Hey all! Welcome to another chapter. I would have gotten this out much earlier today, as was my intention, but for the fact that I got the go-ahead to pick up a cat I have been wanting to adopt from a rescue, and the facility is a three-hour drive one way. My beautiful Russian Blue boy is in the spare room right now, crying because he's alone, but I have another cat and I want to take time to introduce them so there are no fights. I also want to give him a name from The Hobbit/LotR, so if you have any ideas for names, feel free to share!

As always, I thank all of you for reading, especially the rock stars who left me a few words on the last chapter: Western Witch, Sparky She-Demon, Robinbird79, Celebrisilweth, Aashi, SpringViolets, Emma Ta, Ever Play, and djhay4. You really make my day when you love what I write.

Aashi - There is definitely a strong connection between them, one that neither will be able to ignore!

Emma Ta - Thank you so very much for the kind words! I'm absolutely chuffed you love the story so much.

Ever Play - Glad you're looking forward to their interaction! Yeah, Kili was adorably awkward trying to ignore and then just behave once he realized his family was right about Tilda!

And now, for the next chapter...

89. Troublemaker

Tilda took extra care with her choice of gowns when she dressed for dinner. She had Erina, her maid, take extra care with fixing her hair.

It was probably foolish to fuss over her appearance, she mused the entire time. She'd thought herself over it—the silly infatuation born of only two or three days' acquaintance more than a year and a half ago. An infatuation she had denied to Fíli, of course, because what girl in her right mind would admit to feeling an attraction to a male who'd once been in love with her own stepmother?

Well, Tauriel was clearly off limits now, and if her mind hadn't played tricks on her, Kíli barely acknowledged the elf earlier that day. His attention had been solely for her, except for that moment when she'd suggested it was his turn to settle down and start a family. What had that reaction been about?

Then, of course, Túrelië had predicted he would save her. Save her from what? Minas Tirith was a peaceful city. She'd heard some talk on the tour with Denethor about how there'd been trouble with orcs from across the Anduin in years past, but Ecthelion's son had assured her when she asked that there was nothing to be concerned about in the White City.

She was confused as to how she could possibly be so endangered in such a safe place that required that she be rescued.

Of course, to have someone like Kíli saving her from that harm… Well, it would almost be worth it. Oh, Elbereth, how handsome he was! Undressing him for the examination after their discovery on Ravenhill had been entirely clinical—as a healer, she had been taught several techniques for distancing herself from any emotional attachments or physical reactions to her patients. And at first, that was absolutely all she'd thought about—just making sure he was okay.

It was only as she had begun the process of putting Kíli's clothes back on him that Tilda had started to take notice of his physique. He had well-defined musculature, broad shoulders, and a narrower waist than nearly every dwarf of her acquaintance. His lack of a beard had enabled her to notice the definition of his jawline, the shape of his lips…

Of course, a year and a half ago, she'd known about his feelings for Tauriel. She'd reminded herself that the dwarf she constantly thought of, who hid in his room for three days straight, would only see her as the little girl he'd met years before in Lake-town. It was stupid of her to be attracted to him.

But even feeling certain that nothing would ever happen between them hadn't stopped her wanting to see his face again. It hadn't stopped her desperation to keep him from running away, or her desire to comfort him when he was angry and hurt over Thorin's obstinance and his mother's death. She'd wanted even then to just hold him and tell him again that everything would be all right.

With a sigh, Tilda pushed her memories back into the mental crate she kept them locked in. Seeing him again had brought all the feelings she'd thought she had conquered roaring back to the surface. But what was the point? Even if Kíli had gotten over Tauriel in the last year and a half, she would still be the little girl from Lake-town.

"Everything all right, Princess?" Erina asked.

Tilda drew a breath. "I'm fine, Erina. Just…thinking."

A glance in the mirror over her dressing table showed Tilda that once again, her maid had done an excellent job. Her hair was elegantly coiffed, but not elaborately so. A few tendrils perfectly framed her face while the rest was braided and wrapped at the crown of her head.

