Disclaimer: The Hobbit characters and universe are owned by Tolkien Enterprises. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

The music of the fiddle danced with the light breeze. The fire fluttered light over the dwarf who danced around it to the cheery melody with leaps and pounding feet. Their laughter only added to the drunken merriment. The scent of ale and pipe smoke surrounded them, almost intoxicating the dwarves as much as their consumption did.

Eventually, as the Kíli's fingers bit down on the strings as his other hand seesawed the bow, Fíli exhausted himself, landing hard on his backside next to his brother. He took another drag of the warming fluid from the wineskin and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"All of Middle Earth is swimming," the elder brother laughed out.

Kíli shook his head, swaying with the directions of the motion. "No swimming for me tonight. I'd drown the moment my toes touched the water." He dropped the fiddle on his lap and took the skin from his brother, letting the last drops dripple onto his tongue.

The older brother took it back and looked inside the narrow rim, sighing, "Father is going to kill us for drinking half his store."

Kíli grinned before he started digging in the pack on the ground next to him, saying, "Ah, but I've brought a spare, my dear brother!"

"No, no, no, no, no," Fíli drawled out with a swaying shake of his head, "I've had enough. I'll be amazed if I make it home without passing out, let alone my bed." Yawning, the dwarf attempted a stretch, but quickly stopped as the motion turned him green. His arms dropped back to his sides. "Speaking of which, we should head back. I'm not sleeping on the ground again."

Kíli sighed, not ready to go back, even though some small, undrunk, rational part of him agreed with his brother's assessment. He leaned back against the tree he was seated at and looked up at the stars that barely showed through the canopy of tree. "Go on then. You drank twice as much as me anyway. I'll catch up. I want to practice my archery a bit more."

"You'll shoot yourself in the foot."

Refocusing on his brother, Kíli mock-glared. "You say that as if you'd like the fact."

"Trust me, Kíli, I have no desire to hear you whine for days on end about your girly little foot."

A booted foot lifted in the air. "Hardly girly."

The older dwarf huffed. "You could wear our mother's boots." He stood back up, wobbling slightly, and then started more or less forward. "Don't stay too much longer. I'd rather father not send me back out for you."

Grinning at his brother's troubles, Kíli purred, "You know, I may have pretty little feet, but at least I don't drink like a girl," He received a glare for it right before Fíli tripped on a jutting stone. "Careful now."

Fíli grunted, mounted his horse with an obvious carefulness and then rode at a slow trot into the trees, leaving the younger dwarf to his solitude. Kíli sighed, already missing him, but stood up and grabbed his bow anyway. Slightly trembling legs took him a short distance away, and he aimed at the target on a distant tree.

When he tried to aim though, the target kept going in and out of focus. Dark eyes squinted as the board seemed to do flips. He shook his head, eyes closed. He hadn't drank that much. Had he? A malfunctioning mind tried to count the number of swallows, but quickly gave up.

He stiffened his body, re-aimed, and then opened his eyes to fully align his target. Instead, a shocking, floating glow grabbed his attention at it blocked his vision's way to the tree. The glow hadn't been there just a moment ago. He blinked repeatedly, trying to alleviate a sight that wasn't supposed to be there. It took a few moments before he could admit the glow wasn't going away. Then the glow came closer.

The glow... He soon realized it was attached to a darker mass which pounded with the sound of hooves. The closer the apparent rider got...

Kíli squinted, wobbled, and finally lowered his bow he'd forgotten he was still aiming. After all, from what he could make out, this person had no obvious weapons drawn and approached slowly. Soon, the dwarf found himself looking further and further up, until his head was craning painfully. Whoever it was, they definitely weren't a dwarf. His hands itched to redraw the bow, but the other person's steadiness told him he didn't need to. At least not yet.

A teasing, probably smiling, definitely male voice murmured, "You might want to put that down before you hurt yourself, dwarf."

There was really only one race that said 'dwarf' in such a sarcastic way, like the word was unworthy to be spoken out loud. And what he saw, as the other person leaned down and over a bit, his hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, giving the dwarf a clearer view of his face, only confirmed Kíli's suspicions.

