I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (Just the AU storyline and my OC). Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fanfics would not be in existence.
For those who missed the announcement last chapter (or newcomers) I AM A PUBLISHED AUTHOR! You can find my historical novel, Amazing Grace, by searching "Amazing Grace Amanda Longpre' " at your favorite retailer (for brick and mortar stores and libraries, you may need to order it online). The ebook version on smashwords DOT com, iBooks, kobo, etc is compatible with all e-readers, and the print version is available on amazon DOT com for US readers (kindle on Amazon as well), and Book Depository for non-US readers ? It is rated 5 stars by all but one reader so far (4 stars for that one), and reviews on it would be much appreciated! I would like to know what you think! ?
Lastly, major apologies to my faithful readers. Life has thrown me a curveball this winter, and ever since September (when I had strep and tonsillitis at the same time for three weeks and both for the first time ever) I've caught every nasty seasonal bug that's gone around and been sick all winter long -_- Illness-induced brain fog stinks, and it left me unable to write (both professionally for my next novel and this fic). I hope this new chapter makes up for it, and apologies for being a bit rusty ?
As always, please review, favorite, and follow (this story)-it is really encouraging ?
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The embers burned low, their meager light barely illuminating the dark forest around them. Kili reached over and added another log, before heading toward the sleeping young woman. Gently shaking her shoulder, he whispered into her ear.
"Time for watch," he said quietly, mindful of the other sleeping members of the company. She stirred with a slight murmur, before looking up at him with sleepy blue eyes.
"Watch?" she asked, still obviously half-asleep. He nodded.
"Yes," he replied, "We have watch now." The young woman slowly sat up, before yawning. Kili stood up and offered his hand to her. Cirashala grasped it, before rising to her feet.
"The fire?" she asked even as she turned toward it. The young dwarf nodded.
"I took care of it," he reassured her. She looked into the flames for a moment, before turning and picking up her bow and sword. Kili already had his weapons, and he led her over to a fallen log on the edge of their camp.
The pair sat down on the dark log, and Kili unsheathed his sword and began to sharpen it as he usually did. She took hers out as well and tried to copy his movements as best she could. For several minutes, the only sound to be heard was the gentle scraping of the whetstones against the polished metal.
Kili kept glancing at her, his mind reeling a bit at the unexpected revelation from earlier. He knew she was no dwarf, or thought he did…until he remembered what happened in Meril's village.
That man had tried to shave her…why would he do that if she had no hair on her face?
He thought about what she had said to the group earlier.
She has hair on her jaws and upper lip, and her mother had facial hair as well. He glanced at her again. The young dwarf's gaze discreetly roamed over her face, before landing on her jawline. His eyes widened. It wasn't much, and it was very, very blonde and difficult to discern against her pale cheeks, but it was there.
The young woman did indeed have some hair on her face.
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Cirashala was troubled as she sharpened her sword. The dwarves' questions about her family had unknowingly brought up memories of her past-memories that she had desperately tried to forget. As each one surfaced, she immediately repressed it, not wishing to experience the pain again. She was so focused on her task that she hadn't realized Kili's hand had stilled. She about jumped out of her skin as his hand suddenly rested on her own, abruptly ceasing her movements.
"If you keep sharpening it that way, it will become useless," he said quietly. She looked up at him in confusion, before looking back down at her sword.
"What do you mean?" she asked. Kili pointed to the sharp edge of her sword.
"Look at the edge," he instructed, "where you sharpened it." Cirashala looked closely, before looking back up at him.
"I don't see anything," she replied, completely bewildered. He gently reached over and tilted the edge of her sword upwards, taking care to make sure that it didn't cut either one of them.
"Look closely," he said. The young woman peered even closer at it, still not seeing the issue.
"I don't see anything," she repeated, and he shook his head. Pointing toward the edge, he carefully traced just above it with his finger.
"See how my finger moves?" he asked. She watched his finger closely as it moved along the edge. It was incredibly subtle, but she finally saw it.
"It's not straight," she said slowly. "Your finger…it's moving up and down, not flat." Kili nodded.
