Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
The Threads We Sew
It started as little twitches in his hands that came and went as he lay in his recovery bed. At first he thought nothing of it, figuring it was part of the healing process. But as muscle and bone started to knit back together, and wounds started to close, the twitching remained. If anything they only increased in intensity and frequency. Yet he said nothing of it, still hoping that with time they would eventually go away.
Oin had cleared him fit about a week ago.
Kili grunted in frustration as he drew his bow and tried to keep his hand steady on the string, but another tremor went through it and the arrow dropped from between his fingers to land in the grass at his feet. Cursing under his breath, he slowly relaxed the bow and picked up the arrow, resisting the urge to kick it first, but knowing that would be an extremely childish thing to do.
He twirled the arrow around his fingers a few times and debated the merits of trying to shoot the bow again.
Around him a gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, but aside from that it was quiet. Not at all like the forests of Eriador around the Blue Mountains where he’d spent most of his life. On any given day he could venture into them and be swept up in birdsong and the chitter of squirrels and bats. Here, the few woodlands that remained around the Lonely Mountain were still empty of life - the dragon and the Battle having driven away or killed what animals remained.
Only the ravens had returned so far, and they preferred to nest further up the slopes of the Mountain or in the broken stonework.
He hated the silence. It gave him far too much time to sink deeper into his own thoughts and remember things he would rather forget. It was why he’d come out here in the first place to do some shooting, to focus his mind on things other than warfare. It wasn’t so much the fighting - he’d seen his share and killed his share just escorting merchant caravans around the wilds of Eriador - but the nearly dying that gave him restless nights, especially now that he could no longer rely on being drugged to sleep.
If his mind wandered just a step too far, he could relive watching Fili being impaled and dropped to his death. Venture a little further and he could see Bolg looming above him, lowering his blade to slice through his chest, pushing it towards his heart…
Kili’s breath grew ragged as he set the arrow to the string and drew his bow. He loosed wildly at the large phantom orc, before the tremors could overrun his hands, noticing only after the release the flash of gold that dropped to the grass with a yell. It broke the vision enough for him to recognise what—or who—he’d shot at.
“Fili!”
Tossing his bow aside Kili rushed to the prone form.
“Mahal’s Hammer, Kili,” Fili said as he raised his head and slowly raised himself to his knees. “You need to watch where you’re aiming.”
“I was! I… I aimed for the target!” He looked past Fili’s head and saw his arrow sticking out of a clump of bushes.
“You mean that target?” Fili pointed to a tree off to Kili’s left with a ring drawn in charcoal on its trunk. He sighed. “Memories again?”
Kili sat back on the grass. “I wish it were only memories. I wish they were only nightmares, and I wasn’t seeing them with waking eyes, too. But they’re there. He’s there.”
Fili touched his shoulder. “Maybe you should-”
“Should what, Fili? Talk to someone? Who?” He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes lest he see the tears in them. “Who around here is free from everything that has happened to us? Uncle went mad. Dwalin’s driving himself mad with guilt for it. Balin’s trying to piece both of them back together. The last thing they need is me losing my mind as well.”
“You could talk to me,” Fili said quietly.
“I AM talking to you.” Kili swiped a palm over his eyes. “But you and I were nearly killed. I thought you died Fi. I watched him stab you and drop you, and I thought I’d lost you forever!”
“Hey… hey Ki, it’s alright.” Fili pulled his brother into a hug and held him as Kili clung to him and tried not to break down. “I’m here. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here. Breathe.” He inhaled slowly as Kili did the same a moment later, and breathed out again.
Kili’s grip on him loosened slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, Fili, it’s just that…”
Fili moved back so he could look at his brother’s face. “I’m also a reminder of what happened that day.” He nodded. “I understand.” He rubbed Kili’s back gently. “Is that all it is though?”
Kili knew - he knew - he should tell Fili about his hands, but for reasons he had not yet figured out he stayed silent about them. “That’s about it.” He hated keeping things from his brother, but what use would he be to anyone if he couldn’t even hold a bow, let alone wield a sword. Even Ori could still hold a quill and be of some use as a scribe.
“Hmm.”
Fili’s face was unreadable as he got to his feet and started to hold a hand out to him. Kili scrambled up before his brother’s arm could fully extend, picking up his bow and heading to the bushes to retrieve his arrow.