She wondered if Kíli might at least think her pretty, even if he never thought of her as mature enough for someone like him.

Suppressing another sigh, she rose and stepped into her slippers, then headed out of her bedchamber. Their suite of rooms had a small, private breakfast room in which they'd planned to eat tonight; it was thankfully roomy enough to include their two guests. Her father had been pleased on his return that afternoon to learn she and Tauriel had invited them.

When his wife had explained why, he had laughed and replied, "Indeed I would like to hear more of their stories! I especially want to hear about Thorin and the princess—I told that stubborn old goat he might yet find a lady, and he swore he was too old to marry. Now he's not only a husband but soon to be a father. I can't wait to laugh with him about it when we meet again."

Tilda had hoped throughout the afternoon and early evening—though she knew it to be a vain hope—that Tauriel would not mention Túrelië's little prediction about Kíli saving her. She was sure there was no danger to be had no matter how accurate her little sister had been in the past few months. If her father heard even the hint of trouble, he would double or triple her guard—if he even let her go out at all.

One of the things she loved best about him was his fierce protectiveness. But oh, could that protectiveness be smothering at times! She remembered all too well how restricted her comings and goings had been last spring, when the slavers had taken twenty of Dale's people and ten of Erebor's—well, eleven, as it turned out, seeing as Dís had not really died.

Her father was the first person she met in the dining room. "Ah, Tilda, I am pleased to have a moment alone with you," he said.

She suppressed a sigh. Here we go.

"Tauriel told me that Túrelië had another of her predictions while Kíli and Balin were here earlier—something about him saving you?"

"Da, please," Tilda replied. "She didn't say my name, she only said he would save 'her'. The person she spoke of could really be anyone."

He conceded the point with a nod of his head. "Be that as it may, dearest, I would very much appreciate it if you would take all possible precautions. We are, after all, in a city that is unfamiliar to you."

"So Kíli pointed out, Da."

"And he was right to do so," her father rejoined. "Minas Tirith is not Dale, Tilda. Even there we have seen danger—your mother was poisoned by one of our own, and here we are surrounded by strangers."

Tilda swallowed against the onslaught of memories from those days. Never had she seen her father more despondent than when he'd thought he would lose Tauriel and Lucanío to Dorna's poison—not even when she'd run away from him. Then, at least, he'd known through their bond that she was still alive.

"We may have seen nothing but peace here these last few days, but I'm well aware that anything can happen in an apparently peaceful city. As are you."

Drawing a breath, she reached over and took her father's hand. "I promise you, Da, I'll be careful. You know Tormen will be with me wherever I go, and I've already asked Kíli and Balin to go 'round the city with me as well. Balin reminded me we didn't see much when last we were here, and Kíli's never been."

Her father returned her smile. "Perhaps I shall ask them as well—maybe a request from the King of Dale will make them more amenable to saying yes."

Dinner was thankfully free of more of Túrelië's predictions and full of storytelling on the part of Kíli. He talked of his family's journey to the Shire, Dwalin's chaperoned courtship of his wife ("Poor Bilbo!" her father said), the three wolves Larkspur had helped rescue ("I wish Thafar could have come with us, but I was afraid the city would be too much for him, and didn't know how the people here would react"), and traveling across Dunland with Gandalf and the two elves.

Her father was especially delighted by Kíli's recounting of Thorin and Rejna's courtship, at which he expressed the same sentiments as Balin had ("Foolish Durin stubbornness") when he heard how Thorin had tried to deny his fate. Fíli was praised for his unwavering support of his wife, Melindë, and joy was expressed by all when Kíli and Balin spoke of the two children born, and the one soon to come.

"I must admit, I should like to see Thorin Oakenshield as a father," said Bard.

Tauriel smiled. "I have had a glimpse of his gentleness with children," said she, then turning a glance to her son, added, "He once held you, ion nín, and carried you to your bed."

