A/N: Wow! Such wonderful feed back for this fic! This little corner of the fandom is so lovely, long may the Kiliel ship sail in the deep seas of denial. :) Well, there is only one more part after this I'm afraid. I've only got enough time (and motivation) at the moment for one lengthy fic at a time, but I'm trying to do this prompt justice. Reviews are wonderful and so are you. Hope you enjoy this Irrel, I know I promised you a happy ending, so have faith! (This is a little angsty Aerelon, sorry! But it's my personal opinion you can't write a love story without a little bit of angst and these two have plenty to choose from.)
Reckless
Part Two: In Which Kili Proves the Stubbornness of Dwarves
They met every morning at the archery range over the course of the next two weeks. A silent agreement that Kíli wasn't about to argue with. As they trained (with less and less seriousness each day) he told Tauriel of his childhood. His years spent running amok within the cavernous city, admitting to her all his most embarrassing incidents if only to see her smile and to hear her laugh. She told him of her home, of the lovely dwellings built among the branches and the music that always wafted through their ancient halls. She admitted that she'd often felt lonely there, a little apart for reasons she couldn't understand, and how she had longed to see the rest of the world even as it grew further and further away from her.
He learned that she had a very healthy sense of humor and her wit was easily a match for his. He made a fool of himself, trying to show off in any way he could think, but she only smiled and shook her head, eyes alive and sparkling. She asked after the braids in his hair and he explained what each one was meant to represent, all the while trying not to think of the secret meanings he'd like to weave into hers. She taught him phrases in Sindarin and explained the subtle differences between Silvan and Sindar Elves while he told her of things he shouldn't, things that would cause his Uncle to go blue in the face. And every day he felt the cultural and racial differences between them fade away until it was as though they had never existed at all.
In a few short days she knew him better than anyone save his brother. He confessed his own difficulty in finding his place in the world and how he was sure he was constantly letting everyone down. She told him stories of brave heroes and talked of times before he'd even been a thought in his mother's mind, when things had been a little brighter and the horizon a little less shadowed.
"Our Kingdom shrinks a little more each decade," she said quietly as they sat, resting briefly on a low stone bench with their bows at their sides. "The darkness in our forest grows more each day, but rather than combat it we cower and flee." Her voice had taken on a heavy, bitter quality, eyes flashing.
Kíli frowned, letting his head fall back, "My great-grandfather and grandfather died a few years before I was born, attempting to retake Khazad-dûm, and then the Queen when I was just a dwarfling. Because of it, or perhaps in spite of it, my Uncle sees little these days beyond our Lonely Mountain, though there are whispers of an enemy stirring to the North. We sit among our jewels and stone caves rarely looking outside."
"Perhaps our people have more in common than they realize," she said, and he chuckled darkly. "We've both gotten quite good at forgetting that we too have a place in this world."
Their eyes met, and a deep, pervasive understanding passed between them. He knew she had to be much older than he, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, but time did not exist, or maybe it simply no longer mattered. There was only light, as precious and pure as her stars.
"What good are any of us if we let evil dwell and grow, unchallenged, unchecked?" She asked, impassioned, an old pain clouding her gaze before she looked away. "What good is there in this world if we do not seek to change things, to make them better?"
"Tauriel-" He began, but she shook her head and gave him a soft smile that tugged at his heart. There was a strange sadness about her, a sense of one who had lost much and he longed to reach out and take her hand between his. He might have if she hadn't rose gracefully to her feet, gathering herself between one breath and the next.
"Come, best two out of three?" She challenged, her eyes pleading him to leave the subject behind.
"You're on," he said, though he would have preferred to talk the day away with her, listening the cadence of her voice and learning each and every one of her expressions.
"I was thinking, Uncle," Kíli said casually over breakfast the next day, "that maybe I could take some of the Elves on a tour of the markets." It was just the two of them in the private dining room of the royal family. He'd carefully ensured that his brother and mother were gone before speaking, lingering over his meal as one by one all the chairs had emptied. Thorin looked up from a lengthy report, clearly surprised he was still there.
