Hobbit 1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_"No, you cannot be her. _

_She is far away….she is far, far away from me. _

_She walks in starlight in another world. It was just a dream…. _

_Do you think she could have loved me?"_

* * *

The words spun round and round in Tauriel's ears like leaves caught in a swirling breeze. She was by no means intentionally pondering their sounds. No, not at all. For days, she had been consumed with her task of running. The sensations of air rushing by her face and the press of the ground beneath her boots were enjoyed, but certainly not dwelled upon. Only the firm desire to return to the Forests of Mirkwood held the main occupation of her mind. And yet….

And yet, the Dwarf's latest words to her were like a haunting music; a tune that tinkled on underneath her thoughts regardless of her attempts to ignore it.

Strange warmth blossomed across her cheeks with each memory of that whispered question.

Tauriel frowned. Surely, she reasoned, it was the chillness of the air that caused such an effect on her person, and not the fine words of the passenger she now carried upon her back. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to run them over his face.

The Dwarfling was still fast asleep, his cheek pressed comfortably into the nook between her shoulder and neck. She even felt the slow, easy warmth of his breaths in her tunic despite of the crisp air that whipped through both of their hair. The length of his dark lashes and line of his jaw threatened to distract her for a moment... But only for a moment. Briskly, Tauriel focused her attention once again to the road in front of her and continued her run. Such concentration was not a necessity. The Elf maiden was certain that she could cross the terrain back to her homeland with her eyes firmly shut. As she sprinted, her nimble feet crossed grass, rock, brook, and branch as easily as if she walked over the flattest mountain path. Such grace was natural to her kind. Constant clarity of mind was also a unique talent of the Elves, though Tauriel had trouble remembering the fact at the present. Her thoughts were as muddled as water with a hundred ripples dancing upon its surface.

The Elf maiden sighed and steeled her concentration to the consistency of Mithril. She had no time to waste time upon idle reminiscing. She was on a mission. Her passenger Kili, Son of Dis- sister to the vagabond king Thorin Oakenshield- had been badly wounded during his escape from her forest's prisons not days ago. A malevolent Orc arrow had pierced his thigh and riddled his blood with a deadly poison. Tauriel had followed the dwarf company from Mirkwood all the way to the human village of Laketown. She had been in hot pursuit of the Orcs that had not only killed many of her friends and soldiers, but had also wounded the Dwarfling. Before she could exact vengeance upon the heads of the hated Orc, however, she ran into several dwarves of Oakenshield's company that had been left behind with the humans. Among this number, was Kili. He had been near death when she found him- the poison nearly completing its insidious purpose. With the aid of the healing herb Athelas and her own inherent Grace, Tauriel was able to stop the toxic before it claimed the Dwarf's life. But the evil was not completely destroyed. The arrow bore upon its head a dark spell, a vileness straight from the heart of Dol Guldur. It would take more than her ministrations to cure it completely. Only the accomplished healers of Mirkwood bore the skills to perform such a task.

So, with the blessings of the other Dwarves lingering in Laketown, she had taken leave with Kili in her keeping to the Forests of Mirkwood, back to her people with the means of saving the nephew of the king.

It was a noble enough of a task. She understood the tensions between the Wood Elves and the Dwarves. Every Elf of her homeland had been raised in its shadow. It was this very feud that had forced her king Thranduil to so quickly imprison the company in the first place. But the Orcs, enemy to all peoples of Middle Earth, were a threat to Elves and Dwarves alike. If Dwarves were wounded defending themselves from the creatures' darkness, Tauriel could find no reason why her kindred could not take sympathy upon them and treat them as allies- if only in the name of their combined hatred of the Morgoth's* creations.

_I will take the Dwarfling to the healers first_, she thought. _I will deal with Thranduil's wrath afterwards._ And wrath there would be. Her king had, not moments before she set out to track and kill the Orcs that plagued her forest, demanded the borders of Mirkwood closed. His son Legolas had bid her to retreat to the trees and forgo her vendetta. But she had disobeyed him, and in doing so, disobeyed her king.

Tauriel felt her lips form yet another frown. For all her life, she had served her forest as its devoted protector. She had made it her goal to run faster, shoot her arrow farther, and nurture the trees more deeply than any other Wood Elf. At the young age of 300 years, she had been inducted into the king's elite guard. With pleasure did she destroy spiders and other illnesses to Mirkwood, patrol the borders of the forest, and carry out the various commands of her Grey* monarch.

Yet despite 300 years of loyal service, she always found herself lacking in Thranduil's eyes. She knew the reason for this mal content. Legolas harbored affection for her. The two had been dispatched on many missions together. Though a Prince, Legolas was not above serving his kingdom with his arrows and his hands. The two of them had spent many a day clearing webs from branches, hunting down egg sacks and setting a torch to them, and cleansing the trees from their perennial filth. When such tasks were done, Tauriel would often retire with Legolas to some lofty branch and enjoy the glow of the stars. They talked of many things in the starlight. Of the way the world was, back when it was bright like a sunlight on dew. Of the dark future that loomed over the tree-tops like storm clouds. Sometimes, it was not until many days that they finished a conversation. But the Elf maiden hadn't dared let her heart wander...

She knew of the distance between their names. Legolas, son to the king, was 2,000 years of age. He was of royal blood and destined for great deeds, worthy of a place in the annals of the Arda*. At least, that was what his father had in mind for him. Tauriel, on the other hands, was a mere Wood Elf of 600 years. She was the best archer of her rank, as well as a captain of the Elven Guard. But she was young compared to the Prince. To his fire, she was but a mere candle flame. Nonetheless, Legolas was a kind kinsman and a trusted comrade.

She knew though, always, that the king was wary of this friendship.

This is why he told her to never return Legolas' gaze. This is why he let her excel in missions away from his palace, but rarely let her roam the halls at her leisure. And this was ultimately why he would lay a very singular brand of anger upon her head at her return to Mirkwood after defying his orders to never leave it.

