A/N

Hey Dearies,

I can't believe that the last chapter was posted two years ago. Jesus, what did I do?! I feel terrible to have kept you guys waiting and would be more than suprised if after all this time you are still on board. It was not a lack of motivation that stopped me from coming up with the next chapter-more like I really had no idea how to structure it. I knew what I wanted to tell but just didn't know how to. This and well I finally have my Bachelor's degree in German Studies. Half of 2016 was spent with me sitting in front of my computer typing away at my final 35 pages long paper. Still have no idea how I survived this.

During my absence I also finally found time to watch the extended versions of the Hobbit trilogy and man, was that a letdown. Really bothered me that there were no additional Mirkwood and Elf scenes. I mean, what on earth PJ? Battle of the Five Armies was basically 20 minutes of more battle scenes and I sat there and was like: WHAT?! No heart-wrenching funeral scene of at least 5 minutes? No Thranduil/Bilbo scene and hinted friendship? No hint what happened to Tauriel afterwards? Argh, why? So, yeah, I am still keen on giving us a version and an ending we all deserved.

In this chapter we are going to find out how Tauriel came to her neckless and what she had to do in order to be appointed Captain of the Guard. It's a little bit of a transition chapter that sets up relevant plot points and character motivations. It also contains the (at least for me) core problem of why Thranduil is against the idea of Tauriel and Legolas, since I have established that it has nothing to do with her being "a lowly silvan elf". The prevalent theme is trust and love. Also the flashback scene in the second half takes place in the year 2760.

Warning: Excessive usage of Sindarin, Tauriel finally being badass and in battle mode half the time, some violence and action, canon divergence regarding the plot of DoS, some Game of Thrones reverneces, flirty Kili and overprotective Legolas.

As always: Elvish translations are provided at the end.

Enjoy the read and may the force be with you! (Seriously The Last Jedi trailer hyped me up so badly).

Chapter: A Dance of Daggers

"KILI!"

The piercing outcry broke over her like a storm of ice and fire. Only once before in her lifetime Tauriel remembered having felt this incontrollable mannish impulse of searing heat and a nameless coldness joined together under her skin, forming into a fear so powerful it might shatter her whole.

Fractured sunlight on color stolen leaves and grass when mist and rain joined and made revel together under the trees. Laughter – so much laughter and songs and light. Then a rain of black arrows. And death cries. Her father's voice, laced with sheer fright: Noro, Tauriel! Avadiro! Gwao hi!

Blood of Eldar. Spilled. A cold hand closed around Tauriel's heart. Every heartbeat resisting against its hold carried a name.

Kili. Kili. Kili.

No more. She would have no more of it.

And thus, as the air of the darkest day returned, Tauriel felt a raging fire stir from under the shadow of fear, the moment her ears picked up the soulless shrieks and foul speech of orcs. And suddenly all darkness shrank away into the evil shadow from whence it came and a flame―kind and warm, though no less dangerous―settled amidst the song of her heart.

I always thought Elves to be like sunlight―raising life whenever they touch something … but Elves are cold―like a stone overcast with ice and snow. And they're distant―as if they're living a life somewhere else. But you … you're really here. You're like fire.

Ever so softly the old and new rhythm found together, tones and words spoke to one another and laughed and embraced until a new song aligned with the beating of her heart. A fierceness, challenging even to the one of the Great Wolves of old, overtook her will. Stern now was her mood and her mind clear again.

The last line of knee-high bushes and murmuring trees brushed against her leg as she passed by, and her fire flared upon what her elven eyes bestowed on her to see: the Elven-Guards had all fallen and the causeway was overrun by orcs. She sensed even more of them approaching, jumping over the wall and out of the forest, closing in on the stranded company of dwarves in their barrels with nowhere else to go but forward, down the Forest River if only the gates were open.

All but one: Kili was laying next to the gate lever, a black arrow deeply stuck in his upper leg. Another sound of anguish escaped his lips and it was then, when Tauriel's eyes fell on his face―the cheekiness and merriness gone, replaced by pain and ashen by sickness―that she set her first arrow out of many more to come free, slaying the orc nearest to him, ere it even could turn towards him.

Kili saw her then and the same kind of wonder and relief filled his eyes as upon their first meeting in the woods.

Begone! she wanted to cry in a voice like the ring of steel, I will strike all of you down, if you touch him! but words failed her, for the fire in her heart drove her forward and arrow after arrow was released from her bow to bring death and ruin upon those who sought to spread misery amongst her people.

On her behalf Legolas' voice roared through the air like a clash of thunder and storm: "Ú-dano i faelas a hyn an unben tanatha le faelas! Elia imbendryn wen! Herio!"

Without a cry or a great noise her company of Elves charged. Out from the shadows of trees and scrubs they lashed, along the river bend and towards the causeway they swept, and they drove through the hosts of evil as a wind among grass.

Legolas was at her side. They moved together and around each other like waves in the sea, drowning their enemy as they went. But the orcs did not waver. Again and again they tried to reach the causeway, and again the Elves cast them down. Presently it became clear that the company of trapped dwarves was their target all along.