Lucanío smiled. "I remember that night, sort of. He sang a song to me, but I didn't get to hear it all because I fell asleep."

"Thorin sang for you?" Kíli asked. Lucanío nodded. "What was the song?"

"I don't know the title, but it had something to do with going over a mountain and some old caverns," the boy replied.

Kíli exchanged a look with Balin. "Far Over the Misty Mountains," said the latter. "Upon my word… Last I remember hearing that one was the night before we left Bilbo's during the quest."

"I think that's the last I heard it as well," Kíli replied.

"You know the song, then?" Tilda queried.

He nodded. "I do—but don't you go asking me to sing it! I'm not a performer, Princess."

Tilda laughed. "Are you sure I can't talk you into it?" she teased.

Kíli shook his head vehemently, though even as she watched him, they way his gaze held hers for a moment made her wonder if he would sing for her should they ever be alone.

"Speaking of talking someone into something," her father spoke up. "Seeing as Kíli so expertly handled his reason for coming to Minas Tirith in hardly an hour's time, I wonder if I might be able to trouble you for more."

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" Kíli asked.

"First, none of that—I told you back in Dale you needn't address me so. Second, I just figured since you had all this free time to go about as you please, you might consider spending some of it escorting my daughter about the city."

Tilda barely contained the urge to roll her eyes—her father wasn't fooling anyone except maybe the children with his nonchalant tone. Kíli looked to Balin, and it was clear that they, too, understood his meaning.

The younger dwarf then turned his gaze to her, and Tilda felt her heart flutter when he smiled. Then Kíli looked back to her father and, with an insouciant lift of his shoulder, replied, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. After all, if Thorin and the king will talk me into doing this job once, they're likely to try it again next year. It's probably best I learn about this city while I'm here and have the time."

"Agreed, cousin," added Balin with a casual air. "I'm sure Daín would appreciate a more thorough report on Minas Tirith upon my long-awaited return to the Lonely Mountain."

"Excellent!" cried Dale's king with a clap of his hands. "You can all of you learn about the city, have some fun together, and poor Tormen will have some male company for a time."

As if Carr isn't standing with him right outside our door, Tilda mused.

After desert, Lucanío and Túrelië were taken off to bed by Tauriel, and Kíli and Balin prepared to say farewell. She and her father walked with the dwarves to the door, and as he was thanking them for agreeing to spend time with her, Lucanío returned to the sitting room and said, in an exasperated tone, "Dada, Túrelië won't get into bed. She says she won't until you tuck her in."

Tilda laughed with her father and their guests. "She's a demanding one, your sister," he said, and with a lift of his hand said good night, then turned and walked with his son to the children's room.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Tilda said after she watched him go.

Balin nodded and looked to Kíli. "You will, Princess," said the latter.

"Thank you for tolerating my father's over-protectiveness," she said as she impulsively reached for his hand and pressed it between hers. "I'm sure that nothing will happen, but he would not be swayed."

"Nor will I," Kíli told her as he gave her fingers a light squeeze. "Whether the danger is true or no, I'll do all in my power to prevent it. So until the day you head north again, you're stuck with me."

Tilda grinned hugely. "There are worse people to be stuck spending every moment of the day with," she said.

"Like Denethor?" he suggested.

She laughed. "Denethor's not so bad. A little too full of himself, perhaps, seeing as one day he'll be Steward, but he seemed nice enough."

"Well, um… Just don't go making a decision just yet. You barely know the guy," Kíli said.

Her eyes widened. "Good heavens, how did you…? Tauriel—I can't believe she told you! Look, Kíli, whatever she said, just forget it. I may have been encouraged by my father to consider him, but no. I'm not interested in marrying Denethor. He's nowhere near ready to be a husband—not to mention Da's not likely to agree to a marriage with anyone until I'm at least as old as Sigrid was when she and Téomas were married."

