Y'all, I gotta tell you... Last week was amazing for ACoF! I read through the story hoping to get some motivation to work on it going, which definitely worked, because after I posted the last chapter (86 had been complete for a while, but I was waiting to have more written before posting it), I have since written a further FOUR chapters and am working on a fifth. I am still feeling pretty in the zone as far as motivation goes (love when upswings in my mood help me get writing done!), so I'm gonna ride the wave as long as my Muse stays on the board, you can be sure of that!

Many thanks, as always, to the rockstars who take the time to leave me a few words: MissCallaLilly, Sparky She-Demon, Robinbird79, djhay4, Celebrisilweth, jubes-zcg, Aashi, Morning Sun, Ever Play, SpringViolets, and Western Witch. You all are freaking awesome!

Aashi - I'm glad you're eager to see Kíli get his reward at last, and I am absolutely chuffed you consider this your favorite story.

Morning Sun - Thank you ever so much for all the kind words. I'm thrilled you are looking forward to Kíli and Tilda!

Ever Play - Thanks so much for the compliments! To answer your question, I have considered sharing my stories over at AO3, I've just never gotten around to actually doing it. I'm glad you're going to keep coming back here to read mine, though!

SpringViolets - Thank you so much for the kind words! If you haven't read my first story, when I started that one I initially had no intention of bringing Thorin and his nephews back. They died in the book as well as the movies, and in the very first chapter of The Journey of Hearts, I'd already established they were dead. But the more stories of their survival I read, the more I felt the desire to do something with them; I just didn't know how I could pull it off if I'd already made it clear they were gone. After a while I came up with the "wasn't supposed to die/reborn" idea, and things have taken off from there. Of course, this story has taken A LOT longer to write than I ever thought it would, but that's because my brain doesn't always let me work on it.

87. Meetings

"Kíli?" Balin's voice was now tinged with concern.

"It can't be," he breathed. "It can't. Mahal's hammer, Bal, she's not even grown!"

Balin's eyebrows winged up again. "Well, if you refer to whom I think you do, by age she may yet be young, but physically she has grown as much as ever she will."

Setting his mug of ale back on the table, Kíli braced his elbows on the edge and dropped his head into his hands. "She can't be. She was just a child when we met."

"In your old life, yes. In this one, she was near grown when you met again."

He sat up again. "Okay, maybe. But I spent three days alone in my room at Bard's manor after Mother's supposed death. When would I have bonded with her?"

Tilda's face leaned over him, concerned as she tried to calm him after he'd woken.

Balin shrugged. "It could have been any moment where you were in her presence," said he. Then, after setting his own mug back on the table, he leaned forward and added, "Laddie, I will admit that there is some chance we are wrong. It could be someone else, or maybe it is someone you haven't met yet. But based on your behavior observed by those who have been with you since your rebirth… I have my doubts we are."

Kíli groaned. "Mahal's balls, Bal—what am I supposed to do now? How can I possibly meet with Tilda if this is true?"

Balin frowned. "Why would you not want to find out if it's true? She could be your One, Kíli! The end to all your misery over the last year and a half could be nigh!"

"Princess Tilda is, at most, seventeen years of age—and barely at that," Kíli said then. "Say I shake her hand or something and feel the burn? How the bloody hell am I supposed to stop myself sating the firestorm when she's not grown, by her people's standards or ours, for a whole year?"

Balin offered what was surely meant to be a reassuring smile, but all Kíli could feel was the misery of the mere possibility that his One was a girl he couldn't even be with.

"I am sure you will find a way, Kíli. Mahal has asked a lot of you, I know, but surely one more year will not be too great a sacrifice?" the elder dwarf said.

Kíli snorted. "It's a good thing she lives so far away, then," he muttered. "That'll certainly make it easier to keep my hands off of her."

"And do you really believe you'll be able to stay in Dwarrowvale if the family's suspicion proves true?" Balin challenged. "No, laddie, you'll be riding north with the rest of us and living in Erebor with me just to be near her."

"Look, can we talk about something else now?" Kíli grumbled. "I refuse to consider the possibility that Tilda, of all the females I know, is my One. I'm old enough to be her grandfather."

