So Comes Snow After Fire

6.i The Swallow Skims Without a Thought

Tauriel had been summoned by her king so soon after her return to the Greenwood that she had barely had time to change her clothes before she'd been shown to the royal apartments. Catching up the first dress that came to hand, she had realized only once it was on that it had no pockets, and thus she had settled for tucking Kíli's runestone in her bodice.

She could feel it now, pressed against her heart with each nervous breath as she perched awkwardly on the edge of a sofa and watched Thranduil bending over the samovar on the table. This was not one of the formal receiving rooms, she noted, nor was her king dressed in his robes of state. They were in one of his private chambers and so she must relax, yet the realization made it almost impossible to do so.

Thranduil turned to her and handed her a cup of something warm—spiced mead, she soon discovered, by the smell.

"Thank you," she breathed, taking it from him.

The elvenking took his own cup and sat in the chair opposite her.

"I am relieved to see you well," he said. His voice and face were calm, but Tauriel thought there was an faint hesitancy to his movements that she had never noticed in him before.

"Yes, thank you, I am," she said haltingly. What was she supposed to say? She sipped at the mead just to fill the empty space, and her cup clattered as she set it back in the saucer.

Her king gave her a wistful smile. "The observation shames me," he said. "I have no right to ask after your wellbeing when you had to look to our erstwhile enemies for the kindness you should have received from your own people."

He was apologizing to her, and she had no idea how to respond, so she merely stared at him. Yet he did not seem to expect an answer and soon went on, "When you said there was no love in me—"

"My lord, forgive me!" Tauriel cried inadvertently. "That was hastily spoken!"

Thranduil shook his head lightly. "It was true. I had shut away love so that it might not weaken me, as I thought. And yet I lost my son and forced you to choose between your loyalty and your heart."

He fell silent, his eyes on something Tauriel could not see. A shadow had fallen over his face, the memory of old wounds unhealed that marred his perfect, distant beauty. Yet Tauriel did not find him repulsive; she knew he allowed her closer than he ever had before, and her heart moved for him in a sudden swell of loyal desire. Had he ever let his son see him like this?

"My lord, you must nonetheless let me apologize," she said slowly, "for I was wrong about you." She had been hating him all this time for what he had said when he denied her feelings for Kíli.

His eyes came back to her, and he nodded. "You might have spent the winter here, but that the snows reached you before my messenger could. The distress I felt imagining you exposed to the snowstorm was no more than I deserved, but thankfully, Thalion returned from Dale with the news you had been welcomed to Erebor by the king himself."

Tauriel blushed. Everyone seemed to think she was in better grace with the mountain king than she truly was.

"It was Kíli's doing," she admitted.

"You've readily won the prince's approval," he observed.

"He has a noble spirit and a generous heart." The words sounded too dispassionate to her ears, but was she to say? He was flirting with me in your dungeons, sir. Hardly.

"You cured him of a poisoned wound, did you not?" Thranduil asked, suddenly intent.

Tauriel had to force herself to hold the king's gaze; she would have felt much safer staring at the carpet, which could not have read the guilt in her eyes. "I did," she said steadily. "He would have died, if I had not... His companions did not have the skill to heal him!" Despite her newfound favor, she was still afraid to admit before her king that she had abandoned her post after a young dwarf—her prisoner—had smiled at her.

Thranduil seemed to recognize her embarrassment, for his expression softened. "I did not call you back to fault your compassion," he said kindly. "Your saving him was well done, and may yet bring good."

She peered at him, trying to guess what he meant by his last comment.

"I would offer your old position back if I thought you would take it," he said, ignoring her confusion.

"I—" Tauriel began before realizing he had anticipated her answer. She flushed again. "You are right; I cannot pretend nothing has changed. And I promised someone I would stay near." Of course, Thranduil knew who she meant, but she still felt too self-conscious to be more explicit about her attachment; she had hardly named her feelings to Kíli himself.

Thranduil nodded. "Tauriel, I have lost many good lieutenants in this recent battle." She knew he included his son in that assessment. "I would not see you gone, too. I think I might find a place for you that would suit your desires as well as mine."

"Oh?" A moment later, afraid to sound entirely rude, she hastily added, "Your majesty."

Thranduil appeared faintly amused. "We need Erebor our ally, not our enemy. The Necromancer is displaced, but not defeated, and I will no longer pretend we can face the world's evils alone. And so, though you and I might outlive this feud, I think it better we try to heal it, and now, if we can. It began in the dwarf king's lifetime; let it end then, too. Though we are not limited by a mortal span, the dwarves' memory of us is surely shaped by the measure of their lives. Better they recall that our quarrel began and ended in one generation."

Tauriel nodded, once more sharply aware that her own interests depended on a resolution that was swift, by her people's count of time. How old was Kíli? she suddenly wondered. She had no idea how long dwarves lived, but she wanted to share as much of that time with him as she could.

Thranduil clearly waited for her to say something, so she finally returned, "I agree. An alliance would be to their advantage, as well." She raised her cup to her lips once more, hoping to hide the discomfort she felt.

The king's face relaxed into a satisfied expression. "With your connection to the prince, you seem in the ideal place to work towards an alliance."

Tauriel nearly choked on her mead. As she spluttered, Thranduil regarded her with one brow barely raised.

"I am not sure I will be welcome in Erebor at present," she confessed when she could breathe again.

Thranduil remained silent, but the alarmed look he gave her said clearly enough, Valar, what have you done now?

Tauriel felt her face burning. "I...may have been somewhat too forward in expressing my affection for the prince," she managed. "The king does not approve of our... Um."

A hint of a smile flickered over Thranduil's features. "Tauriel, you have been a perfectly capable officer till now. If you are so readily flustered, I can only attribute it to your having discovered an area of inexperience."

He was making a jest; her king was making a jest about how she was in love and completely confused by it. She swallowed the last of her mead, which by now was making her glow as much as her embarrassment was.

"My lord, I will do my best to win Thorin's friendship," she answered carefully, setting her empty cup aside.

"I do not doubt it." He rose, and she did the same. "We can talk more of this later. You must wish to rest," he said, his tone kind.

"Thank you," Tauriel returned. She gave him a shallow curtsey and somehow resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and stare at him one last time as she left the room.