"A bit far from home, aren't you, elf?" Kíli attempted to put the same emphasis on 'elf', but it ended up sounding like a slurred drawl. Still nonetheless hoping the elf felt the burn, he added, "Didn't know they let you elves this far away from your mother's teats."

The elf's smile glowed brighter than his face, if that was possible. "I gave that up long before you were born."

Kíli looked over the other person, an elf who really looked no older than himself, and found it hard to believe. But he knew elves lived long, long lives, more or less a race of immortals.

Looking him over a bit more, he realized the elf was, well...

Stunning wouldn't have offered the slightest hint of justice. The elf looked far more female than male, at least compared to the dwarf's own race. If Kíli hadn't heard his voice...

A broad smile spread out on Kíli's face, the alcohol making this elf look so unbelievably inviting. Even if practically inbred hostility told him he should be chasing the elf down with his sword.

Yeah, so inviting.

"Would you like a drink to warm you on this chilly night?"

Dark blonde brows shot upwards, before the elf gave him a critical gaze, perhaps trying to understand his intentions. But really, what intentions could a drunk out in the middle of the woods really have?

The elf smiled again, though a bit more hesitantly. "That sounds... pleasant."

"Excellent, come," the dwarf said, turning around to walk back to the fire, "I haven't cracked open the other skin yet."

Behind him, Kíli heard the clump of feet as the elf dismounted. Those feet followed him, giving him the urge to look back, as not knowing what the elf was doing made his hair stand up, despite his drunkenness. But he reached the tree too quickly to bother.

A hand swooped up the said skin before Kíli could fall over, and he handed it to his new companion. "Drink slowly now. It's strong and might trample all over your soft elven sensibilities."

The merriment in the other's eyes arrested Kíli's breath, before the elf opened the skin, tilted his head back, and drank deeply, all without spilling a drop in a fashion a dwarf would have been envious of. Maybe elves could hold their drink. On this particular topic, he'd been grossly misinformed.

While the elf went on to surely drink half of it, Kíli watched with growing awareness of each swallow moved by the orderly muscles and tendons in the elf's neck. He couldn't stop his blatant stare, even when the elf lowered the wineskin and his gaze, meeting the dwarf's eyes with a smile.

"It's good. A bit unrefined, but good."

Kíli supposed he couldn't hope for a better compliment from an elf. He grinned. "It's the unrefinedness that gives it its kick," the dwarf murmured with a wink. He turned back around and sat next to the fire, leaning back against the tree where he'd been sitting before. "Sit. The fire is still strong enough to keep the chill away."

Surprising him, the elf sat right next to him, against the thick tree, just close enough that their clothing brushed together with any movement. The elf was much larger than himself, his one stretched out leg just a few inches away from the burning wood. Next to him, Kíli couldn't help but feel half his age. He looked up with cautious eyes, but saw that the elf had his eyes closed, his head back against the tree, perhaps taking in the sounds of the night with calm, steady breaths. The elf was...

So beautiful.

The elf seemed to sense the thought as his eyes opened and his head tilted down to look at him. A smile crept up on that pale skin. "Changing your mind about having company?"

"No, not in the least," Kíli said quite honestly, but embarrassing him after he realized he'd said it, as the words had probably said far more than he'd intended to let on.

The elf's smile lessened, and Kíli realized he was still staring. The dwarf looked to the fire then, clearing his throat. The skin was pushed against his chest.

"Drink. It'll calm your nerves."

Nerves? A dwarf did not have nerves around an elf!

Then again...

Kíli took the skin and drank deeply before handing it back to his companion. "So... What brings you here this fine night?"

The elf hummed his apparent amusement at the question. "I thought it was time to explore the world a bit. Not that my father appreciates it, but... He'll manage the months without me." He looked down at him again. "And you?"

"Uh, just passing the time, I suppose. Outside of combat training, well, I'm not an heir to the dwarven throne or anything." He shrugged. "Any duties I have are minimal."

The elf picked the fiddle lying carelessly on the ground. "You play?"

The dwarf smiled broadly. "Oh, yes. Music is one of life's few pleasures."

"Play for me?"

Smile dropping away, Kíli blinked at the request, so not expecting it. He reached for the crude device like he'd never touched it before in his life. When he finally had his hands on the fiddle and bow, he rested the instrument under his chin and played one of the softer melodies he'd learned, so as to not offend the elf's ears.

