A/N – First, thank you to all for the positive feedback and all the follows! I've never had such a strong response to a story and I'm humbled. (I also cleaned up chapter 1 a little because it had some rough spots, so feel free to re-read. I think you'll like it even more.)

I fought with making this chapter from Tauriel's point of view, but she is muddled and uncertain right now. I will probably have a chapter giving her perspective later. Maybe around chapter 4. For now, Thranduil calls to me – because it's a challenge for me to get into the head of a three thousand year-old king. I hope you enjoy.

- xo xo xo xo xo -

Tauriel stood shaking and staring down at the dwarf. It only took a moment for Thranduil to recognize that she was very much in shock, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the day's events. The king had lived too long and seen many an elf succumb to such an onslaught of emotion. The dwarf was alive, but the circumstances had been traumatic making the young elf vulnerable. She would need time to recover.

"Tauriel!" he commanded again, his tone firm and unrelenting, a tone that she'd spent a lifetime trained to obey. It forced her to look at him, but her eyes were somewhat unfocused. "We must leave now."

"Of course, my lord."

There was a wheezing in her breath as she said the words and that was when he noticed the bruises on her neck, the marks on her face, the torn clothing, and the way she favored her side. She had been injured during the battle. Badly.

The outward signs of injury had not been immediately visible, and his attention had been solely directed to her emotional pain. Understandable to most, but Thranduil was disturbed that he'd failed to notice the details – it was not like him to lack such an observation – further proving that recent events had affected him more than he normally allowed.

Her encounter against the spawn of Azog had been far worse than he'd initially realized. Elves could endure blows that would easily kill men, so to see her in such obvious physical distress only proved that Bolg had been a formidable foe. It was clear that Legolas had needed both fortune as well as skill to defeat the wretched creature.

Legolas.

His heart clenched as he thought of his son, now gone from him. A trust had been broken, the bond between father and son damaged, and Thranduil had only himself to blame.

He barely recognized the thought before pushing it aside with practiced ease. His duty as king demanded that he concentrate on his immediate task. Love was a luxury that a king could not afford. Even now, allowing himself this small opening in his heart for this young one was dangerous, but nothing could staunch the flow of emotion pouring forth.

Despite his command, she still failed to move, her gaze once again riveted to the badly injured dwarf. He was alive, but barely.

Thranduil quickly analyzed the situation, calculating the possible outcomes. If they left the dwarf here, he would be quickly found by his own kind, but their healers likely did not have the ability to handle such extreme trauma. He'd likely not survive. In the improbable event that he did survive, as an heir to Thorin, he most certainly would be kept among his own kind and there was little chance that Tauriel would ever see him again . Neither scenario was desirable with her inner light already in a fragile state.

It took only a moment for the elven king to make his decision – an impulsive one, and with no small amount of risk, but he had few options if he was going to help the young elleth.

Tauriel was in shock, still failing to move and Thranduil had neither the time nor the desire to explain.

Quickly and gracefully he knelt next to the prone form of the dwarf, quickly removing the ruined armor and leather that the creature had worn, and then tossing the garments over the side of the cliff. The chasm was deep; deep enough so that a glimpse of the armor would be visible, but it would not be obvious that it was not encasing an actual body. Then, with a quick glance at the tear-streaked face of the elf he thought of as a daughter, he gently gathered the dwarf up into his arms, like a child, albeit a very muscular, heavy child.

"Come, Tauriel," he said, turning away from her, toward the narrow path that led back down to the valley, knowing, with profound certainty, that she would follow.

He had some misgivings about his hasty plan, and about the dwarf in his arms, but he would never allow such thoughts to be uttered aloud. Instead, he deliberately held his bearing to emanate a strong sense of purpose, well-aware that Tauriel would react to his leadership.

As he neared the base of the cliff, he saw his guard awaiting his return and immediately handed the dwarf over to one of them.

"Tauriel is injured," he informed them. "Take them both back to our home," he said, his intense gaze adding weight to his next words. "Make certain that you are not seen."

The question in their eyes regarding the dwarf was obvious. They had witnessed the king's earlier confrontation with Tauriel, therefore Thranduil deduced that they would need further instructions. "The dwarf requires immediate attention by our healers," he explained tersely. "There may be questions about Tauriel, or her knowledge of what happened during the battle. If asked, inform them that her whereabouts are unknown and that she remains banished."

He caught a slight widening of Tauriel's eyes at the words and he quickly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go with them, Tauriel. I will return when matters here are settled. We will speak then."

Her shoulders dropped in relief. He ignored the surprised expressions of the guards, giving them a purposeful nod, silently commanding them to obey his command.

He watched them go, one guard placing a cloak over Tauriel's shoulders to hide her distinctive hair. She followed anxiously, her gaze not leaving the dwarf's limp form and, again, Thranduil took note of her unusual behavior. This was not his strong Tauriel, although he hoped she might be again, with time.

Then, he headed back toward Dale. There was much to be done.

- x -

Thranduil had nearly always hated the ways of mortals. He had been more open-minded in his youth, but experience had taught him to place little value on their decisions. Their limited lifespan often led them to making choices that might only benefit themselves for a few decades at best. Rarely did Thranduil find any of them willing to take a longer, more pragmatic view.

However, after recent events and the undeniable truth that the darkness had returned, the short-term plans for Erebor, Dale and Mirkwood were now aligned. As the king of Mirkwood, Thranduil needed to diplomatically forge an alliance with the men of Dale and the dwarves of Erebor to ensure that all agreements were in the best interest of his people.

