Important Announcement, Please Read:

I am very sorry for the inconvenience but I have decided to transfer this story, to the original story, Tales of Mirkwood. I've resolved, after weeks of pondering, that I am much more comfortable in compiling the three parts in one single story. Here is the link:

https: (space ) .net (space) /s/9840699/1/ (space) Tales-of-Mirkwood-Legolas-and-Tauriel

Note: for the link to work, please remove the spaces in between!

Anyway, I promise the next chapter to be uploaded by January 1 as a Christmas present! Yay. Please do not review here, and please do leave reviews in the newly added chapter of Tales of Mirkwood, if you have the time. Thank you all! Happy Holidays 3

Much thanks to my beta, TheCheshireCatt, for being patient with me and for helping me with this chapter.

This one's for all who who stayed with me since Tales of Mirkwood, for understanding and waiting despite my very constant broken promises.

One: The Sight of Dwarves

He had succeeded thus far in keeping her out of his mind, but all ropes must break, and he had not secured his memories as well as he had thought. If he could, he would have blamed it on the dwarf at his side. If Gimli had not asked about Kili's rock, he would never have thought of home. But also he knew that it was no one's fault. It was something fated to happen, like the way the leaves turned brown and the way the day turned into night. Whether or not the dwarf had spoken, he would have remembered her.

Legolas and Gimli climbed the stone path upwards, walking to the inner levels of the city. Despite how efficiently the men had cleaned the cities roads, it still reeked heavily of blood and war—a smell now sadly familiar to him. They passed through broken walls and burnt gates until the main fortress of Helm's Deep frowned upon them, a gigantic mass of rock and shadow.

They paused before stepping into the city, surveying the damage around them. Legolas' eyes were beckoned by the sound of windows creaking slowly. He looked upwards to see faces peering from the buildings. Little heads peeked out; bright lights behind them, their silhouettes dark.

"Even the children are quiet," he whispered as he met the eyes of a young girl.

Gimli grunted as he pushed the gate open. "Even the children mourn."

The rest of the walk they trudged in silence. It must have been hundreds of steps when they reached the fortress. Here was where they would sleep tonight, and here was where they would find their friend. Or at least Legolas hoped.

"Which room?" he asked.

"Last I saw him, he was with the Esme." His face darkened with his next words. "Hama and the young boy's bodies were found outside the gates."

Esme was Hama's wife, Legolas remembered. He gave a solemn nod and then a thought made him slow his pace.

"What is it?" Gimli gave him a worried look when he sensed the elves hesitation.

"Death is becoming far too common an occurrence," he replied in a quiet voice. "It used to stop me in my tracks. But now..." His hand flew to his chest, as if doubting whether he would still feel the heartbeat beneath his own skin. "Now it is like an everyday happening, and I wonder whether it has made me numb or indifferent."

For seconds Gimli only watched him. And then he turned around, nodding. "You are not alone. I think even I am starting to grow tired of blood and cadavers."

"But that exactly is the price we have to pay for victory… blood and cadavers." Legolas lifted his tired eyes.

The dwarf nodded.

They searched the stronghold, but they could not find Aragorn. Gimli insisted they search a second time, but Legolas knew that their friend did not want to be found. He knew that Aragorn needed time alone. So instead, he and Gimli made their way to a large balcony on the upper floors.

They had not meant to linger, but the night called to them and elf and dwarf stood side by side, looking down at the wreckage of the war.

Darkness had a way of feeding into sorrow, and so it was also that night. As Legolas looked down at the fields, the bodies that lay there seemed to scream at him from the night. At the side of his vision he knew Gimli was also taking in the sight of death, because the dwarf was shaking his head slowly, as if in disgust. The Battle of Hornburg had been a victory, but that didn't mean it merited celebration. Helm's Deep also bled with wounds that would take years to heal, and that meant more than the number of casualties. The young children were cursed to dream of the sounds of war; the parents destined to yearn for the memories of the sons they had once loved and now lost; lovers now haunted by the ghosts of those they held in their heart.

It was at that moment, when death was heavily entertained in his mind, that Gimli reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "This was given to me by my father," he said, holding out a small, perfectly oval, black stone. It was dark, but the moonlight shone on its smooth surface, and Legolas saw clearly the etches on its surface.

Years later, Legolas would wonder what had compelled the dwarf to remember the runestone in his pocket. Had it been the stare of a thousand deaths and the awareness of his own life that reminded him of his supposed luck? Had it been his own curiousness to know of Legolas' story? Or was it simply just another of the dwarf's bursts of spontaneity? Legolas never chanced to ask. But he knew that it was that runestone that broke his years of careful abandoning, of placing the thought of a time—and of a certain she-elf—in the deepest parts of his memory. Because remembering would surely render him distracted and harmful to their quest.