Balin sighed and shook his head, though he let the matter lie. For the rest of the evening they went over the trade contracts, which Kíli was relieved to find as straightforward as King Ragin had claimed. He and his cousin went back and forth over the language until he was sure he knew it by heart, leaving the whole of the night for his mind to wonder…

…what if Tilda was his One? What on Arda was he going to do about it?

-…-

Because they had started their journey rather late in the afternoon, Kíli and Balin didn't arrive in Minas Tirith until morning of the third day. Already the market on the ground level was in full swing, with men and women moving about to and fro doing their shopping, the owners of shops or open-air stalls shouting about their wares or stopping passers-by to promote their business. He and Balin trod along at a slow but steady pace until suddenly his elder cousin stopped.

"It's still here!" Balin cried as he slipped from his pony's back.

"What is?" Kíli asked as he climbed down from Narag's saddle and moved to the pony's head to see what his cousin was doing.

Balin had approached a stall behind which sat a stocky dwarf selling small wares of clearly dwarvish design. Belt buckles, cloak clasps, broaches and other such trinkets made of gold, silver, brass, and steel—some of them inlaid with gemstones—adorned the table or hung from the awning.

"Shamâkh, bahûnê," said the proprietor to Balin. "See something ye like?"

"Indeed I do—you, sir," Balin replied. "Or at least, this booth. I was here in Minas Tirith at this very place four years ago with some friends of mine."

The dwarf behind the table pulled his pipe from between his teeth and leaned forward. "Aye, I thought ye looked familiar! You and two other dwarrow, and three children of Men, was it not? The youngest girl bought a belt buckle for the dwarrow in the hat, right after ye met Princess Rejna when she come out of this shop here," said he with a jerk of his thumb at the shop door next to his stall.

"Indeed, bahûnê!" said Balin with a laugh. "And now the princess is wed to my kinsman, and will soon bear him a child."

The dwarf then came around the end of his table of wares. "Is it true, lad? Is it true what they say—that he's Thorin Oakenshield reborn?"

Balin glanced over his shoulder to Kíli—the news had already begun to spread.

"Aye, 'tis true."

The dwarf's eyes widened. "Well, bless my beard and Mahal be praised. About time Dwarrowvale got a reward for bein' forced to hide all these years. Ha! The Heir of Durin to be our king one day… Who'd have thunk it?"

Kíli cleared his throat. "Balin, should we not be going?"

"Indeed, laddie," Balin replied. "We'd best get to the seventh level and pay our respects to the steward and his guests."

Saying again how pleased he was to see the booth still operating, Balin bid the other dwarf farewell and he and Kíli returned to their saddles. After a long, winding journey up the main road, they at last approached the sixth level, where Balin said they would have to stable the ponies. Finding an inn, they paid for their mounts' care and secured rooms for themselves, then began the trek up to the Citadel.

Kíli felt a nervousness he wanted to attribute to his meeting with the steward, but which he could not. Oh, he was certainly a tad anxious to serve as Dwarrowvale's emissary, to prove that the faith placed in him was justified, but it was more than that. Much more, and he didn't want to admit it to himself, let alone Balin.

He was anxious to see her again. He wondered if Tilda was still upset with him for comparing her to his mother. He wondered how much she had grown since last he'd seen her. He wondered if the suspicions of his family were true, and that all the misery and pain and despair he had felt since leaving Dale some eighteen or nineteen months ago was because she was his One and he'd left her behind.

What if it was true? How was he supposed to act around her? And how would she react were he to tell her that Mahal believed they should be together? Would she believe him, or call it utter nonsense?

For that matter, what if Dwalin's jest was prophetic, and Bard had brought her here for the purpose of negotiating a marriage contract with the steward's grandson? No, he growled silently as he walked stiffly up the steps of the Citadel, paying little attention to the tree in the midst of the courtyard. Just the thought of Tilda being married off to some young punk Gondorian lord burned a hole in his gut—and he found himself praying as he and his cousin approached the doors of the Citadel that her father wouldn't dare do such a thing.

