Tauriel strips out of her mourning robe and changes into a nightgown, deciding to make an early night of it. She's positive the events of tonight will have some ramifications come morning, so she tries to get some rest, hoping her dreams will be peaceful.
Surprisingly her dreams are very peaceful, though, perhaps a bit odd.
It begins in a spring meadow, wildflowers dancing in the breeze, and the afternoon sun hanging brightly overhead. Tauriel is stretched out on a blanket, and when she turns she finds Kili right beside her, smiling, happy, and alive. She returns his smile, leaning over to close the distance between them and plant a kiss on his lips; one that he returns.
'If only,' she finds herself thinking, conscious mind seeping into her dream.
The scene changes suddenly and Tauriel is no longer laying down, but standing, and instead of the sun kissed meadow, she finds herself in the royal garden beneath the stars.
Breathing tickles her neck sending shivers down her spine, and a large, warm, hand comes to rest on her shoulder.
Tauriel twists, searching for the face of her garden guardian—
Knocking on her bedroom door wakes her from her dream and the images slip away, like hundreds of dandelion seeds carried off by a puff of wind.
She blinks her eyes rapidly, trying to hold onto the dream, while simultaneously trying to figure out what is happening in the waking world.
Her room is almost pitch black, despite the curtains being cracked, only lit up by a sliver of moonlight.
It's the middle of the night!
Tauriel grumbles and climbs out of bed, wondering if Arodeth has come to seek her out after a long evening of celebrating life. She pauses before unbarring the door, her thoughts drifting to Erwarth.
"Who is it?" she asks, hands resting on the wooden bar.
"It's me Captain," a voice calls, and she recognizes it as one of the guards who has spent shifts outside her room the last few weeks. "The King requests your presence."
Tauriel groans and lifts the bar.
"Of course he does," she grumbles, opening the door. "He couldn't just wait—"
Her words are cut off as she is thrown backwards by the guard shoving the door into her.
Closing the door behind him, the guard stalks towards her. Surprise and sleep muddle her thoughts and Tauriel tries to scramble backwards across the floor.
"Make this easy on yourself, traitor," he says. "Don't fight."
As he descends towards her, Tauriel kicks one of her legs out and connects with his knee.
"I've never been fond of the easy way," she growls as he falls to his knees.
Jumping to her feet, Tauriel tries to run past her assailant towards the door, but she isn't fast enough and he manages to catch her ankle. She goes sprawling once more, face first this time, with her head cracking on the stone floor.
"Ah!"
Stars swim before her eyes and the pounding pain in her head only grows worse when the guard fists his hand in her hair and drags her into a standing position.
The room is spinning and Tauriel is positive if it weren't for the chokehold she's being placed in she would be back on the floor.
He has her back pressed to his chest and one arm wrapped around her throat, tightening against her windpipe.
She tries scratching at his arm, but his free hand comes up and pins her left arm to her side.
Tauriel stomps down on his foot, but between the combination of head injury, lack of air, and her recent starvation, the act has no effect whatsoever. Her legs flail about, kicking and trying to unbalance the guard.
He grunts and takes a couple steps forward, pinning her legs against her desk, halting their movement.
Black pinpricks speckle her vision and Tauriel knows she is moments from passing out. Her right hand, still trying to pry his arm off, falls limply as she accepts defeat.
Kili…
Her hand grazes something metal, cold, and very familiar.
With the last of her strength, Tauriel grasps the hilt of one of her freshly sharpened daggers, and with one swift movement frees it from its sheath and buries the blade in her attacker's side.
He cries out in agony and lets go of his hold on her throat.
She gasps loudly, greedily sucking one breath, and then another and another, panting as he collapses to ground.
Head still spinning from lack of air and hitting the ground, Tauriel finds herself on the floor, crawling for the door.
As she's edging past the bleeding guard he makes one last grab for her. Anticipating this, she pulls the dagger from his side and buries it in his heart, leaving no room for error.
Energy spent, she collapses on the body, her mind spinning but unable to land on any one thing.
Must… something… get… someone... she urges herself.