“Let’s head back in,” he said when he returned, stashing the arrow and bow in his quiver. “I’m guessing that’s why you came to find me.” If Fili had something to say, he could keep it to himself.
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Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
Tilda didn’t often find herself in the Dale market by herself, but this was a matter of urgency. At nine years old she could go places alone, but her father still preferred if either he or one of her older siblings went with her. Today however, Bard was wrapped up in meetings with other elders and fledgling guild leaders, Bain was off training with the Erebor weapons master, and Sigrid was… Well, she was somewhere. Tilda had her suspicions, but she had no solid proof.
As she walked, she took out a small pouch and looked inside, checking that she had enough coin with her for what she needed. Engrossed as she was, she failed to notice the figure in front of her until she walked right into it - and was promptly bounced back, landing on her bottom in the dust.
“My sincere apologies Lady Tilda, I did not mean to knock you over,” a familiar voice, but one she had not heard in a while, said. “Are you alright?”
She looked up - though didn't have to crane her neck too far - until she met a pair of big brown eyes framed by long dark hair. “Kili!” She took the offered hand and pulled herself up, then launched herself into his arms. “It’s been so long! How’ve you been?”
“It has indeed,” Kili replied with a smile as he hugged her and stepped back. “I’ve been well, mostly, Lady.”
Tilda scoffed. “Please. It’s still Tilda. Sigrid’s the big Lady now.” Then she frowned. “And what do you mean, ‘mostly’?”
The Dwarf grinned. “Well, I’m mostly recovered. Just get a bit sore now and then.” It was as close to the truth as he was going to tell the child. “Now, I must assume you are heading to the market. Perhaps you would like an escort?”
“Aren’t you busy?” she asked. “Don’t you have royal Prince things to do in the Mountain?”
Kili mimicked her previous scoff and grinned. “Pff… Fili’s the big Prince, so he gets to do all the boring stuff. I came down to have a look at the market.” And to get away from curious eyes, he added to himself. He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
The little girl giggled, her cheeks turning pink, as she took Kili’s arm and let him lead her into the market proper. It wasn’t every day she was accompanied by a Prince, however much he downplayed the role, and she found it quite thrilling. They browsed for a bit, but Tilda was looking out for the stall she wanted.
“Oh! Over there!” She tugged his arm and steered him over to a vendor’s table where balls and skeins of various fibres, in a selection of different colours, were laid out. “These are lovely!”
Kili waited patiently while Tilda looked over the wares, trying to guess what combinations of minerals had been used to make the dyes. The raw minerals he knew came from Erebor’s mines, and were traded with Dale in return for things like timber and certain food produce.
He recalled hearing Balin talking about the agreement as he lay in his recovery bed not long after having the hole in his chest stitched up.
“Sorry, Kili, if you wouldn’t mind holding some of these for me?”
Tilda thrust a few balls of black, red and yellow thread into his hands, then added some orange. He tried to focus on the sound of her voice as she spoke to the seller, and not linger on how he could still feel blood dripping down his sides as the blade pierced—
“Kili!”
The sharp cry snapped him back to the present and he realised his hands were shaking as some of the balls of thread fell to the ground. He started to kneel, but Tilda was already gathering up the dropped threads, a couple of which were now muddy.
“I am so sorry,” Kili said. “Let me get these, and replace what I spoiled. Here….” He packed what was still clean into Tilda’s bag, along with the extra spools, before handing the seller five gold coins - well above the asking price, but he cared not.
Tilda led him away from the stalls to a low bench. “You’re pale. Wait here.” She disappeared for a brief moment, then returned with two small tin cups filled with fruit juice. “Drink.”
The Dwarf accepted without argument and took a few sips. The cold sweetness helped to calm his nerves and stop his head from spinning. Tilda sat beside him, drinking her own juice. For a while they sat in silence, talking in the bustle of the market and sipping their drinks, before Kili finally spoke.
“Thank you,” he said. “Are you going to make something with —.”
“What happened, Kili?” Tilda asked. She didn’t like that she sounded frightened, but the sight of her friend almost fainting in front of her had scared her a little. “You were pale and shaking. Like you’d seen a monster.”
“I’m fine,” Kili replied, almost reflexively.
Tilda rolled her eyes. “You sound like Bain when he’s trying to hide something from Da, and Da always says you should never lie to healers.”
