#but like i’m thinking the battle where legolas’ mother died may have been the last hed seen of it ??

[ofwrittenwords]

okay but given that firing an arrow takes so little time , especially if it’s not meant to be properly aimed & is just apart of a mass body of them to hit a massive target , thranduil really should have given the order to fire the moment after those larger twirly - whirly arrows fired by dain’s forces hit the ground since the first three ranks which are the archers weren’t hit at all bc those precious seconds between the firing then reloading of those larger arrows was his golden opportunity which he missed bc he hesitated

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 7/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rated T

Also on Ao3

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @lovepurplepumpkins

Chapter Six:

For all the stories of hospitality and loyal friendship of elves, they were by and large an isolated people. Their lands were cloaked with magic and protected from what they saw as the corrupt influence of men and dwarves. They scoffed at the fairies who helped people while living high above them, using magic that the elves considered crude. The magic of elves was a mysterious thing; tied to the earth and highly spiritual in nature. They didn’t flit above it all like the fairies did, and if a human or dwarf needed their healing arts or their bows and swords, they would gladly give it.

Yet they still rarely fraternized with those not of their kind.

Tauriel mused over these things as she made her way through the forest towards the nearest village. She had never been to a tavern, but Legolas had. He said that the men’s ale and other spirits had little to know effect on elves. But the company was distracting.

And Tauriel desperately needed a distraction.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about the ways of her people. They were such a study in contradictions, and often Tauriel wanted to rebel against some of that hypocrisy. Why hide away in enchanted lands while men suffered and died? And why was it so scandalous for an elf to love a man when everyone knew of the Dunedin –the half elf. They had to come from somewhere.

And why was it so scandalous to love a dwarf?

She shook her head against that thought and massaged the ache that still rested at her breast. Perhaps she would not have been so open to the man she met that day and his charms if her heart had not been so raw.

She was still almost a mile from town when she saw him. He was of slender build, though broad shouldered, and he held a bundle in his arms wrapped in a dirty muslin cloth. With rapid, purposeful steps, as if he couldn’t complete his task fast enough, he approached the large, smooth stone by the tree line. He bent and deposited the squirming bundle gently. Pudgy little hands lifted from the folds of the fabric, grasping in the air for something, tiny fingers flexing then closing again.

“Glad, gar-hi hen,” he cried out into the woods.

It was the cry of human parents who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – care for their infants. They believed the elves would find these orphans and take them in, and sometimes that was true. But the woods were wild and sometimes, by the time the elves found a child, it was too late.

The man began to back away from the infant, who began to cry as if he understood his fate. Tauriel could contain her indignation no longer. She burst from the shelter of the wood and dashed to the child shivering on the slab of stone. She scooped him up while simultaneously shouting at the child’s father.

“Why are you humans so cruel?” she cried as he stopped and turned back towards her in surprise.

The man looked truly stricken as he lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “I can’t care for him,” he attempted to explain, “and everyone knows the elves foster many human children.”

“Many is a slight exaggeration,” Tauriel snapped. She tore her eyes away from the man’s much too attractive face and gazed instead at the babe in her arms. The child grasped onto her finger and pulled it to his mouth, sucking hungrily. He was still red and oh so small. And much too thin. Understanding dawned and Tauriel gasped, “His mother died birthing him. Didn’t she?”

The man before her ran a hand wearily over his face, nodding his head as he did so. His anguish seemed so deep, that she took a step forward and placed a hand to his arm.

“Keeping him is too painful, for it will remind you of her.”

He shook her hand off in irritation, and shouted, “No! It’s that I have no bloody idea what to do with him. Feed him? Care for him? I’m no father!” He began to pace, mumbling in agitation, seemingly caring little that she was listening. “He’ll remind me of his mother? That’s ridiculous. Remind me of a woman I just paid coin for? I was . . . lonely. I thought those type of women took care of those things . . . and then this,” he gestures almost in disgust at the tiny bundle in Tauriel’s arm, “shows up on my doorstep. The old woman who brought him said there was no doubt he’s mine. He’s probably got diseases . . .”

“A boy needs his father,” Tauriel said in disgust after his tirade. The man collapsed onto the large rock, his head in his hands. To her shock, he began to weep.

Tentatively, Tauriel sat beside the man. She shifted the baby to the crook of one arm and put the other hesitantly about the man’s shoulders. Her touch made him stiffen, and he sat up suddenly, rubbing at his face. Unsure what to do, she withdrew her arm and focused once again on the baby in her arms. He had the lightest peach fuzz on the cap of his head, and she ran her hand over it gently. She couldn’t help smiling down at him as he let out a little shuddering sigh, seeming to melt into her embrace. When she began to speak again, she was addressing the man next to her, but she kept her gaze trained on the infant’s face.

