"Regular updates" was such a lie. Here's a chapter as an apology.

Beneath the Stars
TWELVE

Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don't regret
Nor will I forget
All who took that road with me

Tauriel set out for Lothlórien in the middle of winter, one of the worst times to attempt to cross a mountain range of any sort. Still, traveling alone, she made good time. She walked for days on end, not stopping until she was exhausted. She ate only as much as she felt she needed to. She slept little, desiring to reach her destination as quickly as possible.

The cold bothered her some, but being an elf, her clothes kept her warm enough to remain living. It was not an ideal situation. Tauriel wished she had brought some warmer clothes, but there was no turning back now.

The mountains were a lonely place. It had been sixty years since she had last been truly alone. She did not particularly like the feeling. It was nice to get away from the chaos of life sometimes, but Tauriel's busy life back in Rivendell had provided a distraction from dark thoughts which resurfaced now with nothing to deter them.

She missed Losseth. Well, not really. She missed who she had thought Losseth was: a friend, someone she could count on, someone she could love. She missed her companionship, her outlandish theories surrounding whatever the hottest gossip was, her bad jokes, her casual bluntness. But all that had been torn away and ruined by her bigotry. Tauriel couldn't understand Losseth's unreasonable hatred of dwarves. It could really be boiled down to one thing: they were different from her, an elf.

Tauriel sometimes wished she felt the same way. But to her, even strange outsiders like dwarves had always been people. Kíli had walked into her life and proved that. Dwarves like Balin, Dwalin, Dís, and even Glóin had proved that. She couldn't let go of her beliefs, not even for Losseth. So she'd had to let her go, for all it pained her to do so. She would move on, forget her bitterness, sail to Valinor. Tauriel, too, would follow the path life took her, over these mountains and to the forests beyond, reuniting with her old friends—if they would take her back, forgiving her where Losseth could not.

She hoped that the elves of the Greenwood would have forgiven her by now. Legolas had, and she was glad to regain a friend in him. But he had not been her only companion. People like Midhel, her second in command back when she had been captain, Midhel's brother Orelon, and the siblings Glándir and Úrphen, had also been her friends.

Midhel was brave and lighthearted, and could perhaps see Tauriel's actions in a noble light. Her brother was of a like mind. Úrphen and their brother Glándir, she worried about more. Those two were less forgiving.

And what about the people who had raised her after her parents' death? The healer couple Hithwen and Gwelonir, who had given her a home with them for years? Feren, the guard captain before her, who had helped train her and had guided her steps until she was ready to lead?

And what of Thranduil, her king? She had hurt him most of all, disobeying direct orders and insulting him to his face? In their last meeting, she had thought he had forgiven her somewhat, but he had not allowed her back into his kingdom. It had not mattered then, when she had no desire to return, but it would now that she did.

The more Tauriel thought along these lines, the more she felt dark and unhappy. One night, after an exhausting and cold day of travel in the high paths of the Misty Mountains, she lay before a small fire, getting warm. Without anything to distract her, she began to worry until she felt sick.

At last, she forced herself to do something. She was too tired to get up and move about, so she took out Elrond's letter to Galadriel and read it for the first time.

My Lady Galadriel, it read,

I have sent this message to you by a trusted messenger.

Tauriel smiled, feeling flattered.

I know she will have guarded its contents well, though I have allowed her to read them. We have previously discussed sending aid to the kingdoms of men in this War of the Ring.

War of the Ring? Tauriel wondered. What could that mean? Was the object that the Fellowship was trying to destroy a ring?

I have informed my people of my decision. I will send all my people who are willing to fight to you in these coming months, after my lone messenger. Rivendell is a shadow of its former self. My people are leaving these shores. I remain only so long as I must.

I urge you, upon receiving this message, to send a troop of elves to the realm of men. It is time for the elves to fight alongside our cousins, the race of men, once more. I suspect Rohan and Gondor will need support the most.

