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Once upon a time there was a small forest kingdom. The woods were green and full of life, the birds sang with joy and spirit, and the people were loved and cared for by their king.
King Thranduil was fair and just, and did what he must to protect his people. He was wed to Queen Calien the Bright, and they had two beautiful children, Prince Legolas and Princess Tauriel. But when a blight affected the forest, and a Necromancer threatened to bring death upon all the land, Thranduil and Calien went out together to face down this evil and bring peace back to their kingdom.
The prince and princess were but children at the time, and were entrusted to the care of a local witch whilst their parents were away. Smaug was her name, and like Princess Tauriel she had fiery hair, and though she kept the children safe, there was a seed of evil in her heart also.
For many long weeks the King and Queen were gone. But at the end of a month, when the moon was full in the sky, the Necromancer was cast out and the darkness retreated from the forest. The people prepared for a celebration of their valiant monarchs, but when Thranduil returned, he was alone. Queen Calien had fallen in battle against the Necromancer.
Thranduil fell into a deep despair. He had saved his kingdom, but lost his wife, and he felt as if the darkness had gathered in his heart. Even his children kindled little joy in his heart, and he brought Smaug to the castle that she might continue to care for them. This pleased Smaug, though she was unfond of the “little brats,” for now that the King was widowed she set her sights upon his throne.
At length Smaug seduced the King, though he did not love her as he had the Queen before her. But she was beautiful, and powerful, and she had done so much for him, so he agreed to marry her. Legolas and Tauriel did not like this turn of events, but they were yet in their youth, and could do nothing to prevent Smaug from becoming their step-mother.
Thus King Thranduil took Smaug as his second Queen, and for a time, the enchantress was content.
Many years passed. Thranduil regained some of his life and vigor, and took his children into the forest, teaching them how to hunt. In her youth, Princess Tauriel had played often with the woodland creatures, searching for fairies and dwarves and other magical beings, and she delighted in these moments when her family seemed nearly whole once more. Legolas rejoiced in bowcraft, and as he came of age, he took many young men of the kingdom with him on long hunts in lands beyond.
Tauriel was the younger sibling, so though she wished to accompany her brother, she was often left behind. Without Legolas, Thranduil grew morose once more, locking himself away in his study, writing letters to neighboring kings and poems of his grief.
Thus Tauriel returned to the forest that loved her, and grew wise and beautiful beyond her years.
Now Queen Smaug let her King and his children do what they wished, for now she had power and riches and glory. She had in her possession a magic mirror, which she used to puff up her vanity, for each time she inquired it would hail her the most beautiful person in all the land.
But one day, just before Tauriel’s seventeenth birthday, the mirror’s answer changed.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who is the fairest of them all?”
As she spoke, Smaug placed a crown of gold upon her head, bringing light to the fire of her deep red hair. To her own eyes she was beautiful beyond compare, but the evil in her heart needed more than that to satisfy her vanity.
The mirror was silent for a long moment, and Smaug frowned, a faint ugliness creeping across her perfect face. At last the spirit within spoke, its voice no more than a whisper:
“O Queen, once thou wert fairest by far,
And still no blemish doth thy beauty mar;
But lo! a maiden now I spy
Whose loveliness surpasseth thine!”
Smaug flew into a rage, tossing her crown to the ground, her eyes flashing. She lifted her fist, ready to break the mirror, but then a thought struck her. She puffed out her chest and demanded:
“Who is this maiden, more fair than I?
Is her smile brighter, and more jewel-like her eyes?
Does her hair shine more than glorious flame?
I do demand this usurper’s name!”
Again the mirror answered:
“Thou knowest her well, O Queen by ring,
For she is the daughter of thy King.
Bright Tauriel, not yet seventeen,
Outshines thy beauty, as is seen.”
The mirror clouded, then cleared to reveal Tauriel, riding in the forest. Indeed her smile was bright, and her green eyes sparkling like emeralds, and her own hair blazing flamelike in the filtered sunlight, only enhanced by the shadows around her. She could have been Smaug’s own daughter, so great was their likeness and beauty, but Tauriel shone also with kindness and wisdom that Smaug could never hope to attain.
Smaug saw all this in her and knew the mirror spoke true, and a jealous rage filled her heart.
Queen Smaug locked the mirror away and called to her a huntsman of great renown. Bard the Bowman was his name, and he hunted often with the King and his son, for Legolas had coaxed his father out into the wilds once more.
But at this time, Thranduil and Legolas were away on a journey, and Bard had stayed home to care for his children in the wake of their mother’s death. He needed money to pay for food, and for child-minding so he might return to his profession, and the Queen offered him a handsome reward if he would do her foul bidding.
