Since I'm almost done with my other fic, I thought I'd focus my attention on a little plot bunny that's been hopping around my brain for quite some time. It's probably extremely cliched, but I don't care.

And yes, I really did go with that for the title.

Summer was just giving way to autumn in the Blue Mountains. It was a truly magical time of year. The leaves were turning all shades of scarlet and gold, there was a crisp nip in the air that meant the colder weather of harvest time was approaching, yet the air was still warm with the heat of summer. It was one of Kili's favorite times of year (he had several, depending on what fun things could be done—having snowball fights with Fili in the winter, or jumping into the pond on a hot summer's day). But it was autumn when Kili was the most quiet, which kept his mother, Dis, extremely happy. He would scoop a pile of leaves together and lie on it, looking up at the trees and the mountains and the sky above him for hours, occasionally falling asleep in a bed of leaves out in the open. Dis or Thorin would find him there, and bring him in and tuck him into bed, the smile still on his face. Poor Kili, Dis would worry sometimes. He was not like other dwarves. He could not be shut inside walls of stone deep within the mountain, never caring whether or not he ever saw the light of day. He thrived on sunlight and wind, delighted in the singing of birds, the way the light shone through the trees, sunsets. It would be a cruel person indeed who took him away from all that. He would die.

And indeed it was one of those days, summer turning to autumn, that Kili was not behaving like a proper dwarf at all. Dis had let him out to play in the fields that separated Thorin's halls—just a village, really—from the village of Men not far away. She had warned him to stay away from the human village, as the humans were distrustful of their dwarf neighbors, and would surely harm him. He merely nodded in understanding before bounding out the door with a basket in his hand. Dis had suggested that he might pick some apples so that she could make a tart. Kili had happily agreed. The promise of sweets after a day of fun—what more could a child want?

Kili skipped down the path that led to the fields bordered on all sides by trees. He knew if he got too close to the human village, horrible things might happen to him. So he stayed close to the borders of Thorin's halls, and, forgetting his basket, gathered up a pile of leaves and leapt into it with a joyful yelp.

"Hello!" called a voice from nearby. Kili looked up. A girl stood in the field near the trees on the adjoining side, a basket of her own half-full of apples. Kili stood up in his leaf pile.

"Hello," he called back.

"That looks fun," said the girl. "But Mama never lets me play. You're lucky." She came closer and waded into the flattened pile of leaves. Upon seeing Kili up close, she exclaimed, "You're a dwarf!"

He laughed at her surprise as she stared. She was taller than him, with fair skin and freckles, and green eyes. She was probably younger, too. He noticed that she had dropped her basket, as her hands were otherwise occupied covering her mouth.

"Kili, at your service, Miss." he said, and bowed. "What is your name?"

"Sarre," she replied, suddenly timid.

"You know, you dropped your basket. Am I that frightening?" Kili grinned menacingly, making a terrible face as he bent to pick up the fallen apples, and handing back the basket.

"Mother says dwarves are wicked swindlers," she said, extending a shaky hand for her basket. "What's a swindler?"

"I don't know." Kili replied.

"Well, I think you're all right." she approved, looking Kili up and down "You're polite anyway. I don't see why everyone thinks dwarves are so bad. One day I got lost in the marketplace, and a dwarf found me and said he'd help me find Mama. He took me back to his stall in the busy part of the market, and told me stories so that I wouldn't be scared. He gave me a toy, too, a little bird whistle. I still have it, though Mama doesn't know." she grinned, proud to share her secret.

"Did the dwarf have a funny hat?" asked Kili.

"Yes!" she laughed. "Very funny!"

"That's Bofur. He's a woodcarver, and a toymaker. Children always stop by his shop to hear his stories, and he doesn't mind telling them. I didn't know he went into the human village, though. No one I know ever goes there, except the very brave ones. They say it's dangerous."

"Dangerous? Why?" Sarre asked curiously, plopping down in the leaves. Kili followed suit nervously, fearing that he'd get in trouble if anyone saw him with a human girl.

"Well, my uncle—he's the leader of our people—says that when he goes into the Man village, he always sees people—starving people—asking for money. He says they will steal money from your pocket, or leap out at you from alleys and try to kill you. A lot of the starving people on the streets are children that no one wants, and it makes him very sad to see them. Dwarves don't have many children, so the few they do have are treasured. They're worth more than all the gold and gems in the world."

