Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing here holding her old gear felt both familiar and off. Time passed, Tauriel had changed, but the arrow shafts still held scratches from the last time she missed the target, and the chest guard was readily adjusted perfectly to her size. A feeling vaguely similar to visiting your old home, putting on your old pj's and falling asleep under unicorn-themed covers. Everything is at the same time perfectly fitting and no longer really yours.  

On the day she went to retrieve her equipment from the storage unit, she found everything in neat piles of dust bags and cases. The riser was definitely the heart of the bow to her, and as such it had seen a lot of use, but no one would be able to tell by its condition. The limbs required tuning to their lowest draw weight, something she saved for use only after an injury or longer periods with no training. That is to say, she never had to really use it before. The arrows were an almost complete set, but the leather finger tab and string she could not find, and so had to get new ones yesterday in the general sports store right before they closed. They were of quality you could expect from a non-professional place, but her reasoning was, she wouldn't invest too much money if wasn’t  even sure archery was still her thing. People change and all that.  

The club was also new to her. There was a cabin hidden behind thickets, and apparently hiding quite successfully from civilisation - the last GPS signal she got was still back within the city limits. She had to stop twice to ask directions, and would have stopped many more were there any more people around.   

Tauriel squatted to screw the limbs on to the raiser while taking the place in. It wasn't exactly what she expected - maybe because it was nothing like the archery club back in her professional days with trimmed lawn and air of snobbery. But mainly because she didn't look up much about the place to begin with. It was the only range around and signing to the club consisted of paying the initial fee for three months - a small fee at that too. All was handled with a mail and money transfer, no human contact needed, but wasn't that, after all, the best part about archery? It can be just you and the bow, and well, the trees, apparently.  

She did a quick job of stringing the bow (and a good job of ignoring the pop of joints in her back). It seemed the range itself was more or less devoid of trees which she was thankful for. She did not plan on missing her shots, but this could definitely happen, and hitting a trunk was an expensive mistake to make. While the cabin behind her wasn't much to admire, she had to admit the sheer number of targets spoke in advantage of the club. Square targets - firm and made of thick, high-quality foam - were placed every ten meters reaching to seventy, and multiple positions allowed for a handful of people to shoot at the same time at different distances. She could also see a squirrel, boar, some wild cat, and is that a dinosaur? And while the mock hunting shooting business was not her thing, she could appreciate the variety.   

Finally done putting off the inevitable, she pinned the target face on thirty meters, hoping the short distance would not discourage her after all these years. And after two rounds, she had to say, it could be worse. Her groupings were nowhere near what she could do on the Olympic distance back in the day, but she was clearly not a novice.  

Tauriel ripped the arrows from the target, making a mental note to get some rubber gripper the next time, and came back to the position. She slid the tab back on, nocked an arrow, took a breath, and lurched.   

Was that a branch breaking?   

She heard the unmistakable "Shit!" from somewhere behind the cabin.   

Tauriel stalled before deciding to go and see the intruder. She stupidly took the bow with her, like what, was she planning on shooting them?   

It turned out there were more animal figures and some field targets set around in the back. She noted that the terrain here was not as pristine as in the front, which definitely was the point. Emerging from one of the hollows in the ground, Tauriel finally noticed a silhouette above her, quite a distance from the ground.   

"You need some help there?" she yelled, which very quickly proved a terrible idea.   

"Wha!?" Was all the person above got to say, before they rushed to the ground leaving behind a trace of severed branches.   

It was definitely more a reflex than goodness of her heart that made Tauriel reach out and grab the falling disaster of a person, before the impact sat them both on the forest cover.   

She pushed the foreign weight aside and struggled to her legs.   

"What the hell were you doing up there!?" she yelled, focused on brushing off the dirt from her backside.   

"I was collecting the arrows," a raspy voice replied from the ground level. Finally, having achieved the verticality, the man looked up to her with the tightly pressed lips and a wince.  

