So Comes Snow After Fire

4.iii

Kíli met Tauriel at the postern gate at dawn, as he had promised. Even in the dim torchlight, his face looked haggard, as if he had not slept much, and she felt a fresh stab of guilt at the trouble she had placed him in.

Before she could greet him, he said simply, "I can't stand before Thorin as subject or kin now." She saw the pack on his shoulder then and knew, with a shock of unhappiness, that he was not here to bid her farewell. He was leaving with her.

"Kíli, I—" she began, but there were no words for the tangle of sympathy and regret in her chest.

"Don't worry," he said with an attempt at an unconcerned shrug, but Tauriel saw the wistful glance he cast back over the carven halls before he stepped after her into the pale dawn.

A thick white mist filled the valley, blanking out everything but half a hundred yards of barren road before them. The emptiness felt oppressive to Tauriel, mirroring as it did the bleakness of her own thoughts.

She shortened her stride so that Kíli might keep pace beside her, yet she felt too guilty to look at him, and so they hardly spoke as they hiked towards Dale. Kíli did not say exactly what had passed between himself and his uncle last night, but Tauriel gathered, from his few terse remarks, that he felt he had damaged his connection to Thorin beyond repair. And truly, she did not have the heart to press him for more details.

It was her fault. She knew they risked disapproval and denial, having incurred it already from her own king. She should have been more careful, should not have let Kíli favor her so openly. She had thought Thorin might come to accept her for Kíli's sake, and yet now she had come between Kíli and his uncle and destroyed all chance for the dwarf king to see her as anyone other than the elf who had stolen his nephew.

Still, she admitted with a double flash of guilt, she could not regret her actions for themselves. She certainly did not regret having kissed Kíli. With that kiss, she had revealed that he drew her, body as well as soul. That was the question he had been asking her since he had first met her: could she be happy with him just as he was, though he was so different from her in every way? She was still half afraid to put her desire for him into words, but she had wanted to answer him.

And yet in doing so, she had undone his life, just as she had already undone her own.

She should not have placed their own happiness before his duty. She should have waited till they could love more openly, or at least more safely. She should have known better. The thought made her sick at heart, and she could not bear to meet Kíli's face, even when he finally did turn to her and catch her hand.

"Tauriel, are you angry with me?" he asked, tugging her to a halt beside him.

"Kíli! How could I be?" she asked, surprised. Looking down to him at last, she saw the anxious tension in his brow. "No," she continued softly. "I am angry at myself."

He pressed her hand. "You're not responsible for Thorin!"

"No, but I do feel responsible for you."

Kíli sighed. "I know." He glanced down at their linked hands, and after a moment, looked back up to her face, his eyes still troubled. "I can't come with you."

Tauriel felt the tightness in her chest unexpectedly ease. Kíli seemed to notice the change in her as well, for his expression shifted to become somewhat quizzical.

"I am relieved to hear it," she explained. "We cannot both be exiles."

He gave a weak half-smile. "I just— I can't do this because I'm angry." After a few slow breaths he went on. "I could leave because I chose you. I could leave because Thorin is wrong and because my birthright doesn't matter more than the people I love. Those things are all true. But... Right now, more than anything, I'm just—" He shrugged, and Tauriel thought he almost seemed ashamed. "Mad."

Tauriel knelt and put her arms round his shoulders.

"I was afraid you would lose everything for me," she whispered. "How would I forgive myself if you had?"

Kíli settled his arms around her waist and leaned gently against her.

"Tauriel, I want to deserve you," he said. "But I feel that I've done everything wrong."

She released him. "You have not," she said, brushing his hair back from his eyes. "Go home. Mend things with your uncle. Welcome your mother. We will find our time."

He nodded. "Thank you," he breathed.

Tauriel kissed him.

"I shall miss you," she said.

"As I will you." Kíli looped his fingers in a strand of her hair so that she could not move away. "Don't go yet." He kissed her once more, lightly, not as he had done last night. Then slowly, reluctantly, he loosened his hold on her hair.

"Wait!" she protested, and he obeyed, meeting her glance with curious eyes.

Tauriel drew the short knife she kept in her boot and, placing her fingers over his, cut the lock of hair free. Kíli smiled as he looked down at the coppery strands in his hand. Then he folded them safely into his handkerchief, which he tucked back into his pocket.

"I don't know when I will be able to meet you again, but I promise to come as soon as I can," Kíli said.

Tauriel nodded. "I will wait for you."

He put his hands on her waist and lifted her to her feet once more. "Look, we're almost there," he said, nodding towards the buildings of Dale, finally visible now that the mist had lifted. "I had better see you into the city before the watch wonders why an elf and a dwarf tarry so long outside the walls."

She gave him a rueful smile before following. "I suppose we have already caused enough scandal for one day."