“Elves are not entirely welcoming to those not of their kind, especially the Woodland Elves. They will raise this boy, it is true, for they will never abandon an innocent to a cruel fate. Yet he will always be an outsider, never to fully belong.” She traced the baby’s petal-soft cheek and let out a small sigh as she finished.

“You sound as if you’ve experienced such rejection personally.”

She turned to find the young man gazing intently at her, his lips turned up in a charming smile. She now saw that his eyes were a bright blue, like the forget-me-nots that bloomed in the meadow. Tauriel glanced away from his penetrating gaze, a blush rising to her freckled cheeks.

“I may know a bit of what it feels, I suppose. My people are very . . . set in their ways.”

“Yet you push the boundaries.”

She turned at his words to find him regarding her with unabashed appreciation.

“I’m Brennan,” he told her, his smile widening to a full grin.

“Tauriel,” she replied with a simple nod.

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, “And a lovely lass such as yourself must either be an elven princess or betrothed to an elven prince.”

She blushed deeper at how he had unwittingly hit the mark. “There are those who wish to choose my fate for me,” she told him bitterly.

“An arranged marriage?” Brennan questioned, scooting closer. So close, that Tauriel became completely intent upon the baby in her arms. “While your heart belongs to someone else . . . a simple warrior perhaps?”

Tauriel gazed into the distance. “I almost loved. Once. And you guess rightly that he was a warrior. He died in battle before I had a chance to give him my heart. “

“But he loved you.”

Tauriel turned, surprised. Brennan reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers barely brushing against the pointed tip. It sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“Yes, but it would have been forbidden. He was not of my kind.”

Brennan’s gaze was fixed on her. Uncomfortable with the feelings he stirred in her, she looked down at the baby who had now fallen asleep in her arms. No one had gazed at her that way since . . . well, in a very long time. Her heart swelled also at the solid warmth of the child she held.

“What’s his name?” she asked almost in a whisper.

“Liam.”

“Liam,” she breathed, leaning forward and brushing a kiss to his forehead. The place where her kiss had landed glowed slightly, and some of her elven strength seeped into his small frame. He let out a deeper sigh of contentment, and Tauriel relaxed when color rose to his slightly plumper cheeks.

“Come with me and be his nurse,” Brennan asked, voice eager. For the first time since he set the child down upon the stone, he reached out and set his palm against the boy’s head. Tauriel looked up again, not realizing how much closer he had drawn to her. His smile was intoxicating, his nose almost brushing hers. “You love him already, I can tell. We could be . . . almost like a family.”

Tauriel could admit, years later, that it had been a rash suggestion on his part. And on hers, she had been an absolute fool to accept. But her future among her people had seemed so stifling, and Brennan’s bright blue eyes seemed to hold so much promise. And the desire in those eyes lit a longing in her heart that had lain dormant after so much grief.

So she went home with him.

It wasn’t long before she became more than a nursemaid, finding herself in Brennan’s bed. She gave herself to him completely, in the elven way, giving him another son. But instead of naming him after Brennan or someone in the Jones family, Tauriel insisted on naming him after a warrior who died too soon, before she could really love him. She changed the name slightly, so Brennan would think it was elvish, but it was a tribute nonetheless.

She named him Killian.

*****************************************************

Emma hit the ground with incredible force, almost face-planting into the ground. As it was, she got a mouthful of grass and when Killian rushed to help her to her feet, she was gagging and spitting.

“I forgot how jarring portal jumping was,” she muttered, “last time we did this, I landed on my feet.”

“Well,” Killian chuckled, as he helped brush her off, “it has been awhile.”

Emma picked some stray leaves from her hair as she turned in a circle and looked around. The trees seemed much taller and denser than she remembered in the Enchanted Forest. “What realm is this?”

“Still the Enchanted Forest, just a different kingdom. Middle Earth.”

Emma looked at her husband with an arched brow. “Seriously?” Emma rubbed her temples where a headache was beginning to form. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. And I don’t care what this place is as long as we can find our daughter.”

Killian put his arm around her and drew her close. “We will, love.” Then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s the family motto, isn’t it? That we always find each other?”

Emma attempted a half smile. “Well, this time around we need your mother’s help. Have you seen her?”

“I’m right here,” Tauriel called out, and Emma turned to see the woman striding from behind a large tree. She had never seen the woman look so determined. “You’ll need my help or you won’t get anywhere with the council.”

Emma crossed her arms. “The council? And how are you supposed to help when you keep disappearing?”

