Legolas didn't know what to feel.

He stepped forward, numbly, as Tauriel stood before him, beautiful, lovely, strong, brave Tauriel, her face framed by her fiery hair.

He was vaguely aware of Aragorn holding Gimli back as he stepped forward to meet her.

"Legolas," she said, her lips twisting into a smile.

"Tauriel."

He could not hold back the wonder, the amazement in his voice as he said her name, and he knew, suddenly, that Aragorn and Gimli both understood, in that moment, exactly what Tauriel meant to him.

He could not care less.

"It has been long since I saw you," she said. "I would have thought your journey would have changed you, yet there seems to be little change that I can see."

"Perhaps we must talk, for you to discover how I have changed in my journey."

"I should think we must."

She smiled again, at him, and he could not help the smile that spread across his face.

They walked together, that day, as the sky fell ever darker around them.

There were still hours to the battle, and the more they talked, the more time he spent with her, the more he could forget how impossible this looming battle seemed.

She was, he noticed, different.

She was not so withdrawn, not as cold nor aloof as she had been for the past sixty or so years. She talked, she smiled, she even laughed; she spoke of her stay in Rivendell and her journey to Lothlorien, she listened earnestly when Legolas recounted his own adventures, from their journey through Moria to their search for Merry and Pippin to their time in Rohan.

She had, he thought, healed somewhat; there was still some sadness in her eyes, sadness and pain that ran deep.

But it was a sadness that no longer overwhelmed her, a pain that no longer haunted her every step.

"I think you would like the Lady Eowyn," he told her, as they wandered through Helm's Deep. "She is a shield-maiden of Rohan, and she does not care for staying behind and staying safe when she could stand and fight – in fact, I believe she resents having to be a woman, at times."

"I've no resentment over my own gender, thank you," said Tauriel, and he caught her smile, and he smiled back.

"What will you do, after this battle?"

They sat on a low stone wall, side by side, staring out over Helm's Deep.

"Will you return to Mirkwood?"

Legolas watched her, closely, for her response.

"No," she said, finally, after a long silence, as she watched the sun sink lower beneath the horizon. "No. I shall not."

"What will you do, then?"

Tauriel found herself clasping her hands together, still looking straight, not looking at Legolas. Legolas, good, kind Legolas, who had always been there for her.

"You have always been at my side, especially in the past years," she said, quietly. "It is only right that I now do the same for you. I will follow you, and fight with you, in whatever battles that are to come."

"Tauriel – "

She turned to face him then, glaring fiercely at him.

"Do not think to change my mind, or to order me otherwise," she said. "You know that I would not listen."

"Do not do this only because I have never left you, these few decades."

He had a feeling that she knew what his feelings for her were – yet he would not, could not, speak out.

He could not tell her that he had stayed by her, that he would always stay by her, because he loved her, that he would always love her, and that she was a part of him that he could never abandon.

"I do this because you are my friend."

Because you are my friend.

"You still suffer from that battle all those years ago," he said, not wanting to name the battle, not wanting to name the loss that she had suffered. "I could not let you face battle after battle once more – "

"This is not your decision to make." She had turned back away from him.

In her mind, she could still see the battle, that battle sixty years ago, could still hear the cries and howls, could still see him falling –

"This is mine."

Legolas thought of how broken she had been after seeing Kili, nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, fall; could still remember how he had had to pull her away, how he had had to carry her away from his fallen body and the bloody, ghastly battle –

"Tauriel – "

"What else would you have me do?" she demanded, fiercely, her head whirling back, her eyes staring straight at him. "Would you have me return to Mirkwood, and do nothing, while this evil takes over our world? Would you have me stay safe, to protect myself, when there is evil that can be fought against, that I can fight against? There are things worth fighting for, Legolas, and I shall not sit by and do nothing when I may fight for them!"

"No," Legolas found himself saying, and hardly aware of what he was doing, clasped his hands over hers.

Tauriel raised her eyes to look at him.

"I would have you stay with me, and fight with me, if that is truly what you wish."

The faintest of smiles flickered over her face. "There has to be someone to ensure that you stay alive."

"I have managed it quite well this far."

"I do believe that it is the dwarf and Aragorn who have managed that successfully."

"Do you have so little faith in me?"

"I would not like to say."

A throat was cleared.

"Legolas."

Both elves glanced up, sharply, moved away from each other slightly, at the sound of the voice.

Aragorn stood before them, Gimli at his side.

