Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's Hobbit nor Peter Jackson's Hobbit series. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Inspired by a tumblr post by mistergandalf and an accompanying illustration by lanimalu, relating to the idea that Thranduil is somehow the pie maker and runs around the battlefield raining accidental miracles all over the damn place. This story is told in the point of view of Tauriel and has a Killiel pairing focus along with a heavy dose of Thranduil for flavor. This is my first time writing this pairing (or any of these characters) so I hugely appreciate any and all feedback/constructive criticism you have to offer.

Warnings: Takes place directly after the last canon scene in BOFA between Tauriel and Thranduil. Contains movie spoilers, implied crossover with Pushing Daisies, hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, very mild sexual content, angst and a surprisingly happy ending. Everyone lives au, naturally.

New Growth (adorns an old tree)

"Because it was real."

An age might have passed as she lingered in her grief. A hundred thousand dances between the moon and stars before she was aware of her King's steps. Unable to summon the energy to startle or even bow her head when he sank low beside her. Trading silences as she carded her fingers through the dark hair pooled in her lap.

Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'.

It was only when she looked up, letting her gaze be captured, that she saw her own loss reflected. Seeing him truly for the first time, as a survivor of love lost. A widower of sorrow and empty songs. A father. A husband. An ellon. A King. She understood now. Realizing in that moment she knew him better than anyone. Even his own son. His vulnerability was a gift he gave her. One she knew she should be grateful for, knew she should give him some sign of her feelings, but found herself unable to express even one inch of the sickly jumble aching in her throat. Threatening to choke her from the inside out as the future spanned, barren and bleak in her mind's eye.

If this is love, I do not want it.

Take it from me.

Please.

"The love was real," he said again, words akin to a whisper in their gentleness as the dying light caught on the silver of his crown. "But fragile and new. As delicate as a spring bloom in the deepest cold of winter. You are strong. You will recover."

Like you did? A dark voice inside her whispered. She'd rather sail. She'd rather take her love into the undying lands and bury it in a cairn so deep not even the depths of time could weaken it. She would rather die a thousand times over than risk her soul becoming as jaded as his.

Her eyes must have said it all. They always did. Even in her youth she'd never been able to hide anything from him, not for long, anyway. But to his credit he did not bring her to task for what he saw there. Instead he turned to Kili's still form, ancient eyes flickering swiftly -from wound to wound - before he tilted his head in surprise.

His long quicksilver hair rippled, cresting like ocean waves across the earthiness of blood-splattered iron as he looked upon the grandson of Thrain with an expression she did not recognize. And while it pained her - a possessive part of her taking issue at the interruption to her grief - she couldn't help but be jarred out of her silent mourning.

"I sense no gold sickness in him," the Elf-King remarked, skimming the pale of his palm – porcelain-warm and graceful – a hair's breadth from his skin like a great serpent tasting the air. She forced herself to follow his gaze when she realized he was staring fixedly at the horizon, as if he could see something she could not. Concentration tracing temporary lines across half-shadowed features as somewhere in the distance a Dwarvish horn shattered the still.

"There is no taint of gold in his blood. He was pure. The bane of his line held no power over him. Not in life and not in death. He owes that to the strength of his mother. What little the sickness affected her, she did not pass on to her sons."

His mother.

The one he'd made his promise to.

The one who knew her son enough to etch those runes deep into polished stone.

As if by sheer force of will a mother's love could keep a safe a treasured, yet reckless son.

"Tauriel?"

Tears welled up in the back of her eyes. She blinked quickly, unashamed when the sting was harsh enough that she was forced to close them. She kept the hand she'd closed around the rune tightly captured. Smoothing back the coarse curls from his face before rubbing calloused pads over the smoothness of her cheek. Memorizing the feel of it as a foreboding sort of coolness stole across his skin. Stealing even the newness of his death from her as the warmth of life left him.

Our time was so short, a'maelamin.

Mankoi? Why did you leave me?

"Tauriel, will you return with me?"

She nodded mutely having no words to speak of the devastation within her. Trusting him, like she once had, with the blind faith of an elfing not yet grown as she trembled inside her skin. Purpose. She needed a purpose. She needed to know who she was now that the spark had guttered itself within her. Would she have the strength to endure? Or would she sail?

She looked up at him desperately, vision blurred behind watery eyes when his hand fell across her shoulder. Firm and strong in a way that belayed the unspoken emotion in his expression as he bid her to rise.

"It is time," he replied gently, as if to answer her silent question before he rose, a birch-bark pillar of grace and tempest-strength as the wind feathered through his hair. Highlighting the dents in his breast plate as the sinking sun reflected its own light two-fold.

A part of her distantly marvelled when her feet held her weight, feeling a queer weakness in her bones as she leaned down and carefully settled her dwarf to rest, tucking his braids behind his ears before pausing reluctantly. Fingers curling around the wideness of his palms for a smattering of beats, flirting with the idea before returning empty handed, leaving the rune fast in the center.

Gift or not.

Promise or not.

She would not rob a mother of such a keepsake.

