Chapter 33

The Rise of Dawn


Tilda knew her father would be greatly disappointed if he found out, but that hardly mattered. The girl almost tripped on the sword longer than her body. Ithildae's weapon was clutched in her arms as she stumbled through the back streets and over fresh snow. The stable was in sight and so were the guards.

Arms grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into an ally. She squeaked and a gentle hushing followed. The Hobbit materialized into the shadows.

"What are you doing out?" He hissed.

Tilda tugged the fabric away and revealed the moon colored designs on the scabbard. His eyes widened and he sniffled, putting his hands on his hips.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I am glad we aren't the only ones who are in on this."

Tilda heard more whispers from the end of the ally and she gaped, it was the Wizard, arm in arm with Thalias. The She-Elf was weak and shivering, yet holding two dark cloaks over her arms.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, miss!" Tilda shuffled forward.

"I will not let her leave without saying goodbye," the Elleth said.

Gandalf eyed the human child with a mild sense of gratitude.

"My dear girl, it seems you have saved our burglar from the task of stealing into Thranduil's tent… Well done. I pray he did not see you?"

Tilda shook her head.

"Very good, no doubt he would have made this more difficult," the Wizard huffed, shifting a pack off his shoulder and apologizing for jostling Thalias.

"You were already going to set them free?" Tilda asked, voice small and innocent.

"I do not believe Thranduil's trial was just, nor did the Lady Galadriel or many others who know Ithildae."

"I was already planning to do something," Bilbo piped up and cleared his throat.

"I've gotten them cloaks and food," Thalias said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

Gandalf nodded.

"Now, I will see to those guards," he made his way out onto the main street in sight of the stable.

The guards were already cast upon the ground, unconscious.

Ithildae sat still in the frozen air, watching the snow trickle down outside the stable door. Her legs throbbed from staying in the same place for so long, but she could do nothing else. Kalus leaned back to back against her, breathing deep. She knew he wasn't asleep, not when such a hefty price would be paid at the rise of the sun. A tremor rolled over her spine and she bowed her head, breathing out and holding back the burn of emotion.

Kalus shifted.

"Ith," he muttered, breath floating like smoke, "Let me go… I couldn't watch," Kalus faltered, "I couldn't watch you fade in a dungeon. You've got centuries of living before you croak, you don't need to spend them in a cage for my ass."

"And I won't watch them kill you, nor will I watch you fade at my side because of your damn misplaced loyalty!" Her last words were traced with a snarl, head whipping to the side.

Kalus grumbled under his breath.

"I am surprised you even tolerate me after your eye," she added.

"I deserved it," he turned his head and looked at her with his one eye gleaming, "Besides, how was I gonna know you'd grow up to be the strongest female I ever met?"

"Don't try and compliment me now,"

"If I hadn't wanted to help ya, you couldn't have dragged me into this. I…" He growled and did not continue.

"Well?" She snapped.

Kalus lifted his back off hers and shifted so he faced her, Ithildae did the same, their chains rattling. Her usually bright white skin was dull and light gray, wounds grave, the singed flesh would never return to normal. But her eyes still shown with the same fire that set him alight the day he met her again.

The male Orc leaned forward and put his hand behind her neck, pulling her until they touched foreheads. Ithildae's breathing was quick and her eyes flicked around rapidly, trying to understand what his gesture meant.

"Did you feel it?" He uttered.

"Feel what?"

"The spark… when I saw your face…" he grunted and closed his eye.

Her brow furrowed and gulped.

"What are you trying to say to me?" Her gruff tone failed to mask a tender fear.

Their closeness was intoxicating.

"I want to be your mate, Ith."

"Bastard," she hissed, closing her eyes and nuzzling her unharmed cheek against his, unable to help but nip the tough and sweaty skin of his neck.

Kalus growled in return. Ithildae was poised to speak until clatters followed by muffled alarmed voices sounded from outside the door. Ithi looked just in time to realize a small figure dropped off the roof and down onto the Elven Guards, now lying in the snow from the sudden collision.

