"True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy..."
xxx
Kíli's sense of lust deflated, replaced by a noxious mix of frustration tinged with fear. His hands trembled from the shock of the situation, having gone from pleasure to anxiety in seconds.
Tauriel's face seemed like a mask of cold stone. "The letter delivery. Nothing more." Her warrior nature had taken over, protecting the tender heart hidden beneath her Elvish indifference. "All is well."
He nodded and slipped through the door before his brother could peek around the doorframe. Kíli calmed himself and plastered a fake smile on his face, though he knew his older brother would sense his flustered state instantly. Fili knew him well.
Fili regarded him with a curious expression, his sandy blond hair thick on his head, the same fair color on his jaw and braided beside the corners of his mouth. Kili and Fili resembled each other in face, but Fili's light features contrasted with Kíli's dark brunette attributes, two opposites like comedy and tragedy masks.
Fili crossed his arms across his chest in a gesture that reminded Kíli of Thorin. A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of his uncle, and it only soured his mood further.
The forgotten Maegolwin darted into the room and slammed the door.
Fili scowled, though Kíli recognized the hint of amusement in his eyes. "What in Mahal's name are you doing in Tauriel's room?"
Fili had been one of the few who called Tauriel by name, instead of 'she-elf', or 'outsider', or worse curses like 'shirumund'. The phrase 'Nî ikrit fund' followed her in whispers whenever she passed older dwarves in the dark Erebor hallways. His kin tolerated her presence at best. Kíli could only stand by and let his anger simmer in silence.
Kíli shrugged his shoulders in what he hoped to be a casual manner. "I brought the Captain her letter from the Elven king. The elf who delivered it this morning declared it very important."
A deep crease formed between Fili's shaggy brows. "There are plenty of others who could have done that, you know."
For a rare moment in his life, Kíli felt a surge of annoyance at his older brother. He knew Fili did not deserve his irritation, but he tired of the constant questions and the occasional dirty looks from his companions. He grew tired of lineages and battle and gold. Surely love reigned above material conquest, even his unusual fondness for an elf.
These thoughts dashed through his mind. "I only wanted proof that she received it," he grumbled. "I put it in her hands myself."
Fili frowned, aware of his younger brother's ill demeanor. "Well the less confusion the better I suppose," he sighed. "I don't want to upset the fragile peace with our dear neighbors. Thranduil is one touchy bastard."
Kíli nodded, a laugh escaping his lips. At the mention of the Mirkwood kingdom, his thoughts drifted back into Tauriel's embrace, her hungry mouth on his neck and the thick herbal aroma of incense embedded in her hair. His flesh tingled from the memory of her kisses.
Fili glanced down each end of the murky hallway, the beams of ancient dwarf architecture silent and immense, like stone giants holding the weight of the mountain at bay. "Brother..." Fili's tone softened, "I know Tauriel is good-hearted and fair, and your companion, but you can't linger in her chambers."
Kíli avoided his brother's gaze. He studied the rigid patterns of carved stone ingrained in the walls. "I won't make a habit of it," he mumbled. A sense of guilt seeped into his head, down his shoulders. He never lied to his brother. He hated it.
Fili stared at him, his gray eyes scanning Kíli's face. Kíli sweated under his scrutiny. Fili cleared his throat. "I know you don't want to hear this," he said. "But some of our kin dislike your friendship. They find it odd. Honestly, I care not. With all this loss, if she eases the sadness in you than so be it. But there is talk of other things, and too much talk poisons a kingdom."
Again, Kíli shrugged. "I understand," he said. "But Tauriel and I are companions in battle, a bond formed through bloodshed, nothing more."
Fili held the bridge of his nose between his fingers and let out a long sigh. Always the cautious one, their mother had said of Fili. "You fancy her though," he whispered. "I can see it in your eyes. You can't deny me that fact."
Kíli stared into Fili's face, his features mirrored in the others sculpted cheekbones and square jawline, but Fili resembled his uncle more in looks and countenance. Kíli resembled no one. No beard adorned his face, only dark stubble around his mouth and chin. "As you said, she is fair," he murmured. "That is all. You have my word."
