Ever Will I Be (The Hobbit- Tauriel, Legolas, M)

[TaurielRiver]

Continuing my journey with the known-you-forever-friendship of younger(er) Legolas and Tauriel prior to the events of The Hobbit… I realised I am actually quite taken with these two. And so. Comfort-affection splashed with a bit of fantasy adventure (or the other way round) in five scenes, all below.

Warning for a small amount of ever-so-slightly-gruesome battle imagery. Not nearly so much as in the books/films, but, just in case.

Ever will I be

The Hobbit

Tauriel, Legolas (M)

"They are devourers of light. They are devourers of all."

The words fell heavy, the pace of the Elven Guard subtly quickening under their weight. The stain of dusk had thickened at each step toward the boundaries of Dol Guldur, more palpable at each thread of Edrahil’s tale.

Before she could catch herself, Tauriel felt her hand reach to her companion’s, winding within his grasp. An unspoken smile, he gently squeezed her palm in return. Never was he first to let go, forever she was grateful.

“Spawn of Ungoliant, the light is their destruction and their unquenchable thirst. Till the end of days they will seek to consume it, and all in their path.”

Ancient shadow-born, the name was barely a growl, an echo of evil long extinct. A hiss between the trees, a second footstep where there was none.

"Her creatures are servants unto themselves. Nameless hunters, half-demon, immortal. But know this-"

Edrahil halted, the line of Elves falling to attention. Swiftly releasing Legolas's hand, she met the Captain at the horizon of his gaze.

"They cannot find death through time. But, like all immortal beings- they can find it at the edge of a blade."

Without care to collect their reaction, Edrahil turned and resumed a cutting pace between the oaks. In the emptiness of his wake, Tauriel became aware of the tepid forest fog sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“And that was him trying to make us feel better" came a whisper, kindling the smallest of lanterns within her chest.

"Not so, Legolas!" Edrahil called, markedly far ahead in but a drop of time. “I have yet to reach the telling of their eight limbs, ten eyes and deadly venom!”

A flicker of surprise and a low ripple of amusement amongst the group as he bowed his head, chagrined. "Ach, forgive me, teacher. I thought only to make our hour of meeting these beasts of unbound evil seem less like... our last.”

Edrahil stepped back into view, remarkably close once more. "It will not be, young one. These are but whispers in the shadows. But darkness has been known to crawl into smaller corners of our kingdom, and there is honour in being the first to know it is not so."

At this, Tauriel dipped her head. It was kind of the Elf to speak of honour such, when really, it bore no credit to his rank to lead their inexperienced party on such a scouting expedition.

"Indeed, no one has seen such creatures since the First Age. They are near past memory into legend.” Though warm, the length of his stare was not so easily lifted, and she could not help but wonder if such memories were not near so far for some.

Nettled in the thought, she saw Legolas paused too, their kin making swiftly ahead. With a nod of reassurance, he gestured she should go on, he would be only moments behind. Untroubled to wait, she took a step toward him whilst he stepped promptly back.

Phrasing a question with the tilt of her head, she coupled it with a pace forward, only to see him again back away. Surprised, she stopped. Her perplexed expression spoke louder than intended and he muffled a laugh, trying to gather the breath to respond.

“Pardon me, I-” he halted mid sentence, increasingly aggrieved.

Filled with concern, she moved to his side once more, his answer an alarmed leap backward. Mystified, she took a quick glance over her shoulder for the source of his unease, one of Edrahil’s mythical giant spiders perhaps.

Seeing this, he broke into an apologetic grin, waving a hand to infer there was nothing accountable on her part, curving his opposite arm to hover in the space before him. Poised at the cusp of restraint, he inhaled in a sudden shiver, spilling into hapless abandon in the bend of his sleeve.

“Huh’TSCHHHU! Huhpt’CHHHH!”

“Goodness, blessings.”

