The Woodland Realm was an oasis within a vastness of murk and rotting bark, remaining the only part of the forest unsullied and untouched by the shadow that had branded it the name Taur-nu-fuin. It was beauty within ugliness, and it sang with the noiseless footfall of insecticide critters, and the sough of wind fanning through leaves, and the sibilant froth of a rapids furlong ahead, and other hums only the children of the forest could discern.

Tauriel was born into this realm many centuries after the Greenwood had been renamed, and since her kind mainly bred in times of peace, her birth, an existence that came to be after the woods's corruption, had been unique and celebrated, and it was the last elven birth in the forest to date. What's more, her name, Tauriel, was given to her in honor of those circumstances, and it proved to be a fitting one. The young elf felt a connection to this manifestation of the forest that none of her elders did. They had known it when the whole of the forest was perfect and green and free of illness, but Tauriel had grown in its juxtaposition, and did not feel its deterioration as sharply as they did.

She did not love the warped side of the forest, but she understood it. From early on in her age, a good portion of her time had been spent navigating through the infected part of the woods, fighting beasts, keeping watch, learning as much about their enemies as she could. Her knowledge and affinity with the forest, combined with her natural leadership and combat skills, had granted her the well-deserved role as Captain of the Guard.

"You're more at ease," said Kili as he shuffled behind her, his steps thunderous and awkward compared to that of the wood-elves.

Encouraged by the woodland's music and the way it seemed to open its arms to her, and the fact that they continued unmolested by neither beast nor elf, Tauriel's anxiety had indeed quelled, though she remained dubious of Thranduil's intentions.

Tauriel smiled at him over her shoulder. "The forest welcomes me back."

She heard him breathe in slowly, testing the air. "I think I understand. I don't feel the malady that I did the first time I stepped into the forest's shadow. It feels... cleaner."

"Thranduil goes to great lengths to keep the darkness at bay from his kingdom."

Now and then Tauriel would recognize the faintest brush of foliage or bite of a twig as made by scouts formerly under her command. They made their presence known to her, but kept their distance, their vigilance sweeping about the perimeter of the realm and thus not kept solely on the pair.

In addition to the Guard, wards were set about the perimeter as an extra layer of defense. Protective as he was of his kingdom, Thranduil's caution had also made him excessively mistrusting of outsiders as well as a recluse, and he had seen to it that his subjects had kept shut within the realm's borders as well.

For as long as Tauriel's curiosity began to take root, she had wanted to venture outside of the forest, to learn of a world beyond beech trees and damp soil, to see faces marred with unconcealed scars and the furrows of age. But, aside from the far and few visits of envoys to Rivendell, it had been absolutely prohibited to leave, and it had taken the lure and friendly conference of one bold dwarf to give her the push to break from a place she came to consider both a haven and a cage. A haven, because all the things she loved and appreciated were in this safeguarded sphere. A cage, because she believed there was more to be cherished outside of it.

Kili had proved that the world outside was worth engaging in and preserving, and any creature that kept a promise as precious the one he did for his mother was a life worth saving, and a life worth loving.

"And the Dark One's retreat from Dol Goldur has loosened his hold on the forest, for now." She added, remembering that very important detail. "I fear he will return with a vengeance."

"Let that not be the case," said Kili, his voice breathy from walking, as well as from a sense of foreboding.

For hours they trekked on, scarcely stopping but for a meal break and to stretch the kinks in Kili's back stiffened by the heavy cargo. Against his protests, Tauriel relieved him of the weight and took the cargo onto her back.

The dimness of the forest darkened as dusk set in, and then gave way to a night that swallowed them into a near-impenetrable black, save for the pinprick of stars that shined through the dense lacework of the beeches' crowns. Here, in the zest of the land and the home of her kin, the stars flashed ever brighter, and if she was to hone in and empty her senses to their light, she would be lifted to them. She thought of how beautiful it would be to bring Kili with her, where they could dance among that which she loved equal to him, surrounded by nothing but light as pure as their bond. Then, remembering that they had tried before and it did not work, an unbidden sadness diffused her fantasy, though she clung on to the hope that perhaps if they tried again in hallowed ground, that it might work.

Her reverie was further cut into at the sound of a thud and a curse uttered in Khuzdul.

"It's darker than Moria's mines in here. I can scarce see passed my nose." Kili had stubbed his foot, presumably on an upraised root. Consumed by her thoughts, she had forgotten to warn him of the tripping hazard. The darkness would lame even the surest foot to a floundering gait, unless of course you were an elf and familiar with the land.