"Don't take it the wrong way! I shoot well... well, better than this. This one's not mine!" he said, waving the arrow which somehow took the fall much better than his clearly bruised ego.  

A bird cuckooed from high above, and another call replied from another tree.   

"Really sorry," the man added bowing his head, " are you alright? "  

"I - yes. I think so. You?"   

"Never better! There are worse things than to be saved by a beautiful woman, even if she was the one putting you in danger in the first place."   

Tauriel made a face. Really?  

"So, do you come here often?" he continued.   

Oh, really.  

 
She no longer felt bound by any excuse of good manners and took her time looking him up and down. He definitely looked like someone who had just had a close encounter with wilderness, leaves in tousled hair and all, but other than that, he was not half bad. Not quite as tall as her, but this was hardly a thing to focus on, what with the roguish smile and a five o'clock shadow. Not that she cared for any of that ever, and especially now, considering the circumstances. 

"Actually, it's my first day training here." She opted to reply truthfully.   

"Very well, in that case I must show you around! I'm Kíli by the way, and before you ask, yes, that's the actual name - a weird family thing with short names and rhymes." Kíli shot forward trying to brush off needles from his clothes with mid results at best.   

Tauriel noticed he was not carrying a bow, so the arrow may indeed not be his, which did not exactly make the situation less weird.  

"I see you attacked some targets already, so probably no training on that ground is needed. Let me show you the storage then.”  

Kíli stopped by the door and started digging for the key. This man was all pockets.   

"All the veteran members have keys, so if you need access, it's best you try catching one of us here. Otherwise, you can use the range whenever you want by yourself, you just won't be able to enjoy the luxuries."   

The gods of cargos finally smiled at Kíli and put the key in his hand. The door opened with a squeak.  

Kíli threw the arrow into a basket that seemed to house all the strays. Deeper inside, Tauriel could see a small table, the coffee machine, a small buzzing fridge and–  

"Bows!" Kíli pointed with a flare. "In case you come to target practice but forget yours. I've heard it happens."  

The equipment was definitely preloved, but overall looked usable.  

"But I see you will probably prefer to use your own. It's a pretty thing you got there."  

Tauriel snorted. This compliment she could agree with.  

"It's an old thing but served me well at competitions."  

"Looks like we got a young prodigy in our ranks."   

"I don't think so," Tauriel said, sounding wistful to her own ears.  

"We will see about that."   

It was honestly a nice thing to say, but the moment ended quickly when Kíli did a 180, opened the fridge, chugged half of an ORC, gave a low burp he must've thought she couldn't hear, and asked, "Energy drink? Or more in for a coffee?"  

"None. I didn't plan to get lost on my way here or perform as a landing ground, and now I'll be running late for my afternoon shift."  

She waved goodbye and turned when she heard urgent: "What's your name?"  

"Tauriel," she replied sparing him a last glance.   

"See you around, Tauriel."  

She grabbed the rest of her equipment without bothering to disassemble the bow and made it for her car.   

What a weirdo.   

Chapter Text

Oh, to be dragged to a historical reenactment by the last person one would expect in such an event.  

"I grew fond of certain aspects of it," Arwen said fastening her seatbelt.  

"Oh yes, the aspects being tall broody men with replica swords."  

She sighed dramatically. "Not men but A man. THE man. And before you say anything, it's called being romantic, not desperate. Look it up. Romance. Courting. Love."  

"Courting." Tauriel repeated flatly starting the ignition. If Arwen was on her way for courting purposes, Tauriel could not tell what her role would be. A trusted steed? A chaperon?  

She breathed out slowly and adjusted her grip on the wheel. It didn't matter what she'd end up doing there, she finally had a day of and had to freaking relax. Charge the mental battery to the brim. This past week was a whirlwind of working overtime and overdosing on caffeine, and if she didn't relax quickly, she'd soon snap. And you do not snap working for Thranduil. He wouldn’t even acknowledge her lapse of judgment, no, he would make her pay by assigning her the worst job possible the moment she started feeling secure again.  