Tauriel jumped lithely over stream and landed deftly on the other side. She continued her speedy race over the grasslands, only a small sigh interrupting the smoothness of her breaths. _The return of the Dwarf will surely only fuel his frustration. Alas, there is nothing to be done. _She had refused to leave the Dwarfling to his doom in Laketown. He was her responsibility now, and she would see him healed. With or without the consent of her king.

The Elf adjusted her passenger, settling his body more firmly against her back. His arms unconsciously tightened their hold around her. Suddenly her frown was gone. In a flash, her stormy ruminations were banished and in their place shined a light amusement. She smiled, daring once more to look over at him. It surprised her to find a similar smile upon his own lips. The Dwarfling was still lost in sleep.

Tauriel wondered, for the first time, if her flight from Mirkwood had been kindled by anger at the Orcs, or by very different reason…

The smell of leaf and loam made her once more look ahead. A warmth rose in her spirit and permeated her entire being at the sight. Before her, a thick expanse of dark green trees towered before her. She could not help but notice the greyness of the forest's bark- such was the taint of Dol Guldur. But it was still a beautiful sight. The leaves still clung fiercely to greenness and the branches still reached high for sun and stars. The forest was strong. The forest was _home._

Tauriel doubled her speed, her vast energy far from spent since her departure from Laketown, and raced towards the boundary of the Mirkwood Forest.

* * *

Hey all!

Just some Vocabulary: Melkor/Morgoth* was an enemy to Middle Earth during the First Age. A terrible threat, he lured Elves who first walked upon Earth into the darkness and twisted them into the dark beings commonly known as Orcs.

Sindar is a name for Grey* Elves: Sindar Elves. They are an old, and noble breed that were among the few Elven Kindreds that chose to remain in Middle Earth as oppose to sailing to the Undying Lands (Valinor) with the majority of their people. They made their homes in the forest kingdom of Beleriand. Later, Thranduil left Beleriand with his father and became King of Greenwood the Great (later Mirkwood) after the death of his father.

Arda* is name for Earth during the age of Elves, Dwarves, and men.

-This is just a little tale about Kili and Tauriel. Angst is to come! But so is corny-ness. Hur hur =P Review please!

-Kirinlover


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

First there was light. A hard, sharp light that reminded him of white diamonds.

Kili grunted and fiercely rubbed his closed eyes, only stopping when the stinging pain had dissolved back into darkness. He waited a moment before tentatively opening his eyes a second time.

What he saw made his breath catch in this throat like a trapped bird.

The Dwarf had not been in one stable location for many moons. Most times he wakened from sleep to a new environment every day. At some occasions, he woke to open skies with clouds or jewel-bright stars. At others, it was to a canopy of leaves, the rough skin of a tent, or the damp stone of a prison cell. He had grown accustomed to life on the road and its ever-changing stream of scenery.

The sight that presently filled his vision was one he had never before witnessed. The surprise was far from a pleasant one…

The sheets that swaddled him on the bed were of the purest white. Not even milky quartz could claim such a color. On the wooden walls around him, intricate carvings of trees with branches that ran together in a net of boughs and leaves decorated every surface. Kili's heart began to beat an erratic tattoo against his ribbs. The casting his eyes upward, unfortunately, brought no relief. The ceiling was a thing of splendor. On it, a ring of carved leaves held in their centre a speckling of stars- each body cast in shining silver.

He was in no hall of his own people; far too much flora for their taste. The Dwarf knew with certainty that he was _far_ from the human Bard's meager abode. There existed only one breed of craftsmen that possessed the skill to construct a room like the one he currently occupied.

Kili wasted no more time gawking. He hurled the blankets from his body and quickly moved to set his feet on the ground. The ground, however, was farther away than he anticipated. The moment he moved weight to his feet, his body pitched forwards and hurled through the air. He met the floor on his palms and knees. Pain lanced up his right leg as if it were caught in a briar patch. Kili grit his teeth and rolled over to his back to ameliorate the pain.

_What?!_

He peered down at his leg as the stinging sensation faded. The cause of his discomfort became crystal clear. All around his thigh, a cross-hatching of bandages hid the skin from sight. This brought about another realization. He was without breeches. The Dwarf frowned and moved into a sitting position, with a hard yank to pull his tunic over his legs. The garment was a large one. The sleeves fell past his hands- sleeves, he noted, that had a laurel of leaves stitched into their fabric with gilded thread. It was clearly made for a person of high class and of bigger proportions.

_Durin's Beard! I've been taken prisoner yet again. _

Kili sighed. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

_Where is Oin?_ he thought, eyes running frantically back and forth over the room.

_Where is Fili?!_

His heart gave a single beat of panic before flashes of memories flooded his senses.

Him laying prone on a dinner table, the gaping wound on his leg weeping tears of black blood. Pain. So much pain. Enough to make him want to close his eyes and never again wake. Then her.

_Her._

The Elf maiden. Shining before him like a goddess of the stars. He knew it was not the real Lady. Surely it was only an imagining of a pain-dizzied mind. But a single touch from that radiant hand was enough to cure his injury as quick as lightening. He remembered speaking something to the goddess of his dreams. How _relieved_ he had been to be freed from his torture. How he wished to thank her, a thousand times to thank her. The glimpse of his hand reaching out to brush the glowing tips of her fingers was the last he remembered of that moment...

Kili frowned, feeling the texture of his bandage. It was not of human-make. It was as soft as silk, though he knew that should he try to break it, he would have a better time cutting rock with a blade. The dressings were fresh ones. Which meant they had been replaced since his kidnap from the human village. But why? Why bother tending to the health of a prisoner?

Especially a prisoner that had escaped (only to be captured once more).

Before he had an answer, the latest of his memory rose up to claim him. The visage of the Elf-maiden returned in his mind's eye. But this time….she was different. Not shining like a creature of the heavens, but dull. Dull like him. Her arms held his legs as she carried him upon her back. Her hair, still a bright copper despite the absence of glow, flowed around his face as he leant it upon her shoulder. He recollected scenes of him leaning against a rock as the elf gently pushed fruit or bread to his lips. Images of her deftly cutting the bindings on his leg with a dagger and cleansing the wound with stream water and leaf. Then, he was returned to her back with his wound re-bound. She was running. Running with her hair rising to surround his face like a summer's breeze.