“I will let my son explain everything to you on your journey. You must go and retrieve the Arkenstone. It is the key to saving Elien,” as she spoke, Tauriel began to fade.

Emma dropped her arms, clenching her hands in to tight fists. “What? No! We don’t have time to go on a quest for some stone; we need to find our little girl!” Tears sprung to Emma’s eyes. “Elien’s only four! She’s probably so scared . . . “

Killian took her in his arms immediately, cupping her head and running his fingers through her hair soothingly. “Emma, I am just as frantic as you are to get to my little cygnet. But if my mother is right, and the elves have taken her, then no harm will come to her. Elves are the guardians of children, and their lands are enchanted with the strongest light magic. The worst that can happen is that she’ll miss us. And Granny’s onion rings.”

Emma managed to chuckle against his chest at that. She looked over at Tauriel and straightened, throwing her shoulders back resolutely. “Okay, then, how do we get this . . . stone thing?”

Tauriel’s face fell, “Unfortunately the answers you seek are with my people. Specifically my mother.”

“Who’s your –“ but Emma’s words trailed off as Tauriel disappeared.

“Well,” Killian said with that false smile he always used when he knew they had a difficult task ahead, “to the Woodland Elves it is.”

Emma turned to her husband and pinned him with an intense stare. “Killian. Who is Tauriel’s mother?”

The smile fell from Killian’s face and he swallowed nervously. “That would be the queen herself . . . “ he paused for a bit as if wary of continuing, “Galadriel.”

Emma blinked rapidly. “Galadriel? Are you kidding me?” She shook her head. “Captain Hook’s grandmother is Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings?”

Killian shrugged. “Come now, Swan, after all this time, that’s the weirdest connection you’ve heard?”

Despite the stressful situation, Emma had to laugh. After all, she lived in a town with Rumplestiltskin, the son of Peter Pan and the Black Fairy. She had gone to a wedding in Oz to see Red Riding Hood marry Dorothy. Her son, the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming, had taken the daughter of the Mad Hatter to the prom.

“Point taken,” she grumbled. She fished a rubber band out of her pocket, then pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. “So, pirate/elf, do you know how to get to Galadriel’s kingdom? Cause your mom sort of vanished on us again.”

Killian closed his eyes for a moment, tilted his head, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they seemed even bluer than normal. “I can feel it in the water, I can feel it in the earth, I can smell it in the air. Those aren’t just pretty words in a lullaby. As a Dunedin, I have a connection to nature that’s difficult to explain. I especially have a connection to the land of the elves. Therefore, I have no doubt that we must head northeast. And luckily, I also know we will be there before sunset.”

“That’s good news at least,” Emma sighed as she followed her husband deeper into the forest, “will these elves have dinner ready, too?”

“Actually, they probably will. Elven food may be different from what you’re used to, but its always sweet and always refreshing.”

“You had me at sweet.”

Killian chuckled, then they both fell silent for a few moments. The woods seemed darker and denser by the moment, and Emma reached out to grasp her husband’s hook. “Um . . . babe . . . what’s the name of this forest?”

Killian hesitated, scratching behind his ear. That gesture was like a neon sign to Emma – whatever forest they were in, it wasn’t good. “Ahem . . . Mirkwood.”

Emma’s face paled remembering the movie The Hobbit. “Shit. Killian, I swear, if one of those spiders comes after me –“

He pulled her against his side and gave her a squeeze, “I won’t allow it, darling.”

“You better not because you know how I feel about those things. Ever since Gideon . . .” she trailed off again, eyeing the forest nervously. Was it just her or was it filled with all sorts of creepy sounds? She tripped over a thick root, and Killian quickly steadied her with hand and hook at her waist.

“Well, love,” he told her with a cheerfulness in his voice that was in sharp contradiction to the setting, “my mother did want me to explain some things to you. So how about a story?”

Emma squeezed the hand that still rested at her waist. “You are good at those.”

“So, this elven council - and part of this your Tolkien fellow got right – was formed thousands of years ago when an elf named Cilbarin forged nineteen rings of power.”

Emma clambered over a group of mossy stones. “You mean the ones Sauron corrupted when he made the one ring?”

“Aye, one ring to rule them all. So it goes. Anyhow, the elves were given three rings, the race of men nine, and the dwarves thirteen.”

“I remember that from the movie. I never understood why the dwarves needed so many.”

“Well,” Killian laughed, “apparently they like to do things in large groups.”

Emma laughed too. “So that’s where the elven council came from?”

