The caravan from Edoras arrived just as the sun was cresting the horizon and the makeshift banners were being hung from the city gates. The wagons had been weighed down with a variety of goods, all of which would be sorely needed to see the reestablished city of Dale through the winter. Tables and stalls had been set up along the edge of the town square and the area had been dotted with fire pits to drive away the worst of the air's frost.
Fíli had no worry about the chill. When the celebration started and the drink began to flow, there would be warm bodies enough to heat the square to a springtime temperature. His eyes traveled over the goods being set out, the bolts of clothe and tools for trade work. He watched as dried meats were laid out and caught the scent of spices riding the wind, already dulling the knife's edge of the cold.
The citizens of Dale had done their best to prepare for a gathering. The open area in the heart of the city had been cleared as best as it could be and a portion had been made ready for dancing and music. Empty tables sat waiting for the feast that evening and there was a silence that teetered on the edge of excitement.
Men were not the only ones who were in great need of a celebration and Fíli hoped that a good many of his kind would make their way from the mountain. Even those of the Iron Hills could not hide their enthusiasm; or least, those of them that had been sent with him to repair the old city. There had been a distance at first, between himself and the unfamiliar Dwarves, but over their time together, and through the bond that comes from hard work and shared blood and sweat, there had grown a respect between Fíli and the other Dwarves. He would not call them friends, not yet, but there was no longer a hovering animosity between them, and that was something to be grateful for.
He was broken from his reverie by the gruff voice of one such Dwarf. "Shall we call it a day, then, Boss?"
Fíli looked to where the other man approached and then cast his eyes to the noon day sun. He and his crew had finished the worst of the structural repairs weeks ago and had been working on the more finite task of repairing or replacing broken facades or intricate architecture since then. But there would be none of that for as long as the festival was on going.
"Tell the men to pack up," Fíli turned to face the Dwarf as he addressed him. "We can do no more until the square is cleared out," he gave a friendly knock to the other man's back with a chuckle, "and our crew sobers up enough to do more good than harm."
Of all of the Dwarves from the Iron Hills, Grunîm, his foreman, was the one that he had grown the closest to.
"Tell me," Fíli's tone was just the slightest bit hesitant, "do you think that many of your kin will come tonight?"
"I honestly don' know." Grunîm turned his gaze to the bustle around them. "Bu' it would do a world of good if they did." He started back the way that he had come and Fíli fell into step beside him. "We've had trade with Men before, but this is something new; wha's beginning here."
Fíli cast a look over his shoulder at the square. He could feel it as well, the start of something grand. And with it came a feeling that was sorely needed in this corner of the world: hope.
As a child, Tauriel's tutors had tried everything in their power to break her of her habit of pacing. It was at best unladylike, and at worst a too obvious sign of her distress. She spared half a moment to lament at their failure and the insufficient space of her quarters. The room, which had seemed quite cozy at first appearance, now lacked the length required. She shook her hands at her sides, in part to use what little energy the motion would burn, but also to try to dispel the missing feeling of her daggers. They had been a part of her for so long, and she ached to have the comfort of them in hand again.
Kíli sat watching her from the bed; leaned back on his hands and far too relaxed. "You're making something out of nothing, I promise you."
She paused in her steps to shoot him an incredulous stare and the Dwarf had the audacity to chuckle.
"You think this is funny?" Her voice was soft, but carried with it an edge. "You should still be in the Healing Hall. Though for all of my trying you're thick skull is apparently impenetrable to reason. There is an assassin living amongst us, allies are few and far between, and you want to go to a party."
Sitting up from his reclined position, Kíli gave her a nod. "To put it simply; yes."
With a noise of disgust Tauriel threw her hands into the air and began her pacing once more. "If I had more time, if anyone in this blasted kingdom would talk to me, I might be able to find the culprit."
Kíli grabbed for her hand as she passed him, and with a strength that she should no longer find surprising, pulled her down to sit beside him. "And you would succeed, my love, I know it." She turned to look at him and he ran his free hand along one of her betrothal braids. "But there is no Guard for you to captain here. Finding the miscreant is not your responsibility."
There was a fear in Tauriel that she had been fighting since that awful day on Ravenhill, that her actions would lead to Kíli's suffering; or worse, his death. She had done her best to ignore the feeling but it fed from her guilt now. Fear was a weakness, an infirmity that could be twisted against the bearer, and she had been raised better than to give into it.