He closed his eyes briefly as he enjoyed the scent of those silken tresses: flowers. They smelled as sweet as flowers.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open with awareness.

It wasn't a dream. She _had_ been there in Laketown. Her hands had healed him, and then promptly stolen him back to her Elven kingdom.

Kili was still for a moment as he pivoted madly between joy at seeing Tauriel again, and despair at being returned to the land of his enemies.

_She could have let me die_… The Dwarf ran his eyes over his injury. He flinched at the memory of a black arrow digging into his flesh. It had not been a natural wound. The flesh had remained dark and gaping and had seemed to sap his strength with every passing second.

Seeing it now in the light, sunshine illuminating the crisp white of the bandage, was a surreal experience. Kili cautiously prodded the bindings on his leg. He waited for a spasm of pain. But there was none. The Dwarf knit his brows and pressed harder on the location that he was sure bore the mark of the arrow. A familiar sting made him instantly withdraw the pressure. But…the pain was not intolerable. In fact, it was nothing compared to the agony he had suffered not days before.

Kili quickly came to several conclusions at once. One: the Elves had healed him. There could be no other explanation, since, as far as he knew, the injury had been close to claiming his life before Tauriel had appeared. She brought him here and her people had provided their medicine. Two: his presence in such an extravagant room meant that he was no ordinary prisoner. His hosts were maintaining their treatment his leg and obviously committed to his full recovery. Thus the large bed and its fresh linen. Thus his pristine leg wrappings. Thus the fine tunic of a thousand threads!

He was no hostage.

He was a guest.

* * *

_At least...that is what they would have me think_…

Kili grunted and got to his feet. He transferred his full weight to one leg and then the other. The results of this test were satisfactory. He then bent his knees and executed a series of stretches. Though his right leg still stung when put under significant stress, it was bearable. The Dwarf then surveyed the room. There were no obvious exits aside from the door. As with Dwarf doors, there were no metal hinges upon the wood. Nor was the door seamless. Kili walked to it and ran his hands over the edges available to him. The wood and wall were so close that he could hardly run a hair betwixt them.

He sighed. As his fears suggested, the door was as meticulously wrought as the trees, leaves, and stars all around his room. There was no escape. The Dwarf ran his hands angrily through his dark hair. His fingers combed through them without a snare. Kili snorted and inspected a lock. It gleamed faintly in the light with an unusual sheen.

_They…they bathed me!_

A hot anger enveloped his heart.

Enough was enough. Though Kili was inclined to allow Tauriel's touch (anywhere she wanted, really)- he would NOT endure the hands of some _Elves_ groping him where ever they damn-well-pleased! His captors had taken the clothing of his homeland from him, surely broken his handmade arrows by now, and he didn't even want to _think_ about what they had done to his bow.

Kili let his rage wash over him, burning in its wake any appreciation he had begun to harbor for his hosts. The Elves had betrayed the Dwarves of Erabor long ago. Between them stood a hatred and rivalry that could not be bridged with one healed wound and a set of soft sheets.

He was a fool to have forgotten.

The Dwarf flew to his bed, fingers ready to rip shards of the wood from its frame and carve himself out of that accursed room. A soft knock on the other side of the door halted his frenzy. Kili went still and silent.

"Master Dwarf, I have brought you dinner. May I enter?"

The sound of that musical voice made his blood go cold.

Faster than he thought himself capable of, he released the bedframe and threw the covers across his body. He was suddenly all too aware of his bare legs and naked feet. Color creeping over his neck, Kili pulled up another blanket to drape over his body. "E-enter!" he rasped. A moment later, the door opened without a sound. He marveled at its construction. No hinges, no metal. Only wood. Yet it was as solid as stone and still easily moved. He wondered if he could burn the superior work of carpentry down if things came to that…

Then his eyes went to the Elf maiden and he lost all previous thought.

She really was beautiful... Her skin was soft and tan as if it took in the sun's rays and made them its own. The copper of her hair glittered like the metal it so resembled, and her hazel eyes were crystals of Topaz.

Tauriel gave him a small smile. It was nearly the end of him. The Dwarf busied himself with fussing over his sheets, making sure he was decently shielded from her vision. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she crossed to his side. The Elf's golden eyes remained on him, even as she dipped to place a tray of bread and fruit upon a nearby table. Kili swallowed thickly. With that, he banished his fluster at seeing her again.

"Probably something akin to what a potato bag feels after it's been shipped to market," he said lightly and grinned up at her. Though the maiden had certainly given him a ride smoother than any pony during their journey to Mirkwook, he was not about to make her privy to such a fact.

The Elf did not return his smile. "I shall explain," she said simply. Her eyes went to his right leg beneath the bed sheets. "My kinsman and I were pursuing the band of Orcs that attacked our kingdom during your escape." If she felt any anger or irritation at the mention of the Dwarve's flight from the Elven prisons, she did not show it. She simply held his gaze with a cool calmness. "Before I could engage them, however, I happened upon you in a human dwelling. The Orc poison in your blood was killing you. I recognized the work of my enemy, and would not have it upon my conscience to let their evil take another innocent's life. Thusly, I abandoned my prey and tended to you. We are here in Mirkwood so that your injury may be fully repaired."

Tauriel blinked and suddenly her gaze was upon his face. The intensity he found there was testament enough to the truth of her story. "Our healers have already drawn the last of the poison from your system. Now, all that remains is the successful mending of your body and mind."

Kili brooded over her words for a handful of moments.

Her intentions had been noble ones. She'd known her people could heal him, and performed the steps necessary to bring about his salvation. Kili was certainly happy to be alive. But he was suddenly consumed with thoughts of what he had left behind...

_The Company. Thorin… They have made it to Erabor by now. And they are surely battling that Wyrm as we speak!_ His hands clenched into sweaty lumps. He tried to keep his turmoil from his face. He did not want to fault the beautiful maiden for her endeavors to protect him. But in his current residence, he was far from his family. Far from fulfilling the mission he had set upon so long ago, and all too far from finally seeing his Uncle returned to his throne under the mountain.

