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Years had passed since the Battle of the Five Armies, yet the memory of Kili lingered in Tauriel’s heart as vividly as the day she’d held him in her arms, watching the light leave his eyes. For mortals, time would eventually dull the pain, but for elves, time stretched endlessly. Tauriel had no respite from her grief. She wandered the forests alone, growing quieter and more withdrawn, even from her kin.
Legolas noticed it first—the way she grew colder, her steps slower. He voiced his concerns to his father, Thranduil, who merely sighed, understanding all too well what was happening.
“She is fading,” Thranduil finally told his son. “Her grief ties her to this world, yet it consumes her spirit. She cannot sustain herself this way.”
Legolas was heartbroken. He confronted her, begging her to let go of her pain. “Tauriel, you are stronger than this. You have all of us—your kin, your people. Please, let us help you heal.”
But Tauriel only smiled sadly. “It is not something you can heal, Legolas. I gave my heart to him, and it remains with him.”
Her moments of weakness grew worse. There were times when her vision blurred, the world fading to black, and she felt weightless, as though caught between worlds. She never knew how long the spells lasted or what happened during them. Each time, she would awaken in her chambers, disoriented and cold.
What she didn’t realize was that during these moments, her fading spirit breached the veil between life and death, appearing briefly in the Halls of Mandos—specifically, near Kili.
One evening in the Halls of Mandos, Kili sat quietly at the long stone table, his heart content yet a bit weary from the endless revelry that filled the Halls of Mandos. His family surrounded him, the sounds of laughter and stories lifting his spirits in a way he hadn’t expected after death. Thorin’s hearty voice filled the room as he spoke of Erebor’s glory days, and Fili was laughing at some lighthearted comment from their cousin Durin. But as the warmth of the conversation swirled around him, Kili felt something shift in the air—something he couldn’t name but knew in the depths of his being.
He turned to look toward the entrance, his heart skipping a beat.
There she stood, like a mirage—her fiery red hair, bright against the shadowed stone walls, glowing faintly in the dim light. Tauriel.
His breath caught, and time seemed to slow. The vibrant memories of their fleeting moments together in life flashed through his mind—their shared glances, the touch of her hand against his, and the sweet words they’d exchanged when their worlds had once seemed so full of promise. She was distant now, her form fading in and out like a wisp of smoke, but he knew it was her. He could feel it deep in his bones.
“Tauriel?” Kili whispered, his voice breaking as he stood.
The laughter at the table stopped immediately, the warmth of the moment turning cold with the sharpness of confusion. Dis furrowed her brow, looking at Kili with concern, and Thorin’s hand paused mid-motion, his face darkening as he too turned toward the ghostly figure in the distance.
Tauriel took a slow step forward, but she seemed unaware of their presence, her eyes vacant, her form flickering. As she moved, Kili’s heart raced. He took a step forward, his hands trembling.
“No, wait!” he called desperately. “Tauriel!”
He reached out, his fingers barely brushing the air between them, but in that instant, she disappeared. Her form shattered into the very air itself, her presence leaving only a fading echo, like a soft breeze slipping through his grasp.
Kili stood frozen in place, the weight of her absence crashing over him in waves. His chest heaved, and for a long moment, all he could do was stand there, staring at the spot where she had been.
Thorin’s voice broke the silence. “Kili… was that—”
“It was her,” Kili said, his voice hoarse, heart heavy with the confusion and sorrow he had long buried. He couldn’t look away from the empty space, the stillness that remained after her departure. “It was her.”
Dis’s brow furrowed deeper. “Why would an elf appear here?” she asked, the sharpness of her tone betraying the worry beneath it. “What is this madness?”
Kili turned toward her, his eyes wide with an intensity that matched the turmoil inside him. “I don’t know. But she’s here. She’s reaching for me, somehow. I… I don’t understand.”
