Ch.16: Whatever Is Wrong

The large stone set off an eerie glow that cast the very thinnest of shadows against the walls. They danced ever so gently, just gently enough to seem alive to Bilbo's timid eyes as he slowly approached it. Everything in Rivendell seemed to sing quietly, like a delicate hum in the back of his mind as he drew the small iron chisel and mallet from inside his coat. His stomach did somersaults as the sharp ring of his first blow reverberated against the water and stone. He was convinced that at any moment he would be discovered and killed for this sacrilege. But nothing happened: no blows were dealt, no screams.

He steadied himself with a deep, firm breath and struck several times in quick succession. Finally a shard of rock chipped from the edge: about the length of his palm and as thick as his thumb. The sides of the lens were rough, but he hoped it would serve. He pocketed the treasure and his tools, spinning quickly and remaining crouched.

"Had I not known it was you, you would be dead already Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo's lips contracted over his teeth in a defeated grimace. He was staring headlong into the Lord Elrond's knees. He had not heard even the slightest whisper of footfalls.

"Perhaps you think you need it for your journey," the Lord speculated, circling the hobbit with a feline-like saunter, "But I wonder what use my stone could do you in the Shire?"

Bilbo stood silently, eyes glued to the patches of downy curls that warmed his feet.

"You do still intend to return to your home, do you not?"

Bilbo eyed the elf uncomfortably; he had not told anyone but Eily that he had chosen to abandon the quest. The Lord must have been quite perceptive even of the insignificant in his court.

"Or perhaps you have decided to aid the Lady Vividstone instead?"

Bilbo locked eyes with the Lord for the first time, nodding once.

A thin smile crept into the elf's eyes, "She is lucky then. She will need you."

Bilbo was becoming confused; shouldn't the Lord have demanded the stone back?

"I do not intend to take it from you Mr. Baggins. I agree. You do need it."

Bilbo choked slightly, becoming more and more unsettled as the Lord left him to gently finger at the break in the stone, his pale fingers meeting the shimmering stone and appearing nearly ghostly.

"It is good for her you are so loyal, even a single true companion can be the difference… so I have found."

Bilbo was about to interject that Gandalf was in fact a true friend.

"Do not rely too heavily on the wizard Mr. Baggins. He has his own agenda in this. He is not above believing that small sins are forgivable, he may have to betray that which he professes to love."

Even still the elf's eyes did not rise from the reflecting stone, and Bilbo wished he could leave, but knew better. It seemed that the elf could either hear his thoughts or guess at them.

"One more warning Mr. Baggins: I say this only for the sake of the mountain daughter."

Bilbo's frown deepened; his chest was tight as though a great fist had clutched his lungs.

"Do not trust the dwarves; they are under the thumb of Oakenshield."

Bilbo reacted without thought.

"And what is he under?"

The elf's soft face curdled when he spoke, "An old enemy Mr. Baggins, but one I fear you will come to know."

Fili found himself standing dumbly at Eily's door. He took a deep breath, then another. Finally his heavy knuckles met the wood in a light tap; brisk and gentle. To him it seemed too quiet, but he dared not knock any harder for fear of being heard by his uncle who slept not three doors down.

It would seem she also could not sleep, for she had heard him and cautiously cracked her door.

Fili lifted his lantern up to his face so that they might see each other clearly. Normally dwarf eyes could see in the dark close to unaided: their low-light vision was superior even to elves and second only to the goblins of the very deepest caverns, but this waning light the elves conjured interfered with it. Perhaps it was because Mahal had made their people to be hardy against all magicks, so that even the benign magic of the world became at best ineffective and at worst annoying. But that was not for Fili to guess at this moment and he knew to push the busying thoughts from his mind, knowing they were more a crutch to distract him from his discomforts.

He imagined he appeared tired, even though he had freshly combed and braided his beard. He expected to find her in a silken sleeping gown, contrived by elves and far too long, but instead she wore only the same linen shift: clean but ragged and stained at the hem, hair loose and wild. Her feet brushed softly against the floor as she stepped back to allow him entry.

Neither spoke as he strode in, careful to seem nonchalant and confident though his blood drained from his face and hands which now felt weak and cold. She took the lantern from him and placed it on a side table, standing proud and strong and icy as a statue of his ancestors.

"I'm sorry to disturb your privacy at this late hour," he began, "but I came to plead with you for my brother. He did not mean to insult you, and he is not aware of our Uncle's attempts to remove you from the quest, at least not their true motive. What was said was spoken from ignorance… and… and love."