Kili had picked up a leaf and twirled the stem between his fingers. He looked away from Sarre and down at the ground. He'd said too much he knew. He'd only just met Sarre and before he knew it, he'd told her more than she should know about dwarves.

"How old are you?" she asked, out of nowhere. Kili knew this was a rude question for anyone to ask, but he decided to answer anyway.

"Ten summers," he replied shyly. Jutting his chin out proudly, he added, "Though I'll be eleven soon."

"Oh," she said nonchalantly. "I'm only eight. I'll be nine in winter."

They sat silently for a while, Sarre drawing her knees to her chest and gazing up at the sky. Kili flopped down on his back, gazing up at the sky. It was beginning to get darker earlier now, and the first stars were visible.

"I love to look at the stars," she said wistfully, looking down at Kili and then sinking to the ground beside him.

"Me, too." he replied, smiling, and showing the space from the tooth he had recently lost.

"I know!" his new friend cried excitedly. "We should meet here, at night, and look for pictures in the stars. Papa says they're there, but I've never been able to see them."

Kili shook his head, rustling the leaves beneath his hair. "No. It would be too dangerous. People would find out, and they'd be angry."

Sarre sat back on her elbows and tossed her light brown hair. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and drew out a small piece of white cloth stitched with blue and red at the edges. "Then here. Take this so you won't forget me."

"Why?" Kili asked, taking the cloth and looking at it curiously.

"Girls always give their handkerchiefs to boys in stories," she shrugged. "So they'll remember them."

Kili nodded at that, and slipped a pewter bead from the end of one of his braids, placing it gently in her hand. "Don't forget me, either." he said solemnly, fixing her green eyes with his deep brown ones.

"Oh, I won't." she smiled. "You're interesting, Kili."

Together they gazed up at the darkening sky, Kili forgetting all about the apples he was supposed to be gathering. He felt Sarre's hand slide into his as the lay side by side, the scent of dry leaves around them carried by the cool breeze. The sky turned from day to sunset to twilight to night. Somewhere in those hours both children had dozed off, and when Kili awoke it was because of someone's boot in his side.

"Wake up! Filth!" a man's gruff voice demanded. Kili winced as the man kicked him again, the pain jolting through his small body. Beside him, he heard Sarre screaming.

"Let go of her!" he shouted at the other man, the one who held Sarre. The man merely reached down and dealt him a smart cuff across the face.

"I'll do no such thing, Dwarf." he said, and spat in Kili's eye for good measure. Kili wiped it away with his sleeve, and stood there, his stomach bottoming out. He felt as though he'd be sick, and dropped down on all fours, about to heave on the ground, when a hand wrenched him up by the back of his tunic and he was slung over the back of the man's shoulder. The strong man told the other to take Sarre home while he dealt with the errant dwarf child.

"Kili!" Sarre shrieked from the man's arms as he carried her away in the opposite direction. She reached out her hand and he just barely grasped her fingers in his before they were torn away from each other.

"Sarre! he called after her. "The stars!" Look up at the stars, and I will be too. But he knew, in his heart, that they would never meet again.

She nodded, choking on her tears as the man hurried her away and she disappeared from view behind the stand of trees that bordered the human village.

The man held him roughly over his back as they made their way back to Kili's village. Kili grew dizzier and dizzier, until he thought he would pass out before the man ever found his home. His guts roiled with fear, and he knew that if the man did not put him down soon, he'd be sorry.

"Please, sir, put me down…I'm going to be sick." he begged. He wanted to cry, but he dare not, not in front of this violent stranger.

"I'll not let you down until you're home where you won't trouble us anymore. What do you think you were doing with my girl—asleep with her in the field, holding her hand?" he growled.

"Please…please…" the young boy continued to beg. He'd broken out in a cold sweat with the effort to calm himself down, but it was no use.

"Unhand him!" bellowed a fearsome voice. Footsteps approached, and Kili was snatched from the man's arms and held firmly but gently against a sturdy chest. It was Dwalin, his cousin, and he'd only just left his work at the forge, still smelling of smoke and steel. Kili said nothing, but merely watched as they approached his house, the strange man still following in their wake.

