Disclaimer:Before I forget yet again, I own nothing of Tolkien or Peter Jackson. I'm just playing with the characters.
Author's Note: updated 24/02/14 (beta by crashlandthetardis)
WILD ROSE
Chapter 1
The cold outside did nothing to tamper the enthusiasm of the hobbits in face of the festivities. Bilba had told them, a long time ago, when they had still been on an impossible looking quest, under the terrible darkness of the Mirkwood trees , of that dreaded winter when so many had fallen. It had not been the best place to share about such a frightening time, but she had quickly continued to blabber about her cousins, who she cared for above all else. Fíli took a deep draft from his pipe, content to be sitting where he was. The bench left him wanting for nothing – except perhaps… He was strategically placed near the food and the ale. His personal favorite part of the bench was that he was in the best place to observe the improvised podium where the music came from.
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A year ago, he had heard Bilba's stories with eagerness, for it was contagious to get excited by the hobbit lass. He and Kíli would wait patiently for darkness to fall, to lay their mats near Bilba's, and to trade stories of their own. He had heard the merry stories of hobbit lasses like he used to hear the fairy tales his mother told Kíli and himself when they were little, or the stories Thorin had told them when they grew out of fairies and magical beings, and eventually the history Balin tried to hammer down their heads. They were far away facts. Good to know but with no direct effect, ready to slip to the back of his mind. They were a soothing balm for their spirits after a long day spent wandering through the evil darkness. He truly hadn't imagined Primrose as a real, breathing, solid being.
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Maybe it would have been different, if Bilba had told him about Rose's grin when she got her way, or the way her eyes would soften when Frodo fell asleep in her arms. She had certainly not mentioned the curve of her back, or the sweet smell of the back of Primrose's neck. He had not imagined how well those fine fingers could fit in his, or the way she would blush when she noticed him staring.
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Which took him where he was now, staring. Again. That much he knew, even if Kíli insisted on telling him so every other minute, either with a shove, a knowing smirk, or a loud snort. Fíli tried engaging in conversation with his fellow dwarves or with the Tooks at their table, but it would not do. His conversation would fall quickly, with Nori or Bofur taking it where he left it – which he appreciated – and Kíli giving him not so subtle hints. His eyes would drift away on their own accord. The one responsible for his dreamless nights was oblivious to the effect she carried with her, she probably still thought him to be teasing her.
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Her fingers moved quickly, strumming the cords of the small stringed instrument held in her lap. Rose had changed instruments once again, he now counted four. So far she had played the flute, a fiddle of sorts, the bells, and now the small harp. She would sing a song or two, trading off with her fellow musicians. Bilba had already told him that her cousin was greatly admired for her expertise in music. She rarely played at home, probably because of Primula, but she could easily collaborate with his songs if Kili asked – often with a loud whine for hearing the 'same old songs'. If you tried to compliment Primrose for her lovely voice, she would chuckle nervously, toy with a strand of hair and maybe blush, dismissing the flattery. She would say that it was one of the few talents she held and would change subjects. It was a lovely sight to see her singing. She didn't pay any special attention to the audience, her eyes held shut tightly. However, her voice lulled the room when it softened, and brought it to life as it rose. When she sang, the dancing floor would fill. Many couples danced to her tunes, making her the puppet master of their movements.
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"The lass never rest?" Bofur questioned to his left. They had been drinking and eating since they arrived. Bilba had given a tour, greeting old relatives and friends she had yet to see. She had dropped soundly between Nori and Bofur, taking the latter's hat in her possession. Dwalin had suspiciously disappeared yet again, Fili noted.
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"Maybe later," Bilba said, taking a gulp of Nori's ale, earning a shove from the red headed dwarf. She smiled innocently, taking another gulp. Nori rolled his eyes, and stood to pick them both another cup.
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"Oh, it had been such a long time since she sang!" One of Bilba's cousins said with a dramatic sigh. "Not since Poppy's wedding!" The hobbits by her sides nodded absently.
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"What if one wants to dance with her?" Kíli asked besides him. Fíli knew his little brother was not directing the question to him, rather to their burglar. Bilba laughed, not fooled by Kíli's discretion. She had been making very clear remarks to him all night. Fíli's attention was reclaimed by the object of his interest. Primrose took a second to push a disobedient dark lock away from her face, her eyes opening and meeting his before her deft digits resumed the merry song and her golden gaze was lost from his. He sighed.
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"Then you better be ready, for when she stops, many will fight you for it," the golden haired hobbit lass answered merrily, her form moving to the music with a wide smile on her face. "Rose started playing music to avoid suitors and the only good it did was to make them pile up!" At this, she stood from her place, grabbing the younger dwarf's hand taking him to the dance floor. Before they got away, he managed to hear a pun about elves for his brother and a wink for himself. Poor Kíli would never outlive his infatuation with the guard from Mirkwood.