The last occasion she had some time to chill was at the shooting range that if she could count cushioning a fall of a grown-up man from a tree as a relaxing activity. She'd rather not dwell on that for too long.  

"How is Legolas doing?" Arwen asked over the whirr of the engine.  

"I wouldn't know, we don't talk. Last time I heard of him, Boss mentioned fashion week in Milan." 

"To think you now hang out with Thranduil more than Legolas." 

"Don't even tell me," Tauriel groaned. The truth was she missed her friend. They were joined at the hip for so many years, it now felt like she was missing a vital organ. She pushed thoughts of Legolas out of her head. Relax!!!  

The trip to the ruins didn't take long, but finding a square metre of free space in the crowded parking lot was another thing, and her SUV definitely needed more than that not to earn any scratches. She finally found a parking spot - a miserable place in full sun and far from the destination. She figured it should be okay to park here, there was a jeep standing along the street already. Her car looked even more impeccable next to the filthy thing.  

It was a good car, she got it second hand, or more like forth hand a couple years back and, so far, could trust it completely. People come and go, but SUVs are made to stay. 

Once they reached the grounds of the event, Tauriel felt even more out of place. While not everyone here was participating in the battle, it seemed that the on-lookers mostly dressed for the occasion. Seeing her friend out of her element, Arwen grabbed her hand and together they pushed though the masses of peasants, ladies of the court and knights. It didn't seem the audience stuck to a particular time period, but she subconsciously adjusted the rim of her cap.  

Legolas always poked fun at her in moments like this, saying she dressed like someone was about to jump out from behind the bushes any minute and make her do a hundred push-ups. He'd definitely say something snide if he were here.  

Arwen was wearing a lilac dress fit a princess, though Tauriel was not so sure about the addition of the elf ears. 

The girls stopped in front of the battlefield, where the two sides were doing last minute prepping with the castle remains looming in the background. And calling it a castle was generous; a heap of rubble would be more like it. It looked like two infantries would be testing their powers today.  

"I hope Aragorn's team wins," Arwen said.  

"I'm not sure his involvement can really change the final score," Tauriel replied distractedly. She got a glimpse of archery targets being carried in the distance, and figured maybe that would be something to check out after the main event concluded. What battle was this meant to be anyway?  

The horns tore through the chatter and the battle started. And boy, was that a battle. Once the armies clashed, and it took some sweet time, as the square was large and they were on foot, the chaos commenced. Axes, daggers, halberds, and, of course, swords clashed in a surprisingly metallic sound. Some warriors took the fight to the ground, pushing each other and tangling their limbs together. It looked both comical and painful.  

Arwen was cheering through the whole ordeal with an admirable devotion. Seeing her that excited about violence was definitely a new one and made it almost worth coming on its own. 

After less than a quarter, the fight was concluded. The victorious side (Aragorn’s) cheered while the defeated turned to retreat. The fallen tried to minimise the rise and fall of their chests for what felt like a respectful time before standing up, stretching, and picking up their gear. 

"Not sure how we find him now.” Arwen said from above, standing on her tiptoes and trying to make out a particular knight in the sea of the helmets. 

“We will let him find you.” Tauriel decided, taking over and dragging her friend towards the fair. 

The range of wares and activities was not a surprise. You could get anything and everything to start with reenacting yourself (none was too interested), eat a vaguely medieval meal (at least in name) or enjoy a jester’s show (shortsighted gentleman reading jokes from his phone).  

They made a beeline for the shooting range, Tauriel’s enthusiasm cooling the closer she got. It was too late to turn, and she was never one to chicken out anyway. 

“You, here?” she asked, having got as close behind his back as possible without him noticing.   

His jump was worth the trouble.  

“Someone has to fish for fresh talents," Kíli replied, collecting himself quickly on seeing who took him by surprise. Tauriel noticed with relief that while his clothes didn’t look new, they were definitely not medieval. 

A boy was just trying his aim from 8 meters. The bow he was using, as well as some of the ones resting on a rack, were all traditional without any sights or even shelves for an arrow to rest on. 