Despite himself, Kili chuckled. “Are you my healer then?”
“Yes,” Tilda shot back. “What happened?”
Still he hesitated. “You’re still really young to be hearing all this.” He tried to deflect.
“Kili please. A dragon attacked my town and burned my house down. We had to take refuge in the ruins of a city that was destroyed by the same dragon. And then a huge army of monsters invaded and tried to kill all of us.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he replied. “How do you cope with it all?”
Tilda gave a little shrug. “I had bad dreams for a few nights, but after a while, when I knew we weren’t going to be attacked again, they started to go away. It helps that we were really busy trying to get the new house ready to live in. Finding things to do was a good way not to think about all the bad things. And this has helped a lot.” She shook her market bag with all the threads in them, then poked him in the side. “Now you.”
Kili sighed, knowing she would not let this go. “So you know that big battle we fought with all the monsters?” She nodded. “Well, I was in it. And not just against all those little goblins. My uncle, and Fili, and I ended up on Ravenhill over there.” He pointed North to the crumbling ruins of a tower. “And we ended up battling some really big ones. And Fili got really hurt…” He paused to take a deep breath. Tilda squeezed his hand. “And then I got really hurt… I thought Fili had died. I thought I was going to die.” His fingers shook under her hand and she squeezed a bit tighter until they stopped.
“I remember Da saying all of you were hurt really bad. Sigrid and Tauriel went to your camp every day with herbs for medicine, and bandages.” Tilda leaned against his arm. “I was scared for all of you, but Da said Dwarves were strong, because they come from the rock, and so you’re all very hard to kill.”
The young Dwarf smiled. “Your Da’s not wrong. We’re hardier than most.” He sighed. “But you know those bad dreams you had? I still have them, only not just when I’m asleep. Sometimes I have dreams of getting hurt even when I’m awake.”
“Is that why your hands shake?”
Kili studied his free hand. “Maybe? I haven’t really… told anyone about it.” At her raised eyebrow he looked sheepish. “I fear if I did they might think me useless, or a burden they have to look after.”
Tilda frowned. “Would they really think that of you? Your own brother? They’re your family.”
“I don’t think Fili would, but I don’t want him to worry.”
“He’s going to worry anyway, because that’s what big brothers and sisters do. So you should tell him… and Oin, because he’s a healer, and we do not lie to healers.”
Kili chuckled. “Who made you so wise?”
Tilda grinned. “I just am.”
“I do not doubt,” he laughed, then nodded to her bag. “So what are all those for? You said they helped you with the… memories.”
“Oh, I started doing embroidery now that we can get cloth and threads again. Sigrid taught me when I was little, but she’s busy now so she doesn’t do it herself anymore. But I love it. It makes ordinary things like aprons and handkerchiefs look so pretty.”
“A maiden of many talents,” Kili said. He finished his juice and set his cup down beside hers, his mind in a maelstrom of thoughts as he looked out at the market again. “Does it… really help?”
Tilda nodded. “I couldn’t tell you how. It’s just, when I’m sewing I only focus on that, and everything else in my head goes quiet.”
“That does sound nice,” Kili admitted. He picked up their empty cups and stood. “You have given me quite a bit to think about, milady. Come, allow me to walk you home.” Once again, he pulled her to her feet, then rested her hand in the crook of his elbow.
They returned the cups to the drink seller, and Kili slipped him another gold coin. Together they walked towards the modest house the family now lived in, and Kili briefly thought the Lord of Dale deserved a finer dwelling than this. But he knew Bard. The Man was nothing if not practical, and Kili would never insult his pride by trying to foist anything on him that he deemed above his station.
At the front door, Tilda released his arm and opened it. Then she turned to Kili. “Will you be alright getting home by yourself?”
Kili nodded. “I should be able to manage. Thank you for today, Tilda. Your company today has been most enjoyable. Should you ever need an escort around the market again, please send word. I believe your sister frequently visits with my brother.” He winked mischievously.
Tilda gasped. “I knew it!” Then she leaned up on tiptoes and kissed Kili’s cheek. “Get home safe, Prince Kili,” she said with a giggle.
Kili grinned and took his leave, and she watched him go until he disappeared down the road.
~*~
Oin looked up as the door to his clinic scraped open and a dark-haired head peeked through, looking around nervously. The younger prince blinked on spotting him and Oin noted a moment of hesitation before he stepped inside.
