Epilogue
The survey crew led King Thranduil through a narrow pass between two snow capped peaks of the southern Pelóri range and into the wild forest beyond which stretched unbroken and untamed down to the western coast of Aman.
This was where they wanted their King to build his new Halls. Hyarmentir was but one of the tall mountains further south in the spine raised to protect Valinor from invaders. Now, they would offer Thranduil's kingdom natural protection from the rare coastal storms in the East.
Thranduil liked the way a branch in the Mountains of Defense stretched west to create a nearly isolated wedge of land separate from Valinor, Eldamar and Avathar, but for a small strip of land along the coast.
Yes, he nodded to himself, this is a place he could work with, shape to suit the needs of the Woodland elves. "Did you scout the western coast for natural harbors?" Thranduil asked the leader of the survey team.
A harbor city, to match the one Tauriel built in northern Avathar, would serve them well.
"We did, my Lord. There is such a place a short distance further south."
"Excellent."
Thranduil's other concern was the receptiveness of the forest itself to having large numbers of his Elves moving about under the shelter of the green canopy. He approached a stand of trees and placed a hand on the bark of a massive trunk. A smile formed, briefly, as he felt the tree respond to his magical query by trembling like an eager virgin after the wedding feast. He repeated the touch on a few other varieties of trees, and found them equally responsive to his magical caress.
The forest welcomed his people to dwell within its embrace, but to his surprise, Thranduil discovered his touch was not so well received by the stone of the mountains. The very ground itself had a strange, uncomfortable vibration to the energy. Thranduil picked up a large stone and hurled it at the mountainside to his left in irritation.
"This area is an excellent choice for a new Woodland Realm," Aulë assured him, appearing out of nowhere at the edge of the trees to his right.
Thranduil was not so sure and his brows drew down in concern. "I don't feel the firmament beneath my feet to be as welcoming as the living things of this land. It is as if they are at odds."
Aulë smiled sheepishly, and looked a little guilty. "It is not the earth which is unhappy with your presence, but those who dwell beneath it."
The Kings eyes widened at the revelation. "Do you speak of Dwarves? In Aman?" His voice was breathy with disbelief.
"My Halls are on the other side of this branch in the Pelóri, they are deep under the very tallest mountain. The soul of my Dwarves dwell in that place, and in my Halls they can take physical form. I put them to work, for laboring with their hands and creating things from the Earth is what makes them happy and heals their damaged souls." He backtracked to correct himself, "Most of them are happy. I have a few who prefer to exist outside of my Halls as pure spirit."
Ghosts.
Thranduil winced.
"The forest is haunted?"
"No, not this particular stretch of land. A few of the more stubborn of my Dwarves are aware you are here and it is merely their distant grumbling you feel. This place is yours, if you want it, Thranduil. My children will learn to adjust to life with you as a neighbor."
It would figured he would find a place in Aman and find it teeming with Dwarf ghosts who held a grudge against him.
"Is Lady Tauriel with your party?" Aulë asked, deceptively casual.
Thranduil nodded, "She and Legolas are scouting what appeared to be a second possible pass north of the one I was shown."
"Oh good. This could be interesting." The Smith of the Valar tapped his chin, thoughtfully. "There is one sure way to quell the sons of Durin who are raising objection to your Kingdom being built so close to my Halls."
"What would you suggest?"
A smile spread on the Vala's face, "Treat with them. Clear the air, and make a case for establishing a new Woodland Realm in this valley. It is not necessary, of course. You and your people are alive, and Aman is your home." After a moment, he laughed, "There is one son of Durin who would like to speak with you, and perhaps he could use his influence to intercede on your behalf."
"Who would stand for the Eldar against his own kin?" The King doubted such a Dwarf existed. Loyalty to kin was a very strong trait in Dwarves.
"I would," a voice said behind him. "If it must come to that."
Thranduil turned and was both surprised and vexed by who he found. "You! Of course," he seethed. "I should have known. You are the one who started all of this. It was for your pitiful mortal life Tauriel abandoned her duties to her people and her King."