Much to her private satisfaction, Kíli seemed greatly relieved by the news that she wasn't interested in Denethor, but then he was just as easily disappointed on hearing immediately after that she'd not be allowed to marry for at least another year. Maybe it was possible after all, she thought, that he could see her as a woman and not just a child.

The next nine days would certainly tell her for sure.

"Well, we'd better go, Princess," said Kíli then, and to her surprise, he lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.

Tilda blushed wildly at the romantic gesture, especially as his lips lingered against her skin for just a fraction of a moment longer than they should. Kíli then seemed almost pained when he abruptly dropped her hand, nodded, and turned smartly toward the door.

"Good night, Princess Tilda," said Balin. "We'll see you in the morning."

A soft sigh escaped her as soon as the door closed behind them. She couldn't wait until morning.

-…-

The next few days were a mixture of exquisite pleasure and painful torture to Kíli. He was overjoyed and rejuvenated each time he set eyes on Tilda, and every moment in her company was bliss.

Unfortunately, it was also painful. The more time he spent with her, the less he could deny what his body was telling him—she was indeed his One. His skin burned with every innocent touch, and his body ached with a hunger that felt both shameful and exhilarating. Tilda was still so young, so sweet and innocent, but he could also see the maturity of the last five and a half years' experience in her eyes and her manner. She didn't behave like the curious little girl he remembered from the quest, but like a young lady on the cusp of true womanhood. She was intelligent, graceful, kind…

It was small comfort to realize that perhaps she wasn't too young, and he not too old, after all. She had herself said it would be at least another year before her father would allow her to marry. How in the world was he going to manage waiting an entire year to satisfy the firestorm? Balin had claimed he'd go with them to the north just to be near her, but Kíli wondered if perhaps the distance between Dale and Dwarrowvale would be necessary. Already he barely controlled the urge to take her in her arms and kiss her senseless, to do things to her he'd never done to any female.

The nights when he and Balin retired to their inn made him glad they'd taken separate rooms. Alone in the dark, he could entertain those thoughts that felt both wrong and right, and handle his need in private. Thinking, dreaming of the day when he could have his princess was the only thing that helped him get through the days in her company when he could do nothing.

That is, if she wanted him in return. He had no idea if she cared for him in the way he cared for her.

Balin had encouraged him more than once to open up to Tilda and tell her she was his One. It was plain as the day was long, his cousin said, that she enjoyed his company immensely, for she always greeted them with a smile, held Kíli's arm as they walked about the city, and there was sadness in her eyes every time they parted.

"Bal, I can't. The princess is not a dwarf—I can't expect her to just accept that our Maker chose her for me. Larkspur and Melindë needed time, so I mean Tilda to have the same."

He could tell that the elder dwarrow bit back a groan at his words. Balin had then drawn a breath and said, "Laddie, have you not considered that she is waiting on you? While it's certainly clear that you both enjoy spending time together, there has been no indication on your part that you think more of her than mere friendship. You must give her some undeniable sign that your feelings for her are stronger than that."

Kíli had allowed himself to groan in exasperation. "And perhaps I need some sign from her, damn it! Have you not considered that? Yes, I can see that she likes spending time with me, but where's my undeniable sign that she desires more? Her behavior thus far has given me no indication that she thinks of me as anything other than a friend."

Balin stood straight. "That really bothers you, doesn't it? That she might not care for you in that way."

"Of course it does! Be just my bloody luck to wait all this time to finally recognize she who is truly my One, only to have her not even want me."

His cousin had taken one look at his slumped, dejected posture and sat beside him again, placing a hand on his shoulder as he said, "Kíli, I truly believe you have nothing to worry about. As I said, I've gotten to know the princess fairly well, I think, over the years. Well enough that I am certain she does like you. Daughters of Men are not so unlike dams, lad, in that they need clear communication from a male that they are desired—cherished, even."

Balin gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I still say you should tell her, Kíli. Tell her she is your One, or at least… at least tell her that you want to court her. Start with that, and see where it takes you."

