Kira scowled as she finished tying the laces of her dress. It was, like most dresses, ridiculously tight, thus emphasizing her lack of curves. She didn't have much of a figure thanks to the intensity of her training regime…
A grim smile came over her face. That training regime was over. She had completed it, and she was the first female Dwarf in near five centuries to do so.
That smile disappeared when she saw herself in the looking-glass. The dress, despite her hopes, was not purely black like she'd wanted. It was only partly black with a sparkly gold sash around her side. Thorin was making her wear it, declaring that should she have worn the dress she wanted, she would look like she was at a funeral rather than her eighteenth birthday and completion of her training regime celebration.
So much attention, thought Kira bitterly. As if I need any of that.
To make herself feel better, she shoved a knife inside her pocket.
She sighed at herself. "Time to greet the rabble."
With that, Kira opened the door and strode into the hallway. Luckily, it was deserted. Thorin was not anywhere within sight, which meant she was free to do whatever she wanted until he appeared. Knowing that Dwarves she did not know were to be gawking at her and surrounding her in a matter of a couple hours, Kira chose to locate a couple whom she actually knewand liked.
She found them before long—as usual, they were in the stone courtyard. Kili had a bow in his hand with a quiver of arrows slung across his back, and Fili was throwing axes at a target. They were talking lowly to one another while Ori, whom Kira was pleased to see, sat off to the side, writing in a book.
Since the brothers looked busy, Kira sat next to Ori. "Good evening," smiled she to him.
Ori looked astonished. "Good evening… to me?" he asked after looking around. He didn't know Kira as well as Kili and Fili did, so he was surprised to be addressed by her.
She smiled again. "Yes, you, Ori. How are you?"
He swallowed. "I'm all right, I suppose. And yourself?"
Kira glared down at her dress, causing Ori to smile a little. "I can see now that was a silly question," he mused. Kira's lips turned upward and she was about to respond, but then there was a loud laugh.
Ori and Kira looked accusingly to Fili and Kili, but it was not they who had laughed. It was another group of Dwarves that Kira recognized, a group that thought they owned everything, including her. It was common knowledge that Thorin was becoming increasingly determined to find her a husband, and ever since that news leaked out, this group of Dwarves, led by a rather ruthless one named Zaithor, seemed certain that he would win Kira over through his riches.
As Zaithor and his posse neared, Kira squeezed Ori's arm and said quietly, "I'm sure your father will be looking for you soon. I believe he wanted your help with the interior design for this evening…"
Ori, sensing her tone of voice, nodded quickly and left.
Kira watched him go, and then walked over to Fili and Kili, both of whom were glaring with hate at the approaching group. Their hatred was spawned by Zaithor, who constantly bullied Kili. He claimed Kili was not a real Dwarf since he didn't have a long beard. Sometimes, when she tried to defend Kili, Zaithor would go after Kira as well—she had no facial hair, something she was actually quite glad for—even though it didn't bother her at all. But Zaithor would never pester Fili. He was smart enough to avoid that at least, knowing that Kira and Kili, what with their strong loyalty and impetuous nature no matter the danger, would rip his throat out if he did.
As Zaithor approached, Kira placed a hand on Fili's and Kili's arms. They glanced at her—Kili placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled a little—before turning their attention back to the impending threat.
It was with glares and scowls that Zaithor was greeted. He raised an eyebrow and gazed over the trio standing in front of him. "I must say," began he, his eyes lying uncomfortably high on Kira's chest, "You look quite lovely tonight, Kira Nightengale. I hope to see you later at the celebration?"
"I daresay you will indeed," said Kira. "As will everyone else present."
"I suppose that is true, seeing as you are the centerpiece for tonight's events," acknowledged Zaithor. He appraised her once more, his eyes raking over her cleavage and down towards the golden sash tied around her waist. "And with good reason, may I be so bold to say, my Lady."
Kili growled and took out his knife—to prevent him from speaking, interrupted Kira quickly, "No one may call me 'my Lady' save one." Her cold tone had reentered her voice. After hearing Zaithor's voice filled with a repulsive lust, she was no longer in a diplomatic mood.