For a long while, there was only silence. Then Dis, ever perceptive, crossed the room to her son’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was firm, comforting despite the uncertainty that hung heavy in the air. “Kili… the elf maiden is not like us. She is bound by different rules, different griefs. If she has come to us, she must be lost.”
“But why now?” Kili asked, his voice almost pleading. “Why is she so far from the living? Why can’t she be here with me? Why won’t she stay?”
Dis looked at him for a long moment, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and understanding. “Because, son, she is as torn as you are. But it is not the time for her. Perhaps… she seeks a way to heal. Perhaps she is reaching out, needing the comfort she once found in your presence.”
Kili clenched his fists, his chest tight with emotion. He couldn’t explain what was happening, but something inside him told him that this was not the end. He turned back to the space where Tauriel had vanished. “I will find a way to bring her back,” he whispered, the vow lingering in the air like a promise neither he nor his family could deny.
Another time was in the forge. The rhythmic sound of Kili’s hammer striking the hot metal echoed in the quiet of the forge, each blow falling in perfect synchronization with his thoughts. The fire’s heat blazed in front of him, its orange glow dancing across the walls, casting long, shifting shadows. He’d spent hours here, lost in the soothing routine of the forge, a welcome distraction from the grief that never seemed to leave him.
But the calm was shattered when a faint sound reached his ears—an almost imperceptible rustle, like the whisper of a breeze through leaves. Kili’s brow furrowed, his hammer pausing mid-swing as he turned his head, sensing something, someone. His heart skipped a beat. There, just beyond the forge, stood Tauriel.
His breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Her form was faint, flickering like a shadow caught between light and darkness. Her fiery hair, once vibrant and full of life, now shimmered like an ethereal halo. She was there, but not fully there—almost a vision, a ghost. But no matter how impossible it seemed, Kili knew with every fiber of his being that it was her.
"Tauriel…" Kili’s voice barely broke the silence, shaking with a mixture of disbelief and hope. His hammer slipped from his hand, falling with a clatter to the anvil as his entire focus honed in on her. His pulse quickened, his heart beating in a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos inside him.
Tauriel's emerald eyes met his, filled with a deep sadness that made his chest tighten. The sadness mirrored his own, but there was something else in her gaze—something he couldn’t fully place. It was as if she was caught in a place between the living and the dead, trapped between longing and pain, unable to fully reach him. The sight of her so close, yet so unreachable, almost broke him.
"Tauriel!" Kili’s voice broke as he stepped toward her, his arms reaching out, desperate to bridge the space between them. His feet moved without thinking, his mind consumed by the overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms, to feel her warmth again, to know she was real.
Every step he took brought him closer to the vision, but at the same time, it felt as though the distance between them only grew. Tauriel’s form flickered, her presence wavering like a candle caught in a gust of wind.
"No, no, don't go!" Kili cried, his voice raw, pleading. His chest ached with a mix of yearning and sorrow, the weight of the grief that had been growing inside him for so long threatening to overwhelm him completely. He reached forward, his hands trembling as they neared her.
But before he could touch her, before he could feel the comfort of her warmth, she began to dissolve, her form turning into nothing more than a shimmering outline against the flickering firelight.
“No… please!” Kili’s voice was thick with desperation, his fingers stretching out in vain, his body trembling with the effort to reach her. The forge, the heat, the hammer—everything around him felt distant now. It was just him, standing in the midst of an overwhelming emptiness that seemed to consume him whole.
Tauriel’s fading figure turned, her face softening as if to say something to him, but the words never came. With one final, heart-wrenching shimmer, she disappeared into the air, leaving nothing behind but the sound of his own ragged breaths. The firelight seemed to dim, as if even the flames mourned her absence.
Kili stood frozen, his arms still outstretched, his body trembling as though he had just been torn in two. His throat tightened, and the familiar, hollow ache in his chest returned, deeper than before. She was gone again.
“No…” Kili whispered to himself, as if repeating the word could somehow change reality. He staggered back, his heart heavy with the crushing weight of loss. His hands clenched at his sides, the desperation still pulsing through his veins.
