The Dark (Tauriel)

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Tilda sits on a turret as I shoot arrows at a dummy.

"Will you teach me how?" Tilda asks clutching her beloved doll to her little chest. I knock another arrow into place.

"Teach you how to what?" I ask sending the arrow through the dummy's heart. I turn back to Tilda curious.

"How to shoot." Tilda is so small and lithe, she could be great like her father or ... Him. I tilt my head pretending to consider.

"Maybe, but you are still so young." I respond.

"But I want to help the next time somebody tries to hurt us!" She has no idea.

It is dark, Thranduil peers down at me and I stare up at him.

"Something's coming Tauriel, you must go and hide." Thranduil's voice is frantic as he places his hands on my frail 170 year old shoulders. His face, per norm lacks the emotion required to convey ones thoughts.

"But Thranduil!" I protest, "I want to help!" Thranduil shakes his head and pushes my into the arms of  189 year old Legolas.

"Come Tauriel, we must go!" He calls pulling me back into the thick of elders and younglings.

I will help next time. 

Those were my exact thoughts, my ada died in that battle and I feel as though I could have prevented it. For it was his death that caused my mother's suicide.

"Your time will come." I reply, Knocking another arrow "And I will be there... I  promise"


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