“Aye. These three elves were chosen because they were the rulers of the three races of elves. The Lake Elves, the Woodland Elves, and the Elves of Rivendell. Water, earth, and air.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What’s Rivendell got to do with air? I thought it was full of waterfalls and stuff.”

“Aye, but it’s in the mountains. And when we go there to bring Elien home, you will smell something different in the air there. I can’t describe it exactly . . . it’s the way I imagine a star would smell.”

Emma shook her head. “I didn’t know stars had a smell.”

“They do,” Killian said, almost wistfully.

Emma tugged gently on his hand. “Is that why you wanted to name our daughter the elvish word for star?”

Killian smiled as he tucked a strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “No. I wanted to name her Elien because she, and you, are the lights that I know will always guide me home.”

Emma couldn’t help herself, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Then let’s go get our little star and take her home.”

******************************************************

Killian knew that the sun hadn’t set, and yet there was no denying the darkness that surrounded them. He could sense Emma trembling slightly next to him. She had tried to brush it off, saying she was cold, but Killian knew better. The giant spider Gideon had sent after her did a number on her. Ever since, she was absolutely petrified of spiders. His tough Swan, who hadn’t flinched at the sight of a giant, would scream bloody murder if she saw a spider in their house. Once she had walked into a spider web and almost had a panic attack. Not that he blamed her. Being trapped by a giant spider wasn’t something he wanted to experience either.

Killian tried to be subtle when he pulled his cutlass from its scabbard, but Emma’s widened eyes showed he hadn’t fooled her in the least. Emma’s face drained of color, but she still lifted her arms in determination, ready to send a burst of magic at anyone – or anything – that might attack. And Killian definitely had a bad feeling about this part of the forest. The air smelled dank and his ears kept picking up scuttling sounds.

He thought he had a tight grip on his sword, but when he suddenly found himself yanked off the ground, he lost hold of it. Emma shouted his name, and he saw a burst of magic shoot over his head. A hideous screeching sound followed, and Killian went crashing back to the forest floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Emma muttered as she pulled the sticky string of webbing off his back, “it had to be spiders.”

“I get that reference,” he chuckled, and even in the dim light he could see Emma roll her eyes. “Back to back.”

Emma nodded and turned, her hands up and ready. Killian widened his stance and held both sword and hook aloft. Spiders seemed to be scuttling through the trees above by the thousands, but Killian knew it was probably only a dozen or less. Half of them sent lines of webbing out with their spinnerets as the other half clambered down the tree trunks and charged at Emma and Killian. Emma’s magic seemed to be incredibly effective in stunning them, but not destroying them.

“What are these, zombie spiders?” she snapped. “This magic I’m using ought to be frying their asses.”

Killian didn’t have time to answer as he battled three spiders at once. He hacked two front limbs of one and stabbed the other through one of its many eyes. But the third grabbed him by the leg, yanking him backwards towards the trees. Killian managed to keep hold of his weapon this time, but his position was an awkward one. Before he realized what was happening, he was dangling in the air again, this time upside down.

“Emma!” he screamed, not for help, but because he could see her below, the spiders closing in around her.

What happened next was chaos. One moment Emma was turning to look up at him, trying to blast the web that held him with her magic, and the next a spider was leaping at her, knocking her to the ground. Killian screamed and fought his bonds as Emma wrestled the spider, narrowly missing stab after stab of its stinger. Killian heard a loud hiss above. He tore his eyes from Emma to see a spider hovering over him, its stinger ready and its arms reaching out to grab him. Then there was a whizzing sound right near his ear followed by an arrow imbedding itself in the spider’s head. Arrows were twanging everywhere, and light was illuminating the darkness. Spiders fell and others retreated back up into the tallest branches of the trees.

“Emma!” Killian yelled as the blood continued to rush to his head.

“I’m okay!” she called back.

There was another twang and a “whoosh,” and then Killian once again plummeted to the ground below. He groaned and rolled over just as Emma rushed to his side. She was trembling as she peppered his face with kisses, then she let out a tremulous sigh as she buried her face against his neck.

“I hate spiders.”

Killian held her close as he looked at the figure standing behind her. The elf gave him a smug smile as he slung his bow over his back. “Killian Jones. About to get himself killed. Again.”

Killian shook his head. “That was one bloody time.”

“That I witnessed. But tales of you have become legend, my old friend. Survivor indeed. How old are you these days? 300?”

Killian groaned as he hoisted himself off the ground. “Give or take. And my joints are beginning to feel it.” He then extended his hand, which the elf shook heartily.

Behind him, Emma cleared her throat. “Want to introduce me to your friend, Killian?”

“Yes, darling, I’m sorry. Emma, this is Legolas.”

