Darkest Nights | Love of Royals: Book II

XVII: That Year

Ílren's POV

It turns out, Tauriel has to lead a meeting with the other guards. And with Fíria and Legolas frolicking in the forest, that leaves me alone as I'm used to.  At least, I was used to it before I found them—my true friends.  I was never that close to anyone in Imladris, still closed off after my years in the wild, but these three are beginning to open me up. 

Fíria has her own... interesting way of doing that, to say the least. Our nighttime conversations often feature her teasing me for falling for Tauriel, who apparently disliked the snarky black-haired elleth upon first meeting her. Legolas, however, was instantly infatuated. Almost like myself with Tauriel, when that black fire ignited somewhere deep inside.

'She has nice dimples, Tauriel. Do you like her dimples?'

'Why are you asking me about her di—'

'You do like her dimples!'

'Yes, I like her dimples!'

That memory has me smiling to myself as I stroll down the path back towards the kingdom's cool, airy outer halls. She does have nice dimples, but leave it to Fíria to rub it in my face for thinking that. If only either of them knew that I see Tauriel in the autumn colours in the trees, her strong spirit in the wind and her name in the stars. She's more than I could have ever dreamed, and I wish I could somehow heal her broken heart—which she hides from the world like Fíria hides her true identity.

My insides lurch as a figure approaches from the other end of the path—a male, dark-haired, not as tall as me but seemingly broader. It's the unmistakable sneer on his would-be handsome face that warns me exactly who this ellon is. He takes one look at me and my Ranger's attire, and his lip curls; then Avalor Tavalion clears his throat.

'Another dark-haired beauty for the Captain of the Guard?' he drawls. Oh, that drawl—the tales I have heard of that drawl, and the words he spoke to Fíria and even Elena. It's enough to make my blood simmer.

My mind reeling, I lift a brow. 'What are you talking about?' 

If he speaks of something that happened fourteen years ago... something that hurt Tauriel, Legolas and Thranduil himself...

Avalor grins maliciously. 'You don't know?  She hasn't told you?'

'Told me what?' I ask. How in Arda would he know what happened in that year...

'If she doesn't trust you with it, then it's best you don't know...' the ellon tails off, shaking his head.

My inner black fire is raging now—not with love, but with fury. This ellon thinks he can taunt me with Tauriel's grief... over another dark-haired beauty? Who was he?

'How do you know Tauriel's secrets?' I almost growl.

'If you were there at the time, then you know everything that happened,' Avalor replies smugly.

'I don't have time for this,' I say firmly. 'I've heard enough about you, Avalor Tavalion, to know what you're like with newcomers. I know how you treated Fíria and Queen Elena.'

A memory flickers over his dark eyes, perhaps images of what he tried to do to them both. What he still wants to do. 'Queen Elena. I remember when she was as lost as you are. I remember when Tauriel was like that—only fourteen years ago. How old would you have been then, Ranger?'

Aha—of course.  He thinks I'm only a young man, as do many who meet me for the first time.  If he saw me fighting, he would see trademark elven grace and fluidity in my movements, but Dúnadán techniques and weapons.  But who's to say Avalor isn't tricking me right now? How can I be sure he's telling the truth about Tauriel?