Kíli had stared back for a long moment, then sighed in resignation. "I suppose you're right—if I propose courtship, and she says no, at least then I can be sure of her feelings one way or another."

The two then went to the inn's dining room, ate a hearty breakfast, and afterward began the trek up to the Citadel for their daily visit. Kíli had no idea when he might broach the subject of courtship with Tilda, but he would keep his eyes and ears open for the opportunity. As much as he wished for her to make a sure, informed choice to be with him, he wasn't sure he could much longer stand not knowing how she felt. He'd truly thought something she would say or do would be clear to him, telling him her feelings on the matter, but then… what the devil did he know about women? For all he knew, she had been telling him she liked him, and he just hadn't recognized the signs.

He almost laughed to think of signs. He'd not missed any of those that Thorin had spoken of that night near two years ago—they'd not shared a kiss, certainly, but Kíli had held her hand or had her arm on his often enough to feel as though he perpetually burned, he had touched his lips to her skin if not her mouth, and those eyes! Durin's beard, he couldn't get enough of those beautiful blue eyes.

And then, of course, there were his dreams.

Shaking his head as they made their way into the Citadel and toward the guest wing, Kíli forcefully pushed those thoughts far into the back of his mind—now was most certainly not the time to go there.

As he and Balin neared the turn in the corridor that would take them to the Dale party's quarters, they heard a commotion. Tilda's voice very clearly said "And I said no!" Increasing their pace took the dwarves around the corner in time to witness her throwing a young man's hand off her arm, and her bodyguard stepping between the two with his hand on his sword.

"I believe my lady has bid you good day, sir," Tormen said firmly.

Kíli scowled as he and Balin approached; Tilda's eyes alighted upon them, and if he was not mistaken, she was relieved to see him.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

The young man, hardly more than a boy given his youthful appearance, turned to them with a sneer. "This is none of your concern, dwarf. Why do you not make yourself scarce? My princess and I have hardly seen each other these last few days because of you."

Kíli felt his scowl deepen, anger burning in his veins, though he had not time to speak before Tilda herself said, "I am not your princess, Denethor! As I told you, I very much appreciate your kindness to me, but my answer is no. I must insist that you leave now."

So this is Denethor, Kíli thought. Not much to him. The son of Ecthelion was tall, about the same height as Tormen, but thin and lanky—at least he appeared to be, as it was near impossible to tell given the long robes he wore. He was certainly not broad in the shoulders nor were his hands large, and what he could see of them told Kíli that the kid hadn't spent an hour laboring at any real task.

Tilda deserves so much better than this guy, he told himself.

Denethor, at that moment, turned back to Tilda. "My dear, I will come back to you later that we can speak of this again. You know it is what our fathers want for us."

Tilda scoffed. "I cannot speak for yours, but what my father wants for me is to be happy in my choice—and I have already told him that I do not believe you and I will suit. Please, do me the honor of believing me and respecting my decision."

"Seems to me Her Highness has made the matter quite clear," said Kíli. "I think you should go."

Denethor whirled on him. "And I told you to mind your own!"

His features contorted in anger, he glanced over his shoulder at Tilda and told her, "We will speak again," before storming away from her. As he walked past, Denethor's shoulder bumped hard into Kíli, the contact clearly intentional.

Kíli reached out and took hold of his arm. "Oi! Watch yourself, boy."

Denethor jerked his arm free. "Don't touch me, and stay out of my way!" he growled angrily before stalking off down the hall.

Kíli turned his attention to Tilda, and took a step toward her as he asked, "Princess, are you well?"

She nodded. "I'm all right, thank you. I'm so glad you came along when you did—I thought he'd try to follow me inside."

Tormen snorted. "He'd not have got past me, Princess."

Tilda turned a smile up at her guardian. "I know, but still… Oh please, dear Kíli, Master Balin, do come inside."

She turned around and opened the door, throwing it wide that they could follow, but for a moment Kíli could only stare after her. Dear Kíli… She'd never called him that before. Was this perhaps the sign he had been longing for?