In-Between
Summary: A collection of little moments in the life of Tauriel and Kíli from the time they leave everything behind after the battle. There will be kids, old friends and new faces along the way… and the War of the Ring is approaching.
If you are interested, I started a new story where I will collect those little one-shots that are missing from this story, or those that are taking place before this one. Give it a chance if you feel like…
Sorry for the mistakes!
After tending to his horse, Aragorn left the barn to smoke a little before looking for Angion. The boy had asked him to check out the sword he was making. A sword which, Kíli had already told him proudly, was a masterpiece.
He'd already pulled out his pipe when his eyes fell on Mirel, who was sitting under the cart, hidden from the others' sight. Something was wrong, he thought with a concerned frown. After he first arrived, it quickly turned out that the shy little girl who was hiding behind his father wasn't all that shy after all. She was a lively little girl endowed with the cheerful nature of her father… and his recklessness, too.
So seeing her sitting all alone away from the others, worried the man.
He walked up to her and settled down by the cart, leaning against a wheel. He stuffed and lit his pipe without a word and only when it seemed that Mirel wasn't overly annoyed by his presence, did he speak up.
"What bothers you, little star?" he asked and waited patiently for an answer.
"I'm not like Dís or Thoriel," she told him in a pitiful voice.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"They are pretty… like Nana."
"You think you are not pretty?"
"Yes," Mirel sighed.
"Come here," he invited her to sit next to him. He watched the little girl clamber out from under the cart. "Let me tell you that you are absolutely gorgeous," Aragorn pinched her nose that earned him a self-conscious giggle from the little girl. "You don't believe me? Pretty has a lot of forms, you know."
"I'm pretty sure my ears are not one of them."
"Who said that?" Aragorn was sincerely taken aback.
"The boys in town. They are making fun of them. They are huge… like Adad's."
"Your Naneth likes his ears. I know," he leant in closer. "I heard her say that," he shared in a whisper before pulling the girl into a half-hug. "One day you will meet a boy who loves your big ears. Maybe he will have big ears, too."
"Like Fíli. His ears are huge."
"Like Fíli." Aragorn nodded with a smile. "Until then, don't pay attention to anybody who says you are not pretty. You are. You look more like your Naneth than you'd think."
Kíli decided that it was time to take a break from cleaning the barn, and after dumping a shovel of dung, he went to clean himself up somewhat. As he was drying his face, he took his time to watch his daughters, who were merrily chatting on the porch, their hands busy with something he couldn't make out.
It was such a rare sight, the three of them together sitting peacefully. Usually Thoriel and Mirel always got something to do and no time for… mending clothes, Kíli realized with a surprised chuckle. He wondered how Dís could have persuaded her sisters to join her. He wasn't even sure that his two youngest girls could do any needlework.
He walked up to them and plopped down in an empty chair next to Dís, wearing a huge grin.
"You smell," his daughter pointed out with a disapproving look. And not for the first time, he wandered how much his oldest daughter looked like her mother in bearing if nothing else. She had Tauriel's pale skin but where Tauriel was vibrant with colors, she had his darker countenance.
"I know," he declared, disregarding the look. "What are you doing?"
"I have no idea," Mirel admitted defeat as she threw the shirt into her lap.
"She has no patience for it," Thoriel smiled.
"And you have no patience for me," Mirel shot back, though she didn't sound much offended. Kíli smiled. It was always interesting to observe his youngest daughters. They were so much alike and yet, so very different. Thoriel was her mother's daughter through and through. The only thing she got from him was the dark brown of her eyes. She was a typical Elf in every other respect… at least as much as her mother was one. She was less composed as her older sister and she liked to run free just like her younger one. She was reckless like her parents but if need be, she had the infinite patience of Elves.
Not like Mirel. She had the mindset of Dwarves, though not the built. Even though she was short like Dís, she was lean. She was quick to do anything, though she had not the patience for most of the things… like sewing.
"Come here, little star," Kíli motioned for her and took the needle and the shirt when offered by a hesitant Mirel.
"You know how to do this?" Dís asked in disbelief that was mirrored on Thoriel's face.