He cast his eyes low.

"I feel no love for your brother Fili, and have told him as much."

His eyes fluttered up; full of confusion and attentiveness.

"How could I when I have found my One in another?"

A burst of hope was accompanied by an almost painful flutter of terror in his chest; he stood frozen. Could she mean him? Could his most secret, shriveled hope have somehow blossomed?

His shameful eyes rose up under blonde brows, heavy with old pains and lovingly carried burdens.

The beads in his beard caught the single light of the lantern, reflecting it in winks of silver which danced as his breathing tightened.

Her lips parted in uncertainty, timid to utter the words he so desperately needed to hear. But her eyes were clear and fixed on him.

His body moved slowly forward without his consent but not against his will. It acted on the heat in the air the same way a dancer's body reacts to notes on the wind: instinctively, intuitively.

His hands were no longer pale or cold when they reached for her, though they shook, now with restraint and not timidity.

He took each of her arms and pulled her to his chest, which to him felt brittle and abounding with a panic laced joy. Her hair was fragrant with fine salts and oils from afar: but beneath it was her, her smell, that nebulous indescribable scent that made his blood sing.

She was small and soft, and he felt himself tremble when she wrapped her arms about his neck.

He buried his broad nose into that sweet-smelling hair, ran his rough lips across her downy earlobe and sighed with want. He felt the roped muscle of his thighs tighten and his blood course through him in a frenzy of want.

The course hairs of his beard tickled her skin, and she made no attempt to hide it, sighing with a tender laughter that made his knees go weak; as though to pull them both down into naught but a pile of kisses and sweat and long slow undulating pleasure.

He was no longer capable of refraining. He could only throw himself at her altar.

His brother was gone from all thoughts, there was only the teasing hope that he was it, he was the One. And that he had found her, and she him, and his short, long, terrible, wonderful life would be fulfilled: for he had his One, that which for a dwarf was most needed, desired, and worshiped. It was in this moment he knew he could never go back: he was bound to her eternal should he have her love or no. There was only her, his imperfect, perfect, ugly, beautiful One.

Her next words would undo him, one way or another. And the longing in his body and the ache in his heart demanded satisfaction or ruin.

"Will you not ease my suffering?" He rasped, planting a gentle, audacious kiss across her brow, breathing deeply and relishing the scent of her, "Can you not discern what will become of me should you deny me?"

He felt her fingers twining their way up his neck to gently stroke his beard, playing delicately with the beads that adorned his mustache, fingertips indiscriminately gliding across his lips. He moaned against them and took hold of both her wrists, holding them fast to his jaw.

"Kiss me," he begged with no thought to pride, "Please, I cannot last another moment if you don't."

Her eyes finally met his, and she smiled sweetly, "Do not trouble yourself so; as you are dearest to my heart-"

Part of him wished he had let her finish, for he so loved to hear her speak of him so. But as it was he could restrain himself no longer, and he crushed her lips under his hungrily.

She could feel his tongue brushing against her lips, none-too gently but still begging for entry which she offered gladly. Both had agonized too long to be chaste with the other.

His tongue was thick, hot, wet, and stroked hers daringly, soliciting groans of pleasure from deep in his throat. His wide palms ran down her sides with slow indulgence, gripping the fabric of her shift between his strong fingers.

He sucked gently at her lower lip, eliciting a soft, approving moan. He moved lower, nibbling and sucking gently at her neck, making her wriggle in his arms. Her appreciative groans made him throb, and he pulled away slightly to hide his arousal.

She resisted out of confusion, pulling herself deeper into his embrace, feeling his excitement press into her hip. She gasped at the feel of it though not unpleasantly, but he pulled away in hasty embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry. I do not mean to seem boorish or impulsive, please excuse me," he combed his beard down gently with his fingers and straightened his tunic, shifting on his feet and trying to draw attention away from his deepening blush.

"Perhaps we should slow down," he offered, laughing lightly and trying to seem good-natured as he adjusted his belt.

She stood silently for a moment, pensive.

"Or," she muttered, "We could… not?"

She blushed amiably and began to gently pull at the laces of her slip, opening the collar and allowing it to slide gently lower on each shoulder.