"What should we do?" she asked, hardly recognizing the ruined lilt of her voice as they stared off into the distance together, keen eyes following the wavering ranks that made up the front lines of the battlefield.

"We will take him to his kin and those that knew him best."

She tipped back her head, chastened in a way she knew he had not meant. For it was true. It seemed so strange to be devastated by such a fleeting thing. They had only just started. Sharing chaste nothings and only a handful of words exchanged between them. She must look like a child to him, an elfing crying over consecrated ground. Lingering over a love so new she didn't even know the flavor of his kiss or the rasp of his hair against her skin.

She was aware of her lord removing his gauntlets as she mourned the experiences she would never have. She would never know the pleasure of taking his braid. Or the sound of his voice, rough edged and wracked as he found his peak. She would never know the steady strength of him beside her as they ran through the forest of her birth, exploding into the starlight to dance and sing. To tip over the edge of the world and fall into each other's embrace as the stars stood witness to their union. Teaching the trees the cadence of their song as they found their pleasure in each other, learning and hungry until she lost him to their happy exhaustion and watched him sleep until she could know him thus again.

"If you will allow me?"

It was a request. Not a command. From one wounded lover to another, it was a boon he granted her, much like the first. She swallowed hard, understanding the moment for what it was as he waited for her tremulous nod before leaning down, adjusting the pommel of his sword as he made to pick him up.

The thing in her throat tightened, clawing and thick as a fresh wave of tears threatened to come forth. For there was meaning even to this. A measure of respect she had not seen her King level towards anyone in all her years. It harkened back to an ancient accord that had once existed between the Eldar and the other races. Born when a long forgotten King of Men bore the body of a fallen elleth across plains and mountains, returning her to the arms of her love in a show of allegiance and understanding. Sparking a friendship that lasted beyond memory and time and a legend that lasted longer, after all recollection of name and place had been lost.

She almost looked away when her King's hands curled around his shoulder, gently hefting him in his arms so that when he rose, Kili was cradled in the curve of his broad chest. Small and child-like against the burnished sheen of his armor. And it seemed again that her lord was not unaffected. For he looked down at his burden with ageless eyes, like he were seeing another in his place as he seemed to look beyond the face and into the soul.

Such a pity.

Such a waste.

A single tear trickled down her cheek as she took up Kili's fallen sword, imagining that she could feel the echoes of his blows as the steel rang with the song of his fierceness. Of his loyalty and rage, love and desperation when he felt his death draw near, but fought fiercely as if to spite the Valar themselves.

For his brother.

For her.

For them.

Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa.

"So young…" Thranduil murmured, silver hair intermingling with the darker as the youngling's stubble appeared stark against the pallor of his ruddy skin. She would admit she knew little of dwarves, little of the world beyond Mirkwood's borders. But she had sensed his youth – as clear and innocent as a new day dawning – from the very moment she'd laid eyes on him.

Indeed, the nature of their guests incited great excitement, especially amongst the younger guards, most of which had never seen one of their kind. Forced to listen to her fellows as they teased and gossiped in their own tongue, marching the company through the forest and into the central Kingdom as the dwarves grumbled and cursed. The topic of the two younger ones, Kili and the little orange-haired one with the slingshot, had been almost as cut throat as the betting pool that'd quickly sprung up regarding the silver-beard with the ax-blade stuck in his skull.

She'd remained silent, following in Legolas' wake as she listened quietly. Finding her gaze straying to the back of the dwarven archer more than once as Carandol and Minuialwen bickered over beard lengths versus age and Veryamorcon grumbled to no one in particular about the blond dwarf's affinity for hidden blades, being sure to give him a helpful shove whenever the dwarf turned around to glare. If she'd been less distracted she might have wondered on the elder brother's ability to ruffle Veryamorcon's near infamous calm.

It was only when Thranduil turned, leading the way back into the caverns, that the dwarf's hand slipped off his lap, falling limply into empty air as the older ellon paused. She waited respectfully, heart heavy, as her King adjusted his stance, transferring the weight of him so that he could retrieve it. Bearing his blooded blade as if it held within it a death of its own.

So deep were her thoughts that she almost missed it. Catching the golden arc out of the corner of her eye the moment her King's hand fell naked upon her beloved's skin. Bringing life back to a heart that still keened with the loss of it as Kili coughed, chest fluttering as the dwarf sucked in a breath of air and then another. Arching within the Elf-King's hold as his wounds knitted closed and his warm brown eyes sprung open.

"Who in Mahal's name are you-oh. …Uh, Tauriel?"

It was only by the grace of their kind that her King did not drop him outright.

"I don't understand," Kili said again, gripping her hand tightly, like any moment she might be taken from him. Looking from her to Thranduil in clear bewilderment.

"You are not alone, my love," she returned, melodious in her joy as she clasped him close. Claiming his attention for herself as she welcomed every inch of him into her, wanting to sing for the pure impossibility of it all as their lips brushed. Sending sparks down her skin as she shuddered, soul arching and intertwining with his as he threw his arms around her and held her close.

