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Author Topic: One Promise Kept [Post BoFA]  (Read 1546 times)


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One Promise Kept [Post BoFA]
« on: February 04, 2015, 06:26:00 PM »
It was unbelievably painful to walk this route again. Every inch of it was soaked to the brim with blood and memories of the atrocities that had come to pass here. Savagery of the worst kind and yet repeated a million times since the creation of Arda: War. The corpses of the slain had been removed and yet the evidence of what had happened was still visible wherever you took your sore eyes. Tauriel's heart was heavy, heavier than it ever had been. Who was to blame for this? For all those deaths, unnecessary and yet so horribly final? Could one really point a finger? Perhaps that was the worst of it all. Too many were to blame, and far too many had suffered incomparably for it. And now, what had been gained? Thorin Oakenshield had been slain, and so had Fili and Kili. Kili … the young dwarf with the cheeky smile, who had made a promise to his mother that he would return to her safely. How many others had made this promise and had broken it now?

Walking over the battlefield that had seen five armies of different kind, Tauriel suddenly could understand why Thranduil might have felt the wish to leave. He had seen the death of his elven brothers and sisters and he had foreseen even more deaths. He had not been willing to pay the price. And yet, would he have been willing to pay the price of even more deaths by refusing his help? This had fuelled her impulse to step into his path and now the deaths of those who had died by her insistance weighed on her like a thousand rocks. It had been an impossible choice back then, choosing between the lives of her own kind and those she cared for. She had made her decision fuelled by the hot flame of justice. But justice, she realized, was never truly at home on a scene of war. In the end, the only winner of a battle was death. It could have all been avoided. Somehow, surely. But who indeed could say when the wrong path had been taken? When the dragon first came to Erebor? When Thranduil had imprisoned the dwarves rather than helping them? Or had there never been a choice? In the end... there probably was no answer. Just silence. The silent void that those who had died left in the hearts of those who had cared for them.

So, what was there to do, when all was said and done? Tauriel was not sure, if she could return to Greenwood now and continue her life as it had been. Her eyes had seen too much for that. Her mind was no longer at peace, after it had been faced with a dilemma of life and death. She did not know what she would do after she left the plains around Erebor. But she did know that there was one thing left to be done before she could leave.
All through the night, when she had found no sleep, she had completed the task she had set herself up to do and now that it was done, it was time to return a very precious item to its owner. This was the very reason why she willed herself to walk across the battlefield towards the entrance to the Halls of Erebor. Once there, she bowed her head respectfully to the two Iron Hill dwarves that had been installed as gatekeepers. „I wish to see Ori, the chronicler of late Thorin Oakenshield's company.“

Curiosity and mild wariness sparked in their eyes, but one of them nodded and beckoned her to follow him. For the first time, Tauriel entered the vast halls of Erebor, but she hardly had an eye for their majestic beauty. All she could think of was the task she had to perform, one last show of goodwill and friendship. It would not bring back the dead... but it might end this whole episode on a note that was not all grief and regret.


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One Promise Kept [Post BoFA]
« Reply #1 on: February 04, 2015, 10:59:00 PM »
The jade halls of Erebor did not cease to amaze Ori, no matter how much he walked them. At first, when it had only been the company alone with their dragonsick king, the place had been nothing more than a desolate tomb where mistrust and fear grew. Yet, with the presence of Dáin and his kin to accompany them, the lad could see the splendor of Erebor without the curse of the dead and the gold to tower over it. It was the the home of Dwarves, and now his home, so there was now nothing to fear. Yet how to stop looking in wonder at the palace of old, of jade and golden veins, think of it was his home rather than a legend living?

Legends, of course, was all that was left of their old king and his heirs. The very three that were coming into their own with the reconquering of Erebor dying almost seemed too cruel a joke to bear. Yet these three had almost become part of the stone halls by becoming stories now, in the mouths of the Laketown Men who had seen then proud and steadfast in their wooden halls, in the scribblings that Ori himself would soon have to recreate for the sake of the memory of Thorin, and for himself. Legends, he would have to write. Yet, it seemed that part of his soul had gone out with the writing of his little notebook, now in the hands of the Elven captain, and probably lost. It was like that old tale he had found once deep within the Archives, of an Elf who lived among the Valar and made jewels that surpassed the sun and moon, and who could not give them over, for his heart had gone into them. It was almost like this with Ori - of course he would not die if he did not have his chronicle back, but in his heart he knew there was nothing he could have done to recreate the thrill of the journey in ink again.

Then one afternoon, after having discussed what was to be done with the lost Archives, a guard from the Iron Hills had come up to them and waited until they were done. “Lord Balin, there is a summons at the Great Gate for Master Ori.” Ori had excused himself shortly afterwards and followed the guard through the maze of stone halls to the entrance of the kingdom. How odd was it that he had to narrow his eyes at the winter sun on the horizon when they surfaced from the firelit kingdom, but even odder was when they began walking over the debris of the makeshift wall from the war, and Ori looked up to the sight of the Captain of the Elven Guard, who he had not seen since their imprisonment in Mirkwood.

“Captain…!” The lad was speechless, since he still did not know the name of the Elf maiden, but also from confusion of her very presence. So unsure of what to do he was, that he bowed and then cleared his throat. She was certainly not looking well from the aftermath of the battle, yet Ori had no idea what had transpired in the land of the Elves during or after the Battle of the Five Armies, as it was being called. Not only was she transfixed with grief, but she did not wear the same uniform he had seen her in the cells with...almost as if she had been stripped of her rank. “W-what brings you to Erebor? Why have you called me?” Only then did he remember, and for a moment a shadow of the old Ori seemed to return. “You have the...the chronicle?” It almost seemed wrong, to sound mirthful even after so much death, but he couldn’t help but let himself be grateful the return of his work.