Wincing, and fumbling, she pushes herself to her feet and creeps towards the door.
There is no one in the hall, and the tiny, still somewhat coherent part of her brain tells her not to call out for help. It could attract the wrong kind.
Using the wall for support, Tauriel pulls herself along. At only one point in her journey does she hear anyone approaching her location, and she ducks out of sight, though, when they pass it takes her a long time to get back on her feet.
She doesn't know how long it takes her to reach her destination, but she could cry from relief when she sees the big ornate door come into sight.
X
Having just returned from the memorial service, Thranduil thought he was done with business for the day. The knocking on his bedchamber door suggests otherwise.
Preparing to be faced with something ridiculous and trivial, he throws open the door, only to have his heart leap to his throat.
"My… King…" Tauriel sputters.
There is a terrible gash across her temple, and her nightgown is drenched in blood.
Before he can even attempt to process the scene before him, she collapses. He just manages to grab her before she hits the ground.
Thranduil drops to his knees, cradling Tauriel in his arms.
"Guards!" he cries. "Guards!"
A healer is summoned to the King's quarters as guards sweep the area, searching for an attacker. Thranduil places Tauriel in his own bed, not wanting to risk moving her too far and aggravating any injuries.
When the healer arrives Thranduil paces the edge of the room anxiously, not wanting to get in the way by hovering too close. While his own skills at healing are above that of the average elf, the king trusts no one more than Maereth, the royal healer. She once saved his life when he was past saving.
"You are a fool if you truly think this ends tonight." Tauriel's words echo in his mind.
"This is not her blood," Maereth informs him.
"Then why is she unconscious?"
"I did not say she was not injured, only that this is not her blood on her nightgown. She has sustained a very severe concussion; her throat is bruised in a manner that suggests her windpipe was almost crushed, and she has many other, less serious, marks and injuries."
"Can you help her?" Thranduil asks.
Maereth nods her head, and places her hand on Tauriel's injured temple. She begins chanting, her voice low and lilting. Thranduil is both mesmerized, and transported.
He is the one on the bed, writhing in agony, with four guards having to hold him down flat. His skin burns with the fire of a thousand suns. The first thing that breaks through his pain is her voice, calling him… calming him.
She speaks so softly, yet so sure. Her voice washes over him, her incantations bringing the faintest hints of relief.
Finally able to think of anything aside from the pain, Thranduil focuses on her face. Her kind blue eyes lock with his and he feels himself slip into a haze, where all that exists are those eyes and that voice.
"I've healed her head, and done what I can for her throat. That is something that will need another session or two. She should not speak," Maereth says, calling him from his memory.
"Thank you," Thranduil says.
"She can be moved now. Would you like me to fetch someone?"
"Hmm?" he asks.
He had been staring at Tauriel; at some point during the healing process, while his mind wandered, Maereth had dressed Tauriel in one of his nightshirts.
"Would you like me to fetch someone to move her? I'm assuming you don't want to keep her here in your room?"
"Yes, of course not. No, don't trouble yourself," Thranduil tells her. "I'll see Tauriel safely returned to her quarters."
As Maereth departs, a guard enters.
"My King, we think we found the person responsible for Tauriel's injuries."
"I wish to see them."
"It was Langon. He's dead, my King. Found in Tauriel's chamber with her dagger through his heart."
"Langon?" Thranduil questions, incredulous. "He was one of the guards I assigned to her room. That does not make sense."
"Word has reached the council," the guard tells him, "they would like to call a session at once."
Thranduil waves the guard away.
"Tell them I am indisposed."
The guard bows and shows himself out, closing the door behind him, leaving he King and his Captain alone.
Another dead elf… what happened?
Thranduil approaches the side of his bed and perches on the edge, studying Tauriel's sleeping face. There is a thin line on her temple where previously there had been a gash, and he traces his finger across it, wondering if it will scar.
She turns her head nuzzling his hand and he pulls away, suddenly realizing how intimate their situation appears.
Tauriel asleep in his bed, in his clothing, while he caresses her face… highly inappropriate.
