Fíli found that his day-to-day life had become much more difficult in the most selfish of ways. He could not be near to Sigrid as much as he craved, and when they were together, where other eyes could see them, he could not hold her as he wished to. When they were alone and he could touch her as he pleased, it was always with the knowledge that their time was finite. But the hardest part of holding her close was having to let her go each night.
When it came to their time in the stables, Fíli was always her teacher first and her lover second. And so, on the night that Sigrid was late to practice it was their time after the swordwork that was cut short and not her drills. Looking back later, Fíli would be grateful for that.
He had bid her goodnight with a lingering kiss at the door before making ready for his own departure. His effects lay in a pile in the middle of the stable and it was only a moment to return to them. Crouched as he was to collect his belongings, Fíli felt the shift in the air that signified a presence behind him. His hand reached past his cloak, where it lay, to grab hold of one of his swords. Quick as a spark, he had the blade drawn and arcing through the air as he pivoted to meet his attacker. The sound of steel meeting steel rang through the stables as Fíli looked up and into the wide eyes of Bain.
The boy had been clumsy on his draw, and his sword was still half sheathed, but that he had been quick enough to block at all spoke highly of his training at the garrison. They stayed locked as they were for a long pause before Fíli pulled back and resheathed his sword.
"You should know better than to sneak up on an armed man," Fíli could not keep the edge from his voice. In part because the boy could have been hurt, but more so because he should have heard Bain's approach to begin with. It was true that love addled the mind. He had been thinking of Sigrid just now and his thoughts had begun to drift towards her more and more during the day. He had several sore digits that could attest to that.
Bain studied him a moment more before relaxing enough to unhand his sword and nod his head in agreement. "My apologies, I didn't think."
The lad had come a long way from when Fíli had first met him in Lake-town. Where before had been a rash and impetuous youth, yearning to prove himself, now stood a young man, still learning the ways of the world; but willing to learn. That desire would make all of the difference in the years to come.
"What brings you out here in the dead of the night?" Fíli turned away to retrieve his cloak and second sword from where they still lay, and hoped beyond hope that Bain had not seen his sister's departure. Silence was his only answer and he stood to face the young man again.
"I need to know what you're intentions are towards my sister." The words were said formally, and with only a hint of a waver to his voice.
There had been a part of Fíli that had wanted to shout his feelings for Sigrid from the highest point in Esgaroth. Here was the perfect excuse to be done with all of the secrets and sneaking about, but it was the thought of telling Thorin and the inevitable fallout that would follow that had him hesitating now. By bringing their relationship into the light, he ran the risk of loosing it.
Even knowing all of that could not make Fíli speak anything less than the truth. Sigrid deserved that much, and more. "I love her. And someday, when it is possible, I would have her as my wife."
As Bain watched him and measured his words, Fíli could see Bard looking out through the boys eyes and he wondered just how far the knowledge of his and Sigrid's meetings had spread.
Finally Bain responded with a curious tilt to the head and his arms crossed over his chest. "And what's stopping you? You're a prince now, you can do whatever you please."
There was no easy way to explain the intricacies of Dwarven politics to one not born to it, especially one so inexperienced in the world. "There are expectations of me and my place in the mountain. Marriage to your sister would change everything, and there are those who would not be happy with those changes." His tone took on a forcefulness that he hoped would impress upon the youth the importance of what he said. "You must give me your word that you will not speak of this to anyone. For your sister's sake, as well as mine." He poured as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. "Your sister means more to me than life and you must trust me to handle this situation. For now, it must stay secret."
Something of the weight of his words must have been absorbed and it was relief that flowed through him when Bain nodded his assent. With the subject resolved as best as it could be, at least for the time being, the two were left in an awkward silence.
Curiosity had Fíli peering up at Bain again as he bent to collect his belongings. "Just how did you find out about us?"
The boy shrugged and his smirk was one of amusement. "Who do you think has been keeping the night guard away? I've had to take every evening shift for the past month to keep you two from being found out."
Fíli laughed out loud at that and, with swords and cloak tucked under one arm, he gave the boy a hearty slap on the back. He should have known that it was more than luck that had kept them from being discovered so far. "But why? Why would you do that?"
Bain sobered a bit before answering. "It's not common for the women here to learn how to fight, but it's not unheard of. I like the idea of my sister being safe, even when only in her own company." The teasing was back in his tone when he continued. "Da would too, but I'll not be the one that tells him."
The reminder of Bard was like stepping into a mountain stream; cold and sharp. "He- He doesn't know, does he? About Sigrid and me?" It was absurd for him to be afraid of the bowman. They were allies, and Fíli had been training with a sword for longer than the man had been alive. And yet, there was a fundamental instinct in him to be weary of the father of the woman that he loved.
Now it was Bain's turn to laugh as he turned for the door with Fíli following beside him. "Nah, not yet. Though you'd do well to be mindful of yourselves when you're both in front of him. Anyone with eyes can see the way you look at each other." Before they turned to go their separate ways Bain offered one more parting shot. "Tilda noticed it first, ya know; the change in you two. She's assured me that I make a fine brother, but is looking forward to have you in the family. Among other things, she'll no longer being the smallest."
