Welcome back! Aren't you excited there's yet another chapter?! Let me tell you, this last week has been AMAZING. I dunno what lit the fire under my Muse's behind, but I have so far written seven COMPLETE chapters, and you will continue to get them on Monday and Thursday until I run out or my Muse quits on me again, whichever comes first.

I have to give big thanks to the rockstar readers who took the extra step to leave a few words: djhay4, Sparky She-Demon, Robinbird79, Aashi, SpringViolets, Ever Play, Jessa, and Ardent. Y'all are too kind, and I love your enthusiasm!

Aashi - Yes, even Túrelië knows what's up! Now if we could just get Kíli and Tilda on the same page... As to Denethor, while he's going to be up to a few tricks, he's not entirely nuts yet. He didn't really lose his mind until he started screwing around with the palantir.

Ever Play - I'm glad you're stoked, because it's happening this chapter!

Jessa - I am chuffed to know I've made someone's romantic dreams come true. The movies definitely played Kíli as a bit of a lonely heart. And I am humbled that you think this story an example of "creative genius".

Ardent - I am so happy you are enjoying my portrayal of Kíli!

88. Reunited

"Reunited and it feels so good."

"Reunited" ~ Peaches and Herb

Almost before he knew what was happening, she had crossed the room and grabbed his hand.

"It is so good to see you!" Tilda said joyfully. "I almost can't believe it. What are you doing here in Minas Tirith?"

Kíli couldn't answer. Where her skin touched his, it felt as though a fire burned. Her eyes, clear and shining, he suddenly realized were the color of cornflowers, and in that moment knew with unwavering certainty that he loved that color.

"I… We…" Why couldn't he speak?

Balin stood and turned to her. "We're here because Kíli was asked by King Ragin to act as his emissary, to renew Dwarrowvale's trade contracts with Gondor," he said. "Now that's done, we are free to spend all our time getting reacquainted with old friends."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Tilda replied. She then took note of the fact that she was still holding Kíli's hand and let it go; he was both grateful and regretful not to feel her touch any longer.

The feeling of relief, as the moment contact was broken he found he could finally think clearly, didn't last long. Tilda then took him by the arm and drew him down to sit beside her on the sofa—now his entire right side was aflame.

This couldn't be happening! Not now, not when he most needed to be able to think and speak rationally!

"You really must tell us everything you've been up to since you went away," Tilda was saying.

Kíli cleared his throat and finally forced coherent sentences past his lips. "It would take more hours than there are in a day, I'm afraid. There is… quite a lot to tell," he managed.

They were interrupted again by a knock at the door; this time it was a maid, escorted inside by Ellairë. She pushed a serving cart laden with what looked to be a tea service, along with a pitcher of water and fruits, cheeses, bread rolls, and cold meats. For the next few minutes, Tauriel and Tilda busied themselves with serving their guests and the children; Kíli and Balin were grateful for the repast as they'd skipped breakfast at the inn so as to arrive before midday.

"So," said Tilda after some minutes. "Nori told us that Dwalin married a Hobbit."

"Aye," replied a smiling Balin. "Her name is Larkspur, and she's a cousin of Bilbo's. I am also an uncle now, for they have a son who was born in February."

"How wonderful!" said Tauriel. "What is the boy called?"

"Dwalar—the first part of his adad's name and his amad's, combined into one."

"It's perfect," said Tilda.

"I'm an uncle too, now," offered Kíli. "Fíli's wife Melindë bore their daughter just last month. She's called Meldís, after Mel and my amad."

Tilda's eyes widened. "Upon my word—Fíli's married too! I'd near forgotten. Thorin is as well, right? And his wife is with child?"

Kíli nodded. "Three of the four of you that left are married and starting families," said Tilda. "It's your turn now, Kíli."

He nearly spit the mouthful of tea he'd just taken all over Tauriel; as it was, he choked a little trying to stop himself. Tilda started patting him on the back as he coughed and sputtered, setting his back on fire. Though her intention was to aid and comfort, he felt nothing but tortured.

"Good heavens, Kíli, are you all right?"