Dread and ire washed over the Captain of the Guard once more and on she hasted, hissing and snarling at the foul creatures whilst her daggers swirled.

Suddenly another outcry.

Tauriel looked up. Kili had opened the gates and in a swoosh the dwarf laden barrels rushed one after the other down the river. Tauriel caught sight of Kili as he tried to reach one of the last barrels; one of the dwarves calling frantically his name to urge him on, before another orc charged at her from behind.

Tauriel dodged, grabbed his outstretched arm and threw the orc over her shoulder down to the ground. She plunged her dagger in his heart, but had to roll out of reach in time to avoid the blade aimed for her head from another and when he came at her with reckless hate, Tauriel pounced on him from her crouched position, swinging her legs around his throat and with a swift motion, breaking the orc's neck. She fell down with him.

Now as her own breath rustled against her ears in rage, she realized that the fighting around her began to still. There were no more orcs. They had moved on, hunting down what they came for and most of her company of Elve-Hunters had chosen to chase after them.

The elleth collected her second dagger still stuck to the hilt in the chest of the other orc and came by one of her slain company members as she went. A friend and comrade in arms she had deemed invincible and fated to wander through all ages to come.

Faelir.

Tauriel stilled where she stood and a grave anguish befell her, tearing through her like a serrated knife. His skull was broken; blood-smeared was his golden hair and ashen his once so kind face. All warmth gone from his eyes. Grey they were―grey like an autumn storm dancing with bitter frost and mist alike. Now they starred up at her, their last moment forever captured in a thought not meant to be seen by those left behind. Her daggers slipped form her hold and Tauriel sat herself down at once. She bent over his head, one hand gently closing his eyes while she pressed her lips against his forehead in farewell.

"Hiro hen hîdh ab 'wanath," she whispered, allowing herself this fleeting moment of grieving and remembering before she rose with a violent heave again. Care was wasted on the dead, for they have already passed on and won't look back. But there were still others.

A quick glance in Kili's direction told her that the dwarf had not reached the barrel in time. He was left behind, lying on his back, his face distorted in pain.

"Secure our borders," commanded Tauriel as more and more guards gathered around the causeway and the woods surrounding them. She put her daggers back into their shared sheath. "Tend to the wounded. Make haste!"

In the blink of an eye she herself reached the causeway. One guard was already at Kili's side when she knelt down beside him.

"Kili!" Tauriel breathed, almost afraid to call his name as if he could fade away and his name along with him, if she dared to say it out too loud.

The young dwarf looked up at her, smiling. It was this radiant, teasing kind of smile Tauriel recognized as his and which lay bare the secrets in his heart for all the world to see.

"You saved me again," said he and the elleth realized, neither he nor his kin had hoped for help to come from the Elves. "Looks like this is going to be our habit. Can't say I complain."

His wink and playful attitude was lost on her. Tauriel shook her head slightly. "Reckless, indeed."

"Some would call it bravery. Some would even go as far as to write great lores about it. The Tale of Kili the brave Reckless – I like it. Don't you like it?"

She could not hide the small smile but her heart was too troubled to give way to a full blossomed one. Her hand found the side of his face, assessing the heated skin as well as offering some comfort. Kili was already burning up. She felt a twinge. No common arrow then but something even more lethal and wicked.

Suddenly Kili's hand reached up, the tips of his fingers brushing affectionately against her cheek. She froze, only now becoming aware of how he leaned into her touch.

"Why did you help me?" he asked in a murmur, entranced that once again she was the one there for him when he was in great danger and in even greater need of aid.

She shied away.

"Hey," he tried a second time, guiding her face gently back to him. "Why did you help me?" He was on a road the like of which he had never walked on before and for all the rawness and uncertainty of it all, he felt no fear.

The elleth could only tell what she knew and what she knew was that she did not wish for the young dwarf to die before his time. There were still many great things for him to see and understand. He should be allowed to grow old hereafter, hearing the songs and tales his kin made about his bravery.

To him she offered: "As I said once before: Someone needs to attend to the prisoners."

Kili chuckled in response, his eyes crinkling in the corners but all too soon the liveliness died away and the herald of death returned.

"Captain Tauriel." Feren's voice travelled towards her as his company of Elves joined her on the causeway.

Tauriel rose, turning away from Kili. Legolas was not among them. Her eyes followed the Forest River as it disappeared in the distance like a silver snake in the undergrowth.

"Enwenno hen," commanded she. "Boe de nestad."

Two guards came forth and though they tried to be gentle in their holds as to not cause the dwarf further pain, Kili did not see reason to their kindness. He bucked and struggled against their grip like a wild horse and flung a number of vile curses at them once they had helped him to his feet and started to guide him away.

"Let me go! What are you doing?" he cried, throwing his head around to look at Tauriel. "Tauriel! What are they doing?"

"They have orders to take you to the House of Healing," answered she. "You need rest."

"What?! No! I am fine! I have to leave! Tell them to let me go! Tauriel! Tauriel!"

