Chapter III

By the time they reached Bard's house, which had magically survived the dragon's attack relatively intact, Kíli's limp had increased drastically and Tauriel had to help him up the stairs that lead to the house's entrance. She did not mind that at all – while there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them that their little lapse of passion, while not regretted, would not be repeated or mentioned again, they nevertheless seemed to physically gravitate towards each other at every chance they got.

That kiss… Tauriel had kissed and been kissed before, but it had never been like this. Not one kiss she had shared with another elf in her several hundreds of years on this world had ever felt so warm, so real, so… right. Not that that made it less wrong in any way.

For the time being, she had decided not to examine her feelings too closely. What was done was done and she was afraid that if she looked into her heart, she would not be able to go through with her resolution and return to Mirkwood to serve her king.

And yet, as they struggled up the stairs, she could not help but wonder if she was not making a terrible mistake in parting ways with the dwarf that she had formed a bond with. What if they never saw each other again? If she never saw that twinkle in his brown eyes again, never felt his warm touch on her skin?

Elves were immortal beings and as such viewed time and life in a way suited to endure much hardship without despairing. But Tauriel had also seen Elves who had lost hope at some stage during their existence, Elves who had become bitter with regret and anger. What if she would not be able to put those last few hours–those hours that had sparked a flame inside of her that she had not even known could burn–behind her that easily? Life without any hope of gazing upon Kíli's face again, without at least knowing that he was somewhere out there, walking under the same stars as she was, would certainly be a lot … darker. Maybe too dark for her to endure.

Kíli's injury still worried her. She glanced down at him, noting the strained expression on his face. He was trying not show his pain, but she could feel it as if it were her own leg that had been pierced by that cursed arrow. Could she really just let him go on to Erebor? What if he fell ill again? What if his leg slowed him down and he got hurt or… killed?

Panic gripped at Tauriel's heart. She stopped dead, looking at Kíli with a pained expression on her face. He looked back at her in confusion, obviously wondering why she was not moving any more.

She opened her mouth to speak.

"Kíli—"

Don't go. Come with me. Or take me with you. Let us go away together, go somewhere else were no one knows or thinks anything of Elves and Dwarves.

Before she managed to speak any of these words, however, another voice spoke up above them.

"Tauriel. Finally."

Legolas stood at the top of the stairs, his face void of expression.

Tauriel flinched, almost letting go of Kíli, whom she was still supporting. She immediately tightened her grip again, but of course Kíli had felt the surprised slackening of her grip and he frowned, his gaze traveling from Tauriel's shocked expression to Legolas' indifferent one.

"Legolas," Tauriel managed to choke out.

"I see you made use of our time apart to heal the dwarf," he replied, his tone not exactly expressing great enthusiasm about that circumstance.

Tauriel did not reply immediately, carefully weighing her words. Suddenly Kíli pushed out from under her arm and climbed the remaining few steps, clearly trying to keep any signs of pain or weakness from his demeanor.

"Kíli," he said through gritted teeth as he passed Legolas, "the name is Kíli."

With one last glance at Tauriel—a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion—Kíli stepped through the entrance into Bard's house.

Tauriel shifted her gaze back from where Kíli had disappeared into the building to Legolas, trying to gauge his mood.

"Yes," she spoke up in her own tongue, keeping her voice deliberately level. "As you just saw, I did manage to heal him. I also aided in the destruction of one magnificent dragon."

With great relief she noted a tiny hint of a humorous twinkle in Legolas' stern gaze. Maybe her actions had not damaged her friendship with the blond elf as severely as she had thought at first.

"You are aware, my friend," he replied, his face darkening by a few degrees, "that I exited this building several hours ago, thinking you behind me, guarding my back, are you not? So you can probably imagine my surprise when I turned around and realized that you were apparently not going to follow."

Tauriel lowered her gaze, blushing. "Yes, my lord," she whispered, the formal address falling easily from her lips.