"We are not far. Another two hours, more or less."

"Hopefully less. I'm not thrilled about venturing into the Elvenking's Halls again, but I'd rather be underground than stumbling blindly in the forest," Kili said, the annoyance in his voice plain but a relief to her ears. He sounded more like his cheeky self as he was now than when he had been in forcing himself to be unfazed and cheerful earlier on in their venture.

Tauriel's jocund smirk was hidden in the shadows but not in her voice. "Would you like me to carry you?"

He gave her the snort she wanted."Ha. Well, if I am to suffer one indignity over the other, it would be in the arms of a pretty lass."

They continued without any further minor collisions and without her needing to carry her short husband-to-be.

When Tauriel was certain no sharp, prying ears nor eyes were within proximity, she paused and turned to him. "Kili."

Kili almost did collide with her then, stopping a two steps short from her chest. He politely backed away. "Yes?"

"I do not know what sort of reception we'll have. It's possible that news of your disinheritance has reached Thranduil, and if that's the case, you might met with less hostility than you did when trespassing, but also with less cordiality were you a royal guest and envoy."

"I feel like I'm walking into a lion's den," Kili replied blandly.

"Thranduil is... mistrustful, and set in his ways, but he is not cruel. Besides, it is a much wiser course to meet him than either turn back or continue on in his territory. Prince or not, you are still Thorin's blood, and Thraunduil would not again want to sour relations by holding a potential ally's nephew as a prisoner. But I do not carry the same privilege. He could decide to apprehend me for trespassing without first having a conference with him. Thranduil is the ruler of nearly all of Mirkwood, and the Woodland Realm is the capital city. No one may enter or leave without his consent."

What she had told Kili at Bard's residence was true. Thranduil did not order her to return, but now that they were in his territory, even if it was just along the border, to pass through without answering his call could be taken as a slight and they may ordered to leave and forced take the more dangerous route through the mountains. Or worse, she could be held in contempt. Her banishment was lifted, but Thranduil could retract that lift at will.

Furthermore, she wanted to know why Thranduil had lifted her banishment, and to ignore his request might mean ignoring the realm as a whole.

Kili grasped this bind. "Understood. I will do whatever it takes to see us safely through, even if it means getting sneered at by a bunch of haughty elves," he said , keeping his tone light in spite of the subject matter. He was not the callow dwarf she met some months ago, heedless to the gravity of certain situations and willing to do anything to impress his elders, but still he did his best to maintain a positive attitude for the sake of those he cared about.

He took his calloused hands took hers, and gave them a tug as he lifted himself to reach closer to her height. His face, tan that it was and framed by a tousle of dark hair and shadows, was barely visible, but still she knew where to find his lips. All thoughts of Thranduil and exile and everything else were dispelled as their lips met and they were entangled in a sweet exchange of wordless language, one that needed no translation and held a meaning as deep and moving as hymns. But then his hands released her hair and he was again under her chin and her mouth touched nothing but the air and it was over too soon. She tried not to wring her lips in frustration as he heard him chuckle.

"I never thought I could stir such a reaction from an elf." She didn't need keen eyes to see the smug play on his lips as he looked up at her.

"That was cruel." she said, though she was far from angry. Maybe a little embarrassed for looking like a fish sucking at the air.

"That was for good luck. They say that if one kisses a dwarrow before facing uncertainty, adversity, or a gamble, the odds will be in favor of that person." His hands moved to her waist, and if there had been any elves nearby, she would have had to remove them from where they brazenly took settlement. It was good that no others had been around for their kiss, neither.

"I have never heard of such a myth. That was made up entirely by you," she said, doubting his claim.

"Yes, and still, you are glad that I did. That hug would not suffice." She had to admit, he was not wrong.

"Should you have given me that line when we were on the shores of the Lake, I might have kissed you then before the battle." Rarely did either one of them bring up the battle, especially the fight on Ravenhill, but in this context, it was easier to make mention of something that happened before any of the bloodshed had occurred.

Kili's voice grew quieter, almost dreamy. "As much as I yearned to do so, I did not think it appropriate at the time. And besides, this was enough," he said, tapping in the nook between her breasts where she kept his first and cherished gift to her. "It worked didn't it?"

She held her palm over chest, and softly said, "Yes, it did."