Played by Jo


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One Promise Kept [Post BoFA]
« Reply #2 on: February 04, 2015, 11:56:00 PM »
A part of her had thought to be met with refusal, maybe even be sneered at. After all, even after they had fought together, elves and dwarves were still far from treating each other civilly. But apparently the hostility didn't went so far as to deny her access. How would Ori receive her though? After their spectacular escape from Thranduil's halls, she had never seen him again, as he had already left Laketown when Legolas and her had rescued injured Kili and the humans. Memories unbiddenly flooded her mind, memories of what had come to pass. As meticulously as she could, she had written those down, completed the chronicle from her point of view. But what would he think of that? Would he appreciate it or not? By all he knew, she might have lost it. He had no idea how faithfully she had held on to his treasure.

And there he was. Tauriel couldn't help but wince as Ori came into view. He seemed even smaller than she remembered, as if some heavy weight had descended on his shoulders. Could it be it was similar to the weight she herself bore? And then she winced yet again when he greeted her. 'Captain', he said. Captain. No, she could not be captain any longer. Thranduil had snapped her bow, when she had threatened him with it. Snapping an elf's bow was worse than all exclamations of banishment. Without her bow, Tauriel was nothing. It wasn't just the weapon itself, she could fight with two daggers, with a sword, she could even get a new bow. It was what the bow represented: Her pride as a warrior, her rank as a captain – it had been a gift from Legolas for her promotion – even just her freedom as an elf of Mirkwood. It had been a short Mirkwood bow, elves of Lothlorien and Imladris used other styles of bows. When the wood had broken with that hollow sound, so had a part of Tauriel's heart.

„Call me Tauriel, please“, she offered him, though the look in her eyes might hint at it being more a plea than an offer. Then she remembered what her name meant and another wave of pain flooded her soul. Daughter of the Forest … would she have to change her name too? I could call myself Albairiel... Daughter of nowhere.
Ori's facial expression, though, chased away some of the gloom in her heart, lifted some of the shadows on her mind. She had hoped for such a reaction. It compensated for some of the hardships of the past days. Inclining her head, Tauriel reached into the bag at her side and pulled out the chronicle. „I have kept it safe for you, chronicler. It is rightfully yours and now I return it. And...“

Gingerly she extended her hand and encouraged him to take it, before she continued with a hesitant voice. „It might have been overbearing of me... but I kept track of what has happened while it was in my possession. The fight with the Orcs, the demise of Laketown, and … the battle. In Westron and in Tengwar.“


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One Promise Kept [Post BoFA]
« Reply #3 on: February 05, 2015, 10:33:00 PM »
His suspicions were confirmed by the sight of the grief in her eyes just when he called her Captain. “Call me Tauriel, please” she pleaded, and Ori took a step back. There was nothing to know about what had happened in the war to her, but there was no indication that she was still a loyal supporter of Thranduil. There was nothing to Ori pursed his lips and nodded grimly, because he could say nothing, and asking would be too rude. It was too early to poke at such wounds. Maybe she had not lost her king, but whatever this battle had done to her must have been a treasure to her. If anything, he folded his hands behind his back, and his head hung humbly.

Some light returned to her eyes when he asked for the chronicle with hope in his voice. It was not the same Captain…Tauriel he had seen back at the woods: clever, proud, fierce and independent. It was more of a tender tone that she used, when she said, “I have kept it safe for you, chronicler. It is rightfully yours and now I return it.” Ori gasped at the sight of his little book, safe and sound, in Tauriel’s hands when she produced it. He hadn’t expected her to keep the promise, ever since Bilbo had whisked them away and Ori had no chance to see where Tauriel had gone off to. It had lowered his spirits for quite some time in their stay at Laketown...but here it was. An elf had not just been polite and courteous towards him, but she had loyally hung to a prisoner’s trinket she did not need to hand over at any time. Ori’s smile could have been brighter once, but now it was just accompanied with the most heartfelt of all faces.

The Elf-maiden was not done. “And...It might have been overbearing of me... but I kept track of what has happened while it was in my possession.” “...You…?” Ori was taken aback by the thought of an Elf writing down...on. His. Chronicle! The chronicle for the recovery of one of the most precious Dwarven kingdoms, now being...spoiled by an Elf! “The fight with the Orcs, the demise of Laketown, and … the battle. In Westron and in Tengwar.” Ori sprang forward to clutch the book like it was his lifeline, forgetting all politeness for a moment, because he needed to look. There were his own sketches, his words, his Khûzdul and Dwarven Cirth, and the Westron. And so he went on, to Tauriel’s own rendition of the accounts after their escape in Mirkwood. His eyes were glazed by her work; the conflicting styles, everything. There was no time now to see if they were magnificent work, of course, but he knew it was enough just by a mere glance.

The cover was closed, and Ori looked up to the once-Captain in wonder. “You have given me back my most valued work, C - Tauriel.” He recognized his own stumble to call her Captain in time, and he hurried on to explain. “There is almost nothing could have ever done to win my loyalty, and my friendship like this.” He choked on his own words. “Thank you. I...I don’t know if our kingdoms will be friends or foes after this, but know that you have done the company of Thorin Oakenshield, the kingdom of Erebor, and myself an invaluable service.” The word company was spoken in a sob. “It wasn’t overbearing, not at all. This is wonderful.” Oh, hang it all if it was not picture-perfect for the Archives! If Tauriel had been a Dwarf, or even a Man, he would have sprang forward to embrace her with all the warmth he could, because gifts these days were hard to come well as friendship, or loyalty, or trust.

Played by Jo


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