The lies scorched his tongue. Before all else, he had loved his brother, and his own treachery felt as black as sin.
The tension drained from Fili's shoulders. "Alright. Forgive me, but I've been concerned about you, you grow more distant every day." He laid a hand on Kíli's shoulder. "But such wounds take time to heal. Come, I need your opinion on some of our kin's recent squabbles. I know nothing of trade routes. Balin has pestered me about it for days."
Kíli's mouth turned upwards into lackluster smile as he followed his brother down the dust packed hallway, guilt snapping at his heals and Tauriel's radiant skin on his mind.
xxx
"Where do Elves go when they die?"
Tauriel stared at him with raised eyebrows, and Kíli regretted the impulsiveness of his words once again.
Far from prying eyes, they sat huddled together amongst gray boulders on a forgotten ledge of the Stone Mountain, the shrill music of wild thrush and sparrow rebounding off crevices in the rock, the rustling of trees a backdrop of rhythm far below. Fili had indulged in too much ale and after supper Kíli led Tauriel out of the dwarf kingdom and onto the crest of Erebor itself. He knew his elf love deflated under the constant shadow and stone. If his body rose from the deep earth, than hers had formed from the limber shapes of trees, her spirit created from clusters of red poppy in the Mirkwood thickets.
The sun descended behind the hazy blue outline of the Gray mountains in the far distance. Streaks of orange and yellow dominated the sky, morphing the air into the god's own vision of fire. She had called the sun Arien, a name Kíli's accent had butchered, but the strange Elvish legends fascinated him. He would teach her his own Dwarven myths too, in time.
They sat side by side, their backs to the stone wall with her hand rested on his thigh. He clutched her hand in his own, her long fingers deceptively fragile beneath his calloused palms; he had witnessed her slice an orc's jugular with those same hands.
She smiled down at him, his head only inches higher than her shoulders from a sitting position. "Well," she mused, "we all go to Valinor across the sea. The Undying lands."
Kíli scowled in confusion. "But Elves can be killed, can't they?"
Her laughter danced around his skin. "Of course. But we still go to Valinor, to the Halls of Mandos. Or our restless spirits may wander across Middle Earth as ghosts, as the spirits of men often do. I have never witnessed any of these things myself, though."
Kíli paused in thought, grazing his thumb in tiny circles across the back of her hand. "How does anyone get to...Valinor?"
"The path is only open to Elves who wish to make the journey home," she said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. Kili's heart ached for her, a shared sensation of bitterness. "Both my parents are there."
Kíli peered off into the distance, her words ringing in his ears. His life had changed since the last time he had trekked across the Misty mountains with the rest of his kin. He had never been one to reflect on anything other than the adrenaline of the hunt or the dry taste of ale in the evening, but the terrible inconsistency of life suddenly shocked him. Himself and Fili had once been careless vagabonds lost in the the savage corners of the world.
As he gazed at the tiny specks of the mountain range on the horizon, the throes and joys of the past haunted him and in his anguish he wondered where Thorin's spirit wandered, if his uncle existed in the mysterious hills of Tauriel's Valinor, or in the wild plains where the memory of their adventure still lingered, where they all had once been happy.
Kíli gripped Tauriel's hand. "Will you go there too someday?"
She let out a shaky sigh. Her hair blazed crimson in the harsh light of the dying sun. "I suppose so. But hopefully not for a very long time."
Kíli experienced a throb of pain in his chest. He peered down at their entwined hands, the invisible weight of time crushing his shoulders. He raised their locked fingers and kissed the ridges of her knuckles one by one.
Tauriel watched him with a blend of affection and melancholy behind her eyes. "What about Dwarves? Where do Dwarves go in death? I know nothing of such tales."
He closed his eyes and leaned against her shoulder, flyaway locks of her hair tickling the side of his face, the rise and fall of her chest softening the pain in his heavy heart. Her presence healed him time and time again. "Fili would remember the legends more than me," he said. "I never payed much attention."
Tauriel grinned. "Imagine that."
