Tauriel begins training with Arradon the very next morning. The pair meets in the early hours before dawn while the rest of the kingdom sleeps.
Placing her bow by her feet, Tauriel begins her stretching routine.
"You won't be needing that today," Arradon says, nodding towards her weapon.
"Beg pardon?"
"Your bow. We won't be using that today."
"Swords then?" she asks.
"No weapons," he corrects, joining her in stretching.
"How am I to run the course without weapons?"
"You're not ready for the course, you displayed that yesterday."
Tauriel's arms drop limply to her sides, and she angles to face him.
"How am I to improve if I don't challenge myself?"
To her increasing annoyance, Arradon laughs at her. She's beginning to wonder if she made the right choice in striking a bargain with the man.
"The problem is you aren't ready for the challenge. You need to build your strength and stamina back up. So, no weapons yet. Today is about rebuilding. Today is about running."
"What—?"
Before she can get her question out, Arradon shoots off in a full speed sprint away from her.
"Come on!" he calls over his shoulder, and she reluctantly follows.
They run lap after lap around the training pitch, and Tauriel grows weary much sooner than she knows she should. She can't match Arradon's pace even in the beginning, and by the end of her strength he's practically lapping her.
When she can take no more, Tauriel stops and hunches over, resting her hands on her knees and panting. Arradon, half a track ahead of her, finishes his lap before stopping beside her.
"I think… I'm going to… be sick," she pants.
He laughs.
I'm really going to hate that laugh before long, she thinks glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.
This only makes him laugh more.
"Are you quite finished?" he asks, when her breathing finally slows.
"Yeah. I think so."
"Good. Drop and give me push-ups."
She groans but does as he says, and he drops beside her. Arradon's form is perfect and he shows no signs of strain as he again surpasses her attempts at exercise.
"How many?" she asks.
"As many as you possibly can."
Tauriel bites her tongue from making a smart remark, but the smirk he shoots her suggests he knows what she was thinking.
After that they move on to sit-ups, and then back to more running. By the time dawn begins to spread its fingers overhead, Tauriel feels as if she's been in another battle for her life.
"How are you doing?" Arradon asks as they exit the pitch.
"Oh, you know. I'm doing okay," she tries to shrug, but winces instead. "You might have to carry me to my quarters, but other than that—"
"See you tomorrow?" he asks.
"Yes," she says.
If I don't die…
He's chuckling as he walks away and Tauriel can't help but shake her head.
They spend a full week and a half working on rebuilding her stamina before Arradon will even consider starting on weapons. The first few days this really irritates Tauriel, she is the youngest captain ever, after all. She got the job for a reason. She isn't some elfling wishing to play with ada's weapons as if they are toys.
Soon though, she realizes she isn't ready. She can't even run properly on her own, how could she manage it while weighted down with weapons? Her arms still quiver while doing push-ups, how can she draw her bowstring and hold position, waiting for the moment to fire?
She momentarily wonders how Arradon could want to leave the guard when he is clearly so skilled, but then Tauriel realizes she is verging on agreeing with Lord Haewon about something and quickly dismisses the thought.
Arradon should do what makes him happy.
At the end of her third week of training, she almost feels like herself again.
"I think you'll be ready to rejoin the guard by the next full moon," Arradon tells her after a morning of target practice and dodging objects he was throwing at her.
"Really?"
"You did outrun me this morning."
She smiles proudly.
"I'll speak to the King about your music," Tauriel insists.
"Thank you."
"No, thank you. I finally feel like… me again. Well, almost me."
"Glad to help. Maybe something good came out of me joining the guard after all."
"Arradon?" she asks, shyly. "Did you tell your father you have been training with me?"
This is the first time she's brought up Lord Haewon. Though she had originally intended to pump Arradon for information, she could never bring herself to do it. For one, it was clear the two don't exactly get along, and another, it felt wrong.
Arradon is so very different from his father, and he has helped her so much, it felt like a betrayal to use him in that way.
"No, I didn't," he says.
"Why not?"
"Well, at first it was because I thought he would interfere with our deal, but after spending more time with you… I thought he might somehow try to use the information against you," he admits. "He's not very fond of you."
"I've noticed," she drawls. "Thank you. I— it means a lot to me."
"See you tomorrow?"
Tauriel smiles and nods, and Arradon bows to her before heading on his way.
Back in her bedchamber, Arodeth is waiting for Tauriel with a hot bath drawn to help ease her aching muscles.
"You are sent from above," Tauriel tells her with a happy sigh as she sinks into the steaming tub.
The fresh smell of flower blossoms wafts through the air, courtesy of the scented oils in the water.
She places a warm, wet, cloth over eyes and relaxes her head on the edge of the tub.
The last few weeks she's been spending all her time while not training, hidden away in her room, either reading, or passing the time with Arodeth.