Princess Tauriel was uneager to take a chaperone with her into the woods, but Bard was a friend of her father, and she graciously accepted when he offered to accompany her next trip on the very day of her seventeenth birthday. Bard saw now that the Queen spoke truly, and that Tauriel had indeed become the fairest maiden in all the land, and his heart was pricked with sorrow. He was not an evil man, though he had agreed to do this evil deed, and to cut down such a bright and beautiful woman in her youth seemed to him a terrible crime.
With grief in his heart, Bard nocked an arrow to his bow whilst Tauriel was distracted by her own prey, preparing to kill the princess—but Tauriel was no fool, and sensed something was amiss. She spun around, her own bow drawn, and in his surprise Bard’s shot flew wide.
Tauriel kept her arrow pointed at Bard’s chest as she approached, but he dropped his bow and fell to his knees, overcome with remorse and begging for Tauriel’s forgiveness.
“Fair princess, have mercy on my soul!
I know I should not play this role
In sealing thine untimely fate.
Thou art greater than her hate!”
Tauriel knew not what he spoke of, but she could tell his distress was true. She lowered her weapon and knelt beside him, asking:
“Why threaten me, then flinch away?
And furthermore, what didst thou say—
What dreadful woman hates me so,
And to be safe, where shall I go?”
Bard confessed all the Queen had bade him do and why, and Tauriel trembled in fear. Smaug had long since ceased to pretend any affection for her, but this hatred unto death was new. And worst of all—
“Does the King my father know
That his wife would strike this blow
Against the daughter he holds dear?
Alas! he hates me too, I fear!”
Bard bowed his head, for he shared her unease about the King. Thranduil was dear to him, in many ways, but he had changed much from the man he once was.
“I only know what I have told,
And not if evil taketh hold
In the depths of Thranduil’s heart,
If love or grief tears him apart.
I know the King, or so I thought,
But since thy mother’s death was wrought
He has become a different man.
He may have part in this dark plan.”
Bard embraced her then as he would his own daughters, and Tauriel clung to him, knowing in her heart that this would be the last time in a long while she would be shown such affection.
“Then I must flee the wrath of Smaug,
And disappear into the fog
That she might find me not to slay;
Far from the kingdom I must stray.”
Bard knew the Queen’s fury would be great, but he knew equally that he could not kill the princess. He bade her farewell and wished her luck, and Tauriel ran off into the depths of the forest on foot. Bard slew a wild pig and brought its heart to Smaug as proof he had fulfilled her command, but even with the reward she gave him, he was not content.
Now Tauriel fled deep into the forest, deeper than she had ever gone before. For many days and nights she wandered in circles and snaking paths, and quickly became dreadfully lost. Though she was frightened, in many ways the forest was her home, and a better mother to her than Queen Smaug had ever been. And when she grew weary of sleeping amid the roots of trees and wished for a bed, the forest and its creatures showed her the way to a cottage hidden in the wood where she might find respite.
The princess was astonished to find such a homely dwelling so far from civilization, but she was glad to have a roof over her head once more. She explored the little cottage, finding it quite filthy and dusty, and wondered at who last had lived here. She thought she saw signs of life—footprints, dirty dishes, a low-burning fire—but there seemed to be no one there, and so she set about tidying up.
In her happy youth, when Queen Calien yet lived, there had been no need for the King’s children to busy themselves with such chores. But under Smaug’s domain, Tauriel had been given many a mundane task simply to waste her time. In truth it was not the work that bothered her, but the condescension from one who ought to have been a mother to her, and now at least she put that experience to good use in her time of need.
When the cottage was sufficiently clean Tauriel set out once more into the forest to hunt herself a meal. She brought down a deer and dragged it back to her new residence, setting about skinning and cooking it. But now it was nearly dusk, and as her food simmered in a pot on the fireplace, a weariness overtook her. The stew could mind itself for a time; she needed rest.
There was but one bedroom in this little house, and rather than a single large mattress there were thirteen small beds. Tauriel wondered at who could have use for such an arrangement, and her heart panged at the thought of thirteen little orphans, but she made do with what she had, pushing four of the beds together and stretching out across them. Soon she was fast asleep.
Little did Princess Tauriel know that the cottage was not as uninhabited as she thought. Indeed, those thirteen beds each had an occupant, who were at that very moment marching home from the mines after a long day’s work.
It was not orphaned children who dwelled hither, but thirteen dwarves, the remnant of a dwindling people in a neighboring kingdom to the east. Their names were Balin and Dwalin, Ori and Nori and Dori, Óin and Glóin, Bifur and Bofur and Bombur, Fíli and Kíli, and their leader Thorin Oakenshield.
