When Thorin Met Tauriel – 4
Tauriel's legs wobbled under her as she retreated to the small jailer's nook. She sat down just in time because a moment later Sethiel stalked in, flanked by several gorgeously robed courtiers and a troop of archers. Looking imperious in a splendid new cloak, the archer ignored the scuffling and shoving behind him as his entourage crowded into the small space.
"The prisoner is to be brought before King Thranduil," Sethiel announced.
To annoy him, Tauriel leaned back in her seat and nodded toward Thorin. "There he is."
Sethiel frowned impatiently, which lightened her mood a little. He was a pompous idiot. But what did the new cloak signify? Apparently Sethiel had been currying favor with someone. Well, he might as well get on with what he'd come to do—she couldn't stop him from taking Thorin away.
She wasn't going to look at the dwarf. Wasn't going to think about him. As far as anyone knew, nothing had happened. Nothing.
Thorin sat in his cell looking especially rock-like and inscrutable. How could he have been so warm and alive just moments ago? She crossed her arms and gazed down at the floor. They hadn't just...No. Nothing had happened. Perhaps she could just die right now, and never think about "nothing"again.
She kept her eyes averted as the archers removed Thorin from the cell, bound his hands before him with an excessive quantity of heavy chains, and marched him out of the dungeon. She didn't think he looked at her, but a weight seemed to press down on her heart after he was led away. She ignored it.
Sethiel brought up the rear. Once the others had passed through to the corridor, the young archer turned on his heel, making his cloak flare out dramatically. Then he stopped and turned back to her. With a mocking bow, he said, "Oh, and Captain, the King requests your presence as well."
He left, his cloak punctuating his exit with a flurry of flourishes and swirls. Tauriel sighed and took her long gray cape off a peg on the wall. The Throne Hall of the Elf King was usually cold, and the cape would keep her warm, as well as dress up her plain uniform. Also, she thought sourly, she might need it to make dramatic gestures with—it seemed to be the thing to do at court these days. She closed the cape at her neck with a silver leaf pin, one of the few jewels she'd managed to keep when everything—home, family, friends—had been destroyed by the dragon's fire so many years ago.
It had been many years after Smaug's arrival, but the dragon had still emerged from time to time to hunt for food. Destruction and death were just a side entertainment for the evil creature, and the virulence of the attacks seemed to vary depending on its moods. Tauriel's entire village had been wiped out, burned to the ground for no better reason than a dragon's fit of pique. Only she and her sister had survived, with nothing of their own but Tauriel's bow and quiver, Tuviel's basket of fresh-picked berries, and the clothes they stood up in.
And so the two of them had made their way to the community of elves surrounding the King's palace, where Tauriel had done her best to provide for herself and her little sister, first working as an archer and gradually rising to become Captain of the Guard. Meanwhile, Tuviel had blossomed into a graceful young beauty, too headstrong to listen to her older sister's warnings that those such as she were the natural prey of courtiers.
Chances were good that Tauriel would see her sister among the nobles who clustered around the King. She hoped they would both be pleased with what they saw of one another—no matter how different they had become, they were still family. It would always be just the two of them against the world. In the end, they had no one else.
Tauriel adjusted her daggers, and strode out of the dungeon.
In the Hall of the Elf King, a crowd of courtiers in bright robes and flashing jewels sat on low benches or lined the walls, laughing and chattering like colorful summer birds. Great braziers burned in the corners of the vast stone hall, shedding light but little heat.
Thranduil, King of the Elves of Mirkwood, sat on his throne on a richly-carpeted dais. His plain gray elven robes made him look mild, but the slender silver band on his brow was set with a sparkling crystal at the center, gleaming like a wicked third eye.
Before the dais stood Thorin, looking defiant and oddly regal despite his hands loaded down with chains. He was glaring at the King. Tauriel suppressed an impatient growl. Stiff-necked, quarrelsome dwarf. This audience would go much, much better if he weren't determined to fight everyone in sight.
The King noticed Tauriel immediately, and with a slight jerk of his head, indicated that she should take a place at his right side. She obeyed, standing at attention, looking out at the assembly and watching the King out of the corner of her eye.
On the King's left stood Sethiel, his bow in his hand and an arrow nocked. Tauriel frowned. Who was the fool going to shoot at here, in the Hall? She glanced around and saw several more archers scattered along the edges of the crowd, their bows drawn and arrows pointed at Thorin. Uncivil behavior, indeed! The King didn't seem to notice.
She was wondering how to point out to the King that his archers were threatening a bound prisoner who, so far as anyone knew, had done nothing wrong, when her eyes were caught by a sudden agitation among the courtiers. A beautiful dark-haired elf woman had flung her hand up, and the gems on her bracelet had caught the light. She was holding something in her raised hand, and the handsome courtier at her side was trying to take it from her. Laughing, she evaded him for a moment and then allowed him to recover his prize.