Drawing his arm away, his dismay was enough to encourage a last tentative step forward, though she did hope they wouldn’t retrace the whole journey back through Mirkwood in such a fashion.

“Forgive me. And thank you.” Wavering, he acquiesced to her approach, clearly torn on the merit of the idea.

Whether it was her own disquiet reflected in her friend’s countenance she could not tell, but his shoulders appeared to drift a fraction lower, his complexion touched by an almost indiscernible blush. A veiled breeze at her back, the cool fetor of the marshes ever seemed to carve new veins through the forest. She pressed a hand to his upper arm, instinct surpassing inquiry.

“With my friend, I willingly greet any foe.”

A faint snuffle overlapped his move to a response, his sincere expression watering to apprehension. Faltering to a despairing grimace, he spun back to the fold of his arm, barely missing her in the slight space between them.

“AHptTCHHH! Huh-TSCHEHUU!”

Wholly aghast, he sniffled miserably against the thick weave of his tunic whilst she reached to his inner pocket for the handkerchief he would never remember.

“It is nothing, bless you.” Seeing his disconsolation still undimmed, she tucked the handkerchief against his palm, adding an affectionate “…idiot.”

Easing to a grateful laugh, he turned aside to press over the bridge of his nose, folding softly against the echo of moisture. “My pardon. I have delayed us, and we are missing the rest of Edrahil’s most encouraging rally.”

A fond smirk, and they turned to follow the near invisible trail left by their kin. The whole idea of it was fanciful, terrible, ungrounded. And yet an ephemeral damp had somehow crept upon their usual mirth; the forest, unchanged for an age, now a stranger with the face of a friend.

~

Sprinting between the trees, their steps fell quick as flame, soft as ash. The leaves barely scattered in Tauriel’s wake, each root a ready foothold, branches twisting aside at her passing. Legolas came but a pace behind, silvery hair flickering at the outposts of her vision.

“Ahead!” He pitched a smile across his shoulder, a shade breathless despite the fleeting distance.

Edrahil paid little heed to their return. A queasy silence had crawled from the womb of the forest, bogging the group at the crest of a formidable oak. Bark taken with a sickly hue, sap oozed from the jowls of it’s branches like foul, acrid blood.

“I ven hen delu” he muttered, frown darkening where they could not follow. Spreading his left palm upright, he made an imperceptible curve in the air. Disperse. See this area for what it is.

A nod of ascent, and Tauriel turned to see Legolas already bearing west, a little too hastily to take careful study as prescribed. They had scarcely slipped beyond a deep, mossy slope before he whirled aside, catching himself between a raised hand and the turn of his shoulder.

“Huht-TSHHHU! AHpt’TCHHH!”

She waited til he had straightened before touching a hand to the centre of his back, noting the twinge where he usually softened.

“Forgive me. Still I have not recovered my breath, it would seem.”

“My friend” she hesitated, unconvinced there was not another cause. “Are you well?”

He looked unsure himself. “I do feel a little…” he scrunched his mouth at the corner, searching for the right word “…heavy.”

Her hand lingering, she gave a small rub between his shoulder blades. “Can we not perhaps, return to-” she trailed off, seeing his stare grimly affixed over her shoulder.

Spinning about-face, she met with a small, thread-like cocoon fixed from a dead tree. Reminiscent of a seed pod, the netting bounced with a dull gloss, thickly caved over a sad shape within. Nauseating and transfixing at once, it drifted weightily at each touch of breeze, a haunting pendulum, a warning.

Rounding on the ghastly encasement, Legolas drew a delicate blade from his side, making first to cut down the gruesome husk, then staying his swing. At the head of the trussing, he pointed to a series of ghostly veins emanating from its topmost point, disparate from the rope-like fibres that bore the main load. Tracing back the strands, a network of glutinous white nets throttled the bony branches above. Though some appeared haggard and worn, through all ran a taut, cord-like viper of a thread, snaking away into the canopy and into nothing.