"What now?" He asked, already apprehensive.
Kíli cleared his throat and attempted to look casual and unaffected, "Oh well, I was just thinking that it might be uh, informative, if we gave the Elves a bit of tour, let them see how dwarves really live."
Thorin raised one brow skeptically, "You honestly believe King Thranduil would be interested in seeing the lower levels of the city? I'm not entirely sure he would appreciate the mud wrestling and pig races, Kíli."
"Alright, perhaps the King might not be interested, but some of the others might and I thought the idea was to well, you know," he waved a hand awkwardly, "strengthen ties and share cultures."
There was a pregnant pause as his Uncle's eyes narrowed, "Correct me if I'm wrong, nephew, but are you volunteering to take a group of Elves on a cultural tour of Erebor."
He could feel heat clawing its way up his neck and he shrugged his shoulders a little, "Um, I guess? I mean yes, yes I am."
Thorin set his report carefully aside and leaned forward, tenting his fingers before him as his eyes bored into Kíli's. It took a supreme amount of effort not to fidget.
"This is a good idea," Thorin said reluctantly as though he could hardly believe the words he was speaking. "I will have Balin arrange things."
Kíli smiled with relief, "Thank you Uncle-"
"I expect you to lead this tour Kíli, no ducking out last minute."
Kíli shook his head and rose from his seat, hoping his excitement wasn't written all across his face, "Of course not, wouldn't even dream of it."
Thorin still looked suspicious as Kíli bowed and turned to leave, eager to tell Tauriel of his plan and hoping she would agree to go.
"And Kíli," his Uncle called and he turned at the door, "I'm pleased to see you taking a keener interest in politics. I know they are tedious, but someday, when your brother is King, he will need your help."
Kíli bit his lip, guilt curling briefly in his stomach, "Thank you Uncle, I will do my best."
"Is it always so loud?" Prince Legolas complained mildly, cringing slightly as the horn player hit a particularly high note. The Elven Prince seemed as reluctant to be involved with their little tour as Kíli was to have him there.
"I think they're showing off for you actually, your highness," Kíli said cheerfully.
They were in the Sapphire District, one of his favorite places to frequent with his brother when they could slip away. It had the best taverns, food, music… and yes, women. But he was currently more interested in one woman in particular, and in showing her all that dwarven culture had to offer.
"Perhaps we should move along," Balin suggested awkwardly –poor dwarf looked as though he'd aged thirty years in just three weeks- and motioned them away from the lively gathering at the center of one of the larger courtyards.
Kíli glanced at Tauriel, dressed in her armor with her hand on her sword, and was pleased to see she was smiling as she took in the sights. The courtyard was teeming with dwarves, all of them eager and exited to have their Prince among them with such notable strangers in tow. His people had embraced the opportunity to showcase their culture with a determination he hadn't anticipated. Everywhere he looked there were carts laden with swords, silks, toys and clever little mechanical machines. Jugglers, fiddlers, flame eaters and tricksters lingered at every corner, luring thick crowds around them. Apparently their hatred for Elves was tempered only by their desire to impress them.
As Balin attempted to explain to Legolas the significance of certain types of architecture, Kíli slipped in alongside Tauriel.
"So, what do you think?" He asked, smirking.
She grinned down at him, eyes dancing, "It's certainly a lively place. What were they singing about?"
He shrugged, "Just an old mining song, a lot about swinging pick axes and the sky raining gems. Maybe a bit about beards and cutting the heads off Orcs and dancing on their corpses..."
"How very dwarvish," she teased.
"You mean it's deeply symbolic and philosophical?"
"Of course," she agreed deadpan for a moment before they both laughed.
