Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. JRR Tolkien's estate, New Line Cinema, and I'm sure a lot more people who have way more money than I do own them and I'm just playing a bit. No infringement is intended or implied. And I promise to put them back when I'm finished with them. :)
Author's Note: If you know me, you know I'm a sucker for romance. Hopefully this one suits!
Dedicated to my darling Amy. "Don't say we have come now to the end. White shores are calling. You and I will meet again."
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Part Three
It was a problem for the Men, Fíli told himself sternly. He had no place in it. It didn't matter that the slavers had tried to kill him, too. He would have been collateral damage. It was all meant as a strike at Bard, and as such, Bard's responsibility. Fíli would bow out gracefully and return to Erebor, to find out what Thorin had done with the Dwarven conspirators.
But not before he had seen Nialla again.
He had to see if she had regained that spark, the fire that drew him like a moth to a flame.
He was ushered into her room and had to duck as a piece of crockery flew at his head. Yes, she'd regained her spirit. What had he done to draw her ire?
"I am not going to stay here any longer!" she railed. "Oh." Her voice went still and soft when she realized who she was throwing things at. "Sorry. I meant that for the healers."
"I'm sure." He drew near and noticed that her eyes followed his movements. "You're better." He settled into a chair at the foot of her bed and watched her.
"I should say thank you," Nialla said bluntly. "I was simply awful to you and you were just trying to help."
"It's understandable." Now that he was here, he couldn't think what to say to her. If she'd been anyone else, he'd have been able to flirt and flatter, but she was a King's daughter and as such, completely out of reach for what he wanted, which at this point was a quick tumble. Still, she was attractive to him for that fire he saw in her. "But you need to learn how to fight. Biting me – that wasn't at all nice."
"Nice? You wanted me to be NICE?" she began angrily. "For all I knew, you were one of them, come to either beat me again or worse. I wasn't about to be NICE."
He grabbed at his temper with both hands. She'd been through an ordeal, he reminded himself firmly. She was understandably distraught. "At least you could have stopped kicking when I tried to soothe you!" he tried again, his voice deceptively even. "I've bruises on my bruises."
"Serves you right," she growled back. "You could have talked to me BEFORE you grabbed me. I panicked."
"I DID talk to you!" he snarled back. This wasn't going well at all. That spark, that spirit, was going to be difficult at best for anyone to try to tame and he was suddenly certain he didn't want to try. "You weren't listening!"
"You arrogant, insufferable – you – you Dwarf!" she snapped. "You came SWAGGERING in here and expect me to swoon at your feet, I suppose, for saving the day. Well you can think again!"
"And you are nothing more than a spoiled brat who is angry because she's been denied her way." Fíli's voice had gone dangerously soft. "I came to say goodbye, since I was leaving for home. For some reason, I felt you might care." He rose and gave her a proper bow. "I'm sure we won't meet again." Not if he could help it.
"I'm sorry." She sounded truly contrite and he hesitated in the doorway. "Fíli... thank you. And I do mean that."
She knew his name. The way she said it, the way it fell from her lips, Mahal, he was in trouble. In one moment, with one word, he'd gone from anger to regret. And possibly something else he didn't WANT to identify, not yet. Fire, she was fire, that was all he could think.
He turned to face her and she looked absolutely wretched. He sighed before dropping back into the chair. "I'm sorry, too." He had to take that look from her face. "Why don't you tell me how you regained your sight?" Conversation, that was it. Maybe it would soothe both of their tempers. Unlikely, but he would at least try.
"Oh." She had the grace to look embarrassed. "The, um, the embers. They burned my face but not my eyes. All there was wrong with them was some ash stuck under the lids, the healers say. No lasting damage. Apparently I'll be completely recovered in a few days."
"Good." Ashes. Her eyes were like ash, grey and yet clear, and oh, MAHAL, they drew him. He needed to leave, and now. Before he did something they would both regret. She wasn't for a casual dalliance, he reminded himself firmly. And if he touched her, Bard would have his head and Thorin would kill what was left. No, he needed to go. NOW. "Nialla... I really do have to return home."
"Will I see you again?" Her voice was soft, but the words were genuine. She wanted him to come back. The thought beat in time with his heartbeat. She wanted him to come back. And he didn't dare, not feeling like this.
"I'm sure of it." He gave her a smile before turning to go. But he didn't make it to the doorway before he felt her hand on his arm and stopped still, not daring to turn and look at her again. She'd actually gotten out of bed to try and keep him from leaving. He'd seen her hurts, and while they weren't life threatening, they had to be painful. There was strength in that slight frame, strength as well as fire, and she was TOUCHING him.
She turned his face back without much resistance and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she said simply.
He raised his fingers to her face, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin of her cheek. "You're welcome," he said softly. Then he forced himself to leave.