"What happened, lad?" Dwalin asked quietly.

"I met a girl…a human girl, in the field. We talked together and then…I guess we fell asleep. She wanted to be my friend."

"Hm," Dwalin merely nodded. "And this man found you?"

"Yes," Kili whimpered. If there was another person not to cry in front of, it was Dwalin.

"Well, here we are." Dwalin replied, meaning to knock on the door. But the man reached from behind him and assaulted the wood with pounding strikes. The door was flung wide, and out stepped Thorin, looking murderous. Upon seeing his cousin and nephew, his expression turned to one of surprise.

"What is the meaning of—Dwalin? Kili? I was just about to go out searching for… What in Durin's name…?" he exclaimed upon seeing the disgruntled duo of Dwalin and a strange Man, and a terrified and shaking Kili in Dwalin's arms. He motioned for Dwalin to go inside and set his quivering burden down. The Man tried to follow, but Thorin blocked the entrance, keeping him on the front step.

"Whatever you've done to terrify my nephew, I'll thank you not to do it again." he snarled at the man, clenching his fists with rage. "I assure you, whatever he's done does not warrant you frightening him so." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kili making for the backdoor, Dwalin following behind.

"He was in the field, with my little girl, and they were asleep together holding each other's hands!" the man shouted, and then, as if to demean Thorin further, crouched down to his height and sneered, "surely you know the implications of that."

But Thorin held his ground. "Sir, my nephew is very young. He does not know of those things yet. If I were to guess correctly, I'd say that they had merely befriended each other. There is no harm in that."

"Don't play stupid, Dwarf. You know as well as I that 'friendship' between our races is frowned upon."

"I do," Thorin conceded. "But a simple reprimand would have been enough. There is no reason for you to scare a child out of his wits."

"Your nephew has no wits," replied the man, without thinking. In an instant, he was on his backside on the dirt path leading to the cottage.

"How dare you?" roared Thorin. "Do you know to and of whom you speak?" he stomped out onto the front step. "You speak to the rightful heir to the throne of Erebor and the village leader, and you speak of a young prince who did not know any better!"

"Well," said the man, stumbling to his feet after the powerful blow that had knocked him backwards, "Perhaps you should teach your young prince some manners."

"That is my business, not yours." he seethed. "Now go back to your village, and let me never see your face at my door again." Slamming the door behind him, he whirled around to be met with Dis.

"Durin's beard," she exclaimed. "What was that?"

Thorin sighed heavily, sinking into a chair and rubbing a calloused hand across his face. "Kili met some little human lass in the field today."

"And?" Dis questioned, planting her hands on her hips. "Was that cause enough for—whatever that was?"

"He seemed to think so," Thorin muttered. "Kili and the lass fell asleep together holding hands. The man—her father—thought Kili had…disgraced her."

"Oh," Dis drew a breath. With her next one, she exclaimed, "But he's just a child!"

"I know." From where he sat, Thorin could see Fili's face peeking from the top of the stairs. "Go to bed, Fili." he ordered sternly. With a patter of footsteps, Fili retreated.

"Where is Kili?" asked Dis.

"Out there," Dwalin spoke from the back doorway, jerking his thumb in the direction of the privy. "That bastard scared him sick."

"Oh, dear…" worried Dis, tugging at her braided beard.

"Let him come in when he's ready," said Thorin.

Kili could hear Thorin and the strange man shouting even from the privy, where, if he were to be honest, he didn't know which end to put on the bench first, he'd been so frightened. Dwalin had brought him a light and left, telling him he'd keep an eye from the backdoor in case the Man tried to attack. Kili was grateful for that, at least, and that he'd kept his distance. As soon as Dwalin had left, he burst into tears. He cried as he retched until there was nothing left in him, and he continued while he voided his churning bowels, and on and on until he had collapsed against the wall, utterly exhausted.

Dis could hear her youngest son's heartbreaking wails even from the house. Thorin had to hold her back from running to him, explaining that the lad needed his privacy. He was right, she knew, but it didn't deter her from longing to wrap her little boy in her arms and tell him everything would be all right.

"He's slowing down now," Thorin noticed after a while. "Perhaps we should check on him."

Dis practically bolted out the door and across the yard to the privy. She could hear Kili sniffling, but it was nothing compared to the ruckus he'd been making earlier.