However, the king under the mountain was dead, as was his first heir, and it was quickly assumed that the remaining heir was also deceased, leaving a large gaping hole in leadership. Dain Ironfoot was the next in line for the throne and Thranduil did not look forward to trying to reason with the notoriously obstinate king of the Iron Hills. That was where the younger heir's absence worked to Thranduil's advantage. Without the body, or other proof of his death, Dain could not yet take the crown. He was still leader of the mountain realm, but his control was not yet absolute. The ambiguity of the young dwarf's fate left a notable gap, allowing Thranduil to influence and reach the optimal compromise.

It was part of the reason he'd taken the badly injured dwarf, so that knowledge of his condition, for good or ill, would be released only when Thranduil wished. Also, it gave the elven king time to gain the youngster's trust, at least in some small degree, before Dain and the rest of his kind could assert their own influence on the young heir.

It was a sound strategy, which would play out in time, but first, Thranduil needed to endure the council of the wizard.

"I have sent a contingent to gather supplies from my kingdom's stores," Thranduil said, his tone even, with a measured amount of benevolence. "All who remain here will be in desperate need of food and shelter for the winter."

Gandalf nodded, taking a long draw from the pipe in his hand, his gaze sharp, as if trying to gauge the king's true intent. "I am sure that Bard will appreciate whatever aid can be rendered. He is already in your debt."

"The food will be offered to the dwarves as well."

The wizard raised a suspicious eyebrow, indicating that he suspected Thranduil's intentions were not altogether altruistic.

Thranduil sighed with slight exaggeration, to notably show his annoyance with the wizard. "I do not deny that the threat will return, Mithrandir. It is only a matter of time. We must form an alliance because none of us can stand against such a foe alone. I have put aside our differences, I would expect the dwarves to do the same."

The wizard gave a low grunt, indicating reluctant agreement. "The dwarves will do nothing until they have properly buried their dead."

"As will we," Thranduil said firmly. "But we have a few days to determine the best course of action. I would like to use that time wisely. "

The wizard nodded, and Thranduil caught a slight change in Mithrandir's posture, indicating that he accepted – perhaps not entirely trusting the elf, but at least no longer suspicious of his motives.

"You will talk to the dwarves," Thranduil suggested. "They will be more accepting if the offer comes from you."

Again, the wizard grunted. "It is in their best interest. I will speak to Dain."

Thranduil gave a graceful nod to the wizard, forcing his smile not to appear too smug. If the dwarves accepted, they would be in his debt, no matter how small.

"Will you attend the funeral of Thorin?" Gandalf asked.

"It is my intent to do so. I have spoken with Bard about offering the Arkenstone as a gesture of our goodwill as part of the ceremony."

The wizard nodded thoughtfully. "It would be well received."

"I will still ask for my fair settlement," Thranduil added.

The wizard considered the statement for a moment, taking another long draw from his pipe before responding, "Agreed. You may be in luck. With the body of Kili still missing, Dain will have no claim on the stone."

Thranduil attempted to look surprised, although he was enormously pleased that his plan seemed to be working so easily. "Is that so?"

The wizard raised an eyebrow suspiciously, although Thranduil pretended not to care. "The remaining members of the company have first claim on the contents of the mountain, by contract."

The elven king could not help but sneer at the statement. He might have helped Tauriel's dwarf, and he might be willing to enter into an alliance with the dwarven kingdom, but there were certain traits among dwarves that were undeniable. He responded with disdain, "Yes, dwarves and their contracts. Most are as worthless and fragile as the paper on which they are written."

Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment, clearly annoyed, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "These dwarves will likely be reasonable. They are devoutly loyal to Thorin and they will want to see the stone remains within the mountain. I am certain they can be persuaded to your terms."

But Thranduil was far from satisfied with the response. He could not, would not risk his people's future on the fickle greed of the mountain creatures, and he needed more information about the one he now had hidden within his own kingdom's halls. He could not help but to needle the wizard further.

"And what if the other heir, Kili, is still alive? Will he not wish to take possession of this gem? Do we risk another dwarf king falling under its spell?" It was a dangerous question to ask, because it might lead others to suspect that Thranduil knew more than he was telling.

Gandalf paused, hope springing to his eyes for a brief moment before shaking his head negatively. "Legolas himself told me that Kili had been killed. It is unfortunate that the body appears to be in an unreachable location. But, to address your concern: Kili was not his uncle."

"And Thorin was not Thror, yet he still succumbed to the dragon-sickness, even having seen the effect it had on his grandfather."

The wizard gave a loud, "Hmmph," before continuing. "And he overcame it."

"Almost at the expense of war," Thranduil reminded. "And what of Dain? Eventually, Dain will want to claim the throne. What if he also succumbs to this sickness? As long as the stone remains, it is dangerous."

The wizard seemed to consider the words, then nodded. "Agreed." He then paused and looked at the elven king suspiciously. "Are you suggesting that the stone remain with Thorin?"

Thranduil had to fight to keep a smile from coming to his lips that the wizard actually had drawn the desired conclusion. It was rare that he could get the fool wizard to agree to anything reasonable and this particular matter was far too important to lose in a pointless argument. Thranduil responded as calmly and logically as his emotions would allow. "Dain is not yet crowned King Under the Mountain. It may be our only opportunity to stop the effects of this curse. You must agree, after seeing Thorin, that no good comes from that stone."

The wizard nodded with resignation, and a small amount of sadness. "The stone belongs with Thorin's line, and that is now ended. It would be seen as a fitting way to honor a fallen king." He sighed. "I will speak to the company to ensure that it is buried with its king and I will seal the tomb myself. None will be able to reach it."

Satisfied, Thranduil gave a graceful nod of his head in the direction of the wizard. With Gandalf influencing the mortals, negotiations would go much more easily.