So Comes Snow After Fire

12.iv

It felt strange, being back in the Greenwood and yet not knowing, instinctively, the state of every grove and hollow, every tree and branch and leaf. When Tauriel had been captain, the whole woodland realm might have been part of her, for all that she was readily aware of the passage of native beasts, the deer and squirrels and spiders, or invaders—wolves, orcs, and once, dwarves. Returning this spring after a second winter away was like greeting an old friend, still fond but made unfamiliar by time and distance. Odd that so little of both could make her feel that way.

And so, after the alliance talks had been concluded between Thranduil and Kíli, she had found her way down to the dining hall, where she had so often relaxed after a day's patrol, to find other old friends who might tell her the news of the wood.

"And so, with our efforts and this past winter's snows, the spiders' numbers have finally been dwindling," Feron said, concluding the account told over wine and cold game pie.

"Thank the Valar. I hated them," added Morwen beside him with a shake of her raven head. "I could never face them as you do." A steward in Thranduil's palace, Morwen's own talents were far more domestic than martial.

Tauriel smiled softly. "I could say the same of an inventory of the king's linens and larder."

Morwen smiled then, too. While she had never shared Tauriel's fierce need to protect with body and blade, the two women had remained friends since they had found one another half a dozen centuries ago when they had been two of the few youths in Thranduil's house.

"And how are the patrols round Erebor? Not as lonely as the name would suggest, I understand," Morwen asked in turn.

"They go well. We've seen a few wolves, and once even a warg, but I think any remaining forces from Gundabad are as loathe to see us as we are them," Tauriel answered, ignoring Morwen's last teasing statement. For all that Morwen was, in many ways, her closest friend, she had not understood why Tauriel would leave everything behind for an outsider and a mortal. Since her initial return to the Greenwood, Tauriel had felt her choice as a light barrier between herself and Morwen. It was not a hostile one, perhaps, but a barrier nonetheless, and because of it, Tauriel felt uncomfortable talking about her connection to Kíli. Acknowledging all he meant to herself had been difficult enough; telling another, who could not understand her attraction, was exposing an intimate, unguarded part of her heart, and Tauriel instinctively shied from doing so.

"I trust the new master of Dale knows how lucky they all are to have you," Feron noted fondly. "They are used to having a lake be their guard and watch, and could ask no-one better to teach them to protect a realm."

Tauriel smiled at his praise. "They know they are lucky indeed, and for far more than just my help. I was there, when fire rained down out of the night; no-one who remembers that can believe himself anything but blessed to find a chance for new life and hope."

Morwen clearly perked at another opening for her hinted topic, a reaction that Feron seemed to have noticed as well, for he rose from the table. "I hope to see you again before your visit ends. Let me know if you want that bow," he said, pressing her shoulder in a paternal farewell.

Once they were alone, Morwen went on, "I saw the prince with the dwarven envoy when you arrived. He has a comely bearing: self-possessed but not proud."

Tauriel nodded. Morwen had not been among the welcoming party, but then Tauriel's attention had been too taken with introductions for Kíli and his companions, a second ambassador and a scribe, to search all the faces of those watching from a distance.

"Truly, he is the handsomest of his kin," Morwen added. This was not the same as calling him handsome for himself, but Tauriel sensed Morwen was offering the best praise she could.

Tauriel willed herself to overcome her reticence to say, "Kíli is courting me according to the customs of his people."

"So swiftly! But I suppose you cannot wait—" Morwen's face went still as she realized her insensitivity. After a moment, she said tentatively, "I'm sure his customs must be so different from ours."

"They are," Tauriel agreed, hoping Morwen would see she had not taken offense. She could not speak, even to her friend, of the bittersweet intensity that Kíli's mortality lent to her love for him. "Oh, Morwen, he has lavished me with gifts befitting a queen. And yet he tells me it is custom for even the lowest dwarf to do so."

Morwen giggled. "Tauriel, he is a prince with a mountain full of gold." Her wondering smile clearly indicated that Kíli still seemed a figure from a fantastic tale to her.

"And yet sometimes I wish he had neither mountain nor gold," Tauriel confessed, finding it easy to be forthright on this, at least. "His rank, I think, is all that could truly prevent his choosing me. Oh, he does not care that I am an outsider and an elf. But if he were not a prince, no one else would care, either."

"Do many oppose you?"

"His family would accept us, I believe, so long as the match does not hinder the respect of his people. And that we are still proving."

"Oh, Tauriel." Morwen took her hand, and Tauriel knew then that she had her friend's truest sympathy and understanding on this point. "If you are meant to be with him, I don't suppose they can stop you."

Tauriel pressed her friend's hand in return. "Thank you," she whispered.