"Of course I do," Kíli scoffed. "Who do you think mended my clothes when I was on the road with the Dwarves from Ered Lúin?"
"All these years, and you let Nana and Dís mend your clothes," Thoriel remarked bemused.
"They never complained," he grinned.
"Well, from now on, you are mending your own clothes," Dís laughed.
Well, damn.
Tauriel watched her younger son with pride. He looked so much like his uncle… so much like a Durin. But with the softer lines of an elven heritage. His broad shoulders were flexing with exertion as he was working by the anvil.
Many a time Legolas' words regarding her son returned to her: an Elf-sized Dwarf. How accurate he was! Despite his built, he was a Dwarf at heart.
He was passionate about his work. Tauriel wondered whether fire itself was flowing in his veins. That fire was showing in everything he did.
He was quick of temper and stubborn in his ways. But he had an open heart, always ready to trust but never to forget. He loved and hated in equal measure.
He was so much like his father.
Like Fíli, too, in many ways. But while Angion's passion burnt fiercely, Fíli was patient and level-headed.
He was special, she smiled, turning her attention to her other son, silently sitting in the corner of Angion's working area, his attention focused on a piece of wood in his hands.
Whenever she looked at her eldest son, her chest tightened with love. After losing two children, Fíli was surrounded with loving care. Sometimes Tauriel feared that they were smothering him but Fíli grew up to be strong in body and spirit as well.
When his leg was crushed, his spirit thrived. There weren't many things that would throw him off balance. He never despaired and never raged in anger. He firmly believed that there was always a way to overcome the difficulties no matter what they might be.
Angion cooled the metal and called for his brother to take a look. They were always like that. Despite their differences, they always looked to the other for advice or help. They made each other stronger.
Yes, Tauriel was proud. Her beautiful sons were strong and wise.
She just feared that this wasn't the life for them to truly thrive.
"What are you ladies talking about?" Legolas walked up to Dís and Thoriel who were sitting in the grass, Thoriel braiding her sister's hair.
"Nothing," they quipped in unison, trying to look innocent but their hardly contained giggling giving them away.
"Well," Legolas chuckled bemused. They were acting unusually… girly today. "If it was indeed nothing, Dís would surely not be blushing so ferociously." Legolas was sure that the girl was currently cursing her pale skin. He knew how Tauriel hated it. "Plus, you came an awfully long distance to braid your hair," he pointed out.
"It's all about the view, Uncle," Thoriel supplied with an impish grin.
For a moment the Elf looked confused. Surely, there were plenty of beautiful places around the house for the girls to lounge but when he turned around to take in his surrounding, trying to determine what was so special about it, it suddenly downed on him.
He let out an embarrassed chuckle, turning back to the girls.
"The view, I see," he cleared his throat. "I will leave you two, then, to admire… the view." And with that he left the girls to gawk unashamedly a group of town-men – half-naked and well-endowed town-men from the looks of it – who were cutting the trees further down the hill.
Thoriel looked at the twin swords in wonder.
"Go on," Legolas smiled at her. "They will not burn you."
The young woman reached for the blades, hesitating just a little before grabbing them in a sure grip and swirling them, learning their balance. They were perfect.
"They're perfect," she smiled then turned hesitant eyes on her uncle. "But…"
"You lost your sword to protect me. That is the least I can offer in return."
"You didn't have to."
"I know. But I was in Imladris and it seemed the perfect opportunity. I know you like when both of your hands are full," he smiled. He knew that while her brothers both preferred the heavy swords of the Dwarfs, Thoriel liked the slender design of elven swords. And, like her mother, she liked to have a weapon in both of her hands. "And there are not many smiths in Middle Earth who can forge such blades."
"Thank you so much."
"Now, you have to get used to them," Legolas cautioned. "They are not your average swords."
"Don't worry, Uncle. Practice is half the fun," she grinned, giving Legolas a peck on his cheek before running off. "Come on, Angion. I want to kick your ass."
Legolas smiled. She was her mother's daughter all right.
Tauriel watched on in amusement as her baby girl, after a surprisingly apt maneuver, tripped her father and stood above him with a triumphant look.
