Steady

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Fëanorions can be dense when it comes to emotions.  But it would take a true imbecile to ignore such blatant signs of being hopelessly in love.  This story is based off the Cheat arc and the Catatonic sub-arc and Shame sub-arc.  Well, the Shame sub-arc in particular ("Shame" and "Born").  But, obviously, it is also related to "Starve" and "Belong" and has begun to form its own sub-arc.  Or maybe it's still part of Shame?  Who knows?  Takes place in Great Greenwood in the Third Age.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or the Silmarillion (or Tauriel)

Pairings: Valthoron (OMC) x Tauriel

Characters: Valthoron, Tauriel, Thranduil (mentions Amrod and other random elves)

Warning: non-canon compliant, OMC warning, implied past non-con, murder and other unpleasant stuff, ostracism, racism, prejudice, nonconformism, sappy romance

Song: Elysium Dreams

Words: 1,009
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steady (adjective): direct or sure in movement: unfaltering; firm in position: fixed; constant in feeling, principle, purpose, or attachment: dependable
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/steady

The only remotely steady presence that Valthoron could ever recall within the ages of his own life had been his father's reassuring adoration.

For as long as he could remember, it had always been Thranduil who was at his side whenever he felt so cold and alone.  Always Thranduil whose arms were open wide in offering whenever he needed the comfort of a familiar touch.  Always Thranduil whose love rained down unconditionally upon the strange child at whom no one wished to glance twice.

But, for all that he loved his father and appreciated the overwhelming devotion and hardships overcome, even that foundation had been a shaky one.

Not enough to keep him standing through the pain of disillusionment, because he wanted to hide his knowledge of his origins from his sire.  Not enough to cradle him in warmth during the dark nights full of phantoms, because to trouble his father with the truth would be to bring all the memories of their dark past tumbling down in an avalanche.  And the last thing Valthoron desired was to upset Thranduil needlessly and selfishly.

The last thing he wanted was to remind his father of his own conception.  Of his likeness to the monster who shared half his blood.

So he remained silent.  No matter how steady the flow of love, it had not been enough.  Not enough to lean upon when he teetered upon the brink of madness.  Not enough to keep his feet from faltering upon the uneven ground of uncertainty and grief and hatred.

Thus, when a new steady force began to exert its strength upon his life, Valthoron did not know what to believe or what to expect.  What to think.

What to think of this woman who had somehow proclaimed herself his companion and shoved her way into his existence without a single word of warning or moment in which he could part his lips in rejection.  No, she had just stomped her way through his barriers and made herself quite at home behind his walls.

With her sly trickster's smile and her wry sense of humor.  With her huge doe eyes and her vibrant red hair.  With her low, cunning voice and agile mind.

Valthoron could not claim to ever have had someone like her attached to his side so vehemently, like a leech to an open wound, one that simply refused to release its iron grip.  Though, perhaps that was a cruel analogy for the bond so powerful between them.  For if he were honest with himself, he enjoyed her near-constant company.  Looked forward to it, even, on those days when he stared at the water and could not forget the image of flame dancing upon its surface.

Never had he possessed a friend with whom to spend time with before.  A peer and an equal, not tasked to love him through blood or misguided responsibility, but one who cared for him simply because she could see him and not his hair and his face and his nasty temper.

It was novel and strange, but not unpleasant.  And, quickly, Tauriel began to immerse him within her sphere of influence, dragging him closer kicking and screaming, without hesitation or remorse, to stand within the blinding light of her attention and affection.  Of her grins as she grasped his hand and pulled him along.  Of her voice as she chastised him teasingly.  Of her blatant comradeship and competitive nature.

It was an altogether different sort of support than was offered by his father's tender but hesitant embraces and soft, censored words.  A refreshing sort of openness without need to hide his true feelings or need to cast aside questions and nightmares that needed desperately to be spoken aloud.

About the past.  About the ache settled like a knife in his chest.

Things he could speak about to no other for the sensitivity of their content.  For the brutality of their reality.  For the terrible and ugly truth hidden in their gruesome and unfortunate depths.

But she would listen.  And never once did her eyes turn away in fear or darken with disgust or glimmer with pity.  To her, he was not the spawn of a monster and a murderer or a pathetic creature to be stroked and tamed and controlled.  But a person.  A person to be treated as any other, with quiet words of comfort and gentle but firm advice and direction to help him stumble his way through the dark.

It was an altogether different sort of foundation.  Steady and balanced, more solid than stone and more flexible than the willow's branches.

And Valthoron knew that, once he had tasted this stability, he would be hard-pressed to live without it.  Might lose his footing so easily if this railing were removed and he was left to flounder once more upon the steep slope he had been mounting with struggle and hardship.

He would miss her.  And her presence.  And her grins and jokes and scoffs.

Her smiles.  Her eyes.

And her ability to sit in the grass and listen.  To reach out and hug him tight after hearing horrors never spoken beyond his lips to another soul.

She held him up with strength he could only vaguely understand.  Strength of which, for all his fortitude and skill, he possessed not a drop.  Strength that he came to admire more than any strength of arms or ability with the bow and the knife.

And Valthoron was shocked...

Shocked that it had taken him so long to see such a precious gem amongst the bland and tasteless pebbles.  Shocked that it had taken him so long to see the kindness and sweetness buried beneath her sarcastic outer shell and her biting, sardonic words.

Shocked that it had taken so long for him to realize exactly how in love with her he truly was.  With his steady support.  With his silent listener.

With his best friend.
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Exhausted.  Short and sweet, okay?

Elysium Dreams is by Killer Tracks, and it is absolutely gorgeous.  Consider, the first time I heard this song was in December of last year, and I still remember it perfectly, right down to the floating feeling of being lifted right off the ground and out of the world.  Ah, sorry for being poetic.  I'm tired.  But seriously, listen.  It's more than lovely.

As for the romance, the arc is progressing, I would say.  They're so cute!  Not I just have to decide whether or not one of them will die.  Well, it would be Tauriel, but it's a hard decision to make, you know?

We'll see.