I wish you the blessings of the Valar.

Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

Tauriel put the letter away. She had known most of that already. The only new part was the phrase "War of the Ring". She was curious as to what it meant, but she did not think she would ask. She would most likely find out when this was all over.

She lay down, trying to get some sleep. She was interrupted suddenly by loud footsteps very close by to her. Instinctively, she shot to her feet, pulling out her knives. Her fire had burned low, but it still shone bright enough for her to make out the approaching figures: orcs.

The nearest one grinned, showing its slimy, jagged teeth. It turned to its four companions and hissed something to them in Black Speech. They rushed at her.

Tauriel grimaced and met them head on. She was still tired, not having rested for very long, but adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her the energy she needed in order to fight.

The first orc attempted to cut her in two with its jagged, rusty blade, but Tauriel was too quick. She blocked its thrust with her left knife, cutting its belly open with her right. It screamed and collapsed into her smoldering fire, effectively putting it out.

But she couldn't rest yet. She spun around to face the other four attacking orcs. Two rushed her from the front, the other two from the back. Tauriel jumped out of their way, throwing one of her knives into an orc's eye. Two down, three to go, she thought grimly, and she only had one knife left.

She sheathed her remaining knife and pulled out her bow, nocking an arrow to it as she backed away from the menacing orcs. One tried to charge her, but she shot it through the throat. Now only two remained.

One lifted a bow of its own. Tauriel ducked as it shot an arrow near her head. The last one hung behind, looking at its fallen companions with fear.

Tauriel scrambled away from the orc with the bow as it continued to shoot at her. It did not have very good aim, but it distracted her enough to stop her from retaliating. She rolled behind a boulder in the snow, taking cover.

As she did so, Elrond's letter fell out of her pocket. She cursed. She could not let the orc touch it!

The orc stopped firing at her hiding spot and stomped forward to the letter. It grunted curiously. Tauriel quietly notched an arrow to her bow, waiting for it to walk into her line of sight.

She saw a clawed, ugly hand slowly reach down to grab the letter and...

Thwap! Her arrow sung through the air and into the orc's outstretched hand. It howled and leapt forward in outrage, allowing Tauriel to shoot it between its eyes.

Now there was only one orc left. She rose, her bow in her hand, aiming at the frightened beast. It looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, then turned to run away.

Tauriel took careful aim and fired into its calf, effectively stopping its retreat. She needed to find out how these orcs had discovered her, so she could not kill it—yet.

She picked up the letter lying on the ground, wiped a spot of orcish blood off the envelope, and stuck it in her pocket. Then she raced over to where the injured orc had collapsed on the ground, still trying to claw its way through the snow and away from her.

She pulled out her remaining knife and hauled the orc upright, holding her blade to its throat.

"How did you find me, filth?" she growled.

It squealed. "Don't hurt me!"

"Tell me!" she ordered, pressing her knife harder into its throat, though she was careful not to draw blood.

"My leader saw a fire in the distance," the orc gurgled. "We came to investigate!"

"Are there more of you?" she demanded. It said nothing. "Answer me, filth!" she spat.

"Yes!" it cried. "A squadron, sent to scout these mountains. After the disaster in the mines, we have been ordered to infiltrate the lands of men, preparing for war!"

Tauriel gasped. This was bad news. She didn't know what disaster this orc spoke of, but it had spurred the orcs out of the depths of the mountain and into the upper world, spreading out for war. Who had commanded them to do so—Sauron?

The orc babbled on, begging her to spare its life, but Tauriel could not let it go and alert the others to her presence in the mountains. She put it out of its misery quickly, cutting its throat.

She kicked snow over the remnants of her fire, removing her arrows and her knife from the orc corpses. She did not want anyone to know who had killed these orcs—and she could reuse those weapons, anyway. She quickly gathered her belongings and set out, fighting her exhaustion. She was not safe in these mountains, and she had even more urgent news to deliver to Galadriel.