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He finished his drink swiftly before standing, already loosing hope to share some time with Primrose. Yet when his eyes drifted to check on her, he noticed her absence from the podium. Another hobbit was singing sweetly in her place, almost humming.
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"Master Dwarf," a known voice whispered from behind. "You are not planning on leaving, are you?" He noticed her teasing tone. Fili turned to find her grinning widely, golden eyes still dancing merrily, which made him smile in return, his heart already feeling light, fluttering away.
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"I wouldn't dream of it," he lied quickly, not wanting to disappoint. She gave him a full grin, which made his heart miss a beat or two. He couldn't help but feel a bit weak before her dimpled smile, her sparkling golden eyes. The idiot hobbit who tried courting her, Hildigrim his name was, had said they were like warm honey. But Fili knew best, they looked like melted gold, bright and clear. His poetic reverie ended when he felt her pulling him towards her. For a second his ever hopeful heart thought she was about to kiss him, his eyes widening. But she turned quickly, without releasing her hold on his sleeve. He shook away his thoughts, feeling silly. Many times Primrose had said that hobbits were very prudish in public, though it didn't mean they were shy from private trysts. She had blushed a lovely shade of pink after she remembered to whom she was speaking. The current holder of his attention hurried them to the door, discreetly glancing to the sides. "Are we being hunted?" He couldn't help but ask when she opened a door and pushed him without much ceremony outside.
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"You owe me a dance," she explained as she checked if they were truly alone. When she was sure, she walked to him and stopped with a few inches between them, hands on her hips and a determined look on her face. His hands itched to touch her and close the distance, but he waited for her like he had done since he met her. He was so very close to tasting her, that he knew with certainty. There were a precious few times he had actually managed to steal sweet, short kisses from her pouty lips.
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"I thought dance floors were made for that purpose," Fíli teased with a smirk, pleased to be able see her cheeks blushing with the little light they had. Nervously, she brushed her hair away from her face.
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"It's not proper to dance more than one piece with a male that's neither your husband nor kin," she recited smartly, not noticing her slip.
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"Isn't it presumptuous of you to assume we'll be dancing more than one piece?" He questioned with fake outrage, his smirk widening along with his ego. She gave him a friendly shove on his chest, only to have her dainty hand trapped by his. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, her face feeling hotter than ever at the sudden touch. His unoccupied hand, by its own free will, moved to caress her warm cheek with the back of his knuckles. Something soared in his chest when he felt her lean to his touch, both face and body. How many nights had he laid awake, thinking about touching her and hearing what little sounds of pleasure he could get from her? During daylight his idle fingers would act on their own accord when she was near, finding excuses to touch her hair, to caress her arms, to hold her waist. At their gardening lessons, he had boldly pressed his lips to hers a few times.
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"Fíli," she whispered sweetly, her eyelids dropping shut. It took him less than a second to close the distance. It was the only permission he needed, for he had waited too long to truly claim his prize. His lips found hers swiftly, earning him a surprised hum from her. He tried to control his desire, to fill his needs without scaring her away, but as soon as she gasped, his tongue slipped inside of her mouth marking her as his. How sweet she was, how very malleable her tongue felt against his! She quickly followed his exploration with her own. Her hands found their way to his coat, pulling him impossibly closer. One of his hands trapped her waist in place, and the other moved to touch the back of her neck, immersing in the wild chocolate mass of curls of her hair, ever so soft. Whatever control he fooled himself into believing he possessed left his body when she moaned and bit his lower lip. She panted when they parted, her eyes still closed, her lips red and swollen from his attack. It was the way she was supposed to be, he told himself. He took her lips again and again, daring her to stop him, but she complied every time.
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He groaned, feeling his body awake and burning at her touch, his trousers tight, his control slipping. Her fingers touched softly at the juncture of his neck, slipping inside of his coat, giving him shivers and burning his insides all at once.
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When air became an issue they parted, but he continued to explore the surface of her face, the line of her jaw, and eventually her neck. His hands longed to touch what she so willingly offered, his fingers tracing the sides of her exquisite breasts. She whimpered and moaned sweetly in his ear, encouraging the touch. His hold on her tightened and if not for the propriety of hobbits, they would be at Bag End, with a feather bed nearby or in the worst case scenario they would find space in the barn she had shown him when they arrived.
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"Lovely Primrose, lovely wild rose," he whispered huskily in her delicately pointed ear, before dropping another kiss just behind it.
Question: the double space in is driving me insane, does anyone know a method that words without using dots?
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