Tauriel liked watching Kíli shave. It was an interesting ritual, one she had never seen performed before she had married him. He bathed his face in hot water, and then with a brush, methodically spread lather from chin to ear and all the way down his throat to his collarbone. Finally with the aid of a comb, he trimmed all his beard to an even length with strokes from a very long, very sharp razor. And he did it all so fast, with swift, expert movements that bespoke years of practice. Truly it was mesmerizing.
"Kíli," she said this morning as he flicked open his razor. "They say that if you cut off a dwarf's beard, he can die of shame."
"Oh?" He turned aside to look at her, the beginning of a smile drawing at his mouth.
She shifted in her bath, crossing her arms on the rim of the marble tub and propping her chin atop them. "Is it true? Or is that just a story for rustic elf maids who have never left their forest?"
He finished a razor stroke before letting his face relax into a grin. "You're thinking that if it's true, I must be the most shameless dwarf in Arda."
"Oh, I know you're shameless. We'd barely just met, and you were inviting me to search your trousers."
Kíli laughed. "Right." He paused for a moment, trimming over a cheekbone. "Well, my beard, at any rate, is still entirely honorable. It's not in the Old Kingdom fashion—that was the last Durin's reign, when beards were very long—but nowadays short beards are common enough. There's obviously no question that I can grow one, and that's what matters." He smirked at her as he swished lather from the razor. "It's short, but it has excellent coverage."
"Indeed," Tauriel said. Kíli's cheeks and neck were shaded with dark stubble that clearly promised a full dwarven beard. "Besides, speaking of coverage—" Tauriel's eyes dropped from his face, following the curls of hair swirling from collarbone to pectoral and plunging in a dark line to his navel. "You have plenty of hair everywhere else."
"Mm-hm. Most who aren't dwarves usually assume it's only about the facial hair. But it's definitely not." He winked at her—it was no secret she had been delighted by his furry skin from the first—and resumed his shaving.
"I see." Tauriel laughed softly. "A handsome shaggy chest makes up for a trimmed face. Is that why you never button your shirt collars?"
"Nah." He chuckled. "Well, only a little."
Tauriel splashed her feet in the water. "So, is it true or not about shaving a dwarf's beard?"
"Oh, absolutely true." He paused for a few moments, intent on trimming his upper lip. "I take my life in my hands each time I shave."
She giggled against her arms. "I don't believe you."
"Don't you see? This stubble proves how brave I am. Most dwarves don't have the courage to trim their beards so short. No margin for error, you know. Take off just a quarter of an inch more, and—phtt!—you're dead."
"Kíli!"
He shot her an amused glance in the mirror as he flicked the razor once, twice up his throat. Then he set it aside and splashed his face in the basin. After toweling face and neck, he came to Tauriel at the edge of the tub. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him, her chin against his middle.
He put his hands about her face. "Yes, the story is true, as far as it goes. Mind you, it's not the actual shaving that can kill a dwarf. But you know how stubborn we are. A dwarf who has been deeply disgraced can break his heart and die."
"I see." She could believe this, having seen how Kíli himself had suffered a bodily change from his heartbreak over nearly losing her.
"But it's not common, either. Can you imagine even trying to shave a dwarf against his will? You'd be lucky if you lived to tell the tale."
She kissed him, nuzzling against the flat of his belly while her hands crept up his muscular back. Rough hair scrubbed her cheek, though his skin was smooth beneath her palms.
"Come up here to kiss me, lass," he said, the words rumbling sweetly through her.
Tauriel obeyed, rising up on her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck. He smelled of shaving soap, and his stubble pricked her lips.
"I'll tell you a secret," Kíli murmured at her ear. "When it comes to a dwarf's beard, the only opinion that really matters is that of his wife."
"Well then." She stroked his scratchy cheek. "I think you're perfect."
Author's note:
I'm so glad to be able to add on to this collection again! I hadn't forgotten about it, because I've definitely had ideas for more scenes, but none of them were coming together into complete vignettes.
For this chapter, I imagine they're in the Elvenking's palace on their way to Rivendell.
This scene gives more of my head canon about Kíli's beard and his looks in general. His short beard isn't considered ugly—if anything, it's a young and trendy style. And even though long beards are still the most traditional standard for dwarven beauty, Kíli still has plenty of other assets to draw a girl's eye. :D He's definitely considered a good-looking dwarf. He and Varric Tethras (my other favorite dwarf) are definitely of the same school of "it's not the beard but the chest hair that counts" hot dwarves. *fans self* Anyway...
In The History of Middle-earth XI: The War of the Jewels, Tolkien writes, "[Dwarves'] beards were long. Indeed this strangeness they have that no Man or Elf has ever seen a beardless Dwarf—unless he were shaven in mockery, and would then be more like to die of shame than of many other hurts that to us would seem more deadly" (p. 205). I had a good laugh when I read that because it must mean Kíli is completely shameless. Anyway, this story is my take on Tolkien's idea in the AU of my fan fic.
Can anybody spot Kíli's line that's an homage to the Poldark books? ;) I'll give you a hint: Ross says it once, though he's quoting another character when he does.
