In the time since there hasn't been a new Sigriel Week, I ended up joining this fandom, and fell in love with this pairing. Is there any chance there will be a new Sigriel Week one day?
No worries if not, just thought I would ask.
Either way, so excited to see you reblogging art for them! Thank you! 💛
Hi there! Thank you for the ask - it's always a delight to find more people who ship these two!
I've (mod @nocompromise-noregrets / likethenight on AO3) been a bit burnt out on Tolkien fandom the last couple of years and have been taking a break to focus on my original fiction, but I do still love the girls very much, and wouldn't be opposed to running another event, although I probably wouldn't have the energy to actually write anything for it.
Actually, what the hell, let's do an interest check!
Who's up for another Sigriel Week?
Me!
Not me!
Maybe me, it depends!
Voting ended onJun 26
And a shoutout to @myeaglesongwrites for reblogging a bunch of Sigriel art earlier this week which I just could not resist stuffing into the queue on this blog! Any of you out there creating Sigriel stuff, do feel free to tag this blog any time and I'll gladly reblog your posts - I am always delighted to find other occupants for this tiny canoe of a ship! <33333333
Sigrid took her usual detour through Dale, stepping over the remnants of its ruined buildings not yet repaired in the aftermath of the war. So many years had carried on and carried passed and carried around and still the city was not as it once was, in the stories many decades ago when the world had been different. There was much sorrow left in its fissures and empty houses where people feared to entered, should more grief await them inside.
But Sigrid didn’t walk through the market and wary streets to survey the sadness that she and her father’s people had come to dwell upon. She had no heart left for funerals or mourning lost kin. She had to feel some joy – however broken or forced – and it was clear she wasn’t going to find it within the city walls.
She slipped out the back gate to the gardens, watched over by the guards who had seen her come this way many times already. He knew not to bother her – not to call out if she required an escort. She was grown now, and the years of restoration had made her hard in places, but softer in others. Sigrid knew her father was relieved to see that she had not changed in the same way her siblings had; like Bain, who had become a soldier and taken charge of expanding Dale’s armies and allies, or Tilda, who was long-limbed now and as much a boy as any of them.
Sigrid had changed in her own, quiet way, keeping to herself and managing whatever was asked of her. She didn’t shy away from sparring any more than embroidery, but it was with the peace and solitude among the gardens growing just beyond the main walls where she felt most like herself again.
The gardens were still in their early stages – still trying to flower and bloom in the wake of another winter’s end and the coming of spring. Sigrid greeted the gardeners there, already tending to the beds and vines in the gathering dawn. She skirted them and went through another door to where the jasmine and amaryllis had their home.
She didn’t expect to see anyone there. A gardener, perhaps, but they were all with the vegetable patches, urging the tomatoes and potatoes to grow. But there, crouched among the jasmine vines hugging the wall with a dagger in hand, was a woman. A woman Sigrid had met before.
The Elf stood up slowly, her red hair like a flickering flame, bringing warmth rather than the pain Sigrid was accustomed to. She kept her eyes on Sigrid as she slipped away her dagger. Then, she fell smoothly into a bow, her hand at her breast. Sigrid started. She had never had an Elf bow to her before. Her own subjects only nodded their heads when she passed.
“Forgive me, my Lady,” said Tauriel. “I should not be here.”
Sigrid was rather at a loss as to how to respond to this, so she said, “What are you doing here?” instead.
Tauriel straightened up. If Sigrid was not mistaken, she looked bashful.
“I came for the jasmine. I have been waiting for it to bloom all spring,” she said.
“But why? Is there something special about it?” asked Sigrid, taking a few steps forward to examine the jasmine. She could smell its warm fragrance, and it brought a softness to her heart that she couldn’t explain.
“It is very beautiful,” said Tauriel. “That is what makes it special.”
“Don’t you have it in your forest?” said Sigrid.
“We did, once, and we used it to make perfume. But it does not grow there any longer. The sickness has spread too much, and the flower is too fragile.”
“That’s very sad.”
“It makes me happy to see it again,” Tauriel said.
“I ought to have you reported to the king for trespassing,” Sigrid added, raising an eyebrow.
Tauriel blinked. “If you must. I am breaking the law.”
“I’m only teasing you,” Sigrid laughed. “It is no crime to appreciate the beauty of a flower. Were you going to cut it?”
“No!” Tauriel looked mortified. “There is a sick vine.”
She knelt down again and drew her dagger. She took the dead vine between the blade and her finger and sliced it off, letting it fall to the dirt. She stood again.
“I ought to leave,” she said. “I did not have permission to come, or to be here.”
“Oh. But won’t you come back again?”
Sigrid couldn’t read Tauriel’s expression. She seemed... amused by the suggestion. The corners of her mouth curved into the smallest of smiles, and her bright eyes narrowed with curiosity, making Sigrid just that little bit breathless.
“A strange request to make of an Elf,” Tauriel finally said.
“Friendship shouldn’t be considered strange, no matter who it is between,” Sigrid countered. “I would not be here if not for your bravery.”
“Do not be so quick to dismiss your own bravery. There are few who can face dragon fire and not succumb to its flames,” said Tauriel.
“I still owe my life to you.”
Tauriel smiled again, her lips gentle and her wild hair dancing in the breeze. She was unfairly beautiful; like spring in full bloom, or sunshine through the canopy. But then, so were all Elves, and Sigrid could not be envious of that. She was happy simply to admire it, and to appreciate the joy in Tauriel’s eyes.
“I will come back,” Tauriel said, sheathing her dagger once again. “But I do not know when.”
“I come here every day, at dawn,” Sigrid said at once. “I’ll wait for you.”
Tauriel hesitated at the gesture. Sigrid could see that she was trying her best not to react, but finding it difficult. The smile would not leave her mouth entirely. She bowed again, her hand at her breast. She boosted herself up on a crate by the wall and leapt over it, disappearing with a flick of her red hair.
Sigrid stood for a moment, half expecting Tauriel to return. But she didn’t, so Sigrid knelt by the jasmine bush and took a knife from a crate of tools. She cut some stems, clustering them in her hands, letting the fragrance touch her fingers. She took them back to her room and set them in a vase by the window, dreaming of Tauriel’s next visit.