Kili lifted his dark eyes up to meet the green-speckled ones of the Elf.

"I….I thank you," he said softly. He cleared his throat and looked at her more earnestly. "Thank you for saving my life."

She nodded and passed him a cup of water. He accepted it and drained its contents. Tauriel filled it several more times before his thirst was quenched. Kili nodded his thanks and drew his sleeve across his moist lips. He noticed the Elf's eyes following the movement. "You know this shirt?" he asked. She smiled before answering. "It is my own." Kili froze and looked down at himself. He hastily rubbed the dampness he had left on its fabric.

The Elf maiden laughed. It was a rich, warm sound. Like honey. "I gave it to you freely, Master Dwarf. As do I freely give you the use of my room." Kili looked up at her with wide eyes. "This…this is _your_ room?" His unfulfilled attempts at destroying the bed shamed him. He was relieved she had knocked when she did. "You needn't sacrifice your bed to me," he said sternly, wishing he could jump out of it. He looked at her helplessly. The fact that she was without her quarters for his sake made him miserable. He decided then, how to clear up the matter.

"You know, Master Elf," he said, laying upon her the epithet she had used for him, "I think I am quite healed." He stretched exaggeratedly and popped the bones of his back. With that display over, he grinned widely into her face. "If you just return my breeches to me, I would have you escort me out of Mirkwood and we can be done with all this." He looked at her expectantly, hoping for her quick agreement.

It did not come. Tauriel watched him with unreadable eyes. "You have not properly mended, Master Dwarf." She gently set the plate of food in his lap and placed a brimming cup of water next to his bed. "You must remain at least three days more to truly be rid of the arrow's ill effects." Kili frowned, unable to restrain it.

"I am flattered by your hospitality," he began, refusing to even acknowledge the bread. "But I am not free to linger here as I please. My Uncle _needs_ me. My people need me. The longer I tarry here, the more likely my brothers* are killed and my kingdom forever lost." He set the tray of food away from him with a jerky motion. An apple rolled off to hit the floor with a loud thump.

The two stared at each other in a tense silence. Tauriel was the first to act. She slowly began moving towards him. Kili instincts writhed, the urge to flee surging in his blood. She was going to attack him, restrain him!- force his acquiescence. But instinct was no match to his fascination with her. The gold of her eyes held him like a spell. He sucked in a breath as she came close enough for her fiery hair to fall over her shoulders and brush his chest. Then, she proceeded and leaning over him to pick up the apple on the other side of the bed. In a flash she was standing straight. Kili blinked dazedly up as he struggled to arrange his swirling thoughts.

"To leave now would only put all the efforts of my people in vain," the Elf finally told him. Her voice was low and grave. Tingles broke out across his skin. The Dwarf attempted to voice a rebuttal, but his head was still reeling. "If you leave here wounded, your weakness will lead to your destruction. It is only in strength that you may survive."

She placed the apple in one of his hands. The feel of her fingertips against his palm brought him clarity. He sat up quickly, bringing his face close to her own. Close enough to feel her breath on his cheek. Tauriel blinked in mild surprise. "I am _not _weak." Kili focused upon channeling his character into his gaze. He had been born with a weapon in his hands, and had achieved lasting fame with his skills in a bow and arrow among his kindred. He was brother to the heir of Durin, as well as Nephew to his people's wandering King. "I would give _my life_ fighting for Thorin and my friends," he said quietly, acutely aware of the destiny he placed upon his shoulders.

He saw understanding flicker in the Elf's fair face. Satisfied, the Dwarf pulled away and settled back into his place among the pillows. Tauriel continued to stand like a statue, her eyes seeming to look past his body to examine the spirit within. "You are right in some things…," Kili muttered, crossing his arms. He felt defenseless under her scrutiny. He sighed and took a bite the apple's flesh. "I will stay. But three days- no less." He looked at her fiercely as he chewed.

The Elf nodded. Embarrassment, smugness, contempt- surely the Elf was host to one of these feelings, yet not a trace could be seen upon her visage. "Very well," she replied. Kili sat quietly as the fire of his indignation ebbed away. By the time the apple had been eaten to the core, he was empty. The Dwarf knew he needed to apologize. Tauriel had not moved from her vigil by his bedside. Her attention might have been considered disconcerting by any other creature. But Kili couldn't help but notice her shining her. And those eyes…those perfect mixtures of gold and emerald. He treasured her gaze. He only wished he had been more civil in his remarks to her. His harsh words still lingered in the air like smoke... Now she was surely eager to be rid of her patient, despite her previous declarations.

"Three days. Then, I will see personally to your exit from these forests," she declared.

Kili flinched. He chewed the core, even swallowing the seeds, and resisted wiping the lingering stickiness on his shirt. "Thank you," he answered softly. He chanced a look in her eyes. What he found was not anger, as he had feared. Instead, he had the strange feeling that she….respected him. At least a little.

Then the Elf maiden turned away and began making her way to the door. Kili sat swiftly forwards in the bed. "Hunting!" he shouted to her back.

She cast a small glance at him. "I ask humbly for the opportunity to go hunting tomorrow. I appreciate the fruit," he said, smiling sheepishly at the untouched tray of food, "but we Dwarves require meat." He turned back to her. "Will you allow it?" Tauriel tipped her head slightly. Her eyes glinted and she pushed a hidden mechanism of the door to make it swing open.

"I would have you hunt as much as you safely could, Master Dwarf," she said, politely enough. He heart rose as the chance to leave the room presented itself.

"But," his heart plummeted, "such a decision is not mine to make. It is my King's, and I have not yet alerted him to your presence in our palace." The Dwarf frowned.

…_.what?_

"I am on my way to relay such information. If he permits you to wander, I will inform you of it." A shadow fell across her face. "If he is angered by my choice to bring you here, however, I will likely not see you again. A guard will be sent instead to take you from my room, and you will be free from this forest much sooner than I would want..."