They were kinsmen, delving deep into the earth in search of a magical jewel known as the Arkenstone that would bring its owner great power and wisdom. It was said to have been stolen long ago by the King of this land, Thranduil’s forefather, and hidden deep within the earth, and through mining they hoped to discover it and restore their homeland to its former glory, with Thorin himself as King. But they had been searching the mines for many years, and gotten no closer to their goal.
Now when the dwarves returned to their cottage they halted by the door, wondering and suspicious, for the windows had been cleaned, the dishes had been done, the floors had been swept, and a stew bubbled merrily in their fireplace!
Said Ori, the youngest:
“Do you smell that stew, my friends?
I hope my belly’s where it ends!”
Dori his brother said in turn:
“Don’t be foolish, little lad,
There’s mischief here, or I’ve gone mad!”
At this Nori laughed aloud:
“I don’t deny the mischief plain,
But thine is not the soundest brain!”
Óin all businesslike then said:
“Gentleman, let’s take a look,
And see if we can find this cook.”
His brother Glóin inspected the pot, proclaiming:
“It’s plain to see this is no stew—
Don’t eat it, lads: it’s witch’s brew!”
Bombur, the cook, shuffled to his side:
“It doesn’t smell like that to me,
But like a deer, now don’t you see?”
Balin, the eldest, cautioned all:
“Patience, youngsters, don’t be rash;
If there’s a witch we’d best not clash
Amongst ourselves, or we’ll be caught
All unawares—a frightful thought!”
Impatient Bifur stomped his foot, exclaiming:
“We whisper like we’re welcome not
In our home! By our own pot!
I will not just hide and lurk—
Let’s put our sneaking skills to work!”
Kíli, Thorin’s young nephew, puffed out his chest to cry:
“I’d brave any monster here
To save our home! I have no fear!”
Dwalin, once his mother’s friend, twisted his ear and warned:
“And yet have caution, Reckless One,
Danger lurks within thy ‘fun’!”
Bofur shook his head and said:
“Like as not, our guest’s a friend,
Let’s not burn bridges we can’t mend.”
Said Fíli, rash Kíli’s elder brother:
“And just as likely, they’re a foe—
Until we face them, we won’t know!”
But all fell silent when Thorin spoke, for it was on his decision they waited.
“Quiet, all, and hear my word:
I thought that was a snore I heard.
If our intruder lies asleep
To them softly we might creep
And take them by surprise that we
Can certain in our judgement be!”
Thus the thirteen dwarves moved quiet as they could through their newly-cleaned home, weapons drawn, ready to attack the intruder in their midst. But when they saw the source of the snores, even Thorin was taken aback.
Young Kíli beheld her with awe, stunned by her beauty, and wondered,
“What’s this? A witch in her fair form?
Or a maiden wishing to be warm
Inside a cozy home like ours?
I swear, she’s fairer than the stars!”
At those words, Tauriel awoke. She scrambled upright, grasping for her knife, and all the dwarves but Kíli glared at her, their own weapons drawn. Then a terrible grief overcame the princess, and she burst into tears. Even here she was unsafe from the Queen!
Through her weeping, the dwarves were reassured she meant them no harm, and Kíli reached out to take her hand. When they learned of her flight from the Queen, he promised her they worked for her not, nor even knew of her awful plot, and that she would be safe with them, and Tauriel found a smile once more.
This was not to the liking of all his companions. Thorin in particular glowered at Tauriel, trusting her not at all, and especially disliking the way she blushed at Kíli’s earnest vows. But Bofur liked her laugh, and Bombur asked for her stew recipe, and before Tauriel or Thorin knew it they were all gathered round the dwarves’ table sharing food and becoming fast friends.
Thorin kept an eye on her all through the night, but when in the morning Tauriel offered to hunt again and make more food in exchange for a place to stay, he was not fool enough to turn her down, not with Kíli’s pleading eyes. She bade them all farewell as they departed once more for the mines, and blushed as Kíli kissed her palm. He might have stayed behind, had his brother Fíli not dragged him along, eyes rolling.
Thus the princess found another home and thirteen new friends. Days passed into weeks, weeks into months, and soon Tauriel was so at home in the dwarves’ cottage that she could almost forget the evil that drove her hence, and her family along with it.
But back in the castle, Queen Smaug was not at all at ease.
Thranduil and Legolas had returned from their hunting trip, and she spun them a sorrowful tale of Tauriel’s demise, saying she had been killed by a bear in the woods. Bard, she said, fought valiantly to save her, but in the end she had been lost.
Once more a terrible grief overcame the King, and in his mourning he passed all responsibility to his Queen. Now Smaug was glad, for she ruled the kingdom in truth, and not even suspicious young Legolas could find fault with her.
But as the months passed on, Smaug’s heart was disquiet. She knew now that she was the fairest in all the land, and yet she had not had the courage to ask the mirror for confirmation. Even if Tauriel was dead, had some other maiden surpassed her? Could Prince Legolas, near as beautiful as his sister, cheat her of this victory also?
