Western wind, when wilt thou blow,
The small rain down can rain.
Christ, if my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!
—16th cent., anonymous

Kíli wakes with the cold point of her dagger against his chest. Her green eyes are deadly, though there is still a haze of sleep over them, and he guesses she is still half dreaming.

"Tauri— Tauriel, it's me," he mumbles urgently, before she can pin him to the floor of the tent with her sharp elven blade.

The muscles about her eyes relax now. "Ah, meleth, goheno nin." Tauriel lays the weapon aside and sinks down beside him again. "Forgive me. I am not used to sharing a bed." Her tone is shy, embarrassed.

"S'all right." He rolls over to embrace her and knocks his knees hard against hers.

"Ugh," he groans. "Sorry." He is no more used to a bed partner than she.

Tauriel only giggles and nestles closer to him, easing his legs about hers and twining her arms about his waist till they are quite snug.

She doesn't say anything more, but just lies against his chest, her slow, even breathing ruffling his loose hair so that it tickles his throat. Kíli lets his eyes drift shut as the sweetness of this moment sinks into his bones. He is alive, after the horrors of yesterday's battle, and once more in her arms. This is far more than either of them hoped for, two nights ago, when they pledged and consummated a desperate love. But the Valar must think they deserve more than that one stolen night together.

Kíli ducks his head and presses his lips to Tauriel's forehead, sweeps them over her brow, tucks a kiss in the corner of her eye. Her lashes flick him and she gives a happy little hum, half a laugh and half a sigh.

She lays her hands on his face, her touch tender and just a little clumsy because she hardly knows the shape of him yet. Her fingers sweep over his cheek, trace the whorl of his ear, and tangle in his hair.

"I love you, Kíli," she murmurs, and the words become a kiss, slow and deep. Kili manages to get one hand beneath her tunic, and she shivers as he tickles her breast. If only they were not here in the midst of the elven camp, or he should like to try making love to her again. He is sure he did not get everything quite right that first time, beautiful as their night was.

"Tauriel," he says, suddenly jolted from his reverie. "It's morning."

"I know," she returns, snuggling against him so that he will resume his caresses.

"I meant to sneak out again before dawn." No-one knows about them yet, and he had hoped to avoid awkward confrontations for at least one day more. There is already too much to do in the immediate wake of a battle without having to explain to his uncle exactly how he has secretly married an elf.

"Ah." Her mildly dismayed tone indicates that she has caught up with his practical train of thought. "And I meant to wake early and remind you to go."

He sighs. "Oh well. Perhaps it's best to get this over right away; telling everyone about us, I mean."

"Probably."

Kíli disentangles his arm from her clothing and reaches for his pocket.

"I chose this yesterday." He presses a ring—braided gold with a green stone—into her hand. "I'll make one especially for you, but you can wear this for now."

"I like it," she says, turning it in the light shining in under the tent flap.

"Here." Kíli tries it on her hand. It is too large for her ring finger, but it fits securely enough on her forefinger. He laughs. "See, I have to make you a new one."

"An elf would wear a marriage ring on this finger," she tells him.

"Perfect." He caresses her hand, then kisses her fingers. "Amrâlimê."

Tauriel brushes his cheek with her thumb before tugging her hands away to reach to the back of her neck.

"You must have a token, too," she says, and holds forth her chain with its pendant of a star gently encircled by sturdy thorns. It is a fitting image for their love, Kíli thinks.

She clasps the chain about his neck; her fingertips skim his collarbone, his chest as she smoothes the silver links into place along his skin. Then she settles her head into the hollow of his shoulder. "Must we get up yet?" she murmurs.

Kíli tugs the blankets high over them both. "Mmm. I suppose not…"