The fresh talent managed to hit the hay stack in the very right upper corner. Not bad. 

Arwen cleared her throat.  

“Right, that’s my friend, Arwen.” Tauriel gestured behind. “And this is Kíli, a member of the club I joined this week.” 

And that was that for the introductions and pleasantries, because right that moment Aragorn approached them to steal the spotlight, helmet under his arm and hair artfully dishevelled. 

“Hello ladies, I didn’t expect to meet you here today!” Aragorn said, and nodded at Kíli whom he had probably met earlier. As for Kíli, he gave a couple instructions to the young archer and made sure to spring back at the Tauriel’s side whenever he could.  

“You can’t possibly think we would miss it! You fought well." 

Tauriel fought and lost the battle to eyeroll. 

“Maybe too well. The guild wants to give me the rank of the king. I'm honoured, but there would be responsibilities, and I just don’ know if I can take them on at the moment.” 

“I’m sure you will decide whatever’s best for everyone.” Arwen smiled sweetly. 

Kíli looked at Tauriel, raising eyebrows in a silent question. She shook her head.  

“You may expect to see more of me; I’ve been thinking about getting into reenactments.” 

Aragorn leaned in excitedly. “Are you thinking something particular?” 

Arwen looked around. To be frank, Tauriel was impressed with the speed at which her friend was coming up with these things. 

“Archery of course! I joined the club just now!” 

At that, Tauriel knew that Arwen’s creative approach to flirting just became her problem. And probably, Kíli’s. And possibly, anyone’s within Arwen’s bow range. 

“Yes, so like I said, come by the club and you can take a pick from the beginner bows from storage,” Kíli offered smoothly. “The least I can do to begin pay the life debt to Tauriel, is to help her friend by making her my Padawan.”  

“Life debt?” she asked looking from Tauriel to Kíli. 

“She stepped in the last moment like a guardian angel and saved my life.” 

"You sure you didn’t hit your head on that day?” Tauriel asked. 

The chat ended when Arwen dug out her phone out of a tiny sack and saw the time. 

"I'd love to stay longer, but I have a Pilates class and they promised to kick me out the next time I'm late." She turned to Tauriel. "Could you drop me off near the studio, pretty please?" 

"Sure, it's not like it's in a completely opposite direction. Wait, doesn't it start at 4?" 

"Mhm."  

The goodbyes were quick. 

It was on the jog to the car when Tauriel spoke again. 

“Why would you say that? You could've picked anything else, something you have done before and are actually interested in! Don't you literally own a horse?” 

“I panicked, okay? He brushed my hand!” 

“You could have asked him for sword lessons!” 

“Ah, I could have. Well, what's done is done, we can work with it.” 

It was hours later when the grounds were almost already cleaned up and majority of the people returned home.  

"So, how did you guys all meet?" Kíli asked sitting heavily on one of the cleaner pallets, popped an ORC open and offered another one to Aragorn. He wasn’t even sure when exactly he agreed to stay longer and help out. If Aragorn was one thing it was persuasive.  

"I guess we earned it," Aragorn conceded, putting one of the last boxes away and reclining against a tree trunk, the can now in his hand.  

"So, Arwen was working the bar at one of my work events. We just launched a new game after months of delays, and the party, well, it sort of got out of hand. I stayed longer to apologise to the staff, and that's when we talked a bit." Aragorn shrugged and took a sip of his drink. He fought a flinch. "It looks like we have a lot in common. We keep bumping into each other. Arwen's usually hanging out with Tauriel."  

 
“I suppose that makes us acquaintances at best,” he continued, scratching his beard. 

“That’s none of my business, but they seem to like you. Especially Arwen.” 

At that Aragorn almost lost his balance against the tree. “You think? Well. She’s nice, isn’t she? But that doesn’t mean anything. Women like that don’t-” he gestured vaguely about himself. “You know.” 

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” Kíli said, glancing at the sorry excuse of a castle bathing in the brilliance of the setting sun.   