Balin drew the Elf Prince to a large cart, which sported a variety of fine dwarven made swords and the Prince actually appeared faintly interested for the first time that afternoon. Confident Legolas was distracted, Kíli urged Tauriel to another stall nearby.
"They're beautiful," Tauriel breathed, running her fingers over a fine silver and emerald hair bobble.
"You'll not find any finer in all of Erebor, my lady," the stall keeper said proudly, puffing out his chest and stroking his long silvery beard.
"The work is so fine," she murmured, touching a particularly impressive piece that had been carved into the shape of a fire breathing dragon, each of its scales perfectly detailed and its ruby eyes catching the light so that they seemed truly aflame. "It seems alive."
Kíli, feeling strangely foolish, lifted up a simple necklace made of fine threads of mithril which dripped with tiny emeralds that were the exact color of her eyes. He'd never given jewelry much thought but the piece seemed made for her. Looking at it made his stomach flutter in the oddest way. He was beginning to understand why he'd occasionally caught Fíli mooning over fine bits of cloth and trinkets when he thought no one was looking.
"The chains are so thin, like spider's silk," Tauriel said softy, glancing over his shoulder, her tone faintly covetous.
"A gift," the cart keeper said with a slight bow, "For the lovely lady."
Tauriel jerked back and shook her head fervently, "Oh, I couldn't possibly."
The shop-keep opened him mouth to insist further, but Balin called for their attention and, looking equal parts wistful and relieved, she hurried to Legolas's side.
Kíli looked down at the jewelry in his hands and then fished out a handful of coins, aware it was probably too much and not caring in the least.
"Wrap this up for me, would you?"
"Certainly, your highness," the stall-keep said, his voice carefully neutral but his eyes knowing.
The tavern was near bursting at the seams and Prince Legolas was clearly close to refusing to enter within, but Kíli watched as the Elf glanced at his Guard Captain's eager face and his crumpled slightly in defeat. Suddenly Kíli got the strange sense that there was more than mere professional courtesy between them, specifically on the Prince's part. Kíli swallowed against a sudden and irrational anger, forcing a pleasant smile that skittered around his teeth.
"First round is on me!" He called with a wink and Balin rolled his eyes helplessly. Thorin had said the tour was his responsibility and what sort of host would he be if he didn't treat their distinguished guests to all the wonders his people had to offer? Specifically their ale.
Clutching four frothing mugs between his fingers, he shoved one at each member of their party and then held his aloft.
"To forging new friendships and new alliances," he said brightly. His gaze held Tauriel's pointedly as she raised her mug and took a hesitant sip, her cheeks flushing slightly as an unspoken understanding lingered in the air. Kíli didn't miss the way the Prince's eyes narrowed perceptively as they flickered back and forth between them. Kili couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at the corners of his lips a moment before he took a long swallow of the sweet, warm brew.
"Prince Kíli!" A familiar voice called and Orí burst from the crowd, looking bright and eager until he took in the two Elves as they towered over everyone else. He wasn't sure how the other dwarf had missed them, but Orí wasn't known for being particularly observant. Too much time with his nose buried in dusty tomes.
"Oh ah," he cut an awkward bow, "Your highness, my, er, lady."
Kíli tugged the dwarf into a rough side-armed hug and said, "Cousin Orí, I present to you Prince Legolas of the Woodland realm and the Lady Tauriel, Captain of the Royal Guard."
"A-A pleasure," Orí stammered, his face a bright flaming red.
Legolas gave a faint nod, sniffing sourly at his ale, and Tauriel bowed, smiling kindly. "A pleasure Lord Orí," she said, sending the dwarf into a fit of blushes and smiles, obviously rather smitten with her.
"How goes your work at the Library?" Kíli asked the other dwarf sympathetically.
"O-Oh, very well, yes, very well indeed. But Norí and I were hoping you'd be willing to play us a tune, seems the tavern's fiddler has skipped out."
