27: This Storm We'll Weather Together

In the end, they did not need to tell Dáin anything.

They had just stepped off their wagon after being admitted through the gate into Hammerstead, which was, according to Ruari, the main settlement of Dwarves in the region by a young Dwarf who was so flabbergasted by the presence of an elf-woman that he did not even ask them why they wanted access to the city, when a Dwarf that could only be the Lord of the Iron Hills himself came striding towards them. He was wearing what Tauriel judged to be hunting gear and examined them with a shrewd, assessing gaze.

"Well, what's this gossip I hear of the most curious of parties having arrived in our midst? An empty-handed treasure hunter, an elf dressed as a peasant, and—" His eyes landed on Kíli, narrowed, and then widened, even if only fractionally. "Ah. One of Thorin's wee boys. Which one are you, then?"

Kíli tried to match Dáin's apparent lack of surprise but was not quite as successful. Still, he managed a confident posture with his shoulders pulled back and his head held high. "Kíli, at your service."

"The younger one, aren't you?"

If they had not discussed the details of Erbeor's line of succession, Tauriel might not have thought much of the flicker she thought she detected in Dáin's eyes as he absorbed this information. As it was, she could not help but wonder if it might not have been better after all to try and conceal Kíli's identity. Well, it was too late for that now.

If Kíli was made nervous by Dáin's assessment of him, he did not let it on. "I've come bearing news about your cousin," he said. "It's a matter of both great importance and delicacy. May we speak in private, perhaps?"

Their exchange had drawn a considerable crowd by now, and Tauriel wholeheartedly agreed with Kíli's wish to remove themselves from both curious eyes and ears. Dáin, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to their audience. Or perhaps an audience was precisely what he was looking for, judging by his theatrical manners.

"More important than the news that the mountain has been opened and the dragon slain?" he asked. "Or is that what you came to inform me of? If so, then I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. The ravens were here faster than you were."

Tauriel's heart leapt into her throat on Kíli's behalf. His uncle had done it, then. Erebor was back in the hands of the Dwarves. This also meant that the threat Gansukh had revealed might be upon them any day now, demanding them to act swiftly.

Kíli's hand twitched at his side. Tauriel wanted to run her fingers over his knuckles, kiss them until she felt his fist unclench under her touch. Instead, she chose another way to take some of the weight he carried off his shoulders and stepped forward.

"The matter we have come to bring to your attention is indeed related to the reclaiming of the kingdom of Erebor. And it demands swift action, we believe."

Those cunning eyes were upon her now. With some relief, Tauriel found that she knew not nearly enough of the Dwarf Lord before her to be frightened by him.

"And you are—"

"Crucial to the matter we came to discuss," Kíli jumped in before Dáin could begin his interrogation. "As is he."

Ruari had lingered close to the ponies, watching their exchange with wariness written across his sullen features. At Kíli's nod in his direction he grimaced, as if he would give anything in the world not to be associated with this whole mess.

Dáin's eyes flickered between the three of them. "You are lucky to find me in a bit of a celebratory mood, what with one of the great kingdoms of Dwarves having been recently returned to our kind." He clapped his hands, loud enough to elicit a startled jump from more than one of the bystanders. "Fine then, I'll listen to your tale. It'd better be entertaining, though."

And with that he turned sharply on his heel, the entourage of guards that had stood by while they spoke scrambling to fall into step behind him. Tauriel exchanged a shrug with Kíli. No going back now.

Turning towards Ruari, she saw him press something into the hand of a nearby Dwarf, speaking to him urgently while he stroked Nibble's flank. Ah. Payment for tending to the ponies.

Ruari jogged across the square to join them as they, too, turned to follow Dáin.

"You did not mention that you knew Dáin personally," Tauriel said. The Dwarf Lord's accurate identification of Kíli had startled her, but not so much that she had forgotten that even before that, he had correctly labeled Ruari as a treasure hunter.

Now Ruari winced. "Did not think he'd recognize me. It has been a few years since I was last here."

A slight shadow passed over his face, making Tauriel wonder about his history with the place he had led them to. Kíli appeared to notice, too.

"I hope that back then you did not do something that will negatively affect our negotiations with Dáin. Such as steal a piece of treasure, perhaps?"

Kíli's muttered tones made it hard to distinguish between joke and jibe. Either way, Ruari's expression remained uncharacteristically sober as he shook his head.

"Nothing like that. It's. . . My history with the place does neither involve or affect Dáin. Nothing to worry your pretty head over."

