This was it, the big day of Thorin and Company's departure, though oddly they left with little enough fanfare for a king leaving to reclaim his own. Frig wondered if they shouldn't have organized more of a send-off for the chief and founder of their now prosperous community. But apparently Thorin hadn't wanted that. So instead, friends and kinsmen had simply gathered to see the party off. She stood back a little, watching loved ones take their farewells. Lady Dís was speaking earnestly to her brother, while her elder son, Prince Fíli, listened attentively. The younger prince had disappeared not quite ten minutes ago, and Frig feared he might be missing a last important scene.
On a sudden inspiration, Frig turned back towards the armory, where Kíli had apparently been headed when he left. If he was looking for some last-minute weapon, she could help him find it faster than he was doing on his own; her father had charge of Thorin's arms and she knew the inventory as well as anyone.
As Frig entered the armory, she heard a crash and clatter, and then a burst of cursing. As she rounded a rack of shields, she found Kíli amidst a pile of fallen plate armor, the set she had left out on the workbench to burnish later.
Kíli looked up at her, his expression slightly alarmed.
"Err, sorry," he said. "For the cursing. And also—" He gestured at the mess.
"Are you looking for something?" Frig asked. Of course he was, but she didn't want to embarrass him by asking outright what he couldn't find.
"Yes, I need a whetstone," he said, eyes already scanning the shelves beyond her.
"Over here, with the blades," she said, heading down the correct aisle towards them.
"I did check there already. I'm not a complete clot," he said behind her, his voice somewhat self-conscious.
"Aha! No wonder you missed it," Frig said, snatching an oilcloth off the small bin where the whetstones were kept. "Here," she handed him a new stone, letting her fingers brush against his, not quite as if by accident. Flirtation was their game whenever they met: Kíli was handsome and charming, and it had been so natural to play along.
"Thanks," he said, his face lighting into a smile that was more than simply perfunctory. "You're sharp as always."
"Keep using that, and maybe one day you'll match me," she said, flashing him an coquettish grin.
"Oh, I hope so," he returned in the same playful tone. "But I do have to go," he went on, hurried and serious once more. "Thorin's going to take my head off if we're delayed any longer."
Frig followed Kíli out of the armory, but before they rounded the corner of the stone building into the main courtyard, she caught his arm.
"Can you wait a moment?" she asked.
He stopped and turned to her. "Yes..." Kíli said, uncertain.
Frig looked up at him, her easy smile from earlier fading into something more tentative and shy. "I thought... Well, no-one's told you goodbye yet, has she?"
Kíli shook his head, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He knew what she had meant.
"I just thought someone should," she said softly, a little haltingly. "It wouldn't be right otherwise. You're going to kill a dragon, after all."
Reaching up, she took his face in both hands and planted her lips against his in a single, steady kiss. She didn't hold him long, unwilling to overstep herself, but when she released him, Kíli was smiling.
"I don't think that was enough for a dragon," he said. "Maybe for a goblin or two, but certainly not a whole fire-wyrm." Kíli caught Frig about the waist with one arm and drew her to him, leaning down against her to meet her lips. His mouth was gently insistent against hers, and she let him go on kissing her as she slipped her arms around him and buried her fingers in the fur trim on his coat. His other hand was at her jaw, his thumb working a steady caress against the little hollow below the apple of her cheek.
Frig was wondering if she ought to let Kíli go when she heard his brother calling from the other side of the armory. Kíli gave her one final kiss on the cheek and was just drawing back when Fíli himself rounded the corner.
"Kíli, where are—" Fíli saw them. "Oh. We're about to set off; you'd better come." He gave Frig a slight nod, apparently unperturbed to find Kíli in her arms.
"Good luck," she whispered as she let go of him.
"Thanks," Kíli said, meeting her eyes with one last direct and confident glance.
Frig stood with the rest of the farewell party as the company took their last goodbyes, and she hoped no-one saw her blushing as she watched Kíli exchange a kiss with his mother.
As the young princes followed their uncle out the courtyard gate, Kíli turned back and winked at her. She smiled.
Frig watched until they were through the gate and out of sight. By then, her heart had gone heavy and still. She did not like to see them go: Thorin—who was good, if stern—his two lively nephews, and all the friendly and reliable kin who went with them. The company was small, it was true, but the settlement in Ered Luin would not feel the same without them.
And whatever happened, they weren't coming back, even if they won their quest.
That was why a proper farewell mattered. Thorin and his men couldn't finish things if they weren't sent off right.
Please let it be enough, she prayed, and wiping tears from her eyes, she turned back to the armory.
Author's note:
In my fic So Comes Snow After Fire, Fili thinks it's far too much fun to remind Kili that Frig is going to remember that goodbye kiss he gave her back in Ered Luin. Obviously there was a story there, and so I wrote it.
Also, I realize this is totally heartbreaking if you subscribe to canon. Which I don't. I don't know if I could have written it otherwise; even I wouldn't have the heart.
But who said goodbye to Fili? (She asked herself, preparing to waste another night writing...)