The figure rose and Ithildae recognized the golden eyes, Fotak rushed in the door to their shackles.

"Let's leave!" She hissed yanked out two long pieces of metal, using them skillfully on the keyholes of the chains around their wrists.

"You're alive?" Ithildae gaped and watched her work.

"Won't be if those Golug wake up." The hidden female snarled.

Movement at the door. Ithildae snarled and went to grab a sword that was not there. Only it was Gandalf in the doorway, shocked but not angry.

"Saves time," he muttered under his breath, "Come, child, get her the sword!" He waved his staff behind him.

Ithildae hardly believed when Tilda swept in, prized sword in arm, with a determined face. Fotak recoiled and whipped her knife out and lowered into a fighting pose.

"No, Fotak…" Ithildae flicked her hand, "…They will help us."

"Can you walk?" A familiar voice cooed from outside, the cuffs snapped open and Ithildae stood immediately.

Thalias stood just beyond the doorway, face ashen with pain and her hand gripped tightly by Bilbo. Her hazel eyes lit up at the sight of the Orcess.

"Ithi!"

Ithildae shoved past Gandalf and gently touched Thalias' cheek, the most tender smile she could create on her lips.

"You are all right…"

Thalias stumbled forward and fell into the arms of the Orcess. Ithildae cradled her close, checking her faint and flowery scent for any sign of distress. Thalias wept and Ithildae's strong arms only held her closer.

"You must leave," Thalias breathed, "You… cannot come back. Thranduil will kill you."

Ithildae drew back enough to stare Thalias in the eye, her pale hand encompassed the left side of the Elleth's soft face.

"I know,"

A heavy tear slid along Ithildae's palm.

"Thalias, do not stay cooped up in that Realm… Breathe and be free," Ithildae spoke in earnesty.

For the first time, Thalias' gentle eyes alit with a little flame of daring. Ithildae leaned down and kissed her forehead, pushing back a tendril of Thalias' golden hair. The Elleth stepped back to Gandalf's side, sniffling. Ithildae glanced down at Bilbo, nodding as if to choose him for the task.

"Akashuga," she said, "Go home."

"I will, Ithi… T-Thank you, for what you have done." Bilbo blinked rapidly.

The side of her mouth twitched into a smile.

Kalus came up behind Ithildae, Fotak inching warily forward behind him. Gandalf unshouldered the one heavy pack and Thalias offered the two cloaks. Ithildae was buckling her sword back onto her hip, a hand tousling Tilda's hair fondly. Kalus took the pack and carried it, ignoring the cloak set aside for him.

"I will not tell you where to go," Gandalf began, "But I do ask of you… If you take your place as queen, rule as you would in Mirkwood. Perhaps there is yet hope to sway the servants of Sauron."

Ithildae exhaled, lowering her eyes in a weary manner.

"I cannot change the minds of my people with a few words, too much violence and tradition has been poured into their blood… But my path will be for peace, that I can assure you." She replied, eyeing the stirring guards.

"May the path you walk bring you fortune and peace." The wizard nodded in regard to the Orcess, subtly releasing a spell upon the guards so their eyes and mind remained closed.

Ithildae said nothing and looked at those standing around her, touching Thalias' trembling hand one last time. The three Orcs filed past, making it to the crumbling wall in a matter of moments. Kalus and Fotak went over first, but Ithildae lingered and gave them a glance.

"Ithildae," Bilbo said, knowing her sharp hearing heard him from that distance, "I hope one day your travels will bring you to the Shire…"

She met his eyes and smiled before her powerful legs lifted her into the air and onto the wall, her newly cloaked figure disappearing. Thalias let out a quivering sob as her closest friend set out into a dangerous world pitted against her.