She could have died, and yet you sit here with your mind wandering like an elfling barely out of his four hundredth year.
He isn't sure how long he sits with her before she starts talking.
"No, no, no," Tauriel begins muttering, her voice cracking.
"Shh, it's alright," he reassures. "You're safe now."
Her eyes flutter open and she jerks straight up, looking around in panic.
Thranduil places his hands on her shoulders and forces her to look at him.
"Tauriel, you are safe."
"He… tried to—to," her voice hoarse, and he can tell she's in pain.
"Shh, don't speak, you aren't well enough yet."
Her eyes are pleading with him, desperate to explain.
"Take my hand," he instructs, and she furrows her brow at him. "Just do it. Take my hand and I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions. Squeeze for 'Yes', do nothing for 'No', understand? Try not to shift your neck, I don't want you to hurt yourself further."
Tauriel tentatively takes his hand.
"Did your guard attack you?"
Squeeze. Yes.
"Was it unprovoked?"
Yes.
"Were there others?"
Nothing. No.
"He was alone?"
Yes.
"Do you know why he attacked?"
Yes.
"T—traitor," she croaks.
"Shh, I know he was."
Very cautiously Tauriel shakes her head, then raises her free hand and points to her own chest.
"Traitor… you? You're the— he called you a traitor," Thranduil says, working it out.
Yes.
"I'm sorry," Thranduil offers, wondering where all of these apologies the last few days are coming from. "I assigned Langon to your room, this is on me. And I didn't believe we would have any problems after news of Erwarth's banishment got around."
Tauriel opens her mouth to speak, but Thranduil shakes his head 'no', cutting her off.
A knock on the door draws both of their attention, and Thranduil reluctantly bids the visitor to enter.
"Your Majesty."
Thranduil stands to greet his guest.
"Lord Haewon, what brings you here this evening."
Haewon is one of twelve members on the King's council, and though all members are seen as equal, Haewon has a lot of influence and often makes himself the voice of the council.
"The council just finished our meeting about tonight's events," Lord Haewon says.
"I hardly see how it is a matter of the council, the traitor has been dealt with," Thranduil insists, walking towards his guest.
While the King has ultimate power of the kingdom and its subjects, the council was created to ensure the citizens felt like they were being heard. The council brings the matters of the people to King's attention, allowing things to be handled before unrest can spread throughout the land.
"The council disagrees. The only thing we know for sure is that an elf, a member of the guard no less, was murdered tonight inside the palace walls… and she is to blame."
Lord Haewon points at Tauriel.
"We would see her brought to justice."
"It is my understanding," Thranduil says, voice dangerous, "that my Captain was attacked tonight, in her bedchamber, and only did what was necessary to survive."
"Be that as it may, the council is demanding a trial."
Thranduil turns on his heel and paces slowly towards the end of the bed, catching sight of Tauriel's wide-eyed worry.
He knows she did not kill anyone in cold blood tonight, and as King he could deny the council their trial and dismiss everything, but that comes with the risk of turning his back on his kingdom.
Something he cannot do.
He catches Tauriel's eye and tries to wordlessly reassure her he is on her side.
"Very well," he says, turning back to face the councilman. "A trial we shall have."
"Thank you, your Majesty," Lord Haewon beams, a cruel glint in his eye. "Guards, please escort Tauriel to her cell."
Thranduil bites his tongue as two guards swoop in on Tauriel, grabbing her by either arm and pulling her from his bed.
"Be careful," he finds himself saying, "she's not been proven guilty yet, and she is still injured. Have Maereth informed of her location so she may continue the healing process."
Tauriel keeps her mouth closed and jaw clenched, not saying a word as she's led away, though she shoots the King a look filled with accusation and he finds himself filled with dread over what's to come.
Author's Note: Not as long as the last couple chapters, but this felt like a good stopping point and I really wanted to get something up! This ship is slowly consuming my life... Thank you so much for the feedback and reviews, I really love reading it! While I don't reply to every review, if you have a direct question (that won't result in spoilers) I will do my best to reply as soon as I can.