“What can I do for you, Kili?” he asked.
“Oh… just wanted to check if you needed any help?”
Oin raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t every day the princes came by offering assistance. They were usually out training or hunting - at least in the days before the Quest. These days there was more to do within the Mountain than without, but he still expected this one in particular to be out with his bow and arrows.
“Well since you’re being generous, there’s herbs need grindin’ over there.” He pointed to a stone mortar and pestle.
Kili entered the room and went over to the table Oin gestured to. The old healer watched him hesitate for a moment before picking up the pestle and getting to work. Oin turned back to his notes, listening to the steady grinding of stone on stone, until a sharp hiss caught his attention, and he looked up again to see Kili slightly bent over the table with his hands half-clenched into fists. Even from where he stood, he could see them shake.
He immediately went over to the younger Dwarf and laid a gentle hand on his back. “Easy lad,” he said. “Deep breaths.” He took note of Kili’s tense posture and the slight sheen of sweat on his face despite the hall not being particularly warm. “Does it hurt?”
Kili shook his head and took the breath Oin had instructed him to. Not long after, the shaking stopped, and his body started to relax. He reached to pick up the pestle again. “Sorry. I’ll get these done.”
Oin stopped him. “I take it that’s why you’ve come to see me.” A nod. “How long?” A half-hearted shrug. “That long then. Why did you not come to me sooner?”
“I thought they would stop on their own, but they keep happening. And I don’t know how to control them.” The young Dwarf looked scared. “I can’t hold things. I’m afraid to hold things - I haven’t picked up my bow since… since I nearly shot Fili.”
“Hmm…” Oin guided him to a stool and made him sit so he could examine his hands - finger by finger, and up his arms. “And you’re certain they don’t hurt?”
“Yes.” Kili frowned. “I mean no. No, they don’t hurt. They just shake.”
“Right. Sit up straight and let me check your spine.”
Oin grabbed a thin, metal stick and worked his way down Kili’s back, poking him at various intervals to test his responses. Satisfied with the results, he looked closely at Kili’s eyes, tested his head movement, and his hearing. Lastly, he examined Kili’s old wounds, before finally sitting back and regarding him.
“Physically, y’re in the pink of health, lad,” he told the younger. “You’re as near fit as you were before the quest, but that journey aged us all a wee bit. The wounds have healed well, and there’s no infection that I can see.” He crossed his arms. “Are ye sure there’s nothing else y’want to tell me?”
Kili sighed. “It’s nothing physical. I just… I keep having nightmares. Only… not just when I’m sleeping.” He shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Sometimes I see things when I’m awake, as if I’m back on the battlefield. The next thing I know…” He held up his hands, his fingers giving a slight tremble.
Oin stroked his beard as he looked Kili over again. “These hand tremors… when do they happen?”
“Uh… the fainter ones happen at random,” Kili replied. “The bad ones… when I come out of one of those memories, they just… sometimes even when I talk about what happened.”
The old healer nodded. “I’m afraid this is just a physical response to what’s in here, lad.” He reached up and tapped Kili on the temple. “You’ve suffered an injury of the mind. I’ve seen it before. Azanulbizar - a lot of the survivors had it. Some recovered for the most part, some… never did.”
Kili’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to go mad like….” He stopped and shook his head. “How do I recover? Could I recover?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re young, you have a home and, most importantly, you have a family who loves you. As for the how: If your thoughts trouble you, talk to your family. And perhaps find something to do that keeps your mind focused away from the memories.” Oin stood. “If you want, I could—.”
The younger Dwarf scrambled to his feet as well. “Thank you, Oin. That’s… that’s a good idea. I think I have something in mind that could help.” He made for the door. “Thank you!”
The old healer shook his head and went back to his work.
Kili made his way through the Mountain until he found his brother heading down a hall towards one of the gates. “Ah Fili, there you are. Glad I caught you.”
The golden-haired Dwarf turned to look at him. “Kili? What is it?”
“Could you help me tell Sigrid to please let Tilda know I’ll see her at the market in five days,” he said. “And I’ll bring the oat biscuits.”
“What makes you think I’m seeing Sigrid?”