The guards at the door asked them to state their business, drawing Kíli from his moody reverie. He gave their names and declared they were come as representatives of King Ragin of Dwarrowvale. Kíli and Balin were then shown inside, into a wide white room with statues and columns on either side, where they saw a black chair sitting next to a set of white marble steps, leading up to what he assumed was the throne of Gondor. Behind it were several arches leading further into the building.

The guard led them past the throne to one of those arches and into a corridor. There were doors on both walls and at least one more corridor branching off that Kíli could see. Their escort led them to a set of wide wooden doors at the end of the hall, outside of which stood a mixture of guards in armor from both Gondor and Dale.

One of latter raised his eyebrows at their approach. "Lord Counselor Balin? Whatever are you doing here? We heard you were in Dwarrowvale."

"Hello to you too, Lord Commander Magnus," Balin replied with a smile. "I am come with Master Kíli to treat with the Steward of Gondor."

Ah, Magnus, that's who he was—Bard's own bodyguard. I thought I recognized that face, Kíli mused. "Well, I've actually come to treat with the Steward on behalf of His Majesty King Ragin," he said. "Balin's come to make sure I don't screw it up."

Balin and Magnus laughed, with the former assuring him once again that he would not. One of the other Gondorian guards then turned and knocked on the door, stepping through it a moment later when a voice unknown to Kíli responded. In another moment, the doors were opened and the guards stood aside as the three men at the table stood.

"Welcome!" cried the tall Man at the head of the long table. "Do come in, my friends. The guard tells me you are emissaries from Dwarrowvale?"

Kíli and Balin stepped into the room; the doors were then closed behind them. The two formally bowed, then Kíli said, "Our apologies for arriving without notice. I bring thee greetings of friendship from His Majesty King Ragin, sir. I am Kíli, son of Síli, here to serve you. With me as aide is Balin, Lord Counselor to His Majesty Daín Ironfoot, King of Erebor."

The man at the head of the table returned the formal bow, then introduced himself as Turgon, the current Ruling Steward of Gondor. To his right was seated Ecthelion, his son, and to his left was Bard. Kíli and Balin approached the table when invited to sit and took seats on Bard's side.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again, Master Kíli," said Bard with a smile. "My wife and daughter will be overjoyed at your presence here, have you time enough to visit with them."

"We would be delighted," said Balin, before Kíli could even draw breath with which to respond.

Kíli fought the heat that had begun to creep up his neck. "I should be pleased to pay my respects, my Lord," said he.

"So tell me, Master Kíli, on what business for your king do you come to Minas Tirith?" Turgon asked.

From his bag, Kíli pulled the trade contracts. After begging everyone's pardon again for interrupting their meeting—there were several other parchments laid about the table—he explained the reason for his visit. The contracts were discussed at length, Bard listening intently, before both Gondorians at last nodded.

"I believe I may speak for my son," said Turgon after a glance at his heir, "and say that no changes need be made to the trade agreements with Dwarrowvale at this time—both sides profit already, so why modify that which is not in need of alteration?"

"Quite so, Father," said Ecthelion. "Princess Rejna is a very shrewd negotiator—I detect hints of her style in your speech."

Kíli breathed a sigh of relief—he'd feared Turgon or his son would make some demand for change that he was ill-prepared to prevent, no matter how much coaching both Rejna and Balin had given him.

"Indeed, sir," said he with a smile. "When my aunt-by-marriage was made aware of the purpose of my journey thither, she made sure to tell me how she had handled her negotiations with you in years past. I am sure you will be pleased to know that she thinks very highly of you both, and has extended her best wishes for your health and prosperity."

Ecthelion and Turgon both looked to one another, then the former said, "The princess is most kind to think as well of us as we do her."

"On your return to Dwarrowvale, Master Kíli, I pray you would extend my hearty congratulations to Her Highness on the celebration of her marriage and the impending birth of her child," added Turgon. "Word of the joyous events have spread even this far."

Kíli nodded as he stood. "We should let you get back to your work," he said. "Again, my apologies for interrupting—I ought to have waited until your meeting was concluded to bring our business to the table."

"Do not trouble yourself, Master Kíli, we had barely begun," Turgon said, dismissing his apology with a wave of his hand.

Bard chuckled. "I can only hope my own negotiations shall conclude as smoothly and quickly as yours have done, Master Dwarf," he said.