How was he supposed to keep going like this? How could he face another day knowing that the one person he loved, the one person he had given everything for, was slipping farther and farther away from him with each passing moment?
His eyes welled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. There was no time for tears, not now. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not when he didn’t even know what was happening to him—to them.
But in the pit of his heart, Kili knew the truth. Each time she appeared, each time he reached for her and failed to keep her, he was slowly losing her, piece by piece. He could feel her fading just as surely as he felt his own soul weakening. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.
With a heavy sigh, Kili bent down to pick up his hammer. The weight of the metal in his hand felt strangely cold, as if it, too, mourned the loss of the dream he’d clung to so desperately. He could only return to the forge and lose himself in the rhythm of the work again, hoping—praying—that the next time she appeared, he would find a way to keep her close, to make her stay.
The worst, most awkward time was something he would choose to forget if he could. The chamber was dimly lit, the glow of a single candle flickering against the stone walls. Kili sat in solitude, the weight of the day lifting off his shoulders as he finally allowed himself a moment of rest. His thoughts, as they often did, wandered to Tauriel. Her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her touch—everything about her was etched in his mind, a memory he couldn't seem to shake, no matter how much time passed.
As he sat in the quiet of the room, his thoughts became more intense. He remembered the way her touch had felt, the softness of her skin, the way she fit perfectly against him. His longing grew with each passing moment, becoming something he could no longer ignore.
The ache in his chest was overwhelming, and before he knew it, his hand had moved of its own accord, instinctively seeking the comfort of release. Kili’s mind briefly registered a warning—this is not the time—but the warmth of the memory of her was far too strong. He couldn’t help it.
But just as the tension grew unbearable, something shifted in the air. Kili froze, a shiver running down his spine. His heart lurched. He wasn’t alone. Opening his eyes, Kili’s breath caught in his throat. There, standing in the doorway, was Tauriel.
His mind went blank. He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he scrambled to cover himself, his brain desperately trying to process the situation. His fingers fumbled with his trousers in a way that would make even the most awkward dwarf blush.
“Tauriel!” Kili gasped, his voice breaking in surprise, and it was definitely not the cool, collected tone he’d hoped for. His body seemed to betray him entirely. The more he tried to cover himself, the more clumsy and panicked he became.
Tauriel blinked in wide-eyed shock, her form flickering in the dim light, almost as if she, too, were trying to process the bizarre scene unfolding before her. Her translucent figure shimmered, and Kili could have sworn her ethereal form turned slightly pink, though that could just have been the embarrassment radiating from him.
“Oh no,” Kili muttered to himself, his hands still desperately trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but failing miserably. “I’m not even sure this is real.”
Tauriel’s expression shifted from shock to something akin to embarrassment, her eyes widening even more, and for a split second, her form flickered like a flame caught in the wind.
Kili froze, hoping that if he stood completely still, she might just… vanish. But, no such luck. She was still there, looking at him with a face that screamed, What in all of Mandos is going on here?
Kili swallowed, wishing he could dig a hole in the floor and crawl into it. “I—uh—didn’t expect… you to—uh, show up, like this.” His words came out in a string of awkward stammers, his brain finally catching up with reality. “I mean, you, here… in my room… at this moment…”
Tauriel blinked again, and just as Kili thought things couldn’t get worse, she began to fade. But not in the graceful, noble way she usually did. No, this time it was a sudden flicker, like a candle about to burn out, as though even she wanted to escape this uncomfortable situation.
“No! Wait!” Kili cried, but it was too late. She vanished with a soft shimmer, leaving him standing there, his trousers half-abandoned, his dignity in tatters. Kili let out a groan of frustration, dropping his head into his hands. “Mahal, save me…” His voice was muffled by his palms, but there was no hiding the cringe that accompanied the words. “Really? This is how it goes?”
