If I Had You

Chapter II

Tauriel POV

I was beginning to question Thranduil's authority. At least, consciously. I feel as if since my first moment as Captain of the Guard I'd been subconsciously rebelling, disgusted by his bias and quiet malice. But I'd never really accepted my distaste towards him. Hating your king wasn't exactly something many appreciated, especially when you worked directly under his thumb. I think I'd rebelled because I'd always sensed some type of animus attitude with him. I guess it just took such a dubious order to consciously accept that it was there.

This quest made no sense. We were three days out on our journey and had yet to encounter any intelligent living creature other than the occasional human farmers. Why send such a plethora of elves to rid a countryside of orcs when there were none to begin with? Maybe I was being paranoid. Perhaps we'd encounter the real danger further along with the quest. But surely we'd see some sign of danger. Something, anything, that might tip us off towards the supposed danger we had. And yet there was nothing.

I really needed to get my mind off of this.

Sighing, I look to the sky for some comfort. I squint as the last dying rays of sunlight catches my eye. The moving up and down of my stead didn't help with the vexatious light. I glance back, wanting to avoid the annoyance.

I'm met with the sight of my company. While I almost despised Thranduil, I had to give credit where due, and he could definitely organize some strong troops. My second in command was a slender, youthful elf named Morndir who always wore a cross look on his face. He rode by my side and wore a dark blue tunic complete with a set of bow and arrows. Being honest, he was a bit incompetent with it. Behind him was a elleth named Glindir. She was small for an elf, and her chattiness contrasted with Morndir's almost constant silence. She was good with a dagger. And behind her were a couple dozen burly and emotionless looking elves. I didn't know their names, and their lack of emotions would seem to keep it that way.

I had never liked that about my kin. We were never very emotional. Even when the entirety of Mirkwood was celebrating, the feeling paled in comparison to a human, dwarf, or even orc's average day. I used to never let it bother me, but after he had left, the lack of joy left me feeling empty. Perhaps that was why I had become more of a shell than a person. Maybe that's why I had bothered to remember Glindir. Sure, she was a bit immature and inexperienced, but at least she had a personality.

I look back towards the sunlight, and try to keep my glance there, but the light is too overbearing for my eyes. The literal years I'd spent inside Mirkwoods walls had left me ill at ease with so much sunlight. I give up, and turn my head back towards my apathetic companions. Glindir is bantering on about something concerning horses, and Morndir nods occasionally, but I can tell he's somewhere else. I snort at the situation. My eyes drift towards the rest of my men. Certainly they looked like they could hold their own against orcs, but my visuals didn't always hold truth. Simply put, looks could be very deceiving. Most of my men had swords, and besides Morndir, we had access to only one other archer.

The other archer made me squirm whenever I think of him. He'd joined last minute, at the apparent request of Thranduil. The king of Mirkwood seemed to have a sudden interest in making sure I had an archer in my company, for some unknown reason...

It was probably a good idea though. We couldn't always afford to use hand-to-hand combat, sometimes orcs needed to be dealt with from far off. But sending a single archer? Against what was built up to be so many orcs? True, by the looks of some practice shots I'd observed earlier, he was good. Almost perfect, in fact. But also frighteningly familiar. It wasn't just his skills that stuck with my memory. His face, and even his very presence reminded me of something. I couldn't put my finger on it, and I hadn't really gotten a good look at his face. But the few glimpses I'd gotten of him was enough for me to taste some memory, and a bitter-sweet one at that.