...And when did he start caring about an elf's ears exactly?

Almost immediately, a soft, fluid hum came from the elf sitting next to him, matching the pitches and tones as if the elf knew the song. Perhaps he did. Kíli found himself lost in it, a sound so much more exquisite than could ever come from the sorry piece of wood at this throat. He didn't realize he'd stopped playing until the humming stopped a few moments later.

Is anything about him not beautiful?

A brow cocked at him. Kíli blinked. Had he just said that out loud? Was he really that drunk?

The dwarf swallowed and whispered, "Did I just say that out loud?"

The elf smiled. "Yes."

A vain bastard, wasn't he? But Kíli didn't blame him. If he himself had looked like a god had come down personally and given life to a yellow rose, well...

Without warning, making Kíli suck in a breath, a hand came up and touched his cheek. The elf's soft looking mouth came down and caressed his own just like a breath of air, leaving him wanting more. From an elf. Yes, from an elf.

When the elf pulled away, the extra alcohol doing its work on the dwarf, Kíli grinned and wondered what his family would think, what his uncle Thorin himself would think, if they could see him. Well, after they beat him and then demanded answers, he'd probably blame the alcohol. If that didn't work, he'd blame his young body's needs. And then he'd try crying rape, if those two things didn't satisfy them.

Well, then again, suggesting rape probably wouldn't be a good thing. For starters, they wouldn't believe him. Furthermore, such a claim would be more like admitting what he wanted to do right at that moment.

But really, if they could only see how this elf held him like a lover would... Would they really want to beat him for just a caress?

But minutes later, what he and the elf did together, well... He knew there wasn't a sentence that could be spoken or a punishment worthy enough to save his hide.

And he let the night air know that with his heavy breaths and moans, as the elf stripped him, kissed, licked, and nipped at his body like he was delicious. Entered him so that he called out, not having the mind to care who or what heard him.

Was this what making love was like? He'd only imagined it before that moment. But maybe he was just drunk, delirious, feeble-minded, and unable to truly comprehend the reality of what was happening to him. He, a dwarf, wasn't supposed to like this coming from an elf.

But he did. So much.

When he awoke the next morning, he was cold and alone on the ground. Sitting up with extreme care, he cradled his head, and then realized, as the ground dug into his tender skin, his backside was still quite naked underneath the blanket. Tossing off the blanket, he struggled up onto wobbly legs and pulled his pants up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. And there the elf was, adjusting the pack on his mount, before he walked over to Kíli. And then the elf smiled, an expression brighter than the sun coming up steadily over the horizon. It made the dwarf cringe a bit in his embarrassment.

"For your head. Chew it. You'll quickly feel better than it tastes."

Kíli took the small wad of dried growth, shoved it into his mouth, and chewed it steadily. He shrugged and sighed. He'd tasted worse.

Startling him, a grunted growl sounded behind them. He turned his head too quickly towards it and cringed. The voice of his father said, "These are dwarf lands. State your business."

The elf next to him straightened fully. "Legolas, son of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm."

Kíli jerked his head back to his... What in the world was he to call this person?

And... And the elf had just said Legolas. Legolas! The son of Thranduil, an enemy to his people, his family. While Kíli wasn't the worldliest person, he'd heard of the King and his only son. And he knew well the animosity between their ancestors, some living, some dead.

Dark eyes went wide. What in the world had he done? And he'd been scared of a beating...

I'm going to die.

Kíli looked between them, mouth opened slightly, hoping some sign of mercy would shine on him that early morning.

"I was merely passing through, but I'll steer clear of your lands. Thank you..." Legolas looked to Kíli pointedly.

"Uh..." It took him a moment to realize what Legolas was getting at. "Kíli."

The blonde elf smiled, just slightly, not enough for the semi-distant dwarf to see. "Thank you, Kíli, for the directions." He nodded to both of them, mounted, turned his steed, and trotted off in the opposite direction.

Kíli, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off of him, even when he couldn't see him anymore. He'd... Well, he'd made 'love' with Prince Legolas.

No matter how much his body enjoyed that fact, he couldn't help muttering, "I'm dead... But..."

But then he smirked, biting his bottom lip, remembering the feeling of every touch, lick, and bite.

"It was so worth it."