“What cursed trap is this?” Legolas breathed, sheathing the weapon. Disturbing the hanging grave would be akin to igniting the first of the fire beacons across the White Mountains.

“It obscures the ground too” Tauriel whispered, pointing not two leaps away. A hollow beneath the curved gape of a root lay veiled by a stretch of the viscous membrane, the shell of a furred moth affixed at its centre.

Legolas muttered an acknowledgement, the small creature’s agony not lost on him. “Let us take word to Edrahil.”

Tauriel could not pretend she wasn’t glad at the thought of returning to the Captain, who would surely read the substance of these signs. In the drizzly slough of their surrounds, she bit back the dread that enough time had crossed already. This was not, surely, the labour of a single day. Or a single creature, a darker muse toyed.

Vaulting up the slope, Tauriel paused at the brink whilst her companion caught up. There were none of her kin in sight. Not even Edrahil remained by the corrupted oak, surely the spot he inferred he would wait.

“Êl eitho ven.” The old saying issued from her lips before she realised it, and she dipped her head, abashed at her unease. Legolas arched an eyebrow in mild surprise, before breaking with unexpected warmth.

“They will be. And, should all fall and fail, ever will I be at your side to mend what is undone.”

At his sincerity, fond, familiar and ever slightly dramatic in the face of her misgivings, she very near threw her arms around him.

But it was not the time, nor did he look like he’d welcome it. His expression drenched to a woeful frown, he fumbled for the handkerchief so recently rescued for him.

“Huh’phtchhh! Ahd-TCHhhh!”

Moved by the despairing edge to the sound which even the cloth failed to disguise, she decided to envelop him in her arms regardless, astonished to find him shivering under her hold. If anything, the humidity as they neared the southern border had steeped close to oppressive.

“Legolas! Are you so unsettled that you cannot share with me the cause?” Charged with looming fear, her dismay spilled forth stronger than intended, and she immediately regretted such a unreserved exclamation. “My friend, forgive me. My concern was to see you in such a state I recognise not, I-”

“Ach, hush” he whispered, interrupting to return the embrace she had so quickly abandoned, pressing her cheek to his chest and leaning his own to her forehead. It was a gesture she might imagine from a father or brother, if she had known either.

“You are right, of course, as always” he soothed. “I perhaps sought not to worry you, I am myself undecided. Nothing ails my heart, I just…” he cut away, struggling to bring together the idea. “I think I might… have a cold.”

Meeting her gaze for a second, he tightened his arms in a final squeeze before turning aside in a quiet gesture of pardon.

“You are …ill?” The word, unaccustomed to her tongue, dissolved into a trickle of surprise. Noting this, Legolas took a slight step back, a mild shade of hurt brimming at his features.

She reached to him, shaking her head. “Why did you not mention this? Edrahil is not so hard. And we well thought there would be naught to see.” She faltered, the reflection already a distant assumption, not yet a mistake.

With a nod of agreement, Legolas gathered the remains of the crumpled handkerchief under his nose, attempting a comforting blink over the cloth.

“I too was sure the journey would bare nothing of note” he admitted. “And yet now I am glad I came, for I cannot trust what I cannot know. And I’d not let you face that alone.”

The earnestness of his words wound between them, as tight as any embrace. He smiled, finally breaking the solemnity with a mischievous wink. “Besides. I’ll not let it be said that Legolas was the one to miss a thrilling adventure because of a cold.”

Laughing, she knew it were only half a jest, landing a playful swipe at his arm whilst he sniffled down at her. Eyebrows tipping above the expectant shimmer of his eyelids, he fumbled to find a dry spot in the handkerchief.

“I might need to borrow another one of these though, if- ai…apTCHhhh! Hup’TSCHHH!”

Making light of it, he groaned, the usefulness of the cloth clearly at it’s end. It could very nearly have been one of their walks of old, the breadth of the Greenwood the whole of their garden, their teacher but around the next tree. It took only the smallest of sounds to remind them that nothing could be further from the like. And would never be again.