And yet, she was no longer an Elf of the Wood, and the strict rules to which she had been raised to believe in no longer applied.
"You were hurt; because of me." There was no sharpness to her voice this time and she rested her forehead on Kíli's shoulder to avoid catching his eye. This openness that existed between them was still so new to her. And though she adored the intimacy that came with such closeness, there remained centuries of self-restraint for her to overcome.
He spoke to her in Khuzdul while his fingers combed through her hair. Words that she had no hope of understanding, but the soothing tone with which he delivered them brought peace to Tauriel. The sounds were not flowing and melodic like the language of her birth, but they had taken on a singular meaning for her; one of safety. He did not often speak to her in the Dwarven language when others were nearby, and she had come to associate the words with their time alone.
Kíli shifted her away from him and she met his eyes without prompting. "You know that what happened was not your fault. Why do you still try to take the blame?"
She ran the fingers of one hand through his ever-disheveled locks. He had become so dear to her in so short a period of time. "I should have protected you."
His protest, when it came, had been expected. The intensity with which he delivered it, though, was a surprise.
"It is not your responsibility to protect me." He caught her hand from where rested in his hair and brought their joined hands to his lap. "If anything, I should be the one protecting you."
The petulant look on his face combined with his complaint raised a bubble of laughter from Tauriel. "Well that's just silly."
She could see her mistake almost at once. Kíli stood from the bed and turned to face her, his shoulders drawn back in wounded pride. "Why? Am I too weak? Too young? Too short of beard?" He threw his arms out to indicate all of himself. "Do you think I'm unable to keep you safe?" She could see the moment that the previous night came to his mind as he deflated into himself. "Maybe you're right."
It wounded her to see him so despaired.
Taking his hands into her own, it was Tauriel's turn to pull him to sit beside her. "Unless you had planned to taste everything I ate or drank, then there was nothing you could have done last night. And besides, I would never have allowed such a thing." He made as if to argue and she spoke over his words, leaving no room for debate. "I have been a warrior for centuries, Meleth Nín, you cannot expect me to play damsel in the mountain simply because you wish to prove yourself." She tried a teasing note, hoping to lighten the mood. "Besides, of the two of us, who has been the one to need rescuing?"
Tauriel watched as Kíli's face flushed red and she could not be certain if it was from embarrassment, shame, or anger.
She rushed her next words to try to fix whatever damage may have been done by her carelessness. "Please, I spoke only in jest." She thought to take his hand again, but instead offered her own in a truce. "Can we agree to protect each other and leave it at that?"
The silence stretched out between them and Tauriel knew that, regardless of his answer, the matter would be far from settled. Finally, Kíli nodded his consent and laid his hand in hers.
She had a moment to wonder at the nature of Dwarven women. Were they such delicate creatures that they must be shielded from the world? And if so, then what about her had first caught his eye, as she was nothing like a Dwarf in looks. For the first time since their meeting Tauriel thought on how she must appear to his people; overly tall and too thin. Her face was as bare any Elf's and she lacked even the peach-fuzz all Dwarves were born with.
His words from earlier came back to her and her eyes were drawn to the scruff on his face. "Why do you keep your beard shorn as you do?"
Kíli ran the fingers of his free hand over the stubble on his cheeks and she was glad to have put the other topic behind them. "It's generally considered a sign of mourning. Thorin started keeping his short after they were forced to leave Erebor all those years ago." His shoulders raised and fell in a lazy shrug. "Fíli and I have always kept ours trimmed as well. Though, not usually this short." At this he chuckled and she could see a memory flitting across his mind. "I lost a bet before we set out on our quest," his hand once again rubbed at his almost-beard, "I had to shave my face for the duration of our journey. Lucky for me most of the spring chill had been gone from the air by then." He let out a heartfelt laugh and Tauriel was glad to see his mood so recovered. "You should have seen the fit my mother threw when she'd seen what I had done."
Tauriel pulled her hand from his to lay both along his checks, letting the tiny hairs tickle her skin. "Will you let it grow now?" She could not imagine Kíli with a full beard, the image was simply too foreign to her. She let her hands slide back to cup his jaw and drew him to her for a kiss. "I will miss being able to see all of your face. A beard would hide you from me."
He was grinning when they parted and the sight brought a smile to her own face.
