painless wounds ;; the hobbit

dale ;;

Cyrille walked with the people of Laketown, now homeless, joined by Tauriel, Legolas, and three dwarves. Tilda and Sigrid had rejoined their father, Bard, with his newfound title, the Bowman.

They were trekking towards Dale, an abandoned kingdom scorched by the fires of Smaug, now dead. The people of Laketown would get their share of the treasure in the mountain (where the dwarves were no doubt celebrating), to rebuild the town.

The Master was nowhere in sight. He had probably died. Serves him right, thought Cyrille.

After a few days, they reached Dale and began to scrounge for resources. Word had spread that Bard was the one who shot down Smaug, and he was elected the new master. He was a good man. Cyrille knew Laketown was in good hands. 

She stared up at the Lonely Mountain which loomed above the city, now the kingdom of Erebor. The dwarves would flourish once more. 

Cyrille was handing Kili some blankets when she was approached by an elven messenger, no doubt sent by King Thranduil himself. She noticed Legolas start walking in her direction, gesturing for Tauriel to come as well. 

"Prince Legolas, Lady Cirdanious, you are to return to Mirkwood immediately, by order of King Thranduil Oropherion." the messenger said from atop his horse.

Legolas obliged. "C'mon, Tauriel, Cyrille. We must leave now."

The messenger held out a hand, signalling for him to stop. "Not the elleth. Tauriel is banished."

Cyrille cursed herself. Of course there would be consequences. She shouldn't have brought Tauriel with her to Laketown. But why wasn't she banished? Cyrille was the one who left. They both left without consent. They both went against orders of the King. Then why only Tauriel?

"I told her to leave with me." Cyrille said, voice quickening. "If she is banished from the Elvenking's Halls, then so am I." She didn't feel sad, or regret for her decision at all. Cyrille still had something else she needed to do.

"Tell my father that if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me." Legolas said, jaw clenching. 

The messenger looked like he was about to explode. Or cry. Or laugh. They were like a bunch of teenagers, rebelling against the authority, because of some petty reason such as love. "Very well." he managed to voice, and then galloped away. 

Tauriel turned to them. "Why did you go against your father? The King? You must follow him."

"He may control me, but he does not control my heart." Legolas said. Cyrille knew what he meant. She also knew that Taurile didn't feel the same way. The elleth was head over heels in love with the handsome dwarf. Cyrille noticed how she looked at Kili, and how Legolas looked at Tauriel. It was a wicked love triangle, and they were all cursed. Legolas, because Tauriel didn't love him back. Tauriel, because Kili is a dwarf, and is destined to die. And Kili, because Dis would never let him pledge himself to an elf.

After they set up camp, they stayed there for a few days. One of those days, Cyrille woke up in her tent to stomping. She brushed her frayed hair out of her eyes, opening her mouth wide to relieve the numbness in her cheeks. She threw open a flap, and saw hundreds of elven guards, decked in gold, walking in synch through the narrow roads of Dale.

The Elvenking had come, for his share of the treasure. 

Cyrille knew that soon every kingdom would hear about the death of Smaug and the retrieval of Erebor, and she also knew that Men, Dwarves and other creatures from all over Middle-Earth would come and try to take the mountain. The Orcs would come, the hideous Goblin King would come. All of them would come for the treasure, and people would die.

Cyrille walked outside, armed with her weapons. She adjusted her tunic, looking for Legolas and Tauriel. The roads were stuffed with elven guards, some humans peeking out their tents in confusion. She noticed Bard riding his horse, trying to push his way between the guards.

Cyrille's eyesight snaked along the path, looking for the front of the line of shiny bowmen. At the very front was Thranduil, whom Bard was trying to get to.

And Tauriel. Tauriel had a bow pointed at him, a fierce look on her face. This was not going to end well, unless Cyrille stopped her. She rushed towards the pair, Thranduil on his great Elk and Tauriel, her best friend, a redheaded woodland elf.

"That  love is not real. What you feel for that dwarf isn't real. Are you ready to die for it?" That was what Cyrille heard when she managed to get to them. Tauriel's bow lay broken on the ground, and Thranduil had his sword pointed at the throat. She knew he would not hesitate to thrust it forward.

Cyrille drew her sword and rested it upon the King's blade. "If you kill her, you will have to kill me as well." she said. Thranduil looked at her in shock. Cyrille knew he couldn't kill her. The King slowly lowered his blade, glowering.

"There is no love in you. None." Cyrille whispered. Exactly what Tauriel had said. Somehow Legolas was behind her, and shot his father a cold look before following the two elleths. He placed his hand on Tauriel's shoulder. "I'll go with you." he said. "Cyrille, let's go."

Cyrille shook her head. "I'm not going." she said. "I'll stay here. I need to see the dwarves, and Bilbo." her voice broke at the last word.

Legolas nodded sadly. He understood. "Farewell, dear friend. May we see you soon, should we survive." Then they were gone.

___

There is no love in you. None.

That sentence echoed in Thranduil's heart, making it shrivel and blacken more that it already was. He had loved something, a long time ago. He loved it so much it is not to be mentioned, not to spoken of.

Cyrille's words had made the wound in his heart grow wider, just as he had believed it was closing, she opened it up again, spilling more hate and anger and lies out of him. Tauriel had said it first, yes. But her word meant nothing. Except, Cyrille was like his very own child. He had already lost Legolas to distance, and he couldn't lose her too. 

Was that really how everyone saw him? Cold, heartless, unfeeling? 

Yes.

That was how they saw him, because he was.