It was Kíli's turn to flush, "Oh, I uh, I don't know about that Orí, you see I'm supposed to showing Prince Legolas about and-"
"Please," the Prince in question said, his eyes glinting maliciously, "I would be delighted to hear you play, your highness."
Kíli fought down a glare, reading the silent dare in the other Prince's eyes, and determinedly set himself to the task.
"Alright Orí," he said firmly, "I'm assuming you've got a fiddle handy?" He shoved his ale at Balin, who looked ready to go into conniptions, and followed after his eager cousin.
A moment later, with fiddle in hand, he leapt up onto the center table to a roar of cheers. Kíli swept a flamboyant bow to the room, shot a saucy wink at Tauriel - relishing in the furious look in Legolas's eyes- and cried, "Sing along if you know it lads and lasses!"
He began stamping his foot to set the rhythm, which was taken up immediately and eagerly by the tavern patrons, and then he set bow to fiddle and began a lively, difficult tune. It took only a few vibrant bars before the building shook with raised dwarven voices as they sang the song in the common tongue. All the while Kíli held Tauriel's eyes, drinking in her smile and the warmth in her gaze as she clapped along, and it may as well have been just the two of them for he was playing just for her and she had eyes only for him.
He caught her in the halls the following afternoon on his way to meet with his brother and Uncle. She looked distressed.
"Tauriel," he blurted, concerned. "What is it, are you well?"
She started, obviously surprised by his presence and schooled her features into a careful, cold mask, the likes of which he had not seen since their first meeting on the battlements.
"Fine, your majesty." She said crisply, avoiding his gaze and he frowned, sensing that something was very wrong.
"Are you sure there is nothing I can help you with-"
"Tauriel," came a stern voice and he turned to find the Prince Legolas staring at him with naked disapproval in his eyes.
"Pardon me, my lord," she said and swept past her Prince and down the hall without a backward glance at either of them.
The Prince held Kíli's gaze for a long moment, his eyes challenging and foreboding as a wordless warning passed between them. Kíli's eyes narrowed, unflinching though his heart trembled with trepidation. The Prince left him a moment later without another word as a lump formed in Kíli's throat.
Tauriel avoided him after that. She did not come to the training grounds and would not look at him when circumstances put them in the same room. The Prince Legolas looked smug and Kíli had to fight the urge to knock the smirk off his pretty face. Whatever had happened, he had no doubt that the Elven Prince was responsible.
As the days passed, her avoidance made him increasingly surlier and more agitated while in company.
"What has gotten into you," Fíli demanded one morning over breakfast when he'd snapped at a severing maiden for dropping his fork.
Kíli scowled and looked away, "Nothing."
Fíli glared in turn, "You've been acting like an angry sow for the past three days, what is it? Dwalin been after you again-"
"Leave it be, Fee," he said bitingly and rose from his seat, suddenly not the least bit hungry.
Fíli caught his arm and forced Kíli to turn and meet his eyes, "If this is about that She-Elf, let it go Kee. I know you haven't noticed, but negations have been tense, the last thing we need is-
Kíli flinched away from him as though burned and yanked his arm furiously from his grasp, "I said leave it be Fíli. It's none of your damned business."
Fíli's face tightened as hurt clouded his expression but Kíli turned away and stomped out of the suddenly silent room. He needed to clear his head.
As fate would have it, Tauriel was walking the battlements again. Her face was turned to the late autumn wind, her eyes closed as her long hair fluttered behind her like a banner. His stomach fluttered and his heart did a mad little flip as it always did when he looked on her, but Kíli gathered his courage. Squaring his shoulders, he approached her, intent on getting some answers.
"You're avoiding me," he said and she whirled in surprised and then turned away again when she saw that it was him.
"Of course not, I am very busy-"
"Mahal's arse, you won't even look at me." He challenged, his fists balling at his sides. He knew he was behaving poorly but her avoidance and the Elven Prince's mockery had stirred something strangely akin to jealousy within him.
