I stayed up way too late to get this out to you guys *crying* But it's okay because I love you and I want you to be happy. *cries harder*


Chapter 24: Beads

The sound of laughter and clapping, guffawed insults and backhanded encouragement traveled over the rocky hillside and through the trees. The one thing that dwarves knew to do right was heaving heavy objects around in (typically) pointless feats of brawn. In this aspect, we preferred our friends to have much the same tendencies.

"LIFT IT HIGHER, YOU WEE LAD!" Dwalin bellowed, and I heard the pathetic little whimper that Bilbo let out even from the distance of the woods beyond.

For our part, Fili and I had slipped away, staving off the inevitable conversation with my brothers for one moment longer. The woods around the rock that the eagles had dropped us offered a variety of game which all of us trapped with enthusiasm, our stomachs unbearably empty. There was also a small stream that ran a bit down at the base of the slope, gurgling and happy, the water frigid but welcome.

For a moment, we would enjoy the simplicity of being far enough away from the bloodthirsty hunt of wargs and orcs that we didn't have to watch the treeline too intently nor extinguish our fires to stave off attention. Even now, I could see the great fire that we had built casting merry light through the trees, the other dwarves content to eat the hog that had been caught earlier that evening, boasting about who could lift Dwalins massive war hammer higher.

Content, I thought, sinking down into the crevice Fili's created for me between his legs, his body a warm, welcome comfort around mine. I was so unbearably content.

Fili's legs were warm and strong as if Mahal had built him perfectly to cradle me, his calves strong as they pressed lightly into my sides and arms, his thighs a tempting invitation to rest my head on. Sitting here like this, his scent was all around me, fresh and dewy from the bath in the stream. I sighed at the gentle way he tugged at my hair, his fingers sure and methodical as they combed through each freshly cleaned strand, my hair still damp.

"Tell me about what you did when I left," I whispered into the dusk, watching the sun dip just beneath the ridge of the mountains beyond. His fingers worked at the beads that held my braids intact.

In a dwarf's life, each event, each person that you come across that is important and meaningful can choose to give you a bead. But until you meet your one, your family are the only people that can wind those beads into your hair. It meant something - for your accomplishments and moments of honor and love to be wound into your hair by the people who loved you the most. That's why it was one of the steps in a courtship - a moment where another person was added to the people that could touch your life as your family did.

A low, rich laugh rumbled from him, his breath ruffling the hairs at the tip of my head as he leaned a bit closer. "You want to know about my life in the mountain?"

"Of course," I breathed, tipping my head back, back, back until I could finally see the gentle, sun-dappled skies of his eyes. He took my very breath away, the bold tip of his brows and mischievous edges to his lips. My voice was hoarse when I finally spoke again, words raw with the weight of my own devotion to him. "I want to know everything about you."

His fingers stilled in my hair, silver striking through the blue in shocked awe. I couldn't fathom how this man would ever be surprised that anyone adored him. He was… Mahal, the depth of my emotions was dangerously deep. A bemused, confused smile curled his lips, his hands sliding through the mass of my hair to cradle my head gently. My breath stuttered out of me as he leaned down, his lips pressing softly to my own in silent praise - as if he was thanking me for my words.

It was a gentle, slow kiss, all slow breaths against each other, his hair falling around my face, my own hair tangled into his fingers. My fingers reached out, moving blindly to keep hold of something and finding the thick leather and fur of his boots. He drew back for a moment, my head spinning as he took a deep steadying breath, trying to collect himself before he caught my lower lips again. And then my top before drawing back and taking my lips again, his tongue pressing slowly along mine as if he wanted to drag the moment on forever.

When he finally pulled back enough to meet my eyes again, I was panting, flushed, and entirely lost. What had we been talking about?