Killian had sat through hours of Peter Jackson with Emma and Henry, so he knew his wife would have a reaction to this latest introduction.

But he hadn’t expected her to faint.

******************************************************

“Perhaps she is simply overwhelmed by the events of the day.”

Killian shifted Emma’s weight in his arms as he stepped carefully over some roots. “My Swan is of much tougher stuff than that. I have never seen her like this.” He wished she would yell at him, demanding he put her down. Or at least mumble a sarcastic comment against his chest. About Legolas and his pretentious speech and how she should have known Killian was an elf, too.

“Your mother and your grandmother both said the savior would be your true love. But I must confess, I never really believed them.”

Despite his concern for his wife, Killian managed a roguish grin for his old friend. “Considering the mess you had to get me out of all those years ago, it’s no wonder you were skeptical. To be honest, I can scarcely believe it myself sometimes.”

“Your mother always said you were more like your name sake than your father.”

Killian couldn’t help gaping at that revelation. He shook his head as he pressed his lips together. “I doubt she would say that now after what I’ve done.”

“After what?” Legolas chuckled. “What mischief have you done in the last few hours, Dunedin?”

Killian stopped, the elf’s words confusing him. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother told me how much you reminded her of Killi on multiple occasions, the most recent being earlier today.” Legolas clapped Killian on the shoulder. “How do you think I knew to come for you?”

The fair haired elf gave Killian a wide grin, then continued forward into the thick wood. Killian stood still, blinking in surprise at his words. He glanced down at Emma, growing more concerned at her waning complexion and shallow breaths. His regret and shame could be pushed aside for now, his wife needed the healing arts of the elves, and soon.

Ahead, Legolas pushed aside a thick curtain of moss that clung between a huge tree and a pile of boulders. To the casual eye, it seemed to simply cover more large stones. Yet when the elf pushed it aside, it revealed an opening. Killian followed him through to be bathed in soft, ethereal light. Sound seemed muted here, the air filled with the haunting song of elves. Killian suddenly felt simultaneously lighter and stronger. He remembered this feeling from his childhood when he would visit the elven lands in his dreams. The Woodland Elves walked on their light footfalls, almost floating around him as they went about their ordinary tasks. One woman came forward with lambas bread on a large waxy green leaf.

“Some food for our guest,” she said in a gentle voice.

Killian shook his head then nodded toward Emma in his arms. “I can’t think of food until my wife is seen to.”

“I know what ails her.”

Killian would know that voice anywhere. Deeper and more commanding than his mother’s, yet still airy and breathy. He turned to see Galadriel herself regally descending a wooden staircase that wrapped its way around the bottom of a wide tree trunk. Legolas beside him bowed deeply to the queen, and Killian did the best he could with Emma still in his arms.

“Put her here,” Galadriel ordered, gesturing to a pedestal that looked like some sort of stone altar. Elven runes decorated it, and the parts Killian could see read, Of true love intertwined, a heart of stone turns to flesh. Though what exactly that meant, he had no clue. Elves loved being cryptic. Yet Killian obeyed the queen, and deposited Emma gently upon the thick pile of pure white cloth artfully draped across the top of the stone pillar.

Killian pulled his arm gently from behind Emma’s head and ran his hand tenderly across her check and then rested his palm against her heart. He looked up at Galadriel in alarm. “Her skin is like ice yet her pulse is racing.”

“She is the savior. Her heart knows it must free the Arkenstone. All things have aligned. The time is now.”

Killian shook his head in frustration. “There you go with those elven riddles again. Would you please just get to the bloody point! How do we make her better?”

Galadriel came forward, reaching her arm out to hover over Emma’s body. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then they snapped wide as they regarded Killian coolly. His own blood suddenly felt like ice in his veins. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

“The Arkenstone,” he said as the silence stretched too long, “my mother mentioned it. Said we needed it to convince the council to relinquish Elien. She said you knew where it was.”

“I do,” Galadriel replied in an almost bored tone, “but you already have it.” She lifted her arm and pointed at the cutlass at Killian’s hip. “You’ve had it for years.”

Killian pulled the sword from its scabbard and stared at in confusion. He then looked back up at the elf queen with an arched brow. “This is just a crude pirate’s cutlass that just happens to be engraved with elvish runes.”

“Your mother sent you on a quest for some old useless sword? Think, Killian. I foresaw the same future as she. What led you to the cave that held that weapon?”

Killian looked down at his wife in wonder. “A swan,” he whispered hoarsely.