And so again she brought out her magic mirror and asked:
“Magic mirror on the wall,
Who now is fairest of them all?”
The mirror’s spirit appeared in a swirling mist, and answered:
“Through the forest dark and vast,
Beyond the caverns jewelled and glassed,
In the dwarven cottage small:
Dwells Tauriel, fairest of all.”
Now a black mood overcame the Queen, and she drew out the chest in which she kept the heart given to her by Bard, crying:
“Nay! she lies dead in the forest you name!
The Bowman’s black arrow was true in its aim!
Her heart he carved out and presented to me
As proof of her death that I might myself see!”
Then spake the mirror:
“O Queen, next fairest in the land,
The heart thou holdest in thy hand
Is of a pig the Bowman caught,
Not the maid his arrow sought.”
Smaug threw the chest to the ground, letting the pig’s heart splatter upon the floor. She shoved the mirror away, raging to herself.
“The heart of a pig? Then I’ve been tricked!
A great revenge I shall inflict
Upon that traitor Bard! But first:
I’ll kill her myself, or make her cursed!”
Now she descended to the depths of the castle, past even the dungeons, to where she kept her secret magic lair. Smaug then made a potion of disguise, using a sparkling white stone as the source of her power. She had taken this gem from Thranduil’s treasury, where it had been hidden deep underground for centuries after being stolen from a neighboring kingdom, and without it she was less a mighty enchantress and more a petty witch.
She changed her queenly raiment into a peddler’s cloak and altered her visage to that of an old crone. When she crept from the dungeon, none could recognize her, and she set out into the forest to find the cottage where the thirteen dwarves and their princess guest dwelt.
The dwarves spent their days working in the mine, delving ever deeper. They found many gems and veins of precious metals, but never did they discover the jewel they sought. The Arkenstone, they sighed, the Arkenstone! It would bring them magic and power beyond measure, they believed, and no one believed it more than Thorin Oakenshield, the would-be King.
And yet their search had gone on for many years before Tauriel’s arrival. Many of the dwarves were weary of the work, and wished to return home or make their fortunes elsewhere. And Kíli, enamoured of Tauriel, wished rather to stay behind in the cottage and make her his wife.
Tauriel thought Kíli quite sweet, but she knew not what to do with his affections. She liked him, but his uncle intimidated her, and so also did his brother. And she yet worried that Smaug would discover her hiding place, and she wished not for her to harm her friends. Often she thought of leaving, but the cottage was so homely and the dwarves so affectionate—save Thorin and Fíli, of course—that she was always convinced to stay.
One day a vote was taken among the dwarves: to stay and mine, or return to their home. Thorin was furious his company would desert him, and the vote was desperately close. In the end it was seven to seven, with Kíli as the final vote. His choice would decide their fate.
But Kíli chose neither option, saying instead:
“I wish not to leave this gentle land,
But to ask our princess for her hand
And keep my dwelling here in peace
And all my mining days to cease.”
Then Thorin cried:
“Then thou shalt stay, and I will too—
But she will not! Her lease is through!
We’ll search still for the Arkenstone,
But she must strike out on her own!”
Then Tauriel quailed and fled, weeping, into the forest. Kíli and Thorin fought bitterly, and in the end it was Fíli and wise old Balin who calmed them down. The dwarves agreed to remain for a time, appeasing Thorin, and they all begged for mercy upon poor Tauriel.
Now Thorin was overcome with shame, apologizing to Kíli and setting out on his own to search for the princess. Yet it was not her he came across, but a stout fellow by the name of Baggins, claiming to be a lost traveler. Thorin gave him directions and let his frustrations slip, even waxing poetic over the lost Arkenstone. Mr. Baggins comforted him, and lightened his mood, but he could not stay forever: he wished to return to his own home.
Thus Mr. Baggins went on his way, and Thorin resumed his search—but Kíli made his own hunt for the woman he loved, and found her first. When he saw her he fell down to his knees, begging her forgiveness for his uncle’s cruelty, and at last Tauriel’s heart softened to him, and she knew she loved him.
“Thou art forgiven, Kíli dear;
And my departure, do not fear.
If Thorin allows me to return,
My keeping I will seek to earn.”
She drew him up and kissed his hand as he had so many months before, and together they walked back to the cottage, finding Thorin on their way.
The next day the dwarves set out once more for their mines. Kíli, though sad to depart from the maid he courted now in earnest, was determined to prove his worth to his uncle and went with them. Thus Tauriel was left alone, and received two strange visitors that day.
The first was Mr. Baggins, still lost, asking after Thorin. When he was told his friend was not at home, he begged Tauriel for directions, but she confessed she was just as lost as he, though she liked it that way. She invited him in for tea, telling him Thorin and the company would be home by sundown if he wished to stick around.
