When all the dirt, sweat, and blood was scrubbed from my body, I fell asleep just as I was in my towel into the bed. The work from hunting for the day wore me to the bone. Just thinking of Kili had me eager to find him in my dreams.
In the meadow near my house, I was lying next to Kili. We both were laying down starring off into the night sky.
He turned to me, not so surprised to see me, "I figured when I dream of me by myself, is when I know I will be able to actually talk to you."
We finally stopped sharing our dreams of each other to one another. It was a boring habit unless something exciting happened. I rolled over onto my stomach so that I could give him my full attention. The cold grass wiggled in and out of my toes, causing me to giggle at the tickling sensation and kick them up above.
"I think you're a Hobbit," he sighed, almost dejectedly.
A horse laugh escaped me, "What in the world is a Hobbit?"
Kili crawled in front of me so that we were face to face, also on his stomach. The worn long sleeved blue tunic he wore radiated warmth. A small shiver escaped me, it was pleasantly cold on this midsummer's night.
"In my world, there are different races of beings. There are men, dwarves, elves, wizards, and hobbits. Hobbits are the smallest of the lot," he offered, plucking at the grass.
I was in the midst of a clover patch, threading my fingers around looking for the four-leaf I knew was hiding somewhere. "I am the shortest person I know, but I there is only at the most a two foot difference between me and the tallest person alive," I snorted, "besides, we have people who are three foot tall. Shorter than me. We call them dwarves."
"You misunderstand," he laughed, looking with me now for the clover, "your dwarves and mine are different. I am a dwarf. It is true we have men of that height in our world, but they are not dwarves, they are simply mortal men that are smaller."
"You're a dwarf? You are like five and a half feet tall!"
"The only people smaller than myself—aside from the smaller mortal men—are Hobbits."
"Then tell me oh great and intelligent Kili, what is a dwarf!"
The laugh that left him made me feel weightless. I could smile on the saddest of days if I could listen to his laugh. Almost as if he triggered it, the four-leaf clover appeared. Neither of us plucked in, but looked at each other in amusement.
"In my world, dwarves prefer mountains and caves for living. We are not suited for houses of brick or wood. We do not gain the illnesses of men. Compared to men, we live twice as long, sometimes three times. Dwarves are made for hard work, and are very talented at finding precious stones or metal in the mountains. Mining is a very common practice for dwarves, making weapons is another.
"There are very few dwarfish women unfortunately, they are a true rarity. Though they are rare, most of the time they appear as dwarfish men. It is difficult for mortals or others to tell the difference sometimes."
"Tell the difference? Dwarfish women have facial hair," I asked clearly taken aback. Kili chuckled, his fingers brushing over mine. Sometimes I couldn't tell if he touched me on accident, or on purpose. The past few meetings he did it so often it had to be on purpose. It wasn't ever anything serious, just touching my hands, sometimes my hair. He always seemed amazed with me.
Just as I was thinking about it, his hands retreated back into the grass. "Yes most of them do. I have come across some that do not. Our women are built just like the men, strong and determined. Some women shave it after they are wed, and tie their hair into the braids of their husbands. They continue that for the rest of their lives."
That was a beautiful thought. Somewhat odd, but if it was something they did traditionally it wasn't all that really odd. Kili's beard wasn't really a beard as of yet, it was mostly scruff. It must be that he's still so young that he doesn't grow it out as often.
"Tell me about Hobbits then," I whispered, placing my face in the crook of my arms, as if I were waiting for a story.
Kili scooted closer and to the left, so that he could lay on his side to face me, but play with my hair. My fingers raked the grass while his voice spoke softly and amused all the more.
"They are about your height. Small and clever, can go anywhere without being seen if they wanted. They live in holes in the ground. Not like snakes, but they make nice furnished homes in the ground of a mound or small hill. They don't wear boots or anything of the sort. Hobbits' have large feet that have very hard soles, and tuff warm hair atop. They eat all the time, enjoying a good meal and quiet peace."
"That sounds nothing like me," I muttered, slightly offended.