Fili stared dumbly, his heart pounding deafeningly loud in his ears. Again he felt his loins throb uncomfortably against his breeches as her slip pooled to the floor. She swallowed nervously as she stepped from it, blushing but confident in her desire. Her chest heaved as though her breaths were coming too shallow for her and watching her breasts rise and fall subtly was making his entire body vibrate.

"Touch me," she purred.

He stared, mute and powerless.

"Touch me… here," she said, lowering her delicate hand to the very core of her sex.

Her face was aflame and her voice shook, but he found her boldness irresistible. He approached slowly, intending to draw out this moment he knew he would live again in his mind countless times.

When his fingers found her she was warm and slick and he searched for the small bud of her pleasure with slow, thorough strokes of his thumb. She crumbled a bit in his arms as he did so, breath going ragged and hitched. He could feel the demanding throb of blood in his own sex, but denied it. He would rather continue like this until she demanded more of him. He grinned as she began to work her hips against his hand to quicken the rhythm, giving a sharp gasp as his fingers dipped in and out of her in time with his strokes.

"You're getting so wet," he grinned with smug satisfaction, "Do you like the touch of my hands?"

"Yes," she moaned breathlessly, "But your Uncle is not so timid with his."

Fili's blood became ice, "Wh-what did you say?"

Her face rose to meet his, a wicked, pointed grin affixed to it, morphing her fair face into a clownish sneer.

"I said when your Uncle fucks me, he does not hold back as you do. He comes where he pleases and fucks however he likes."

As if summoned by her words hot thick semen began to ooze from her open, grinning mouth. The smell was overpowering and he pulled away with a jolt. But when he retracted his hand from her he saw that it had been drenched in dark, rich blood. He staggered back from her, her frame emaciated, cum rolling down her chin, her womanhood a bleeding ruinous gash.

"What's wrong Fili?" the creature laughed with a voice that echoed and rumbled in mockery of Eily, "What's wrong little prince?"

Her form took flame and within mere moments her skin bubbled and popped. Her fat boiled down into oil that oozed from her running flesh, falling in heaps from her elongated bones. The stench was unbearable, he retched.

The morphed, twisted skeletal thing laughed, this time with a deeper rumble unrecognizable to any but those who had lived in the deep of the earth and died a blazing death.

And as it came for him with mouth agape with fangs and hands long and tipped with talons, he prayed to Durin for strength.

"Fili! FILI!"

The blonde dwarf jolted awake, drawing a knife from inside his tunic before he even knew where he was.

"FILI!" Kili screamed, grabbing his brother with no thought to the drawn knife and shaking him roughly, "Fili where are you? Come back to us!"

Fili recognized the words from childhood: words their mother used to wake them from nightmares or bad thoughts.

He dropped the knife and rested his sweat soaked brow on Kili's shoulder, slumping forward into his younger brother and steadying his breath. Kili patted his back briskly for a moment but soon grew tired of it. His nightmares were becoming worse.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked with a peak of curiosity in his voice, "It's not like you to have such nightmares."

Fili responded without thinking, he was growing accustomed to lying to his brother, and it made him sick inside.

"The road Kili. I was dreaming about the road."

"Ah," Kili nodded, seeming satisfied, there was no telling what awaited them outside Rivendell. He shifted back into place beside Fili and wrapped his blanket around himself tightly.

Fili lay awake for several moments, trying to become comfortable again.

"Fili?" Kili probed.

"Yes Kili?"

"I'm sorry about our fight today. I'm sorry I disagreed with you about Eily leaving."

Fili let out a long sigh.

"I still don't agree with you, but I can see your side of it. And well, I just wanted you to know I'm sorry we fought, and I'm sorry if I seem impulsive."

Fili smiled, but only a little and for an instant, "I'm sorry too Kili."

"I do love her you know… Eily. I know you think I'm silly, and young, and reckless. But I do."

Fili's frown deepened, "I know you do Kili."

Eily huffed when she found Bilbo's message to her under the bench. She was still upset from her argument with Kili, and became even more flustered when she found that Bilbo had not waited for her as they had agreed (although she had not waited dutifully for him either once Kili had bounded up the path). Still, she was tired and had no interest in climbing up a tree to get the reflecting stone from some silly bird's nest. She scanned the clearing agitatedly, he would not have chosen a nest far away or too far from sight. Soon enough she spotted an abandoned nest near the top of an old birch, and because she was too tired to bother climbing it, she knocked the nest from its limb with a rock.