"He told me it was a harvest from a quest that he was sure would have brought him death, and so he says it would bring me luck, just like how lucky he was in his journey," the dwarf laughed loudly. His gruff voice echoed in the vastness, eerily fitting the sight below them. "Silly superstitions. A runestone would not save me from a sword aimed at my neck."

Legolas found himself speechless. The stone that was safely tucked in his breast pocket seemed to turn as heavy as a boulder. Before he could stop himself, his hand

flew to the stone, and he pulled it out. It was as if he had just been waiting for the chance to do so.

Kili's stone was as smooth as ever. Time had not changed it in anyway and Legolas thought: here was the epitome of immortality. Seeing it was like seeing many years of his past pass quickly in front of him. The coming of the dwarves—the dragon, the dark elves, death—and then him finally leaving Mirkwood.

Many, many years ago, when he had chosen to leave and continue Aegnir's work, Legolas knew it had meant giving up a lot of things. He said goodbye to the comfort of home, the privilege of royalty, the ease of the familiar. He had said goodbye easily, for these were things he had never been dependent upon. The comfort of home he had always challenged. The privilege of royalty he had always put aside. And the ease of the familiar he had taught himself to let go.

He had thought himself prepared to leave home.

How very wrong he was.

Leaving—and sticking to it—meant more than the life he had built upon itself. It was also the life that people built around him.

He had said goodbye to his father, his friends...and even to Tauriel.

He flinched from an unknown source. The mere thought of her name clenched his heart and punished his spirit. The years of trying to ward her out of his thoughts seemed to crumble down upon him, forcing him to fall with its weight. His thumb glided through the stone in his hand, feeling the runes carved deeply into its surface.

"She must be a very beautiful lass."

Legolas started at the voice. He had almost forgotten about the dwarf standing next to him.

Gimli was looking at him with a curious expression on his face. It was a strange mixture of sadness and mischief.

"What?" Legolas asked.

"The she-elf you think of now. She must be very beautiful."

Legolas paused, but did not break Gimli's stare. The dwarf, however, did not look away and his expression did not change. Finally, Legolas sighed and gave in.

"She is," he said softly. He turned to look at the sky, and he remembered her hair and her eyes and the way she would smile at him with the fierce resolve in her heart. "She is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen in this world." He gave a small smile. "And I have seen very many beautiful things." Then his eyebrow rose as he turned back to the dwarf. "How did you know?" he asked.

Gimli laughed in his deep, gravel voice. "How could I not? I have awoken many nights to see you staring at the stars, that longing look in your eyes. I have seen you hold that stone like it was your life, like it was the cheek of a lover. Your sighs are forever heavy and loud, like you are calling out to someone miles and miles away." He laughed again. "You elves take pride of your sharp eyes, but we dwarves see more deeply than you ever can."

Legolas chose to ignore the last comment, and instead gave a smile to his friend.

"So, what is her name?" Gimli asked. He looked reserved, but his voice betrayed his curiosity.

"Her name is Tauriel." He smiled again as he remembered her stubbornness and courage. "You would like her. Very much."

At this, Gimli grinned. "If she is any different from you, then I would." Then he frowned. "And why is she not with us now?"

Legolas paused. The tale his friend asked of him was one that spanned many years.

When Legolas had left Mirkwood to finish Aegnir's quest, he knew that he would not be able to return immediately. But he had not expected to be gone for two decades.

Although it had been difficult, he had first returned to the collapsed mountain of the dark elves. He had searched through gravel and rock, trying to find a compass that would lead him where he needed to go. Yet weeks passed, and he saw nothing. There was no sign of the elves he had heard conspiring, and more importantly, there was no sign of the Elder the dark elves had spoken about.

And so he toiled. He moved out of the mountains into others, hoping to find some sort of clue. Before he knew it, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. He knew nothing but the sound of each trudge, and the cold of each night. He started to yearn for the stars, and he started to cling to a certain stone.

"After twenty years, I found nothing," he narrated to Gimli. "It was a heavy result to carry, and I was afraid to return with nothing. But... it meant that I would see my friends again, and that was a light that turned away all of my worries."

"You returned home." Gimli nodded solemnly. "But you left again, did you not?"

"Yes," Legolas said. His stay had lasted only for two years. He had left Mirkwood again afterwards and, again, for many years, he had found nothing. It had become more difficult because of the growing dark forces in the East. And it was only a year ago when finally he caught sight of a person who would have given him answers. For days he had pursued her, but the escape of Gollum from the dungeons of Mirkwood forced him to abandon his pursuit.

"That is an interesting tale, but it still does not answer why she is not with us now," Gimli said after a few minutes of silence.

Legolas smiled. "I thought it would be clear in the shadow of my words. Tauriel is not here, because I told her to stay. I miss her like the night misses the laughter of the stars. Always. It is a weight that never really goes away. But I will never compromise her safety for my happiness." He opened his palm to show Gimli the stone. "I promised her my safety, she could not promise hers to me."

