So Comes Snow After Fire

1.v

Tauriel sat on the edge of the bed and let the heat from the fire sink into her bones.

It felt wonderful to have a place that was warm and welcome, prepared just for her. Exile had been like the creeping numbness of cold limbs, slowly but steadily spreading its ache through her.

A home, somewhere to belong: that was what these dwarves had fought to reclaim. But where was she to find those things again? It was not Thranduil's sentence alone that had changed her; when she had chosen to care about the fate of thirteen dwarves from Erebor, she had stepped into a larger world than she had ever known before. Her place in it would have been unclear, even had she been welcome back to the Greenwood. She could not turn her back on the world and on these people she had known, though briefly. She could not turn her back on Kíli.

Just what was Kíli to her?

What you feel for him is not love.

Thranduil's words had angered her at first. Who was he to know? He had forgotten what it was to put someone else's good above his own. But even more, his claim had frightened her. What did she know of love? She had never loved anyone, not in that singular way one cherished a lover or a spouse. Was this tenderness, this bold and inexplicable desire, truly love? Or was it simply frustration with what she knew and curiosity for what she did not? Was there something she needed to prove by believing she loved Kíli?

Would you die for him?

She had more than half expected to meet death at Kíli's side when she had defied her king and charged up the cliffs of Ravenhill.

Dying for someone was easy, she had realized later. You made your choice and that was the end. The consequences were for others, not for you.

But living for someone—that was more difficult. You had to go on choosing to give yourself for him, even when it was painful or you wanted something different. You had to live with the consequences.

You make me feel alive, Kíli had said.

Alive, you could still be hurt. And yet you could also give. You could love.

Tauriel believed Kíli was worth loving.

She undressed and put on the loose robe that had been left for her. It was a bit short, but served well enough for a nightshirt. By lying slantwise across the bed, she was just able to fit without her feet dangling off the end. She didn't care; it was the first proper bed she'd slept in for weeks.

As Tauriel tugged the heavy blankets up over her shoulder, her eyes fell on Kíli's runestone, which she had taken from her pocket and laid on the bedside table. She caught it up and held it clasped in her hand as she fell asleep.