Chapter Text

Tauriel rolled down the window to get some fresh air in and continued scrolling. There were a lot of new pics on Legolas's Instagnome, making a perfectly consistent mosaic on his profile. She could tell his manager's hand when she saw it. All nice outfits, aesthetic meals, and beautiful architecture. Milan, soufflé, Prada, contemporary art gallery. A perfect picture of Legolas's life that is, of course, if you never met him in person.   

What really grabbed her attention though, was a story added last evening. Legolas was recording a woman around their age fighting for her life in crazy high heels, singing “My heart will go on” at some questionable karaoke place. The camera was all shaky and his laughter was chiming from beyond the frame.   

Tauriel smiled. She would bet her month's worth of pay check that he was now sprawled in a hotel bed with blinds down and a killer hungover.   

A message popped up on her screen and she didn't have to read it to know what her friend wanted to tell her.   

Arwen  

Please tell me you're not here yet   

Tauriel  

I'm waiting in the car.   

Arwen   

I'm so so sorry ;-;  

The shift wouldn't end yesterday  

I maaaybe hit snooze a couple times  

Plz don't kill me  

Tauriel   

Can't promise anything.  

Arwen   

I could use some more beauty sleep not gonna lie  

I'll make it up to you  

You get the instructor all to yourself   

He's kinda..   

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)   

Tauriel  

Are you trying to tell me you're making me a favour right now?  

And please, he's not your type.   

Or mine.   

Arwen  

That's not fair   

My heart is taken   

But if it wasn't..   

They're kinda similar too when I think about it  

Could be cousins  

Tauriel   

I don't see it.   

He crashed into me and then burped.   

Not very similar to your prince in a shining armour.  

Arwen  

Oh cmon   

Or should I remind you the stuff you do sometimes  

And he's cute  

DEFINITELY your type   

She slowly breathed out through her nose, fighting annoyance.   

Tauriel  

OK if you're not getting up, I'll get going.   

Arwen  

I love you and I'm soooo making this up to you :**  

Shoot something for me  

Tauriel parked between a cherry red corolla and a jeep that was all caked in dried up mud. The latter looked vaguely familiar. There wasn't really a parking lot to speak of, just some uneven ground with trees sparser than in other places. If they tried to organise any tournaments here, the majority of competitors would have to come by foot or clear the forest.  

She'd been coming to the range nearly every day. It was something to fill in the late mornings before work, and she found herself looking forward to it when her days were stretching into late evenings in the headquarters. It was almost self-indulgent considering her otherwise optimally planned out weekly schedule.  

Tauriel could see herself coming back to shape soon. Fifty meters made now for a comfortable distance, and she would probably crank up the limbs soon, too.   

She nodded to the man shooting at the front. His tall frame and luscious hair were hard to miss, but what really caught her eye were his perfect form and smooth release, with a beautiful follow up. He was, of course, aiming at the farthest target. She didn't even bother to stick around to see where the arrow struck.   

If Tauriel had to be completely honest with herself – what a preposterous idea – she was a bit jittery. This had to be her recently developed dependence on caffeine. She was definitely not apprehensive about meeting Kíli, because why would she? He was only on her mind because of what Arwen was suggesting. And Arwen was suggesting the same thing she said every time she got a whiff of a man appearing in Tauriel's orbit. Which to be again, furiously frank with herself, Tauriel had to admit wasn’t happening all that often.  

She's coming from a good place; she reminded herself heading towards the cabin.  

The door was ajar, so it needed only a light push to reveal the interior. The usual junk was left in the same spot she saw it last, but the only thing that really mattered was the coffee machine, now bathed in the soft light seeping through the gaps between wooden beams. She quickly got to work, grabbing a paper cup and making sure coffee beans and water were filled. She didn't feel the need to look for milk.   

She all but gulped down the surprisingly good beverage and set out to search for Kíli. And if she wouldn’t find him, well, she could just leave him a note. Maybe it would be a good idea to come earlier to work today. Yes, she could quickly look around and go. In fact, her back muscles were a bit sore after yesterday, now that she thought about it.  