It was the unmistakable sling of an arrow, loosing from an Elven bow. Never had they heard it outside target practice. And yet it was the sound that followed that stuck them with terror- the dull thud of that arrow into the forest floor, the harmless splintering of leaves. It had missed it’s mark.

~

Worst was the quiet. Chasing through the blackness of the forest, there were no screams, no yells or battle cries. Elves did not indulge in needless frenzy- a single word was effort wasted, distraction unto ones self and a bearing to which the enemy could grasp. But silence from a foe itself- that was exceptional. There were a great many creatures in the world one hoped never to face, but most of them came spitting and screeching and bellowing like the hell from whence they came.

Closing to where she heard the arrow, there was barely a whistle in the bracken, save the occasional gasp of her companion valiantly keeping pace. And that did nothing to comfort her. On any other occasion she would have slowed for him, but now she almost hoped he would fall behind, safe from what could come to pass.

An unearthly hissing encroached on her ear, distilling her perception. Stalling to regain judgement on their distance and aspect, behind came the heavy echo of something hitting the ground. Hard.

Whipping around, she already had an arrow affixed to her bow before the arc of her leap came to a standstill. She saw only Legolas, his legs caught in that same demonic weave of membranes, so clinging and unyielding that it had tripped him at full pelt. In an instinctive endeavour to unravel himself, he had plunged his hand against the fibres, syrupy soft to his touch, succeeding only in adding his arm to the spindled lattice.

Sheathing the arrow at her back, in an instant she was at his side. Though he made no sound, his eyes had welled with unexpected panic. Releasing his blade where it wedged against his ribcage, a few well-placed strokes splayed the tangle to a disembodied shroud, and he crawled forward in relief, bucking into his sleeve to muffle a fit of coughing as best he could.

Tucking back his hair as it spilled over his face, her fingers trickled over the heat of his forehead. Struggling toward composure, his expression quickly fogged to bewilderment as he reeled against his shoulder.

“ACHTSHHHEW!”

The corners of his eyes clouding with unspilled moisture, she reached her thumb to gently brush away the wetness whilst he gathered toward another.

“Huh’TSCHHH!”

Repeating the gesture with both hands, she swept aside his husky apology, dabbing the misted haze at the fringe of his nose with the edge of her sleeve. He flickered, surprised, but made no move to stop her, stilling himself until she had amended it then dipping his head in unspoken thanks.

Bracing to one knee, her gaze drifted to the trees above, the matted webbing telling all and nothing of the recent struggle, a chilling white spectre adrift in the dark. Facing the gloom at separate angles, they whetted their attention to the ebb of the forest. The hissing had returned, throwing a disconcerting swale over any pinpricks of sound. Bubbling as if from the soil itself, it had no origin nor end, melting all else to one.

Yet still. There it was. A cascading footfall, transient as air, an Elf for sure. The gait grew ever closer, louder, more desperate, until Edrahil burst from the trees. A ruin of strength long spent, his tunic was splattered with a caustic black ooze, his hair slicked across his neck in a mire of his own blood. With a thin, choking sound, he fell to his knees as they leapt to their feet, and she could have sworn she saw a fondness touch the grim curve of his mouth at the moment he saw them.

He held up a palm, steady and straight, the rest of his body caving under uncontrolled trembling. The hand never wavered. It stopped them in their tracks as solidly as an embankment. Never had they disobeyed an order from the elder, never had he given one so stern as this. Retreat.

As he collapsed, palms gashing against the mud, they again sprang forward until his face contorted in fury, sending the fear of all ends into their hearts. Barely an arms length away, he repeated the signal, meeting Tauriel's eyes with such ferocity that she felt them strangle in his grasp. And do not look back.

