A/N: Once again thanks to all who have read, reviewed, followed and favored.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Middle Earth and I make no profit save ego-stroking.
Chapter 3: Set-Up and Fall
There actually are some toys to be placed on shelves and I go to work arranging them. I watch the front while Bifur and Bofur stay busy in their workroom. The little shop is quiet save the occasional string of Khuzdul and a few hearty laughs. Unfortunately for my friends, even though it is market day, the shop is never busy.
After a long while, a lassie steps in. I know her. She's younger than Fili by a couple of years, but older than I. Her name's Erda and she has a brother, Einar. They had sometimes played with us when we were little dwarflings. I remember playing dwarrows and dragons with Erda once. She had hidden behind a tree but her braids stuck out from behind the trunk. She'd pouted and stomped her foot when I found her tagging her as the next dragon.
I haven't seen her in years but there is no mistaking that light brown hair with the glints of auburn. Today she wears it with a plait coming from either side to meet and form a third braid down her back and small silver beads adorn two little beard braids. Her eyes are still the color of bright emeralds and her cheeks are light pink.
I had liked her when we were younger and seeing her now brings back fond memories of playing in the fields of Ered Luin. As we had grown over the years, between lessons with Mr. Balin and training with Mr. Dwalin, Fili and I spent most of our spare time together instead of with our other playmates. Seeing Erda now it strikes me that I might want to reacquaint myself with her. If Thorin will be demanding more of Fili's time, then I might need some other friends.
As acting representative for the store, I approach.
"Kili, at your service," I bow smiling
Erna stares, surprised to find me there, as if I were the last dwarf she expected to see. The silence, however. lasts only briefly as she composes herself and replies, "Erda, at yours."
"Looking for something special today?" I grin.
"Ah..a..yes," she stammers still a bit unsure. "I need a naming day present for a ten year old dwarfling, my cousin."
She couldn't have come to a better place. I remember hours spent playing with Bofur's wonderful toys, which obviously makes me an expert. I glance around, quickly spying several different examples, suitable for her cousin, and begin to show them to her. I see Bofur look on from the doorway nodding his approval as we move from one selection to the next while I explain the appeal and benefits of each piece.
Finally Erda decides on a set of dwarvish fighting figures which I assure her is an excellent choice. Bofur ambles over to finish the transaction and then I walk her to the door.
"I hope your cousin enjoys it," I offer. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Erda pauses looking back, "Maybe," she returns flatly as she leaves.
Turning back I meet Bofur's grin. "Well done, laddie... Think ya might fancy her a bit?" Bofur teases.
"What?" I ask not really understanding his question. Then it hits me and I realize what Bofur's implying even though I don't understand why he would think that. I was just being friendly and trying to sell something. "Nah," I manage, ducking my head and looking to the floor a little embarrassed at his insinuation.
Bofur chuckles, nudging me with his elbow, then goes back to work leaving me to ponder what just happened.
Shortly the toymaker returns wiping his hands. "Well, we finally got that part finished, thanks to you. I hear Bombur's got some fresh apple tarts today." Bofur flips me a coin, "Go enjoy yourself."
"Thanks, Mr. Bofur," I grin. Having skipped breakfast, not counting the one bite of cheese and biscuit, my stomach is starting to rumble. One of Bombur's excellent pies will be more than welcome and I hurry to get one before they are all gone.
Not long after I'm perched on a railing enjoying a bit of shade and my treat. Bombur is an excellent cook, as evidenced by his sizable girth; and his apple tarts are one of my favorites. I take another bite, the warm juice running down my chin. I swipe my arm across my face, for once relieved that, although I'm well past the age for having a beard, my face is smooth with only the barest hint of stubble. So I don't have to worry about a sticky beard like Fili would.
Sighing, I reflect that the day is turning out better than I imagined. Even if my brother is gone with Uncle Thorin, I'm having fun. My stomach has stopped rumbling and I'm looking forward to the afternoon hoping that Fili will be home soon.
Then from around the corner I hear giggling followed by a voice that I recognize as belonging to Erda.
"...I think he was flirting with me," she laughs.
Suddenly I sit up paying closer attention. Did she say 'flirting'? No, I wasn't flirting. I was just being friendly. Then I remember Bofur's comment. No, this isn't...my thought is interrupted by another voice.
"Oh, no...Not Kili," she laughs. "He's so...so...," she falters searching for the right word.
"Ugly?" a third voice offers. Now they are all laughing.
For the second time today I think I might choke on my food. I feel my face flush crimson while all I can do is pray to Mahal that they just keep walking and not look down the side street where I sit. My mind screams for me to run, but I am frozen in place, knowing I don't want to hear any more they have to say, yet perversely drawn to their words.
"He's too thin."..."His nose is too small"..."Can't even grow a beard." Their words seem to run on top of each other as they take turns listing my physical faults.
I've heard all these things before...for years, usually from the lads, and mostly when I was younger. In fact, there had been many days I had come home bruised and bloody from defending my honor. Sometimes Fili had gotten involved since he was always trying to protect me. He still is. But now, hearing those same slurs from the lasses aches in an entirely different way.
I chance a quick glance towards the voices. None of them seem to be looking in my direction; but they are just standing at the cross-paths. Why can't they just keep walking? Oh, Mahal, please.
"His bones are too delicate for a dwarf...more like an elf." They start up again.
"I bet that's why he doesn't braid his hair- to cover up his pointy elf-ears," Erda smirks.
"He uses a bow instead of an axe or sword. That's not even a dwarvish weapon."
That's not true. I do use a sword. I've spent hours training with Mr. Dwalin and I've had the bruises to prove it. I just prefer my bow, and I'm good with it. I've proven that over many harsh Ered Luin winters when my kills kept us from starving.
"My adad says he's probably elf-spawn." The lasses are no longer laughing and their words have a cold and cruel edge.
"Well, he better just go to the elves if he's looking for his chosen," Erda declares. " 'cause no respectable dwarrowdam will ever choose him."
Her declaration cuts like a knife, shoved into my gut then twisted. The fierceness of all their words makes me sick; my heart races and I struggle to breathe, the air around me feeling thick. I know I should leave now. I can't afford to stay and hear anymore, but my feet are still rooted in place. I stare at the ground no longer daring to look their way.
"My adad says Prince Thorin should have never let him draw breath."
"Good thing Fili is Prince Thorin's heir. No dwarf would ever follow that elf-spawn"
My head whips around at that final assertion, just as Erda glances down the street where I stand. Our eyes lock for the briefest of seconds before I tear my gaze away. My paralysis finally broken, I drop the unfinished apple tart and flee, running blindly. I can hardly see through the tears that now flow freely. All the way home I imagine that I hear their laughter and slurs following me.
A/N: What sweet little dwarf girls. So, this was originally 2 short chapters, but I wanted to get past setting the stage and into the meat of the story. Hope you enjoy and let me know with your reviews.