Kili snorted. “Fi, please. You didn’t get all cleaned up and pretty to meet Dwalin’s hunting party.” He watched in amusement as his brother’s cheeks coloured.
“Is it that obvious?” Fili asked, sheepishly
“No, but I know you better than most.” Kil turned to go. “Anyway, tell Tilda, please?”
He was off back down the hall before Fili could say anything more.
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Chapter Text
CHAPTER TWO
As the needle stabbed through the fabric again, Tilda winced and tried not to let it show too much on her face, but it was in vain as Kili glanced over, then tossed the hoop - needle and thread still stuck in - onto the grass with a grunt.
“This is hopeless,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the house.
They sat on a bench together in the little garden behind Bard’s house, under the shade of a nearby tree. They had been going at it for a couple of hours: Tilda’s design looking neat and full, her deft fingers making the work look easy. Kili’s - now cast aside - looking more than a little untidy with his uneven lines and gaps between the threads.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Tilda replied. “It’s not hopeless.”
“Yes, it is. Look at it: it’s a mess. My lines are all over the place.” He gestured to Tilda’s work resting on her lap. “Meanwhile this is beautiful; and mine will never look anything like it.”
“I should hope not,” Tilda said. “Everyone has their own style, and you will find yours.” She set her hoop aside and gave his forearm a squeeze, then got up to retrieve his hoop before sitting back down again. “Besides, you only started learning a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been doing this since I was six.”
Kili tried not to look at his work. “I thought I’d be better by now.”
The girl huffed. “Now you’re talking silly. When did you first shoot a bow?”
The Dwarf frowned. “A long time ago. Why?”
“What did you hit?”
Kili cast his mind back to an almost different time, when he still lived in the Blue Mountains of Eriador, and the tales of the Lonely Mountain were just stories Uncle Thorin told them at bedtime. A wild place, sometimes dangerous, but still more home to him than Erebor’s stone halls at the moment. Sometimes he wished he was back there amongst the forests. Maybe that was why he liked spending more time in Dale.
“A bush,” he replied. “Though I was aiming for a tree. I remember I had to crawl into it to get my arrow back and got pretty scratched up by thorns. Mother and Fili had to clean me up a bit more that night. She threatened to cut all my hair off, the state it was in.”
Tilda giggled. “I can’t imagine you with no hair.”
Kili chuckled as well. “Tell me about it. The lack of beard’s bad enough as it is, but anything longer than this and I can’t shoot.” He sighed. It had been a while since he’d picked up his bow and arrows, but he still didn't trust himself with it. “I miss it.”
“You’re going to shoot again.” Tilda took his hand. “And you’re going to do this.” She placed the hoop in it. “Like you said: You never hit anything on your first go, but I bet you didn’t just give up, did you?”
A small smile crossed Kili’s face as he looked at the child. “No. I suppose I didn’t.”
“Then you just need to keep practicing until your fingers learn to do it on their own. But you can’t give up.” Tilda picked up her own hoop. “Besides, you managed to thread the needle, even when your hands shook. So that’s a small win, isn’t it?”
Kili nodded. “It is. And I should take them where I get them.” He touched her arm with his in a gentle nudge. “You get wiser with each passing day, milady.”
Tilda laughed and returned to her work, and for a while the pair sewed in companionable silence, though Kili noted there was birdsong in the trees here. It gave him hope that wildlife could return further up the mountain, too.
His fingers worked the needle in and out of the fabric, and though they trembled now and then, he still managed to keep his grip on the little sliver of metal, and he held on to it like a lifeline, trying his best to follow the simple pattern Tilda had drawn for him.
The girl watched him out of the corner of her eye, noting how he guided the thread as best he could over the loops and swirls, and where she needed to correct him. Her gaze happened to drift toward Kili’s shirt, noting the overlapping diamond pattern on the sleeves and neck, and she thought back to all the Dwarves she had seen or met over the last couple of years and the designs they had on their clothing and jewellery: angles, lines, edges, corners… of course!
“Kili, stop,” she said. “Give that to me. I think I know what’s wrong and how to help you.”
The Dwarf watched, puzzled, as Tilda undid the hoop and redid it on a blank section of the fabric. Then she took out her piece of soapstone chalk and sketched out a different pattern: overlapping diamonds, much like the ones on his shirt. Satisfied with her work, she passed the hoop back to him.
“There.”
He raised an eyebrow at her as he re-threaded his needle.