Fading, he tumbled to one side, finally twisting to lie at his back. With both hands he drew his sword, the tapered steel a milky glow on the edge of moonlight. Channelling the last of his stamina into the grip, he balanced the blade at a vicious angle over his shoulder, the tip poised to the soft earth, waiting.

And it came. Relic of ancient evil, a creeping mass of limbs, manifestation of nightmare and myth transformed into beastly flesh. The full, glossy body seeped from the darkness, scythe-like hairs beneath it's swollen abdomen. A mass of oozing eyes gathered at it's pinched head, half already blunted by the hedge of steel.

Larger than a full grown elk, it towered over Edrahil's crumpled figure, the Elf’s breathing now a low gurgle under the hiss of the demon's own. Armoured fangs bulging at each side of the ruined head, it considered, then slowly reared on it's back legs, the rest curled despicably in the air, a cage suspended on the ridge of victory.

Holding ground, Tauriel trembled against the arrow fixed in her bow. The underside of the creature throbbed with shadowed veins, channels of blackness beneath the sinuous hull. They are devourers of all.

In the glow of Edrahil's last light, her hands would not move. The moment was surrendering under the fall of the gargantuan body, and it was not until the last pinprick of chance that she felt the sharp whisk of a second arrow flying over her shoulder and sinking into the beating heart of emptiness.

The wail that followed was as soulless as the drumming of the deep, a tearing of the earth, exhumation of chaos unremembered as all darkness in the world echoed in it’s passing. With an unfathomable keening, the creature sunk to it's demise, flailing within reach of Edrahil’s swing, his sword a sweeping arc through the pitiful body, a spray of biting dank.

It was not till Legolas had his arms wrapped around her, dragging her back from the molten, pooling wreck, that she finally stopped screaming.

~

The time that passed on their return to the halls of Mirkwood was a fog of mayhem. Concern, rage, disbelief; the story had been resurrected at the outposts, the boundary, the gates, and finally, the throne, before she was permitted to collapse in her chamber. And even then she could not rest.

The high, shadowed ceilings, usually comforting, now gaped like hanging spectres in the gloom. Kindling a fire, the embers only recalled the sting of venom on her hands as she had dragged Edrahil's body from beneath the cavernous mass of limbs, the bedlam of death burning through the sleeves of her tunic. It had taken the turn of an hour for her welts to be wrapped in a poultice, yet in her chamber she had removed the bandages in seconds; the tight, sticky bonds reminiscent of the great webs. The movements of Elves through the halls stirred her, it seemed the whole realm were either coming or going. Whispers at her doorstep, echoes in the deep.

At the first bridge of silence, she broke from the close of her chamber, winding through the halls on a route so familiar she barely needed to look where she was going. On this occasion, she should have. She neither saw nor felt a presence until she collided with the taller Elf, very nearly sprawling backwards if not for the steadying hands at her shoulders.

Edrahil.

So immense was her shock that she felt her legs give way beneath her, again glad for the firmness of his grip. Dressed in the satin gowns of the physicians’ chambers, the right side of his head was bound in tight gauze, though his arms, like hers, were exposed and lacerated. Welling up at him, her breath came in shallow gasps. She began to doubt she'd ever find words to speak again until he gave a gentle smile, motioning to her unbound arms.

"Ah. I see you've done the old medics the same disservice as me."

Trembling to a crumpled laugh, she had them round his chest without thought or reason. Clinging to him with all ferocity, she tried to squeeze past the sting in her throat, tightening around the heavy, shuddery wetness that seemed to be forcing itself from her chest to her eyes.

It was so awfully, drastically inappropriate, and yet he allowed her to hold on. With the unfussed ease of one who has done and seen far worse, he closed both arms around her shoulders, softened against the weight of her feeling.

“It was Legolas’s arrow” she blurted against his chest, her composure breaking against his kindness. “I did nothing!”

"I was there, young one" he whispered, gentle. "And now we are here. And next time, it will be yours. Do not think yourself so undeserving of my pride."