She approached the broken mass of grass and twigs somberly, poking at it with her boot until the stone winked at her from the ground. She pocketed it quickly and immediately rushed off to shut herself up in her room. Once there, she latched the door, kicked off her boots, and forced herself to go to bed.

She lay awake for many long hours, turning the shard in her hand, examining it, getting to know it.

Thinking of her companions: her family.

The Mountain: her mother's memory.

The Drake.

"Three more days."

Kili's nostrils flared subtly as he felt his brows knitting together, bearing his eyes down once again upon his work. He sat trimming the new fletching in his freshly assembled arrows, removing the access in practiced, gentle strokes with his knife. From the outside he seemed to be focused on what for others was delicate work, but the truth was that Kili was exceptionally skilled in handicraft. Back home, he was known for casually flitting from task to task, never working in the same craft for two months running, earning him a reputation for being disorderly or unfocused (despite his incontestable knack). The fact was he was simply too gifted with his hands, and had not yet found a craft to properly occupy his natural skill. Truthfully, he could have finished this simple task of fletching arrows in half the time with barely half this level of concentration.

He simply did not wish to be spoken to and so projected an air of absorption in the work. In reality he was miles away, his hands knowing their work well enough for his mind to roam free. His eyes darted from the feathers to Eily and back again. Each time they returned his brows knit ever tighter together and his frown deepened. She was sitting with Dori, helping him take stock of their tools and dividing them between company members to avoid over-burdening anyone.

Kili found it more and more difficult to find Eily alone the closer the company came to the day of departure. It seemed there was always a bit of work that needed doing: someone in need of help tying something up or packing something away or sharpening this or adjusting that.

Eily was helpful in all these matters (to Kili's great surprise). She seemed unbothered about being assigned to the Blue Mountains, saddened only by having to part ways with her new-found family.

Of course Kili now knew better, but dared not bring up their fight (or its facets) whilst in so public a setting. Eily seemed aware of this, and studiously avoided being alone with him (out of anger or awkwardness, he could not tell). It was now the eve before their departure and Kili had still managed neither to apologize nor in any way reconcile himself with her, and his misery deepened by the hour. It was unimaginable to ride into possible death without at least proclaiming his affections a final time no matter how repulsive she found the sentiment.

It would seem he had no option now but to approach her, he had simply run out of time.

He sheathed his blade smoothly, sliding the finished arrow into the quiver with its brothers. He took a long breath and forced a smile as he stood, approaching Dori and Eily with a small spring in his step.

Dori beamed at his approach, "Why hello Kili! All finished fletching arrows?"

"I've enough to put a shaft through the eye of every goblin here to Erebor," Kili grinned earnestly.

Dori immediately ruffled at the remark, "Now don't go tempting fate with your words! Goblins are nothing to grin about! Why I was telling Eily just this morning over toast-"

"Could I speak to the Lady alone for a moment?" Kili blurted, eyes darting between the two.

Eily's eyes met his immediately, but Dori seemed confused, his words halting, "Well I… I suppose so certainly."

The gray beard shifted on his feet for half a moment, but finally committed to walking away, too polite to look over his shoulder at the two young dwarves who stood with their eyes locked together, an ocean seeming to lay between them.

"I want to apologize," Kili began, "For insulting you… with the gift, and the things I said, I-"

"It wasn't the gift, or even what you said really. Only that you did not seem to understand me."

"But I think I do understand!" he chirped, taking her hands in his urgently.

He did not seem to know where to go from there, and swallowed nervously even though his mouth was dry. He gazed down at her hands in his, and gently stroked the backs of her hands with the calloused pads of his thumbs.

"I think I do understand," he continued, "You are like me. You wish to bring honor to your family, and earn your place. I told you of my hopes, and my fears that night on the grass, but when you tried to share your sentiments with me I quashed them in favor of playing the hero. But it is not a hero you need, I see that now."

Her breathing had stalled, and she was gazing at him with new eyes when he fell to a single knee.

"I cannot go against my uncle, nor can I tell you that I wish to. I cannot bear the thought of you in danger again. When this journey began, I cared for you. From the moment I saw you I knew our fates were somehow entangled. But when you fell into that river, and it was my brother who saved you… something inside of me was broken, and only embracing you again could mend it. But putting you in danger… I cannot. And I beg you do not ask me to. I thank Mahal my uncle forbade you from going forward. I know you revile it, but I..."