"We must prepare for battle, and we must prepare the men as well," Aragorn said.

Gimli was looking at her curiously.

"I understand." Legolas slipped down from the low stone wall, glanced back up at Tauriel. "I shall see you later."

"I'll be counting," she called out.

"As will I," he said, smiling. "I have been competing with Gimli this journey – not much of a challenge, I am afraid."

"Excuse me," the dwarf barked. "I am right here! And not much of a challenge? I'll give you a challenge, just you wait. I've killed my fair share of Uruk-hai and Orcs this journey, and I'm about to kill many more!"

Legolas chuckled, and Tauriel managed a smile.

"I shall be glad to compete with you as well, Gimli, son of Gloin," she said. "I look forward to fighting alongside you."

"This is the same Tauriel who was once in love with Kili, the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, is it not?"

Legolas looked up, sharply, at Gimli, standing opposite him, not looking up as he glanced over his weapons.

"What do you know of it?"

He knew Aragorn was listening, as the man drew his sword out and glanced over it.

"Kili was my friend," said Gimli. "After his brother, I was closest to him. I was deemed too young to go on the quest for Erebor, and so I stayed behind. But after the battle, after everything that had happened, stories were told, again and again; and one of the lesser-known stories, told only to those who had been close to the dwarves who had perished, was that of Tauriel of the Woodland Realm and her love for Kili of the line of Durin, and his love for her."

Legolas was standing still, his back straight, staring at the wall.

"It must have been a beautiful tale," Aragorn said.

"Beautiful, yes," Gimli agreed. "But tragic and sad, and full of hope."

"Why hope?"

The words were out before Legolas could take them back.

"Hope that there is indeed such a love for everyone," said Gimli. "And hope that there is always the possibility of finding new love; that one cannot mourn forever, but instead keep the death of a loved one in their hearts, and open up their hearts to love another."

"I do not see how their story could have reason for such a hope."

"Perhaps it is because the story has not yet reached its end."

Tauriel.

He wondered where she was, as they assembled on the battlements of Helm's Deep. Surely she was around somewhere, among the mass of elves who had gathered to fight, now standing in straight lines with their bows. Her fiery hair would stand out immediately, a torch in this darkness.

But he could not see her.

And yet - the thought of her there, standing on the battlements, ready to fight, and to keep fighting, gave him strength.

"You could have picked a better spot," Gimli grumbled, from beside him.

A smile flickered over Legolas' face.

Yes.

There were some things worth fighting for, and to keep fighting for, no matter what.

Legolas.

She thought of him, as she stood in her blue cloak, her hands ready to fly to her weapons at a moment's notice.

There had been something, she knew, tugging at her heart when she had seen him, when she had stepped forward to meet him.

She had expected to feel happy to see him, but it had been more than that; pure plain happiness and something she could not describe, overwhelming her, filling her head and her heart.

"It merely means you have the strength and capacity to love again."

To love again.

Could that be what was happening to her?

Or perhaps – perhaps it was merely the thought of Legolas, the fact that he was always there for her, that caused this strange, inexplicable feeling within her?

And an image flashed into her mind; a dark-haired dwarf, smiling so brightly at her.

Kili.

She made no movement; she continued standing upright, lost in thought.

She had carried him in her heart for so long, had retreated into herself at his death. She had never cared much for anyone before that; she had only ever had Legolas, who would train with her and talk with her constantly, who was always simply there.

And then Thorin Oakenshield's company had arrived.

Kili had arrived.

She could still feel the ache in her heart at the thought of him, at his smile, at his cheeky grin, at his reckless bravery. At the thought of his death.

But it no longer hurt as much; it seemed to her that the pain had grown even lesser ever since she had met Legolas.

And yet – would it not be a betrayal of her heart, a betrayal of him, if she turned to another?

She closed her eyes, briefly.

"It is always possible to open your heart to another; it does not mean that you are forgetting the old. It merely means you have the strength and the capacity to love again."

Words that had been spoken to her, more than once.

It was, she thought, so easy for them to be said. But was it so easily done?

Sixty years was a mere blink of the eye to an elf, and yet the past sixty years were some of the longest she had ever gone through.

Her eyes snapped open.

This was not the time for such thoughts.

A fight was approaching, and it was a fight that she was not willing to lose.

All this – all these emotions, this confusion in her heart, these feelings she was so uncertain and unsure of– could be dealt with after the battle.

Provided, of course, that both she and Legolas survived the night.