Though Bilbo knew not the way back to the kingdom, he was knowledgeable about its affairs and spoke with Tauriel at length of the royal family. Tauriel’s heart panged to hear of her father’s grief over her assumed passing, but she felt safe now in the knowledge that the Queen believed her dead. Perhaps she could stay here, in this cottage, with Kíli, and be happy.
Now Mr. Baggins grew weary, and Tauriel offered him a bed, one of the thirteen used by the dwarves. (Kíli and Bofur had made her a larger bed of her own in the months since her arrival.) Then she set about tidying up after teatime, when an old woman knocked upon the cottage’s door.
Tauriel was surprised to see her, especially when she claimed no friendship to her dwarves as Mr. Baggins had. But she was not so cruel as to turn away an old maid, and spoke kindly to the stranger.
And strange indeed she was. Something about the glint of her eye seemed familiar, and the cadence of her voice, though crackling with age, stirred fear in Tauriel’s heart. When the crone drew forth a basket of acorns, Tauriel’s favorite, she hesitated.
Said the hag:
“Candied acorns are quite the treat,
Not even apples taste so sweet!
Why, our late princess, rest her soul,
Would often eat a giant bowl!”
Tauriel remembered this, for she had loved candied acorns as a child. Queen Smaug had introduced her to them, back before she was the Queen and she simply was a minder of children whilst their parents were away. Indeed, she was mightily tempted, and she found she could not resist accepting the gift. But she set it aside, and did not eat one right away.
The old maid dithered, urging her to try the snack, and Tauriel questioned how she had come to be in this secluded part of the forest. The crone only laughed, loud and long enough to wake Mr. Baggins, who came bumbling down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. He smiled to see the basket of acorns, reaching to pop one in his mouth, and a sudden flash of jealousy ripped through Tauriel.
“No, my friend, those sweets are mine!
Find other candies to be thine!”
Indignantly, Tauriel snatched the basket away, stuffing three acorns into her mouth and humming happily.
At this the hag laughed again, her voice growing smoother and deeper with every second. Tauriel felt dizzy, all of a sudden, and cried out, collapsing to the ground. She knew that laugh—it was Smaug’s cackle—but her eyes grew heavy and she found she could do nothing but slip into a deep sleep...
Now the crone, who was no crone at all, shifted back to her queenly form, laughing all the while. Mr. Baggins trembled, falling to his knees before his Queen, begging forgiveness. Smaug chuckled again and patted his head, saying:
“O humble subject of the Queen,
Speak naught to none of what thou’st seen
And I will spare thy life this day.
But thou shalt swift become my prey
If one word slippeth from thy tongue—
Upon the gallows thou wilt be strung!”
Mr. Baggins wept and promised obedience, but begged to know if Tauriel was dead. The Queen snorted and revealed that nay, she lived: but she had been enchanted to fall into an eternal slumber, a living death, and never could she wake without true love’s kiss.
“But there is clearly no such thing.
Not even a dwarvish wedding ring
Could save her from the curse I’ve wrought.
A life of beauty she’ll have not!”
Then Smaug drew her white stone from the depths of her cloak, and with its magic vanished into the forest, but not before Mr. Baggins’ eyes grew wide at the sight of that marvelous jewel.
Mr. Baggins carefully laid Tauriel out on her bed and fretted over what to do. He feared the Queen, now knowing the depths of her cruelty, but Tauriel and Thorin had been nothing but kind to him in his hour of need, and he felt wrong leaving them in the dark. Thus he waited for sunset, pledging to make his decision then.
The dwarves returned home with a song, expecting Tauriel to have prepared a meal for them as she usually did, but instead Bilbo awaited them, wringing his hands. He burst into tears and told them of Tauriel’s fate, but said naught of the Queen, instead describing only the evil hag who cursed her.
All thirteen dwarves were distraught—even Thorin!—but none more so than Kíli.
“O Tauriel, queen of my heart,
Alas that this is how we part!
Curse the crone who brought thee low!
A greater pain than mine she’ll know
Once I have found and beaten her;
To she my pain I will transfer!”
At this Mr. Baggins cried out, lying that he knew not who the old woman was nor where to find her, and warning that fighting back would only hurt Tauriel further. Instead, seeing the pain of Kíli’s broken heart, he spoke of the counter-curse.
“The princess lies in sleeping death;
She has not died: she still takes breath.
The curse may yet be made undone
And victory from death be won,
For as she left, the crone proclaimed
That true love’s kiss (or so she named)
Could break the spell so she awakes
And bring her back for all our sakes.”