And just like that the Dwarves returned to their habitual squabbling, leaving Tauriel to trail after them while she took in some of the characteristics of the city. Most of the buildings were low, two stories high at the most, with thick, thatched roofs giving them an even more stumped appearance. Most ground floors housed open workshops under low awnings, with tools for a variety of trades hanging from walls and ceilings.

Tauriel took in all those things quickly, never letting her eyes linger in a place for long. She was acutely aware of the curious, not entirely friendly stares directed at her person. Quickening her step, she made sure to keep the distance between herself and Ruari and Kíli as small as possible.

They followed Dáin and his entourage to a building that was set back from the rest of them, a flight of uneven stone steps leading up to a wide gate adorned with carvings of runes and intricate patterns. Other than being considerably larger than the houses they had passed on their way, Dáin's hall was built in a similar fashion as the smaller dwellings, its small windows seeming to stare at them in suspicion as they approached.

Dáin did not pause as he stepped across the threshold, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it in the direction of one of his men, who scrambled to catch the heavy furs in his arms. Through a dim and not exactly welcoming entrance hall they went, Dáin pushing open a heavy set of double doors at the far end to lead them into a large, slightly better lighted room with no furnishings aside from a clunky chair on a low dais.

On that chair Dáin deposited himself with a grunt while Tauriel was still busy examining the skillfully embroidered hangings on the walls, their beautiful patterns immediately causing her to recall the intricate, winding shapes of the tattoo on Kíli's arm.

Since no invitation seemed to be forthcoming, their small party lined themselves up in front of Dáin of their own accord, varying degrees of hesitation written across their features. If anything, Dáin increased their discomfort by studying each of them for several tense, silent minutes. Eventually, his eyes settled on Kíli.

"So. What message has my dear cousin entrusted you with? Don't get me wrong, but after our last interaction I was under the distinct impression that everyone who did not aid him in his reckless quest could, in essence, go fuck themselves."

After many weeks in the company of Dwarves, Tauriel did not even bat an eyelash at the cheerfully delivered profanity. Kíli, meanwhile, squirmed on the spot, suggesting that something of the sort had indeed been proclaimed by Oakenshield.

Hedging around that clearly sensitive topic, Kíli chose another approach.

"Perhaps I have not made myself entirely clear. When I said that I have news regarding my uncle, I did not mean a message, in the strictest sense of the word. I have, in fact, not seen Thorin for several months."

For once, Dáin appeared taken aback. "I confess myself surprised. I did not think you lot could stay apart for long. Come to think of it, why isn't that brother of yours with you? From what I hear, Dís' sons are pretty much attached at the hip."

At the mention of his brother, pain flickered across Kíli's features, but he hid it quickly by lowering his head. "If you can spare the time, I shall regale you with the tale of my most recent misfortunes." He risked a soft smile at Tauriel. "As well as some of the more fortunate things which have happened along the way."

It was hard to tell underneath all that facial hair, but Tauriel thought Dáin looked at least somewhat intrigued. "Go on then. I'd say I haven't got all day, but to be frank there is not that much to keep me busy here these days. All eyes, it would appear, are turned westward."

Following up on this invitation, Kíli relayed the story of his own capture and the events which had followed. Despite the fact that she had been there for most of it, Tauriel found herself captured by his storytelling. Especially the vivid portraits he painted of their fellow prisoners and other people they had met along the way—always without giving away too many intimate details—caused her heart to lurch with a myriad of emotions. For someone who had walked this earth for several centuries without really seeing much of the world, she'd certainly had quite the adventure within a few short weeks, hadn't she?

When Kíli's narration reached the part about Gansukh's threat and their subsequent escape from Rhûn, Tauriel refocused all her attention on Dáin. This was where his potential involvement in their scheme would become clear. This was where he would need to make a decision. As it was, though, neither his face nor his posture gave much away regarding his feelings about the things he had just learned. From time to time, he would run his fingers through his beard, his eyes narrowing as he digested a particularly difficult piece of information. Other than that, however, he seemed perfectly calm.

After Kíli was done talking, the hall was plunged into silence. They had been here quite some time, and Tauriel resisted the urge to shift her feet to relieve them of some of the pressure of standing still for so long. This she'd had ample practice in during her cadet years in the guard.

"The question then," Ruari spoke when Dáin did not, his patience always the most threadbare, "is whether you will come to Oakenshield's aid in this time of need. Whether we Dwarves will fight as one once more. Or whether you prefer this—" he gestured around the barren hall, "to the glory of our forefathers' kingdom."

That last bit had clearly been meant to provoke. Still, it was neither Ruari nor Kíli whom Ironfoot addressed when he finally spoke, but Tauriel.