"I thought about you," he murmured, and I blinked up at him in confusion, his hands still cradling my head gently, his eyes all bottomless blue. I had asked him about… I drew in a sharp breath. "I thought about what it would have been like if you had stayed. I thought about the things I would have given you when I finally courted you. I thought about the way you laughed." His eyes softened, rolling into the deepest azure. "I thought about the way that you cried. I thought about all the times you had ran and screamed and fought-"

"You don't need to flatter me," I whispered out hoarsely, shock running sharp lines through my stomach and spine. His eyes twinkled down at me as he took in my guarded bewilderment. "You didn't spend 50 years-"

"I spent 20," he clarified, that wicked smile of his curling up crookedly, leaning a bit more back so that he could take in every minuscule tick that traveled over my expression. "The first 30, I was thinking about how annoying you were. How could one little dwarf cause so much drama from so far away?"

I huffed out an outraged laugh, slapping at his ankles as that crooked smile turned to a grin. He rolled his eyes gamely, as if he was remembering the exasperations. "Letter after letter, and all Dori and Ori could talk about was how great their little sister. Can you imagine every single meal filled with just your name over and over again? And then - Mahal - the fanfare at every new delivery."

"Was my poor prince irked that the attention wasn't on him?" I teased, unable to help the swell of warmth at the image of my brothers those years I had been gone. I had been so worried that they had hated me…

Fili's brows dropped, that smirk sliding away as his expression slammed into mock seriousness. "Yes," he answered bluntly, tugging at the mass of my hair in gentle reprimand. "A young prince, and I couldn't even get my own people to care that I had won every single fight I had been in for that last decade. It was humiliating."

"My poor, traumatized prince," I hummed, reaching a hand up to drag along the soft scruff at his jaw, watching as his eyes fluttered shut and leaned into my touch. My heart felt like it would burst.

"My wayward, whimsical girl," he murmured in return, the words so soft that I would have probably missed them if I hadn't felt the movement of his lips against my palm as he turned his head to press a kiss there.

His hands were gentle but firm as they forced me to look ahead once more, my hand dropping slowly to my side, the skin of my palm still tingling. His fingers began to unwind the mess of my curls once more.

Fili's voice was a low, soothing drawl as he continued on, his hands moving, tugging at my hair, massaging at my scalp in a way that made my lids droop. I heard the metal and jewel beads clink against the rock beside him in a steadily growing pile.

"You're right," he admitted, resuming his story and I struggled to keep my eyes open as he continued. "There were many things for a prince to do. Many lessons to attend. Many meetings to keep. And then there were the matches that my cousins tried to force onto me."

My eyes snapped open, all drowsiness flying from me at the words. "Matches?"

"Matches," he repeated, and I heard the smile in his voice. He had taken out all my beads and was starting to comb through my hair, the fresh scent of olive oil mixed with the softer scent of fresh-cut flowers filling the air. I didn't normally take care of my hair like this - the curls were normally tangled and gnarled, frizzy, and filled with muck. I had no idea when he had picked up such things, nor how he knew that hair that curled as much as mine needed to be soaked with oils. "Luckily, dwarves only have one love in their lifetime so no marriages were forced. But my relatively certainly paraded enough eligible matches in front of me."

The thought of Fili talking to another person as he did to me left me feeling physically sick, my stomach rolling. I burrowed a bit farther back into the shelter of his legs.

"Who braided your hair before…" I didn't know how to end that question. Before me felt like an overstep somehow, an embarrassing thing to proclaim when I hadn't touched his hair yet.

"Before you," he started out boldly, and I flushed, feeling exposed even as my insides warmed, squirming in delight. "My mother was the one to put beads into my hair. Kili's absolutely horrid when it comes to braiding. He fumbles around like an animal forced to knit."

I snorted at the image of Kili, face slack with horrified bewilderment as he tangled Fili's hair so badly that they would have to shear off chunks.

"She liked you, you know," he said casually, and my heart slammed into my throat, anxiety twisting my insides. I could feel him slowly beginning to wind bead after bead into whatever braid he was making.

"She doesn't-" I swallowed, paling at the thought of meeting her. Meeting the king's sister - a halfling thinking herself high enough to enter a courtship with her son. Panic climbed it's way up my insides, squeezing onto every organ on its way to my tongue. "She doesn't even know me."