I watched as he pulled a piece of thread and tied off the braid he plaited into my hair. "Your feet are almost as large as mine, and I am half a foot taller than you. They are not hairy, but you do eat quite a bit. I've seen it."
With a roar I jumped up on top of him and started to playfully smack him. We rolled around amongst the tall grass and flowers, down the meadow hill near the pond. I collapsed next to him trying to regain my breath. My hair tugged, his fingers playing with the braid he had just put in my hair, it was a simple petite Dutch braid.
I watched him sigh, dropping it and rolling onto his back to stare at the night sky.
"What's wrong," I asked.
One hand descended reaching for my own at my side to grasp it and intertwine our fingers together. "When I wake, it is hard for me to remember your face," he murmurs, "it is as if I can only view you in my dreams. I forget somewhat. Though the stirring in my chest, it does not change at all. It is there when I wake, follows me through the day, and then at night into whatever dream I have.
"Though I do not wish that you would follow me into my world. I would rather follow you into yours."
The admission did not take me by surprise, because in my dream, of course the tall, dark, and handsome dwarf would have 'a stirring in his chest' when he thinks of me.
"Honestly from what you tell me, your world sounds better than mine. You have more freedom, magic, adventures, and you have dragons," I murmured.
Suddenly he was sitting up and dragging me with him. The dream was all the more lucid as he pulled me into his lap. The butterflies in my stomach awoke, dancing and fluttering about causing goosebumps to erupt across my flesh. "Here I do not get to decide my own fate," he whispered earnestly, holding both my hands in one of his own. The other was wrapped around me holding me astride his legs.
"My uncle is a king of Durin. He will be the rightful king of the Lonely Mountain. He did not have any sons of his own, so my brother and I are his only heirs. Dwarves do not believe in giving someone of a different race their babes, especially royalty. Since there are few dwarfish women, one will be chosen for my brother and I to share. This life that is chosen for me is not one of freedom, nor is it one that I agree with," he answered, never breaking eye contact.
"In your world," he murmured, "there is little that anyone can do about my choices, except you."
It was all too much. Even if it wasn't real, the dream was too much for me to handle. I always promised myself that I would not succumb to the silly ideal of love. All I needed in my life was to keep myself breathing and move along minding my own business. Stupidly I granted myself dreams, just because they weren't real. From what I was starting to see is that my feelings were.
I saw how it tortured my mom since I was little. My father died trying to rescue someone from a burning building, and my mother has been a shell ever since. To love so deeply and lose yourself, I did not want that to be me.
Here I am, doing it in my dreams of all places.
As quick as I could I jumped from his grip and stumbled up the hill as fast as I could. The cold grass seemed like razorblades against my feet.
"Laurel! Please! This may be the last time I will see you," he called after me.
The last time I will see him? So much for having perfect dreams. My body turned, finding that he came right up behind me, hands outstretched to hold my own. "Please," he whispered, grasping them and pulling me closer, "I am afraid this will be the last time I can look upon your face."
"Why?"
"When I wake," he pulled me closer so that we were almost chest to chest, "I will be following my uncle and kin to the Lonely Mountain, to face Smaug and take back our home. This dragon is not one that you would like, I promise. He would burn anyone alive if they dared disturb his rest or steal his treasure. It has been so long since I last saw you I am afraid something will happen and I will not be alive to dream of you again."
My heart clenched, I tried not to meet his eyes.
"This is my dream," I muttered, "it's just my imagination. You are going on a quest never to return so that I can move on with my life."
Large warm hands left my own, gripping at my waist instead, rubbing up and down.
"If that is true," he murmured into my ear, "then why do you run? If it is all just your dream, and this is the last you will see of me, why will you not let me hold you? Tell you how much I will miss you when I wake? How I always miss you when I wake?"
I finally looked into his eyes, defying my own rules. They were brown, deep with emotion and bright with hope. Our talks never strayed from anything other than the differences in our worlds, or when something interesting happened. He would dream about my life and then ask questions about what he saw, and even then I would return the favor when I saw something I didn't understand. Of course I knew that the feelings I harbored for this man were strong, so strong that I thought about them all the time. I would day dream that he were real, though we would share his world and live peacefully together.
