There was only one corpse in Erebor's necropolis that was not of a dwarf. It needed lots of arguments, tears and shouts, but the body Thranduil prohibited his people to take back to Mirkwood found its resting place amongst the tombs of the dwarves.

"The one who chose to fight at our side will not be laid to burn with orc carcasses. She will be stowed amongst our princesses, and may Mahal grant her spirit the peace she didn't find in life."

Thorin made his point, and with these words Tauriel's body was taken to be prepared for burial. The one who longed for the stars would rest under stone, and no honours would be enough to compensate the elven undying life she spent to save Kíli.

His body was less broken than Fíli's, but the same could not be said about his spirit.

"I must see her. I must see Tauriel."

Kíli's plea went unheard or ignored by every healer designated to tend the royal family until the only words heard from him were I must see Tauriel and Get out to anyone who didn't offer at least some kind of understanding to his plea.

Until word was sent to him.

"If the healers allow it, be at Durin's Waiting Chambers when possible."

-x-

The wheelchair crossed the long corridors to the mortuary area with a squeak that sounded like the wail of a weeper. Fitting, Kíli thought as they approached the wide doors that guarded the place. Dwalin stopped the chair and squatted in front of the lad before opening them.

"Are you sure, laddie?" Asked the burly dwarf, compassion in his eyes.

"Dwalin… I must see her, Dwalin! I must say my farewell, I must…"

His voice faltered and Dwalin sighed, shaking his head. It would not be easy. It never was.

The doors ringed in their hinges and revealed a stone slab in the middle of the living stone. A single ray of light shone on it, revealing the sad figure of a still body. Dwalin pushed the chair closer, swallowing his own sadness. He never trusted elves, nor women – how could you trust someone who bled four days per month and didn't die? – but that she-elf was different. She gave up her own people to help the Company, and her own life for Kíli's sake. Kíli was so dear to Dwalin's heart, the nephew he never had and never would have. He was not Dís' brother, but Thorin's brother-in-arms, besides second cousin. Kíli and Fíli were his charge, they have always been.

And he failed them.

Failed them when he let those courageous younglings do what a whole patrol should have done. He let them walk into danger, right into Azog's trap, whilst he and Thorin took care of a bunch of stupid goblin mercenaries. Doesn't matter the bunch counted a hundred; they could have finished the goblins together and scout the Ravenhill guardhouse together. Maybe then Fíli would have been spared of the wound that almost cost his life and that would grant him a limp for life; maybe then Bolg would have been stopped before he pierced Tauriel's heart with the weapon meant for Kíli; maybe…

That single sunray lightened Tauriel's face, a serious face decorated with delicate freckles; her hands rested on her breast, holding her hunting knives close to her heart. The oils and ointments that preserved her body from decay exhaled an inebriating scent that filled the room with sadness.

"You came."

A deep voice sounded from the shadows, startling both dwarves. Kíli reached for a bow that wasn't on his back, and Dwalin took a couple of fast steps in the direction of the voice.

"Why are you here in this sacred…"

"The same as you." Answered Legolas, cutting Dwalin short. "It's my lot to present my farewell to one I… cared for."

"This is no place for… for…"

"This is the right place for those who… cared for… Tauriel, Dwalin." Kíli said, hurt in his voice. "Don't disturb her with your anger. Legolas did his best, once informed of the truth."

"The son of that…"

"The disowned son of a king, aye, who gave up his heritage for the sake of justice." Kíli turned to the blond elf, bowing his head slightly. "I beg you forgive my kinsman for his outburst, master Legolas."

Legolas bowed, a hand on his heart.

"Apologies accepted. It might be hard to forgive someone who captured you and put you in a dungeon, even if this person was only performing his duty."

A low growl in Dwalin's throat showed he was not all right with the exchange of pleasantries. The dead woman was an elf, nonetheless, and he had to bow his head to this fact.

"I'll leave you to mourn your losses. In case of need, I'll be right behind those doors, do you understand me?"

Warning given, Dwalin retreated to the corridor, leaving brunet and blond to watch over Tauriel's body. The silence got more and more uncomfortable, until Kíli broke it.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question.

The elf lifted his eyes to meet the dwarf's.

"You still love her."

"What's the difference? She's no more amongst us."

Legolas shook his head and diverted his eyes, considering how to explain things.

"I loved Tauriel, her beauty, her strong spirit… A part of me believes she loved me too, in a way. But… Most of all, she loved freedom, and justice, and…"

"To be with you would give her neither?" Risked Kíli.

"To be with my father's heir would give her neither."

"I've heard you've been disowned. This would change things."

"This I was. But I fear it was too late to bring her back to me."

Kíli tried to guide his wheelchair closer to Tauriel's body, and Legolas hurried to help him.

"She loved you already. And you love her still. I envy your love, dwarf, that can reach beyond the veils of death."

"What do you mean?" Kíli's hand, which was about to touch the still fingers of his beloved one, halted.

"To be an elf means to be at once in the living world and in the spirit world. Tauriel ceased to exist only in the living world. Don't forget this."