She hasn't wanted to be seen out and about and have people questioning why she wasn't back at work. Perhaps this way they'll just assume she's working on something important rather than viewing her as weak.
During this self-imposed isolation, Tauriel has seen no one aside from Arradon and Arodeth, including the King.
Now I must ask him for a favor, after he has already done so much for me.
Thinking of her last encounter with the King, Tauriel can't banish the embarrassment that flares in her stomach. She doesn't know why she kissed him. Granted, it was only on the cheek, but that still screams intimacy among the elves.
She tries to blame it on her time spent with Bard's daughters. Mortals are so… affectionate.
Every time the girls would come across someone else they knew, who they thought had perished in the fire, the girls would throw their arms around them, sometimes kissing cheeks.
Yes, that's what it was, she insists, ignoring the nagging feeling in her chest.
She decides to seek him out in the garden, hoping he will be there tonight.
Tauriel doesn't want to go to the King's study. That would make this a formal visit, one in which she couldn't request privacy if advisors were in the room. And her request is not a formal one, but a personal one.
She passes the day as she has her others recently, though there is much more pacing than reading today.
As the sun slips away Tauriel makes her way to the garden.
It's empty when she gets there, save for the chirps of insects hidden among the flowers. She settles onto the bench beside the pond, prepared to wait all night if she must.
She yawns loudly, wishing she had taken a nap earlier. Tauriel shakes her head, banishing sleepy thoughts from her mind.
Or trying to at least…
X
Thranduil hasn't been able to focus in days. His informants have gleaned that Lord Haewon is cultivating his network. He's doing favors for well-connected families all over the kingdom, earning favor in return.
If it were anyone else, Thranduil would say they were only being nice out of the kindness in their hearts, but Haewon does nothing unless it can somehow help him in return.
If only I knew what he was planning!
Thranduil shoves his dinner plate away, almost untouched, which only turns his mind to Tauriel.
He hasn't seen her in weeks. Not since she told him she was going to begin training again. Not since she kissed his cheek.
Absentmindedly his hand wanders to his face and he traces his fingers over the spot her lips brushed against him.
He doesn't know why he expects her to keep in close contact. It is probably for the best they distance themselves after the trial.
After all, all he ever wanted was to ensure she wouldn't let herself fade in her grief. Now that it is clear she is well on the road to recovery his interest should pass.
Yet it hasn't.
He's been visiting the garden every night, something he has not done since Legolas was little.
Thranduil tells himself to stop, not to go tonight, and instead focus on more important matters at hand. Like the roaming bands of orcs stalking through the forests, displaced after most of their company died.
He resists.
Almost.
He journeys to the garden much later than usual, and tonight he finds he is not alone.
He can hear Tauriel's voice as soon as he steps through the gate, and at first thinks she must be talking to herself, but her tone is frightened.
Rushing over to the pond, Thranduil finds Tauriel asleep on the bench, muttering fearfully.
"Tauriel," he says softly, resting an arm on her shoulder.
She doesn't wake, only mutters louder.
"Please," she begs, "please no."
"It's only a nightmare. Wake up."
He shakes her shoulder gently, and when that doesn't work he tries a little harder.
"No, no, no," she whimpers.
He sees tearstains glistening on her cheeks, and kneels beside her, pleading with her to wake up.
Her cries only grow louder, and finally Thranduil can bear it no longer. He carefully lifts her from the bench and lays her on the ground beside him, resting her head in his lap.
He wipes the tears from her cheeks, and begins to sing a soft lullaby.
"Quildë írima, alnîr
Este sin, holya hensta
Morna taië munta tó caurë
Nauva berialyë, illumë har
Hush, lovely, do not cry
Rest now, close your eyes
In darkness there is naught to fear
I will protect you, always near"
Her cries grow softer, until they fade completely. She still trembles so he continues to hum to her, gently stroking her hair until she calms.
Her features soften and the troubled mask she wears begins to fade.
Thranduil knows he should wake her now that the nightmare has passed, but she looks so peaceful he can hardly bring himself to do it.
So much trouble and heartbreak has plagued her recently, it is a welcome change to see her so serene.
"Kili," she breaths, and he fights back his distaste. "My Ki… my King."
Thranduil stiffens, wondering if he misheard.
He waits a few moments, but when she doesn't speak again, he decides he must wake her.
"Tauriel," calls. "Wake up."
She jerks awake suddenly, blinking up at him in confusion as he leans over her.
"My King?"
She sits up abruptly, looking around trying to gather her bearings.
"What happened?"
"You were sleeping when I arrived," he explained. "You were having a nightmare and I couldn't wake you."