They reached the foot of the Elf-path around the time Tauriel had predicted. The road led up to a cobbled stone bridge that stretched over the River and affixed the southern region of the woods to the north, where the Elvenking's Halls loomed. White pillars like giant's bones stood solidly in front of large stone doors secured by elf-magic, and near those pillars, obscured by the shade, were half a dozen sentinels, made small by their surroundings but no less stately than the face of the cavern palace.

A chamberlain by the name of Arvellon greeted them at the main entrance (which served the dual function of being the "only"exit, though Kili and his company had thoroughly proved that to be a false claim), standing apart from the rest of the watch.

"Welcome back, Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, and Kili, Prince of Erebor and Decedent of Durin. I am here on behalf of Our King. He wishes for you to rest for the night. You will have audience with him on the morrow."

Tauriel did not correct him. Now was not a suitable time to reveal that Kili no longer held the title of prince. Better to tell Thranduil directly. She nodded her respect and said, "Doilla le."

Kili followed her example, and said nothing.

Arvellon regarded Kili with a prudent expression, keeping his tone polite. "The Prince will lodge in a chamber reserved for Thranduil's royal guests, inside the Halls." He did not wait for Kili's response, directing is eyes upward to Tauriel, who was at an even level of height with him. "You may return to your formal dwelling, and are free to roam the forest as you did prior to your absence, but Thranduil desires that you should refrain from entering the palace until you are summoned. You have his word that you and the prince are under his protection."

Tauriel sensed no falsehood in his words. Distrustful, and at times selfish, the wood-elves were, but they were not deceitful.

"If you will please follow me," said Arvellon, gesturing to Kili.

Kili turned to Tauriel, wary in every line of his frame. She gave him a nod of encouragement, and said to him "Tenna' tul're," which fetched a disapproving look or two from the otherwise stoic sentinels. The words were common enough not to be bold, but it was the fond tone in which she spoke them that lent them a more meaningful edge.

Kili smiled wanly at her, and let himself be lead off by Arvellon and all but two of the sentinels, who remained to keep watch.

They pointedly ignored her, and she took their hint and flew to the trees.

The last time Kili had walked the intersecting pathways inside Thranduil's palace, he'd been too disgruntled and tired and still a bit delirious from the enchantment of the forest to be fully observant of the architecture. Ori had told him that these Halls were modeled after Menegroth, another underground citadel that had been built with the aid of Belegost Dwarves. Other dwarvish hands had lent their skill and strength to sculpt the Halls of Thanduil, and Kili could see their influence in the engineering. Ironically, the Elvenking's palace resembled the dwarves' own lodgings far more than it resembled the elvish realm of Rivendell, though it was less spacious than the other underground kingdoms Kili had seen, including the Goblin-Town. The aesthetic, however, was distinctly elvish, all curves and elegant lines and organic design.

His room was just as elvish, with a high convex roof and furnishing that was designed for one twice his height. The bed, for example, was an ovular shape and could probably fit two of him, or preferably him and Tauriel, and the chair was just high enough for him to sit on without needing to hop on it. The room did boast a hearth and bathtub, and he knew from Tauriel's description of her home that she did not have either herself.

The only gems that he had seen since entering the palace were in his room, and they were inlaid to the walls to represent the eyes of birds and stags and other noble woodland creatures. Leaves, vines, and flowers were recurring motifs in all of the art and architecture of his chamber, curling around on the bedpost and other pieces of furniture as if plants had sprouted from the floor.

Kili stripped down to his trousers, and laid on the bed, which felt like a cloud about to sink him in, not a particularly comfortable feeling. He did not think sleep would not come easily to him, despite being tired as he was. The lack of Tauriel's physical presence did nothing to make him relax. They'd only shared three nights together, and already he'd become attached and accustomed to the feel of Tauriel beside him; her soft breathing, the curve of her back against him, or his back against her, how well the fit together despite being mismatched in body, how soft she was-

He sprung up from the bed, cursing.

Fortunately, the elves had never been stingy with supplying food and drink to their guests, or even to their prisoners, as he so vividly and not so fondly remembered. A bowl of fresh fruit and cheese and a flagon of wine was on an oaken table, and he ate the food and washed that down with a heady red vintage that was better- and stronger- than most anything Kili had ever consumed.

This hospitality that he was being provided was above anything Kili had expected, and was rather bewildering, and also did not fully pacify his distrust. He supposed it had more to do with the ingrained suspicion dwarves harbored for elves than for any substantial reason, but then again, this was the same King who had spurned those that needed his aid. Kili wondered if the hospitality would last when Thranduil learned of his exile.