Ere either one of the guards could end his defiance, Tauriel rushed forward and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Quel esta."

He stopped immediately.

"Tauriel – " Kili uttered in surprise but was silenced by her voice chanting words at him he did not understand and though she spoke them oh so softly, Kili felt a forceful command addressed to the core of his very being. Soon he complied. He felt save. His head fell back, his eyes closed and one of his last thoughts circled around Gloin and that he might have been right about there being elf witches of terrible power.

Once Tauriel was certain the young dwarf was indeed put to an earned and much needed rest, she let the guards take him away, reminding them to make haste.

She looked at Feren and asked: "My Lord Legolas – where is he?"

~oOo~

Everything must change or it shall fade.

Such is the nature of all things. A shadow grows in the dark. The laugh of a child splinters into small pieces of light. Something good and pure turns into something as unforgiving and black as the oncoming wall of night, and friendship may blossom among those who deemed their dreams lost in the rain.

So it ever was, so will it always be. Nothing is ever meant to last.

Tauriel felt a peculiar hum in her soul. Another unrest had made itself known to her that grey morning, cast in late winds of snow and wonder. Proud and unbent like an oak tree she stood, her head raised towards the east where somewhere in the distance, forest and land give way to a large, kind lake. She looked further and saw the western sky grow dim, but still cast in a golden light. Fragile snowflakes fell on her golden armor, fading into memory once they landed.

Not too far away Feren was standing guard and so full of mirth and cheekiness was his heart at the sight of the slow dance of the snow, she heard its chuckles as clear as the gurgling of the forest river below their feet and the sighing of the causeway and the yawn of the earth.

Spring was upon them but winter offered his hand for one last dance, tracing his fingertips over early shy blossoms and young grass. Under the soft smile of the sun, his care sparkled like the stars.

It was then, as they watched the shores and the woods for any sign of peril and those who carry it with them, that Tauriel felt it. Something was bound to happen in this time of growth, this eleventh day of ethuil, almost two hundred and forty years after her and Legolas had left the halls of their King behind. She did as she had promised: she had served her people, protected their lands and the ones dear to her heart and though it had been enough for a long time, it was not anymore.

Peace within their borders meant nothing to her when the world around them turned into ash.

Dragons had reappeared in the far North, Thrór had returned to Erebor and Rohan was under attack from west and east. Word of great suffering and loss of life in Eriador and Rohan had reached the Halls of the Elven-King, yet Thranduil had shown no regard for those, whom he of all should be able to feel compassion for. Scouts had heard whispers of a rising peril in Gundabad, a stronghold overrun by orcs and abandoned by the dwarves in the mid Second Age. For years it had been rumored to be populated by orcs but no one knew for sure what evils lay beyond the Red Tower.

The stronghold was far away enough from their borders to not pose an immediate threat but still close enough that it cannot be overlooked or underestimated. Tauriel knew though that her King would not allow for any investigations to take place and Legolas had refused to go near the mountain during their time of wandering but failed to give her his reasons. A joined past was buried at Gundabad and Tauriel wondered what pain beyond measure it must have caused both Legolas and Thranduil for them to avoid this place at all costs.

There was a shift in the air and all of a sudden the elleth became aware of a presence and the sound of a pair of swift, light footed feet. Both she had to spare during the long time of winter. Alas, it came to her as no surprise when the playful side in her awoke at once, flooding her senses with a squirreling merriness. It urged her to be daring and so Tauriel swirled around, ready to charge.

Undetected, a smile curled around her lips as she took in the appearance of the Elven-Prince standing as close before her as the tip of her outstretched spear allowed him to. The bow in his hand hummed in anticipation, an arrow pointed right at her.

"Ingannen le Orch,"said she, pleased by the thought that he must have given in to the very same impulse upon approaching her as she had.

"Cí Orch im," answered Legolas, picking up her playfulness with ease, "dangen le."

She smirked but then a stern look crossed over his fair face. "Tauriel."

Something was amiss. Something always was amiss whenever he felt the need to call her name as if it brought great pain and misery to him.

Forthwith she retreated, lowering her stance and spear and with a bow she enquired: "Hîr nín, Legolas?"

"I come to you not as your Lord but as your Captain."

She looked at him then. More grim and darker has the shade of his eyes become, less consumed by light than by shadow. The lightness of younger years was gone, replaced by a sharpness around his lips and along his jaw that matched the steel of the blades he carried around these most stranger days. Tauriel could not help but wonder. She wondered whether she as well had become to look so strange to him as he did to her. Have her eyes lost their smile as did his? Do they still hold the color of mist and dew on young grass in the early hours of spring or have they turned into the forsaken shade of marshland and moor grass? She herself could no longer tell. Strange. So terrifyingly strange.

"And what would my Captain have me do?"

"For today your watch has ended. Arm yourself with a weapon of your choosing and lead your path towards the part of the forest where the Mountains of Mirkwood rise among the trees."

Tauriel tightened the hold on the spear in her hand. "What will I find there if it is my will to follow?"

