âžł BEARDEDBOWMAN
     An elf drew forth through the crowd of humans. They stared at her, as if she were a myth: a being who was meant only for fairy tales and warnings, and yet she was here.      With each step she takes, she knows that she doesn’t belong in this crowd of dying people. Such frail things, scattering around her like animals of the woodlands, afraid. She did nothing to calm any who were obviously discomforted by her being here. Tauriel knew that the last time these people saw an Elf it only gave way to dragons-fire, death, ruin, and war. That’s why she didn’t stop. As cold and cruel as she seemed, she didn’t stop because she didn’t want to effect their blip of peace.      Evergreen eyes saw past long lashes to the house she sought. It had been years, and even though she was perfect compared to humans, she was far worse. Elves weren’t meant to be alone. To roam alone. To fight alone. To exist alone. Elves weren’t meant to draw blood and crave war, and at one time in her life, she didn’t. She wanted song and merriment, the privileged to dance immortal in the beautiful woodlands and to court whomever she wished when the time came, if it came. It had been a decade since the Battle for Mirkwood. She had traveled to help Legolas build Ilithien, but honestly... she knew it was only temporary and she didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong anywhere, except for right now, there was hope she could belong within that house with a being who understood.      Without giving any emotions away, the Elf moved with grace up the stairs to the doorway and she did the most human thing she had done in years, she knocked.