Absently, he took another pull of wine.

Tauriel had promised him that she would not leave him, and he similarly had sworn he would follow her wherever she went, but if Tauriel was offered another chance to live among her people, to inhabit trees and bask in magic and the light of the stars, he didn't know if he'd have the heart to take her away from that a second time.

They would just have to wait to hear what Thranduil wanted from Tauriel, because Kili was sure that self-interest was a motive of Thranduil in inviting Tauriel back.

I don't like him. He is gaudy and selfish, thought Kili as he drank some more.

A guard was posted outside his room, and it almost did feel like he was confined to a cell, albeit a considerably more comfortable and lavish one. He was not permitted to leave without being followed by that guard, and only was allowed to do so for using the privy, and Kili was not sure whether to be humiliated or amused at the thought of a pompous elf posted outside the privy listening to the hiss and patter of his golden relief. Kili laughed under his breath.

Well, since he wasn't going anywhere and since he wasn't going to get sleep until he was satisfyingly imbibed with the soporific effects of the wine, which he wasn't far from achieving because this wine was highly potent, and my, was he feeling it, he looked around for something to do.

The hearth was unlit and the firewood was un-charred, and so he took one of the logs and brought it with him to sit on the ground and recline his back on the bedpost. He took out one of his daggers, the one that Fili had given him on his name day, and began to carve, starting with the head. Then, he worked on a pointy ear that curved around that head like a petal, then the other ear, conjuring the image of the longest and pointiest and loveliest pair of ears he'd ever seen on an elf.

When he was finished with his work, Kili studied it, and frowned. "Not even a master craftsman could create a likeness that would do you justice."

A painter might come close, but even they would lack the skill to capture the dream come true that she was.

Vertiginous currents of poesy swirled in his mind as he stretched languidly on the rug and assembled doting versus he would partly forget by morning. Staring hazily at the statuette, he wished it was the flesh-and-blood Tauriel instead of a wooden, miniature version of her. A "dwarf" version of her. He laughed. He sighed.

Twice she'd given him the gift of life, and all he'd given her in return was crafted steel and a future full of uncertainty. And his love. Would that be enough?

He was snoring before he could speculate on that further.

As one would expect of a wood-elf, Tauriel's house was in a tree. It was not an open platform like the flets of Lothlorein, or an ample, lofty lodging of white stone like in Imladris. It was more of a hut, constructed from recycled bark and nestled within the pale limbs of a beech tree.

Someone had cleaned it for her, else wise it would have been overrun with leaves and grime and webs formed by innocuous spiders. She did see that some of her books had been nibbled on by caterpillars, and her furniture bitten here and there by termites, but she was happy that all her things were still there, and more importantly, that her mother's lock of hair and father's dagger remained safely tucked away in a locked chest. She hadn't had time to take those with her when she left Mirkwood.

Sunrise was beaming through the openings of her abode when a servant of Thranduil's arrived with her breakfast. The elf-maid was older than Tauriel, as everyone in the realm was, but had a humble bearing that was atypical of wood-elves, which was probably why Thranduil liked her as a palace maid. She looked at Tauriel with demure curiosity, and only tilted her head and curtsied when Tauriel expressed her thanks.

With her breakfast, there was a note. It was from Thranduil, and it read:

Tauriel,

Please be at the White Room when the hour is ten. The Durin Prince will be present at this meeting.

King Thranduil

A concise and informal note it was, and Tauriel noted the likewise informal location they were to meet. The Thranduil she'd known thrived in the kingly ceremony of receiving guests in the grand, aerial Throne Room of his forefathers, exhibiting his status and wealth with an unnecessarily pompous flare and bearing.

The last time Tauriel had any interaction with the stunning king was right after she healed Kili on the cold, snowy bloodstained precipice of her nightmares. Her tears had frozen on her face and Kili's vital flame was slowly rekindling, and Thranduil approached them with an expression that was at once mystified and touched, as if he was witnessing an event as singular and charming as a fox cradling a hound.

"It is real," he said, amazed at the sight before him. Then he said no more and turned and left, his hair still perfect and gown unruffled despite just having fought a deadly battle.

That singular act of love had moved him, but it gave her little clue on if he approved or disapproved of that love, and if that should matter. She supposed it didn't, and still she found herself foolishly hoping that at least one of her own kin would.

She ate the rest of her meal, porridge sweetened with honey and berries, and went to the streams so that she could bathe.

