Chapter IV

Written for the Secret Lesbians Kiliel Week Day 7 Anything you want!

Secret Lesbians Week hosted on tumblr by hobbithelltrashsquad.

The sun was fast descending beyond the dark edge of the forest, tingeing the clear sky with a soft whirlwind of oranges which turned into buttercup yellow where the odd solitary cloud lingered above the horizon. The chill of the evening was beginning to seep through the ruined stones of the house, smelling of dampness and age-long memories – the ones which had left the broken pieces of their moulds scattered around the abandoned building, the imprint of lives long gone and sounds swallowed by the silence of time. And death.

There wasn't much in the house Kíli and her had commandeered as their secret abode, but Tauriel could read the memories in the rusty cudgel she had found discarded in a room downstairs, or the threadbare remnants of a rug, its colours bleached by the passing of countless seasons. She could read them in the dent on the floorboard where lifetimes of a door opening and closing had dug a crescent moon in the creaky wood. There were memories in this place which lingered forgotten between the thick stones of the walls, while Kíli and her wove their own, vibrant and alive and heart-flutteringly precious - like Kíli herself.

Tauriel looked down at the arrow she had been fletching, passing her thumb on the meticulously cut feather and trying to quell the pool of worry which stirred within her, hoping above all else the memories they had sung into existence with every breathless moment, with every sigh and kiss, every broad brightest smile - hoping they would not be all Tauriel would be left with.

And yet such was the way of mortals and she knew one day that fate would await her. But beyond the knowledge of the briefness of Kíli's existence when compared to the ages of the world, there was the fear their time would be cut shorter still and they would be separated by the ages of contempt their peoples had nurtured.

She could see how the differences between their races had driven them asunder, how incomprehension had built a phantom web of condescension and disgust. Tauriel could see it, understand it, but she had also seen. And even if Kíli's soul was not hers to touch, for unlike her own it was woven to tightly within her sinew and bone, Tauriel knew there was a mesmerising well of bright white stars whining within her Dwarrowdam and the light which flickered inside them held the sparks of all things dwarven, all things alien to her.

And yet how fascinating they were. Fascinating because they lived etched into the very marrow of Kíli's body and soul, in her dancing brown eyes and her wide beautiful grin which always made Tauriel's chest too tight and narrow for her heart as it pounded against her ribcage, bursting with the love which now lived in every breath she took.

Tauriel's hand went to the innermost pocket of her jerkin and her fingers closed around the smooth surface of the runestone Kíli had given her on the banks of the Long Lake. She closed her eyes, silently sighing as she gingerly held the image of Kíli in her mind's eye. Kíli's earnest expression that grey morning, her brown eyes filled with unspoken words and the one dwarvish word she had not understood then, but her heart had. Kíli, finding her a week after the battle, pale and gaunt from the wounds which had nearly taken her life, but looking at her with such a gaze Tauriel had stood transfixed, there on the deserted street of Dale. Her hands, rough and calloused as they had held her own and the breathless moment before Tauriel had pulled her closer and Kíli had circled her arms around Tauriel's back. The warmth of her breath as they had stood close and so near, and the sudden softness of her lips when Kíli had closed the last inch of distance between them and Tauriel's soul had sung in overwhelming joy.

The sound of footsteps in the street below made her lids fly open and her heart fluttered as her lips pulled in a smile. She listened to the nearly soundless movement of the oiled hinges as the door was opened and Kíli's heavy-booted footsteps resounded up the staircase. A moment later she walked into the attic, the waning sunlight painting her uncannily serious visage with a deep magenta that held more shade than light. Tauriel secured the runestone back within her pocket, lifting herself to her feet.

"Meleth nín" she greeted, looking at her beautiful vibrant Dwarrowdam with a whisper of anticipation coiling around her taut mind.

Kíli's expression softened and in in the dropping of her guard the maelstrom which battled within her eyes was given light and Tauriel could almost see her thoughts slashing and paring amongst gusts of wind and the slicing strength of the heavy raindrops. She was troubled.

"You had spoken to your kin." she said at last and Kíli nodded, her lips pulled in a straight line.

"I have asked my mother for her blessing." she told her in a guarded tone, dropping her lids with a heaved sigh and her fingers found Tauriel's, lacing with her own which curled towards Kíli's knuckles, feeling the roughness of her skin.

She waited patiently for Kíli to speak, in spite of the knot of fear she felt within her.

Tauriel didn't want for Kíli to be forced to choose – like Tauriel had, that fateful day in the Halls of the Elvenking when she had chosen Kíli over her King, her kin and all she had held dear. And she regretted it not. Not one single precious moment she had spent with her Dwarrowdam. She would have gladly traded all the ages of the world for just one of them.

But exile was nonetheless a weight at the bottom her soul. It was only the incommensurable joy which flooded her whenever Kíli was beside her that could cut through the wistfulness which sometimes gripped her strongly. And she would never wish such a plight to be inflicted on the unburdened vivacity of Kíli's summer soul.

Nor could she bear the thought of bidding her farewell yet, of being left stranded with nothing but her memories until the end of the days. Not so soon.

But it was beyond her power to act, to change what had been said and done.

"Amad was not happy." Kíli said, breaking the silence which had shrouded them.

Her eyes were boring into hers and there was worry within them when she spoke next.

"You are to stand beside me when we announce our betrothal to my family. Only then will she give us her blessing."

Tauriel felt a weight slip off her shoulders and she smiled brightly at Kíli, but her Dwarrowdam's eyes were still conflicted and a frown made its way to Tauriel's forehead.

"What worries you so?" she asked her "I will gladly come with you."

"I know you would, amrâlimê." Kíli replied, then dropping her head slightly she told her "But my family includes my Uncle."

Then looking up she pressed her lips into the thinnest line, telling her in earnest

"And he will not be happy."