"I've heard your tale now, or a version of it, at least. Still, I remain unconvinced of your motivation to be here rather than back in that horrid forest of yours, wailing songs of starlight and washing down what little sense your race possesses with too sweet wine and toenail-curling spirits."

Again, her time with the Dwarves had prepared her for the open hostility which her presence in Dáin's halls might provoke. After all, Kíli himself had not been much better when they had first met, his barbed comments from back then nowadays a source of amusement and endless private jokes between them.

She kept her head held high. "In our shared adventures, Kíli has earned himself my loyalty. Rather than run away when he could have, he stayed to save my life. I would follow him anywhere."

A spark of interest lit up Dáin's eyes. "Ah, it is a matter of personal inclination, then?"

Tauriel hesitated. Had she revealed too much, too soon? "A matter of what is right, and what is not, rather," she tried instead. "If sinister forces really are gathering, Erebor will only be their first target. It will be best to root out the evil before it has a chance to spread. And I want to be there for that. I want to fight."

"I don't trust your kind," Dáin said, unimpressed by her speech, "and for good reason. Why should I make an exception for you?"

"It is not her you need to trust," Kíli cut in before Tauriel had the time to come up with an answer. He shot her a quick, apologetic glance. "It is my word you need to put your faith in. And I vouch for her. There's no one I'd trust more readily with my life."

Dáin's eyes slowly moved between the two of them. "I've half a mind to go with you to Erebor just to see Thorin's face when he hears you speak such fervent words on behalf of an Elf." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Fine, then. I'll sleep on it. Can't make any promises, though. I have no crown or royal title for good reason—the Dwarves of the Iron Hills don't like being ordered about. If they are to march to Erebor, it needs to happen on their own terms."

That fearful, restless thing in Tauriel's chest longed to push for more than merely a vague consent to consider their plea. It wasn't her place to do so, though, and so she inclined her head along with Kíli and a slightly more reluctant Ruari. It was not as if they could have gone any further today anyway, tired and travel-worn as they were.

Even before Dáin's harsh words, Tauriel had not expected much hospitality from their—hopefully brief—stay. Which was why she was quite surprised when, after being dismissed by Dáin, they were shown to their own quarters inside the lord's manor. Those consisted of a communal space, where a cheerful fire burned inside a massive stone hearth, and two adjoining bedrooms with large four-poster beds. Ruari immediately went to inspect the carafe and three goblets that had been set out on a low table.

Tauriel looked pointedly from their small group of three to the two beds and back. "He is scarily perceptive, this—I'm afraid I'm still not entirely clear on your relation to each other—cousin? Of yours?"

"Second cousin, once removed," Kíli mumbled while his eyes moved around the room. It was comfortable enough, cozy almost, even if the heavy furniture and thick drapes in front of the windows were not something Tauriel would have chosen herself. "And yes, it would seem that nothing really gets past him."

Tauriel arched an eyebrow at him. "You are not bothered by the fact that he clearly expects you and me to share a bed?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. "How do you know it's not Ruari he thinks I will want to snuggle up to under the covers?"

"You wish," Ruari grunted from behind the rim of his—second—goblet of wine.

Kíli laughed, the sound loud and carefree in the enclosed space. They still had many challenges ahead of them, but now that they were here and, for the moment, safe, some of the tension of the last few days was lifted off their shoulders.

Turning to fully face Tauriel, Kíli resumed their previous conversation. "No, I'm not really bothered by Dáin knowing about us." He shrugged. "He has no claim over me or the way I lead my life. And who knows, this might even work out to our advantage."

Even as his confidence in their bond warmed her from the inside, Tauriel could not help feeling taken aback. "You really believe that?"

"Well, you heard what he said before. About Thorin."

This time it was her who laughed. "Kíli, I do not think he was being serious when he said he would come to Erebor just so he could be there if your uncle finds out about us."

"When he finds out about us," Kíli corrected her and Tauriel tried her best to ignore the tug her heart gave at his words. "And I would not make such a hasty judgment about that. Dáin and Thorin have always seemed to draw great enjoyment from rubbing each other the wrong way."

"Don't you mean the right way?" Ruari, third cup of wine in hand, had settled in a seat opposite the fireplace and was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Kíli pressed the tips of his fingers against his brow. "Again, with the not helpful images."

But he laughed, again, and took the chair opposite Ruari's. Tauriel perched on the armrest, leaning back slightly into Kíli's hand where it quickly found its way to the small of her back.