Few others started their morning routine with a wash, and Tauriel was usually one of those who ended their day immersed in ablutions, but she hadn't bathed since the night before leaving Dale and so a bath was in order. Besides, Thranduil would probably wrinkle his nose at her if she showed up unwashed.

A shocked silence full on those who were cleansing themselves in the mildly cool waters as they caught her walking down the grassy slope to the edge of the banks. The silence was soon replaced by whispers murmured in Sindarin, all knowing they'd be heard as she undressed.

"She has returned."

"The traitor."

""Hush, she is a good-elf."

"Her dwarf prince is in the palace, I hear."

"I do not believe those tales of her and the dwarf. She has more sense than that."

"Well met," said Tauriel, stepping into the shallow end of the stream. She refused to give them any indication that their gossip affected her. She had expected it.

Several nods and greetings were granted in return, some more stiffly than others. There were kindly smiles that greeted her, and one of them was especially warm. The smile was worn by a maiden called Rhovangwen. She waved to Tauriel to meet her at the other end of the river, further down the current.

Tauriel swam to her friend, who floated near the River, her deep brown hair splayed out like tendrils.

"It is good to see you again, mellon," Rhovangwen greeted her. Like the rest, she was Silvan, a lower elf who served Thranduil as a soldier, and she was a dear friend of Tauriel's. She was one of the people Tauriel had been most sorry to leave. A friend since her childhood, Rhovangwen was one of the younger elves, though she was still centuries older than Tauriel.

"It is good to see you as well," returned Tauriel.

"Your departure stirred much controversy," Rhovangwen said, free of condescension.

"I see my return has as well," Tauriel said, returning the gazes of some of the elves staring quizzically at her.

"You will not be met unkindly by everyone. You still have friends here, Tauriel. At least half of us believe that what you did was admirable, while others are simply baffled. Few are upset. We hardly know anything of the matter. Thranduil has kept silent. What we've been told by others regarding the circumstances surrounding your exile sound more like tales than truths." Tauriel could see in Rhovangwen's face a hundred questions, pushing against her tongue, too polite to voice them in a place so public and open.

Tauriel was grateful for her friend's prudence. "I will tell you the story in a later time, when we are alone."

Rhovangwen gave her an agreeable smile, though the curiosity still lingered.

Seeing the glistening naked bodies of the wood-elves was a familiar sight, but now she found herself comparing them to Kili. The elves were physically flawless, their bodies supple and tall and taut with lean muscle, and that perfection now seemed almost unvaried in contrast to those of dwarves and men.

She thought of Kili, how strange yet alluring the sight of him bare-chested had been, and the reaction that his kisses and touch had stirred.

"Tauriel?" Rhovangwen observed her peculiarly.

"Yes?" Tauriel responded, feeling herself grow warm, embarrassed from being caught musing over something so wordly, though her friend wouldn't be aware of exactly what it was that caused that lapse of attention in Tauriel.

With her meeting with Thranduil imminent, Tauriel's bath was a short one, and she left feeling cleaner in both body and in mind with knowing that she could still count Rhovangwen among her friends.

She thought of her other friend, Legolas, as she did almost on the daily, and wondered where he could be. Rhovangwen said no one knew except Thranduil and several of his confidants. His son was understandably a delicate subject, and no one dared mention him nearby or in the presence of their king.

Out of everyone, it was her Greenleaf she missed the most. Half a year was but a flutter of a moth's wing to elves, but having parted ways without a proper goodbye, and not knowing when and if they would ever again meet, time became irrelevant, and she felt his absence as heavy as a felled tree.

What if they did meet again? Their relationship would never again be like the one they had before she recognized that the love Legolas felt for her was not of the same nature as the one she had for him.

A thought seized her. Two princes had fallen in love with her, and self-imposed exile had been the price. Was loving her a curse?

She drove that bleak and absurd thought from her mind.

Kili's second gift to her, a ring that he had lovingly made himself and marked their troth, was where she left it in her jewelry box, and she slipped it on her index finger. It felt right on her, like a piece falling into place. Runes of love and strength and wisdom were etched on the inside of its rim, adding to the courage she had within her, symbolically if not in a literal sense. Thranduil would surely take note of her ring, as Thorin had, but Thranduil was not Thorin and his reaction might be different. Their opinions and feelings for the matter ultimately did not alter that Tauriel was sworn to Kili. Whatever else this life had prepared for them, that would not change.