Here now in this dream, I felt the need in his eyes, the pain and the fear all the same.
Fuck it.
Without thinking anymore on it, I threw myself into him, pressing my lips to his in earnest. The only kiss I ever had was when I was seventeen, and someone took me to prom. He kissed me chastely at the door afterwards.
This was something else altogether. The ache in my chest exploded, threatening to seep out of every pour in my body. All tenseness left, only able to be up straight without falling because Kili was holding me so tightly. His lips slanted over mine just as eagerly, hot and velvety against my own. The heat of his breath sent shivers down my spine. My hands found his hair, weaving into the locks and grasping to pull himself closer to me. A moan escaped my lips.
Just as I was about to knock him down and throw caution to the wind, the world shook.
"No," I moaned out hoarsely in disappointment rather than pleasure, "not yet!"
Kili gasped, holding onto me closely as it shook again. "It's time to wake."
"I won't ever see you again," I started to tear, "this is it."
Our lips met again softly, as a final goodbye, "Fear not Laurel, and remember me fondly, as I will remember you."
Before my eyes he started to fade into nothing.
A gasp tore through me as I shot up from my bedding. A quick sweep around my room told me it was still only a dream, like it always was. Before a breath came to me, a heart wrenching sob did.
As every time I dreamed of my dwarf I woke broken hearted. Why did I keep doing this to myself? It was nonsense. Falling in love with a figment of my imagination, crying over it every other day. Get a grip Laurel! You simply cannot fall in love with someone who does not exist!
The rest of my week was spent trying to remain awake, forbidding myself from sleeping. Everything I could do to not sleep, I even researched ways to not dream. I grew accustom to staying awake over the years. The most I had gone without an ounce of sleep was four days. This time I dozed in and out, limiting myself only a half hour of napping twice a day. It was harder to dream when you were not asleep long enough.
On the fourth day without actual sleep I crawled out of bed, determined to go for a walk along the beach to try and clear my head. The cold would wake me better. Even for November, I would not be eager to walk around outside in just a mere sweater. Though that was what I was going to do. The closest beach was thirty minutes away by driving.
It was only six in the afternoon and gray skies told a tale of sadness. As if they knew the ache that settled deep in my heart and soul. When I arrived and got out of my truck, the wind blew my mahogany hair about, making me draw the hood up and string it partially closed.
As I walked I thought of my mother. She found my father at a state park, where he worked as a ranger. Mom was visiting there for a school project, looking at all the different trees and sampling leaves. They each shared a love of nature, and over time they shared a love for each other. Father was a righteous man from what I remember, which isn't much. Mom tells me all the time about how he was loyal and wouldn't lie to anyone about anything. He helped out whoever whenever he could, always a hard worker and a fierce leader.
She spoke of the passion and the intimacy of their lives, how she could completely just live and breathe as herself and he loved every part of her. The way she talked, made me want to fall in love like that. Unconditional love. Sadly she loved him more than life itself it seems. After his passing when I was five, my mother rarely left her room, leaving me in the hands of her mother until I was thirteen.
Grandmother taught me much about gardening and plants. I've learned what berries I could eat and what plants were poisonous by looking at them or smelling them. Some plants could mask my scent, which turned out great for hunting, and other plants would aid someone to sleep almost instantly when digested. All of the knowledge she gave me helped me live and keep my mom in a decent state of mind.
Finally when I was eighteen mom went to stay with Grandmother so that I could live my life without taking care of her. Mom almost turned into a child as it were.
For all this, I did not want to fall in love; just because there was a chance that would happen to me.
Rain started to fall, ice cold against my jeans and soaking into my skin. The light drizzle turned into a heavy pleating. Thunder clapped harshly next, lightning brightening the sky over the lake.
Not wanting to get struck by lightning on the beach, I turned and started to run back to my truck.
The wind picked up to a high speed, almost knocking me backwards. With the rain falling so heavily and the air pushing it which way and that, I was could barely see. A crack of thunder collapsed the sky around me, feeling the wave of it right to my heart. Lightning struck just mere feet ahead of me, and in effort to fall backwards to not be electrified, the turbulent wind pushed me forward and into the blinding white light.