Helo, dearest readers, things are a bit sad, but maybe our oblivious idiots are starting to get some clue on their feelings.
lovecastle99, thre's more to come!
pallysd'Artagnan, it was not the tracks they wanted to find, but maybe they can lead to more than they expect...
Nenithiel, thank you so much for following and binge reading!
salwyn77, few things are certain is life, but that Kíli is bound to find trouble is one of them!
=^.^=
The dwarf finished his bowl of stew, cleansed in with a bit of bread and put it aside, noticing Tilda barely touched her own food, eyes lost in the flames of their small camp. Where it another times, he would gladly offer to finish her bowl for her, but it was not the matter now.
"Tilda." He called, and then again, a little louder, when no answer came. "Tilda. Are you all right?"
"What?" She glanced up at him, startled. "Sorry, I was… thinking…"
He nodded, acknowledging her need to think but steady in caring for her nourishment.
"Ain't you hungry?" She looked at the bowl in her hands as if it was a novelty, not something she had been fidgeting with for the larger part of an hour. "What bothers you? You've been quiet for some hours already, and I… I'm kind of missing your voice."
The twinkle in his eyes had the purpose of lightening her mood, but he couldn't deny himself his words had a measure of truth.
"I think… I think today was the first time I delved deeper in all that happened, or didn't happen, actually, because I… ran away… and the whys and the hows and…"
She stirred the food in her bowl, searching for words that would clear her mind instead of dumbing it and making her run in circles as it happened all day long.
Kíli took the bowl from her hands, putting it aside and sitting cross-legged in front of her, letting Tilda play with his fingers instead of the food.
"You can talk to me about it, you know. Our situation isn't that different, after all."
The young woman considered his words, consciously, and at another level took in his stance, the rumbling tone of his voice, the openness of his gaze. Opposite to the judging eyes she would expect from anyone out of Lake Town. She breathed deep and opened her heart.
"Da must be at a dire situation to have done this. Even in our poorest days, he would never… never do something that would hurt us in anyway…" Kíli mentally exchanged the last phrase for never sell us away, but bit his tongue, unwilling to make her more revolted. "I… I'm not very much into politics, albeit he's making us to have classes with wiser people. By the way, did you know Mister Balin teaches us diplomacy?"
Kili uplifted his brows, curious.
"No, I didn't. Are relations between Erebor and Dale this good, then?"
"I don't know. If they were this good, we wouldn't need diplomacy classes, would we?"
He snorted, amused, and Tilda couldn't refrain her own giggle. Soon her eyes sombered again, and Kíli's fingers had all her attention once more.
"I know alliances are made, and marriages are often decided on what's better for trade, defence and so on. Sigrid married like it, and was even afraid of her husband and first, because he's, well, I don't know if you've seen him, but he's quite a huge man… But he is a good man, they at least knew each other for almost a year before the arrangement was made." Kíli heard and nodded. He too knew stories like this. Only wasn't comfortable with being part of one. "But what Da chose for me… Kíli, I can't possibly marry a decrepit eighty-eight years old bachelor, can I?"
The number stuck him, too much coincidence to be left alone.
"What's the problem with an eighty-eight years old bachelor? I think I'm a perfectly marriable eighty-eight years old bachelor, or would be, if I weren't a widower, thank you very much!"
His amused tone took away all possible seriousness of his words, effective in making her giggle again.
"The day you convince me you are eighty-eight years old is yet to come, Kíli son of Dís!"
"Good diplomacy classes, but terrible dwarven history and nature classes, I'd say, Tilda daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer!"
The mention of her father's name brought the seriousness back to her face.
"Doesn't matter anymore. I abandoned Da and all duties he counted on me to perform. All classes he provided me are wasted. Everything he expected from me…"
Tears welled from her eyes, and Kíli went on his knees to get closer and be able to reach her face and dry them. The understanding in his hazel-green eyes was all it took for the dam to break, and she wept freely on his shoulder, grabbing his forearms as a life buoy.
Her words and her sobs, the similarity of their situations, and the truth that he was a deserter too, someone who forsook his people and ignored his place, his responsibilities, throwing away everything invested in his training for rulership… It hit him hard. So hard his hands caressing her back were not just to soothe her, but himself too. His comforting words, assuring her it would be all right in due time, were directed at his own fears as well as to hers. No more Kíli son of Dís, the reckless nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, but Kíli the Runaway, the Irresponsible Brat who threw his duties on others' shoulders. Not a beautiful name to embellish his tombstone.
"They had not the right to impose it on you. There's a limit to what duty can claim from you."
"I think so too, Kíli, but… but I know I disappointed Da nonetheless. How will I learn to live with this shame?"
"I… I don't know. I'll have to learn it myself, I deem."
Soothing circles drawn on her back with his hands, her fingers on his forearms like a kitten pawing a pillow to sleep.
"Tilda…"
"Hmm?"
"It might be better if you lay down to sleep. You'll wake up stiff if you don't."
"Oh…" She conceded in a sleepy voice, realising he should be uncomfortable for being so long in that position. "Sorry, you must be in pain…"
"No, not really, I feel no pain after my legs go numb…"
"Wha… Kíli, I'm so sorry, I…"
"Hush, I was kidding. Now go to your bedroll. I'll keep watch."
"Wake me up when you're tired, will ya?"
"I will." He lied.
The woman took her bedroll and spread it near the fire, her head close to Kíli's once again crossed legs.
"Good night, Kíli."
"Good night, Tilda. Sleep well."
She closed her eyes and dropped into sleep almost immediately, the calm rhythm of her breath showing nothing of the turmoil in her chest.
Kíli watched, ears keen on any sound from the forest, eyes set on her peaceful face, pondering how would it be like to watch that face for a longer time, for longer days, for longer years. And why couldn't the bride arranged for him be as sweet, witty and also fierce, like Tauriel.
Or like Tilda.