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Beneath the Stars
TWO
Early the next morning, Tauriel roused herself and prepared herself for her coming journey. She had rested in the ruins of Dale, alone, curled up on a spare blanket given to her by King Bard. The people of Esgaroth were camped elsewhere in the city. Tauriel's resting spot faced south, away from Ravenhill. She couldn't bear to look at that place so soon after...
She blinked, trying to focus on other things. What little possessions she had—her sword, daggers, clothes, and a new bow, another gift from King Bard, who had pitied her situation—were packed into a bag in a matter of minutes or else sheathed and ready to be carried with her. In her pocket was a lump where Kíli's promise stone hid.
She walked down to the edge of the city, her face calm and composed. She stopped, staring out at the Lonely Mountain. Three small figures made their way across the plain between Erebor and Dale, their steps steady and slow. Dwarves.
Tauriel leaped down and strode over to meet them. One was Balin, the old dwarf. The other two she vaguely recognized from their imprisonment in Thranduil's halls, but she did not know their names. One had a thick red beard, the other a black one and a bald head. Neither looked very happy to see her.
"Friend," Balin greeted her as the dwarves approached. She nodded in return. The red-bearded one snorted, and the bald one scowled. Clearly, they did not share Balin's sentiment.
"I am Tauriel," she introduced herself to the other Dwarves. "Balin invited me to journey with you to the Blue Mountains."
"He did not explain well why," Red-beard growled. "Your foolish pining after Kíli is no excuse to bring an elf along—"
"She was there when he died," Balin said, his voice mild yet stern. "Dís deserves to hear the whole story."
Tauriel took the stone out from her pocket and showed it to Red-beard and Bald-head. "Kíli gave this to me on the shores of the Long Lake. It was his mother's." She fought to repress herself from adding an irritated jibe. She did not like the look Red-beard was giving her.
Bald-head took the stone from her, turning it over in his hand. He grunted, then gave it back to her without comment.
"Must she come with us, Balin?" Red-beard asked the old dwarf, his mouth twisted in disgust. "Could we not take the stone and the story and go alone ourselves?"
"Let her come, Glóin," Bald-head interrupted. "She grieves as we do, and could doubtless tell the tale better than I. She's the only one who witnessed Kíli's death."
Balin nodded sternly to Red-beard, adding his agreement. Red-beard gritted his teeth, but told Tauriel stiffly, "Very well." After a moment's pause, he added, "I am Glóin, son of Gróin."
"And I am Dwalin, son of Fundin," Bald-head said. "Balin is my brother."
Tauriel inclined her head slightly. "I am pleased to meet you," she answered, her voice empty and monotone.
"Let us be off!" Balin declared. "It is a long way to Ered Luin, though we may take quieter roads this journey."
"Thank Mahal for that," Glóin grunted, beginning to walk after Balin. Tauriel waited until each of them had passed her before taking a deep breath and beginning her long journey with a single step.
The small group hiked over the hills and around the Long Lake that day, before setting up camp on the shores of the lake. Tauriel laid her blanket several feet away from the fire where the dwarves ate noisily and mumbled to each other in Khuzdul. She nibbled on some lembas bread, not hungry, then rested for a short while.
When she roused, it was still dark. The fire burnt low, the dwarves all asleep. It was unwise for them to not leave a watch, she thought with a frown. Then again, she reflected, after the battle, not many dangers had survived.
Tauriel sat up and crawled nearer to the flames. She poked at the glowing embers with a twig, trying to stoke it up a little. Beside her, Glóin snored in his sleep, the noise echoing throughout their camp. She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching in an infant smile.
She wondered if Kíli had snored.
The thought dampened her spirits immediately, and she decided to take a walk. Tauriel wandered the shores, looking out on the empty husk of the Lake-town, charred and floating in the icy water.
Somewhere in that lake lay a dragon's corpse, cold and empty and fireless. How strange that something so great and bright and evil could be snuffed out by a single arrow, shot by a mere man. How strange that such ruin and death could be brought upon the inhabitants of this land round about in a few days only.
Tauriel remembered facing this lake, watching a boat disappear on the horizon, drawing ever closer to the mountain. Her soul was filled with grief as she recalled the chill wind, the gray morning, the warm touch of Kíli's hands, the smoothness of the stone he pressed into her palms...
