Beneath the Stars Chapter 23
After the battle, Tauriel struggles to find a place in the world. With the War of the Ring on the horizon and her past haunting her footsteps, she must find a way to keep her hope even in these dark hours and find a home where she truly belongs.
Characters: Tauriel, Thranduil, Midhel (OC), Iesteth (OC), Hithwen (OC), Urphen (OC)
Tauriel cried out and rushed forward. “Gwelonir!” she sobbed.
Hithwen looked up, her eyes blank with grief. Iesteth cried softly, her eyes red-rimmed with tears.
“What—?” Tauriel broke off, a sob overcoming her. Gwelonir was dead? No. No, he couldn’t be! He had just wished her good night and good luck the night before… But here he was, his body broken and lifeless. Dead.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“We were…out on the edge of the battle,” Iesteth whispered. “Carrying an injured warrior to safety. Then, an orc—an orc appeared out of nowhere, and Father, he—” She sobbed. “The orc got him. Luckily, another warrior came along, but…it was too late.”
Tears streaming down her face, Tauriel fell to her knees, all thoughts of the raging battle gone from her mind. Gwelonir was dead. The world crashed down upon her, and she felt the awful weight of her loss crushing her. She had not felt this much pain since—since KĂli’s death.
Gwelonir stared up at her, his eyes glassy in death. For a brief, painful moment, Tauriel’s mind flashed back to sixty years ago, as she stared helplessly into KĂli’s eyes as the life was crushed out of him by Bolg.
Something inside her hardened. This battle was not over. She suddenly remembered Midhel, bleeding at her feet. Gwelonir and KĂli may be dead, but she could still save Midhel.
“Iesteth, Hithwen—” she began. For the first time, Iesteth’s eyes flicked to the crumpled body at Tauriel’s feet. She gasped.
“Midhel!” she cried. She abandoned her parents and rushed to her wife.
“She’s not dead,” Tauriel said, “but she needs your help.”
Hithwen’s eyes were still blank in shock. Slowly, her gaze drifted from Gwelonir to Tauriel, before finally settling on Midhel. She opened her mouth and moved to join Iesteth.
Tauriel stepped aside as the two healers began their frantic, life-saving work. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched them feverishly bandage Midhel and apply salves to her still-bleeding wound.
After a few minutes, Iesteth glanced up at Tauriel. “Go,” she urged, even as she passed more bandages to Hithwen. “You cannot help here, Tauriel, and the battle rages on. Midhel will not be able to rejoin the fight. You must tell Thranduil—he will need a new captain.”
Tauriel hesitated. “Will she be alright?” she asked.
“Go,” Iesteth said forcefully. Tears filled her eyes, and she did not answer Tauriel’s question.
Her heart in her throat, Tauriel nodded. Iesteth was right. She would be far more useful out on the battlefield. She left the tent and raced back into the fray, searching for Thranduil’s elk.
All around her, flames appeared. Someone—or something—had set the forest ablaze. Trees burned, branches crackled. Heat seared Tauriel’s face, but she paid it no mind.
At last, amid the burning trees, Tauriel caught sight of King Thranduil aside his giant elk. She fought her way toward him, killing orcs mercilessly and dodging fallen branches.
“Thranduil!” she cried out, not bothering with titles.
He spun his elk around, decapitating an orc as he did so. Even in the midst of battle, he looked every inch the king he was. His long blond hair was stained with soot and blood, his armor was torn, and his noble steed trembled, bleeding from many wounds. Yet the glow of battle shone in his blue eyes, causing Tauriel to shiver. This was the Thranduil of old she served: strong, wise, fierce, and regal.
“My lord, Midhel has been gravely injured,” she told him. An orc rushed toward her. Only half-turning, she drew her bow and shot it. “Her company goes unled!”
Thranduil frowned. “Is she being treated?”
“Yes,” Tauriel confirmed. Another orc swarmed towards them. This time, it was Thranduil who dispatched it.
“Tauriel, I appoint you Captain of the Guard and captain of that company,” Thranduil ordered, “until Midhel recovers or else dies, under which circumstance you shall assume the title fully.”
Tauriel gasped, shocked he would reinstate her after all she had done, but she did not argue. The old fire reignited inside her, and she gripped her weapons with a new purpose. This was what she was meant for. This was her calling, her duty, her passion.
“Yes, my lord,” she said, bowing deeply to Thranduil. What remained of her resentment and anger toward her king dissipated at long last. He had changed, and so had she. She lived to serve him and to protect her home, and she felt again the strength of the bond between her and her king. “Thank you.”
One glance into Thranduil’s blue eyes filled her with a fervent drive. He smiled down at her briefly, then took a deep breath.