Her eyes held his as if they were anchored there. The weight of gaze, and her words, made the gravity of his situation sharply clear. Sharp enough to painfully slash apart all hopes he had leaving these quarters under his own liberty.

Yet, all at once he was no longer worried of his own selfish cravings for meat and space to breathe. Nor even about his sudden loss of authority over his own person (had any to begin with). He was worried for _her_.

"Tauriel…," he whispered, unsure of what to say. A tiny flame of fear had kindled in the darkness of his thoughts.

But then she was gone, the door shutting behind her in an eerie silence.

* * *

Note: When Kili refers to his brothers*, he is encompassing the whole of Thorin's company. I am sure that such camaraderie is a prominent feature of the Dwarves, each feeling bound to the other- regardless of bloodline ties. Bilfur and Bombur are as much brothers to Kili as his only true brother: Fili.

And wooo! Chappie 2 down! Angsty stuff, huh? Please review! =3

-Kirin


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tauriel rarely questioned her own judgment. Countless days of walking across a land that surged beneath her feet in flux of energy had molded her into a patient, watchful creature. She had come to treasure life. She considered the trees as much her family as her Elven kin. The birds and deer and insects were her friends. And while she could sit for centuries enjoying the beauty of a sunset painted on leaves or the song of a nightingale, she was quick to take action to defend that which she so admired. The constant threat of evil in her beloved home had forced her to lay upon select heads a swift and merciless death. It was not a responsibility that she shouldered with pride; it was a necessary pain to protect the fragile moments of sunlight and color that persevered in a world of shadow.

After 300 years of serving her forest in the name of her king, Tauriel trusted her heart completely. Hesitation to kill an Orc, slay a spider, or aid a comrade only ended in tragedy. So she acted when duty demanded it, and lost those she loved when instinct or courage failed her. Act. Love. Live. This was the cycle she had come to understand and uphold with every fiber of her being.

With such truths blazing brightly in Tauriel's spirit, it was a wonder to her why she now found doubt darkening her thoughts as she crossed the halls to the palace's throne room.

_Do I….do I truly regret what I have done?_

The Elf resisted the urge to clench her hands. Instead, they remained loosely relaxed while she entered an exited various antechambers bedecked with branches, woodland creatures, and glittering crystals carved into their wooden surfaces. Her people prized the verve of the forest, and felt the ever flowing need to display this reverence in everything their hands could make. Palace, home, weapon, boat, and even clothing were all dedicated to this omnipresent veneration. Tauriel let her fingers drift idly over the textured bark as she questioned the strange feelings in her heart.

She was perplexed by the slight trepidation she felt at seeing her king. She knew he would be displeased by her latest lapse in loyalty. It could be said by none that Tauriel would not give her life to serve her king and country. Indeed, she had nearly lost it on several occasions by taking on campaigns that inevitably landed her on the wrong end of blades and fangs. But she was strong. Always, she was strong. She shot her arrows faster and knew the terrain better than any of her foes. It was her complete confidence in her abilities and judgment that enduringly carried her back to the palace with news of a successful mission. Thranduil allowed her on such journeys because he shared in her faith. Tauriel was as dedicated to her position a captain of the guard as the Mirkwood sovereign was noble in his kingliness. They made a capable pair.

Yet….yet she was not blind to her Lord's less than sympathetic stance towards her. While they had always upheld their respective roles as King and solider, there was something lacking in the personal relationship between two kinsmen. It was this shortage of friendship that made Tauriel's footsteps slower than had she been en route to Legolas or another confirmed companion.

_The fault he finds in my misconduct will be colored by the disapproval he as always held for me and my dealings with his son... _

She knew Thranduil misunderstood the easy camaraderie she enjoyed with the prince. This knowledge had never explicitly complicated the captain's dealings with her commander. She (for the most part) loyally obeyed her king and did not take to heart the constant coldness of his character when in her presence. The father wanted only the best for his heir. And in terms of beauty and royal lineage, Tauriel was from the ideal match. The Elf maiden silently scoffed at the idea of herself linked to another in matrimony. She hardly felt the anything outside of _affection_ for the majority of the males in her life.

The unbidden image of the Dwarfling in her mind's eyes made her stop. For an instant she noticed the dark scruff of his beard, so unlike the immaculate faces of her people. Lingered on the bright sable of his eyes and the quirk of his grin.

Tauriel blinked up the vaulted ceiling above her. She was very near to the throne room now. Accordingly, the decorations were exceedingly lavish. Her surroundings had undergone a transformation from raiment of wood and earth to another of stone and polish. Beautiful spires and arches of marble filled an open space that marked the palace's centre. Friezes of the Silvan Elves' history lay in veins of silver across the smooth stone. Not for the first time, Tauriel wondered how the room of rock seemed to be in subtle harmony with the greenery all around it. She let her eyes flicker over a glittering visage of Oropher* before continuing forwards.

All that lay left for Tauriel to cross was to the gateway: two pale doors with glyphs of the Sindarin language like a crown above the curves.

The Elf quickly tried to dash the Dwarf from her thoughts. But he refused to leave. In all honesty, he was as much a catalyst of her confusion as her king was. Not only was she unusually wary to come face to face with Thranduil, she also could not help but feel ashamed for hiding the Dwarf in her quarters. The only reason for his presence there was her fulfilled wish to save his life. Had she left him in Laketown, he would have perished, she would have continued on with Legolas to hunt and destroy every Orc that had invaded their homeland, and then returned to her king slightly sheepish but certainly not ashamed.

She did _not_ regret saving the Dwarf. It was….it was the repercussions she now faced that worried her. Yes: it was her punishments, and the punishments in wait for the man in her room, which stirred the uneasiness that moved in her blood like a brisk river current. Her heart pounded fiercely at the thought of the Dwarfling's imminent prosecution that would be laid upon him simply for the reasons of his heritage and his claim to life. Tauriel's nose wrinkled with the anger in her thoughts. An anger that had been noticeably lacking during King Thorin and his company's initial imprisoning.

_Enough._

The Elf maiden approached the two sentries standing watch over the entrance to the throne.

They nodded respectfully to her and moved their hands off the hilts of their blades.