"Yes," he confirmed. "You weren't moving the stone straight, and it caused some grooves in your edge." He looked her in the eye.
"I know you can barely see them," he said, his tone serious. "But if you are attacked, those tiny grooves can easily catch your opponent's sword, and they can twist it right out of your hands." Cirashala swallowed heavily, before looking back down at her sword.
"I ruined it, didn't I?" she asked. Kili chuckled, and she looked up at him even more confused than before.
"You didn't ruin it," he said, amusement in his gaze. "You can easily sharpen those grooves out. Like this." He scooted closer to her and reached around her shoulders. Taking her hands in his own, he drew the whetstone over the edge of the sword in slow, deliberate motions.
"If you go very slowly," he whispered in her ear, "you can smooth it out again." He guided her hands for a couple of minutes, before gently releasing them.
"Now you try," he said quietly. She tried to move her hands the same way he had.
"Like this?" she asked, turning toward him. Her nose nearly collided with his, and her eyes widened considerably as she realized just how close he was to her. The young dwarf stiffened as his own eyes grew very wide, and she was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that his arm was still around her.
And judging by the panicked look on his face, so was he.
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Kili froze. His breath hitched in his throat, and for a brief moment he was unable to move. His heart seemingly tried to pound its way out of his chest, and the butterflies in his stomach raged about with the intensity of a hurricane. A log shifted suddenly in the fire as it settled, and he immediately released her and scooted backward as though the very dragon were after him.
"S-s-sor-sorry," he stammered, narrowly avoiding falling off the opposite end of the short log all together. His face and ears grew very, very hot and he turned away from her lest she see it. He could not hide his ears subtly though, and he silently cursed at himself for them turning crimson as well. She seemed equally startled as he was, judging by the surprised look on her face.
He hadn't meant to be so close to her. He was simply trying to show her how to correct her sharpening skills the same way Thorin had shown him when he was but a lad.
It was the day Kili received his first real sword. Up until that point, he had used a wooden training sword lest he unwittingly injure himself or others. It was a very important day for all dwarf lads, and his mother had dressed him in the finest tunic and trousers she was able to afford. She had spent months diligently sewing and embroidering the Crest of the Raven on the breast of the tunic, the crest of the Line of Durin.
Fili had received his own real sword five years prior, as he was the eldest and Thorin's crown prince. He had spent the better part of a month trying to teach Kili all about the importance of a dwarf's first sword, how to care for it, how to use it, and in general acting far more like an expert than the young dwarfling actually was at the time.
Kili distinctly remembered the moment he first held it. All the dwarves of Ered Luin had been summoned to the Great Hall, and there were rows upon rows of dwarves dressed in their best clothing. Lords and ladies were seated at the front, with commoners toward the back, as was custom. Dain had also sent an envoy from his kingdom as well, as today would mark not only Kili's first sword, but also his place behind Fili as Thorin's second heir.
Outside of Dain and his people and their own, no one knew of either Kili or Fili and their relation to Thorin, and Thorin had wanted to keep it that way. He knew that the throne in Erebor lay dormant under the belly of a fire-breathing dragon, and he also knew that Ered Luin was not nearly as secure as the great halls of Erebor. Until their people were able to reclaim the Mountain and restore their kingdom, Fili and Kili would be at risk to those who would unseat Thorin permanently.
Thorin's people, and Dain's as well, knew that the penalty for any dwarf revealing their relation to Thorin and Dis as well was an excruciating, long-suffering, humiliating death. Their mother had, unfortunately, already been named a Princess of the Line of Durin when she had been born in Erebor, so her relation to Thorin was already known to the other races and dwarf kingdoms of Middle-earth. But her sons' relation to him (and herself outside of Ered Luin) would remain a secret until Erebor was reclaimed and theirs once again.
Their mother's marriage had also been kept secret from the other races, as it happened after Erebor had fallen. Fili and Kili could truthfully say that they were the sons of Fildár and no one outside of their people and Dain's people would know they were also related to Thorin. So whenever they had gone outside of Thorin's Halls, they went by their father's lineage and not their mother and uncle's, and no one was the wiser.