"If it is your will, the shores of a lonely lake, once surrounded by fields of silver and twilight. Now abandoned, though not yet forgotten by our people. A quaint place. Full of voices. You will have to decide for yourself which one to follow," said Legolas. There was a slight hesitation and then his voice carried on, soft like wood rain: "But beware, you cannot stay in the dark for too long. You would fade, starving and vanishing into madness."

So this day has come and she was due to face the gathering darkness alone, a darkness of their very own, not bestowed on them by the growing evil in the south. Those shadows merely brought forth the shadows that lie within them, spoke to them, lured them out until they took shape and lay bare.

A grave tenderness appeared in his eyes as he carried on: "If it is your fate, ere a new day is upon us, you shall return to these halls."

Legolas looked away and the silence of an unspoken and yet heard fear fell between them. She thought about brushing her hand against his' but did not dare. These gestures had grown fewer and fewer with each decade passing by and now she was uncertain if they were still welcomed.

"A darkness taught by foes is as final as death," answered Tauriel instead. "But the darkness that took root in our hearts, is of the kind that belongs to us. It was crafted in the shaft of our being. Only there it can be unmade."

Legolas did not smile at her words nor seemed to have found comfort in them. He turned around and said: "Aphado nin hi."

And the elleth followed him without question, back to the Halls of the King, down winding stairs and across living bridges made of giant roots, always falling in closely behind his steps.

Presently they entered the armory, exchanging courteous bows and reverent greetings with guards and friends alike as they went. Most of them Tauriel knew by name but all of them pressed their hand against their heart and bowed slightly, a knowing glint in their eyes when they saw her – a sign of goodwill. A promise to meet again. A wild light flamed in her heart, driving away wariness and gloomy thoughts. They had faith in her. The kind of faith that would make them follow her to the ends of time―even to the gates of Mordor itself.

Legolas came to a halt in front of her. They had reached the parts of the armory assigned to the company Tauriel belonged to. A vast quarter curtained off to small spaces for each member with broidered hangings and root-like pillars. The elleth glanced at the folded clothes and lighter breastplate she clad herself in when they roamed the woods or guarded their outer borders, and back at Legolas and all delight Tauriel had felt swelling from within her, flickered down. For tense was her Prince's face as he bid her to lay down all of her armor and to keep no weapons but the one of her choosing. She did not respond but started by stowing her spear away.

He came up behind her and removed the cloak from her shoulders first. Albeit she welcomed the help, she noticed how ever so lightly his touch was – almost as if he was stricken by touching her whilst finding himself unwilling to refrain from doing so.

"Something is troubling you," said she with caution and her keen eyes followed the movement of his fingers unclasping her helmet next. At once long waves of auburn hair fell free, dancing in the lights of the torches like liquid fire. His hand moved to one of the strands near her ear but nothing happened. For all Tauriel knew, it could have been a mere dream deriving from a distant memory only her heart could seize.

As Legolas kept tending to his task, it became clear to her that he would not grant her the recklessness of truth this time.

"Please. It would ease my heart."

Legolas avoided her eyes, but it seemed to her as if he hummed a soft tone under his breath. A gleam of sun through fleeting clouds seemed to wrap around her skin as he reached for the clasps of her shoulder protectors, sliding them down with nothing but the utter most care and it was then, when the frown on his brow deepened, that a suspicion like a fall of cold water washed over her and Tauriel sprang away from him as if burned.

"Man agorech?" she demanded with a ferocity akin to a snarl.

Again Legolas chose not to answer. Neither his bearing nor the expression on his face faltered. Almost imperceptibly he nodded his head at the vambraces around her arms and offered his hand, silently asking her to let him remove them. The dismay within her started to twist like a snake, her suspicion confirmed by his silence.

"I thought, I had your trust! How dare you!"

"You have it," answered Legolas sternly, the blue of his eyes blazing at her upon hearing such misplaced accusation.

"This test was bestowed on me," she whispered, her voice laced with a coldness she recognized as disappointment. "It was bound to happen the moment we returned to your father's halls. You cannot and will not take it away from me."

"These charms are not meant to assist you," he clarified. "They shall protect you – as long as my will is set upon them or death breaks them."

At his words, her ire threatened to flare again and she turned around. Even after all these centuries and trying to teach herself the stillness of thought, it all still felt like fire rushing beneath her fingertips whenever the lust of battle was on her. He did not apologize and she did not expect him to. Angered she removed the vambraces herself.

"You should be aware by now what I am capable and incapable of doing," Tauriel began, just as she shed the coat with the emblems of the Woodland Realm that she wore above her surcoat. The waist belt along with the mighty sword of a guard followed. Both she hang up on the wooden doll. "Do you think so ill of my skills that – "

"You forget yourself," warned he but she pressed on: "If I cannot rely on my strength then I am not worthy. And if you cannot rely on my strength then all of what I have done so far was in naught."