Reality revised Tauriel’s plan on the spot. She was short of stumbling into him in the back, though he yet again did not seem to notice her at first. This was starting to be a pattern. He was just stepping between the bow and string, and she cringed. This was not her favourite way to string a bow.   

On some less conscious levels of judgment, she noted how his veins popped in effort, his forearms exposed below the rolled-up sleeves.    

The morning whispered a promise of a hot, cloudless day.  

“No armguard?” she asked, her voice deliberately loud.  

“Tauriel!” Kíli smiled brilliantly in an utter surprise before looking down at himself, scrunching his face. “Ah, yes. Lesson one: safety always comes first.”  

For the lack of the arm guard, he dutifully rolled the sleeves all the way down, going as far as making the buttons on the cuffs of his tartan shirt. “Voilà!”    

With some delay, he looked behind Tauriel as if Arwen could be hiding in her shadows.   

“Arwen couldn't make it,” Tauriel explained. “She asked to apologise on her behalf.”   

"Oh. Alright."  

"Sorry you came here for nothing.”  

Kíli shrugged, "I'd probably come here today anyway.”  

A sudden whisp of wind blew their hair into their faces, and Tauriel pleated hers into a neat braid, her hands moving mechanically at the back of her head. Kíli, on the other hand, took something out of his pocket and clasped it at the back of his head, majority of his hair falling out of its clutches straight away.  

"And you? Won’t you stay for a match, since you came all the way here anyway?”  

"A match?” She looked dubiously between his and her bows and the animal figures around.  

"We will have to make it more even obviously.”   

“And how will we do that?”  

“Take off the sight to begin with.” 
  

She raised her brow but didn't say anything, just took the tools from her quiver pouch and focused on unscrewing.   

With that done, she positioned herself as if for shooting, raising her bow closer to the eye than she ever had the need to and imagined the arrow’s trajectory.   

"I'm not sure if this is fairer now.”  

“Well, in that case, I will be very gallant when you lose.”  

  
Oh, it’s on. 

Kíli quickly went over some of the rules. There were three figures on each station, and they would be shooting taking turns after putting two arrows into each. There were signs stuck in the ground to give them an idea of the possible distance, but the real trick was to shoot as close to the rubber "heart" without knowing precisely how far the animal stood. Ten stations in total. They were naturally going to count the points.  

 
They trekked in silence to the first station. With Kíli leading the way, Tauriel had a good opportunity to observe his glittery pink hair clasp. It gave a very strong impression of being stolen from a child and somewhat explained why it wasn’t doing the best job holding the unruly locks.  

The first station was located on a little hill. The first target: a little squirrel on the ground, a couple meters away.  

“Ladies first.”  

Standing next to Kíli, Tauriel shot without further preamble. There was constant, but not too strong wind, and Tauriel was rather used to using a sight at all times. All that considered, the shot was not terrible, but the arrow flew centimetres over the squirrel’s head to disappear in the grass.  

“We can treat the first one as a warm-up.” Kíli offered with a small smile.  

 
“No.”  

She readjusted her grip, and pointed the arrowhead a tad lower.  The result was satisfactory; not straight through the “heart”, but within the second circle, adding extra points to her score.   

“I’m starting to worry about my gold.”  

Tauriel did her best to hide her self-satisfied smile. No matter a silly friendly match or a national competition, it felt good to be back.  

“Your turn.”  

It quickly became apparent that none of the archers treated the competition lightly, putting their absolutely best efforts to win. Marching from station to station, Tauriel had to admit that club’s premises were even bigger than she first estimated, but at last, many arrows and steps later, they reached the tenth station.   

An oversized cobra that had its best days long in the past was the first target. Tauriel’s hits were worth eight and ten. Rather than planning her next shot, she found herself observing Kíli’s turn, and not for the first time. She again considered that the competition may not be entirely fair, but this time, to her advantage.   

