Chapter Text
New York, 2016.
“Legolas!” the woman exclaimed, breathless, as she hurriedly climbed the museum’s entrance stairs, trying to balance a tray of coffee in her left hand and a backpack in her right. “Wait for me!”
The man turned, raising an eyebrow as he saw her running towards him. She was dressed in a bulky white jacket, matching her light-colored cap that had a large pompom on top. He smiled and shook his head, walking down two steps to catch up to her and take the tray from her hands.
"Oh my God, Tauriel! You're going to run someone over at this rate." he said, exasperated, as he looked around at the busy street. The day was coming to an end, and people were hurrying towards their homes. "We still have five minutes until our shift starts." he added, checking the watch on his wrist.
“No! We’re late! Inspector Beorn asked us to arrive early, remember?” she said, her eyes wide as she grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him toward the museum entrance, hurrying through the revolving doors. “He wanted us to organize the new Erabor exhibition. We had to make sure we were the first to see it at sunset!”
"Fuck..." Legolas' eyes widened as he looked at his watch again. "The museum will wake up soon. What floor is the new exhibition on?"
"On the second floor, next to the Ancient Egypt exhibit! We can’t let Galadriel talk to them first." Tauriel replied, letting out a soft laugh as she positioned herself behind the information desk in the middle of the museum. She placed her backpack on the swivel chair, took off her jacket and cap and hung them on the back of the chair, before fixing her hair. "The museum is going to be a disaster — it’s been a while since we’ve had a new exhibit. We have a total of three new sculptures.." Her eyes lit up at the thought of what was to come. The museum, quiet and peaceful during the day, always gained a special touch at dusk. Magic happened — literally.
Legolas adjusted the earpiece, listening to the soft hiss of the intercom before letting out a weary sigh. Leaning over the counter, he gazed down at his clipboard.
"'The last of Durin's line', the princes have the original weapons? Amazing..." Legolas murmured, surprised, as he read the documents on his clipboard. "'The King under the Mountain', I remember seeing this sculpture in a documentary, it's very realistic..."
"That explains why we spent almost two months on renovations..." Tauriel bit her lower lip, picking up her coffee cup and drinking.
"Don't even tell me, Faramir wouldn't stop complaining about the dirt in the Egypt section." Legolas looked at his watch and picked up his clipboard, starting to walk towards the elevator. "It's almost time."
"Well, you're the one who decided to get involved with an emperor," Tauriel replied, hanging the bunch of keys at her waist.
The man ignored the red-haired woman, simply rolling his eyes as he leaned against the elevator wall, nodding along to the classical music playing.
"Do you think it will be peaceful today?" Legolas asked, still focused on his drawing board, but without hiding a certain anxiety.
"Calm?" Tauriel raised an eyebrow, with a cynical smile. "With Galadriel, always around? And now with these new sculptures? I highly doubt it."
"But, King Aragorn assured me that he would keep Rex busy, with the help of Bard and Thranduil." said the woman.
"Do you really trust those two not to cause trouble?" Legolas asked, shrugging as he remembered how the little cowboy and the general of the Roman Empire always left a trail of chaos.
"As long as the toy car has a battery... Of course I trust them." Only Aragorn actually, she thought to herself.
The elevator doors opened with a soft clink, and Tauriel’s lips lifted in a small smile.
“Showtime,” she murmured to Legolas, her voice thick with anticipation.
The blond let out a deep sigh, letting his shoulders relax before casting a careful glance around the silent hallway. He gave his friend a small wave and walked ahead, his footsteps barely audible on the polished floor.
The museum's soft lighting cast long shadows on the walls, giving the room an even more solemn air at this time of night. Tauriel followed Legolas's gaze for a moment before turning her attention to their final destination: the large, dark doors that held the museum's newest exhibit.
Her smile widened a little as she began walking in that direction. It was always a special moment when new artifacts came to life for the first time. The newly arrived statues would soon awaken, and she would be there to guide them through their first contact with this new world.
Tauriel pushed the heavy doors open with both hands, feeling the cool wood beneath her fingers as they creaked open. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as she took the first step into the new exhibit. Strategically placed lighting cast shadows and glows across the artifacts, but it was the trio of sculptures in the center of the room that immediately caught her attention, the paintings and some artifacts going unnoticed.
There they were. The last of Durin's line.
In the center, Thorin Durin stood imposingly, his stern expression carved in impressive detail. His eyes held an almost intimidating seriousness, and the cloak fell over his shoulders with an impressive wealth of detail. Every strand of his black beard, every fold in his armor, everything seemed alive in a surreal way, the statue conveying the same imposingness that the true king would have had in life. Tauriel stopped before him, studying him with respect before moving to the left.