Fíli thought it best not to reply.
The festival was only a day away and Kíli had begun to see needles and beads chasing him in his dreams. He had spent every moment that he could scrape together crafting the dress that Tauriel would wear. And when he had realized that his plans had gotten a bit too grandiose, Ori had been more than happy to help him with the detailing.
Kíli cast a look to the Elf beside him as they sat down for supper. He had been disheartened when they had not been able to find the shades of fabric that he had been hoping for; the dark blues or deep greens that would contrast best with her fair skin. By the end of their search through the old Market Hall they had only been able to scavenge an assortment of grays to work with. He had feared that the dull colors would not do her beauty justice. A smile touched his lips now at the thought. His Love could make even the most dreary of garb shine; and to help, he had stitched in as many stars as time would allow. With that thought in mind Kíli tucked into his stew with a relish. He would still have time to add more brocade if they retired early for the night.
His attention was caught again by Tauriel as she began to cough on her drink. She waved away his concern as she struggled to catch her breath. There were few others still in the Hall, but all eyes had turned to watch them. He scanned the faces with a quick glance, hoping to catch sight of a familiar gaze, but found no comfort to be had.
The sound of Tauriel clearing her throat was a reassuring one.
"I think the wine has gone off." Her voice was only the slightest bit strained when she spoke.
Kíli lifted her cup for a sniff before reeling back from the rank stench. The drink was beyond off, it was foul; and familiar. He tipped the liquid out onto the stones of the floor and stood, ushering Tauriel to do the same. "We have to go. Now, quickly."
He could already see the flush on her cheeks and, though she did rise, she began to sway where she stood.
Her eyes were drawn to the puddle on the floor before meeting his again. "Kíli?" She laid a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "What was that?"
Time was of the essence and he started them towards the Healing Hall before he answered. "Moonseed." Her steps were growing clumsy and he worried that he might have to carry her. He was strong enough, of that he had little doubt, but their differences in height would make it a challenge.
"Moonseed." She drew the word out, leaning on each syllable, before finishing with a drunken laugh. "I like the moon." They stumbled only a step further before Tauriel pushed him into an alcove out of sight. He found himself once more trapped between a cold wall and a warm body. Unlike in the market, this time there would be no teasing. Her lips pressed to his in a demanding kiss, "I like you too," before her hands began to roam across his torso; seeking out, and finding, the openings between the layers of his clothing.
He broke away long enough to try to reason with her. "Tauriel, you've been poisoned." Her hands found his flesh and he scrabbled to pull them out again as her touch trailed lower across his body. "We really don't have time for this."
"It doesn't feel like poison." She laid a kiss on his neck before nibbling at the flesh there. "It feels like heat." Her lips moved to his ear and he shivered as she took the lobe between her teeth.
On any other night Kíli would have been thrilled at the prospect of Tauriel being so forward. He still thought the idea of waiting for sex to be a silly one, but the thought of her being so far out of her mind as to forget something that had been so important to her scared him more than he could say.
He had tasted the wine on her lips when Tauriel had kissed him and could feel his head begin to reel with the effects of it. He knew little of moonseed, but what he did know was not good. The poison was fast acting, and very lethal in the right amounts. He could only hope that Tauriel's Elvish nature would help to counteract the large dose that she had ingested.
One thing was for certain; they could not stay as they were. Her hands untangled themselves from his person and he caught them in his own as she reached for the fastening of his trousers.
"We have to get the antidote." His tongue was growing sluggish in his mouth. At least if he were to die tonight, he would do so in the arms of the woman that he loved.
"I need no healer. I need you to touch me." Her overbright eyes found his and he watched as she focused on him for the first time since their escape from the Dining Hall. There was a hint of clarity to her eyes when he made no reply. "Kíli?"
"It may not be poison for you," he could feel his stomach begin to churn and pushed his way past her and back into the hallway, "but it is for me." Falling to his hands and knees, his stomach emptied itself of what little he had eaten for dinner all over the flagstones. The last glimpse he had before his eyes rolled back into his head, was Tauriel half stumbling to reach him.
From his place in the doorway Thorin looked to where his nephew lie in the Healing Hall. He had hoped to never have to see the boy in a sick bed again; but it had been a foolish wish at best. He watched as Kíli tried to rise, only to be forced back down by the She-Elf. From the way the two were gesturing it was not difficult to figure out what was being said, despite their attempts at hushed voices. She had positioned herself as guardian, in such a way so as to keep one eye on her ailing Dwarf and one on the only entrance to the Hall. Thorin doubted his nephew would be leaving that bed as swiftly as the young man may have been wanting.
He could no longer deny the Elf's feelings for his nephew. Though his options may have greatly improved if she had been proved false, he had seen the truth of her heart during her time among them. Despite the trouble he knew that their union would bring, it did warm his heart to see Kíli so happy and well loved. It was not every Dwarf who found his One, and even rarer so to have that affection returned.
With that in mind he focused again on the voice of the healer beside him.
"'Tis a lucky thing that Tauriel was the target and not the lad. I've never seen the like. She's not had any ill effects that I can tell. He would not have been so fortunate." Óin gave a great harrumph. "As is, he'll have a sour stomach for most of the morn, but should be right as rain by nightfall."