Galadriel reached down and ran a delicate hand over Emma’s golden hair. “Long ago, an elven maiden fell in love with a man – a boy, really - of a race called the Tuor. They were a people with the sea in their veins, and they were not willing to dwell long where they could not hear the sound of its waves. The elf and the lad were very young, and their parents forbade them to be together. Foolish and young, they sought a witch and asked that she join them together eternally. They didn’t stop to ask the price.”

Galadriel waved her hand over the hilt of the cutlass. The elvish runes shimmered and then morphed into a blood red stone. Killian startled.

“The Arkenstone!” He reached down with his hook and tried to pry the gem free.

“That won’t work,” Galadriel said, infernally calm. “The Arkenstone is the heart of the elven maiden; the cutlass the heart of the Tuor youth.”

“That’s . . . morbid,” Legolas spoke up for the first time. He leaned over Killian’s shoulder in curiosity at the weapon.

“The elf’s parents were devastated,” Galadriel continued, and Killian wanted to scream at her to hurry up and get to the point of the story. “They enchanted the sword, protecting the Arkenstone with those runes. Then they constructed this altar. They were my great, great, great grandparents,” Galadriel looked up to fix her gaze on Killian, “and you, my grandson, are a descendent of the Tuor. That is why the earth and sea are so balanced in your blood. It is why you are happy in that quaint little town by the ocean. Why you aren’t fickle like your father was, always drawn to the open water.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “As fascinating as my lineage may be, I’m more concerned with the here and now. Mainly my ill wife and my kidnapped daughter. So if you could kindly get to the point.”

Galadriel pressed her lips together, then released a long sigh. “The runes foretell of a love that will make right all wrongs. A love between a redeemed one and a savior. Your mother and I have known for many long centuries that the redeemed one was you. You can use Emma’s heart to release the Arkenstone.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Take the cutlass . . . and run it through Emma’s heart.”

Killian tossed the sword upon the ground in anger. “No! Never!”

Galadriel picked the weapon up and handed it back to him. “You must. Trust me, Killian. All will be right.”

Killian swallowed hard, refusing to take back the sword. Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down at his wife and back at his grandmother.

“If you wait much longer, she will die.”

For a long agonizing moment Killian caressed Emma’s face. He couldn’t deny that her skin was growing colder and her lips were faintly blue. He took a deep breath and slowly took the sword from Galadriel.

“Consider it pay back,” Galadriel remarked with the slightest twitch of her lips.

Killian scowled openly at her. “That isn’t funny.”

Galadriel gave a slight half shrug, as if the entire situation was of no consequence. It irritated him and gave him hope in equal measure. He swallowed again, several times, his throat going dry. Tears welled up in his eyes so that it was hard to see Emma through them, but he didn’t let them fall. His hand was clammy as it squeezed the hilt of the sword.

“You must drive it straight through her heart,” Galadriel instructed.

“And you promise she’ll be okay?”

Galadriel nodded serenely. “I give you my word that all will be right.”

Killian took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly and raised the sword high, poised over his true love’s chest where her heart beat such a rapid rhythm, he swore he could hear it. He opened his eyes to be sure his aim was true and plunged the sword into Emma’s chest. Her eyes flew open and a gasp flew from her lips. Then she choked and sputtered in pain. Blood poured from the wound in her breast.

“K-Killian?” she asked in anguish, a single tear slipping from her eye.

The cutlass turned to ash and blew away on the wind, much like another sword from another dark day so long ago. The Arkenstone fell into Galadriel’s outstretched palm. With the weapon gone, Emma’s wound poured thick red blood. Killian cared nothing for the ancient gem. He fell to his knees beside his wife, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he choked out. His hand hovered over the rapidly bleeding wound, unsure what to do. “What’s happening?” he shouted at Galadriel.

Emma convulsed as he drew her in his arms. She kept trying to speak, but all she could get out was a broken attempt at his name. He sobbed as he held her in his arms.

“You said she would be okay!” he screamed at Galadriel. “Do something! You promised me!”

Galadriel still stood, so calm and regal before him. “I said all would be right. I never promised she wouldn’t die.”

“What!” he screamed.

“Killian,” Emma said weakly against his chest. When he pulled back to look at her, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands “I love you. Take care of Elien for me.”

Then she shuddered and went limp in his arms. Killian’s wails now were unintelligible. Legolas raced forward, his face pale, but Galadriel stopped him. The sight of her, still so self-righteous and calm, sent rage through him.

“You lied to me!”

Galadriel shook her head. “This isn’t an ending, Killian Jones. You are her true love. You still have a heart beating in your chest. Share it with her.”

A tiny flicker of hope flared to life within him, but it sputtered out just as quickly. “How can I? You said yourself her heart is – was – pure. Mine? It’s blackened. I can’t curse her with it.”