Bilbo's eyes still burned, now doubt swollen from the ragged sobs he let out over the bodies of his friends. He could not even fathom the pain Fili experienced as he lay his uncle and brother to rest in their ornate tombs. Dain crowned Fili right after, all though the new King Under the Mountain held no gleam of joy in his eyes. Only an empty sense of duty.

The Hobbit walked alongside Balin, who fared no better than himself.

"There is to be a great feast tonight, songs will be sung, tales will be told… And Thorin Oakenshield will pass into legend." His voice mourned, gazing to the mountain they fought so hard for.

"I know that is how you must honor him… But to me he was always…" Bilbo felt his eyes burning again, cutting off his choking speech.

Balin's eyes spoke words he could not put into words.

"I think I will slip away quietly, will you tell the others I said goodbye?"

"You tell them yourself."

Bilbo turned to see the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, standing side by side with tears in their eyes. He smiled, facing them, replaying all the deep and fond memories he shared with each of them. No words could ever be enough to express how much these Dwarves meant to him.

"If any of you find yourselves passing Bag End… Tea is at four," the words caught in his throat, "And there is plenty of it, you are welcome anytime."

The Dwarves gave sad bows, smiling at their friend. He knew they shared the same feelings.

"A-And don't bother knocking," he added, to their amusement.

He realized one had been missing when Fili parted his friends and stood before the Hobbit, a young and golden haired king building a kingdom from ruin and grief.

"The same to you, Master Burglar. Our halls are always welcome to Hobbits." He declared, a small smile working its way onto his paled lips.

"You will make a fine king, Fili." Bilbo said.

It suited the Dwarf.

"Bilbo," Fili called as the Hobbit made to leave before more tears could escape him, "We know she is gone… And I thank you. I owe her my life."

Bilbo's heart thundered. Ithildae. The Elves were alight with fury and confusion when they found their prisoners gone, and Thranduil had strong suspicions to whom had set them free. So, Bilbo left that dawn, Gandalf made his way up the path to Erebor leading a horse and pony.

Bilbo blinked.

Someone rode atop the horse. His heart skipped. Thalias had donned a thick traveling cloak and swayed in the saddle, unsure and wary. Gandalf brought them to a halt.

"My dear Bilbo, I hope the inhabitants of the Shire do not mind adding a master seamstress to their town."

Astonishment bloomed in Bilbo's eyes.

"I certainly won't mind," he flushed and cleared his throat.

Thalias smiled, a beautiful and gentle smile that let out her pure and immortal light. Even the Dwarves could not look upon her with disdain. Gandalf bowed in farewell to the Dwarves, no words were said in fear that emotions would spill forth unchecked.

Bilbo rode alongside the taller horse, gazing up every few moments to remind himself that she was really there.

"Ithildae spoke fondly of the Shire," Thalias murmured, "I do not want to live out my life in the Woodland Realm, these are my years to spend and I will not fade in the darkness sewing for an ungrateful king."

"You have chosen well," Gandalf said, "The Hobbits will no doubt be suspicious, but your charm and talent will win them over."

Thalias blushed and petted the frizzy mane of the horse she rode.

"Bilbo!" A voice cried, out of breath and running up the trail behind them.

The horses stopped and they turned to see Ori running in their direction.

"I-I wanted to give this to you," he panted.

Ori held out his journal.

"I made notes and all that, but I want you to remember us… I kept it since Bag End," the young Dwarf smiled.

Bilbo took the book and his eyes watered.

"Thank you, Ori."

He grinned in the lopsided manner he did, turning to the leave the way he came.

Bilbo flipped the book open, were a tab was made and he stilled. Drawn in fluid charcoal on the left page, were sketches of a tall figure in a smudged cloak, and beside it… a vivid portrait of Ithildae. Her hair was traced in red pigment. Thalias saw it too, her breath hitching.

"He… drew that?" She asked.

"Yes," Bilbo cleared his throat, "He would always sketch in this before the sun set at night."