"Captain Tauriel," they greeted. She responded by acknowledging their ranks and names. She smiled as they exchanged familiar salutations, falling easily into the role of a solider among fellow soldiers.

She recognized when their conversation was at an end with the Elven guards grew silent and still. At some unspoken command shared between the two, they combined their strength to open the twin doors looming behind them.

Tauriel nodded once more to her comrades before striding to the figure sitting languidly in his perch over the whole of the Mirkwood realm.

* * *

His grey eyes watched her every step. She was accustomed to the feeling of his steely attention upon her shoulders. Yet, it was still slightly disconcerting despite the many years she had spent in the monarch's service.

When she reached the stairway that terminated at pedestal that bore the king's throne, Tauriel flowed into a low bow, one knee on the ground with a hand braced on her thigh. Her hair swept past her cheeks to hang in a copper curtain. The prostration was held for many moments. It was only until Thranduil spoke that she was granted the liberty of climbing to her feet.

"I am glad that you have chosen to return to our Kingdom, Captain Tauriel," the king said, the low timbre of his voice echoing throughout the massive cavern.

"I apologize, King Thranduil, for my absence," she said deferentially, bowing once more. She rose slowly to meet the blue orbs fixed upon her figure. "I left my vigil only to pursue our enemy. The death and destruction they unleashed upon our home was not an injury I could allow to go unavenged." Thranduil was like stone as he considered her words. Tauriel knew the Elf had not asked for the reason for her departure, nor, she knew, did he seek one. She only hoped that he would consider it when he minted out the price she must pay as her penance.

"You understand, Captain, that every command I issue is not for my own personal gain, but for the ubiquitous safety and continued prosperity of our people." Tauriel let her eyes fall to the ground. Guilt was cold in her stomach. "Yes, my King." The icy glare did not waver.

"You also understand that if I were made aware of a more efficient solution to the troubles of this land, I would not hesitate to exact it to its fullest potential." Tauriel heard the intended barb but was not affected. She responded, as he expected her to. They were both familiar with her past discrepancies with her king's orders. Such things did not fade easily from the memories of immortals.

"I asked to you for the permission to destroy Dol Guldur," she reiterated. "The source for the spiders that never seem to tire of infecting our trees. You declined." She swallowed deliberately to stem the ire that was already rekindling in her thoughts at the remembered argument. "You, My King, must surely deem the plan of killing the spiders one by one as the most reasonable course of action in our defense of the forest." She should have said that she agreed with this judgment, and that her own ideas on the issue were null and void in comparison.

But she didn't.

Thranduil slowly blinked his eyes. His pale lashes moved like the sweep of a bird's wing.

"I need **not** explain myself to you. However, I will deign to do so that you may achieve clarity in this matter." He sat up straight in his throne, his tallness made apparent even in his sitting position. "The act of striking Dol Guldur would be that of the boar that stirs the embers of a dry-leaf fire. The boar would burn its nose and flee. In his flight, the embers would be sent flurrying into the air and leaves of the forest floor. The leaves would catch fire. The air would carry the flames to branches and canopies. The whole of the woods would be engulfed in blaze and the boar, who so naively thought himself spirited away from his demise, would swiftly meet it in a storm of heat and scorch." Thranduil rose gracefully to his feet. He rose up and up, his height only augmented by the tips of his crown of branches. His eyes appeared like stark stars in a giant Oak.

"Only certain doom lies in the attack of that evil place. We kill the spiders that wander into this forest for we certainly have the means of dispatching them."

"But My King, they are growing in number! We cannot-,"

"And we will _continue_ to dispatch them until they can no longer crawl from their pits. The only assurance of this kingdom's survival is the unrelentingness of its borders, and the prejudiced annihilation of any and all threats that spawn inside of them. This is why I have forbidden you and all our kindred to leave this sanctuary. This is why you have been called here now, so that you may be enlightened to the great harm your deviancy has the potential of inflicting." The monarch began to casually stroll down the steps. He had all the balance of the Elves and more to spare. She felt trapped in his glacial eyes. Panic writhed under her thoughts.

"Do you understand, Captain? Can you perceive my ultimate devotion for these forests, and the decisions I issue forth as conduits for this love?" Thranduil stopped when he was but three steps from the stone floor. Tauriel dropped her gaze and bowed her head.

"I am aware, My King, always of your compassion for our homeland," she said, face filling with color. Of course she recognized Thranduil's unwavering commitment to the trees and lives under his command. All acknowledged the intelligence and experience of the Grey leader. He was kinsman to the late Elu Thingol*, and saw personally the lush woodlands of Doriath*. All Elves looked upon his name with reverence and love, including Tauriel.

Nevertheless, there existed orders from her king that she had troubles submitting to. There remained a coldness he displayed only to her, and she had difficulties claiming imperviousness to its effects. To the sadness and anger it stirred.

"Our kind does not feel so acutely the wear of time, My Lord," she started softly, "yet even we cannot fight Dol Guldur's blight for eternity. I fear the trees will not survive it. We must take action and-"

"You _will_ respect my authority on this, Tauriel."

Thranduil's great voice boomed all around her like thunder.

"In the best interest of the forest and all who call it home, the boundaries of Mirkwood will remain shut until such a time that I deem otherwise." Tauriel snapped to attention, her spine straightening with an audible 'crack'. Her eyes beamed challengingly into those of her king's. Her attempts at meekness were thrown off. "And what of the Orcs, My Liege? They are free to slip in and out, but I must linger here and watch their backs as they return to their wretched masters?" She moved her hands behind her back so that they would not betray her with their fisting. The knuckles drained of pigment as she clenched them. "Are the spiders and Orcs and filth of Arda allowed to escape, but the very creatures who love these lands and wish only for its salvation are detained as its prisoners?!"

Thranduil's dark brows lowered a fraction of an inch, the only sign of his frustration with her.