Tauriel caught her breath. It was Tuviel. Her younger sister, dressed in jewels and finery, sat beside Ruthien, that snake, that corrupter. Tauriel tensed her muscles, ready to move, but at that moment the King spoke.
"So, dwarf," the King began.
"My name is Thorin, your Majesty."
Tauriel rolled her eyes. How could he turn such simple words into an insult? And why didn't he have better sense than to antagonize the King?
"Ah. One mystery cleared up. But the greater mystery remains." The King tilted his head to one side. "What are you doing so far from your rocks and tunnels, Thorin the dwarf?"
Several courtiers tittered in appreciation.
Thorin's beard jutted out. "Passing through, your Majesty."
"And where are you going? For what purpose are you passing through Mirkwood?"
"Nothing and nowhere important, your Majesty," Thorin said. "I'm just an unfortunate traveler who lost his way."
Tauriel flicked a startled glance at the dwarf. Someone should have told him long ago that he couldn't deceive a blind squirrel with that fake and syrupy tone of voice. Deception was not natural to him at all. Grumpiness, irascibility, bluntness, honesty—these were the qualities he possessed in ample measure, along with a certain wry sense of humor. But he was a terrible liar.
"The other dwarves—my companions," Thorin asked. "Are they well? I haven't had any news of them since we were lost in the forest."
"You and the others attacked my people without provocation!" Thranduil declared.
"We were starving, your Majesty," Thorin shot back. His eyes glittered with anger. "We simply meant to ask for food. We didn't mean any harm."
"You were starving because you ventured into Mirkwood—when anyone would know that food is more plentiful outside of Mirkwood," the King countered. "Anyone would know that jobs for wanderers are more easily to be found outside of Mirkwood. Everything an ordinary traveler could want, can be had outside of Mirkwood. So, I ask again. What are you doing in Mirkwood?"
"We lost our way—"
"The truth!" Thranduil thundered. "I will have the truth out of you, by the Valar!"
"My business is my own."
"Truth!" roared the King.
A flicker of movement at the corner of Tauriel's eye made her turn her head. Sethiel had raised his drawn bow and was pointing it at Thorin. Aghast, Tauriel looked to the King for guidance, but he was fully engaged in his battle of wills with the dwarf. Her eyes skimmed the room, and she saw that the other archers had all raised and drawn back their bows.
A dozen arrows were pointed straight at Thorin's unprotected heart. If he didn't answer the King, they were going to kill him.
"My liege," Tauriel barked sharply.
The King turned to her. "Do you have any information to share about the dwarf's intentions, Captain?"
She hesitated. "No, but—"
His eyes still on her, the King made a brief gesture to Sethiel. The archer nodded, and drew his bow back even tighter. He aimed his arrow in a slightly different direction, pointing somewhere behind the Thorin.
Tauriel glanced around the hall. All of the archers had changed the direction of their aim. For a moment, she was puzzled. They would never hit the dwarf at that angle. Instead, their arrows would shoot directly into the crowd of courtiers.
She followed the likely path of their flight with her eyes until she reached the end point. Icy terror splashed through her veins.
The arrows were all aimed at her sister Tuviel.
"Captain?" The King's voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance. "Any comments?"
Her sister was going to die. Blackness was swarming at the edge of her vision, and she struggled to breathe. Everything slowed to a crawl. Ages passed as she looked up at the King's faintly mocking face. Eternities bloomed as she fought to think of something, anything to say. What could she do? Unless she spoke, her sister would be dead, pierced through the heart, killed right before her eyes.
Tauriel drew in a breath. "The dwarves are planning to kill the dragon Smaug and retake its treasure for themselves."
The Hall erupted with shouts and cries as the courtiers rose to their feet in consternation. The arrows wavered and then fell as the archers pointed their weapons to the ground. Her sister would live. Tauriel's knees almost buckled under her with relief.
"Lies! She lies!" the dwarf's deep voice boomed, drowning out the uproar that Tauriel's words had provoked. "Wicked deceiver! I tell you, she lies!"
"Do you deny the Captain's assertions?" The King's voice sounded cool, almost smug, despite the chaos around them.
Tauriel couldn't look up. Her entire body revolted against what she'd done—betrayed a friend. For Thorin had been her friend. No matter that they were strangers, aliens, from different peoples, their souls had touched. Together, though they were both trapped in a jail, they had escaped loneliness. And now, that friendship was lost. She had revealed something that she knew he intended to keep secret, and he would never forgive her. She was alone once more.
"I deny it all!" said Thorin furiously.
"Do you have some other explanation, some other reason, for your presence in Mirkwood?"
"Not another word will I speak," Thorin said in a quiet growl more deadly than any shout.
"Very well," said the King. "Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years."