Unbidden, she pulled it out of her pocket. She would never forget, never truly recover. This sorrow pierced her very heart, and a wound like that could never fully heal.
She had heard of elves, upon losing their loved ones, wasting away in their grief and perishing. She would not allow that to happen to her. She would not let her sorrow consume her. But still it hurt, knowing she could never go back to her troubled ignorance in Thranduil's halls, nor return to the wakening of Kíli's arrival in her life, or even hope for a future of them together. There was only darkness ahead of her, darkness and obscurity.
Tauriel did not know what lay ahead of her, what she would do after the journey to Ered Luin, but she knew that she would not give into her grief. She would fight, find a purpose again...or at the very least find a rest. Yes, rest was good. Rest...and peace.
She lowered her head, allowing the light, cool breeze to play with her hair. She smelled the clean air blown off the lake and heard the faint snores of the dwarves behind her.
Tauriel rubbed the stone with her thumb, feeling the engraved ruins. It would not be hers for much longer—it belonged to Kíli's mother. She would have to remember it well for all the centuries ahead of her.
With a sigh, she turned around and walked back to the fire. She would keep watch over her new companions as the night died and the day was reborn, as it was clear they could not themselves.
The next morning, the four travelers set out once more. While Dwalin and Balin were for the most part somber, still caught up in grief for their fallen friends, Glóin sang to break the silence, merry and confident.
"I cannot wait to see Nigríd again!" he exclaimed to the other two dwarves. "I can see the Misty Mountains on the horizon, we have traveled far in only two days!"
"It has hardly been one," Tauriel corrected him. "And we must circumnavigate all of the Greenwood before we reach the mountains."
"I do hope we will not have to go through that accursed forest once more," Dwalin said in disgust. "Even Glóin would be hesitant to do so, however much he misses his wife!"
"The path is too dangerous, and we have time now," Balin said. "We will go around. And I would not wish to bring the Elvenking's wrath upon us again."
Glóin chuckled, smirking. "His son in particular was very rude to me upon our capture—part of me wishes to travel the forest just in order to give him some rudeness of my own!"
"He is not there any longer," Tauriel said quietly from the back of the group. "He travels north now. And I could not go back to Thranduil's halls even if I wished to. I am no longer welcome there."
"All the more reason to go through," Glóin muttered. Tauriel gritted her teeth, but said nothing. Doubtless the red-bearded dwarf was only trying to get a reaction out of her with all his jibing. She would not lower herself to satisfy him.
They trekked along the river for the rest of the day. Balin stopped at dusk. Turning round to face his companions, he said, "I am an old dwarf, and my feet are tired. Let us stop for tonight."
"How often you must rest," Tauriel remarked. "We stopped at midday as well. I could walk for hours more."
"You must forgive us for our needs," Balin said, his words clipped in irritation. "It will be like this for our entire journey."
"How long ought it to take, Balin?" Glóin asked. "I am anxious to see Nigríd and Gimli again."
"The journey to Erebor took us months," Balin replied. "We are taking the longer route, to avoid danger, so I imagine we will not be in Ered Luin until midsummer at the earliest."
Glóin scowled. Dwalin bumped shoulders with him sympathetically.
As the dwarves talked amongst themselves, Tauriel stood and stretched her arms, saying, "I will watch over you tired dwarves. The forest is not far off, and there are still evil things in there, even greater foes than the spiders, which thirteen dwarves and a Halfling could not handle until the elves arrived."
Glóin grumbled under his breath, but Tauriel paid him no mind. While Dwalin, at least, seemed to have accepted her presence on their journey, Tauriel doubted the red-bearded dwarf would ever grow to do the same. He was nothing like Kíli—it was strange to think the two were related in any way, whether in blood or in race.
"Very well," Balin agreed. "I will take my turn at midnight—"
"There is no need," she said briskly. "I rested last night and the night before. I am not tired."
"At the very least, eat with us," the kindly dwarf insisted.
"I am not hungry," she said, politely refusing. "Do not make effort to include me. I am happy to be alone."
"Elf-maiden—" he protested.
"You make call me Tauriel, if you wish to make a gesture of kindness," she said. "Now, build your foolish fire. I will watch over and ward off whatever it attracts. Goodnight!"
She stood and walked off a ways, surveying the area. It was going to be a long night.