"You are young yet, and cannot conceive the damage that would manifest if our defenses were any weaker. You remain here to protect my people. To protect them when they cannot guard themselves, and to shoot your arrow and throw your blade when they do not have the skill to do so! I keep you and the rest of the Silvan Soldiers here, in the fragile flesh of the body, so that if its skin is breached, the life within can yet be saved." Here, his blue eyes darkened to the complexion of storm clouds. "And the Dwarf that you have deliberately brought back is only another illness to wane this forest's sallow strength."

The breath died in her lungs. How had he known? How had she possibly thought he hadn't?...

Tauriel did not risk taking another into her throat until the darkness faded from those pallid irises.

"He…was dying," she eventually explained. "From an Orc arrow. I did not wish to let our enemy claim another."

"So you would save a Dwarf and bring him home, and leave my son to bear the remnants of your renegade quest?" Tauriel felt the passion resurge in her blood and she tipped her chin back as her eyes gleamed. "I did not force Legolas to follow me," she said fiercely. The Elven king frowned more openly at her.

"You did not have to."

Her fury smoldered but did not rise to flame. The maiden felt her fists unclench slightly, feeling for the first time the cumulative weight of her actions. "Now the Dwarf is safe and Legolas remains barred from Mirkwood, far from the only trees and peoples he has ever known."

Her eye's widened.

"He….he has not returned?"

The fire in her chest withered and turned to smoke. Tauriel felt her nails bite painfully into her palms.

_Impossible!_

Legolas was as quick and accomplished a fighter as she! Surely a rag-tag band of Orcs posed no serious threat to the nimble archer?

"He is on his way as we speak, he must be. I would never have left the Prince if I did not think him capable of defending himself." Thranduil looked down upon her as if he stood on a mountain-peak. The remote chillness of his eyes certainly suggested a lofty placement far from the heat of earthly things. "I do not doubt my son." He turned and began his lengthy ascent to his throne. _It is _you_ whom I doubt_. He did not need to say the words. The maiden flinched under the silent assault. The silver of Thranduil's robes gleamed like clusters of distant stars. The king tipped his head slightly to address her over a gilded shoulder, refusing to face her fully.

"I have assigned you to the Black Brach district. There, you will meet up with the guards and aid in their periodical patrol around the forest's borders. I expect you to keep a watchful eye on the horizon and escort my son immediately to this palace upon his arrival."

Tauriel felt something shift in her place in the world. It was not a cataclysmic event. No, something much more subtle… Like a butterfly content in its flight, until suddenly caught in a web that snares its wings with the smallest, sticky strings. The Elf maiden had once thought herself free. Had thought herself entitled to run as fast as she could among the trees trunks, climb higher and higher in rank until perhaps earning a spot on Legolas' personal retinue of soldiers. She used to laugh in the rain and lay in the sunlight until her cheeks turned pink with it.

But no more. Her freedom had been an illusion. Only now did she notice the web that pinned her wings, strands that had always been there- but had formerly been too fine to see. And her own personal spider and woven around her a very special web. _Flight is beyond me, now_. She loved her king. She loved her country. But the sharp realization that the feeling was not entirely mutual was as painful as venom in a fresh wound.

"I apologize with all my heart, My King, for disobeying your orders. I now understand the importance of my position, always, among the trees and the people they shelter," she said roughly. Tauriel bent her body into the harshest of bows, her hair pooling on the ground at her feet. She was ashamed of her actions, though she had not been quite ready to admit it before. The reality was: she had made her first lapse in judgment. Leaving Legolas was a folly she simply had no excuse for, though the Dwarfling's survival provided a slight balm to ease the pain of her mistake.

Exile far from the palace to a perpetual post on the bare edges of her beloved home was to be her penalty for such a mistake.

"I will find Legolas, I swear it." She pressed her eyes tightly shut, waiting for the acidic taste of humiliation to ebb from her lips.

She heard the shuffling of brocade as Thranduil settled into his seat.

"…And the Dwarf, My Lord?" she dared to call up to him.

Among his pale hair and even paler skin, the monarch loomed with a power and age that she would never know. A direct influence in the forces that shaped their world lied in the ancient azure of his eyes. They seemed bottomless as he spoke. "I would have him returned to his cell until that king of his paid a ransom with the white diamonds he has long owed me," he said. Tauriel felt a protest fly to her lips, but she swallowed it down. She could not afford to incur anymore of her sovereign's wrath. If he wanted the purging of all Dwarf-kind from the Mirkwood realm, it would very well be done.

But such a fate was not to be fulfilled. The deepness of his pupils was curtained as Thranduil closed his eyes wearily. "I prefer, however, to meet Oakenshield upon a different field for our next confrontation. Take the Dwarfling with you and see him out of these trees. This time, make sure he never returns."

* * *

Tauriel meandered back to her room with very little haste. She had much to think about.

It was not her king she questioned, though frustration with him was like an itch under her skin. She despaired at the barrier between them that seemed impossible to breach. She lamented that she may never repair this chasm, though as his subject and soldier she desperately wished to.

Alas, there was no remedy for their lost-love. The only option available to Tauriel was to swallow her words and carry out his wishes as she had always done.

His Majesty had made his point crystalline clear. Her place as captain, and the necessity of absolute obedience to the wishes of her higher-ups had been severely brought to her attention. Though the spontaneous urge to forge her own path (as in leading herself and Legolas out of the forest to satisfy her bloodlust) did take her, it was not a regular occurrence. She knew now that should it ever surface again, she was expected to mercilessly suppress it.

The Elf maiden had spent many a year walking the same, leafy paths. She had shot the same spiders, and methodically destroyed webs, nests and other cradles for disease as chronically as she did breathe. Now, she would continue to mundanely perform these chores in her exile.

Yet….yet there was still something within her that refused to settle.

As Tauriel wound her way through archways and wooden galleries, she relived what she had seen outside of the trees.

Grass: fields of it as far as the eye could see, like a lake of green. She had seen rivers of silver waters, racing through with white foam over rocks and under bridges. And she had seen _them_. The mortal races: Dwarves, Humans. Even other animals that had never called bark and leaf their homes. New birds with surprising color pallets, even kind, quick creatures that she had heard named as 'dogs'.

