Despite her stating she felt ready to sleep, Tauriel finds herself sitting in the garden until just before the break of dawn. She would have probably stayed longer if it weren't for the possibility she would be seen wandering about the castle in her robe.
Stealthily she returns to her room, noting there is still no guard at her door, thankfully. She slips into bed just as the morning rays break past the horizon, pulling blankets up to cover her face.
It feels like no time has passed when there is a knock on her door and Arodeth comes bustling in, carrying a breakfast platter. Tauriel groans, but urges herself back out of bed, remembering her promise to eat.
One would think Tauriel was presenting gifts of diamonds at the way Arodeth beams at her picking over breakfast.
"Is everything to your liking?" the maid asks, smiling.
"Yes, it's fine, thank you."
"Please let me know if there is anything else you need!"
The other woman's cheery disposition is almost too much for how tired Tauriel feels, so she attempts a smile and sends Arodeth on her way.
Not much food is needed to fill her up, and she gets a glimpse at just how much her stomach has shrank.
How I'm supposed to return to the Guard in this shape I have no idea, she thinks. It is going to take a lot of training to make up for the muscles I've lost.
Just the thought of all that hard work, and energy required to train, has Tauriel groaning and crawling back to bed.
At least I ate, she tells herself. That's something, right? One step at a time.
She returns the covers over her head and within minutes falls asleep, not waking until Arodeth returns at lunch with another tray of food.
Tauriel does not feel like eating again, her stomach still stretched from breakfast, but she suspects skipping meals is a sure fire way to earn another dinner with the King, and she's not feeling up to social interaction.
Again she forces herself to eat, under the ever-watchful eye of her smiling maid.
"What is it?" Tauriel snaps, weary of being watched.
"I have something for you," Arodeth says, smiling. "I was going to wait until you finished eating, but at that rate we'll be here all week."
The maid steps into the hallway and returns carrying Tauriel's daggers.
Tauriel frowns as she accepts them, slowly withdrawing one from its sheath.
"I had them cleaned and sharpened," Arodeth tells her. "I thought you'd like them ready for when you return to training."
Despite wanting to thank the maid for her thoughtfulness, Tauriel finds no words able to form. As she stares down at the blade in her hand her mind replays her fight with Bolg, and she is hit with a wave of guilt so crippling she almost collapses.
I'm the one who called out for Kili. He was handling his own just fine, but I called out for him and he came looking. It's my fault. If I had only kept my mouth shut, he would still be alive… even if I wouldn't be.
In her heart she knows she would gladly trade places with Kili.
Swallowing loudly, her throat feeling oddly thick, Tauriel sheaths the weapon and sets the pair of daggers on her desk.
"Thank you," she forces herself to say. "I don't think I'm quite ready to train yet, but when I am, I'm glad to be prepared."
The maid gives her a sad smile and reaches out to pat her arm.
After she's gone, Tauriel can't bring herself to look in the direction of her desk, and situates herself on the farthest side of the room from it.
The day passes so slowly it feels as if time has stopped altogether.
As the sun begins to set, Tauriel starts to feel claustrophobic. The walls of her room press in towards her, and the daggers on the desk begin to feel like the embodiment of her guilty conscience.
Panic wells in her chest, and before she can stop herself she is fleeing from her room. She vaguely registers the guard outside her room calling after her, but she ignores him. The only thing that matters is the weight of the brass key in her hand.
Despite no forethought or planning, Tauriel coincidentally set out during the time most elves are sitting down to dinner. She only passes a few people in the corridors, and while they give her curious glances, no one stops her.
She doesn't breath freely until she bursts into the rooftop garden, catching sight of the first star of the evening shining above.
X
"Yes, yes, that will be fine," Thranduil says, sighing sadly. "I think that is the last of it then. Everything is set?"
"Yes, your majesty," Nimmon assures him with a bow.
Thranduil dismisses him, and pours himself a glass of wine.
Now that work is done, he thinks as he takes a sip.
"Your majesty?"
Taking a deep breath and setting his cup back down, Thranduil looks up and finds Tauriel's maid standing before him, looking especially nervous.
"Don't tell me she's stopped eating again?" he asks.
"No, she actually ate both breakfast and lunch," Arodeth says. "It's just that now… she's missing."
"What do you mean she's missing?"
His eyes flash, and voice goes cold as steel. When the maid shirks, he tries to soften his tone.
There is a difference in what it takes to cow a fellow diplomat, and what it takes to get your servant to speak.
"What happened?" he questions, softer.
"I don't know. When I arrived to bring her dinner the guard said she had run out and didn't tell him where she was going. He didn't follow because you told him to guard the room."
Thranduil tries not to roll his eyes and just barely succeeds.
"What is there to guard if she is absent?"
Arodeth doesn't respond.
Where would she—?
"Take the rest of the night off," he instructs. "I know where she is. There is nothing to be concerned about."
"She's alright, isn't she?"
"I suspect she just needs to clear her mind." He cocks his head to the side as he studies the woman before him. "You truly care for her, don't you?"
Arodeth nods once.
"I'd argue I'm not the only one," she says, giving him a sly smirk.
