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Tilda found her out in the old Lord’s Hall, which they were using as a makeshift infirmary for the wounded, it being the biggest building among the ruins of the old town, its high stone gables providing much added shelter along with the tents they had rigged. Sigrid was helping Hilda, fetching and carrying for the healers: clean bandages, herbs and draughts, water and soup. She had been run off her feet all morning, so it was with a mingling of irriration and relief when she saw Tilda making her way between the beds towards her, breathless and excited.
“Sigrid, Sigrid, they’re leaving!”
Sigrid stopped, hitching an empty pitcher under one arm and with the other, pushing back some strands of hair that had come loose from her braid. “Slow down, Tilda, you’ll knock something over. What are you talking about? Who’s leaving?”
“The Elves,” said Tilda. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”
For some reason, Sigrid felt a dull drop in the pit of her stomach. “What? How do you know?”
“That great grand King of theirs — he came to talk to Dad, and I heard him telling him. He said that now we have our shelters and supplies sorted, he would be taking his folk back up the woods.”
“All his folk?” Sigrid said quietly.
“I think so. Well, their prince already went away, didn’t he, but the rest of them.”
All at once, Sigrid realised her heart was beating hard, with a rising feeling of something strangely like panic. “Is Tauriel going with them?” The question was out almost before she thought of it.
Tilda frowned. “Oh… I don’t know. I thought she was staying here? But maybe if she and the Elvenking have made up their argument…”
She trailed away into silence, but she didn’t need to say any more, for the same thought was already in Sigrid’s own mind. She knew that Tauriel and King Thranduil were now reconciled — Tauriel had already told her so herself — and though Da had already made her welcome in Dale, maybe she would choose to go back to her own people. Why wouldn’t she? Sigrid knew she should be happy for her, but for some reason the thought caused her heart to give a sudden painful twist. Since the night of the dragon’s coming, Tauriel had become a great friend to them all — Sigrid didn’t think she’d ever felt such a keen and instant liking for anyone — and now suddenly, to think that she might suddenly leave, going back with her people to vanish back into the secret shadows of the Woodland Realm… her heart twisted again, harder.
“Here.” Before she quite knew it, she found herself handing the pitcher into Tilda’s arms. “Will you take my place here for a while? Just fill this up and take it to old Martha over at the far end.”
“Oh, but I was going to—”
“Please. I won’t be long, I promise.”
Tilda huffed, but gave way. “All right. But just for a little while. I told Hilda I’d help her.”
“Thanks.” Flashing her sister a quick smile, Sigrid touched her arm, then darted from the infirmary. Outside, the square was thronged with people coming and going on the countless errands that needed seeing to as winter closed in on them. Gathering her shawl about her, Sigrid wove her way between the hurrying figures, casting about for a glimpse of Tauriel’s bright hair. But though there were a few Elves among the Dale-folk, none of them were she.
Guided by a hunch, Sigrid mounted the broken stairs that led up to the crumbling rampart-walk on the city walls. And there, with a sudden leap of her heart, she realised she had reached the end of her search. Tauriel stood alone, gazing out over the walls and down into the valley where the Lake lay. The wind lifted and streamed through her hair, and the pure winter sunlight made it gleam like copper. She looked deep in thought, almost solemn, and for a moment Sigrid feared she might be intruding; but she had no chance to think twice about what she was doing, for Tauriel’s keen ears must have heard her step upon the walls, for almost at once she turned in Sigrid’s direction with a smile.
“Hello, Sigrid.”
“Hello,” Sigrid replied, inwardly cursing herself for how foolish she sounded. Seeing Tauriel there before her, she was suddenly pierced by a keen, painfully poignant feeling of fondness, and again she thought how much she couldn’t bear it if Tauriel were to disappear into her elven woods, never to return.
“Tilda said the Wood-elves are leaving tomorrow,” she said, the words tumbling out of her with unwonted haste and clumsiness.
Something unreadable flickered in Tauriel’s eyes. “Yes. The King passed the word earlier.”
Sigrid swallowed. “Are… are you going with them?”
Tauriel gave a sigh, her whole face softening with sudden sorrow. “I do not know. He has told me I would be welcome to return, but—” She gave a slight shrug, a helpless gesture. “Much has happened. Even before I left, I felt a longing to see more of the world beyond our realm. Would it still feel like my home?” Her voice was soft, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “But there has also been much grief, so much loss — perhaps it would be wiser for me to go back?”
Hearing these words, Sigrid felt a pang of guilt. They had all lost much after the battle and the dragon’s coming, and she knew that Tauriel had lost much, too; but all she could think about was what she wanted. Somehow, that thought seemed to shake some sense back into her.
“Oh, Tauriel. I wish I knew what the right thing to say was. Of course you should go back with your own folk, if that’s what’s best. I know your King would be glad to have you back. But I just wanted to tell you that you’d also be welcome to stay here, if… if you wanted to.”
Tauriel looked at her, a sudden, keen look: searching — almost, Sigrid thought, rather uncertain. “Your father certainly said as much,” she said, in careful tones.
“And he meant it,” Sigrid said earnestly. “Not just so you can keep training up the archers—” she smiled as she said it, and thrilled to see that Tauriel smiled, too — “but because he likes you. We all like you very much, Tauriel, and we’d all be happy for you to stay: Bain, Tilda — and me,” she finished, firmly.
Again that searching look, but Tauriel’s smile grew, gaining in light and warmth. “You would?”
“Yes,” said Sigrid, softly but definitely. Before she was really aware of what she was doing, she reached across and took Tauriel’s hand, long and fine-boned, squeezing it to add force to the point.
No words could describe the warmth that flushed through her when she felt Tauriel squeeze her hand in return. “I think,” she said, “I would be very happy to stay.”