Ch. 6: Ugly, Lovely, Lady
**Author's Note: Due to Jackson's choice to portray Kili with such a short/stubbly beard, I've chosen to ignore Tolkien's remarks about dwarves being born with beards in favor of them coming in at puberty (because I can't think of any reason why Kili would keep it so short otherwise, he's a Longbeard for goodness sake). So yeah, more tweaking to make the book and movieverses blend a bit more for me.**
It took a plate colliding with his skull to make Fili realize he was not dreaming… or dead. There was the possibility that Shire food was somehow toxic, or that he and his brother had somehow died on the road.
But the ache in his head made promises of the bump to come, so he was neither dreaming nor expired.
This made the sight of her all the more disturbing.
What a strange, ugly little thing she was.
A dwarf woman, somewhat slight of frame, beardless so in the first moment he thought she could be a child who had not grown into her beard yet (perhaps another late bloomer like his brother) but her baring eliminated such a possibility.
She was at least as old as him and seemed to understand with her eyes even if her experience was limited.
Then he wondered if she was somehow disgraced, shaving her face as a sign of her shame as decent dwarves did when they lost or otherwise compromised their honor. But her face showed no sign of having ever been shaved, groomed, trimmed or otherwise bearded. Her skin was smooth and soft like a human or elf maid.
So then what did that make her?
She was of the appropriate height, curvy, (if a bit slight of frame, as typical of young dwarves, especially if she had been traveling and living lean) and obviously strong in body. Her nose was small, her face delicate for a dwarf, but they were not odd or disproportionate features if they were only complimented by a beard.
Then Gandalf introduced her, and while the question of her race had been alleviated, her origin only deepened his confusion.
His eyes broke from her only to examine the faces of the others, who were equally disturbed by her, except of course for Kili, who was never smart enough to be disturbed when he should be.
Kili's amusement at his brother's sudden loss of coordination was a fortuitous lead in to his first sight of Eily. Fortuitous because it meant he was flashing a bright toothed smile for the first time she saw his full face.
Kili may have been mischievous, even rude, but he made a point of always giving his very best smile when he met someone new no matter how odd they seemed, just as he had when he first saw Mr. Boggins (Baggins?). And he had never been so grateful for that habit until this moment, even if maintaining that smile did cause him to destroy a perfectly good gravy boat in the process.
She was absolutely lovely.
She was the perfect blend of dwarven strength and foreign fairness.
She was the proper height, with a slight build, full bust, youthful features, and a head of thick shining blonde hair that had been highlighted by the sun.
If what others said was true, and his brother had a mane of gold, then this maid's hair was comprised of the light reflected from a finely cut diamond, for hers was not so dirty a blonde.
Her hair flowed in gentle waves ending in the center of the curve of her breasts and appeared soft to the touch. He was surprised to note that it was completely unadorned; she had no braids, beads, clasps or ribbons in it though it was clearly cared for and often combed. Her skin was pale like an elf, but moles and freckles dotted her here and there (which in his opinion made her more beautiful than an elf, whose creamy skin was always just a single shade of milk). Her eyes were green with flecks of golden toned browns and her eyelashes were long and batted with unwitting appeal as her gaze swept to the floor.
The base layer of her garb was a plain, fitted long sleeved tan linen dress with a modest neckline, embroidered about the collar, over which she wore a fitted, fur lined, front lacing, mossy (nearly brown) green bodice dress with short vented sleeves to allow freedom of movement in the shoulders and thin deep red detailing about the seams and edges.
The vented sleeves were festooned with metal studs for ornamentation while revealing the think linen beneath. The green outer layer of the gown had open seams on each side and down the front where it laced up her torso, this broke the outer layer into three panels of fabric, two in front and one in back to let her move more easily (the hem on both layers was kept a little high to prevent them from catching and dragging in dirt, through the hem was filthy and torn anyway).
Beneath her skirts Kili spotted that she wore tight brown breeches and knee high brown leather boots, a bit unorthodox but necessary if she were to be traveling in the wild. Over her gown she wore a brown leather belt, obviously crafted by dwarves but of common make with a simple iron buckle. On the belt she had two small pouches, a reasonably sized hunting knife, and a short handled battle axe which hung from one side of her hip ending just above her knee, making her shift her weight to the side, a posture that flaunted the curve of her hip (he approved).
She had no armor, her clothing was modest, and had she a beard she would have fit in easily with the wandering, practical, and often impoverished, dwarves of Erebor.
But she had no beard.
Kili did not mind in the slightest though, to him a pretty face was a pretty face, and when the hall began to clear, his eyes left her reluctantly.
"So are you hungry?" Bilbo asked, turning to her with his full dustpan of dish remnants, "I have a few biscuits and a choice bit of ham in the parlor that I was saving for an after dinner snack. We could warm up by the fire while you ate."
Bilbo's offer was both kind and perceptive; the last place she wanted to enter was that dining room.
Eily followed Bilbo into the cozy parlor with its hearth already flaming, and on a small side table next to an inordinately plush chair sat a rather generous helping of ham, a baked potato, and two biscuits.
Bilbo sat next to her contentedly as she delicately ate, happy to remain quiet by her side, perhaps comforted by her in comparison to the boisterous company that now occupied nearly every other room of the house at their leisure.
The two oddballs sat exchanging slightly awkward smiles until she drank down the last of her wine.
"So… you were born from a mountain eh?" Bilbo asked with a disbelieving smirk.
She nodded patiently, "My consciousness in ninety years old, not very old for a dwarf, but I did not have a body until very recently. I know it makes me strange, but it's a lot like just existing in one place, living through other people's stories, and then suddenly… being pushed out to find your own way. I am an orphan now, and yes my mother was technically a mountain, but that is just what held her spirit. I mean, she was a dwarf until her bones turned to rock and stone and her will was crystalized into a blessed gem."
She turned to Bilbo, a matter of fact look on her face, as though these were simply acceptable facts. But the world at large was not as magical as her mother and Gandalf were, and apparently the hobbit did not understand, and as usual her honesty was met with a tightening silence.
"I suppose… we are not so different then," he mused.
She stared at him, and a warm light seemed to fill her chest as he smiled at her, trying so kindly to find common ground between them.
"I mean, I've lived at Bag End my entire life, and I grew up learning through stories and other people's words, though many of them are in books and maps… I suppose if I and my mother were, uhm, mountains, it would be just the same."
Really the comparison was weak at best, but she reached for his hand and held it in a gesture of understanding, and maybe solidarity. Like hers it was soft and comfortable and Bilbo's pointed ears turned a little pinker at the feel of her skin.
But she did not notice as this was the first hand she had ever held really.
He was the first normal creature who had heard her story and accepted it. Her first friend outside of the enigmatic Gandalf, and in that moment she swore to be a loyal and true friend to him until the end of her days whether he assisted in the retaking of Erebor or not.
For the hearts of dwarves beat behind high walls, but are fierce when won.