Breath catching in her throat, the guilt had already washed down her cheeks. He made no mention of it, arms fastened about her quivering frame a moment longer whilst she gulped back the flood of gratitude that threatened to chase the first.

“And what will follow? For these creatures. This evil.”

He made a low hum, an affectionate glint at his eye. “Well. First I will turn a corpse to ash in the glades tonight. Tomorrow, I will see there are ten.”

With a dip of his head he released her. She returned it with a deeper one. They parted, neither heading towards their chamber, respite still distant as dawn.

~

Her knuckles alighted at the gravelled hew of the door, the tap barely resonating before the centre bowed inward. Legolas ushered her through the archway, a sheen of warmth at his brow and a slow, exhausted smile. Instead of robes, he had changed to a fresh hunting tunic and trousers, his boots loosely clasped at his side. If he had intended to put them on, he had long since forgotten.

Easing the solid wooden frame back to a lock, she let her hand brush against his wrist, the flooding pulse suggesting he cared for rest no more than she, and well the worse for it. The straps and casings of his weaponry had been conscientiously laid to dry before the fire, the tips of his remaining arrows freshly honed. His bow stood waxed in beech oil, the leafy-earth scent queerly comforting when warmed by the tone of flame.

Noting the untouched spread of honeyed breads at the fireside, she instead took to the water jar, filling a hopeful glass whilst Legolas bent to stoke the tinder, already fuelled with logs enough to last two moons.

Kneeling in the melting crescent, she gently took the pair of boots from his left hand, fire iron from the right, quickly placing the water glass at his palms before they could set upon further tasks.

"You are still unwell. Humour me."

His restlessness waning at her beseeching smile, he raised the vessel to his lips, the unbroken surface rattling in his uneven grasp. Leaning forward, she steadied it at the base.

“I would rather aid you rest at my side than over my shoulder.”

He managed a small slip if only to please her, before urging the glass back to her hold. Blurring to a dusky frown, he cupped a hand below his nose and swept to his side, the movement strangely graceful even in its urgency.

“Hup’tCHHHh! Adh-TSCHHH!”

“Bless you” she soothed, sitting back on the fold of her knees, an unspoken gesture.

With a thankful sniffle, he wriggled forwards, laying his head in her lap. Gently at first, then with the full weight of his weariness, he sunk to the familiar, comfortable position. "In truth, I am grateful for your company."

They stared into each other’s eyes, sleepless and spent. Letting her fingertips curve through the spill of his hair, she traced a section with the edge of her thumb, separating the lengths. Pulling taught, then soft, she slowly spread her fingers upwards, a shimmering waterfall parting in four rivulets and rejoining at her palm. Curling and wrapping each knuckle in turn, she wove the silk to a loose braid, bound at the finish with a single strand. Indiscernibly, she felt his breathing soften at the rhythm, the faint ripple between his eyebrows smoothing as she quietly tucked the fishtail behind his ear.

“Mm? You needn’t stop.”

She gave a fond squeeze at his shoulder. “La, turn the other way then.”

With a poorly concealed grin, he flopped to face her opposite knee instead. Ever slippery and supple, her hand scooped and divided the hair with unthinking ease. She mirrored the sweeping pattern, winding the strands as she might strike a harp, hue cast from buttermilk to a silvern ash at the glow of the hearth.

Crumpling his nose against the back of his palm, Legolas waited until she had gathered the last scattered threads in place before ducking to his wrist, the robe at her knee catching against the sudden exhale.

“Hup’PTCHHh! Pardon.”

Unfolding her legs, she gently nudged his shoulder, indicating the woven blanket spread beneath him when he blinked back in confusion. Somewhat clumsily, he tried to manoeuvre himself out of the way whilst she tugged at the corner, only realising he was still kneeling over half of it when the fabric stretched out in front of him, tumbling to an ungraceful finish in an effort to disengage all four limbs at once.

