Work Text
I turn my head sharply in the direction of the forest at the sound of a snapping twig, knocking an arrow and drawing it back on my bowstring. I hold it up toward the woods, the feathered end of the arrow brushing my cheek as I scan my surroundings. A little gray rabbit with drooping ears sits in the brush at the edge of the woods, no doubt the culprit. I lower the bow, relief flooding through me. I’ve been uneasy since the battle at Erebor. It’s been nearly three months, but I can’t seem to shake the images from my mind. It was a great carnage, with many lives lost and much blood shed. My mind always wanders back to this. I push the thoughts away before they go too far. Before I start thinking about what I lost in that battle. Keeping the arrow fitted to the string of my bow, I start toward the woods. The rabbit scurries away at my approach, and I don’t bother going after it. I could have shot it if I’d wanted to, but I’m on the hunt for bigger game. It’s strange being on my own. No one to watch my back, no home to return to after hunts. I didn’t think I’d miss it, but now I’m beginning to. I miss the food, the shelter, the other elves. The only thing I’ve gained from my banishment is freedom. Perhaps I would be allowed back, if I returned to Thranduil and pleaded for his trust once more. To be completely truthful, though, I’m not sure I want it. I don’t respect the Silvian king, not as I did before. Why would I ask for the trust of someone who does not have mine? The Ivory Forest isn’t many leagues from Erebor, so this is where I’ve decided to make my home. I’m not sure what I’ll do after I hunt and build a shelter, because these are only temporary things. As an immortal, I know I should be considering the bigger picture. I’ve never been here until now; only in maps have I seen the Ivory woods. I never thought of journeying here, but I never had reason to. As an elf without a tribe, I have a lot more options now. In the meantime, I will hunt and then find shelter. After that, I’ll just see where the wind takes me. Perhaps I’ll explore Middle Earth in its entirety, as I was unable to do so before. I keep my footsteps light as I tread down an old path, listening closely to the faint sounds of the forest around me. The sporadic call of a day owl fills the near-silence, sharp and clear. Its comrade returns the cry a few moments later, and soon a whole chorus of birds have taken up a song. I let the music of the forest calm me as I walk, and soon I’m lost in the beauty of the woods. The trees are tall and slender, their ivory white branches curled in strange ways as they reach into the air. Most of them are bare; the only leaves in sight are underfoot. Winter has seized the land, but not in a harsh manner. Snow hasn’t fallen very often, but then, we’re only a few months into winter. I expect it will grow more bitter as the season progresses, the land more bleak and the air more icy. A thin blanket of frost has spread across the floor among the fallen leaves, making the forest look even more like its name suggests. I bet it’s majestic in mid-winter, a white wonderland with icicles hanging from the white limbs of the ivory trees and the white floor of the forest gleaming. The low grunt of a male elk sends me sprinting to the nearest tree and pressing my back against its trunk. I peak out from behind it after a moment, searching for the animal. A movement catches my eye but it’s fleeting, and I’m left wondering if I only imagined it. A tall, grand elk with a silvery coat materializes from a cluster of trees, its rack magnificent and full. It approaches slowly, lowering its head periodically in its search for fresh grass. I pull back an arrow and aim the bow carefully, not wanted to startle the animal with any rash movements. I have to hold my breath to steady my weapon, lock my target… I’m about to release it. If the sound had come a moment later, I would have. The deep blast of a horn rings out through the air, and I back up against the tree once more. I hope that the visitors will pass, but I’m fooling myself. I recognize that horn; the sound is that of an elven hunt horn. This means that this forest is occupied by another tribe after all, which is bad news for me. The elk is staring in the direction of the noise, but by the way it’s lazily munching a mouthful of grass, it seems unfazed. It lowers its head to the ground again, a picture of complete calm, when the arrow whizzes into its side. The elk squeals in surprise before stumbling forward, trying to put distance between itself and its pursuers. It doesn’t get far before the second arrow comes, and by then it can’t continue. The weak animal spends its last heartbeats lowering itself to the ground, and then lies completely still. So often I’ve seen death. The last breath, the last movement. I’ve watched my prey’s eyes glaze over, watched their features go cold and rigid. Since the battle, it’s hard to look at it the same. Even watching prey die is like living through it again. While the elves’ attention are on the elk, I inch from tree to tree until I’m out of sight. Perhaps they would help me. Perhaps I could join them. But as I’ve had only a brief taste of freedom, I’m not sure I’m ready to let it go. I leave the Ivory forest and start toward the Lonely Mountain, where I can seek refuge until I’ve set a new destination for my home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The great door of Erebor has been rebuilt, having been destroyed during the battle. I take a deep breath before taking hold of the large metal knocker and pounding it against the door. I wait for a few minutes before trying again, and am greeted with nothing but silence. I’m prepared to turn around and leave, to find somewhere else to take refuge for the next few days, when the great doors shift and start to open. An old dwarf with a white beard stands just inside, his hands clasped together and his expression friendly. “How can I help you?” I never thought I’d come to dwarves for aid, but a lot has changed, including my thoughts on the race. Ever since... I swallow as the unwanted memories flood into my mind. Don’t think about that now, I scold myself. I take a deep breath. “My name is Tauriel. You probably wouldn’t remember me… I was one of the elves from Mirkwood who… who captured you and your company. I fought alongside you in the battle,” I add, feeling silly for mentioning Mirkwood. The dwarf watches me patiently, not angry or confused, but calm and inviting. “Well, I was wondering if I might, perhaps, stay here in Erebor for a while. It would only be a couple of days, just while I sort things out. You see, I was banished by Thranduil, and now I have no where to go. I just need somewhere safe to stay while I decide what to do next.” The more I say the more I feel like this is a bad idea. The dwarf thinks for a moment. “If you’d come inside, I’d like to discuss this with the council.” “Oh, you’re probably busy,” I say quickly, “I’m sorry to bother you.” “No, no,” the dwarf chuckles. He waves me inside. “Come on, lassie. I don’t like turning down those in need.” “Thank you,” I reply, following him through the big metal doors. Green and gold pillars stand around the edges of the room, reaching up and joining a high, arching ceiling. The floor is long and wide, and seems to be made of pure gold. “I believe I forgot to introduce myself,” the dwarf says, looking over at me apologetically. “My name is Balin. I’m the head council member, but I’m not in charge… so I can’t be sure that you’ll be allowed to stay. I’ll try, though.” “Who’s in charge?” I ask, surprised. I’d never really considered who would have taken control of Erebor after King Thorin’s death, but it would have made sense to have been an old, wise dwarf like Balin. “Dáin, Thorin’s cousin,” Balin says solemnly, and I can’t tell if the sobriety is because of the reference to his dead king, or towards the new one. “Is he a good king?” My curiosity often gets the best of me. Balin sighs. “He’s a good fighter. But king...” He looks at me, his eyes doleful. “Well, Thorin was a great one.” “I’m sorry about Thorin,” I say quietly. “Truly. He... he died honorably.” My eyes fall to my feet. “As did his nephews.” We’ve reached a stone door, which Balin pushes open. “You can wait in here so no one bothers you. I’m going to go see the king and discuss this with him.” “I don’t want to be a burden.” Balin smiles and pats me on the shoulder, which is nearly a foot above his head. “You aren’t, lassie. Don’t you worry.” He turns and leaves, so I enter the room to explore. It's mostly empty, with some locked chests sitting high on shelves and a small table. I'm still contemplating what the room could be for when Balin returns, his expression blank. “Dáin wants to speak with you.”