"Oh. I'm sorry, please forgive me," she apologizes. "I came out here to talk to you, and must have drifted off while waiting. I've been training again, and it's been quite exhausting, and—"
"No need to apologize, please," he insists. "What did you wish to talk about?"
Thranduil pulls himself up onto the bench and offers Tauriel a helping hand where she still sits on the ground. She accepts it gratefully, and he tugs her up to sit beside him.
"Well," she begins, hands knotting the fabric of her dress in her lap, "I needed to ask you a favor. Which I know is terribly rude considering all you have already—"
"What is this favor?"
She explains to him the deal she struck with Lord Haewon's son, Arradon, and he listens intently. Tauriel tells him about the rift between father and son, and how at first she thought she could use Arradon for information, but now she just wishes to help him.
"You are no spy," he says, hiding his smirk.
She glares at him.
"I mean that as a compliment. Spies are tricky, sneaky, ne'er-do-wells who deal in lies and deceit. You are an honest woman, Tauriel; never afraid to speak your mind or to speak for what you believe is right."
"Thank you," she whispers.
"I'll do it. Arradon's music will be showcased next week at the Feast of Isilmë. Send him to speak with the royal musicians."
"Really?" she beams.
Thranduil nods, relishing in her happiness.
"Wait," she starts, smile slipping. "If you do this, it's only going to infuriate Lord Haewon. He'll see it as a betrayal."
"Well, perhaps it is time for him to taste some of his own medicine."
Thranduil had already thought about Haewon's displeasure as soon as she mentioned the familial rift. He hopes it will drive Haewon into action, giving him the opportunity to see what the councilman is really up to.
Tauriel yawns beside him, and tries to hide it.
"You are exhausted, aren't you?"
"Yes," she laughs, "Arradon has really been wearing me out."
Thranduil ignores the prickle at the back of his mind from the ease in which the other man's name falls from her lips.
"You should retire for the night. Let me walk you to your chambers," he offers.
"Oh, that isn't necessary."
"I insist."
"Um, thank you."
The halls are deserted at this late hour, and their journey is uninterrupted. They walk in comfortable silence, each shooting glances at the other out of the corner of their eyes when they think it won't be noticed.
He leaves her at her door with a quiet goodnight and a bow, each step as he walks away feeling heavier than the last.
X
Tauriel climbs into bed with an odd fluttering in her chest. Something that feels vaguely familiar, and yet altogether foreign at the same time.
As she drifts off her mind plays her a lullaby, sung in a voice that makes her sure she must have imagined it.
The next morning Tauriel is bobbing with excitement when she meets Arradon on the training pitch. He's still a good twenty feet away from her when she spills the good news.
"He said yes!" she bursts, bounding over to him. "The King, he said yes. He's going to showcase your music at the Feast of Isilmë next week!"
"No!" he says, disbelieving.
"Yes!"
Arradon runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in shock.
"Come with me," he says after a moment, holding out his hand.
"What about training?" she asks.
"You could use a break. Please?"
Tauriel takes his hand and follows him.
Arradon leads her through hallway after hallway until they come to rest outside of an area she's never been before.
When he opens the door and she follows him through, Tauriel stares around in awe. There are hundreds upon hundreds of musical instruments lining the walls.
"This is the hall of music," Arradon explains. "It's open to the public, but few ever use it. All of these instruments are available to anyone to play. This is where I taught myself when father would not aid my thirst for knowledge."
"It's beautiful."
"I want to play for you," he explains. "I haven't shared my music with anyone for hundreds of years, and I want you to be the first."
"Arradon," Tauriel sighs, "that is so kind. I would love to hear you play."
He walks to the furthest wall removing an instrument from its mount; a violin.
He strikes a few notes and then pauses to turn the knobs on the neck, tuning the instrument.
When he next begins to play, Tauriel has trouble finding her breath.
The melody he strums is so beautiful, and haunting. It feels as if he is pulling each note from her very soul.
She stands mesmerized, rooted to the spot, until his final note fades. Only then does she realize she is once again crying.
He lowers the instrument slowly, staring at her imploringly, but refusing to ask the question he desperately needs answered.
"Oh, Arradon," she breaths, "that was exquisite. I—I just…"
Tauriel can't find the words. Instead she falls back on what the mortals taught her and she crosses the room to wrap her arms around him.
He laughs nervously, and pats her on the back after a slight pause.
Neither are aware of eyes watching them from the doorway.
Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for your support, I love hearing from you! The Elvish in the lullaby is probably a very terrible translation, so I apologize, and yes I know it only rhymes in English, but oh well... I wanted to make make the next feast some sort of canon holiday or celebration (as this should be taking place somewhere in January, as Durin's Day falls in November), but the Elvish Calendar is strange and very difficult for me to decipher, sooo yeah. Hope you are okay with totally bogus celebrations!
Isilmë - Moonlight