“Aei, so much for all your talk of rest!” he laughed, bringing both hands up in defence as she looked game enough to entangle him in it all over.

“Ah, the mistake is mine” she played, her spirits a little higher for the familiar warmth at his tone. “I meant to cover you with it, but I can see it too delicate a procedure for one bestowed with all the agility of a mountain troll.”

With grinning confidence to prove her wrong, Tauriel found herself shrieking as he near pinned her to the rug. With a lithe twist of her leg she swiftly flipped him over, neatly affixing his arms above his shoulders whilst she straddled him at the waist.

“Tch, I see I am too easy on you, as ever” he winked. Expression wilting to shaky alarm, she released his hands in time for him to cage them about his nose, bracing as he jerked forward with near enough force to sit upright.

“ACHTSHHHH! …Huh’TSCHHH!”

The sound echoed wetly against his palms, and she saw a faint blush at the tip of his ear as he glanced to his side, hesitating to remove them. Leaning across, she plucked the clean handkerchief from the fireside, allowing herself to become suddenly fascinated with the mantel’s craftsmanship whilst he made use of it.

“Please forgive me. Though I’ll not do the same if I manage to give this to you, I seem to be making a thorough effort of it.”

“Somehow, I think I would manage to” she murmured, falling to lay at his side. “Might I ask you to humour me once more?”

He shuffled to face her, curious to see her struggling for an eloquent phrase.

“My room is… very empty.”

It sounded far less childish in her mind, and she dared not meet his eye, her wounds still too fresh, her heart too sore.

Quietly, Legolas reached for the blanket scrunched to the wayside in their antics. With a careful flick, he unfurled it over her, wrapping himself in the other half and curling close. Nudging the tip of her nose with his own, she looked up to see a slow pinch at corner of his mouth.

“Only if I can be the big spoon.”

Touched with all that she could not say, she returned the wry grin, gathering her legs a little higher beneath the fleece-like covering.

“Nice try. One day.”

Laughing, he rolled over, taking her arm and tucking it snugly around himself. “You are lucky I am so humble, a lesser Elf would surely protest.”

She pressed against his back, the easing warmth leaking through her chest. “Else I am lucky your pride is so huge, to take such a chip and yet the damage goes unnoticed.”

Taking a small breath, he very nearly managed to respond, twisting into his shoulder at the last second.

“Hup’tdchh! Pardon me.” Finding her hand, he gave a soft squeeze of apology.

With a mumbled blessing, she nestled against the gentle curve of his spine. A lighter shadow not near so far, the lingering face of her nightmare drained to black, the leaves of a thought she could no longer steep.

“Legolas, today… I was so glad you were there.”

A shift of his arm and his fingers wove between her own, entwining the clasp of their hands and pressing them at his heart. “Always.” The rest of his answer was scarcely a whisper, spiralled dust in the flame. “For now, forever… I am so glad you are here.”

-

Edited April 18, 2015 by TaurielRiver

[sallyhally]

Wow! That was incredible! The language, the descriptions and just the way you wrote felt very... elvish

[Leafeon78]

Well descriptive and the writing plus ton of sneezyness in the first is there more?

[CHOCOLATE <3]

So. Stinkin'. Cute

[Garnet]

Aw yissss new TaurielRiver fic. And it's elf-fic? I am so here for this, let's do it.

There is soooo much gorgeous, winding language going on here. I want to, like, print out some of these sentences and frame them on my wall. I am a huge sucker for imagist poetry and this strikes a sort of similar vibe with me. Stuff like "cool fetor of the marshes" and "channels of blackness beneath the sinuous hull", all of it is so very.... Mirkwood. Dark and creeping and strange. I especially love all of the description of the spider webs - as thread, as netting, as shrouds, and being glutinous and ghostly. Shiver.