“I think you’ve been struggling because you’ve been trying to do Human patterns, when really you should be working on something more Dwarven,” she said. “Try that.”
Kili stuck his needle in and started to cover up the drawn lines with the thread, his fingers feeling much more at ease following the edges and angles as he moved from diamond to diamond. “This does feel a lot better,” he conceded. “It’s not unlike working with wood, come to think of it.”
“You can carve?” Tilda asked with no small bit of wonder. “Can you show me?”
He smiled a bit sadly and held up a hand, wiggling his fingers. “Not for a while; I don’t trust myself with a knife these days. But I used to. Nothing too complicated, mind. I started with my arrows, and then Bifur and Bofur taught me some simple shapes.”
They returned to their work as Kili talked. “You should see what they can do with a bit of wood and a knife. Works of art. And the toys they used to make. Bifur made this eagle once that could flap its wings if you turned the crank attached to it.”
Tilda smiled. “I would have loved to see that. Da said the Dwarves used to sell splendid toys in the old Dale markets, before the dragon came.” She did not fail to notice the slight tremor that went through Kili’s hand at the mention of Smaug, and how he gripped the needle a bit tighter. “Perhaps you should talk to them about selling at our market; once most of the repairs are done in the Mountain, maybe they’ll have more free time. And then everyone can see how beautiful Dwarven wares are.”
Kili smiled back at her. “It’s a wonderful idea, milady. I shall indeed take it to the king when I see him later tonight. I do not doubt that he will approve of it.” He was rewarded with the giggle she always did when he spoke formally to her. “Now, what do you think of this latest of my efforts?”
He held the hoop out for her to inspect, and she was just about to speak, when they heard the quiet creak of the front gate and hushed voices drifted towards them on the light breeze. Both heads snapped up and they exchanged a look before putting down their needlework and creeping softly along the wall of the house to peer round the corner.
They were just in time to see Sigrid lean down and catch Fili’s lips in a kiss that the Dwarf eagerly returned.
The onlookers’ eyes widened, and it was only thanks to Kili’s quick reflexes that their presence was not revealed, as he clamped a hand over Tilda’s mouth just before she could let out a squeal; and pulled her away to give their older siblings some privacy. He released her as they returned to their bench and she gasped.
“I knew there was something going on with her!” she hissed.
Kili sat down and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, Uncle’s not going to be too pleased about this.”
“Nevermind your uncle,” Tilda said. “Da will probably skin him and turn him into a new coat.” She started to pack away her work into the small basket she had with her. “Do they have a chance? At all?”
“I don’t know,” Kili admitted as he put his own things back into his bag. “In Sig’s case, even if Bard makes a fuss of things, in the end his succession goes through Bain. She’s free to marry whoever she wants, unless your Da has already arranged for her hand to be given to someone else?”
She shrugged. “Not that they’ve told me anything. They all think I’m too young to be thinking about marriage, but I have it all planned out.”
The Dwarf smiled. “Oh do you? Am I to be privy to these plans at all?”
“Of course! When I’m grown, I’m going to marry a knight. Maybe one of those knights of Gondor; he’ll march gallantly into our halls and demand Da for my hand.” Tilda giggled as she spoke, then looked at the Dwarf. “Though if no one shows up, I’ll just marry you instead.”
Kili startled, then laughed. “That is a well thought out plan. Though I’m uncertain if my uncle could handle the idea of two Dwarf-Human unions. Let alone one.”
Tilda sobered a bit then. “Would he really not allow it? Fili and Sig, I mean.”
He touched her shoulder.” It’s not that simple. Fili’s the Crown Prince, meaning he’ll take over as King Under the Mountain one day.”
She leaned against his side. “So that means Sig would be a Queen.”
“A Human Queen,” Kili emphasised. “It could complicate things.”
“Are you against it?”
“No.” He gently rubbed her arm in a gesture of comfort. “I just want him to be happy. Both of them.”
Tilda looked him square in the eye. “If he breaks her heart, I’m going to walk straight into that mountain of yours and shave his beard.”
Kili smiled. “And I shall be there to open the gates.” He gave her a quick hug goodbye, then stood. “For now however, I shall bid you farewell.” He paused for a moment. “But come visit some time, even if there are no beards to shave.”