“Khamûl has escaped me,” he said. “He hides in the towers of Dol Guldur. We must storm the fortress and drive him out of the forest.”
Tauriel nodded. “Yes, my king.”
Thranduil shook his elk’s reins. “Go, Tauriel!” he ordered. The elk raced away across the bridge, running over orcs in its wake. A few unfortunate elves flattened themselves to the walls of the bridge to avoid being trampled.
Tauriel raced back into the ravine. “To me!” she cried out. “Midhel is injured, and I am captain now! To me, elves of the Greenwood, to me! Over the walls!”
Though a few elves looked at her in confusion, they sensed that she meant business and obeyed her commands. The elves abandoned their battles and began to swarm the walls of Dol Guldur.
Tauriel felt a rush of elation. She had missed being in charge. Though she yearned for Midhel’s recovery, she was glad to be captain again.
Tauriel breached the wall first. She waded in orc blood and danced over dead bodies, leaving death in her path. She was full of the fires of battle. Nothing could stop her.
She saw Thranduil, no longer atop his elk, battling Khamûl on the highest tower of Dol Guldur. The Nazgul’s hideous beast lay slain in the ravine, crushing elves and orcs alike beneath its carcass.
Tauriel fought for what felt like an age, totally focused on the battle. She saw her friends fighting alongside her. Orelon grappled with an orc twice his size, until she shot it through the throat. He returned the favor only a few minutes later, knifing a sneaky orc in the back as she faced its friend.
Ăšrphen mirrored her orders, directing their company over the opposite wall. Dol Guldur was so packed with elves and orcs that it was hard to move without killing someone. Tauriel found that this made slaying orcs easier, though she had to be careful not to be killed herself.
As it was, the orcs were so numerous that she felt they would never fail. She pressed forward grimly, but for every orc she killed, two more appeared in its place.
Tauriel found herself backed into a wall. Orcs surrounded her on all sides. She thought she saw Glándir fighting his way to her aid, but he was too far away. She killed and killed, but orcs broke through her guard, landing blows on her arms and shoulders. Still, she fought on, but her wounds bled and a creeping despair slowly overcame her.
An orc cut her bow in two. Tauriel cried out in despair. As she did so, another orc raised its jagged blade and swung. She only barely ducked in time, fumbling with her last remaining knife. All the others had been lost in the fray.
A third orc sliced at her arm, while the first raised its spear and the second prepared to strike her again. Tauriel was caught between the three of them. Her mind raced. No matter what she did, she would be hurt, perhaps even killed. She was stuck.
Before anyone could strike, a shuddering, high-pitched cry shook the fortress. The orcs, mid-swing, faltered. Everyone turned to look as Khamûl fell from the tower.
Tauriel gasped. Thranduil stood at the edge of the tower, the light of the burning forest illuminating his fury. Below, there was a thud as Khamûl hit the ground.
Somewhere, an elf let out a ragged cheer. The orcs, suddenly leaderless, froze. Tauriel slipped away from her three captors and quickly dispatched them as they stared in shock at the body of their fallen leader.
Orcs fell around her, the elves finally turning the tide. Without orders, the orc army fell apart. As many orcs as could escape the blades of the elves rushed away, fleeing from their enemies at last.
Tauriel chased orcs for hours, until at last there were only a few stragglers left. Dol Guldur had been cleansed at last. A storm blew in, and the rain quenched the fires in the forest. Tauriel felt much like the smoldering trees: relieved, injured, and exhausted.
Thranduil ordered his warriors to be healed, and then for his captains to report to him. Tauriel was not seriously injured, but she was dizzy and bleeding from several minor wounds. She trudged back to the campsite, where healers buzzed with activity, going about their work. Several offered to take her in, but she refused, instead heading to Hithwen’s tent.
When she peered in, she saw that Gwelonir’s body had been wrapped in a sheet. A pang of sorrow shook her body, and she felt tears bud fresh in her eyes. She forced her grief aside. There would be time for mourning later.
When she caught sight of Midhel’s still form, Tauriel’s heart nearly broke. “No!” she cried out, her loss indescribable. “Midhel!” She had done all she could, and still her friend lay lifeless before her…
“Tauriel,” Iesteth said. She rose and embraced her, hugging her tightly. Tauriel sobbed into her foster sister’s shoulder.
“Iesteth,” she whispered, taking strength from her.
“Tauriel, what’s wrong?” Iesteth asked. She sounded exhausted, and Tauriel did not blame her. To lose one’s wife and father in the same day… She could scarcely imagine.