The Dwarf Prince with the pretty face had the grace to look remorseful. "Tauriel saved my life three times. Those debts I was not able to repay in life. I have done what I could to make amends since she arrived in Aman."
The King's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean?"
"Young Prince Kili volunteered to be the eyes and ears of the Valar to the people of the Woodland realm. When they had a need, Kili... informed us. Princess Tauriel is quite stubborn and rarely availed herself of the aid we were more than ready to give her."
"A spy," Thranduil spat, mouth twisting as if he'd bitten something rotten.
"Only because I love her and wanted more than anything to see her succeed," Kili assured him.
This the King knew, and in a way he understood. "I watched Tauriel weep over your corpse," Thranduil ground out.
"I know," Kili acknowledged. "I never meant for her to hurt, or get herself banished because of me. If I could have changed what happened, I would have."
A large leather-bound book appeared in his hand, which he readily offered it to King Thranduil. "I thought someday you or her Prince might want a record of those years."
Inside the journal lay at least a hundred sketches, most of Tauriel. They started with her in a loose robe, hair down and hands caressing her swollen belly. Another depicted her holding newborn Tharanden to her breast with a look of tenderness captured so perfectly it threatened to break Thranduil's heart. The drawings progressed sequentially as her child grew, and later sketches depicted Tharanden with other children having adventures in the creche, as well as images of Lady Celebrian singing and Lord Elrond helping Tauriel's twins learn to properly sit a horse.
Thranduil flipped to the most recent sketches and found one of the look on Tauriel's face as she clung to her husband with the half finished docks in the background behind them.
"Tauriel cannot see spirits," the Dwarf Prince told him. "She doesn't know I was watching over her all the years she has lived in Aman, and looking out for her and her children as if they were my own. The boy, Tharanden, can see me. We have been secret friends since he was a small child." His eyes searched the King's face. "If you built your Halls here, will Tauriel and her family come to live here as well?"
"I do not know. Tauriel seems content to live quietly in her hidden city in the forest and make excellent wine. I would hope they plan to visit from time to time."
"We will," Legolas told him, appearing from behind a copse of trees and surveying the scene before him, "I can see you, as well," he told Kili. "Is it only the presence of the Smith which makes it possible for you to have physical form right now?" Legolas took the sketch of him and Tauriel on the docks from his father's hand and studied it.
Kili nodded, "It is. You have come and Tauriel no longer needs a lonely ghost to watch over her. I am in your debt, as well as Tauriel's. I saw how you tried your best to save us from the Orcs of Gundabad." The Dwarf glance toward Thranduil, "I harbor no ill will toward you, Elven-king, for wanting to leave us and spare your people more bloodshed. If I were in your place, I would surely have felt much the same. Dwarves aren't meant to live forever, as your kind are. I am relieved we did not cost you the life of your son."
The Dwarf crossed his arms over his chest. "If you wish to make this land the new Woodland Realm, I will speak with Thorin and Thrain on your behalf, and remind them of a few things. They cannot deny the debt we owe your son and daughter by marriage. Legolas brought my cousin Gimli to live the remainder of his days in paradise. If nothing else will sway them, that fact will."
"Kili?" Tauriel called out. "I was wondering when you would finally decide to show yourself." She moved out of the shadow of the thick forest and into the clearing with the others.
He stared at her, as if she were the ghostly apparition and not he. "Tauriel... You knew?"
"Tharanden told me I had a Dwarf ghost watching over me as soon as he knew what a Dwarf looked like." Her eyes narrowed at him. "I never connected the appearance of all the mysterious items to you, though. Spying for the Valar is unfair and you will cease immediately." She glanced at the Vala, and Aulë nodded. "From the moment we set foot in Aman, I was never afraid. I never felt alone. Thank you for that."
The Dwarf smiled, sadly. "I was not allowed to contact you directly. Mahal made me promise not to, and I didn't want to cause you pain."
"I understand," Tauriel told him.
Kili went to Tauriel and took her hand in his, "Tauriel. You could not have saved me; I was fated to die when I did."
"If I had..."
