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Time seemed to slow as the orc held the struggling Kili in the air. Pain rushed through Tauriel as she hit the cold, hard ground of the broken tower. She screamed but her voice was lost as she stared at the blade the orc drove through the dwarf’s heart. Her gaze steadied as it was met with the familiar warmth of her love’s eyes. They were pleading her to run, to get away, to save herself because he was done for. A single tear slipped down his face as his life escaped his battered and broken body, he loved her with all of his heart, his whole being and it still wasn’t enough to save her or himself. In that moment, Tauriel lunged for the orc.
Kili awoke in a place unfamiliar to him, slightly delirious, and pain wracking his whole body. He attempted to sit up, unsuccessfully and slumped back into the pillows, focusing his vision on the cielings. Merry song echoed from the distance. Was this Erebor, perhaps? Footsteps scampered closer to his room and his gaze lazily dragged over to find Bofur, surprise evident on his features at him being awake.
“Did I miss much?” Kili tried to jest, but the pain in his ribs prevented him from laughing.
Bofur looked at his future king with sorrowful warmth. “No worries, the party’s just begun.” The older dwarf wandered his way over to his bedside. “How are you faring?”
Kili scrunched up his nose at the question, glancing the other way, ashamed that tears threatened to well in his eyes. His fleeting contentedness dissipated and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I watched my brother die in front of me, I couldn’t save Tauriel and I don’t know where she is, and I nearly died,” he spat disdainfully, “so just about as well as you would think one would fare under such circumstances.”
Bofur sighed and placed a hand gently on his shoulder, “We all lost a brother, Kili.”
Kili turned his face to look at the older dwarf, an apology lingering in the air between them. He hadn’t meant to snap, but considering everything it was understandable. “And what of Thorin?” Kili forced out, his throat burning.
There was a pause between the two, as if both of them were holding their breath. “Thorin is…” the older dwarf fiddled with a gold ring on his finger anxiously, “he died bravely.”
The tears held no empty threats as they welled in Kili’s eyes and spilled over. His hands were brought up to hide his face as quiet sobs left his body painfully with every hiccup they caused, his hands trembling. Bofur held his gaze downcast respectfully.
“The dwarves of Erebor look to you for guidance now,” Kili’s heart pounded in his chest painfully as he braced for the last part of Bofur’s speech, “my king.”
Panic rushed through Tauriel and she jolted awake as she relived the nightmare of losing her love. The pain was fresher than any wound and her chest felt tight. She struggled to steady her breathing as Thranduil’s words wrang in her ears.
“Why does it hurt so much?” she sobbed over the bloodied body of the dwarf she loved so.
Thranduil’s jaw tightened and sadness filled his expression. “Because it was real.”
Anguish overflowed and she held the breast covering her heart. How it ached so, with every beat it pained her. Elves lived a long time. Too long. These painful memories would not stray from her any time soon and she dare not think of living without her love for the rest of her life. Within the year she would surely give herself to misery and fade away, her sorrow filled spirit consuming her body.
She sat up from the tree she had fallen asleep in and held her head in her hands, making an effort to clear her thoughts for a single moment. Where would she go? What would she do? Thranduil and her had seemingly come to a content understanding, a silent respect for one another through their losses of loved ones. However, she was still banished from Mirkwood. She swiftly and expertly climbed down from the moss covered tree that was her haven. Perhaps she would find a place to rest her soul. That was a goal she could work for.
Weeks later and still no sign of Tauriel. Kili cursed under his breath as he looked back at Erebor. He had told no one of his disappearing. Balin would take his place in his stead and he was at peace with the idea. His wounds still burned but the athelas plant they had found growing around the lake helped to speed up the healing process. It was Tauriel who had shown the dwarves the healing properties of the common weed when she cured him of the poison. Erebor would be fine without him. The rebuilding of the stronghold had begun and the survivors of the attack on Dale were eager to help as the dwarves assisted in repairing the town.
But even with so much to celebrate, a deep pain was still buried in his heart. There was no time to celebrate for him. He had lost his elder brother, Fili, and his uncle, Thorin. Not to mention the elf captain who had stolen his heart was nowhere to be found. He frowned, drinking in the site of the lonely mountain one more time before pulling the cowl around his shoulder gracefully over his head and turning, heading into the unknown. He would find Tauriel, no matter the cost.
Tauriel busied herself, gathering herbs. Anything to distract her from the pain she felt so intensely each day. Curse elves for having such powerful memories. It only fed oxygen to the burning pain and desire within her. At night she would still awake screaming, reliving that moment. A year was nothing to any other elf. Elves would often stop counting days, and later months and years. It never really mattered. But this did. She had kept count because there was nothing better for her to do. The suffering she endured was only grief that she deserved, that she endured because if she stopped she may disappear from this world.
Today marked 1000 sunrises since the battle of the five armies.
She couldn’t bring herself to say of what. She could feel the memories stirring in the back of her mind like the beginning of a storm. She wanted to scream, sob, pound the earth and curse the life she was given. But no, she would not indulge herself. And so her hands trembled as she wove the braid of flowers.
Tauriel had built herself a small cottage over the time alotted and set up a garden near it to feed herself. She didn’t know why she kept at such work, but somehow it soothed her, even if only temperarily. She bent down to pick some of the wild flowers that had grown around the carcass of a grand, fallen tree. She closed her eyes, taking in the scent of spring swirling around her. Birds chirped from up ahead and the forest was alive.
As she listened she caught the sounds of twigs snapping nearby and her fingers fiddled with the plucked flowers. Then there was silence.
“Tauriel?” a voice cracked from behind.
Her thin fingers quickly dropped the flowers within them, her eyes widening as she whipped around, eyes welling with tears. That voice! She knew that voice, recalled that voice in seemingly distant memories, reaching out in her dreams for it but never quite there. “Kili!” she sobbed as she darted towards him.
She held her arms out and immediately wrapped them around his neck. He slipped his arms around her waist and embraced her lithe form. The force of their colliding sent them back against the flower blanketed forest floor. She placed her forehead gently against his and tears of joy slipped down the sides of her face. Kili smiled for the first time in years.
“How did you survive?” she whispered, hardly able to contain her utter happiness. She never wanted to let go of him again.
Kili kissed her hair and mumbled, “missed my lungs.”
Tauriel lifted her head and brought a hand to his face, which he gladly leaned into. “I promised I would come back, didn’t I?” he let out in a whisper.
A soft smile pulled at the edge of her features and she leaned down and planted a kiss upon his lips. “I love you, too.”