"What should we do while we wait for Dáin to come to a decision, then?" Tauriel looked around the room, as if it might provide her with an answer. After all this time, it felt odd to be inside a space that wasn't a cell or some other form of prison.

"The wine's not half bad."

Ruari's implied suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Finally, Kíli slapped his thigh before pushing out of his chair to fetch the remaining two goblets.

"Why not, then. After everything, the least we deserve is a bit of refreshment, right?"

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

They ended up drinking a little more than what would normally be encompassed by the term refreshment. The wine really was quite good. Also, it had the added benefit of, for a few hours, filling the hole created by Suri's and Ingolf's absence, which was always the most palpable in those moments when only three of them were gathered around a fire when it should have been five.

When a young, slightly bewildered looking Dwarf came to fetch them for the communal supper, Kíli and Ruari were already well on their way to being properly inebriated and Tauriel, too, was very conscious of the wine-induced warmth high in her cheeks. Where normally she might have been somewhat reluctant to attend a meal with a large number of Dwarves who, so far, had not exactly extended the hand of friendship towards her, she now placidly followed a giggling Kíli and a hiccuping Ruari through dimly lit corridors, the alcohol in her blood singing to her that not much could go wrong with sitting down for a bite of food, no matter her host's attitude towards her.

When she became conscious of the weight of the many states resting on her as they entered the dining hall, she wavered on that conviction. After all, there were some very sharp knives scattered around the long tables and more than one of the Dwarves sitting at them bore the sort of look on his face that had already passed from hostile into murderous. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. . .

Dáin was seated at the head of a long table at the far end of the hall, slightly elevated above the rest. When he saw them, he gestured for them to have a seat at his table as well. Tauriel was glad that the only empty spots were far enough from Ironfoot that conversation with him would be difficult. She was not sure how well she would have dealt with his too sharp insights with wine addling her brain and adversarial stares wracking her nerves.

In fact, she suspected that under these circumstances even eating would prove difficult and was thus surprised to find her appetite intact when Kíli pushed a full plate towards her. After living on meager rations for weeks, how could she have turned down the opportunity of proper food? Especially good food, which this, despite being a little more on the savory side than she was used to, definitely was.

So focused was she on enjoying every single bite of the rich meal that she nearly jumped in surprise when a large tankard was placed before her with enough force to send some of its contents spilling onto the table. Ale, from the yeasty smell of it.

She turned her head to find an older Dwarf standing behind her, his hands braced on his wide hips as he glowered at her from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. "If ye can dine with Dwarves, she-elf, ye might as well drink with them!"

Unsure whether he was shouting at her out of anger or because age had affected his hearing, Tauriel studied first the Dwarf and then the tankard with the sort of bewildered curiosity only Aulë's children seemed capable of eliciting in her. Under the table, Kíli's hand landed on her knee.

"You don't have to, it's not as if they can—"

His voice trailed off as she lifted the tankard to her lips and took a deep gulp. And then another. And another. The ale was bitter and, in comparison to the wine, unrefined in its taste. It also wasn't particularly strong, though, which made it easy to empty the tankard without so much as a grimace. She smacked her lips when she was done. If you managed to look past the bitterness, it was actually nicely refreshing.

When she placed the tankard back on the table and drew the back of her hand across her lips, she found herself met with a room as silent as a grave. She couldn't be sure in the dark vastness of the hall, but she thought she saw a handful of Dwarves standing on the benches to get a better look at her.

"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered to Kíli. Perhaps this had been a test. Perhaps she had violated some obscure Dwarven custom by simply accepting the drink.

Turning her head to look at him, she found him staring at her with the sort of gaze that made her very glad the quarters they were to share with Ruari came with separate bedrooms. Before he had a chance to reply, though, the Dwarf who had presented her with the ale banged his fist on the table. Plates and silverware clattered from the force of the impact.

"I say, the lass can drink!" he boomed. Perhaps that was his normal volume of voice after all. "Bring us another!"

More tankards of ale appeared out of seemingly nowhere to be distributed among those sharing their table. And again, after a toast so crude it made the tips of Tauriel's ears burn, they all drank. Upon the second round, the bitter taste was much less pronounced, she found.

Things became a bit fuzzy after that. But with Kíli's hand on her knee and the Dwarves' attention focused on their ale rather than the Elf in their midst, Tauriel found that she enjoyed herself more than she would have expected.

Several more rounds of ale had been passed around and more cryptic toasts been made when another Dwarf stalked towards their table from somewhere across the hall. With blue eyes and a wavy blond beard hanging down a barrel-shaped chest, this had to be the tallest member of their race Tauriel had ever laid eyes upon. Those blue eyes gleamed with murderous intent and she was glad that it was not her they were focused on but, to her surprise, Ruari.

