A.N: Helo, dearest readers, things begin to get dark from here on, be warned. Actually, I believe this to be one of the darkest chapters of this whole story.
Thanks for the continued support to Mizz Alec Volturi, Celebrisilweth, Mustard Lady, The Other Writer Girl and Ice Dancer 2157, and welcome to the party, Witty Nickname and Ice Dancer 2157!
*Hides behind a tree waiting for the stones to be thrown*
=^.^=
The day was unusually hot for autumn and the result of a hard day's march was felt on their skins, even if riding. The horses were sweaty and tired, too, and the creek crossing the path was an unaccounted for blessing.
"Refill waterskins?"Asked Tilda, whipping a loose strand of hair from her brow and bringing Broda to a halt.
"Sure, but more." Kíli was already dismounting and moving his hands to unsaddle Tripsy. "Late enough in the afternoon to make camp. The horses are tired, we are too hot…"
The word hot left his mouth the same moment Tilda slid off her mount, her buttocks almost grazing his face as he tried to help the young woman he already knew needed no-one's help.
"Aye, to this I must agree!"
Her cloak fell to the ground beside the horse of Rohan, the sigil of Dale forgotten on behalf of a stream of fresh water. Kíli threw the cloak over his shoulder and followed Tilda to the creek.
"Tilda, we're making camp here for tonight, aye? No need to hurry."
"I'm too hot, Kíli, can't you see?"
She turned back to him, untying her gown and peeling it from her body like a distasteful thing. Which it probably was, considering the amount of sweat and dust it gathered along the last couple days, but Kíli wasn't prepared to see Tilda in her underware again so soon, considering the first and last time it was solely to prevent her garment to get soaked in the forest river. Not that the sight of her in wet undergown didn't do crazy things to his mind. Not only his mind, actually, as another part of his anatomy reminded him.
"Aye, I… I see… I see…"
The splash of water surprised him, because last time he checked Kíli was kind of thirty feet from the creek, worn boots in place, leather bracers and mail too, and now his bare feet felt the smoothness of the river stones and the coolness of water caressing his skin.
He lifted his eyes from the water to find her form showing underneath wet fabric.
"I'm not afraid of water, Tilda! Stop it, would ya?"
She laughed, the crystal laughter that made him crave for more.
"And what are you afraid of, then?"
Tilda spread her hands to him, baring them in an offering of peace.
Kíli reached out for the offered hands, holding each one of them like a special treasure.
"I'm not afraid, Tilda, it's just that… that you…"
All Tilda was before him crumbled to a tiny figure, wild eyed in awe of him and his companions coming out of a wooden toilette in Bard's house at Lake Town. Her nervous hands held a ragdoll and her shrill voice questioned:
"Did you come to bring me luck?"
His hands retreated, unable to touch the little girl.
"I… I can't touch you, Tilda, I can't! You're just a child, I could never…" He stammered at the horror of the idea. "It… it would be wrong, Tilda, I cannot…"
The child disappeared and the woman was before him again, young and beautiful. She took his hands and brought him closer, making said hands to touch her body.
"I was a child, Kíli, I am no more. Look at me!"
He obliged, taking in the sight of her curvilinear shape, full breasts daring him from under the thin fabric of her undergown. The water she had soaked in tricked it to an indecent transparency, and Kíli forced himself to look at her eyes again.
"I shouldn't…"
He started to protest, but she insisted.
"If you can't look, then touch me, Kíli. Learn with your skin that I'm not a child anymore."
Saying so, Tilda took a step forward, bringing his hands to her breasts, to her torso, to the curve of her hips. Kíli bit his lower lip and gave in, holding her tight, running his hands along her back, her buttocks, her hair, burying his face in her neck, breathing in the female scent of her skin. Hesitantly, he traced her jawline with his tongue, anxious on how she would react, but the moan that escaped her lips sent his fears to Mordor.
His hands were firm on Tilda's body, bringing warmth to her wet skin. Wet and warm were also her lips, parting gently to let him invade with an insolent tongue. She shuddered when Kíli bit her lower lip, carding his hair, his scrub tickling her sensible skin.
"Tilda, I really shouldn't…"
He tried to protest, only to be silenced by Tilda.
"I'm not a child Kíli, look at me!" He lifted his eyes to hers, obeying the urge in her voice. "I'm a woman, and you should."
This was said like an order, and Kíli kissed said order back into her mouth. A couple of steps brought them back to the grassy meadow beside the creek, where they sat in contented expectation.
"What more should I?"
"What more are you able to?"
"Whatever you want."
"I want it all."
Tilda crashed her lips to his again, running her hand from his side to his hip and the string of his trousers, making sure it was clear what all meant. Kíli took the chance to strip off his shirt, spreading it on the ground to keep away the tickle of the grass, if not the discomfort of the hard forest ground.
"You shouldn't stay in wet clothes, you may catch a cold."
His concern was real, despite other implications of the statement.
"I'd rather catch something hot." Tilda answered with a mischievous smile.
Kíli kissed her again, savouring her lips as the most inebriating wine, caressing her body without the restraints of the undergown. Propped on his elbow he was able to touch her and kiss without imposing his weight on her slender frame, and to enjoy the sight of the shivers he sent through her body with every kiss.