She heard him take a deep steady breath. He was still close, his warmth brushing over her back making it hard to forget and all too soon his hands tried to resume their former task. Tauriel was aware how his fingers reached for the clasps of her breast plate but she decided she could not let him. Again she stepped away from him.

At length in a low hesitating voice he said: "You do not have to prove yourself."

The elleth almost huffed. "Then why are you afraid of my failure?"

Tauriel could tell this was not about her swordsmanship. Legolas taught her everything he knew after Thranduil had chosen to keep her away from him. Legolas had completed her training. Not only fighting and mastering sword and bow but also history and tales of their kin, songs and secrets of the free peoples of Middle Earth. Even some of their language. The rest she discovered for herself. But not everything can be discovered in just one moment. Some things need more than one and others need for a certain time to come.

"The Elven-King always demands something you cannot give him," responded Legolas after a while.

A twinge of fear went through her. "He does? He should not."

"I agree, yet he does it all the same."

Tauriel titled her head to the side as to catch a glimpse of Legolas over her shoulder. "What did he ask of you?"

She heard a faint chuckle and suddenly it was to her as if a spell was broken; a nightmare gone and something in her softened. She has always been in search for something she could not name and Legolas has always shown her how to find an answer if it truly was an answer she sought. Maybe it was not protection he had offered after all but something even more precious.

"I shall tell you upon your return."

And though she felt that she belonged again and the disconnection with herself and with him had eventually passed on into places of memory and good-natured teasing, Tauriel still held on to her resolve and nothing he might have more to say would falter her.

Alas, she said: "Do not think me ungrateful or a fool but if your words hold truth, you will undo these charms and you will never again use them on me."

"You ask the impossible."

It was enough to anger her again but also enough to remind her how close to her heart he was. She asked herself if he understood that when she held his hand, it was because she wanted to, and if she did not, it was because in the silence of her being she had vowed to watch over him, care for him, to answer his kindness with nothing lesser than the promise of her life. Thranduil was her King and Legolas her Prince. To serve a King meant to be alone.

"Tinu nín."

She listened but did not turn around.

"Adolo an enni."

Legolas would be waiting – needed be forever, if she did not return.

His steps long had died down in the distance and the only thing left of him were his words, lingering around her like a memory of dewy mornings of unshadowed sun, as Tauriel stowed away the last pieces of her guard armor and slipped on her woodland garb, fashioned after leaves and undergrowth in shape and color, and shielding its wearer from unfriendly eyes. She kneeled down, hands reaching for a dark wooden polished box that resided next to a pair of boots on the ground. On top of the box elven joiners had engraved a name: Anorion.

Tauriel had already seen many battles and for each of them she could have opened this box. She never did. Not even in the greatest need. She had kept it closed since Fuin Argíl, promising to herself to not defile her father's legacy by choosing this particular weapon before she deemed herself handy enough to carry it.

Her fingers rested on the lid a little while longer and it was to her as if a new strength called for her from within. Inside there lay two twin daggers, once forged to serve and guide her father's fate. And they had until the very end. They had not been fought with since afterwards and in a moment of short hesitation she wondered, if they will let themselves be wielded by her hands as flawlessly and deadly as by her ada's or if their first owner is the only true owner they recognize.

A shuddering whimper escaped her lips as her fingers touched the hilts for the first time, for as she picked the daggers, they nestled against her skin like an extension of her being and her heart was lightened upon this discover. A row of beautiful laughs backed up against her throat in sheer bliss and she set them free.

No, they would not turn against her. As she swirled the slender blades through her fingers, their chuckles rang through the air, as if the daggers were fond of her strength or as if they recognized her and now greeted her like an old friend.

Tauriel could almost not believe it but when she girdled them around her waist, a feeling of unsullied peace settled down on her, adding to the newfound strength rising within her.

And so it came that Tauriel Anorioniel, guard of the Woodland Realm, set out in the hours of twilight to wander from under the young eaves of spring to the Mountains of Mirkwood south of her King's Halls.

It was not as far away as an abandoned place might expected to be. It was even closer than the Old Forest Road. It was also not the first time she wandered these woods alone in fading light. And yet a coldness gathered about her, but she saw and heard no other strange thing other than her own heartbeat and the ones of streams and rivers. They bubbled in their beds as they had ever done whilst the trees still held on to their half lived sleep, every now and then mumbling a view words in their dreams.

It reminded her how dangerous these parts of the world had become.

The elleth sprinted over a tree trunk and the words of her King were suddenly with her, spoken to her and the other young ones all this time ago when they had been allowed to leave the halls for the first time.

Thranduil had told them that once they have taken their first steps, they should never turn around to find out what lies behind them. They would see nothing but once they have done it, they would do it again and this feeling would follow them around until all their days have been spent. It even might grow so strong that they would never want to leave these halls again. If they stood still, they would hear the trees whispering. They would talk to each other and laugh but if they began to call for them, they should not answer.

He had warned them that they would hear things following them and though it should not trouble them, they should be wary, for these woods could hold a great many strange things and not all of them took kindly to Elves.

Like now.