Galadriel shook her head. “Do you ever listen? Just like your mother before you. How many times have you been told that your heart is elven through and through? It is steadfast, loyal, devoted to a fault. And above all else, it is of pure origins. Men were molded of dirt and clay; elves were molded of the stars. They can never be fully corrupted.”

Killian didn’t know exactly where she was going with this (why did elves talk so bloody much, anyway?), but before he could interrupt her with dripping sarcasm, she reached out and unceremoniously yanked his heart out of his chest. He cried out in pain. (Seriously, he would never get used to that very unpleasant sensation.)

But when Galadriel held his heart up in front of his face, all the pain was a distant memory. For there, pulsing in his grandmother’s palm, was a perfect, pure red heart. His heart. From his own chest. If he hadn’t experienced it himself, he would have thought it a trick.

“B-but . . . how?” he stuttered.

“Redemption, Killian.” And the smile she gave him was gentle and kind. All he could do was swallow and give her a nod in return. He lay Emma down gently upon the blood-stained cloth of the altar. He then lay down upon the mossy ground next to her.

The pain he had felt when Galadriel removed his heart was nothing compared to the pain when she twisted it and tore it in two. He felt dizzy and disoriented for a moment, until she plunged half of it back into his chest. Life seemed to surge through him, and he sat up quickly and rushed to Emma’s side. He smiled tentatively when he saw the color in her cheeks, and he reached out to brush her hair from her face as her lips parted with a tiny puff of breath. Then he laughed with happy tears streaming down his face when her eyes fluttered open.

“Killian?” she asked, her brow marred in confusion.

All he could do was pepper her face with kisses and then draw her close, cupping the back of her head with his hand. She hugged him back, but he could tell from the stiffness of her body that she was still confused.

When she pulled away from him, she looked around at the blood, then touched the jagged rip in her blouse. She blinked several times then cocked her head at him and asked, “Did I just . . . die?”

Killian laughed again as he kissed her swiftly on the lips. “Yes, but you’re back. You’re back.”

“Wait a second,” Emma said, pushing him a bit roughly by the shoulders, “did you stab me, pirate?”

Killian glanced up at the elf queen and then gave his wife a smirk. “We can consider it payback.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly in the chest. She swung her legs over the side of the stone altar, and Killian put his hook at her back and took her hand in his. “Easy,” he warned, “you did just die, love.”

“Yeah,” she told him as she shooed away his fussing, “and I feel like shit, to be honest. How have you done this so many times?”

He chuckled again and couldn’t help grabbing her and kissing her again. God, he was so relieved that he hadn’t lost her. Emma laughed herself and gladly kissed him back. Then she shook her head and placed her hand to her chest in awe.

“Did you . . . ?”

He grinned broadly at her, but also couldn’t help scratching behind his ear. “Aye.”

She shook her head and kissed him again.

“I must say,” Legolas quipped, “you both really embrace this true love thing wholeheartedly.”

Emma pressed her forehead to Killian’s, blushing prettily. Then she looked at the elf and pointed a finger at him. “And you’re seriously Legolas?”

The elf sketched a quick bow, “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

Emma shook her head and glanced at Killian, “I can see you come by your cockiness honestly.” Then Emma saw the queen, who had taken a seat upon a throne of polished branches. “Galadriel?” Then she whispered to Killian. “Are we supposed to bow?”

“I think that ship has sailed, love,” he whispered back.

Galadriel spoke, “While I am grateful for the savior’s help in releasing the Arkenstone, your presence here is not wanted, Dunedin.”

Killian’s jaw twitched as he snapped a reply, “If you didn’t want us here, grandmother, then you shouldn’t have kidnapped our daughter.”

Galadriel arched one eyebrow. “That was Elrond’s doing, not mine.”

“Please,” Killian scoffed, “you’re the most powerful of the council of three. Even if Elrond acted alone, you would have known of it. Now what purpose do you have for my little girl?”

Galadriel sighed as she lounged back upon her ornate seat. “Our people are dying out. In particular, none of the council leaders has an heir. Arwen wed a Dunedin, your mother . . . “ here Galadriel gave a wave of her hand as if Brennan Jones weren’t even worthy of mention, “and Legolas here refuses to wed, spending his days fraternizing with dwarves.”

Legolas pushed forward off the tree where he had been reclining. “Why single me out? Everyone knows it’s rare for an elf to wed, even rarer to procreate. Why do you think we’re going extinct?”

Galadriel gave Legolas a withering glare, “As Prince of the Lake Elves, it would have been your duty.”