Her heart quickened with the memories, her cheeks flushing like flowers. How amazing the world had been outside! A plethora of plants, animals, and peoples with other cultures, and practices. Just the sight of the Laketown villagers trading fish in the marketplace was an experience that had held her in her place, alight with curiosity. Then the Dwarves. The strange band of characters with their weathered clothes, long, exotic beards, and fiery courage despite their small statures. How strange it had been to hear their rough language. How she secretly wished to hear it again, simply to test the weight of it on her own tongue.

She treasured these sights and sounds. Soon, her conflict with the King was washed away under the delight of venturing out into the world that had always been at her fingertips, yet never quite grasped.

Tauriel looked up as she arrived in a leisure hall. She quickly blinked away the past. All around her, Elves of different walks of the palace life took a moment to breathe. The giant space held a multitude of wooden tables. Upon them, scribes had rolled up their scrolls and catch a friendly word with fellow workmen. Scholars conversed amongst themselves and gestured occasionally to a piece of the palace, apparently said-object a topic of discussion. Their velvet robes and long, tawny hair was soft in the warm ambiance of the room. Metalworkers compared jewelry and blades, and a pair of off-duty soldiers shared a loaf of bread. She even spied a collection of fair skinned maidens exchanging pleasantries as they sewed gold threads and sipped on tea from ceramic cups.

The captain, aware of her many duties, paused as she gazed upon the grace of her kindred. None of them spoke in tones above a soft whisper. Faces, each a different shade of beauty, looked calm and serene despite the Orc attack that had passed not a week ago. _This is the essence of the Elves_, Tauriel thought to herself. Beauty. Tranquility. She understood very well why she gave each second of her day to protecting these ideals.

The rush of life in the other kingdoms outside her own, though, had certainly had their merits. She had personally seen them. Witnessed the brash, passionate ways of the Humans. The gem-filled and metal-loving zeal of the Dwarves. These peoples had displayed to her a layer of life she had not previously been aware of. They had shown her something more of the world that was beautiful. That was _worth_ protecting.

The maiden frowned. The urge to submit to Thranduil's commands and the wonder inspired by the mortals whirled within her. It was this _wonder_ that allowed Tauriel to shake off the momentary-contempt she had been made to feel for slipping into the outside lands beyond her forest. This is why she, ready to comply to Thranduil and patrol the borders for the remaining of an eternity, still longed to do more for her world than kill the evil local to Mirkwood. She wished to help the Humans, and cure them of the despair that permeated their city like miasma. She wished even to aid the Dwarves, and rid them of their dragon- a more pure embodiment of conceit and greed than any Orc or spider.

_There is so much more my hands can yet do…_

She spared her calloused palms a searching look before recognizing a face in nearby table.

"Lady Elwyn!" the captain called. The amber haired woman lifted her head and met Tauriel's eyes. Her grey eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Captain Tauriel," she said as she bobbed her head in greeting.

The Elf crossed to her and smiled. "I ask a favor," she said, the reality of her oncoming journey putting an end to her reminiscing. The light faded from her eyes and a familiar, soldierly somberness settled upon her shoulders like chainmail. "What do you require, Captain?" Elwyn asked, her musical voice nothing but accommodating. Tauriel had always valued the maid as a capable acquaintance. "Would you gather a week's supply of dried fruit into a pack for me? I am also in need of a new quiver of arrows, flint, three water flasks, rope, twine and any other necessities for a prolonged stay in the trees." The Elf blinked, mentally mapping out the locations in which to collect the list of items. "Yes, Captain. I will gather your materials right away. Has My Lord sent you on a new mission? I would have thought your presence would be greatly needed here, what with the recent breach." Her fists clenched at the mention of the Orcs, creatures that could very well be alive and in pursuit of Legolas as they spoke. Tauriel's mouth hardened. "It is because of this attack that my position has been moved to its current location." She executed a quick bow. "My thanks, Elwyn. Please deliver my pack to my quarters before nightfall." With one more quick smiled flashed to the ward, Tauriel turned away and exited the hall with long steps.

The call for action was upon her. Though she knew it was exile, the task of making safe the boundaries of Mirkwood with the Black Branch patrol was still honorable. She looked forwards to proving to her king her inexhaustible cache of skills and love for her homeland.

_I _will _find Legolas. I will eliminate any threat that comes my way._

Tauriel found harboring her habitual frown as another thought entered her mind.

_I….I will escort the Dwarfling to the limit of these woods and bid him farewell…_

The maiden adjusted her course to the armory, seeking a new breastplate and set of greaves. She needed to be fully prepared to leave by the time the moon was high among the clouds. And so would pass the first day of the Dwarf's three day presence in the trees of the Elven kingdom come to an end.

Why did the thought of him truly leaving, and returning to his people far, far away sadden her so?

_Is it because I wish to go with him? To once more taste the foreign lands beyond these trees?_

Tauriel shook her head furiously. She added on the errand of fetching Kili's clothes and weapons to her course. The Dwarf had the curious effect of leading her thoughts down very peculiar paths. It was best if she didn't think of him at all.

_No. No, we will part ways and I will continue on with my duty as a captain of Mirkwood…_

The Elf set her mind on the purchase of a razor-sharp heads for her arrows and continued on the last of her hours spent inside the palace's walls.

* * *

Hey all!

Okay! So, if anyone is wondering why Tauriel calls Kili a 'Dwarfling', it is because she views him as so incredibly young in comparison to herself. This is not to say that she thinks him immature or childish- it is only his decades long age in comparison to her century one that warrants such a title.

Also, I have taken a small liberty with this story. I added some reliefs (like the silver one of Oropher*- Thranduil's father) to Mirkwood, because I thought any good palace should have one ha ha, and I also added a name Black Branch to the part of woods that is patrolled by a select outfit of guards. I again thought it sounded appropriate.

Elu Thingol* was the first king of the Sindar Elves of Beleriand in a forested land called Doriath*, the Sindar being a very ancient race from which Oropher and Thranduil are descended.

Anyway! Hope you liked! Tauriel and Kili actually get some alone time next chappie ha ha.

Review pleaseee!


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