Tauriel thought she heard nothing but the more the mountains came into view towering over the tree lines, the more she seemed to hear a voice singing in the distance.

Above her the sky took to a violet blue shade and a few stars awoke from their slumber, blinking and tinkling faintly. The snow still fell in soft flakes slowly to the ground, covering leaves and yawning grass, blossoms and ever green bushes in thin layer of sparkling white. Here in these parts of the woods the leaves bore a rich green and golden color during spring and summer, and a warm reddish brown in the months of the dying days and rising nights.

In the midst of her thoughts a sudden haste―akin to madness―befell her and she rushed forth, no longer with the swiftness of a deer but with the steadfastness of a wolf on the hunt.

At length she broke through an opening in the lines of trees and stopped. Dark and dangerous lay the lake before her, for the sun had almost passed into the West and the full moon had ridden high enough to greet her with honor and to wish her a night's fair sleep. And there down by the shores grew a lone apple tree. Knotted by old age its branches creaked with every sway in the wind. A crown of half opened snow-white blossoms graced its head and so grave their fragile lives seem to burden the tree that it looked even more weary. Yet, the blossoms hummed in anticipation of what was soon to become a renewed young land.

A good sign. All hope was not lost.

Her eyes moved further and beyond, overpowered now by her heart's sight and to her bewilderment underneath two branches that met like an archway, stood an Elf clad in the rosy fire of twilight, a mighty elven blade attached to the belt around his waist, singing in a voice that was both old and young, beautiful and foul, kind and dangerous. His hair was a long straight drape of auburn red.

Tauriel felt like breaking down right there and then.

The voice touched her soul, slowly at first like the last rain drops left on leaves and growth, after storm and wind long have vanished into memory. But soon she relived and remembered. Everything good. Everything bad. Everything she feared she had forgotten; the many things she still had to tell him, mingled together as the song grew on. Just as she was about to call to him, some of the trees and stone awoke around her with a curious hush and it was only then that Tauriel began to realize. Relief filled her heart but also misery.

The Elf called to plants and undergrowth, gently awakening them from their slumber, encouraging them to grow and spread life. The apple tree shook its branches with a yawn and some of its blossoms began to sail down. They danced together with the flakes of snow until Tauriel could no longer tell which was which. The view mesmerized her and for a terrible long heartbeat she longed for nothing anymore. It was not peace, not rest―it was death. At once the fire within her blazed through the haze. There was only one way to end it.

Blades rang as they were drawn and Tauriel charged. Caution bid her to halt her strike but Tauriel knew that her eyes tried to fool her for her heart spoke loud and clear and what she thought she saw, could not be.

The Elf swirled around, ere her daggers could even brush his skin and Tauriel froze and looked up right into her father's face.

She only remembered him from her memories. Those light green-blue eyes had―for the short time she had been allowed to know them―always harbored the warmth of a summer forest and the calmness of the sea on a cloudless day. It had seemed to her as if her ada must have dwelt more on the sea than in the woods to come by such eyes.

He looked at her long and searchingly and then a shift went through him and his features softened. "How you stand where I once stood. On the very same day all those life times ago. Do you know what I see, pînmaethril nín?"

Tauriel stiffened. She thought, she would never hear him say this term of endearment ever again. It tore her open even more. She shifted her stance, daggers lowered but not put to rest.

"I see myself: the same fears, the same mistakes … the same anger," he added pointedly.

"And you are disappointed."

"No. I fear that you will not understand."

At that, one of his hands came up to her face and a lone strand of auburn hair was gently brushed back behind her ear. Another feather-lightly brush and some of the apple blossoms danced from her hair slowly down to the ground.

He smiled at her then. But it was defiled by both sorrow and remorse. "You have never forgiven me for hurting you. Now that I have done it once, I will do it again. I will have to do it again. You know that―after all it was you who allowed me to have such power."

Tauriel's eyes flashed. Swiftly the elleth dropped on her knee, the clunk of fallen blades rang in her ears like a curse and one of her hands found the place above where her heart was in uproar. She did not offer him her other hand in a display of respect, for her actions spoke as a plea, he may hear her out. "My trust in you has not been shaken."

He chuckled. Once a sound she fell asleep to―now a stranger to her ears. "Clearly not. Yet, it is not as surprising as it seems. After all, what happens to the old stag when the young one has grown up?"

"This is not what I have come for, my Lord."

She looked up and the mist before her eyes lifted like a veil. Auburn hair washed away into the sliver rays of starlight as if all color was drained from this world to reveal that what holds it together in its innermost elements was but the dust of stars. Warm green-blue orbs changed into the keen-sighted but grieved pair of steel-blue eyes worn by the Elven-King. He was clad in the same garb as her; no crown adorned his head, no elegant robe clung to him like it belonged and yet at the same time did not seem to. He looked like Legolas―were it not for the blank hardened coldness on his face and the magnificence and strength his presence emanated, that reminded Tauriel of the snow covered mountains in the distance.