"How do explain your actions?" Legolas continued in the same, authorative tone.

Tauriel glanced at him. Standing there at the top of the stairs she saw in him, not for the first time in recent years, the exact image of his father. A prince, a future king—not merely her playmate from her younger years anymore. But most of all, still her friend.

She straightened up, meeting his gaze. "I fear that I cannot," she said, feeling her face grow hot, but standing her ground nevertheless. If she lied to him now, fabricated a rational explanation for staying with the dwarves instead of loyally following him, he would see right through her anyway.

Legolas was the first of them to break their eye-contact, closing his own eyes for a second. Obviously he had hoped for a different answer. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. It clearly did not give him joy to say what he was about to say.

"My father will be more than just angered when he hears of your actions."

Tauriel's shoulders sagged. But Legolas had not finished yet. "I will make you an offer, however. As your friend. Your king will not hear of your actions on one condition."

Tauriel steeled herself, not quite sure if she really wanted to hear what was coming next.

Legolas continued. "You will return to Mirkwood with me without further delay. There you will take up your position within the guard again with one change. I will arrange for you to be reassigned as one of my father's personal guards. Meaning, you will not leave the king's halls unless he does so himself and you will not traverse beyond the boundaries of our land under any circumstances. The defense of our borders will be relayed to one of your fellow guards."

This time it was Tauriel's turn to close her eyes for a moment. She understood the meaning behind his words fully well. You will remain where I can see you at all times. You will not get a chance to do something as foolish as before ever again. And most importantly, you will not see that dwarf and his kin again for as long as you live.

Opening her eyes, she tried to keep them as empty of emotion as possible. To her surprise she found in Legolas' expression not only anger at her actions, but also a hint of compassion. I am sorry to have to be the one to do this, friend, his eyes seemed to say.

Her friend's compassion could however not lessen the impact of his words. Having to remain in close proximity to the king at all times was punishment enough—the fact that she would be forbidden to stray outside on her own, however, was so much worse. Tauriel had never taken well to remaining still in one place. She simply lacked the stoic nature of most other elves who seemed capable of graceful inertia.

But Tauriel also knew that she had no choice other than accept Legolas' condition. The decision to return to her home had been made even before he had made his offer. The one thing that she could do now to make the next few centuries bearable was to mend her friendship with Legolas. Tauriel had never had many friends among the other Elves and after this, it seemed likely that he would be all she had left.

"Thank you, mellon," she replied, trying to keep fear and sadness out of her voice. "If I have angered you, I apologize sincerely. I hope you fared well amidst the turmoil of the recent hours?"

She realized at that moment that during the attack by the dragon it had never crossed her mind that Legolas might be in danger, too.

He smiled, visibly relieved at her immediate acceptance of his conditions. "I cannot claim as great a deed as aiding in the slaying of a dragon, but I did rid this world of a number of other foul beings."

Tauriel forced a grin. "I see." She was glad that there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them not to speak of her insubordination anymore until it would become necessary again.

Without further ado, Legolas hefted his bow, which had been leaning against the banister, onto his shoulder and prepared to set off down the stairs.

At that Tauriel panicked. She could not just leave without saying goodbye. Her punishment, a life of loneliness and regret, she could endure, but at least she had to bid Kíli farewell, had to see him one last time.

Legolas sensed her hesitation and looked at her intently. Finally, he sighed. If his dignity had allowed him to roll his eyes, he probably would have done so at that moment. "We should pay our respects to Bard before we leave," he said instead. "He performed a great service not only to his people but also to our kind when he rid this world of Smaug."

Tauriel did not hesitate and hurried up the last few remaining stairs, not caring if she appeared a little too enthusiastic. She was grateful to Legolas for giving her the opportunity to say goodbye, even if she fully understood what he had been saying between the lines: This is the last time that I will tolerate your friendliness with those dwarves. Say your goodbyes and make sure they are your final ones.