"Did she give that to you?" Gimli asked, his eyes shifting to the stone. Then, as he saw what was written on the surface, his eyes widened. "Those marks are of Durin's line."

Legolas nodded, handing the stone to his friend. "Yes. It was given to her by one of your kin." An image of the young dwarf flashed in his mind. It had used to make his heart ache, but now all Legolas felt when he remembered Kili was a soft pang of regret.

"They gave it to her?" Gimli almost bellowed, his wide eyes growing even bigger. "A dwarf gave it to her?"

"Yes," Legolas smiled. "It surprised me as well, but she stole the hearts of many—and not only elves. It may be hard to believe, but it is the truth." He received the stone back and touched it carefully. "She would be happy, seeing me talking to you like this." He slipped the stone carefully into his pocket.

Gimli grunted. "She certainly seems like an interesting lass." He looked away, and then, as if as an afterthought, he asked softly, "Do you miss her?"

Legolas' gaze again flew to the heavens. He could almost hear her voice. "More than I can ever put into words."

"Friends," someone called out behind them, and both of them startled at the sound. Turning, they saw Aragorn standing at the balcony door. Legolas could see how heavy he carried himself, how each step seemed to take much effort. He walked towards them, and the elf and the dwarf stood aside to let him stand between them. Like they did earlier that night, Aragorn peered down at the remnants of the battle.

Minutes later, he spoke. "Haleth was only fourteen years old." His voice was stiff.

"Mellon," Legolas said softly. "There are two things we cannot control," Legolas said, as he watched Aragorn clench his fists. "Love and war. You are the future king, but that does not mean you are responsible for all the things that happen in this world. Haleth died a noble death." Legolas had learned this many years ago. She had told him this. Many, many years ago. Aragorn knew this as well. But sometimes even the greatest of kings needed reminding.

"The elf is right, lad. There was nothing you could have done," Gimli added, his voice gruff.

Aragorn breathed out. Slowly. Loudly. And then he glanced at them both, his eyes grateful. He nodded. "Sometimes it is just difficult to remember the value of what you were supposed to be fighting for when death has taken much of those you care about."

Silence again took over and the stars brightened in the sky. Minutes passed like this, wherein Legolas just took in the beauty and dangerous appeal of the night. And when he thought he would withdraw from his friends for the night, Aragorn suddenly spoke.

"There has been a band of men looting on the eastern side of the grounds, near the forest of Fangorn," Aragorn said. "They have been taking the armour of those who fell in the battle."

Gimli growled, and his face darkened. "I have nothing but despise for those who have no respect for the dead."

"They have not been caught yet?" Legolas also frowned.

"They're well organised, scouts are hidden at planned areas and are able to warn the looters even when our own riders are still miles away from them," Aragorn explained. He gave a worried glance at Legolas before continuing, now in a careful voice. "It has worried us, because some of the riders claim that there are elves in this thieving band."

Legolas froze. Again, memories flooded into him, but it was not the good natured ones that he had remembered earlier. No, these ones were full of darkness. Of an elf threatening them with words from the inside of a cell. Of arrows flying at them from the darkness of the Mirkwood forest, and most of all, of even his oldest friend losing his will to a sickness none of them could cure.

"Elves?" Was all he could say. He wished he had misheard Aragorn, but he also knew that he had not.

"Yes, mellon." Aragorn was watching him carefully.

"I… They need to be found." Legolas faced his friend. "We need to see if this is true."

Aragorn nodded. "Gandalf said the same. We will look into it in the morning. The wizard will visit Saruman and he asks that we go with him. We meet at the gates at daybreak." He again took a deep breath, then looked out at the world shrouded in darkness. "I know it is more than we could ever ask of them, but sometimes I wonder where Frodo and Sam are, and sometimes I worry. Gandalf has much faith in them, and so do I, but sometimes it is not difficult to be overcome by this continuous loss and fear of tomorrow," Aragorn mused.

"They are sturdy lads," Gimli commented after a few minutes of silence. Through the darkness, Legolas seemed to glimpse the burning fires of Mordor. "They will make it through."

"Yes," Legolas agreed quietly. With every breath he took and released, he slowly let go of his worries. Then he raised his eyes to the stars. He took in their light, took in the halo around them. And when he closed his eyes, he could still see them blinking at him. "They will make it through," he repeated, his hands finding the stone in his pocket. Again, he passed a thumb over it so lightly. "And then we can all return home."

END OF CHAPTER

A/N: Finally, finally. It has been so long, but I hope you guys are still with me!

Further ramblings: Naming this chapter gave me a headache. I was almost going to decide on an elven word, but I realized that that was only for the second part of this trilogy. So I decided to be a bit more allowing with myself for this last installment. Last installment. Huh. I'm glad to finally have the chance to finish this, but I'll be missing you guys when it's finally done! TT_TT

Please do tell me what you thought about the chapter. I haven't written in a while so I'll need all the feedback I can get. Please? :D

I've missed you all!

Vee