Hollin, December 3019 TA
It was Gandalf's turn to keep watch. He sat over the embers of the fire over which Sam had prepared nutritious though artery clogging food. Despite his age, Gandalf was not worried over his health. The Maia expected the exercise he was getting in the mountain air to counteract the stroke inducing meals the stout Hobbit prepared. He hummed a tune and then mouthed the words that Bilbo had set to Quenya.
Long ago,
High on the mountain of Erebor
Lived a young dwarrow boy Kiliello
Who met an elf lass and he loved her so
Sylvan was she,
Came from a very low family,
Kiliello knew it could never be,
They ran away to their destiny
Here the sage's lips twisted in a mild snarl.
"That fool of a Baggins," – the wizard mused.
"So romantic. So prone to overlook the brutal practicality of the dwarves, always looking for anything positive about the greedy gits."
Nevertheless he continued to sign softly, the beauty of the song proving stronger than his knowledge of the events.
Running away together
Running away forever
Kiliello
Running away from danger
Hiding from every ranger
Kiliello
They knew it wasn't wrong
They found a love so strong
They took their lives at night
And in the morning light
They found them on the sand
They saw them lying there,
Hand-in-hand
Once he was done Gandalf sighed sadly and mutter "Romantic fool of a Baggins ... there never had been any "together" for them ... "
Erebor, December 2941 TA
"Kili, we have won!" – the ginger from the Mirkwood hugged the dwarf – albeit gently, mindful of the wounds she had just bound. Blood was seeping through the bandages, though.
"With everybody who matters dead we can run away and be together! Marry! Have more kids!" – the spider extirpator exhaled enthusiastically.
Kili, or Kiliello as his name would be rendered in Quenya, shook his head.
"No. What we had in Laketown was a great tumble. Fantastic. You were awesome! I ... " - The son of Dis glanced at his fingers and wiggled them thoughtfully, recalling the details of the wild tryst in an alley between boatsheds on the bank of the Long Lake, whose shape hinted at glacial origin, of being a water filled glacial trough; tectonic origins - a flooded rift valley or graben - was unlikely but could not be ruled out without further research.
"... I came four times! But it was nothing more than just some fun. I'm Prince of Erebor now and I have my duties to the King, Dain, now. You are too low born for me" – his badious globes gazed upon the elleth with a glazing of emotions which were close cousins to sadness and compassion.
"Had you been niece or something to Thrandy" – the prankish dwarf said – "a marriage would be possible. But I must marry according to my station."
Suddenly, unexpectedly, inexplicably, a crease of thought formed on the usually smooth as polished marble forehead of a certain dwarrow archer.
"But I can keep you as a mistress" – Kili perked up, recalling the customs of Men he had noticed during his fifty years of work as caravan guard amongst the Second Born.
"And if I get you with child you will get a doubled stipend! Triple if it's a daughter!" - the usually spadiceous orbs of the stramineous haired ravisher of maidenly hearts and underthings were now umber from the joy of finding a solution to their conundrum.
Kiliello was almost besides himself from the excitement of having had an idea, so rare it was! The inner light generated by his joy made his features - an adorable and irresistible mix of boyish and manly handsomeness - simply awesome! and almost melted the feral elleth's heart and womanly core. Almost ...
The zinnober eyed daughter of the forest snapped and gave evidence of her low breeding and succumbed to her feral instincts– Sylvan elves are wild! - and tore off the cheeky dwarf prince's bandages.
"Die, you cocksucking little fuck!"
And thus the handsome dwarow prince bled perfectly formed rubiginous clots unto the long cooled magma flanks of the hot spot volcano on whose snow sprinkled sides he lay.
Tauriel then sprung up and ran away shedding perfectly formed round tears from her viridian spheres. As she pounded the earth with long strides of her long and shapely legs with firm thighs and perfectly formed ankles her ginger hair flew in the wind with the weightlessness of dandelions.
...
Gandalf sighed once more at the events of seventy and eight years ago, at what could have been ...