Kili remembered how his heart pumped as he walked down the long center aisle. Thorin stood at the end of it, with his heir Fili to his right and their mother Dis to his left. Dwalin and Balin stood nearby, the former being Thorin's bodyguard and latter acting as a second one for the ceremony. No one was able to wear a crown or circlet-Smaug had ensured that-but the crest on Thorin, Fili and Kili's tunics would have to do. Dis had done her hair up very ornately, if lacking in jewels befitting a princess. She did not need the jewels though-her mere presence was one of the Line of Durin, and no one would ever question that she was Thror's granddaughter.
Kili knelt at the front, and Thorin took the leather-wrapped sword from what sufficed as a throne and stood before Kili. His uncle had spoken the usual Khuzdul words, and Kili responded as rehearsed, and the sword was placed in his hands. Had they been in Erebor, a circlet signifying Kili's place in the line of succession would have been placed atop his head, but all in attendance knew the sword would have to suffice under the circumstances.
The young prince had stood up then, and faced the crowd as his formal title, Kili son of Dis daughter of Thrain son of Thror, Prince of Erebor and heir to Thorin, King Under the Mountain was announced. This sword was his and his alone, and he must care for it like the warriors of old.
He remembered Thorin teaching him how to sharpen it. His uncle would sit behind him and guide his small hands in his own. Circle after circle, bit of oil after bit of oil, the sword would grow sharper. Its steel would shine brightly in the candlelight, its edge become thinner, its bite deadlier. The telltale sign of a fully sharpened sword was its ability to slice through bone like butter, and if it wasn't done correctly it would be very, very dangerous for him who wielded it.
It took several weeks before Kili finally mastered the art of sharpening the blade well. And it was a skill that would serve him well many years later on a certain journey to reclaim their homeland.
"I-it's all right." The quiet voice broke the young dwarf from his thoughts, and he slowly turned toward her, face filled with shame.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I-I was just trying to show you—" The young woman interrupted him.
"I know," she reassured. "And I thank you for it." She glanced down at the sword.
"I would rather it be done right," Cirashala said firmly, before looking back up at him. "Especially if lives depend on it." Her gaze was one of determination, and he nodded.
"It is better that it is done right or not at all," he agreed. She turned back toward the sword began to sharpen it again. Kili's mind went to the hair on her jaw and the conversation that prompted it.
"Cira?" he asked quietly. She looked up at him, and he swallowed heavily.
"I'm sorry for we said," he apologized. "I-I know you're not a dwarf." She nodded.
"I told you I wasn't one," she said quietly, and he nodded.
"I believe you," he said. She looked up at him in surprise.
"You do?" she asked. "I-it didn't seem like anyone did." Kili sighed.
"I-it's just…" he began, unsure of how to put it. "You see, we've-we've never met a human girl who has hair on her face before. And human girls, they-they're much taller than I am." Cirashala looked at him in surprise.
"You mean you've never met any human girls as small as I am?" she asked. Kili shook his head.
"No," he replied. "Never. Not adult women, at least. And I doubt the others have either." Cirashala sighed.
"I just don't understand why you all thought I was a dwarf," she said quietly. "I am only twenty-six, and my mother was only twenty-three when I was born." Kili nodded.
"And your hands and feet are too small," he added, looking down at them. Cirashala looked up at him in surprise.
"They're not any shorter than yours," she pointed out. "I think our feet are the same length, or darn close to it." Kili shook his head.
"Perhaps," he stated, "but yours are far more slender." He gently grasped her wrist and held his other hand up to hers. His dwarf fingers weren't any longer, but they were quite a bit thicker. He let her hand go.
"I knew you weren't a dwarf because your hands, feet, and ears are much smaller," he explained, before his gaze moved to her jaw. "I just…I am not sure why you have a beard, that's all. I don't understand it." Cirashala shrugged.
"That's not really much of a beard," she stated, shaking her head. Kili's eyes grew wide, before his gaze dropped down to his lap.