Zaithor seemed to notice this. His cold green eyes, with the familiar glare of steel within them, moved from Kira to Kili, whose knife was directed his way. His smile became pointed like a cat's as he said, "Evening, Kili. Normally I'd ask how you were preparing for the celebration, but I do not believe there is much else for you to do except change into your dress robes."
Kira's grip around Kili's arm tightened. He glanced at her questioningly, as if wondering why she was preventing him from retorting when she had never done so before.
"And I'm sure his dress robes will be splendid," remarked Kira, raising her head. "I notice, Zaithor, that you are not getting ready yourself?"
"There is still a full hour before the event begins. And when it does, I shall be ready." But the smirk had faded slightly from his face, as if wondering why Kira was depriving him of his fun… Then his gaze landed on Kili's bow and arrows, and the smirk returned. "Ah, Kili, still taking pleasure out of mere sports, I see."
Fili frowned heavily and stepped in front of his brother, who had grit his teeth. "Archery is no game, Zaithor. It is a skill of battle and war, and is something you do not know of."
"Is that so?" asked Zaithor. "Anyone can shoot an arrow out of a string. Men, women… cowards." This last was said as a clear insult. "But it takes a warrior to take up an axe and charge the front lines of the enemy."
"Being an archer reveals nothing except skill, talent, and hard work," interjected Kira. "It takes those with appreciation for the arts to see its beauty."
Zaithor glared at her. It was clear that her emotionless tone was not giving him the results he wanted. Kira began to wonder if he might leave without there being a fight… But then he said, "Do not try to defend him, Kira, when you know as well as I that this boy is not one of our kind. How you are friends with him or his brother in the first place is beyond me, and the rest of the Dwarvish community."
That was it—Kira snapped. Her cool appearance had only been a façade the entire time, as if she would ever be able to keep calm while Kili or Fili were being bullied by low lives like Zaithor…
"Let it be known!" shouted she, releasing Kili's arm and taking a step forward, "That this supposed 'boy'and his brother are from the line of Durin, and are more respectable members of the Dwarvish community than you shall ever be, scum! Appearances and skill mean nothing when it comes to a race; are you so low as to believe they are? And hearing you now, believe me when I say that you may live a thousand lifetimes and never be worth half of the person Kili is at this moment! Nor, will I simply state now, will you be any closer to marrying me than he! I care nothing for whatever more you have left to say, so goodbye, and good riddance!"
With her spiel over, Kira grabbed the brothers' arms and swung around, her nails digging into their sleeves. She started to drag them off beside her when she heard Zaithor gasp to his followers, "Completely mad, she's becoming…"
Kira released Kili's arm to grab the knife within her pocket. Without a second thought, she whirled around and threw it straight at Zaithor—the knife whooshed through the air before embedding itself in a wooden column. Meanwhile, half of Zaithor's beard lay on the ground, severed from his chin.
His entire posse goggled at her. Seeing the stares, Kira bowed mockingly and asked, "Are you no Dwarf now, Zaithor? I believe I shall answer that; yes, you are, though you are not a good one. Now good evening."
And she grabbed the brothers' arms and continued pulling them across the courtyard into the castle. The entire way, Kili and Fili gaped at Kira, each of them telling her how wonderful her aim had been—clearly she had completed her training regime—no, don't worry, we won't tell Uncle—did you see the look on Zaithor's face—
"On Durin's name, Kira, you've gotten scary as you've gotten older," grinned Fili. His brother nodded as they attempted to reenact her throw.
They couldn't.
Once again they whistled out of appreciation, and then Kili said, "Well, then, my Lady—" Suddenly he stopped. A grin came over his face.
"What?" asked Kira, straining to not laugh of gratification from the brothers' praise. The smile upon Kili's face, however, was threatening to coax a laugh from her anyway.
Kili grinned and said to her then, "Am I an exception, my Lady? Am I the only save one who is allowed this nickname?"
"Hush yourself," scolded Kira lightly. But there was a smile upon her face as she added, "I can still take off your head should I wish."
With that, Kira clapped Kili on the shoulder and waved Fili farewell before taking off down the hallway. The sky was near dark, and Kira knew Thorin would soon open the doors to allow the celebration guests to come inside.