Legolas blinked, searching her face for memories, vestiges of the old friend she had once been. Once the mere sight of her had brought back a wave of feelings, smells, sounds, sensations, etched into their minds after hundreds of years of close friendship.
But now, perhaps after all this time, it felt more difficult, the certainty of remembrance extinguished, spluttering out like a candle in breeze. Yes, if he searched her features, tracing every line and detail, the memories would glide back to him, small scenes and moments which would be forever engraved in her voice, in her gestures, in her touch...
But it was not the same. Perhaps it was the time that had separated them, or the perils they had both faced during the time that they were beyond the sheltering arms of their homeland. Or maybe it was what they had seen, the atrocities beyond words, things that left jagged scars on them, never to be healed.
But all Legolas grew aware of, moment by moment, was that a breach had formed between them, hewing apart those two immortal souls who had once walked side by side. And all he could do was reach out, the tips of his fingers grazing air, and then folding, clenching, lacking the warmth of her skin, only darkness and wind.
He shouldn't have left her.
The elf drew a sharp breath, and his eyes flickered to the ground. Banishment, the worst possible fate for an elf, for Tauriel, whose spirit had been forged by the whipping of wind as she swung from bough to bough, sculpted by the scents of bark and soil , who had been lulled to sleep every night by the melody of trickling water. Yet, as the Battle of the Five armies had drawn to its end, he had left, walked away without the slightest token of farewell. The prince had done as his father had bid him, his mind narrowed to the one task, to escaping the cage which, unknowingly, he had locked himself in. He hadn't begged his father to forgive her, he hadn't stood by her side when she needed it. Legolas would never forgive himself for that.
And it was the most sinister of emotions that had led him to this, the most ashaming of motivators: Jealousy. His heart had ached, throbbed with this indefinible feeling, when a dwarf, a mere mortal, had captured Tauriel's heart with the simple utterance of a few words, while he, the prince, had stood by her side for hundreds of years. That jealousy had never turned to fury, but still he had passively resented the dwarf for so long, rebuking his friend for her betrayal.
That was until he realised that it was no betrayal. He had always known that Tauriel's heart was hers to command, as was his, that it belonged to no one except herself. It had been during the War of the Ring ,when his companions were wrapped in blankets of sleep, that the realisation had come to him, and the emotions he had been harbouring for so long fell to his feet. He loved her, yes, and that meant that those feelings were false, a casket in which to hide his own pain. If he had wanted her, they would have been true. If he craved her love despite the cost to her, they would have been true. But he simply loved her, and that made them as false as the lies of men.
"Not pleased to see you? Mellonamin, Lle lakwenien?* Your presence honours me, I believed you would not…" his voice faltered, crystal gaze searching her face for some taint of resent.
But in stead of bitterness, he found a sudden burst of youth in her visage which made her eyes light up with lively brightness, just as if they were children once more, giggling at an unseemly joke. A prince. Was that all she saw in him? Legolas had once believed this also, but the War had taught him that one is not who he is born to be, but who the world shapes him to be. He may be a prince in part, but also a warrior, a ranger, a friend. And a friend he wished to be to her, naught else. The elf understood that they would never be anything more to each other, and though once he had harboured that hope, now it was a fate he deemed impossible, distant, and which he would not pursue. All he wished for was that they would never be anything less.
Yet, it seemed so. The wind stirred, rustling the fallen leaves around them as Tauriel swooped into curtsy. The kind a subject would give to their king, or a warrior give to their lord. Her copper hair shone under the dying rays of jaded sunlight, a halo of nobility downpoured, submitting to the rule of another when truly it should fly free, unhindered, uncaged.
And royalty was that cage. His royalty.
"Tauriel" he murmured with a start, voice quivering as a bowstring does after fire. "Mani naa lle umien?**" With a sudden movement, his hand flew through the air and alighted gently on her arm with a touch so light it could be mistaken for a falling leaf.
Legolas felt a faint ache in his chest as she suddenly moved backwards, causing his fingers to abruptly graze air, still imbued with the warmth of her sleeve. The elf's eyebrows came down slightly before relaxing, his expression once again set in stone, gaze sweeping the forest ahead as she pointed towards the fortress.
The prince grew suddenly wary. He hadn't thought of this much during his journey, but had focused on memories and the contours of rocks and spear-shaped clouds, not of what lay on the path ahead. Now, he felt a small pang of uneasiness as he pondered about the meeting with the King, the man who was so familiar and yet so distant, a faraway figure encased in ice, who despite having met with him near every day, Legolas knew not a thing about.
However, as his attention flickered onto Tauriel's words, the elf bowed his head and took a step forwards without breaching the proximity that she had clearly set.
"What does your heart desire, Tauriel? If you do truly wish to return, I shall speak with him . After all these years he surely misses your skill, and would rapidly accept your return for the good it would do to his kingdom. Although, I cannot say if his contempt will cease, or if you will ever be in his favour as you were before."
Legolas hesitated, words quivering on his lips, words which would convey that he, too, wished that she would return, that he felt she was the only thing that was the slightest bit familiar in this changed kingdom. She was all he recognised save for the trees and the earth. Perhaps Tauriel was all that was left of the old life he had left behind, and even she was changed, as transformed as he was.
"You may accompany me, if you wish it" he uttered dryly as he began to stride along the path, the fallen leaves rustling in his wake and forming small whirlpools in the growing dimness.
*Are you joking?
** What are you doing?