"People say the same about mine," he said sadly. Her eyes widened, and she reached over and placed her hand on his.
"That's not what I meant," she said quietly. He looked up at her.
"I know," he replied, "but if mine is still a beard, then so is yours." Her hand went up to her jawline, before resting in her lap.
"I don't have any dwarf blood in me," she said firmly. "I-my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother weren't dwarves, and my grandmother went even further back than that. I don't know why I am so short, or why my mother and uncle were, but nowhere in my family line was there ever a dwarf."
"What about your father's family?" Kili asked. Cirashala stiffened, and he saw her knuckles turn white as they gripped the whetstone.
"Not there either," she said, her voice now very tense. Kili's eyes grew wide, not expecting her tone.
"Cira?" he asked, concern replacing curiosity. "Are you all right?" He reached out and gently touched her arm. She immediately gasped and flinched away. The young woman's eyes grew very wide as they looked up, and he saw fear flit through the blue orbs. It was only there for a second, and he grew even more concerned.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, clarity returning to her eyes once more. Kili stared at her in shock, before his face fell.
"Cira, I would never hurt you," he said quietly, hurt in his voice. "Why did you flinch away from me?" The young woman shut her eyes tightly, and he was startled to see a lone tear trickle down her cheek.
"I-I know," she said shakily. "It's not you, i-it's…." She looked up at him, and he could see vulnerability in her gaze.
"Can we please stop talking about my family?" she asked. Her voice sounded so small, and he grew very concerned.
"Of course," he immediately replied. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"It's not your fault," she interrupted. "You didn't know." Kili looked at her, before looking at the dark forest ahead.
"Why does it have to be so dark?" Cirashala asked sadly after a few minutes of silence. She looked up at the leaf-filled canopy above. "Why aren't there any stars?" Kili followed her gaze, before looking back at her.
"The stars are always there," he replied quietly. "Even when we cannot see them." She fingered the ring on her left hand.
"I used to wish on them," she said sadly. "I would wish that things were different, that my parents weren't...the way they were, that my sisters would be kind to me." She looked up at him.
"I envy you," she said honestly. His eyes grew wide.
"Me?" he asked in surprise. "Why would you envy me?" She glanced over at the sleeping Fili.
"You and your brother are close," she explained. "You are best friends and can tell each other anything. Right?" Kili glanced fondly at his brother, and nodded.
"Aye," he replied, before looking back at her. "Weren't your close to your brothers and sisters?" She shook her head.
"I don't have any brothers," she replied. Kili's eyes widened in surprise. "And my sisters, well…we were never close." She swallowed thickly.
"My youngest sister," she said, "I was nursing my baby and she-mind you, she was an adult-asked me if I felt like a milk cow. A milk cow-in front of a dozen people!" Kili's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
"She really said that to you?" he asked, unable to believe it. Cirashala nodded.
"Yes," she replied, and he detected anger in her voice. "And my other sister, she…she was taller than I was, and would constantly point out that she was lighter than I am." The young woman picked a piece of moss off the log next to her.
"I didn't have a lot of friends," she said quietly. "My sisters would ignore me in front of others, and…the boys would rather look at my sister than me." Her eyes filled with tears.
"There were at least three boys I was sweet on growing up," she said quietly, and he could hear the pain in her voice. "And all three of them had eyes for only her…not me." Kili nodded.
"I know how that feels," he said quietly. Cirashala looked up at him in surprise.
"The dwarf lasses," he continued, "they…they would much rather try to court my brother than me. I…wasn't…let's just say that they didn't…like how I look." She looked at him and shook her head.
"They are stupid then," she said firmly. He looked up at her in surprise. She leaned over and put her hand on his.
"Any dwarf lass would be lucky to have you," she said quietly. There was honesty in her gaze, and the young dwarf could feel his cheeks warm again. He quickly looked away, and she took her hand off his. She looked down at the wedding ring on her finger, the heart-shaped diamond catching a bit of firelight.