Kíli rushed to Tauriel’s side, hesitating only once before pressing his lips to hers. He had never been so bold before, but he knew his love was true, and hoped that she loved him in return. The dwarves and their guest held their breath for a long moment, but when Kíli pulled away...nothing had changed. Tauriel yet slept.
Weeping, Kíli turned away. He knew now that she loved him not, or that he loved her not enough, and that some other person had the true claim to her heart. Fíli took his brother into his arms, comforting him, for though these feelings were strange to him he would ever be there in his brother’s need.
It was Thorin Oakenshield who spoke next, his voice more grave than ever before.
“Our goal, to us, has e’er been known:
We seek to gain the Arkenstone,
The magic jewel to save our land—
And it might save the maid at hand.
If Kíli’s love is not enough,
Perhaps the gem is up to snuff.”
But Kíli had no more faith in finding the jewel than he had before.
“Should we search ’til end of days
We’ll never find the rock so praised!
If true love is her only hope,
I’ll find that love, and I will cope
With her dear heart not being mine.
If she lives free, I’ll gladly pine!”
So it was decided: Thorin would lead the majority of the dwarves back into the mines, where they would redouble their tireless search for the Arkenstone, whilst Kíli and Fíli searched far and wide for someone worthy of Tauriel’s love. They would break her curse one way or another, and would not cease until she walked and spoke and laughed again.
Now Mr. Baggins heard all this, and thought on all he had seen, including that which he had not told the dwarves for fear of Queen Smaug’s wrath, and he began to think that perhaps he, also, could aid in this quest. He set out once more to find his way back home, a plan forming in his mind that he shared with none. If he failed, no one would know; if he succeeded, he could explain later.
Thus Mr. Baggins left to the kingdom, the dwarves to the mines, and Kíli with his brother to lands beyond where perhaps some prince might save the princess who lay ever-sleeping in the empty cottage.
Queen Smaug returned to her castle in high spirits, convinced at last of her success. Yet her heart grew ever darker, and she had not forgotten the pig’s heart or the lying Bowman. She stalked through the halls, plotting her revenge, and when she saw Bard returning from a hunting trip she summoned him immediately.
But she struck too soon, for Prince Legolas had accompanied Bard upon his journey, and came with him to greet the Queen his step-mother. Smaug spake only in veiled threats, not wishing to reveal Tauriel’s true fate to her brother. Legolas remained ignorant, but Bard knew of what she spoke, and knew he was doomed.
As soon as he was able he fled from the Queen’s presence, trusting in Legolas to distract her for a time, and rushed to the side of the grieving King. He had long served Thranduil, harboring a deep and secret love for him, and though he had not known when last he saw Tauriel if her father was complicit in her demise, he knew now the King’s grief at her supposed passing ran too deep to be false.
Bard fell at Thranduil’s feet, weeping, begging forgiveness for his crimes, but the King drew him up gently.
“O Bard, my Bowman, faithful friend,
Thou speakest strange, and to what end?
Never hast thou wronged thy King;
Indeed for thee my heart doth sing.”
He breathed deeply, and continued softly:
“I have lost too much to grief
And turn to thee for some relief.
My Queen, fair Smaug, hath not my heart,
But now again the angel’s dart
Has struck me true, and brought to me
Affection, deep—and all for thee!”
Once Bard would have wept with joy to hear such words, for his heart returned Thranduil’s love, but now he felt only wretched. He wept the more, and spilled his tale: of Smaug’s command, of Tauriel’s flight, of now the threat upon his life.
At this Thranduil grew still and quiet. When he spoke again it was soft and gentle, and no less loving.
“Then Tauriel lives, and Smaug hath proved
Her hate for me and all my brood,
And thou hast made this known to me.
All will be well! I promise thee!”
He rose, drawing his sword as he had not done since he and Queen Calien had gone to face the Necromancer together, and smiled to Bard.
“Let us now confront my Queen
And strike her down, so it is seen
By all the cruelty she hath wrought
Now that in her lies she hath been caught!”
Bard found his courage within him and drew his weapon also, vowing in his heart to follow Thranduil to his very death. Together they would take down Smaug, and return Tauriel to her home, and perhaps then he and his King could begin a love of their own.
Thranduil and Bard burst into the Queen’s chambers, where Legolas’ patience for his step-mother was running thin. He smiled to see his father so upright and kingly in his bearing, but his eyes narrowed as he took note of the drawn weapons. Queen Smaug lounged in her throne, sneering at her husband and his companion.
Cried Thranduil:
“Smaug, foul traitor and thrice-cursèd wife!
Would-be kinslayer and bringer of strife!
Today I hath learned much of thy dreadful deeds
Of blackmailing Bard, my most loyal liege,
To strike down my daughter, so fair in her prime!
Yet he is faithful—thou’rt foiled this time!”
At this Smaug laughed, and threw back her head.