"Should I…?" He inquired in a whisper to her ear.
"I told you already, Kíli!"
"I must be sure if you want…"
"I want, I want it all!" She moaned and Kíli let his hand slid along her curves. "I want it all you have to give me, Kíli, I want to be a woman with you, for you!"
It was his turn to moan at the prospect. They kissed some more until Tilda stopped and held his gaze.
"Are you all right?" Questioned Kíli.
"A bit…" She hesitated. "A bit… afraid, I guess… I… I never…"
Kíli understood, and took in a deep breath. No doubt a virgin human woman would be afraid.
"Tilda, you don't have to. Nor to be afraid, nor to do… whatever you have in mind. We are free to stop any moment you decide so, all right?"
She heard the earnestness in his voice and nodded. But something in her was stronger than her fear, for the time being.
"I don't want to stop. Not yet. Anyway… can we make it… slowly?"
Her hesitancy brought a comprehensive smile to his lips.
"We can take any amount of time you wish, Tilda. And whenever… and I mean whenever… you want me to stop, I'll stop. Right on the spot. Like a stone carving."
She heaved sigh, relieved. He misunderstood it.
"We can stop right now, if it is what you wish."
"No!" She replied too fast. "No…" She said again, softer, reaching to touch his stubble beard. "Right now, I want more. Please."
He leaned in to kiss her again, and let his hand wind down her curves, from her chin to her throat to her breast, enjoying the sensation of her breath getting faster under his mouth. His hand went further down, waist and hips and more.
Tilda broke the kiss to breath and Kíli nibbled at her earlobe. Her breath hitched and he fell still.
"No, don't stop!" She complained.
"D'you like it?" He hurried to ask.
"Feels… good…" Tilda managed to whisper between her hitched breaths. "Want… more…"
"Don't wanna hurt you…"
She had other ideas, though.
"Has to happen…" Tilda replied, short of breath and shiny eyes staring at him. "Wanna be a whole woman with you, Kíli, nothing less." She cupped his face and moved her hips to make her point. "Can't hurt more than mooncycle cramps, and will be only the first time."
Only the first time… Kíli's hearth jumped in his chest, because it meant she wanted more – more than once, more than just today. And she said she wanted to be a woman with him. Of all people, with him.
Kíli just felt the luckiest of dwarves.
He felt his skin melt to hers, her scent invading his nostrils. A loud moan escaped his lips.
"Did I hurt you?" Tilda stopped and questioned, wide eyed.
"No, I… so good…"
It was her time to show concern.
"I don't wanna hurt you, Kíli, I want to make you feel good like others… like other ones did…"
He felt the weight of her words like an anvil on his shoulders, but he was glad to open up. If he was her first, it was only fair that she knew that…
"There was none." He mumbled in her ear, asking himself if he should be ashamed. Most males, of every race he knew, boasted on having had sex with as many females they were able. Not that he believed everything they told, but…
"None?"
Her hands cupped his face, making him look into her eyes. There was curiosity, innocence, and hope.
"None." Was his earnest answer, pouring all his feeling in that word. "You'll be my first."
"Then how…" She stumbled on the idea. "How do you know how to… to…"
She blushed, but Kíli felt his own face flush with the question.
"I've heard about it." He looked away. "I… I'll try to… to do it the best I can on what I heard… I… I'm sorry, Tilda, I'm not as experienced as you deserve, I don't want to hurt you, I want to make it right."
Tilda breathed in and smiled.
"I want to make it right, too. If I only make it as good as you are making to me…"
And good it was, her gentle touch, her soft hand on his skin. He kissed her eagerly, hoping to distract her from any bad thought, but she seemed to be fine right now. It was hard to think with all the stimuli he was getting from touching her and being touched.
Tilda broke the kiss, arching her back. Kíli took the clue and kissed her neck and down. Her moans indicated he was in the right path to make her his.
To move further was only natural, all of him eager to make Tilda his own. She said she wanted him, and he believed. There was no taking back.
She moaned, and he continued.
She cried, and he continued.
She called his name, and there was angst in her voice.
"What?"
Kíli opened his eyes and faced a crying Tilda, tears rolling down her beautiful face.
"Kíli, look at me!"
He heeded her plea, stunned by the hitch of her voice.
Her hair was dishevelled, her face a mess of tears.
His disbelieving eyes ran over her torso, bites and bruises where his teeth and hands were ungentle marring her fair skin.
"Tilda, what…"
She pushed his shoulders up, rough.
"Look at me! Kíli, look at me!"
He obeyed, already scared by what he saw on her face and little bellow. And he gapped.
Propped on his arms and looking at where their bodies met, all Kíli could see was a mess. Her milky skin was bruised and… bloodied…
He moved away from her with a jerk, earning a cry of pain as reward. His wide eyes stated the misery his lust resulted, blood everywhere he was caressing carefully just moments before… how could he…
"No… No…"
Her blood soaked the clothes beneath them, and he knew the soil would be marred too. He looked up at her face, guilt a knot in his throat, and her eyes turned glassy as life left them like her blood left her body due to his actions.
"No… Tilda, no…"
He pleaded with her lifeless form, hot tears welling in his eyes. It was not fair, it was not right, he never meant to hurt her, all he wanted was to make love to her, to love her, and now…
"Mahal smite me!"