"Look at the little bugger," Dís scoffed good-naturedly next to her while mending a shirt. "She's getting real good with those things."
"That she is," Tauriel agreed. It seemed so strange – such a little girl with those axes. But, in spite of her small and slender stature – and really, in spite of her young years – she was wielding them with such expertise that made Kíli work for his money. And indeed, he was working up quite a sweat.
"You saw that, Naneth," Mirel called to her with a proud grin. "I kicked Adad's ass."
"Hey," Kíli protested, getting up from the ground. "Watch your language, young lady."
Dís snickered.
"That you did, love," Tauriel agreed, noting the proud look in Kíli's eyes.
"You look just like you did the day I first met you," Kíli told his wife, pushing a strand of red hair behind her ears.
"I am surely not," Tauriel smiled at him lovingly. Kíli always knew how to flatter her. "That was a long time ago."
"Aye, it was," he agreed, running a finger over the lines in the corner of her eye. He liked to think that they got there because she laughed a lot. Just like he liked to think that the strands of grey in his hair were because of his children. "But you're just as beautiful. And even more so," his finger found the scar on her neck that got there during a particularly nasty run-in with a pack of Orcs.
Tauriel kissed him. "You are no less handsome yourself."
Life was good, Kíli decided as he was sitting on the porch in the company of his wife and closest friends, puffing on his pipe contentedly.
It was a pleasant night with the starts twinkling merrily in the clear sky.
He looked around his family, because against all intends and purposes they were just that, through the thick smoke that gathered from the pipes they were all smoking… well, except for Legolas.
It was a strange sight, he imagined, a Dwarf sitting in the company of a Man and four Elves. And his kids weren't even there!
They went into town earlier to have some fun while the more "responsible" part of the family decided to settle down for a peaceful night.
After dinner, they gathered on the porch and the pipes quickly appeared one after the other. Elladan and Elrohir were arguing for a while about the best way to stuff a pipe while he and Aragorn just smiled from behind their already burning ones. Elves!
Legolas was still refraining from trying it – though one of these days Kíli would stick a pipe into his princely mouth. By Mahal, the twins were not such wussies about it. And while Tauriel didn't have one, either, she was content with stealing Kíli's from time to time, blowing such perfect circles from it that would put a Dwarf to shame.
Life was strange. But that was his life. And in moments like this, he wished that his brother would be there to share it with him.
Tauriel stood frozen to the spot. There was a piece of paper in her hand while others lay scattered on the desk. She just wanted to make some room on the table so she moved Dís' sketches a little when her eyes fell on something.
"Nana?" Dís appeared behind her and Tauriel jumped, feeling being caught. It was a strange feeling. Her daughter had been drawing ever since her tiny hand could grab a piece of coal and she'd never been particularly secretive about her art, either. And yet, now she felt she had invaded on her privacy. "Oh," Dís breathed when she saw what her mother had in her hands.
"I am sorry," Tauriel found herself stammering as she dropped the drawing. "I did not mean to…"
"That's all right, Nana."
"No, it is not. These drawings are private and I…"
"Are you serious?" she let out a disbelieving chuckle. "I'm living with a bunch of Dwarves. Privacy is not their strongest suits. You did nothing to apologize for. As a matter of fact…" she trailed off, suddenly seeming uncertain. "I was meaning to show you this," she picked up the drawing Tauriel had just dropped. "Is this possible?"
Tauriel's eyes were wide as her hand flew to her belly. She felt it, of course, the flutter of life in her womb but it felt so surreal. Her youngest child was almost thirty. She and Kíli hadn't talked about children in a long time… And yet… On the picture there she was heavily pregnant, laughing at the antics of Mirel and Angion. But that begged another question.
"You have the gift of foresight," she looked at her daughter stunned.
"You lost them again?" Dís looked at Angion in disbelief, Mirel snickering next to her. The large man managed to look lost and sheepish at the same time. "We just stepped out for a second."
"Don't give me that look. Those little rascals are worse than Mirel."
"Hey," the girl protested.