“Though the cowardly Bowman failed in his task,
T’was a lesson worth learning: never to ask
Another to do a dark deed better done
On mine own! For this morn with the rise of the sun,
I hastened to Tauriel’s dark hiding hole
Where at long last I achieved my great goal
And fed her an acorn, poisoned with death!
She slumbereth now, and will soon take no breath!”
Legolas then sprang to his feet, crying out against her cruelty. Thranduil, not wishing to lose his son so soon after losing his daughter, commanded him to leave and search the forests for Tauriel’s hiding place, that he might ascertain the truth of Smaug’s words. Torn between a desire for vengeance and a desperate need to reunite with his perhaps-not-dead sister, Legolas bowed to his father and fled, leaving him and Bard to face the evil Queen alone.
Thranduil commanded Smaug to surrender and face judgement, but none expected her to back down this easily. She had long since grown accustomed to power, both royal and magical, and she would not give it up for anything but, perhaps, her life.
Thus Thranduil advanced upon her, he who once called her wife, and was blown back by a burst of magic. He rose, and advanced again, and was again struck down. Bard rushed forward with a knife, thinking to carve out her heart as she would have had him do to Tauriel’s, but he, too, was beaten back.
Again and again they attacked, now and then managing to strike a blow, but she was confident and full of great power, for even without her white stone she had grown much in her magic since the time she cared for the King’s children while their parents were away. Yet now, as Thranduil lay sprawled on the floor and bleeding, as Legolas fled into the forest on a futile quest, as Bard trembled and failed to rise to his feet, Smaug laughed wickedly, for she had her stone with which to destroy them so utterly it would be as if they had never existed.
“Behold my might, o petty King!
Of thy weakness, bards shall sing,
But not this Bard thou holdest dear,
For at thy side he’ll perish here!
The dwarven-jewel hid ’neath the earth,
Plundered by kings before thy birth,
I have freed from dungeons deep
And caverns old, where treasures sleep.
For with this jewel my power grows
To mighty strength none might oppose,
And with this gem thine end shall come:
Now perish, wither, and succumb!”
Smaug reached into the depths of her cloak, prepared to draw out the white stone and turn her enemies to ash—but to her great astonishment, there was nothing there.
She looked again, and again, but each time she found her hands empty. She screamed, whipping her head around to curse Thranduil with naught but her own power—
But in her confusion Bard had at last stood and nocked an arrow to his bow. She now stared at him, anger freezing on her face, as Bard smiled grimly, aiming straight for her heart.
“Arrow, black arrow, from my father of old,
Thou hast never failed me, nor he, I am told;
To the end I have saved thee, for this foe to fell,
Serve thy purpose, black arrow! Go now and speed well!”
With those words he let the arrow fly, and though Smaug threw up a magical barrier around herself, it pierced through and struck true. Smaug screamed again, clutching the arrow buried in her chest, but her cries trailed off into a gurgle as she slumped at last to the floor of her throne room, dead.
Now Kíli the dwarf expected not to find Tauriel’s true love within the first day of her slumber. Indeed, he and his brother anticipated a search of many harrowing years before discovering one worthy enough to break her curse and win her heart. But yet even as the sun began to rise the morning after she was cursed, they came across a fair prince in the forest, and Kíli’s heart leapt with hope.
“O Prince! What brings thee to this wood?
A search for love that’s true and good?
We know a Princess, young and fair,
With emerald eyes and auburn hair,
Who lies asleep ’neath witch’s curse,
Which only true love’s kiss might burst.
We seek for one so kind as thee,
That her spell might broken be!”
Now of course this young prince was none other than Legolas, Tauriel’s brother, who knew at once who Kíli spake of. He gripped the dwarf’s shoulders, eyes wild, and demanded:
“Nay; true love means naught to me,
But a sleeping maiden—can it be?
Is Tauriel the princess cursed?
Does she yet live? I fear the worst!”
Now Fíli exclaimed:
“Tauriel! Yea, that is she!
And how might you her savior be?”
At this Legolas said:
“I am the Princess’ brother dear!
Prince Legolas, who once was near
To her in heart! I have been sent
To discover where she went
That I might bring her home once more.
Our father fights to settle scores
With wretched Smaug, her name be cursed,
Who wrought this evil, then made it worse!”
Kíli started, and grabbed his arm.
“Her brother! Well! But then, perhaps—
Thy love is true, it may collapse
The curse upon her, where mine did not.
A pretty trap this Smaug has wrought!”
Legolas stared in wonder, but soon shook his head.
“Thou lovest her? What a strange tale!
But tell me later; we must prevail
To save my sister, Tauriel,
And see her back home, safe and well!”