She shot him a glare, "And why should I look at you? What am I to you but a lowly elf in the service of my King-"
"Lowly?" He cut her off, stunned. "How could you possibly think yourself lowly."
Her scowl deepened and she paced away. "Do not mock me," she spat, her voice quivering with barley contained fury.
Kíli stomped after her, his recklessness getting the best of him as he darted forward to cut off her escape. He was shocked to find tears swimming in her eyes.
"Forgive me, Tauriel, I did not mean to upset you," he said, much of his anger leaving him, and reached for her hand without thinking, his fingers closing around hers. It was like someone had struck a spark between them and the flames that had merely flickered before roared to life. A deep shudder racked through her and into him as her pupils dilated tellingly.
"How could you possibly believe yourself to be lower than me, or anyone else?" He asked softly and in earnest, unconsciously stepping closer to her.
She took a trembling breath, "This is insane, Kíli. What's between us…."
He chuckled and pulled a watery smile from her, "Well, you know what they say about dwarves. They're completely stubborn and lack the most basic forms of common sense."
She raised a quivering brow at him, "Is that what they say?"
He shrugged, brushing his thumbs over her palms, "Well, perhaps they only say it about one dwarf in particular."
She grinned a little and this time it reached her eyes and he could feel the tension leaking out of her, "I wonder who that could be."
He hummed in the back of his throat and took another step toward her, guiding her to a secluded crevice that was shadowed by the mountain above. "You know, I haven't the faintest."
"Kíli," she murmured, fear, longing and uncertainty warring in her eyes and he reached up to cup her cheek, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. She closed her eyes and, with a shuddering sigh, pressed her face into his palm.
"My mother says I'm reckless," he admitted at a murmur, stepping closer to her still and catching her scent on the breeze- something sweet and herbal with an undercurrent of leather that coiled tightly in his groin.
Her eyes remained closed as she said, "And are you?"
He threaded his fingers into her hair, relishing in the softness of it, and angled her face down toward his. "Nah," he whispered a moment before he pressed up a bit on his toes and caught her lips in his, swallowing her startled gasp.
He'd kissed more than a few maids in his life -and a little more besides- but this was nothing like those foolish and hasty conquests. His blood sang in his ears and the world melted away. It was as though he hadn't truly existed until this moment, which might have been terrifying if it hadn't felt so wonderful. It was like being born again.
She was hesitant and sweet and unsure as he molded his mouth to hers. But her hands reached, finding his face and hair, running over his beard as if fascinated by the texture as he gently probed at her lips with his tongue. She trembled and parted them as he delved inside, claiming her in an instant as his fingers swept upward to caress her ears, drawing a soft squeak from the back of her throat that pulled an answering growl from his chest.
It was she who pulled away first, bracing her forehead against his as their breathing slowed. "We shouldn't," she whispered unconvincingly.
"We should," he countered, and kissed her again.
"I can't stay long," she whispered as the sun set golden in the sky, softening her features and sparkling in her eyes. He reached out and followed a strand of her hair over the slope of her neck and across her collar bone, enjoying the way his touch made her tremble. It was just after the evening meal and they'd only barely managed to slip away unnoticed.
"I know," he murmured and then bent forward to retrace the path his hand had started with his mouth. She whimpered softly in response and her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently. Sure that she was properly distracted, he slipped the necklace up and around her throat and clasped it quickly at her nape before she could react. He'd been practicing the movement in his room alone at night for days; not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
He pulled back, pleased with himself, and she touched the fine threads with wide eyes. "Kíli I can't-"
"It's a gift," he said smiling and feeling like a blushing lad barely into his thirties.
She shook her head and made to take it off, "It is too fine a present-"
He gently drew her hands down and kissed along the knuckles of each one, "There is no gift fine enough."
Her mouth quirked ruefully as she said, "There's nothing I can say that will make you take it back, is there?"