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Chapter Text
CHAPTER THREE
When Tilda was finally given permission to visit the mostly-restored Erebor, she was beside herself as she headed up the mountain path to the gates where a certain Dwarf Prince awaited her.
“Welcome—finally!—to my home!” Kili said as he swept her up in a hug. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long.”
Tilda returned the hug happily, then took his arm so he could escort her inside. “Too long. I’ve missed you, and our sewing sessions together. You have been practicing, I hope?”
“Diligently, my lady,” he replied. “In fact that’s the first thing I want to show you.”
They walked further into the Mountain, Kili leading her down passage after passage, patiently stopping now and then for her to take in the splendour of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, before finally coming to a door that he opened to reveal a small parlour.
He let her enter first, and Tilda marvelled at how warm and cosy it all looked despite it being stone all around. A fire burned brightly in a little fireplace, and lamps hanging from the ceiling provided a little extra light. A couple of slightly oversized armchairs sat by the fire before a small, low, stone table atop which stood a pitcher and some cups.
“My humble parlour,” Kili said. “Please make yourself at home; there is juice in the jug… apple I think, Bombur mentioned. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Tilda did indeed sit and help herself—apple juice was her favourite, which was why she suspected Kili had it here—while the Dwarf ducked into an antechamber that she surmised was where his bedroom was.
As she sipped her juice, she happened to notice a well-used bow and quiver of arrows hanging on one of the walls, along with a beautifully forged sword, that she recognised as being the one Kili had used in the battle—though it was clean now.
She was about to stand and inspect the weapons when Kili came back into the parlour with a couple of hoops in hand. As he set them down on the table, she noted they were more octagonal in shape than completely round. Dwarves and their lines!
Then she noted the fabric within the hoops. “Kili, these are lovely!”
She picked up one of them that had a simple mountain design embroidered—outlined in black and crowned with a half-ring of stars. He had even used some of the simple techniques she had shown him to fill in a bit of colour.
The second hoop contained a very Dwarven-styled raven, still in black, but he had attempted to add in some defined wings and feathers.
Kili blushed a little with pride. “I told you I’ve been practicing.” He knelt beside her chair and pointed out a few more details.
“And how are your hands?” She asked, touching one of his with hers. “Do they still shake?”
“A bit. I still have the waking nightmares now and then, but they’re getting better. I can regain control a lot faster now.”
Tilda nodded to the bow. “You should take that up again.”
Kili followed her gaze and gave a little sigh. “Maybe, but there’s no rush. The hunters are doing a lot better for game these days, and we’re able to send more patrols out to sweep for any orc-packs.”
“That is not what I meant though.”
“I know. And I will one day. I just want my hands to get better first.”
He stood and picked up the hoops now that she had finished inspecting them, returning them to his room and shutting the door before coming back and pulling her to her feet.
“Where are we going?” She asked as he led her back out again.
Kili chuckled. “Wait and see. I promised to show you the Mountain, and so I shall!”
And so he did.
They peeked into the throne room where Thorin was holding court with some of his advisors, though Fili was nowhere to be seen, Tilda noted.
They stopped at the Forges to watch the great bellows work, and looked in on the Mines where they lunched with Bofur and some of his crew.
They returned empty plates to the kitchens where they managed to charm a small honey cake or two out of Bombur; and finally ended up in a workroom where jewelsmiths worked on shaping metal and setting gems.
Nori tossed Kili a piece of something that he caught deftly, and opening his hand they looked down at a gleaming orange stone, expertly cut and polished. He looked questioningly back up at the other Dwarf.
“Fire Topaz?” he asked, a bit puzzled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Not for you,” Nori said. “For Fili. Tell him to let me know if that’s the shade he’s after.”
Kili tucked the precious stone away in his pocket. “What does he want with gems?”
Nori shrugged. “You’ll be needin’ to ask him, mate. He’s your brother.” He regarded Tilda. “Now you’d best take care of this little one; make sure she gets home safe before dark.”
“She’ll be perfectly safe with me. Come on, Tilda.”
Kili led her back out, and they started to make their way to the upper levels once more. But rather than make for the main gate, he led her along a more winding path through the Mountain, until he stopped at what seemed like a dead end.
For a moment Tilda thought he had lost them, and was about to say as much, when he laid his hand on the stone wall before them and gave a little push. To her surprise it moved and opened outwards, and she stepped out to find herself on the Mountain’s higher slopes.
