So Comes Snow After Fire

24.i The Snow Aye Melts the Soonest, Lass

Tauriel and Kíli had been invited to dine with the Elvenking upon their arrival at the woodland fortress. Honored as she was, Tauriel found she did not relish the prospect of spending an evening as the sole object of Thranduil's interest and curiosity. She knew he did favor her connection to Kíli, even if he still did not fully understand it, but she did not feel ready to put her own feelings on display just yet; her relief and joy still felt too fresh and intimate to be shared with anyone but her beloved himself.

But when she was ushered into the private dining chamber within the palace, she saw that the table was set only for two. With what was surely a faint smile, her attendant explained that the king offered his apologies but was detained by a private matter of no small importance and that she and the dwarf prince must enjoy the dinner without him.

When she was alone, Tauriel allowed herself her own smile of amusement. Surely the king had meant the evening as a gift to her and Kíli from the first; the misdirection of the invitation was either a private bit of humor on Thranduil's part, or more likely, was meant to add to the surprise.

This chamber, in the royal wing of the fortress, was one she had never visited before. The great stone pillars, carved in the form of tree trunks, gradually gave way at the far end of the room to living trees, their branches still decked with red and gold. Beyond the leaves Tauriel glimpsed the eastern sky, stars already pricked out against the first deep blue that followed sunset.

All was lit by the warm glow of dozens of beeswax candles, some set on small tables about the room, others upon the columns themselves, more hanging suspended from the trees. The candles' sweet honeyed scent filled the air, mingling with the musty smell of dry leaves that flowed in on the sharp, evening breeze.

At the near end of the room was the table, small enough to be intimate, yet not so as to be cramped. No food had yet been served, though there was a samovar which Tauriel discovered to be filled with mulled cider spiked with brandy.

She had taken her glass to the far end of the room and was gazing out at the distant shadow of Erebor when Kíli was shown in. Tauriel turned to find him gazing at her, a look of gentle wonder on his face.

"Meleth nín," she called him, holding out her hands.

He came and took her hands in his own.

"My lady, you are most beautiful," he said.

Tauriel blushed; no-one save Kíli ever called her "lady."

"Has our host not yet arrived?" Kíli asked.

"Our host has given the night to us."

"I see. I suppose I shall have to take back a great many things I have said about him in private."

She smiled. "Indeed." She laid a hand on Kíli's newly trimmed cheek. "You look all the more handsome now that I may see your face once again," she said and kissed him.

"You taste of spiced apples."

"From the cider!" She laughed. "You must have some; it is a traditional drink for this time of year. T'would not be autumn without it."

"Then I very much want to try it, though I suspect I will prefer it from your lips."

They were both just finishing their drinks when, as if on cue, a pair of attendants arrived with the food.

The meal was hearty and warming, as befitted the harvest season: roast venison; a savory tart filled with spiced squash; lake trout with rosemary; toasted nuts; and rich, sweet root vegetables. They were served two kinds of wine. For desert, there were baked apples drizzled with cream.