Legolas released the fists he had subconsciously been clenching and let out a quick breath. “Killian,” he said, taking his old friend by the hook and giving it a shake, “it’s been a pleasure, but I will take my leave.” He then turned and scowled at Galadriel. “Perhaps then her majesty can focus on the more important matters at hand.”

As for Emma, her mind was still whirling with the implications of Galadriel’s words. “Wait. You’re talking about heirs and the survival of the elves. You’re not talking about . . . I mean . . . my daughter’s only four-“

“And we wish to raise her as an elf in the safety of Rivendell. Messengers have already been sent to King Aragorn, and we hope a betrothal between Elien and his son will swiftly be arranged. They are both Dunedin, so it isn’t ideal, but eventually their bloodline-”

Killian and Emma spoke at once, interrupting the queen.

“Hell no.”

“Over my dead body.”

Emma reached over and put her hand to Killian’s lips, “I think we’ve had enough dead body’s for one lifetime, babe.”

He kissed her hand quickly then turned to the queen. “Emma and I make one thing perfectly clear: Our daughter is not a pawn for political gain. She will be raised by her parents, given the happy home we were both denied, and all decisions for her future will be Elien’s and Elien’s alone.”

Emma nodded firmly in agreement. “No one decides our daughter’s fate for her. No one.”

Galadriel hung her head for a moment or two, then lifted it to gaze intently into Emma’s eyes. “I know what it is to marry for duty. It is why I broke with the council over this.”

Emma’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

Galadriel rose regally, extended the Arkenstone, placed it in Emma’s palm. “This is the key. It can only be used once; to transform an elf into a human, fully mortal. Arwen and Aragorn sought it for ages to no avail. It was meant for you.”

Emma gripped the stone in her fist and turned a wary gaze to her husband.

“So that,” he asked, “will remove any elven blood from my daughter? She will no longer be part elf?”

Galadriel turned away and walked over to retrieve a pitcher from a table beside her throne. “Aye,” she answered simply before filling the pitcher from a stream of water that poured over a mossy opening in a nearby tree.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t like this, Killian. It’s still taking away a part of her. Against her will.”

Killian nodded in understanding as he closed his hand over Emma’s, the both of them now clutching the stone. “I know,” he said slowly, his jaw clenching, “but it may be the only way to peacefully take our little girl home.”

“Or we can bust in there and take her by force,” Emma snapped.

“Don’t underestimate the power of the elves,” Galadriel warned, “they are fierce warriors.”

“And there are only two of us, love,” Killian added gently.

Emma sighed deeply, her brow furrowed in concern. Killian knew she didn’t like it, but what choice did they have?

“Your mother,” Emma said hesitantly, “perhaps she can convince the Rivendell elves to let her go?”

“Don’t be so sure that you will find help from my daughter,” Galadriel said cryptically. She had moved to stand before a shallow stone basin filled with water. She gestured for them to come closer. “See what there is to see.”

Emma grasped her husband’s hook and found comfort in the nod of his head and his hesitant smile. They took their place in front of the basin. If this was anything like the movie Emma had seen, she knew what this was. Galadriel’s pool. The elven queen poured water from her pitcher in the water so slowly and carefully, that it barely made a ripple on the surface of the water. Emma leaned closer.

“This is a mirror into time,” Galadriel intoned, “showing what is, what was, and what will be.”

Emma glanced up with an arched brow. “Do you really have to say that? Or is it just for dramatic effect?” Galadriel pierced her with such an icy glare, that Emma quickly diverted her gaze and mumbled, “Sorry. Continue, your . . . er, majesty.”

“Another possibility is before you,” Galadriel said as the waters of the pool shimmered. A male elf appeared, with a tight, serious face and dark hair. “Elrond may be willing to trade Elien for the Arkenstone.” The pool rippled again and showed a happy family, an elven mother, a human father, and a curly headed little boy. “His daughter Arwen is destined to live a long, lonely immortal life. The Arkenstone can spare her that pain.”

Galadriel poured a bit more water into the pool, and this time the ripples caused the basin to shake and the water to swirl. Killian pulled Emma closer to his side as they looked down into the churning water. They both gasped as they saw Elien being pulled away by a group of elves, screaming, “Papa! Mama!” Emma clutched the front of Killian’s shirt, her heart breaking. What they saw next confused Emma and made Killian’s jaw clench and his hand tighten into a fist. Tauriel held the Arkenstone in her palm as a red mist swirled up from it. She seemed to breathe it in until the stone was drained of its color and it lay like gray rock in her hand.

“What does that mean?” Emma asked, glancing between Galadriel and Killian, utterly confused.

“She will steal it,” Galadriel told them, “and use it for herself.”