Turgon smiled. "Fear not, my friend, I am sure they will."

"Seeing as your business has been so swiftly concluded, Master Kíli, why don't you go and visit with Tauriel?" said Bard. "Magnus can show you to our quarters."

Wondering if Tilda would be with her, Kíli's throat tightened and he could only nod. After the contracts he carried were annotated by the scribble of Turgon's and Ecthelion's signatures, the two dwarves departed the room. Outside the door, Balin passed on Bard's instructions to Magnus, who frowned, but nodded and moved to lead the way.

"He hates it whenever Bard gives orders that force him to leave his king unguarded," Balin whispered to Kíli as they walked behind the soldier.

Kíli snorted. "Reminds me of Dwalin," he whispered back. "I remember how mad he got when Thorin went off to hunt once on our journey west, while Dwalin was relieving himself."

Balin laughed and Kíli laughed with him, hoping it was sufficient to cover his growing nervousness. He stared straight ahead, trying not to fidget as they walked, and as soon as they had reached their destination, he found himself smiling in recognition of the guard in the middle of three that stood before the ornate double doors.

"Ellairë!" he cried softly.

"I leave these two in your charge, Lady Commander," said Magnus. "I must return to the king."

Ellairë gave a formal nod to Magnus, who turned immediately on his heel and strode away in the direction they'd come. The elven soldier then looked to Kíli with a smile.

"It is most pleasing to see you again, Master Kíli, Lord Counselor Balin," she said. "What brings you to Minas Tirith, if I may ask?"

"I am come as a representative of His Majesty King Ragin of Dwarrowvale," Kíli replied. "Balin, as you surely know, has been there visiting with his brother. We came to renew Dwarrowvale's trade contracts with Gondor, a mission I am happy to say was very quickly completed."

Balin chuckled. "Kíli here was worried he wouldn't do a good job as King Ragin's emissary in place of Princess Rejna, but he did just fine."

Ellairë's countenance brightened. "We heard that Her Highness and Master Thorin were married and expecting a child. How very blessed they have been."

The two dwarves shared a look. "After everything that's happened this last year and a half, they are blessed indeed, my Lady," said Kíli.

"I expect you've come to see Her Majesty," said Ellairë then. "Do come inside."

She looked to the two other guards, who stepped sideways in opposite directions, before opening the two doors and leading them through. The well-appointed sitting room was spacious and neat, but at present very empty.

"I'll go and tell Tauriel you are here," Ellairë said, then moved off to an open archway to the left of the fireplace.

A moment later, from another archway opposite of the one the elf had disappeared through, came running a very small, red-haired little girl. She laughed merrily in the way of a child that was thoroughly enjoying herself, and the reason for her happiness was immediately clear when—just seconds after she entered the room—she was followed by a boy with curly brown hair.

"I'm gonna get you!" the boy cried just as the girl crashed into Kíli's legs. She fell immediately onto her bottom, then looked up.

"About time yous came!"

Kíli looked to Balin in confusion as the little boy came to a stop before them. "Master Balin! What do you do here?"

"We are come to visit with your mother, Master Lucanío," Balin replied. He then looked at the little girl, who continued to sit at Kíli's feet, staring up at him, and gestured to her. "This must be Túrelië—my has she grown."

"Aye, 'tis she," the boy replied, then looked at Kíli. "Hello again. You probably don't remember me, but I'm Lucanío—me and my guard Carr found you asleep on Ravenhill when you came back."

Kíli's brows rose. "You're Lucanío?"

The boy nodded. He was about the right size for a child of Men his age, which Kíli knew was now four years. Though they had spent three of the five days of his residence in Bard's house together, it struck him that the two had never actually met—he'd hidden himself away in his room those days, and Lucanío had been sent to stay with Sigrid's husband the day of his mother's funeral. Though he was supposed to have returned home the next day, Tauriel had come back from training without him, saying to Bard that he was having too much fun trying to teach his cousin Brannon to talk, so she'd left him in his sister's care. The day after that was the start of their journey west.

Lifting a hand to his heart, he bowed. "Kíli, son of Síli, here to serve you."