For a moment, he just stood there, eyes wide with the sheer awkwardness of it all. The absurdity of the situation hit him with full force. Of course it would happen like this. After all the longing, all the grief, all the deep, soul-wrenching yearning he had for her—this was the reunion he got. A moment of pure, mortifying humiliation.
He threw himself back onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. “I’m so screwed.”
A few seconds later, Kili sat up with a frustrated groan. “What was I supposed to do, though?” he muttered aloud. “Not think about her for a moment? Not yearn for her?” He paused, face burning again. “Okay, maybe that part was a mistake.”
But just as the weight of his embarrassment started to set in, Kili had to chuckle. The ridiculousness of it all—the fact that he’d been completely caught off guard—was so overwhelmingly human, so incredibly awkward, that he couldn’t help but laugh.
"Great. Just great, Kili," he said to himself, shaking his head with a smile. "You're the first dwarf in the history of Middle-earth to get caught like this by a ghost."
He sighed deeply, looking at the door as though waiting for it to burst open again. “I need to talk to someone about this. Or maybe... never speak of this again.”
With that, he buried himself in his blanket, trying to push away the thought of her flickering face and wondering whether there would be a next time... or if he was doomed to have these awkward, ghostly encounters forever.
The final time she appeared, she was near Dis. Kili’s mother was walking in the gardens when Tauriel materialized, faint and ghostly. Dis stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing.
“You again,” Dis said, her tone sharp. “Why do you haunt us, elf? What do you want?”
Tauriel turned to her, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I do not mean to intrude,” she said softly. “I do not even know if this is real. I only… I only long to be near him.”
Dis’s stern expression softened slightly. “Why? What is it you hope to gain?”
Tauriel hesitated. “Elves fade when their grief becomes too great. My soul is unmoored, drawn to him even beyond the veil of death. I… I loved him. I still love him. I miss him desperately.”
Dis studied her for a long moment. “You would fade for him?”
Tauriel nodded. “I believe I am.”
Dis sighed heavily. “Then perhaps… perhaps you are not so different from us after all.”
The gardens of the Halls of Mandos were peaceful, a place where time seemed to slow, and the air was thick with the scent of flowers that never wilting. It was a rare moment of calm in the afterlife, and many dwarves sought solace in the green spaces that surrounded the great stone halls. The sunless sky overhead, ever dim and eternal, cast a soft glow over the carefully tended plants, giving everything a serene and almost dreamlike quality.
Tauriel stood at the edge of a stone path, her form fully solid for the first time since her arrival in the Halls. Her feet, once adrift in the realm between life and death, now pressed firmly against the cool stone, the texture beneath her feet as real as it had ever been. She marveled at the sensation. She could feel the gentle breeze on her face, and the rustling of leaves around her was no longer distant—it was here, surrounding her.
Her breath came in quiet, labored gasps as she allowed herself to fully absorb the moment. The last vestiges of her fading had vanished, and she was here. Solid. Tears welled in her eyes as her hands moved instinctively to her chest, as if to remind herself that she was still breathing, still real. And there, just before her, stood the path to Kili’s reunion.
But before she could take another step, a sudden loud crash broke through her thoughts—a heavy thud followed by a clattering of boots. A dwarf, unfamiliar to Tauriel and standing off to the side of the path, had hurriedly rounded a corner and collided with her, his broad chest hitting her side with force.
“By Mahal’s beard!” the dwarf grumbled as he staggered back, his face turning bright red with embarrassment. He looked up, startled, to see the not-shimmering figure of the elf maiden—her form now fully realized and standing before him. Since her first appearance at the dinner, every dwarf in the halls had learned about the odd relationship between the young prince and the elf ghost that had been appearing.
His wide eyes met hers, and for a moment, both of them froze.
“You—” the dwarf stammered, his voice shaking with excitement and disbelief. “You’re—she’s—” He blinked rapidly, clearly trying to make sense of the sight before him. He took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You’re here!”
Tauriel smiled softly, her voice gentle but thick with emotion. “I am here.”