"I hadn't really thought much on it with everything that's been going on." He turned his face to nuzzle one of her palms before laying a kiss there. "I've been shaving nearly everyday for months now. I guess it's became a bit of a habit."
Tauriel drew back and closed one eye, raising her hand to block the view of the lower half of his face. "I imagine you'll look much older with a full beard." Lowering her hand again, she met his gaze with a smile. "Will you twist and braid it as the others do?" The image of Kíli wearing one of the outrageous styles of his companions brought a soft laugh from the Elf; long looping braids or peaks rising from his head.
The look he gave her had Tauriel wondering if she had once again said the wrong thing. But his words, when he spoke, were not angry. His voice was one of deep thought. "I don't know." She was grateful when his eyes cleared and he seemed to come back to the moment. "I guess I'll have to decide soon, though."
She made a noise of assent, though in truth she was not certain what he had been thinking.
He turned the conversation back to thoughts of the upcoming festival and she agreed without complaint. As much as it would soothe her nerves to see him resting for a bit longer, Tauriel had already accepted that defeat.
She had never been to a celebration outside of the Greenwood and had little idea of what to expect. King Thranduil would be in attendance, that much she knew, and there was a dread inside of her at the thought of seeing him again. The last words that he had spoken to her had been with his sword held to her neck.
Her one source of comfort for that upcoming meeting was the chance for her to see Legolas again. He was her dearest friend and there was an ache within her at the thought of having abandoned him.
"Are you ready?"
Kíli's question cut off her melancholy thoughts and she nodded with a smile that was only partially forced. When he retrieved the dress that she was to wear and held it out for her to see, her smile shifted to a soft but sincere twist of the lips.
"It is beautiful."
Tauriel ran her hand along the length of the skirt where it flowed over his arm. The lace pattern looked to her eye as if the material would be rough, but it passed through her fingers like water. She had never imagined that such a creation would be possible from the mis-mashed scraps that they had retrieved from the old market.
The smile on Kíli's face was wide and unrestrained. He lifted the garment, settling the fabric into her arms. "Try it on."
There was no changing screen in the room, but with a promise not to peak and his back to turned to her, Tauriel was quick to change from one dress to the other. Kíli was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet before she had finished and there was no hope of her lacing up the back without his help.
"You can turn around now." She fought a blush at the timidness in her voice. Few had been the occasions that she had needed to wear a gown that had required help to dress. Her armor had been made with speed and efficiency in mind and she had always favored the ease of trousers to the flare of a skirt.
She made the mistake of catching Kíli's eye as he turned back around and the hunger in his stare pulled low in her belly. He gave no answer when she asked for his help with the ties, but moved towards her with slow and measured steps. His hand skimmed the flesh of her back as he moved her hair out of the way and Tauriel was grateful that he could not see her face.
She did not regret what sacrifices had been made to save Kíli's life, but after having lost the only home that she had ever known, she was desperate now to hold onto what parts of her past that she could. A twelve month courtship was not so long for an Elf, but she had never felt time move so slowly before. In part it was a blessing as each moment with her love was it's own and to be cherished, but there was also a curse in the waiting. It was in moments like these, when she could feel the pull of their bond, that she began to doubt the strength of her own resolve.
By the time that Kíli had finished lacing her into the dress and come back around to face her, Tauriel had managed to regain her composure. She could still feel a slight heat in her cheeks, but she did her best to ignore the feeling and instead focused on the gown that hung from her shoulders. The over skirt split in the front, just under the bust, and the lace parted to show smooth silk beneath it. She swayed from side to side, letting the fabric float around her. The hem hovered just above the floor and would hide her lack of appropriate footwear from view. She had not given a second thought to wearing her boots with the everyday dresses that she wore, but she hesitated at the thought of doing disservice to the dress that Kíli had made.
He followed her gaze were it lingered on her toes before lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "Trust me, nobody will be looking at your feet."
She smiled and nodded. Whatever lay in store for them that evening, Tauriel was determined to face it head on. And with Kíli by her side, she was certain that they could face anything that would come, so long as they were together.
They would go to the festival, and they would dance and laugh and continue the life that they had started together and nothing could possibly go wrong.
As the dress is based on the Breathe gown from Ever After, I felt the need to throw in a quote from the movie. Since FF.N doesn't allow links, you can find it on my LJ under the post 'A Sneak Preview,' though the size is better on my Tubmlr and easier to find from the link in the AO3 posting. *mutters* stupid FF.N