He drew a shaky breath, he felt like he was rambling, but the words poured from him near unbidden; they had been too long locked up inside him to be restrained any longer and like a torrent they rolled forth across his lips.

"I love you Eily. I know it is a sentiment you find repugnant, for I have insulted you and your family so gravely. But for my impulsiveness and my impudence I can only beg forgiveness. I love you. I love you and I beseech you not to cast me aside or censure me any longer. I know words are a paltry offering after the hurt that I dealt you, and I do not deserve your friendship or love, but please allow me to earn it back once I return to the Blue Mountains. Please, tell me there is hope for what I wish for us."

At this he kissed her hands, and buried his face in her palms. If these stolen touches were all he ever knew of her he still would count himself blessed, and when her fingers again moved to comb back his hair unbidden he sighed with pleasure and relief, smiling a gentle soft smile a this kindness from grace.

Eily stood stunned. Kili's words had rushed forth like a flood, sweeping away her rationality in its wake. She held her breath and tried to clear her thoughts, knowing that to answer in haste was crueler than any stroke she could render.

She thought on their last meeting, on his insults and her bitterness. In the days since she had realized she had reacted to what she saw as Thorin in Kili's words, not Kili's words themselves. And while Kili had not truly understood that she was unlike the maidens in the stories, he seemed to realize it now. She did not now nor ever desire one to fight in her place, but at her side. And while Kili could not offer that, he was honest, and displayed a certain self-reflection she found admirable. His love was earnest and innocent, and she could see herself loving him.

But the road ahead was perilous, not just for him, but for her. She would be traveling alone, and with another, more treacherous quest. If Thorin or the company knew of her vow to destroy the Arkenstone, they would do anything in their power to stop her. If she succeeded, they may even try to kill her. Her vow put her in direct confrontation with all of them, even Kili.

Kili was no fool. But he could not see the darkness festering in his uncle's heart, or the deception in hers. He was on all sides blinded by love and devotion. His goodness did not allow him to see what was right in front of him, and she shuddered to think of what would become of that goodness should the evil in the Arkenstone set its claws into him. That was why she could not falter in this.

If she destroyed the Arkenstone, she would save Thorin and his heirs, but make herself their enemy in the process. But should she fail, or stray from her oath, she could damn them in the process.

She could not leave a hope of love between them only to dash it when she was revealed a traitor to all the dwarves of Erebor and a defiler of its most beloved relics. She could not do that to one so full of goodness and courage.

Tears welled in her eyes. The true gravity and cost of her oath revealed to her.

She allowed her fingers to weave their way through his soft mane, the dark waves falling and winding between her fingers in gentle streams.

"Hear me Kili: I am now and will always be your friend. Remember that always, no matter what comes. And remember that what I do now and forever is out of love, for you, and for our people."

His gaze rose to meet hers, alight with gladness but also confusion.

"But I cannot promise you a life with me Kili. That is beyond my power, and I would not urge you to pursue it. It is beyond the gifts I can offer in this life."

The blow dealt to her heart when she looked upon his face was graver than anything she could ever imagine. The light in his eyes faded, his mouth dropped, his eyes reddened and welled.

But he was so very brave, and so very kind.

He fought the pain in his features, for fear of hurting her. And he fought the confusion and the pleading and the words and the tears.

He stood tall and smiled softly. He cupped her cheek in his large, rough palm. He pulled her into an embrace; gentle and warm.

His chest bobbed gently against hers, but she could feel the tightness in it, a knot of agony and disappointment.

He exhaled slowly, it was halting and shallow, "You will always have my friendship Eily. And my love."

At this she felt him smile, though she could not see his face.

"But you will forgive a dwarf for not giving up."

A sliver of cheekiness entered his voice as he leaned his lips into her forehead; his hot breath smelt of the blackberry jam he had slathered on his toast hours before.

"Please know that I respect you Eily: your feelings and your wishes. But that does not mean I can change mine. We dwarves live long lives… and whatever wrong it is that keeps us apart, I will set it right," he kissed her forehead, "Count on it."

He sealed his promise with a sudden and powerful kiss, his rough lips bearing down on her with an eager self-assurance, his tongue sweeping boldly into her mouth and giving hers a playful stroke.

He tasted tart and sweet.

Before she could respond or react further he released her and spun on his heel, sauntering away proudly.

She was too dazed and rattled to protest as he looked over his shoulder at her and winked devilishly, a wide roguish grin painted across his face.