The dwarf, overcome with a mix of shock and joy, suddenly snapped out of his stunned silence. His eyes lit up, and a grin spread across his face. “I must get Kili!” he exclaimed with a loud burst of energy. “I must!” Without another word, the dwarf turned on his heel and bolted down the garden path, his boots slapping against the stone in a hurried, desperate rhythm. His excitement, though, seemed to be driving him with a recklessness that only grew as he reached a bend in the path.
And then, in the most spectacularly clumsy way possible, he tripped over his own feet. “Oof!” he grunted, landing face-first into the soft grass. He scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his beard as he clutched his side.
Unbothered by the fall, the dwarf quickly recovered, wiping the dirt from his hands. He glanced back toward the garden with a wide grin. “Aye, I must get him to the gardens!” he muttered to himself, already running off again.
Kili sat in the midst of his family, sharing a drink with Fili and their father as Thorin discussed the many matters of Erebor he would have resolved—when a sudden shout from across the hall cut through the calm.
“Kili! KILI!” The voice was deep and full of excitement. It belonged to a dwarf not often seen in the company of the Durins. His name was Bruni, a rough-hewn warrior who had traveled far in his time. “Your elf maid! She’s—she’s in the gardens!”
Kili’s heart jolted at the mention of the garden. He stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the jug of mead that had been resting before him. His gaze shot to his brother Fili, his eyes wide with disbelief and hope.
“What do you mean? Is it—” Kili began, his words thick with anticipation.
Bruni, breathless and red-faced from his sprint, didn’t hesitate to continue. “I ran right into her! I literally ran into her in the garden!” he exclaimed, eyes still gleaming with shock. “Kili, she’s no ghost! She's solid! I—I don’t know how or why, but there she was, standing right before me, as clear as the sky.”
Kili’s pulse quickened, and for a moment, he could hardly breathe. His gaze flicked to his father and then to his brother, his voice trembling as he shouted. “Tauriel is in the gardens?”
Thorin rose from his seat, concern knitting his brow. “Are you sure? Do not rush off too–”
“I must go to her!” Kili cried, cutting him off. His chest ached with a need that had long been dormant, and in that moment, it felt like all the walls that had held him together crumbled away. He turned toward the doors of the hall.
Fili was already standing, his hand on Kili’s shoulder. “We’ll go together. All of us.”
Bruni, nodding frantically, said, “I’ll show you where I left her!” He started toward the doors, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to lead them.
Without hesitation, Kili, Fili, Thorin, and Dis followed. The weight of the moment made each step feel as though it could shatter the very air around them. The family moved swiftly through the halls, a unified force with one purpose in mind: to reunite Kili with the one person he had longed for since the moment she had vanished from his life.
The family arrived at the gardens in a whirlwind of motion. As soon as Kili’s eyes locked onto Tauriel’s form—her fiery hair swaying gently in the garden breeze—his heart surged. “Tauriel!” he cried out, breathless, as he broke into a run. His feet carried him swiftly down the stone path, the world narrowing to only her.
Her tear-filled eyes met his, and a soft smile tugged at her lips, as though she had been waiting for this moment for far too long.
The rest of the family followed, Fili’s close behind his brother’s back, Dis’ face pale with disbelief, and Thorin walking behind them, a quiet pride in his eyes. When Kili reached her, he didn’t hesitate. He closed the space between them, his hands cupping her face, his fingers trembling as he touched her, afraid she would slip away if he let go. Lips meeting in desperation.
“You’re here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re really here.”
Tauriel’s smile widened, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, her tears flowed freely. “I’m here,” she replied softly, her voice steady with an unspoken promise. Kili pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he could never let go again. His heart raced, and the world around them—his family, the gardens, the very air—faded into the background.
Nothing else mattered except for the one thing he had waited for: the return of the love he had thought lost forever.
And in that moment, he knew that no matter what the future held, he would never again let her go.