"Kili?" she knocked on the door softly. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"I don't feel well," came the weak moan in reply.

"I know, love. Do you think you could drink some tea?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I'm not going to give it to you in there," she said, trying to make light of the situation.

After a moment the door creaked open and Kili fell headfirst towards the ground, but before he could hit Thorin had caught him and steadied him in his arms. The boy had the perfect imprint of a hand bruised across his cheek. Thorin cursed his nephews attackers internally, but stooped to pick Kili up when his knees buckled.

"Steady there, Kili. Come on. Into the house." He shifted his weight and carried him in, trailing behind Dis. When he entered, he found that Dwalin had left. Just as well, it was going to be a long night.

Dis made some tea for Kili, and Thorin had wrapped him up in a blanket and sat him down at the table. After Kili had finished with the tea and declared he was hungry, Dis ladled out some of that night's stew out and placed it before him. As he took tentative bites, Thorin began to question him about that day's events.

"What exactly did happen today, Kili?" he asked calmly. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me."

Kili gazed into his bowl, unwilling to look at his uncle. "I met Sarre. We talked."

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing much. She had a lot of questions about dwarves. She says her mama thinks we're 'evil swindlers', but I don't know what that is."

Thorin smirked at that and urged his nephew to continue.

"I told her…I told her that it made you sad to see the hungry children in the human village. She said I was very polite and I don't think she thinks dwarves are as bad as everyone else there does. Oh, and we talked about stars, and the pictures that they make. The constel…constel…"

"Consellations," Thorin said.

Dis entered the room and took a seat next to her son. "Thorin, it was a harmless conversation. Why was the man so angry?"

"We fell asleep," Kili continued bravely. "And then two men found us. One took her away, and the other one brought me here." He added bravely, looking proudly up at Thorin, that he did not cry until he was back home and in private. He would try not to be frightened or cry ever again, he insisted.

"That's a tall order, Kili. You can't just…stop feeling things. It's fine, just as long as you realize there's a time and place." Thorin gazed sadly down at his nephew, remembering all the times he'd felt lonely and sad and scared and had to hide it. It would come with age, he knew, but Kili was so small yet.

"There is?" Kili questioned.

"Yes. But listen to me, Kili." he said, taking his small hands. "You must never see this girl again." The look of heartbreak on the boy's face was almost more than he could bear.

"But why?" he wailed.

"Because…." Thorin began, but Dis took over, wrapping her arm around Kili, who looked absolutely devastated.

"I know you want to be friends with her," she explained. "But…dwarves and Men generally can't be friends, especially children. They grow differently. She will grow up faster than you, my love. By the time you are a full adult, she may very well be dead."

"She…she will?" Kili sniffled into his mother's arm.

"Very likely. At any rate, she will be very old. Humans don't live as long as we do."

"Oh," said Kili simply.

A while later, when Thorin took him up to bed, his heart sank at the thought of the harsh truth his young nephew had learned that day. Dis's explanation had been enough; he didn't need to know the real reason why friendships between dwarves and men were rare. Hopefully someday it would not bother the lad, but he knew that Kili's gentle soul would be damaged by this for a long time.

Kili was nearing his sixty-third year when one day, Dis had told him to go through his things and find a few items he didn't need anymore, she would be giving them to a poor family who had just arrived in town.

He was rummaging through the trunk at the foot of his bed. So far he'd found a few tunics and pairs of trousers that no longer fit, but nothing much beyond that that would be of any use. He was nearing the bottom of the trunk when he came across a swatch of fabric, one white but yellowed with age, edged in red and blue. Taking it out, he realized what in was and instantly, his heart broke afresh. He remembered placing it there so many years ago, on a late summer's day when it was still new and white.

She'd be almost as old as me now, he thought. An old woman. Perhaps a grandmother. Or perhaps…perhaps…

"What's that? Fili asked offhandedly, sprawled across his bed the wrong way, his feet against the headboard.

"Nothing," Kili replied quickly, putting it back.

The stars, Sarre…the stars. Oh Mahal, I'm so sorry…

Why do I enjoy making the Durins miserable?

I love reviews! Reviews make me happy. Apparently making people miserable also makes me happy, but that's beside the point.