Prince Phillip. His gaze fell on the blond prince, and a sigh escaped him without realizing it. His long, traditionally braided hair shone in the light, and his braided mustache reinforced his noble bearing. There was something serene in his expression, as if, even in wax, Phillip carried a quiet joy, an unwavering loyalty.
Then, her eyes slid to the last statue.
Her breath hitched. Prince Killian.
The younger prince seemed to capture something beyond the simple art of sculpture. There was an intensity in his sculpted gaze, an energy that made her breath catch in her lungs for a moment. His features were strong, but there was a softness to them, a perfect balance between bravery and youth. The waves of his hair fell over his shoulders with stunning ease, pinned back slightly.
He was absolutely gorgeous.
His bow rested securely on his back, and his arrows were positioned perfectly in his quiver. The way the sculpture captured the tension in his muscles, the lightness in his posture, made him look as if he might move at any moment.
And he would.
Tauriel felt a current pass through the air. It was subtle at first, a barely perceptible vibration, but soon the dim glow of the lights flickered, and a low, almost imperceptible sound began to vibrate in the air. Rex. A soft crack, followed by another, louder one.
Her heart raced as the first spark of life appeared in Thorin's eyes. The statue was no longer a statue. His hands moved slowly, testing his own fingers, and a long sigh escaped his lips, as if he were waking from a deep sleep.
Beside him, Phillip blinked several times before letting out a muffled murmur. His twin blades now gleamed in the soft light of the museum, as if they had been forged for a battle that was about to begin.
Tauriel held her breath as the last of them finally moved.
Killian blinked slowly, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to figure out where he was. The gleam in his brown eyes began to focus, and then he took a deep breath, lifting his head. His hands flexed slightly before resting on the bow on his back, an automatic gesture of an archer accustomed to keeping his weapon close at hand.
And then he saw her.
Killian's eyes met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Tauriel felt heat rise to her skin, but she kept her posture firm. First impressions were always important. Then, finally, she broke the silence. “Welcome back.”
Thorin stepped forward, his expression dark and intense. He was taller than Tauriel had imagined, his imposing presence radiating a natural authority. His eyes, now bright and questioning, fixed her intently.
“Who are you?” His voice was firm, thick with suspicion. He looked around, his eyes scanning the room warily. “And where in Mahal’s name are we?”
Phillip and Killian exchanged a brief glance before turning their attention back to the woman. The older one seemed more attentive and analytical, while the younger one tilted his head slightly, his gaze curious but attentive.
Tauriel took a deep breath. She was used to this kind of reaction — it was always like this when new exhibits came to life for the first time. She took a deep breath before speaking, keeping her voice calm and controlled.
“I know this must be confusing for you, but I can explain. You are inside a museum.” She gestured around the immense hall. “This is an exhibition dedicated to the lineage of Durin, your sculptures were brought here as part of the collection to be preserved.”
The king frowned, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. Phillip, on the other hand, arched an eyebrow, absorbing the information with interest.
"Preserved? Are you saying we are just… memories of a time that has passed?"
Thorin, beside him, remained silent, his eyes scanning the surroundings, absorbing every detail.
Killian, on the other hand, tilted his head slightly. “But we’re alive,” he said, touching his own hand, feeling the skin that had once been nothing but wax. “Why?”
Tauriel allowed herself a small smile before answering, “Because of Faramir’s Tablet.”
The three men looked at each other, not recognizing the name. Thorin looked impatient.
"And what is this tablet thing?"
“An Egyptian artifact that is on display in the next wing,” Tauriel explained. “Every night, it emits an energy that allows the sculptures and figures in the museum to awaken until dawn. But when the sun rises, you return to your original state.”
Phillip let out a low whistle, impressed. “So, basically, we’re stuck in a cycle of life and death every night?”
"If you prefer to see it that way... yes."
Killian chuckled softly. “Well, it could be worse. At least we’re here, right?”
He smiled at her, and Tauriel felt a slight heat rise to her face, but she kept her composure. Thorin, however, remained serious, pondering everything. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke:
"And what happens now?"
Tauriel uncrossed her arms and stepped forward. “Now, I’ll guide you. I’ll explain the rules. And I’ll help you understand any questions you may have.”
The three of Durin's line continued to stare at her, absorbing her words. And deep down, Tauriel knew that this would be a very long night.
"By the way, my name is Tauriel, and I am the night guard."
“Fili Durin,” said the blonde prince.
“And Kili Durin,” said the younger one.
“At your service,” they said together and bowed.
Thorin just looked at her and nodded slightly.
