She had been desperate to save Kili, the young dwarf who was full of life and love, who held his mother's dearest plea – to go home safely. And as she held his lifeless body in her arms, guilt wrecked her, because he was dead for trying to protect her because he loved her.
Her heart broke for him, as she mourned a life lost too soon, to an evil that should not exist. She mourned for his mother, whose devastation she herself had experienced as she had ran into the hall only to see the three lifeless bodies of her only family. Tears flowed freely as she sobbed over Kili's body, the emblem of all that was good in this world, yet lost to the darkness that plagued them.
She sensed Legolas' presence, as she cried. A part of her longed to seek solace in his arms, but that was a weakness that would do neither of them good. She had betrayed her people and her king, and he was destined to lead the woodland realm as future king – a good king he would be. Her path must depart from his in order for him to return where he belonged, for she had her own mission to fulfill.
She had to return Kili's talisman to his mother, and then what? Seek her forgiveness? Bear the brunt of a grieving mother's fury? Perhaps, she knew not.
But after that, she would battle the evil that had robbed them of all too much. For in her heart, she knew that there was no going back. She would reap no satisfaction from fighting a losing battle by only dealing with the spiders at home.
As she felt Legolas leave, drawing the conclusion she knew he would draw, she let herself cry for a love that was not meant to be.
It was to this very scene that Thranduil arrived, as his young captain weeped over the dwarf. Offering an olive branch, he said, "I am willing to overlook all that has happened… Captain."
"I have obeyed your orders in all but one, my lord," she said numbly, "I… cannot return. Not after all has happened. Not after I have hurt the one person I never wish to."
Thranduil paused at the word "hurt". It was odd for Tauriel to say hurt when she was grieving over someone that was dead. Unless…
"You love my son," Thranduil whispered as he came to a conclusion that shook him.
"If this is love, I do not want it," Tauriel cried as she looked up to her king. "Take it from me... please!" A tear rolled down her cheek as she bent over Kili's body.
"Why does it hurt so much?"
Thranduil gazes at her with sorrow, and even remorse. "Because it was real."
She looks up in surprise. And for the first time in her memory, she sees her king, as he really was, no kingly mask of control or arrogance, but just an elf that had endured far too much pain. For the first time, she sees his fatigue, not from the lines in his face – for he had none – but in the shadows of his eyes.
"I would never have said those words to you had I not thought you indifferent to my son," Thranduil sighed. "To me, there is no distinction between Silvan, nor Sindar elves. There is only the Woodland elves, the very elves to whom I have a duty to protect."
Tauriel fell silent, and pushed back the bitter feeling of regret. "Thank you, my lord. But it makes no difference now, I cannot go back. For a different purpose calls me now – I will not be a good Captain of the Woodland realm. Because I will not be able to place the safety of my own people first and foremost. For that, I have failed my people. Feren will be a good captain."
"Where do you go from here?" Thranduil asked, for a moment bemused, yet saddened, by the very same conclusion both his son and captain, ex-captain, had arrived at.
"I will return Kili's talisman to his mother," she replied, "and after that, I know not."
Unbeknownst to her, Thranduil gives her a similar advice to which he had just given his son but a while ago, "If you find yourself in question of a direction, go north. Find the Dunedain. There's a young ranger amongst them whom you should meet."