"They are, too. And I swear they have the ability to disappear into thin air. Those little demons…"
"Someone lost two little balrogs again?" Fíli appeared in the door, herding two red-headed toddlers in front of him. The twins, Dóra and Doran hadn't turned four yet but they were causing quite a headache for parents and siblings alike. If Kíli and Tauriel thought that they had their hands full with their three youngest children while they were growing up, the two Dwarf-sized Elves were seriously making them reconsider.
"Please, don't tell Nana," Angion pleaded.
"Don't tell Nana what?" Kíli joined the children together with Thoriel as they came back from shooting practice.
"I think they lost the twins again," Thoriel observed bemused at which a chorus of "wasn't me" broke out, only Angion remaining suspiciously silent. "Or Angion lost them," she concluded.
"Lost?" Kíli looked at the little girl and boy with pretended shock. "But they are standing right here." He discarded his bow and lifted Dóra and Doran into his arms when they ran to him. "Nothing to tell, right?" He was so whipped. "Look at them," Kíli squeezed the toddlers affectionately. "It was such a long time ago that you all were this tiny."
"Angion was never that tiny," Dís snickered.
Kíli groaned as Legolas pulled the large and very much dead Orc off of him. They could hear Tauriel curse as she pulled her dagger from another's head.
"They are getting bold." She turned to them.
"Dark clouds are gathering," Legolas agreed. "There is a growing disquiet in the White Council."
"Sauron is getting stronger, isn't he?" Kíli asked even though he knew the answer. It was difficult not to – foul things were crawling out from under the earth.
"I am afraid we are heading towards a war," Legolas said as an answer. "Dark forces are awakening. There are rumors about Sauron searching for the One Ring."
"But he can't possibly find it, right?" Kíli's eyes widened. "I mean it's lost… like no-living-soul-knows-where-it-is lost."
"We can only hope so."
"In any case, we have an imminent problem on our hands," Tauriel spoke up. "We should check the area for more Orcs, then we have to warn the Rangers. This is way too into the West for Orcs to venture. Way too close to the Shire."
"I was never meant to be the king," Kíli said in a low voice as Tauriel stopped next to him. It was already dark and the clear, star-lit sky promised a cold night.
Earlier that day, Elladan and Elrohir arrived bearing grave news: Dain Ironfoot had been slain along with his kin. Erebor and the dwarven kingdom was in disarray. There was a war coming and the North stood defenseless.
"But by right, you are. King under the Mountain."
"That would make you the Queen under the Mountain." At that Tauriel's eyes darkened somewhat which didn't escape Kíli's attention. He sighed. "But that you are not. You don't belong in the darkness. And I'd never lock you there."
"Don't think about me," she reached for his hand. "I would follow you to the midst of Mordor if that is where your journey takes you. But think about your children." That made Kíli's expression contemplative. "Fíli's eyes are always on the East," she smiled sadly. "And Angion, you know very well that our son is of iron. Maybe it is time they meet their people. And those people need you… maybe they need all of you."
Kíli closed his eyes. His wife was right, of course. Not all of their children took after their mother. Not all of them strived under the sun and the night sky. They were happy, he knew that. He wouldn't have it any other way. But he would be a fool to think that they'd found their place in this world. Maybe this was the way to help them… to bring them home.
Even if it cost him dearly.
"Then off to the Lonely Mountain we go. We have a kingdom to reclaim." After all he was Durin's heir. Nobody would contest that. And he had avoided his fate long enough. It was time to face his responsibilities.
"That we have." They shared an uneasy smile.
"We are going on an adventure," he said but this time, unlike all those years ago, his voice was filled with apprehension, not excitement.
So, the War is finally here and both Kíli and Tauriel are sucked into it. As for the timeline, Gimli went to Rivendell because Sauron was asking around in Erebor about the Hobbits and he ended up going with Frodo and Co. to destroy the Ring. Dain is killed during that time when Gimli was away and the news about his fall reached Rivendell only after the departure of the Fellowship. Elladan and Elrohir knew that, with a war approaching, a kingdom in the North falling to disarray would be disastrous. Fortunately, they knew where to find the one person who had a legitimate claim to the throne.
So, next chapter, Kíli and family on the road!
Thanks for reading!