"Quite well, thank you," he managed at last, then set his cup down and stood, moving away to put some distance between them. Mahal, but he could hardly think straight sitting next to her—and then she had to go and say something like that?!

He watched her turn to Balin. "Did I say something wrong?"

Balin, rosy-cheeked with amusement, smiled and said, "No, my dear. Our Kíli's just had something pointed out to him on the subject recently, and I believe he is beginning to realize we were right."

"And that's enough about that," he all but growled as he turned back and moved to sit in a chair adjacent to the sofa. Looking to Tauriel, he said, "You were saying something before about Túrelië having a gift?"

Tauriel nodded. "We believe so, yes," she said. "As I said, she will sometimes speak of things she could not possibly have seen—mostly little things that have happened to someone in the family. And last evening she said…"

She drifted off, her eyes moving from him to Tilda and back again. "She said what?" Kíli pressed.

The elf cleared her throat softly. "She said 'Tilly's dwarf coming.'"

About time yous came, Túrelië had said the moment she looked up at him.

She like you, she'd said after they'd talked of the possibility of Tilda marrying the son of Ecthelion.

Tilda laughed. "She must have seen us together," she said, then looked down at her baby sister, who now sat with Lucanío on the floor with a plate of finger foods between them. "Is that it, sweetie? You saw me with my friend?"

Túrelië, at that moment, was staring at Kíli. She then suddenly smiled and said, "It okay, Kiwi. You saves her."

For a moment, the adults were all of them shocked into silence, then suddenly the 10-month-old girl stood and said, "Come Luc. We go play."

Lucanío looked to his mother, who nodded. The boy stood and took his sister's hand, leading her toward the archway they'd come out of, though he looked back over his shoulder with concern as they stepped through it.

"Um, save who?" said Tilda with a nervous laugh.

Tauriel blinked, her eyes once again flitting between Tilda and Kíli. "Túrelië's visions aren't as subjective as Elrond's," she said slowly. "His are of what could be. Hers are of what will be. Though there have not been many, she has seen future events that usually happen within a few days."

"Oh come on," said Tilda. "You don't really think she saw Kíli saving someone? Saving me?"

Dale's queen looked to her stepdaughter. "Tilda, you know every one of your sister's predictions have come true."

"But I'm in no danger here!" Tilda protested. "What could possibly happen to me in a place like this?"

"No one believed Rejna could be attacked in her own chambers, Princess," said Kíli. "And yet a demented dwarf threw her down a flight of stairs in what was supposed to be a secret escape tunnel. She was in her own home, and she came to harm."

He leaned forward. "My own mother was poisoned for four years in her own home in Erebor. You are in a city wholly unfamiliar to you."

Tilda scoffed. "I've been here before, Kíli."

"That was five years ago, my dear," Balin pointed out. "And we stayed only a couple of days, in which I believe you and your brother and sister did not see much beyond the market level and the Citadel."

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" said Tilda in an aggravated tone as she pushed to her feet, pacing away from them. "So a child not yet a year old has made a few accurate predictions of some rather insignificant events. I refuse to believe she has now seen me in some form of danger which Kíli is apparently going to save me from."

"Tilda, please," said Kíli as he jumped to his feet. He moved to stand beside her, noting absently—and with pleasure—that they remained the same height. He remembered looking directly into her eyes the night he'd gotten his memories back, when she'd stopped him running out the door.

"Surely you know we are not trying to frighten you," he said; taking the risk of feeling the burning sensation that touching her would bring, he reached for her hand and held it gently between his. "I don't want to think of you coming to any harm I have to save you from, believe me. But I beg you would at least consider the fact that, if every other prediction she has made has come to pass, this might also. Please, do not go anywhere without an escort."

His heart flittered wildly when she smiled. "Well, you've no need to worry I shall, as I've an armed bodyguard who attends me at all times. Tormen has been my guardian ever since that witch Dorna tried to kill Tauriel."

Kíli flicked a glance over his shoulder at Tauriel. "How well trained is this guardian of hers?"

Tauriel smirked at him. "Very—I trained him myself."

He nodded. "Good." Looking back to Tilda, Kíli added, "If he has been trained by the best, then I shall worry less."