The pacing is so good, too! I haven't seen much with a younger, still-green Legolas and Tauriel. I headcanon that killing spiders is almost a sport to the wood elves, but I imagine when they first began cropping up, it was a far more grim and unsettling affair. The urgency and confusion was apparent, here. That line about the Elven arrow missing its mark, and being all the more worrisome for it, ooh! The suspense.

Also, I am impressed with how quickly you endeared me to Edrahil. Is he the same that served under Finrod, here, or does he just share a name? Regardless, oh my god the sad. I was so with Tauriel with her despair and feeling a strange mix of "yay sneezefic" and bummed out. But then you put a band-aid on it and yaaay he survived. My heart thanks you for that, haha!

And uh, can we talk about how impossibly fucking cute Tauriel and Legolas are here? Like, the sneezing is delicious (Legolas with a cold, how precious is that, I love the sounds you've chosen for him too) but also this is my very favorite kind of friendship. So loving and teasing. I love all the casual touches, that she can just wipe his eyes and nose for him and neither thinks much of it. And the watching of each other's backs. And oh no the braiding and the spooning it's too much, bear me away to my pyre. Thank you for this.

(Aaand apparently I'm hitting 1k posts with this one haha. How appropriate that it is ELF FLAIL.)

[Ink]

The writing was uncanny and everyone is in character. This was really freaking good. I had to go back and re-read this.

[A-Place-To-Be-Me]

Your writing is very beautiful, and so fitting for the story! I adore the way you orchestrate their banter and sweetness <3 And the action scenes had me quite worried for them, to be honest ;n;

[AngelEyes]

Once again you enthrall me and utterly blow me away with your perfect talent. The language, the pace, the characters. So perfect.

[TaurielRiver]

Yay, thank you to everyone for reading and commenting, I have such a love for this particular fandom so I'm very pleased you enjoyed!

sallyhally- As if my writing being described as Elvish isn't the bestest compliment ever! Thank you so much, this made me a delighted fangirl indeed!

pika- So very cool that you were into this, thank you! This particular story is complete, but if you like the characters, this is the first story I did with them, and I have a shorter thingy on my drabble thread too.

CHOCOLATE<3- Hehe! Thank youu, so awesome to hear you liked!

Garnet-

How excited was I to hear you ask about Edrahil?! Too many excited!! My heart inexplicably goes out to a few lesser-sung heroes of the First Age, and I kind of like the loyal, steadfast seasoned-warrior hints we get about this one. And his story is so gut-wrenching as well. I can totally imagine him having this stoic-kindness/protectiveness about him (which I needed for the story!) but that particular quality also just gets to me like UGH.

Soo, tightrope-walking over a few ominous blanks in the history of events here, but yes, this is my very humble attempt at giving Edrahil of Finrod's company another hour in the light. And, if I accept my own then-to-now version of events in his scraping through that whole balrog-dragon-orc-demon drama that went down with Melkor... I couldn't let one gross spider be his undoing! And more acutely... my heart would never forgive me!!

Is it too odd to say I am UNRESERVEDLY HAPPY that me and my Elf ficcy got your 1000th post? Maybe. But I so sooo am! <3

...espeeecially since it was you and, uh, what was it you said... 'Thranduil's nose!' that converted me to the forum! Oh you know it!!!

Ink- Aw! Thank you for such a sweet comment, I truly appreciate it! And a very warm welcome to the forum too!

A-Place-To-Be-Me- That is soo lovely, thank you! :3 I absolutely adore affectionate friendship banter and action/suspense, so it's wonderful to hear both elements came together in the way I hoped!

AngelEyes- Your comments are a joy to read, such a pick-me-up at all hours! Thank you and they are very much appreciated!

[Blessing Queen]

This fic's perfect!!Loved it!Really well written!!

[frolicking periwinkle]

This could have been my fae friend as the lead. It was delicious. Thank you for writing it.

[Sharpie]

10/10. The writing style, the characterization, the imagery, everything was on point.