“Midhel,” Tauriel said. “She’s…”
“Oh,” Iesteth said. To Tauriel’s surprise, she laughed softly. “Tauriel, it’s alright. She looks bad, but she’s just sleeping. We’ll have to watch her, but she’s going to be okay.”
“I…what?” Tauriel said, her heart lifting. Midhel was alive? “She’s not dead?”
“She’s still with us,” Iesteth confirmed. She let go of her foster sister and gave her a wobbly smile. “And you are, too. Come—let me and Mother tend your wounds.”
When Tauriel was patched up, she slowly got to her feet. Though every bone in her body ached, she still had to report to Thranduil.
“I can scarcely believe you’re a captain again,” Hithwen said as Tauriel prepared to go. “I would have thought you’d never get near such a position again.”
“The king and I have talked out our differences,” Tauriel explained. “I was surprised, too…but there is no denying that I am a capable leader.” She smiled.
“Don’t move too quickly,” Iesteth warned her, “and try not to offend the king again, now that you’re back in his good graces.”
Tauriel laughed. “I have not changed all that much, Iesteth.”
Iesteth raised an eyebrow. “I know. That’s what worries me.”
Thranduil waited for her by where the bridge met the mainland. Ăšrphen was already there, finishing their report.
“My lord,” Tauriel greeted Thranduil. She nodded to Úrphen. They nodded back.
“Tauriel,” Thranduil said. “I am glad to see you are well.”
“As well as I can be, your majesty,” she said.
“There is only so much to discuss, as I told Úrphen,” Thranduil said. “My troops fought bravely today. I will congratulate them myself this evening, but it will not hurt for their captains to show their appreciation as well. I am proud of you both.” He gave them each a rare smile.
“Thank you, my lord,” Úrphen murmured. Tauriel only nodded, warmth spreading through her chest.
“There is still much work to be done here,” Thranduil continued. He indicated to the mess of blood and corpses that marred the once-beautiful landscape. “The rain has quenched the fire and washed some of the blood away, but we must still deal with what is left. Tauriel, tomorrow morning, have your remaining force clear this place of orc bodies. We will burn them on the other side of the fortress, where the fire has already ravished the forest. Úrphen, your force will gather the bodies of our comrades for proper burial.”
Tauriel nodded. Cleaning up was her least favorite part of a battle. She hated dealing with the stench of orc corpses, but she did not know if she could bear seeing the faces of her dead friends. Úrphen’s job was also unpleasant.
“My lord, that still leaves your own company,” Úrphen pointed out.
“They will aid you,” Thranduil said.
Tauriel frowned. “But, my lord—” She stopped, aware that Thranduil’s gaze had turned cold.
“What is it, Tauriel?” he asked. “Speak carefully. I have forgiven you, but I have not forgotten the things you spoke to me before.”
Tauriel nodded. “Yes, my lord. With all due respect, this battle may be won, but the greater war is not yet over.” She thought of Legolas, fighting along the dwindling forces of the Rohirrim and the Galadhrim. “Dale, Gondor, and Lothlórien will doubtless still face assaults, and though we have cleansed the heart of the evil, there are doubtless still orcs in this forest.”
Thranduil’s expression was impassive as she continued. “Your majesty, you have three companies here, still battle-worthy. After we dispose of this mess, could we not continue onward? There are other kingdoms who could use our forces in this war.”
For a few tense moments, Thranduil only stared at her, his eyes narrowed and calculating. Ăšrphen looked at her with wide eyes, doubtless frightened on her behalf.
“Tauriel,” Thranduil said at last, “I am glad you proposed this idea. Indeed, we are not the only stronghold the orcs have attacked. Khamûl is a Nazgul. Though I searched for his remains in the forest, I found nothing but a burned and tattered robe. He is still alive, no doubt crawling back to Sauron before the final confrontation. You are right: the Battle Under Trees is over, but the war is not. Yes, I will send aid to the other free peoples of Middle-earth. But first, we must cleanse this place.”
“Yes, my lord,” Tauriel agreed, relieved. “Of course.”
“This day marks a glorious victory,” Thranduil proclaimed. “There is still more fighting before we can claim victory in this war, but the tide is turning against the forces of evil. A new year of the elves is rising, and we will rise with it!” He smiled, and Tauriel smiled back at him. Beside her, Úrphen nodded fiercely.
“Now go,” Thranduil said, “and spread word of our plans to your troops.” He paused, then added, “I am proud of you both. Úrphen, you have proved yourself a worthy captain, and Tauriel…you have shown your loyalty once again.”
Tauriel bowed to him. “I am glad to serve you once more.”
Chapter 1; Chapter 22; Chapter 24