Kíli led Legolas back to the cottage, both of them eager to see if a brother’s love could break the curse. But when they arrived, the place was already in an uproar, for none other than Mr. Baggins had returned!
In his hand he held a gem, shining white, pulsing with magic. Thorin’s face shone in its glow, pale and fearful, for he knew what this jewel was—and Bilbo did also.
“The Arkenstone! I’ve found your rock!
‘Beneath the earth’—nay, behind a lock!
T’was not buried deep within a mine
But hidden where it could not shine,
In the foul Queen’s treasure vault.
And hark! This mess is all her fault!
She it was in old maid’s guise
Who cast this spell before mine eyes.
I did not tell you then, for fear,
But I saw also this jewel here,
And knew it for thine Arkenstone.
So underneath her gilded throne
I crept, awaiting her distraction,
At which I took my boldest action.
I never thought myself a thief,
But not to steal would bring more grief!
As she raged against the King,
I slipped on my magic ring.
(A longer tale than this to tell;
Ask later, and I’ll tell it well!)
Invisible, my thief’s hands sought
For her gem, e’en as she fought,
And snuck it into mine embrace
Fleeing then without a trace!
Then I rushed right back to here
Where perhaps the jewel could heal
Poor Tauriel, with its great power,
For it cast the spell, in that dark hour!”
Kíli wept, his hope renewed, and guided Mr. Baggins to Tauriel’s bedside. But none among them were witches, and they knew not how to work the jewel, save perhaps Thorin the King-to-be. But even in his kingly hands, the Arkenstone could not reverse the curse.
His heart heavy, Thorin cast aside the jewel he had so long searched for, crying:
“What good are magic gems for me
If with them I cannot make free
This maiden, who deserves to live!
Myself I never shall forgive
For failing her, and all my kin,
I am not fit to be a king!”
Legolas watched this all in awe, and now grief overcame him. He knelt at his sister’s bedside beside Kíli, who wept for the loss of his hope, and took the dwarf’s hand. Kíli looked at him, and they met one another’s eyes, and an understanding passed between them.
As one Kíli and Legolas, lover and brother, bent to kiss Tauriel’s brow. It was a goodbye, they thought, an honor to the princess they never expected to wake.
But even as they turned away in sorrow, Mr. Baggins gasped. The thirteen dwarves and Legolas looked back—and saw that Tauriel had begun to stir!
She woke, and fell first into Kíli’s arms, kissing him soundly in a way she had not done before. But that kiss was brief, for soon she leapt into Legolas’ embrace, for she had missed him dearly in the months since her exile began.
It is not known quite how the curse was broken. Some say it was in that moment that Smaug died, ending her spell; others say it was the Arkenstone’s effect, delayed; still others claim it was a faulty curse to begin with, always bound to fail. But to ask Tauriel, she would say it was the combined love of her brother and the dwarf she adored, and none would know better than she.
Indeed, Tauriel was said to have proclaimed as much the very minute she awoke:
“Legolas, my faithful brother!
I should have known there was no other
Who could save me from this spell—
Save for my dwarf, who loves me well!
A thousand thanks to both of thee:
It’s thanks to you that I am free!”
Great was the rejoicing that day, for Tauriel was free, and Smaug defeated, and the Arkenstone found! Indeed, Legolas took his sister and all thirteen dwarves, and Mr. Baggins, back to the castle to celebrate, and many joyful tears were shed as Tauriel reunited with her father.
Now Thranduil and Bard had burned Smaug’s corpse, and confessed to one another the true depth of their love, and after such trials and griefs they had endured, they decided they wished only for peace. In his last act as King, Thranduil gave the Arkenstone to Mr. Baggins (its rightful burglar), and declared he would cede the crown to Legolas. He and Bard the Bowman intended to wed, and retire to a nearby village with Bard’s young children, and live out the rest of their days in quiet happiness.
Mr. Baggins (whose rightful name was Bilbo, as is told in his merry tale of how he won his magic ring—but that is a story for another time) grew ever more fond of Thorin Oakenshield, and offered the Arkenstone to him as a gift. But Thorin, who had grown fond of Bilbo Baggins himself, said instead that they would share the jewel, and return as kings to the dwarves’ home in the east and rebuild the kingdom together. Mr. Baggins was a wise man, and knew a good deal when he heard one, and accepted this proposal—for a proposal it was, of marriage as well as business.
A third wedding there was that spring, most joyous of all: that of Kíli the dwarf and Princess Tauriel. Though the other dwarves would return with their new kings, Kíli wished to stay in the cottage he had come to call home. Tauriel had endured enough of politics and scheming, and wished no longer to be a princess, instead desiring to be a wife and perhaps some day a mother.
Thus everyone found a place that suited them, and Legolas ruled as King, and though they were apart in their homes they visited one another often, and they all lived happily ever after.