Ruari sat opposite her and Kíli with his back to the room and did thus not see the stranger approach. Before Tauriel could utter a warning, Ruari had been yanked out of his seat by two strong arms. He stared in visible shock at the other Dwarf and muttered something Tauriel could not hear over the general commotion in the dining hall. The blond dwarf pulled back a fist and punched Ruari in the face.

The ale had slowed her reflexes and Tauriel struggled a bit as she jumped to her feet, eager to help her friend, only to sink back into her seat when, following the punch, the stranger grabbed Ruari by the collar to pull him in for a kiss.

"Eight years," the blond Dwarf growled, holding Ruari at arms length. "Eight years without so much as a word to say whether ye still lived, you bastard."

Before Ruari had a chance to reply, they were kissing again.

Someone in the vicinity whooped. "Get a room, will you?" another voice called.

Tauriel leaned close to Kíli, her eyes fixed on Ruari and his companion. The two Dwarves had broken apart to eye each other warily, both of them breathing heavily.

"Is that. . . a Dwarf woman?"

She had heard tales, of course, of the female counterparts of Dwarves. Of how, to an outsider, they might often be hard to distinguish from their husbands, brothers and sons. However, she would not have imagined the differences to be quite so minimal.

So absorbed she was in mulling over that latest puzzle Durin's kind had presented her with, that she did not at first notice Kíli shaking with laughter beside her.

"What?" she asked, suppressing the impulse to cross her arms in front of her chest and pout. Clearly she had just said something utterly ridiculous, but could, for the life of her, not fathom what.

Kíli shook his head, tears of mirth spilling onto his cheeks. "That is most definitely not a Dwarf woman."

Oh. "Oh." She felt a mortified blush creep up her neck. "Well, how would I know?"

If she sounded a tad bit defensive, Kíli did not fault her for it. Instead he laced his fingers through hers as Ruari and his companion seemed to come to a silent agreement and started to head for the wide double doors. They walked close, but without touching. Still, their journey across the room was accompanied by jeers and several rather too explicit suggestions of what they ought to do once they were alone.

"Don't worry," Kíli said. "Those things can be a bit confusing, I suppose. Remind me later to tell you how I made a fool of myself by admiring what I thought was a pretty elf-maid at Rivendell only to be laughed at because it wasn't, in fact, an elf-maid.

Tauriel gave him a shrewd look. "You have been running around admiring elf-maids for a while then? What am I? Just a number on your list?"

"What? No, I could never—" He recognized the teasing glint in her eye for what it was and gently elbowed her in the ribs when she started to giggle. "Alright, now we've successfully turned me laughing at you into you making fun of me. Everything is as it should be once again."

She caught his arm and tugged it around her waist, sliding a little closer to him. With the general state of drunkenness and excitement all around them, she did not think anyone paid them much attention anymore. "Yes, everything is as it should be indeed." She tipped her head down, inhaled his familiar scent. "Do you think we might risk heading back to our quarters? I would not want to walk in on whatever Ruari needs to sort out with his. . . friend."

The corner of Kíli's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Well, the rooms have doors, don't they?"

When they finally made it to their assigned quarters after agreeing to partake in one last round of drinks, Ruari was nowhere to be seen, the doors to both bedrooms wide open. It was just as well.

They tumbled into the larger of the two rooms in a tangle of limbs and drunken kisses, shutting out the rest of the world with a turn of the key in the lock. And under the heavy drapes of the massive, slightly too short four-poster bed, Tauriel let Kíli take her apart with his hands, his mouth, each brush of his skin on hers a blessing for the part of her that had grown touch-starved during their long days on the road. A star on the horizon, a spark of light in the dark.

After, when they burrowed into their small cocoon of warmth while outside the first winter storms were making their presence known, Tauriel laid for hours with her head on Kíli's chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart. She knew that it wouldn't always be this way, that even if they somehow made it through the dangers ahead of them unscathed, other challenges would be waiting for them in the future. The darkness which had been creeping into Middle-earth for many years now. Their own kin and the opposition their bond would be met with. Her heart sank. Kíli's mortality.

For tonight, though, she pushed those thoughts to the fringes of her mind, pulling up a firm wall to keep them out. For tonight, she would pretend that they were just two lovers who weathered the wrath of a storm within the safety of each other's embrace.

For tonight, she would rest.

A/N: I borrowed Hammerstead, as well as some other place names in this fic, from Lord of the Rings Online.