It was only then, looking over her love's shoulder from where she knelt, that she realized her King was still there, standing stock still and uncertain. His thick brow in danger of being lost in silver-pale as he blinked in shock. Staring down at his hands, eyes wide in a way she might have thought comical any other moment than this.

"My lord?"

"I do not-" he started, not once looking up from his hands. Neglecting to finish when Kili broke away from her, seeming to have enough sense to pry his eyes away as the dwarf stood before him and inclined his head in thanks. Expression alight with a dozen different layers of genuine gratitude as the ellon returned it without thought. Sharing a moment, rich in its silence, as if the animosity between their two peoples weighed less than a feather's weight.

Her smile could not possibly grow any wider.

Somehow the Valar had heard her prayers.

She rose, concerned when Kili jerked, guilty and sudden as if a distant string had plucked at the very heart of him as he looked between them, seizing the sword she'd dropped and sheathing it quickly.

"My brother," Kili implored, dark hair whirling as he turned, flaring out like the dark span of a raven's wing as his lips skidded through a downturn. "He fell- Azog killed him, please?"

"Yes," Thranduil agreed, as close to breathless as she'd ever seen him. His expression a queer mixture of wonder and uncertainty as her dwarf's braids snapped back - bounding back to her - his face a rictus of childish certainty and unsteady hope as he grabbed her hand and tugged her into the caverns.

The rock appeared to give way to him as he ran. As if the very landscape recognized the tread of one of its own and moulded itself appropriately. It was all she could do but follow. Her hand still tightly clasped in his as he led the way down unforgiving shards of mountain-bone – scattering snow and pebbles with the nimbleness a mountain ram – steady and sure.

And while it was only a whisper on the edge of her awareness, she knew her lord was following close behind. There was a lightness to his soul now, something visceral and new. Something that renewed the gladness in her heart until she swore it might burst.

Something had changed within him.

Something good.

Something better.

Stronger.

True.

They found his brother at the bottom, heavy and sprawled in a heap of blood-sodden armor and golden hair. Sightless eyes staring blankly above as the great eagles of the North circled and dove, turning the tide of the battle as the ranks of the enemy turned tail and ran.

This time she was able to stand witness when her Lord's touch brought back the life that had been lost. Allowing Fili to awake in the arms of his kin, grasping each other tightly and pressing their foreheads together as his brother's ragged breaths rang out into the still.

She couldn't help but seek out the eyes of her lord. Feeling as if she were watching something that even time itself had not seen as he rose, marble on twisted yew as the wind slackened. As if the very earth itself fell silent. He found her gaze then, eyes alight with questions she couldn't begin to answer before a veil fell over them and his stance shifted, as impassable and willful as the gnarled roots of the deepest green.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. Because soon enough, as was the way with dwarves, chaos reigned. Finding herself in the middle of it as the brother's knocked heads in clear affection. Looking on almost indulgently as they embraced, Kili tugging on his brother's braids as they chattered on in a confusing mixture of Khuzdul and common, pausing to gesture back at them here and there. The love between them clear.

Her heart soared, thrumming with joy as Kili sent her a roguish wink. Trying to fend off his brother when Fili caught sight of his torn clothes and bloody skin, demanding answers none of them truly had as she stepped closer to her King. Feeling the need to shore up his presence, if only by the smallest measure, as she watched his eyes stray again to the pale of his palms. Examining each finger as though, hidden within the whorls and lines, he might find the answers he sought.

Their reunion was cut short, however, when both brothers fell still. Straining to catch the whispers of it as the tail end of a sob flirted with the wind that curled in from the east. She mirrored her lord, cocking her head as the song came again. It was a sound of lament. Of a small voice and mighty heart breaking slowly as a handful of muffled sobs rebounded through ice and stone.

"Bilbo!" Kili cried, leaping to his feet and looking excited for a smattering of beats before reality settled in, bittersweet and heartbreaking before-

"Thorin…" the brothers said as one, nearly whipping each other with their braids as they looked to her King with twinned expressions of hope and glee as the ellon stiffened. Appearing as though he'd only just realized the full breadth of the gift he'd been granted as every inch of him instinctively called foul.

She swallowed a giggle by less than an arrow's length when he pulled himself to his full height. The line of his mouth pinched with irritation, the ghost of a sulk threatening to disgrace his noble bearing.

Oh by the Valar, it was too much!

She pressed a hand to her mouth, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile as an expression - put upon and completely beyond patience - spread across her lord's fine features. Unable to help but laugh as all three of them rounded on her. Their uncanny silence only adding to the richness of the moment as the happy peals rang out in the crisp air like the emotion turned flesh.

Hail to the King, indeed.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.

Reference:

• Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au' – "my heart shall weep until it sees thee again."

• Ellon: elvish term for "male elf."

• A'maelamin: "my beloved."

• Mankoi?: "why?"

• Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa: "your heart is that of a lion."

• Carandol: male elvish name meaning "red-head."

• Minuialwen: female elvish name meaning: "dawn."

• Veryamorcon: a male evlish name meaning: "bold bear."

• Valar: the gods.