"No," Kili insisted. "Not even if you got up faster or had a bow. Your lingering guilt pains me greatly," he pressed a tender kiss to her palm, "and I'm begging you to let go of it, all of it, once and for all. What's done is done. The past is cast in stone and unchangeable. My new existence is good, really, it's not bad being a ghost. I can wish myself anywhere on the island. My brother and I have been tormenting Gimli for months. Just like old times!"
To Legolas, he said, "Keep the sketches... as a gift. Those are the best ones of the lot, but there are many more."
"Thank you." Legolas nodded, accepting the book of his family's adventures with grace.
Thranduil could see the change in Tauriel's whole being when the weight of her burden was lifted, and he couldn't let the moment pass without comment, "How can one lone Dwarf Prince cause so much trouble?"
Aulë laughed and nodded his agreement. "You should try having a whole mountain full of them drinking and singing and carrying on decade after decade."
The King cringed.
"Not all of the items come from my Dwarves. A good number also come from the Eldar spirits which dwell in the Halls of Mandos. They have been equally eager to render aid to their newly arrived kinsman."
To the Smith, Thranduil began, "The forest here is open to being shaped to suit my people's needs. Even now I can feel the sleepy threads of magic reaching out to me, calling for me to bring more Eldar here. This is where we will make our home." He considered the possibilities and choices other rulers made in Middle Earth. "King Thingol built his Halls underground when he was given a choice; Celeborn and Galadriel built their city on talans high in the trees. Lord Elrond built Rivendell high in the pass of a river valley. My father modeled our Halls after his memories of life in Thingol's court." He gestured to a long line of mountainside to his right. "The forest city you gifted to my people combines the stone of the mountains while leaving the city open to the sky. My people find it the best possible arrangement."
"It is not a difficult thing to build," the Smith of the Valar assured him. "No skills are required beyond that which are used in building a port, and it is far simpler than digging an underground city."
"Ships will begin arriving much sooner than I expected," Thranduil confessed.
"Then it is a good thing we are willing to help," a deep voice rumbled.
Thranduil's head whipped around to see Thorin Oakenshield had appeared to his left, flanked by his other nephew and a group of Dwarves with familiar faces, the sons of Durin and members from his company, obviously. "I threw you in my Dungeons," the King reminded him.
"As any sane King who faced Dragon Fire before should have the right to," Thorin told him, with a small smile. "Mahal knows," he nodded to Aulë, "I wish Bilbo Baggins had never stolen the keys to those cells. It wasn't my nephew who started all of this and deserves your ire, the blame falls squarely on my shoulders." He bowed his head to Thranduil. "I hope you will come to forgive me for those you lost in battle because of my greed and shortsightedness. It would be an honor for myself, and my kin, to repay a small part of our debt by assisting you in building the Halls for a new Woodland Realm." He looked to the Smith, for both confirmation and permission.
Thranduil frowned. "Is such a thing possible, my Lord?" His eyes found the Smith's.
"It is if Manwë is amenable to the idea," Aulë confirmed. "I fear the Elves in the Halls of Mandos will wish equal freedom to assist you, and Mandos will grumble, but a healthy dose of competition can only help to speed the process along. They are your Halls, as I have said. Do you want help from the sons of Durin?"
Thranduil could feel the collectively held breaths of his people, the Dwarves, and even the trees. If the trees were hanging on his commands... How could Thranduil possibly fail?
With a regal nod, the King said, "I accept your apology, Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. I will also accept your aid in the construction of my Halls on this land. Many things are made new to me since arriving here in Aman, and someone recently reminded me that different points of view are important, especially when a situation requires growth and evolution."
"Sounds like a wise man," Thorin agreed.
Thranduil laughed, "Or an even wiser woman."
"I've always found the females of my race to be the keepers of the majority of the wisdom."
"I think it is true of all races. The Eldar are no exception."
Thorin's eyebrows raised at the confession. "Why do we bother with Kings, at all, if we would all be better off handing the crowns to them and sitting down to enjoy a mug of ale?"
"I shall have to ponder such a profound mystery while I drink my goblet of wine and gaze at the stars tonight," Thranduil laughed, a true laugh and one he couldn't remember experiencing in more than a hundred years.