Tilda giggled. "Trying your hand at poetry now, are you?"

"Hardly. I just… I should not like anything to happen to you, Princess," Kíli replied.

"You know how you can be sure nothing will, don't you?" she said with a grin.

He lifted an eyebrow. "How's that?"

Tilda's smile widened. "Come and see us every day you're here. I can show you all the sights that Denethor showed me today, and we can also explore on our own, if you like. Then you and Balin can dine with us every night."

"'Tis a solid plan, laddie," said Balin. "It was, after all, our intention to visit with our northern neighbors and journey with them to Dwarrowvale in another nine days."

"So we will see more of you?" asked Tilda.

"Aye," said Kíli. "At least as much of me as you can tolerate."

Tilda scoffed. "You think I'll get tired of you?" She pulled her hand from his and lifted it to his cheek.

Oh, how it burned. How he loved to be staring into her eyes…

"Silly dwarf, I've seen you wearing next to nothing. Seeing your face every day will not make me sick of you."

Kíli frowned as she took her hand from his face, momentarily distracted from the fire heating his skin by what she'd said. "When could you possibly have seen me wearing next to nothing, Princess?"

"The night you came back to us," Tilda replied. "I was the one who stripped you and checked you for injuries, then redressed you—I am a healer, if you'll recall."

Kíli's eyes widened. "So that is when we… That's why yours was the first face I saw."

She nodded. "There were three of you, and Dale has three healers. Laivindil, Gildan, and I each tended one of you."

Speaking of that night brought it back to him. He recalled seeing Gildan next to Thorin's bed and Laivindil next to his brother's. Tilda leaning over him, assuring him that all would be well as she held his hand and stroked back his hair, was forever etched into his memory as the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

He then cleared his throat to push that memory aside. "And you got stuck with me," he quipped. "You poor thing."

She smiled at him again, and Kíli found that it was all he could to to stop himself from touching her face as she'd done his—no way it would be interpreted as anything other than an intimate gesture, and he wasn't even quite ready to admit what was happening to him, let alone initiate contact which could lead to a lot more questions than he was presently willing to answer.

Though it pained him to do so, he took a step back. "Let us take our leave, Balin. Wouldn't want to overstay our welcome."

Relief flooded through him when Balin did not argue with the request and rose. "Thank you for the tea, Your Majesty," said the elder dwarf to Tauriel. "I am sure we shall see you again soon."

"This evening, won't you?" said Tilda. "Do join us for dinner—I'm sure Da won't mind."

"Do you not dine with the steward and his family?" asked Kíli.

"Not tonight," said Tauriel as she stood. "Bard has been with Lord Turgon and Ecthelion much of the day the last few days, and Túrelië has been missing her ada. He promised we would have dinner together with just our family tonight."

"Then we will not interfere," said Kíli, though he already longed to be with Tilda again.

"I am sure you would be welcome, Kíli," Tauriel told him with a smile. "Though we have heard some of your family's news through Daín and also Nori, I'm sure my husband is as eager as we are to hear more."

Tilda clasped her hands together. "Please say you'll come."

Kíli looked into her eyes, knowing for certain that he should say no, but desperately wanting to say yes.

'Yes' won, and after pledging that he and Balin would attend them that evening, the two departed. Long minutes passed in tense silence as they made their way through the Citadel, across the long courtyard, and down to the level below. They reached the inn where they'd booked rooms and Balin followed Kíli into his before either of them spoke a word.

"Kíli," began Balin, but the younger dwarf held up his hand to stop him.

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't say 'I told you so.' I'm not in the mood."

Balin sighed. "That was not my intention, lad, though I will say that I am pleased you no longer deny the connection between you."

"I can't think about that right now," Kíli protested. "How can I think about that—how can I think about her in that way? I'm too old for her!"

"A son of Men your age would be, certainly, but you are a dwarf, Kíli," Balin said. "By our standards, you're still a very young male. You'll not even be considered middle-aged until you're twice as old as you are now!"

Kíli groaned and threw his head back, looking toward the ceiling. "Mahal, how could you do this to me? She's just a girl!"