"I prefer adventure over old myth." He cracked a small smile."Some say we return to stone. Others tell of our own Halls of Mandos where we sleep until the end of the world." He laughed under his breath.
His words cleared the smile from her face. He had not meant to trouble her with his dismal fairytales. "Forgive me," he said. She regarded him with a serious expression, head titled to the side and her hands clenched in his grip. She urged him to continue wordlessly with her eyes.
Kíli watched as a raven landed on a rock face above their heads. "Those are merely the legends," he smoothed his fingers across her palm, comforting himself more than her this time. "No one really knows. Our fallen kin have never returned to enlighten us one way or the other."
The fresh wounds of grief struck him silent. How he wished for the sound of his uncle's voice, for his wise counsel in this dark age. If only he could speak with Thorin one more time.
The lone raven squawked and flew off towards the hazy ruins of Dale, nestled near the ghostly shimmer of the lake.
He hoped Tauriel disregarded the glaze of tears in his eyes as she peered at him beneath the hot glow of the setting sun. Tenderness softened her features. A snow scented wind from the high peaks fluttered her hair around her face, her fair skin framed by red waves. He hoped her beauty would endure throughout the ages, long after his bones had crumbled to dust.
She withdrew her hand from his grip. "I am no good with words," she whispered, her green eyes deep with sorrow and kindness. "Come closer, my friend."
He stiffened, unsure of her intentions and fearing a misstep on his part. He had embarrassed himself enough in her presence already. He leaned into her touch as she grasped his shoulders and moved him to a lower position, pulling his torso to the ground, his head cushioned in her lap by the softness of her dress. He loved the color of this particular garment, pale green like wild ginger leaves.
She shivered when he brushed his fingers across the skin of her leg. He never understood why a creature of such elegance expressed any interest in him, a dwarf whose entire existence was but a drop in the ocean of her lifetime; but he thirsted for her affection all the same.
Kíli delighted in the sight of her face above him, this fierce warrior with a secret tenderness. She smiled as she trailed her hands through his dark hair. "A'maelamin," she whispered.
Their eyes locked for a moment and time slowed down. "Thatr-azbad, I would follow you across the sea."
A sad smile eased across her face. She smoothed her fingers across his cheeks, the other hand tangled in his thick hair, her delicate touch on his scalp. "If your words are true, then we have been dealt a harsh destiny, my Naugrim prince," she whispered, her voice intermingled with the mountain wind.
A tinge of pain squeezed his heart. "So be it then," he smiled. "The line of Durin is no stranger to ill fate."
Tauriel leaned down and pressed her lips against his, a softer kiss than the burst of passion they had shared in her chamber nights ago. Her hair enveloped him like a waterfall of blood. They moved their lips together in a slow cadence that stirred Kíli's fervor despite their tales of sorrow. Perched high atop Erebor, he cared nothing of fate, his mortality making the taste of her lips all the sweeter, the cool mountain air more potent as it chilled his skin. No more despair. He treasured the sound of her voice every moment, and would continue to do so every season until his youth drained away and he returned to stone.
Notes: I hope this chapter wasn't too depressing for anybody eheh. I also really like the forbidden love affair idea for some reason. lol. I appreciate every single one of you readers, and also anyone who leaves kudos! Before I made an account on here I lurked & read tons of Kiliel stuff myself and left kudos everywhere as a guest lol.
Hopefully locations and everything are accurate. Also, I don't know if Tauriel, as a Silvan elf, would know of the Maiar in charge of the sun and moon. That sounds more like Vanyar or Noldor knowledge, but I'm not sure if the stories were passed down to other elves in Middle Earth or not. Sorry about the heavy language usage too, but I personally enjoy reading phrases in fics and reading the translation in the notes. That's just me though. But I am definitely no Tolkien language scholar(one day maybeee.)
Thanks for reading !
xoxo,
DarkMignonette )o(
Translations
(Khuzdul)
'Nî ikrit fund: Never trust an elf.'
'Shirumund: (Derogatory) Bald-face.'
'Thatr-azbad: Star-lady.' (hopefully lol.)
(Sindarin)
'A'maelamin: Beloved.'
'Naugrim: Dwarf.'