For one thing, his bow seemed to be on a heavier side. She only noticed after some time; he still stood with his feet firmly stuck in the undergrowth, but something about his tense expression pointed to the beginnings of exhaustion. A traditional bow like his, reminiscent of the weapons used on horseback hundreds of years ago, lacked in her eyes a lot of technological developments. Something as simple as an arrow shelf was simply not there. He scored double eight, arrows so close, the second one ruffled the feathers of the previous one.   

“I’m still winning,” he proclaimed.   

Tauriel looked at the notepad.   

“Not by much.”  

The next, penultimate target was an owl. This one was tricky, attached to a tree close to its crown and with the leaves in the line of shot. All this would have to suffice as an excuse for their poor scores, and the bird was definitely lucky to have no ears with the kind of words they uttered under their breath.   

The last animal of the day, was a boar, placed so far, they struggled to locate its heart, hidden behind tall grasses. It didn’t help that none of them had binoculars or that this would be a deciding round.   

The whole match was somewhat of a curve of both learning the new technique and remembering what the years of neglect could not fully erase. That’s why at the very last station, Tauriel felt the most confident in her abilities. The bow was light in her grasp, the weather was beautiful, and the air clean and refreshing. There was no time for overthinking and no place for hesitation. Ten and ten, no additional notes needed.  

Kíli scored a ten. He exchanged the looks with his competitor. Now was the deciding shot. And he would have won, but sometimes, especially when one really needs to get a good shot, the dominant hand would slip inexplicably at an awkward angle, and the target would be missed big time.  

None of them moved to gather the arrows, too dumbfounded to move at all.  

“I really don’t appreciate men going easy on me.” If she smirked, it was rather muted, in her opinion.  

It was pretty clear, this wasn’t his intention at all.  

The trek back felt a bit more companionable. It could be just that Tauriel was in higher spirits for whatever reason.  

“So, why did you stop?” Tauriel opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Kíli must’ve realised he was not very clear and continued. “You mentioned one time that you used to compete. I can tell you’re still hella good if you can win with me, and it’s not even your usual category! So, why stop?”  

Tauriel took a while to consider how much she wanted to reveal. She usually did a good job shoving up her feelings into small boxes, labelling them, and storing away much like she had done with her bow.   

“Sore subject?” Kíli asked sheepishly.  

She nodded slowly, still gathering her thoughts.  

“I guess I was considered ‘promising’ while still at school. Won some more serious championships, got scholarship. I even thought about doing this seriously, you know, as a career.” She started to undo her braid to occupy her fingers. “But then some things changed, and I couldn’t keep up with the trainings anymore and had to find some other way to support myself.”  

Kíli kept his eyes resolutely on the cabin, now growing larger with every step.  

“Life has a way of messing up our grand plans, huh? But you’re here now, kicking my ass, and that must be worth something.”  

“Speaking of, what do I get for besting you in your own game?”  

“A handshake from the club founder and something to drink is best I can offer.”  

“I could be perhaps persuaded to have one more cup of coffee.”  

Kíli fought with the door for only a moment before it gave in with a creak. He shooed her away when she closed on the coffee machine and started on coffee himself.  

“I was hoping to catch you. I have to pay my overdue subs.”  

They both turned to the new person in the room whom Tauriel recognised as the man she saw shooting earlier.   

“Right, one sec. Sugar, milk?” Kíli asked, handing the steaming cup to Tauriel.  

She just shook her head and started sipping slowly not to burn her tongue.  

Kíli wiped his hands on his pants and led the other man to a low table that was slightly less cluttered than the rest of the room. After digging for a while in one of the shelves behind it, he pulled out a thick notebook and made a note while the other man handed him money. The whole business was quickly finished and the lean man left them alone again.  

“What was that about?”  

“Figwit always pays his dues in cash, don’t ask me why.” He replied, scratching at his jaw. “I actually don’t even know if it’s his real name.”   

“And he pays you, because...?”  

“What?” Kíli looked up at Tauriel with confusion. “Well, I’m the owner, who else should he pay?”