"Among her people she's a woman grown, Kíli, or nearly so," Balin reminded him. "In some places she might well have been married by now."

He held his hands up placatingly when that statement earned him a growl. The elder dwarrow then drew a breath and said, "May I ask why you object to Princess Tilda so—other than the age difference?"

"I don't know," Kíli replied as he turned and dropped onto the end of his bed. "There's nothing wrong with her—she's lovely, with eyes the color of cornflowers. Her smile is… It's beautiful. She's beautiful."

"So you're no longer blind to her beauty—that's a good thing." Balin smiled. "Would you like to know what Rejna said of her when first they met?"

Kíli looked up. "What did she say?"

"Tilda had just said the princess was very pretty 'for a dwarf'. Sigrid apologized for her, saying her sister did not know when not to be blunt, to which Rejna replied that 'Bluntness is favored among dwarves, young lady. Your sister would make a very fine wife for one of my kin if she keeps that trait.'"

He chuckled. "Keep it she has, lad. In the years since reclaiming the mountain, Dale and Erebor have worked closely together, our royal families especially so. I've gotten to know that lass up there quite well, and Princess Tilda is very blunt, outspoken, opinionated, and forceful—just like a dam. She hasn't the least problem with dwarves; in fact, she's made a point of learning about our culture, has spent time with Oín learning our medical practices… And did you not once say that she reminded you of your mother?"

Kíli snorted. "Fat lot of good it did me to tell her so," he said. "She'd told me off once when I was being a sod, and when Thorin was being a lalkhun and trying to keep our memories of Valinor from Fee and me, it was she who followed me to stop me running off in a rage. She was blunt, as you described her, yet kind to me. She listened when I talked of my pain at losing Amad—when I thought we had lost Amad. I told her the next morning she had reminded me of her, and I swear I meant it as a compliment to her generosity of spirit, though Fíli cuffed me and told me never to compare a woman to my mother."

Balin laughed. "Indeed, laddie—even I know better than to do that."

He sighed then, and moved to sit next to Kíli. "Even then—blinded by the pain of losing your mother, from knowing that Tauriel had chosen another—you saw those traits which make Princess Tilda perfectly suited to being a dwarf's mate. And not just any dwarf's—yours."

Your kinsman speaks true, my son, said a voice in his mind. For many long months have your heart and mind suffered, tortured by the pain of grief and loneliness. What better match could I choose for a soul in need of healing than the soul of a healer?

Kíli—distracted by having heard Mahal's voice—blinked and looked at his cousin, studied his expression, then said, "You don't think it the least strange that Mahal chose for me a girl I'd met when she was just a child of eleven years? A girl who even now is not of an age where I can truly make her mine?"

He jumped to his feet and began to pace in agitation, going on before Balin could reply. "And what if Tilda doesn't want me? What if she gets hung up on the age difference, or the fact that I used to be in love with her stepmother? What if she thinks I'm a creepy old man or wonders if I'm only with her because I want to be near Tauriel?"

Balin stood again. "Mahal does not make mistakes, Kíli," he said. "I daresay the Maker would not have chosen the princess if he was not certain she would return your love. When Tilda sees how utterly devoted you are to her, she will know your heart—you have only to show it to her. Tell her she is your One, she'll know what that means."

Kíli shook his head. Although Balin made sense, although Mahal had spoken to him as he had spoken to Thorin and to Fíli, he just could not agree that was the right thing to do—at least, not yet. "No. She may have a few dwarvish behaviors, but I'll not force our ways on her. I don't want her to feel obligated to be with me just because I believe she was chosen for me."

His cousin shook his head. "Kíli, you're no less stubborn than Thorin. Don't be a fool and fight what is meant to be like he did."

"I don't plan to fight it, though neither will I encourage it," Kíli declared. "I want Tilda to make her own choice."

Balin, his hands fisted on his hips, lifted a bushy eyebrow and said, "And what if—though I doubt it will come to it—she does choose young Denethor, or some other lad?"

Kíli closed his eyes as he drew a deep breath and held it, praying that would not be the case before he looked again to Balin and replied, "Then she chooses another and I die alone."