Lucanío lifted his hand to his own heart. "Prince Lucanío Pengorion, son of Bard, King of Dale," he said with a bow. When he had straightened, he added, "But you can call me Luc if you want."

At that moment, Túrelië stood and held her arms up to Kíli. "Up!" she said just as Tauriel was entering the room with her bodyguard.

"She wants you to pick her up," said Dale's queen as she started toward them, a smile on her face.

"I gathered," said Kíli. "But why? She doesn't even know me—aren't children supposed to be afraid of strangers?"

Tauriel scoffed. "Túrelië is afraid of no one, it would seem."

"Up!" Túrelië demanded again, clenching and unclenching her tiny hands as she held them toward Kíli.

Tauriel laughed, as did Balin, Ellairë, and Lucanío. "Better listen to the little princess, Master Dwarf," said Ellairë.

"Yeah, or she won't shut up until you do," added Lucanío with a roll of his eyes.

His mother turned an admonishing gaze at him. "Luc, be nice."

"Yes, Naneth," said the boy as Kíli bent slowly to lift his sister into his arms.

She was a light little thing, he mused as he settled her on his hip. "Hello there, little one."

"Hello!" Túrelië beamed back at him.

Kíli looked to Tauriel. "She's not even a year old; I can't believe she's talking already—and walking!"

The two grown elves looked to one another with smiles. "It's an elvish thing," Tauriel said. "We learn to walk and talk very early on, though perfect grammar takes a little more time. Now come, sit and make yourselves comfortable. It's so good to see you! I'll send for some refreshments, and you must tell me how you've been all these months."

They were settled, Túrelië making it clear she wished to remain on Kíli's lap for the time being, before Balin asked, "And where is Princess Tilda, if I may inquire?"

Tauriel instructed Ellairë to send a servant for drinks and food for their guests; the guard quickly departed to carry out the task. Dale's queen looked back to her visitors with a frown, surprising them both.

"She and her handmaiden, under the watchful eye of Tormen, are with Denethor, son of Ecthelion," said she. "He is showing her the 'wonders of the city'."

Kíli tried his best not to flinch at the mention of Ecthelion's son, and ignored the glance Balin sent his way as though to gauge his reaction.

"You do not seem pleased, Your Majesty," said the elder dwarf slowly.

Tauriel snorted. "Not particularly, no," she admitted. "My husband has been in communication with Lord Turgon since they met on the expedition five years ago, but it was not until earlier this year that his Lordship made a point of mentioning that his grandson and my second daughter are the same age, and what a wonderful thing it would be if we could strengthen the bond between our countries with a marriage."

Kíli ground his teeth together, pointedly keeping his eyes on the baby he held lest the child's mother see how livid the idea made him—though by the tone she used, Tauriel was no more pleased than he, which was some small comfort.

Again Balin spoke for him, saying, "You mean to say that King Bard desires Princess Tilda marry the boy?"

"He desires that she spend time with him and consider it," Tauriel said bitterly, causing Kíli to look up at her at last. She was most definitely not pleased, and he wondered if she and Bard had argued about it.

"I understand that such a union between Dale and Gondor would indeed strengthen our ties," she went on, "but I cannot abide it. Tilda should be granted as much freedom to choose her mate as was Sigrid, as Bain will be given when he is ready to take a wife and our little ones in their turn. This feels… too political. I do not like it."

"I am sure the princess' feelings will be given their due consideration," said Balin.

"They'd better be," Kíli muttered, surprised when Túrelië patted him on the cheek.

"She like you."

His eyebrows lifted, and again he looked to Tauriel. She, in turn, looked almost stunned. "Are you well, madam?" he asked her.

Tauriel blinked. "Forgive me, it's just that… Well, we have suspected for some time that Túrelië may have a gift," she said. "Ever since she began to talk, she has often told us of things she has seen, yet could not have. I have written to Lord Elrond and he believes her to have been blessed with a form of foresight."

"So she sees the future, like he does?" Kíli queried.

Before Tauriel could reply, the door to the suite opened again, this time to admit the one person that Kíli had truly been anxious to see. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a bright, delighted smile was directed his way.

"Kíli!" cried Tilda.

Carefully, he moved Túrelië off his lap and stood. "Hello, Princess."