Fili was silent for a long moment, working with practiced ease.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft roll. "She listened to every single one of your letters." The news shot a bolt of unadulterated terror through me. I would kill Dori. "She would talk to me about it - talk to me about how brave she thought you were. And when I still had my head up my own ass, I would argue with her. She couldn't possibly have beat two trolls when she was rescuing Nori-" He mimicked himself before his voice rose in an imitation of his mother. "And why couldn't she, Fili? Hm? Why couldn't she? You sound like a sexist pig. Go spar with Dwalin. You're making me ill with your unintelligence."

A shocked bark of laughter burst from me at the words, my hand slapping over my mouth as I imagined the astounded expression that must have gaped his mouth at his mother's words.

He leaned down, his breath hot against the shell of my ear, and I could have sworn that I felt the tilt of his lips as he watched me laugh. "And she was right." He tipped forward to lay a soft kiss on the crown of my head and I melted, laughter suddenly hard to draw breath for. "I was angry and dumb, and an irritated little boy trying to understand why someone I thought should have never crossed my mind kept staying there." My heart squeezed. He was right. He should have never thought of me. I wasn't… I wasn't a princess. There was a brief pause as he threaded the last of my beads. He tugged my hair back, beginning the process of winding a bigger, thicker cluster of braids. "And when I finally stopped being an imbecile, we talked about you together. I would tell her about the letters that she missed in the halls and she would take out this giant map and we would see where you were."

My insides felt like they were being pressed into a pulp, the image of his mother and him curled over a map, tracking me too overwhelming to fully take in. They had… My mind spun around and around, lighting on that image again and again - a secret vignette inside the passages of my heart.

"Done," he murmured finally in Khuzdul, dragging the thick coil of hair over my shoulder, one hand going to massage reassuringly at my nape.

I brought a hand out to run along the braid, loving the smooth texture. The stands didn't feel too tight, flared out in a way that made me think that he had simply pulled the hair through over and over again. And wound into those were smaller, more intricate braids, looped through with beads.

"I have more than I did," I murmured absently, running a hand over them once more as I counted again.

"Only a few," he agreed absently, and I blinked up at him in astonishment, taking in the loss of two or so braids in his own hair. He gave me a slow, wicked smile, reaching out to touch at one at the very end of my braid. I brought it up, catching a glimpse of the intricate runes. I gasped at the crunched script, turning a panicked look back to him.

"You can't give me this," I hissed, my hands already going up to take it down and give it back to him. He caught my hands deftly, brows raising.

"Are you rejecting my courtship?" I drawled, his head tipping to the side, the golden waves of his hair ruffling slightly in the breeze.

I spluttered, cheeks reddening. What a stupid question. He knew what he was doing. "That isn't just a courtship gift, Fili," I huffed out, and that smirk of his grew a fraction more at the panicked reddening of my skin. "Those are your family's runes. This is the bead of a prince of Durin's line-"

"You're now the bride of a prince of Durin's line so I hardly see how this is unacceptable." His eyes ran over me slowly as I fought for an objection. He was… he was right. But-

"This is too much," I breathed, and that smile on his face became pensive, his brows dipping as the hand grasping my nape began to run slowly, absent lines along my shoulders and back. His other arm hung loosely over his thigh, his body tipped to the side so that he could see me fully.

His eyes swirled, lighting, warming to a near-burning blue as he gazed down at me. "I would dress you in my furs. I would make you necklaces and earrings and bracelets and rings all with my runes on them if I could, Tori." His gaze was inescapable. Slowly, he leaned forward until I could feel his breath against my lips, his nose grazing my own. "I've waited too long to let anyone else get within ten feet of you and not realize that you're mine."

My insides lit up, down to the tips of my toes. I felt a little dizzy from how quickly my breaths were coming. He was telling me to truth, of course, he was. I thought about another person coming close to Fili and thinking that they could start courting him. I thought of them touching him in the ways that I wanted to. Hot, acidic jealousy ate away at my insides. I suddenly wished that I had more to give him - anything to fend even a fraction of the people that would want to marry him away.

His smile curved along my lips as he saw the understanding dawn in my eyes. "Glad we understand each other, amrul."


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