Before he can ask 'what is that supposed to mean' she excuses herself.
Without ever consciously deciding to go, Thranduil finds himself quietly slipping through the door leading to his private garden.
It's a quiet evening, save for the chirping of insects and the muffled sobs coming from the pond.
Keeping light on his feet, Thranduil weaves his way through the flowers, trying to get a closer look without revealing himself. What he sees makes his chest ache, though whether from sorrow, sympathy, or something else entirely, he's not certain.
Tauriel is siting on the ground, illuminated by the light of the moon. Her arm is resting on the edge of the pond, supporting her head, as she skims the water with her fingers.
Looking at her now, Thranduil doesn't know how he, even briefly, mistook her for his late wife.
Though both beautiful, the two women do not resemble each other in the slightest. Where Tauriel is kissed by fire, Gilrin had silver locks resembling his own. She had a soft face, instead of the sculpted angles and high cheekbones. Gilrin was taller than Tauriel as well and, though much older, she carried an innocence the Silvan Elf did not.
With all of the loss and sadness hanging over the kingdom, Thranduil suspects he let himself slip into reminiscence. Something he tries to avoid at all costs.
Not thinking about it, he finds himself moving closer. Gliding soundlessly through the vegetation, trying to be nearer to his forlorn Captain.
He must not be as quiet as he thinks he is, for Tauriel sits up suddenly, looking around as if she heard something.
"Hello?" she calls quietly.
Thranduil freezes, debating on whether to reveal himself or not.
"Kili?"
Her voice is less of a question, and more of a wish. Thranduil doesn't move, even going so far as to hold his breath.
"I'm sorry," Tauriel whispers. "Had I but listened, and kept my distance, you might still be here."
He wants to step out and assure her she is not to blame, but suspects she'd find his counsel more shocking, and surprisingly invasive, than anything.
X
Tauriel spends much less time in the garden tonight. She's not sure what it is, but she felt safer tonight. Protected. Watched over.
When she returns to her room, now unguarded, she has no problems falling into a dreamless slumber, and when she wakes the next morning she feels oddly energetic.
She argues that it probably has something to do with actually having eaten the day before, but part of her wonders if her garden guardian lent her new strength.
When Arodeth arrives with breakfast, she is thrilled to see Tauriel up and dressed.
"Look at you, Miss Ray of Sunshine," the maid squeals, delighted.
"That might be stretching it."
"Are you hungry, dear?"
"Famished, actually," Tauriel replies.
Tauriel seats herself and eats breakfast with a vigor she hasn't felt in a while. As she eats, she listens to Arodeth chatter away about the weather, about the renovation to the bathing pools, about pretty much anything all with out hitting a sensitive topic. Tauriel is grateful for the way the maid keeps the silence away, giving her anything to think about aside from that which she wants to avoid.
As she is clearing her plate, Arodeth tears open Tauriel's wardrobe and begins thumbing through the contents.
"I have another invitation for you," she says, "from the King."
Tauriel fights a groan.
"I'm eating again! What else does he want?"
Not that she isn't honored by his attention, and it is in fact something she used to long for, but she doesn't know how to handle him lately. He's normally so guarded, standoffish, barking orders at her whenever she is within earshot.
Tauriel knows how to handle that king. She's been doing it for six hundred years. What she doesn't know how to handle is this new man, so caring and concerned. It puts her on edge, waiting to say something wrong and end up berated, or banished again.
"He wanted me to inform you that memorial service for the fallen is this evening, and he would like you to be there."
"Oh," she says, heart sinking. "Of course."
Her stomach turns uncomfortably and the calm she'd awoken with seems to have vanished.
Arodeth has finished straightening the room and is getting ready to depart, when Tauriel stops her.
"Wait, can you— do you—" she stutters, trying to think of what to say. "Would you like to stay? I've grown tired of reading. What I'd really like is… a nice game of Pica Pano. Would you like to play?"
Tauriel is certain the maid knows she is grasping, desperate not to be left alone, but she doesn't call her on it.
"I don't know," Arodeth says, exaggeratingly slow. "I would hate for you to be out of a job when the King finds out your maid demolished you in a strategy game."
Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Tauriel smiles thankfully.
"I guess we'll have to see about that. You're looking at the only person in the kingdom, aside from the King himself, who manages to defeat our Lord Legolas every time since she was about two hundred."
Tauriel jumps up and rummages through her desk, pulling out a small wooden plank drilled with holes, and a drawstring pouch containing black and white pegs.
She and Arodeth settle onto the bed and before she knows it they are lost in the game. The maid displays quite the talent for put-downs and smart remarks, and Tauriel finds herself replying in kind and actually laughing.
They pause only when Arodeth fetches them lunch, a tray of finger foods to nibble at while they play. Much to her surprise, Tauriel finds herself on the losing side three out of the four times they play, and her one win was by no more than a hair's breadth.
"Perhaps I will be out of a job!" she exclaims.
"I wouldn't do that to you," Arodeth smiles. "Oh, would you look at the sky? We should get you ready, there isn't long before the ceremony."
All of her discomfort comes rushing back and her throat tightens. If Arodeth finds her sudden silence disconcerting after an afternoon of talk, she says nothing, instead focusing on helping Tauriel prepare.
