Hi everyone! This is my newest fic, centering on post-BotFA Tauriel. It will reference back to Tauriel's relationship to Kili throughout, but since he won't be making an appearance since he's, y'know, dead. This fic will (probably) be 25 chapters. This story will follow Tauriel from right after the Battle of the Five Armies through the War of the Ring. There will be canonical and supporting character death, but despite all the angst there will be a (mostly) happy ending. I'll follow movie canon for the most part (not for the funeral, though), but I'll include book canon whenever it doesn't contradict movie canon.

Thanks for reading!

Beneath the Stars
ONE

Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away...

They buried the heirs in the evening.

The sun set just as the final cover was laid over the stone tomb, concealing Thorin Oakenshield's face forever. He had been the last of the three Dwarves to die, the last of the three to be buried. King Under the Mountain he was, the king of Durin's dead.

Tauriel's face was pale and expressionless as the Dwarves all bowed to their deceased leader, even King Dáin. She said nothing, had said little since Kíli's death. She stood in the back of the crowd, watching. Alone.

The halfling had spoken to her some, treating her with kindness. He had been close to Oakenshield, and fond of Fíli and Kíli. His words were heartfelt, but they did little to ease her pain. He had left already; heading to his homeland with the wizard Gandalf.

A little to her left was King Bard, ruler of the Men of Esgaroth. He was just and wise, for man, but he felt little sorrow at this occasion—Oakenshield had been no friend of his.

Thranduil and the elves had returned to the Greenwood, promising to send periodic aid to Esgaroth, and to keep the peace with Erebor. Tauriel had not gone with him.

Though Thranduil had been sympathetic—as much as could be expected—he had refused to allow her to return to his realm. Tauriel missed her home, but she could not return. She would not have returned even if Thranduil had allowed her. Too many memories, too many bad feelings were in that place. And she could not face Legolas again, so soon.

For his part, Legolas had left almost immediately after the Battle of the Five Armies was won. North he journeyed, or so Thranduil said, to visit the Dúnedain. Tauriel was relieved she did not have to speak with him, though his loss hurt.

The Dwarves rose, the funeral adjourned. Now they left to feats and make merry, celebrating the lives of the dead.

Tauriel reached into her pocket, pulling out Kíli's promise stone. She walked forward, toward the graves. Oakenshield's sister-sons, Kíli and his brother Fíli, were buried on either side of him in matching tombs. Tauriel rested her hand on the left one—Kíli's final resting place.

"I am sorry, Kíli," she whispered, blinking back tears. She rested the promise stone beneath his name, engraved in the Dwarvish language on smooth, white stone. She stood there for a long while, alone. Then she tilted her head up to the sky, full of stars. Stars she had for so long yearned to see in full beauty, as she saw them now. But they brought her no joy.

"Look at the stars, Kíli," she murmured. "And the moon...it's so bright... Now that I no longer abide in the forest, perhaps I will see a fire moon some day, and think of you."

She picked up the stone. "I will have to give this to one of your kinsmen, Kíli," she sighed. "To take back to your mother. Do you understand?"

There was no answer. Tauriel did not expect one, but she still was hurt. Hurt by his absence, his loss.

She remembered him dying upon the blade of the orc. How he had mouthed that word, the Khuzdul word he had spoken to her on the shores of the Long Lake: amrâlimê. An "I love you" in his own tongue. She had not had the chance to say it back to him. She said it now, her tongue instinctively forming the phrase in Sindarin instead of the common speech.

"Gi melin, Kíli," she whispered, tears rolling down her fair, pale face. "I love you..."

There were footsteps behind her, the heavy thump of a Dwarvish boots. Tauriel shoved Kíli's stone in her pocket, not wanting others to see it, and turned to face the approaching dwarf.

It was the bald one. She could not recall his name. After the battle, she had wandered among the dead and helped to clean up, meeting several Dwarves and speaking to many elves she had known from the Greenwood. Bard the Bowman, now the King of his Men, had offered to house her in the ruins of Dale, and she had stayed there for the nights preceding the funeral. Tauriel had spoken little to the Dwarves of Erebor and of the Iron Hills, but she knew they were at least somewhat aware of her romance with Kíli.

She nodded to the bald dwarf, who nodded back, his eyes pained.

"Elf," he said, his voice low and guttural, "I know you have reason to be here...but leave me alone in my grief for my King."

"I—I was just leaving," she stammered, backing away from the tombs. The bald dwarf nodded and coughed, looking beyond her as she exited the hall of the dead.

Tauriel walked through the halls of Erebor. The Dwarves of the Iron Hills had helped clean the place up some, but their feast was in the process of destroying all their hard work.

She slipped past the dining hall and into the treasure hoard of Smaug. She looked down at the mounds of gold and jewels. Thranduil and Bard had taken their share of the wealth, but most of it remained for the Dwarves of Erebor to keep.

Tauriel sat down, staring at the piles of gold. The mounds stretched forever, spilling into yawning caves and filling up great halls. The Dwarves lusted after it, but for Tauriel the acquisition of the treasure and the mountain held no solace. It was not worth Kíli's death.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" a wise old voice said from behind her.

Tauriel turned to see the old dwarf, Balin. He walked closer and sat down beside her, comically shorter than she was.

"It is no comfort to me," she murmured in response.

Balin nodded. "I feel your pain, Elf-maiden. I was Thorin's friend, his closest advisor. I helped raise Fíli and Kíli. Gold immeasurable holds not the price of life. But it is done now." He sighed. Tauriel stared into the halls of treasure, saying nothing.

"I know you grieve, Elf-maiden," Balin said, patting her on the arm. "But the mountain is no place for elves, even in light of recent events."

"I know this," she murmured. "I will leave. Tonight, if you and your king wish."

"You could have gone with Bilbo and Gandalf for some leagues," Balin commented.

"I could have," she sighed. "But I wished to stay for the funeral. And I did not think they would welcome me."

"They would have, more so than my kin," the old dwarf said.

Tauriel nodded. She took a deep breath, then took Kíli's promise stone from her pocket. "Kíli gave me this, before he died."

Balin took the stone and examined it. "A promise," he murmured, his eyes clouded with memory. "One broken."

"It was to his mother, and to me, in the end," she explained. "When you bring your kin back to the mountain, give her this, please. It is not mine any longer."

Balin looked at the stone, then back up at Tauriel. He took her hand and gave it back to her. "Come with us, elf-maiden, to Ered Luin. Dís their mother should hear the whole tale, from you and my brother Dwalin both."

Tauriel clutched the stone and stared at him. "I could not."

"I will speak for you," he said, nodding his head and looking her in the eyes. "I hold respect even in the mind of Dáin. It will be only I and Dwalin, and perhaps one other."

Tauriel closed her eyes. Kíli would want his mother to know of his fate. She could ensure that Dís received the promise stone, at the very least.

"If you will speak for me, I will go," she answered Balin. "I do not have any other place waiting for me."

He clapped her on the knee. "Good! But first, what is your name, Elf-maiden? I am afraid I have forgotten it."

"I am Tauriel," she told him.

"Well, Tauriel," Balin said, "I will meet you tomorrow outside Dale. Gather your belongings; we leave at dawn."