The sound of Tauriel’s boots echoed across the museum’s shiny floor as she walked ahead of the trio, leading them through the lobby. With every step, she felt the watchful eyes of Prince Filí and the king on her and their surroundings, taking in every detail of the new reality they found themselves in. Killian, on the other hand, seemed more interested in his own discovery of the place, curiously touching the display cases as they passed and nodding at the sculptures they passed.
“So this museum… keeps warriors and kings as exhibits?” Filí asked, glancing around at the other sections.
“Something like that,” Tauriel replied, not elaborating too much. She didn’t want to overwhelm them with information right away.
Before she could continue, a shrill scream cut through the silence of the museum. Tauriel stopped abruptly, her eyes widening for a brief moment.
Thorin frowned, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.
"Was that a scream?" Filí asked, frowning.
“There were several screams,” Kili corrected, already instinctively reaching for his bow.
But unlike them, Tauriel just took a deep breath, wasting no time, she ran down the hallway, hearing the heavy footsteps of the three men behind her. When she turned the corner, she found exactly the kind of scene she feared.
In the middle of the hall, Dwalin — a heavily clothed Viking with striking tattoos— was shouting furiously at a small toy car, its engine roaring. Beside him, Gimli — a pirate in a wide hat and worn boots — was shouting with equal indignation.
Inside the cart sat two tiny figures: Thranduil, a miniature Roman general in gleaming silver armor and a red cape, and Bard, an equally small cowboy in a hat and leather coat, his legs casually crossed.
And of course, they shouted back loudly.
“Out of the way, you noisy ogres!” Thranduil demanded, grabbing the reins of an invisible horse.
"That's right! We're on a mission!" Bard reinforced, tipping his hat back.
"Mission my ass! You almost ran over my foot!" Gimli retorted, stamping his foot on the ground.
“So what? You have two, don’t you?” Thranduil snapped. “Your foot is worth nothing compared to the honor of a Roman general!” he retorted, his small voice full of arrogance.
"By Odin, I will crush this car with my bare hands!" Dwalin roared, raising his fists.
In the midst of the chaos, Bilbo, an archaeologist in beige clothes and a scarf around his neck, stood between the two groups, looking as if he wanted to intervene, but not brave enough to step into the line of fire.
Leaning against the far wall, Legolas watched everything with his arms crossed, shaking his head slowly in pure denial, as if he had already given up on sanity, his long hair was all messed up.
Tauriel took a deep breath before finally interjecting.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Immediately, everyone froze. Silence filled the hallway, broken only by the sound of the car creaking slightly as it slid forward an inch. Thranduil turned toward him with an arched eyebrow.
"Ah, finally, someone in authority. Tell these barbarians to get off the road."
“Road? It’s a corridor, you lunatic!” Gimli exclaimed.
Kilí, who was standing behind Tauriel, watched everything with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Okay,” she began, keeping her voice steady. “I’m only going to ask once: why exactly are two big warriors yelling at two who aren’t even big enough to fight?”
“They nearly ran me over!” Gimli pointed an accusing finger at Thranduil and Bard, still sitting in the cart. “And they didn’t apologize!”
"We have no time for excuses when we are on a mission of great importance!" Bard retorted, adjusting his leather coat as if he were a true gunslinger.
“Of great importance?” Dwalin snorted. “And what mission would that be?”
Thranduil crossed his legs and tilted his head, looking at them as if they were mere commoners in his path.
"That's none of your business."
"That's none of your business!" Gimli repeated mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Just see!"
Bilbo, who had been watching until then, finally found the courage to speak. "Well... maybe they have a good reason?"
"Thank you, archaeologist." Bard smiled, raising his hands.
"At least someone here has some common sense."
"Don't pull my leg!" Bilbo quickly retorted.
Meanwhile, Legolas remained leaning against the wall, watching everything with boredom. Tauriel gave him a sharp look.
"And you? Why didn't you do anything to stop it?"
Legolas shrugged. "I wanted to see where this would go."
Tauriel let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Everyone, stop. Now.”
Her authoritative tone silenced the group again.
“Thranduil, Bard, get off that cart. Now.”
“No.”
Tauriel closed her eyes and counted to three before opening them again.
"Thranduil…"
The miniature Roman general snorted dramatically before finally standing up, followed by Bard, who jumped out of the cart with a quick leap.
"Thank you. Now, Dwalin and Gimli, no one is to smash anything, understood?" The two grumbled, but nodded.
"I liked them!" Kilí said, a big smile on his face as he watched the scene.
"Does this… happen often?" Filí asked, looking from Tauriel to Legolas.
Thorin just ran a hand over his face, as if he was already tired of the situation before he even fully understood it.
Legolas shrugged. "You get used to it. Welcome to the night shift..."