said, awestruck and sickened in the same breath. "You mean every word."
"I do, and to your question, I tell you so you will know I never meant to open a wound in your tender, innocent heart with my careless words. You did not deserve it, and I regret it."
Tauriel believed him. "I accept your apology for hurting me, but not for calling me stubborn. You have yet to see how truly stubborn I can be."
"You are so stubborn," Thranduil stated, "the Dwarf King appears to have mistaken you for one of his female Dwarves and not an female of the Woodland Realm, at all." He let her go, taking a step back to put a little distance between them. "As much as I am loathe to admit it, freedom agrees with you, Tauriel. You glow with it, and I begin to doubt you will want such a small world as the Woodlands of your birth and kin."
Tauriel winced, but she didn't deny it, she was proud of her land. "It is a very small estate, really, we are re-planting the conifer trees which covered the mountain in the past on most of my section of the slope, but there is a small pair of newly built farms for growing fruit trees and root vegetables. Being hungry is not something I enjoy."
"I see."
"Have you had news of Legolas, my Lord?" It was a question that nagged the back of her mind every day without fail. It would be good to know he contacted his father and was well. Any other result would be unthinkable.
The King nodded, "I have had two letters. Legolas wintered in Rivendell under the watchful eye of Lord Elrond, and rode North to seek the Dúnedain with Elrond's sons in Spring."
"Merciful Valar, I've been so worried for him." Tauriel's knees weakened in her relief, her head spinning, and she put a hand on the end-post of the fence to steady herself. "And the guilt... You cannot know how guilty I feel to have been the cause of his leave taking."
"He did not leave because of you, Tauriel. In fact, Legolas expressed deep regret for riding off so hastily when you needed his support and friendship. Legolas believes we have a responsibility to cooperate with the other races, rather than ignore them, just as you do. And Legolas is still very angry with me for banishing you and threatening your life and I fear it will take some time before he is willing to forgive me. "
Tauriel didn't want to be reminded of that day, so she hastened to change the subject. "Will he stay with the Dúnedain?"
"This Legolas did not say, at least not to me. There is a letter addressed to you which I had a courier deliver to your rooms."
"Thank you, my Lord."
They walked the length of the row and Tauriel upended her bag into the basket with the rest of the grape harvest, then washed her hands in the basin and took a sip of water from the drinking bucket. "The last boat to Dale appears to be leaving. Will you be taking the boat with me?"
"I must return to the my Halls tonight."
"If there is to be a new treaty with Dale and Erebor, my Lord, will you consider signing it as well?"
Thranduil pursed his lips, considering. "It would depend entirely on what such a treaty would entail."
"Cooperation. The sharing of information and trade goods between Kingdoms. Your continued assistance in the rebuilding of Dale and Esgaroth, though we may be in a better position to offer payment for such work come next spring, if you are amenable to such terms. Nothing more than you have already given."
"I have wondered, were you responsible for the families being moved into the Main Hall during the palace renovations, Tauriel?"
Tauriel's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "I am responsible only for myself. I give no orders in Dale."
"I see," the King said, simply. Not one to let an idea go, he asked, "Does the King of Dale have your ear?"
The wood-elf bit her lower lip, nodding, "Of course, but Bard listens to many people who have ideas he thinks might be useful."
Thranduil smirked at her, "Did you enjoy testing your political skill against mine?"
"That was never my intent. Though, I may have offered a list of suggestions on how best to thwart your building plans when Bard expressed frustration at your orders. He considers me a friend, and there is much honesty and nobility in him."
"I knew you had a hand in Bard's decision. It was a sound strategy with a hint of deviousness behind it. Tell me, are the refugees in Dale all tucked snugly into homes, now?"
Tauriel nodded, "They are. People are very grateful for the hard work of the Elvish stone-masons, and relieved to have homes for their families, again."
She expected him to be angry, or surly. Tauriel didn't expect him to bark a laugh, and grumble, "I shall endeavor to make my orders more difficult to thwart in the future, Tauriel, since you appear to want to try your hand at diplomacy."
"My main concern was getting cover over the heads of the families of Dale, I assure you. We did not expect to win a battle of wills with an experienced, often times implacable, King." Tauriel let her triumph show on her face for him to see. "The joy I felt as a result was entirely a coincidence. Bard and I shared a pitcher of Dorwinion in your honor to celebrate the arrival of second group of masons."
Thranduil grew very still. "Do you intend to write to Legolas?"
"I do."
"Will you encourage his affections, against my wishes and what I have told you of the fate of his mother?"
Tauriel shrugged, "I do not know. I suppose it will depend on what he has written in his letter. My heart is healing, thanks to the kindness of Kili's kin. If you are asking me not to care about Legolas, you would be better served asking me to stop the flow of the ocean tides or make the wind cease to blow. Legolas is the first thought in my mind when I wake most mornings, and the last thought before sleep claims me. The one thing I have found unbearable in my exile is the absence of Legolas' quiet, solid presence in my days."
"I see."
"Legolas is my best friend."
"Yes, I know."
"I am sorry if that does not suit you. Maybe he will find a suitable High Elven wife in Rivendell and you can forget all about me."
Thranduil's expression hardened, "You will not be forgotten, Tauriel. And you can expect another visit from me should I hear you have pledged your service to Bard when he ascends his throne in a few years, if I think the promises you made to me long ago will not be upheld. I took a hand to your backside once before and you were powerless to stop me."
The rolled and sealed letter from Legolas was not the only thing Tauriel found delivered to her rooms at the palace by Thranduil's courier, spread across her bed was the tanned hide of an enormous, and familiar, royal Elk. Such a gift was even more perplexing and devastating than a traveling cloak from the King's personal wardrobe.
Elk skins, especially the hide of an Elk who died in battle in the service of the King, was a gift saved for sharing between members of the Royal family. It was not something one would give an exiled former Captain in the King's guard.
Her fingers went to her lips, still a bit swollen from the kisses they shared as Tauriel wondered just what kind of game the King was playing with her.