He turned a page and saw another familiar face, etched carefully on the yellow paper: his own. Bilbo laughed, closing it and tucking it away in his breast-pocket.

"I could do with more portraits, don't want to forget my youth one day!"

Thranduil stood on the parapet walls of Dale, gazing at the Lonely Mountain as it glowed orange in the rising sun. He lost an asset, a dangerous asset. Ithildae Orquwen walked Middle-Earth freely, already having loyalty to her being and a bloodline to claim it. The Elven King exhaled. It would be a waste of immortal life to go after her.

"Lord Thranduil,"

He cocked his head, listening.

"Tauriel," he greeted coolly.

The ex-Captain of the Guard came forward, head lowered out of respect.

"I wish to speak to you."

"Of Ithildae?" He mused.

Her chin lifted and her shoulders tightened.

"Yes, and of her seamstress."

"What of Thalias?" He quipped, face tightening.

"She rides with Mithrandir and the Hobbit… Back to his native lands."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, a horse, a pony, their riders, and a wizard could be seen meandering on the horizon.

"The culprits flee their crime," he spoke into the wind.

Tauriel came to his side, jaw tense and her eyes unreadable.

"They freed Ithildae and her male?"

"It was either them, or you." Thranduil pinned her with a frigid stare.

The She-Elf gulped.

"If I had let her go, I would not so freely approach you," she replied in a careful pitch.

The King sighed, looking to the ground and letting his eyes roam the hills to the east.

"Should I go after the Hobbit, my lord?" Tauriel said after a time of silence.

"You are no longer a part of my kingdom, Tauriel. You may do as you see fit."

Sadness flitted across her eyes.

"I wish to find Ithildae,"

"And do what?" A slight mock in his voice, "Wrangle her and her followers to follow you here? You do not have the gut to kill her, or the strength to contain her."

"See if she can accomplish what she hopes to," Tauriel whispered her reply.

Thranduil gazed at the Elleth, realizing her intentions.

"I advise you to watch your back, return and report to me if you see dangerous beginnings."

She bowed and acknowledged him.

"You shouldn't tell Legolas," he turned and told her as she paced down the battlement, "I fear he would follow you and never return."

Tauriel's deep green eyes welled with tears, her back to her former king.

A part of her wished he would.

It did not take the Elf long to gather a suitable number of tools for her survival: lembas, ropes, a heavy cloak, extra clothes; Tauriel armed herself to the teeth with daggers, arrows, and a bow, she would not leave without the means to mend a string or fletching on her arrows.

Picking up a trail at the site of the city wall, Tauriel inhaled and exhaled, staring at the snowy, rotting battlefield in front of her… and the rolling hills in the distance. For a while she picked her way among corpses, the faint tracks in the snow gave her a clear trail.

Until it stopped at the gaping entrance of a tunnel, where the beasts of the earth had given way to the legions of Dol Guldur. Tauriel stared into the darkness, and turned away. In truth, she was in no hurry to find them, for they posed no immediate threat. No matter what Thranduil said, Ithildae would not gather an army to her side for the sake of power.

In the shade of a distant ravine, Tauriel halted and sat on an icy rock, filling her canteen with the water from a brook bubbling out of the earth. It was in the pristine surface of the water that she saw her reflection: paled and weary, her long hair knotting and the wisps flew away around her face. She was unraveled, Tauriel realized.

The Elleth she was could not exist in these harsh lands.

The gentle sound of a sliding blade sang in the ravine, and moments later Tauriel walked from the shade into the untouched hills of winter and left behind a pile of amber hair, soaking in the stream. The brunt ends of her shoulder length hair danced around her face in the brittle wind of this new life she challenged.


Hello I have returned, finishing up the story in a few chapters... it's so bittersweet now.

Also, I wanted to address the fact that Kiliel did not occur in the magnitude it did in the movie, sorry but that was just not my thing. Keeping Tauriel the strong and independent female character she should have been :/

Thank you for all the continued support! Pls review so my needy heart will be happy.