"I was afraid to introduce him to my family," she said quietly as her fingers brushed over the stone. He looked up at her as her tears began to fall from her eyes. "I was afraid that my sister would catch his eye, not me." The tears glistened on her cheeks, and Kili fought the urge to wipe them away.
"But she didn't," she said quietly. "I still can't believe it, but he wasn't interested in her at all. He only had eyes for me." Her lip trembled as she sniffled.
"How did they die?" Kili asked quietly, unsure if she would even answer. She gazed off into the distance as pain etched in her features.
"A wagon accident," she said quietly. "I-I was driving, a-and this…this drunk maniac crossed in front of me. I-I tried to turn out of the way, b-but…he hit us." Her voice grew very small.
"I walked away with just a few scratches and bruises," she whispered. "I…held them in my arms as they died." Kili swallowed a lump in his throat as raw pain emanated from her. Bombur suddenly snored very loudly, and she hastily wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve.
"I'm sorry," she apologized as shame filled her features. "For being so weak." Kili shook his head.
"You are not weak," he said quietly but firmly. She looked at him through red-rimmed eyes.
"How can you say that?" she asked, "I'm sitting here with snot and tears running down my face—" He cut her off.
"You are not weak," he said firmly. She shook her head.
"Cira," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "You killed a warg when it had you in its mouth. You saved my brother's life when wolves were coming at us."
"That was a lucky shot," she said, and he shook his head.
"You still saved his life," he corrected, "And you slid down a mountain in a blizzard to rescue Bofur."
"I fell in the same hole he did," she protested, and Kili shook his head again.
"Cira," he said gently as he looked into her eyes. "You fought a lynx to save that little girl, and if it weren't for you, we never would have made it to Beorn's house.
"You didn't betray us," he added. "When that goblin was torturing you, you didn't tell him anything." He smiled.
"Cira," he stated firmly. "You were willing to go with us even though you guessed we were heading to face a dragon. Even though you were injured, even though you are grieving, you are willing to fight for us, to fight with us. To fight with dwarves. Even though your people have treated us badly, you would still stand with us.
"You are one of the strongest people I know," he finished. Cirashala stared at him with wide eyes, and he nodded his head to her. She glanced at the forgotten sword in her lap.
"Of course I would stand with you all," she said quietly. She glanced at the sleeping Thorin, who was laying up against a tree trunk. "Your people had their home stolen and their people killed. They were forced to wander starving in exile, reduced to blacksmiths. They were rejected by elves and scorned by men. Now your uncle tries to reclaim your homeland and seek justice for the wrongs committed against your people." She looked Kili in the eye.
"I don't care if you are elves, hobbits, humans or dwarves," she stated firmly as she squeezed the hilt of her sword. "I will not stand for injustice." Respect shone out of Kili's eyes, and he gently squeezed her shoulder.
"You are not weak simply because you grieve," he said quietly as he looked into her eyes. "You may think you are, but you are not." She nodded, before looking back down at her ring. He followed her gaze, and a lump formed in his throat. He did not want to see the woman he loved in pain.
"If you ever need to cry," he said quietly, "my shoulder is here…if you need it." She nodded, before looking up at him.
"Thank you," she said quietly, gratefulness in her gaze. He nodded to her.
"You're welcome."
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Note- if anyone guest reviewed last chapter, I apologize profusely if the replies are missing here. I had a massive computer crash (seriously, it was epic. It wouldn't even get far enough in the turn on process to even get to the safe mode menu no joke. Just kept trying to turn on, it would fail, then try again and fail again and kept on that loop. I lost all my previously written chapters, and if I hadn't emailed my novel manuscript to my editor I would have lost that as well. A couple months later and still trying to recover data), and lost everything I've written for TLBTM up to this point, including the replies to my guest reviews
So if you guest reviewed last chapter, and I lost it, please review again and ask your questions and such once more. I apologize for the inconvenience (and sometimes I REALLY hate technology -_-) but I have finally been able to replace my laptop and am now able to answer them again ?
Namarie! And don't forget to check out my novel, Amazing Grace! ?