She hums, that same lullaby, as she braids Tauriel's hair, offering more comfort than she understands.
Tauriel wears a long silver robe, the customary attire for an Elvish funeral, meant to echo the belief that those lost take their place among the stars; their fëa shining for eternity on those they left behind.
Arodeth excuses herself briefly to change into her own silver dress, but returns to walk with Tauriel to the ceremony, though when they arrive to the largest courtyard they are parted.
Arodeth must stand with the rest of the general population, but Tauriel finds herself being escorted by a guard to the front of the ever-expanding crowd. Realization slams into her like a physical blow as she realizes the King expects her stand in front of everyone with the other Captains.
She tries to keep her breathing even and chin held high as she takes her place, briefly wondering if this is some kind of punishment. Being forced to stand in front of a crowd who likely knows she abandoned her post when she was most needed.
The room is shining brightly, illuminated by the moon and a series of cleverly placed mirrors to give the illusion of being outside. It makes Tauriel think of how it looks during the Feast of Starlight.
Tonight's crowd is much more somber, though. It's also parted in the middle, creating a wide berth around a cloth-covered monument in the center of the room she suspects is the memorial shrine.
Horns sound loudly and she follows the lead of her fellow Captains and turns to acknowledge the entrance of the King. She bows along with everyone else, while mentally cursing him.
Thranduil is decked in his finest, his cloak so radiant he almost appears to be giving off light. He takes his place standing before the Captains, not so much as sparing them a glance. She's not sure why this annoys her further.
"Tonight," he says, voice echoing loudly through the hushed hall, "we commemorate those who bravely fought, and fell. We honor their sacrifice. We celebrate their life. We remember!"
The King emphasizes his words, lifting his hands towards the sky. This must be the signal because there is the sound of whooshing fabric and the cloth covering the monument falls away, revealing a twenty-five foot tall black marble obelisk, engraved with the names of those lost.
The crowd murmurs, and Tauriel can see the approval on their faces.
"Please join me," Thranduil commands, drawing attention back to himself, "in venerating these heroes."
He claps his hands and waiters step out from the sides of the room, carrying trays laden with drinks and food. From the back corner music starts to play and the crowd begins to buzz with talk and mingling.
The King turns to face his captains.
"You are dismissed," he says, "please join the party and honor your fellow soldiers. It is what they would want."
He doesn't look directly at Tauriel and she feels oddly hurt. Despite what she felt earlier, not knowing how to handle the considerate and caring King, she forgot how hard it was to be completely ignored.
In fact, she thinks it is worse now, having been on the receiving end of his concern.
While the other guards bow their heads and then make their way into the crowd, Tauriel turns away and starts for the nearest exit.
She's makes it down the hall and has just rounded the corner when she feels a hand clamp down on her shoulder.
"Please, I can't—" she begins, thinking Thranduil has followed her to command her back.
"I bet you can't! Too much guilt?"
Instead of finding the King, Tauriel instead finds herself facing her second in command, Erwarth.
Erwarth towers over her, a good two feet taller than herself. His eyes, black as his hair, are filled with hatred and rage. His face, scarred along the right cheek, is contorted into a snarl.
He shoves her roughly, knocking her into the carved stone wall.
"Get away from me," she commands.
"You think you still have a right to order me around, dwarf-lover?"
Erwarth withdraws a dagger from his belt and swoops closer, leaving her nowhere to go.
"I am still your commanding officer," Tauriel insists, trying to keep her voice steady, and desperately wishing she weren't unarmed.
"You," he sneers, pressing his blade to her throat, "are scum."
"I would lower your dagger, unless you would enjoy being decapitated, that is."
Tauriel sighs in relief as Erwarth drops his weapon, her earlier annoyance with the King forgotten as she catches sight of him, sword drawn and aimed at her assailant's face.
"Guards!" the King calls, and two come rushing from around the corner. "Seize him."
"This isn't over," Erwarth spits, as he is taken into custody.
"Yes, it is. You are hereby banished from my kingdom, and if I ever lay eyes on you again your head will decorate my front door."
Tauriel looks to the King in shock; Erwarth is one of the most senior members of the guard. He's fought for this realm for the better part of his three thousand years.
The guards haul him away, leaving a stunned Tauriel alone with the King.
"Are you hurt?" Thranduil asks, sheathing his sword and reaching out to her.
"I'm fine, th—thank you."
"That won't happen again."
"Do you think he's the only on angry with me?" she asks, shaking her head. "You are a fool if you truly think this ends tonight."
Without waiting for a response, or a reprimand for calling her King a fool, Tauriel turns and runs, not stopping until she is safely behind her barred bedroom door.
Author's Note: Again, I rarely write chapters this long, but there is just something about this pair that keeps me going. Thank you so much for your kind reviews, I read every single one of them and they truly keep me motivated! As always, please let me know what you think!
Translations:
Pica Pano - Spot Plan (I was kind of referring to that game where you move plastic pegs around a triangle shaped board, no idea what it's called, and Pica Pano was the closest translation of 'Peg Strategy' I could find.
Fëa - Soul or spirit