The dawn felt like it was racing them as the company climbed the steep trail leading them to the eastern edge of Rivendell. Their elven ponies clopped briskly along despite the incline. Gandalf was ahead, leading the company and seeming to feel no anxiety about leaving the safety of Rivendell, or Eily. His eyes were ahead, his countenance comfortable. Thorin had lagged at the peak of the trail, turning back to watch the others as they progressed up towards him and then turned into the opening in the rock face that would lead them into the Misty Mountains.

Thorin surveyed his company with a resolute, if restrained, happiness. Each member had regained a bit of the spark they had left the Shire with. And now that they were resupplied with food and fresh ponies, he was certain they would make good time to the mountain, arriving well before Durin's day.

Thorin's every cell was invigorated and awakened by the rising sun, and he glowed with a renewed confidence that soon the Arkenstone would be his, followed promptly by his kingdom, and his chosen queen. He had every confidence that the young Lady Eily would submit to his will, if for nothing more than the good of the people. He could see the strong sense of duty that formed the core of her being.

He smiled subtly as Kili passed him, nodding slightly. His acknowledgement was met with Kili's usual affectionate smile. The boy truly did love him, and so Thorin was once again confident that Kili would be happy to relinquish any claim on the Lady Eily he may think he had. After all, the boy was a pathological flirt who could not possibly have any serious intentions for the girl anyway. Yes, Kili would step aside, the girl would relent, and the King's jewel would once again rest in the rightful possession of the line of Durin.

Kili smiled broadly when he saw his Uncle nod faintly in his direction. There were some days growing up when Thorin, absorbed in thought or labor, barely registered the existence of his nephews (especially the younger Kili). Neither of them resented it of course, they had been raised to understand that their people and their duties as the heirs of Durin always came first, but it made the moments when they were seen all the sweeter. With his uncle's approving glance, the crisp morning air, and the swiftly rising sun over the mountains, Kili resolved to be of whatever service he could to his family and his people. He would retake Erebor and place his uncle on the throne of old. He would wreathe himself in glory and return to Eily to fix what he had broken and claim the true King's jewel.

Of this he was certain.

Eily sighed resentfully when the last pony passed out of her vision up the mountain. Of course she had risen before the dawn to see them off, and at that time had been awake and energized, but now she felt suddenly exhausted, her limbs heavy. She reached into her belt pouch and rested her hand in her small stash of treasures: the shard of reflecting stone, the bag of beads, and the caged diamond. Each sent a pang of torment into her spirit, galvanizing her, steeling her for what she knew she must do. The pain of these doomed devotions would fuel her, reminding her of what she would lose should she fail, and she offered a solemn prayer to the Father Mahal. She prayed that with the help of Bilbo she would somehow retrieve the Arkenstone first, that she would destroy it before the company realized she was there. Maybe that they would never know, that they would give up the stone for lost and would return to the Blue Mountains to conceive of another way of destroying the dragon.

But she offered a second prayer also, a more likely request. That should she be found, that she still manage to destroy it, even if it meant the heirs of Durin would kill her by their own hands for her treachery.

"Please," she pleaded, "please let me live these days well. And bestow a beard upon me and my mother in the afterlife. Welcome us into your halls."

She put a hand to her lips, and allowed herself a short, comforting indulgence by thinking of him.

Fili had to fight not to look back over his shoulder, down the rock face and across the water, back to Rivendell; he knew that his uncle would mark it and disapprove.

He saw his uncle give Kili a slight nod, and as he neared he saw the dwarf King's icy blue gaze begin to turn towards him. He dropped his eyes to the side of his pony, pretending to inspect a loose strap. Thorin did not seem to make any note of Fili's distraction, and he was glad for it. He rode at the back of the column, not daring to look any member of the company in the eye, but especially not Kili, or his uncle. He feared either would read the confession in his eyes, and was ashamed.

He prayed to Mahal that his uncle did not smell her on him.

**Author's Note: Ah! Such a long delay for this chapter! My sincerest apologies but life does have a way of getting in the way. I hope you have all been well and that this new installment is to your liking. Much love to my reviewers and followers! You're all great!

Also, I should note that I am now formally taking requests for Middle Earth fics (Hobbit or LOTR of any rating). So if you like what I'm doing here and would like to see a short of some kind (I'll do anything up to five chapters, I can't promise more than that) send me your requests/ideas, and tell your friends!**