"No?" he inquired half-heartedly, clearly amused by her display. "You have served our people for over two centuries now and yet you still mistake trust for loyalty. Do you think them one and the same?"

The mighty Elven-King was not expecting an answer, for any answer she might give would not do; and thus Tauriel gave none. She starred wide eyed up at him accepting any judgement he may see fit.

"Where trust goes, love will follow," said he and seldom had Tauriel ever heard him speak these words as if they did not bring him great pain. "Loyalty knows no selfishness and there is nothing more selfish in this world than love and all the shapes and shades it can take."

That was when caution failed her once and for all. Her mind slipped: "Surely there can be no real loyalty without devotion―unless you force it."

"And thus, leaving a King in the peril to be either loved or feared? I think not."

Tauriel shuddered, for Thranduil's voice was deprived of any warmth.

"There is one thing you cannot forget: You are mine. One of many but you belong to me. Fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance. This is what was promised. I cannot care for trust."

It was sad. Like a great epic written by the eldest of the old and thus only endured the greed of time to stand as a warning for all the generations to follow.

"And so, I am to serve you knowing you will forsaken me, knowing the only love I might come to know is the one you grant me as my Lord, and if not then I will have wasted my love, for I would have loved you more than you could ever love me. This is not what you have promised," Tauriel answered, her fingers gliding around the hilts of her father's daggers once more. And she repeated his words; the ones that had reminded her Thranduil was glad in heart but poisoned by loss: "Ae boe i le eliathon, im tulithon."

There was nothing but a graceful wave of his hand and suddenly the tip of his mighty sword pointed at her chin, not yet drawing blood but eager for a taste.

"You should feel grateful," hissed the Elven-King, his eyes as unforgiving as the darkness and bleakness of a land condemned to waste. "What you know of love is but a mere fraction of its beauty and ruin. Be content with it and ask for no more. That would be wise."

"Wise," snarled the elleth in disgust, her eyes trained in heed on the blade before her glinting in the unsullied shine of the round moon, now fully risen above the mountaintop. "There is nothing in this world I fear more than solitude."

And with the last word spoken one of her daggers shot upwards and in a showing of strength and sheer will, she drove the menace away. The dance of two noble blades engaging, resounded in the woods and across the lake and even the old apple tree gasped in surprise upon hearing such hateful sound, for it had been absent in these woods over the course of its lifetime. Tauriel leaped five steps back, standing but crouching so low she looked like a great hunter about to strike.

Thranduil rewarded her with a stray smirk, but in the light of the moon it looked eerie and foreboding. "Let us see then which one shall be your fate. For you will have to choose Tauriel, beloved daughter of Anorion: A life spent in servitude and fight or a life in blessedness, sheltered if you choose so and side by side with the ones dear to your heart."

There were but two dear to her heart and it filled Tauriel with trepidation that he did not deem himself one of them. She had never much entertained such thoughts in seriousness. Seeing as dark times were upon them, she had assumed it nearly impossible to settle down into a quiet life of peace, friendship and dare say even motherhood. But she had hoped. One day maybe, once the shadow had passed.

Tauriel bowed her head in reverence and said: "The will of my King is my own."

To waver was to fall. She was pitted against a opponent beyond the strength of her mind and body. Tauriel knew that she would not be able to even touch Thranduil, let alone best him. But she swore herself that, at least, he will not be able to land a hit on her either.

The elleth told herself to breath. Just breathing and remembering that it was not even about movement as much as it was about thought. A state akin to the like as the wind and the ocean pulled and pushed. She reached out to this state and then, when she heard the call, she launched her first strike.

And thus the hour arrived when the great Elven-King and the lone Elfling crossed blades and all hearts were silenced as word of their duel travelled by water, wind and soil across the realm. A duel now waxed furious, now spent in grace and enjoyment, shaped after the tides. For no matter of how swift Tauriel dealt her strokes, the King would never falter under her siege but retaliation was given forthwith and twice as fatal. At moments he intended to cleave through her like a fire-bolt in a forest, at others his onsets were wave-like, growing in strength with each attempt.

But Tauriel was like a rock in the sea and all too soon the darkness began to break and dawn was close. And although Tauriel had endured and had not even allowed one strike to pierce her garb, time was turning against her. A decision has to make itself known ere a new day was upon them or her task has failed.

And so it came that when the Elven-King charged one last time, the elleth did not blench, neither did she raise her daggers. It was that feeling when it is about to rain and the wind is rising and one just knows without doubt that in this short lived moment, there is peace. There is peace, for there is strength and there is strength, for there is certainty. She recognized herself and within this awareness lay the thought that what was challenged, were not the words of her King, but her own.

There was a shiver in the air as the elven blade slid through snow and wind; and a murmur followed as it did not pierce or drew blood. It came to a halt in front of her face, only a finger length away from cleaving her asunder.

Tauriel took a long assured breath. Her eyes met with her King's and a smile as bright and beautiful as all the jewels under the ground and above forced the shadows and grimness on his face to retreat. Left was a light she had seen before over the course of her lifetime but each time on a different face.