He grinned broadly as he let his fingers trail across the ultra-fine strands and the warm, incredibly soft skin beneath, dangerously close to the tantalizing swell of her breasts above the cut of her tunic.
"Not a single thing."
"Stubborn Dwarf," she accused even as her head tilted down toward his and her fingers skimmed along his jaw.
"Headstrong Elf," he countered as he drew her lower lip slowly between his, teeth nipping gently, and eagerly devoured her responding moan.
"They died when I was very young," she whispered after a long silence, as the torch light flickered low, casting long, strange shadows down the little used corridor. Years of eluding his responsibilities had left Kíli with plenty of locations to whisk her away to.
He took her hand wordlessly in his and held it, his heart aching for her.
"How?" He encouraged, sensing that, despite her reluctance, it was something she wanted to tell him.
She took a deep breath, ducking her head so that her hair swung forward to shield her expression, "An Orc party, as they returned from a hunting trip."
He swallowed heavily and held her hand tightly.
"I- well, I barely remember them now, but I… lost something that day," she continued on, raising her head at last so that he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. "I nearly faded away, it was the King who pulled me back, who took me in, who gave me a new sort of life." Her voice had taken on a bitter quality and she shook her head.
"He crafted me into a weapon, a sword to be pointed in whatever direction he saw fit. And for a long, long while I forgot what it felt like to… feel anything. I convinced myself that I didn't need to, that compassion and kindness were weaknesses only to be exploited."
She turned to him and gave him a sad smile that blossomed into one of fond gratitude, "You've reminded me of what I lost that day, so long ago. What it means to have passion and joy, and... whatever happens between us Kíli, I will be forever grateful to you for that."
"Tauriel," he breathed and swept away the single tear that had slipped from beneath her lashes. "You've given me direction, purpose, I have never felt anything like this before. I-you're-"
"Shh," she murmured and set her finger lightly to his lips, her eyes fathomless and sad. "This is enough. It may be all we ever have."
He pulled her head downward with a low growl and placed a hard kiss to her forehead, "I swear it will not be," he whispered vehemently against her skin, branding her with his promise. "I swear it."
"Will they not see it?" Tauriel asked, her voice soft and her tone difficult to read. He couldn't see her face, what with her back turned to him, but he suspected she was frowning. He ran a soothing hand down her arm and placed a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of her neck, eliciting a soft sigh as some of the tension leaked out of her.
"You have so much hair," he said in half answer and half loving observation. "I'll make it small and you can weave it back with the rest of your hair," he reasoned, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Since the moment he'd met her everything seemed to have become a blur, the world and events within it racing past him as they caught him up, pushing him helplessly along.
Mahal help him he wanted her so badly it was a physical pain. He wanted to slowly remove the layers of her clothing just as much as he wanted to remove the layers of her heart, until they were both left naked and bared to one another with nothing but light and song between them. He wanted to capture her laugh and keep it with him always. He wanted to see her smile anxiously every day of his life and watch her flush with embarrassment even as she teased him until the day he died. He wanted to take her hand in his and never let it go.
"If you're certain…" she muttered, fear coloring her voice.
"I am," he said firmly, swallowing against the knowledge of what his words meant, what they carried, and the impossible promise they made.
With hands that shook slightly, he carefully weaved the braid near the base of her neck; smaller than was traditional but it was the pattern that was important –another thing he'd practiced alone in his room for days. In utter silence, he tied it off with a simple silver wire and felt a twinge that he could not decorate it with a fine jewel like she deserved. Someday, someday, he told himself.
"There," he croaked, sudden and powerful emotion clogging his throat and he let the braid slip through his fingers to blend with the rest of the fiery mass, "It is done."
"This is madness," she whispered, turning toward him with all her fears and hopes burning through her eyes.
"Yes," he agreed as he braced his forehead to hers. He kissed her slowly, carefully, then he showed her how to braid their secret promise into his own hair, telling himself it would all work out in the end.
It had to. Because he was no longer certain he could live without her.