taurielelfofmirkwood:

“I know that it is hard,” Tauriel started slowly, “But there is a time to worry about these things, and that time, admittedly, is surely not far away,” she slowly looked up at him, her gaze intense, but with a certain kindness to it, “But on this evening, in this moment, try and let your heart be at ease.” Her last words were a kind of gentle plea, for she worried that Bard would blame the recent events on himself, and she knew from bitter experience that it would do no good.

Silence filled the air, but not an awkward one. It seemed to Tauriel that it was one of contemplation, and there was perhaps, a certain content feeling to the situation, where the she-elf felt like she was welcome, and no thoughts plagued her mind that she was doing the wrong thing.

Glancing down, she realised that her hand was still gently grasping Bard’s, and she pulled it away, perhaps a little sharply, and shifted her gaze back up to meet his, “My apologies,” she murmend, casting her eyes to the ground in slight embarrassment at the prolonged gesture, the worries now slowly creeping into her thought pattern, running in a constant stream across her mind. Why had she even taken his hand in the first place? What good would it do? Something nagged at the back of Tauriel’s mind, that maybe he wouldn’t mind about her taking his hand, but the young elf had always worried what others might think of her. That much was obvious, going by her troubled expression. 

_{“You are very kind,” Bard spoke quietly in return, and he meant it. Her words of consolation would bring no rest to his mind and heart tonight, but the compassion in her voice and eyes was deeply appreciated, even so.}

_{“Will you return to Mirkwood soon, now that the orc party has been hunted down and the dwarf has been saved from certain death?” he questioned, keenly aware of the absence of her hand on his as he opened the door to her room and walked inside, lantern in hand. He ought to return to his own room and leave her to her rest, but with the events of the evening he had barely had any chance to speak with the she-elf. It certainly was not every day that her kind came down to Esgaroth.}