So Comes Snow After Fire

15.i Never Say Me Farewell

Tauriel had been eagerly awaiting tonight's meeting with Kíli since the slightly disgruntled raven had delivered the scrap of parchment with his message two mornings ago. Nearly three full sennights had passed since she had last met privately with him, during which time Tauriel had discovered how truly she could hunger for the sight and sound and feel of him. Indeed, she had needed to exercise a never-before-required discipline to keep her mind focused on the patrol reports today, as the sound of Kíli's voice or the shape of his smile had threatened to be more present to her mind than the words and features of the scouts standing right before her. Surely, she promised herself, he would no longer haunt her once she had seen him again.

When her duties had mercifully ended, she had bathed and then chosen a favorite gown, one softer and more feminine than the captain's uniform she usually wore. After some thought, she had left the braids out of her hair. Kíli, she knew, admired those copper waves which shone as bright as the precious metals his people loved. Tauriel had felt a little self-conscious at first, knowing she dressed for him. She had never before given so much thought to how someone else would view her. But why should she not care now? She loved Kíli, and would readily give far more than a loosened braid or a pretty dress to see him happy.

She had reached Ravenhill before him, and so she waited on an empty rampart, watching fireflies winking in the darkening mountain vale below. There seemed more of the bright little insects this summer than the last, a sure sign that Erebor and the surrounding lands were steadily coming back to life after the dragon's baleful influence had been lifted. The thought made her glad and gave her hope for the renewed life of the people of the mountain, as well: the men of Dale, the dwarves of Erebor, and still discovering her role among them both, herself.

While her place was not yet certain, Tauriel thought she must surely be closer to winning the dwarf king's approval, as well. Kíli had been courting her for a year now, and in that time, she had shown herself a trustworthy ally who upheld Kíli's own responsibilities as a guardian of Erebor. So long as none of the visiting council members pressed for a political marriage for the younger prince, Tauriel did not see what objection Thorin could make to their match now. And yet— She would feel more at ease once this whole council was concluded, for the longer they stayed, the more keenly she felt how little control she truly had over that part of Kíli's life to which she was not yet privy.

At the sound of footsteps on the stone behind her, she turned to find the dwarf prince arrived at last.

Kíli's expression was tight and weary, and though his gaze brightened somewhat as she met his eye, she felt her familiar thrill of pleasure falter at the lack of answering joy in his own face.

"Kíli?"

He crossed the space between them and put his arms around her waist. "It's all gone wrong. And it's my fault." Kíli pulled her against him, leaning into her as if his trouble might be resolved if he could simply melt into her somehow.

"Kíli," Tauriel murmured again, instinctively closing her arms about him. He was afraid; she could sense that much. And as she held him, she, too, felt a sudden, inexplicable premonition: I am losing him.

Kíli said nothing for a long while, but simply clung to her, and Tauriel tucked her face against the top of his head. He smelled of cool stone and pipe smoke, both comforting and out of place amongst the green, herbal fragrance of the warm evening air.

At last, he shifted in her arms. "I love you," he said somewhat desperately, looking up at her without lifting his head from her breast.

"And I love you, hadhod nín," Tauriel told him. "But what—?" She stopped herself from saying What have you done? She did not believe it could be his fault, despite what he seemed to think.