Thorin dipped his head in acknowledgement but made no reply. Luck indeed. He was not unaware that luck had a way of running out at the most inopportune of times. His gaze slipped past the elder Dwarf to where Balin and Dwalin stood waiting, keeping a respectful distance at the end of the hall.
Perhaps he should have let his nephew and the Elf leave the mountain when Kíli had first asked it. Whatever dangers would have been upon them in the wild would, at the very least, not hold the stench of deception. He wondered if they might not have been safer chasing Orc packs in the mountains than taking supper in his kingdom.
Without a word, Thorin left the healer to his work and made his way to where the brothers awaited him.
His voice was low and harsh when he spoke. "Find me the one that would dare to make a strike against me and mine." This had been no accident and he could no longer afford to tun a blind eye.
Both gave a nod, though only Balin answered. "It will be done."
With his temper still peaked, Thorin did not trust himself to speak more and he left for the confines of his office. The tainted gold, his overbearing cousin, and now these attempts upon his kin; too many troubles were piling upon the King Under the Mountain and he was beginning to worry that he would not survive the burdens. He felt as if he had been caught in a mine collapse. Too much shifting could cause the walls to cave in around him and all that was left was to wait for a rescue to dig him out.
By the time that Thorin had reached the sanctuary of his office his temper had cooled immensely. That was, of course, until he saw who had been waiting there for his return.
Dáin rose from his seat by the fire and crossed the room to lay a hand upon Thorin's shoulder. "I heard wha' happened to the lad. How does he fare?"
Thorin considered his answer for a moment. There had been a time when Dáin would have been among those that he counted as his most trusted circle. Now though, there were too many unknown factors, too many questions left unanswered. He stepped out from under his cousin's hand to cross the room. "He will live."
It was a relief when Dáin chose to keep his distance. Thorin's ire at his nephews condition had not abated completely, nor did it look as if it would anytime soon. Not until the one at fault had been found.
"Tha's good to hear." Dain lowered himself back into the chair that he had been resting in. "If there's anything tha' I can do ta help." He let the offer speak for itself and Thorin nodded his understanding.
"Someone has made a grave mistake." He turned to watch his cousin. "Rest assured, when I find the one responsible, there will be a reckoning."
"Aye, as there should be." The ginger Dwarf had the audacity to take on a smug air. "Didn' I warn you no' to bring outsiders here?"
Thorin raised a brow at the suggestion. "Are you implying it was not a Dwarf who has made these attempts."
Dáin rose once more, and for the first time that evening, took on an contentious tone. "Are you implying tha' it was?"
Though uncommon, Dwarves had been known to find work in the shadows. Assassins, thieves, those that made their living on deceit. Most would consider it not honorable, yet even he had one among his Company. "And what would a Man care if an Elf were to reside in this mountain?"
The look he earned was hard and unyielding. "You've no' been yourself since the battle ended and I think it might be wise for you to think on tha'." Dáin paused a moment before his demeanor shifted and his words turned placating, and the slightest bit taunting. "Perhaps the mantel of a kingdom is too much for you to bear so soon. Perhaps you need more time to rest."
"I see." The settling embers of Thorin's anger were stoked high once more. "And of course you would be more than willing to take that burden from me."
The great Dwarf seemed to puff up with indignation. "I dinna like your tone there, cousin. Or what you might be suggesting."
Thorin's voice had cooled to an icy frost. "And I don't like harboring those that would harm my kin. But it would seem that we are both to be dissatisfied."
Dáin crossed to the door, shaking his head all the way. "You'd do well to cure yourself of what ails you, sooner rather than later." At the exit he turned. "King or no', if you continue the way you are it'll be more than a nephew you'll lose."
The threat hung in the air long after the other Dwarf had left the room.
Thorin sat, head in his hands, and the walls closing in around him.
A/N: I'm still terrified of writing this story, but I'm getting back into the swing of it. IT WILL NOT BE ABANDONED! I promise, and hopefully there will be no more missed updates.
A/N: Moonseed is real and lethal. I've read that Elves can be poisoned, but I like the idea of showing the differences between Elvish and Dwarvish biology. Moonseed, while lethal to humans, is harmless to birds. So why I took it a step farther, and while it's poisonous to Dwarves it's a serious aphrodisiac for Elves. I couldn't think of a way to put that into conversation without it being forced but now I have a whole headcannon surrounding
the stuff.
Maelpuig, as the Elves call it, is used by couples during the Spring Festival and is basically like taking Ecstasy. It makes them very horny and want to be touched. So when Tauriel says it feels like heat it's more appropriate to say that she's feeling 'in heat'. But, as she's never heard the Westron name for it or had an occasion to taste it, she wouldn't be able to make that connection and no one in the mountain would know enough about Elvish customs/biology to know either.
I thought about going for a direct translation into Sindarin, but followed the Kingsfoil to Athelas example so the Sindarin name translates into what it does/is. Maelpuig means 'lust berries'. Yes I pulled the "I came into contact with a sex plant" cliché, so sue me.