Her father's. Her mother's. Legolas'. Kili's.

Tauriel starred in wonder at this rarest of gifts.

"This is not your father's way of fighting," mused Thranduil.

She inclined her head in agreement. "It is not."

"It is my son's."

And Tauriel returned the smile.

There was another pause and as the stars faded away one after the other, so did the steady fall of snow and in the silence that followed, Tauriel only heard her heartbeat and every beat fell together with the heartbeat of her King.

"You are your father's daughter―and in a way you are mine, too." He sheathed the mighty elven blade and Tauriel mirrored his movement. The emptiness of his fingers was replaced by a neckless, delicate both in appearance and in its silver light coloring, except for the gem in its middle: greyish green like her own eyes and held in the gentle embrace of sharp barbs.

He gave her what he was going to demand from her to be and she could not help but wonder what demands Thranduil had claimed from her ada. Legolas once had told her for each aspiring Captain both test and oath were different, for each soul is driven by different things and thus must be treated differently.

Ever so carefully the King placed the treasure around her neck, mindful of her hair and her skin. Tauriel enjoyed the warmth of his fingers, following them every move with her senses, and once his right hand rested flat against the gem, eliciting a little pressure on her skin and sternum, she knew what was about happen.

"Will you trust me, Tauriel Anorioniel, and put yourself completely under my judgement, even though your heart will waver and counsel you to follow its lead instead?" asked the Elven-King in a ceremonial yet low voice. "Will you answer to me and only me?"

"And what," her voice broke slightly, "if my Lord commands me to watch him fade away? To wait and hide until all hope is gone and all he held dear have left him?"

For many moments Thranduil did not answer. "Raise your head Tauriel, Captain of the Guard."

She did and a warmth spoke from him to her, she had not witnessed in a long time. "Such concerns are not yours to worry about."

And his fingers began to slip away and in a desperate rush, Tauriel placed her hand above his' to make him still. He yielded in an instant. It filled her with courage to go on: "Odulen an edraith angin."

He did not break the contact nor reject her words but Tauriel thought she saw something akin to pride and understanding in his eyes and it was enough. Tauriel's smile grew wider still.

"I will," she promised. "From this hour henceforth until my lord release me, or death take me." She allowed herself and him the small comfort and gave his hand an assured squeeze, then let go.

"Agoreg vae," whispered he, the light on his face still did not falter nor fade. And then the moment turned into another. The sun slid over the horizon and without another glance or word the King turned around and left in the blissful embrace of dawn, humming softly as he went. She heard it and all joy broke loose. She cast her daggers up in the early strays of sunlight and laughed as they glittered in different colors just like the snow to her feet. She caught them, swirled them around one last time and followed her King's voice back to his halls.

A lone figure awaited her at the end of the first twist, taking the path north.

Legolas.

To him too she flashed a radiant smile, for nothing was more important right now but seeing him standing there, waiting. A great longing took her then. She called to him. Her mind, her heart. In a sudden haste Tauriel ran to meet him and to her surprise and utter delight, Legolas met her half way.

And so the red blood blushing in their faces and their eyes shining with wonder, Legolas and Tauriel went forward and found themselves in each others embrace. It was bliss―the purest bliss to have ever felt as her hands clutched to his back and her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

"Le abdollen," he greeted her with; the light of laughter present in his voice. The fingers on the back of her head began to circle in tender movements and Tauriel nuzzled impossible closer even. "And you look terrible."

She huffed, pinched him playfully and was rewarded with a musical chuckle.

"He made you Captain," Legolas went on and only then she noticed a small shift. Troubled by his mood she loosened her embrace and looked at him. "I am happy for you."

And he was. The feeling clear and open in his eyes. Yet, he was also not.

"What did he ask of you?" asked Tauriel again and for the last time.

The hands on her back and her head fell away, brushing their way over her shoulders and down until they reached her elbows. There they took hold.

"He asked me to love my life more than any other." Anguish was now there in his eyes but also the shimmer of something else.

Tauriel always thought it was a dream, now only to wake up and realize that it was a thought. A thought she thought to be nothing but just that: a thought. Only in her mind. Only it was not.

Legolas hadn't feared her failure―he had feared her success.

Sindarin

Noro, Tauriel! Avadiro! Gwao hi! Run, Tauriel! Don't look back! Go now!

Ú-dano i faelas a hyn an unben tanatha le faelas! Elia imbendryn wen! Herio! Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none! Help our prisoners! Charge!

Hiro hen hîdh ab 'wanath May he rest in peace

Enwenno hen. Boe de nestad Take him. He needs healing.

ethuil spring

Ingannen le Orch I thought you were an Orc

Cí Orch im, dangen le If I were an Orc, you would be dead

Aphado nin hi Come with me now

Man agorech? What have you done?

Adolo an enni Come back to me

Ae boe i le eliathon, im tulithon If you should ever need my help, I will come

Odulen an edraith angin I am here to save you

Agoreg vae (familiar) You did well

Le abdollen You are late

~oOo~

Quenya

Quel esta Rest well