Kili joined her, smiling as she marvelled at the view.
“Impressive, is it not?” He asked.
She nodded. “You can see for leagues upon leagues from here. Maybe even our house. Imagine how much more beautiful this whole land will look once it is fully healed from the dragon.”
“Balin said there were times when these slopes would be covered in wildflowers, the likes of which do not grow anywhere else in Middle-earth.”
Tilda looked around and then gave a little gasp, moving quickly to where a cluster of plants had sprouted from between cracks in the rock. Tapering green leaves surrounded blossoming young buds in shades of soft pink that matured into eight-petaled flowers of rich purple.
“Oh, Kili, these are enchanting!”
Kili crouched beside her. “According to Ori, I believe these are known as Mountain Star. Only found on Erebor’s slopes because of some mineral deposits unique to here.”
“They’re beautiful. I think I’ve found my favourite flower. And what a lovely name: Mountain Star.”
The Dwarf reached out and plucked a single flower from the cluster, then tucked it behind the little girl’s ear, grinning as she blushed. “There. Something to take home from your visit.” Then he stood and pulled her up with him. “And speaking of home, we should get you back before your father sends out a search party.”
~*~
Fili knew it was late when he crept into the smaller and more private dining hall usually favoured by him and his brother when they wanted to eat and talk away from the eyes and ears of every other Dwarf in Erebor. Bluestone Hall, they had named it.
He set a small plate of buttered bread and a mug of ale down on the table and pulled out a chair to sit.
“You’ve not had a midnight snack since before we left the Blue Mountains.”
The sudden voice nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he whirled around to see Kili in an armchair by the fireplace, a slate balanced on one knee and a piece of soapstone chalk in his hand.
“Mahal’s Hammer, Kili, you nearly caused my heart to fail!” He exclaimed. “What are you even doing awake at this hour?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Kili countered. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Nightmare. Came here to take my mind off it and work on an idea I had for Tilda’s birthday in a couple of weeks.” He made a few more marks on the slate. “Your turn.”
Fili dropped into the chair, taking a bite of the bread and washing it down with a gulp of ale, trying to delay his answer, though he didn’t know why he bothered. The light scrape of chalk on slate only served as a reminder that Kili was like a terrier with things like this: once he had hold, he wouldn’t let go until he was satisfied.
“I’m just in from a walk.” Well, it was mostly true.
“Down to Dale perhaps? Escorting a lady home?”
He stalled again as he continued to eat and drink. “As is the right thing to do.”
Kili looked up from his sketching. “The right thing to do would be to not lead her on.”
Fili looked back at him. “I’m not leading her on. I…” he sighed. “Honestly Ki, I thought you of all people would be on my side, given everything you went through with the Elf.”
“I’m always on your side. Which is why I don’t want you to get hurt—any of you. And Uncle?”
“Yes, he knows. Of course he doesn’t like it. Neither does Bard. But it was Balin who convinced them to go along with it. He said it would make a good political alliance if there was such a union between the families.”
“And is that what she is to you? A good strategy?”
“No! I want to be with her. I love… I love her.” Fili downed the last of his ale in a big gulp and brought his mug down on the table a little harder than he intended to. “There, I said it. I love her.”
Kili regarded him, his brown eyes meeting Fili’s blue and noting the intensity in them. His own eyes grew a bit sad. “She’s Human.”
“I know.” Fili’s eyes reflected the sorrow. “I know…”
The younger Dwarf reached into a pocket then. “Here…” He tossed something small and shiny to his brother. “Nori said to give this to you.”
Fili looked at the Fire Topaz in his palm and gave a small smile. “Thank you.”
A slight shrug. “But if you spoil Tilda’s birthday, I’ll let her shave off your beard.”
~*~
The day after her tenth birthday Tilda groaned as the late morning sunlight flooded her room, and she pulled her blanket over her face trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.
It was her own fault for staying up later than she normally would have, but some of the Dwarves had come down from Erebor to help her family throw her a small birthday party—especially as she had never had one before—and Bard had allowed her to go to bed past her usual bedtime.
She sat up slowly, wondering for a moment why her legs ached, before remembering there was dancing—so much dancing. The Dwarves had been more than happy to teach them some of their dances, and she had spent most of the party romping with Kili, and sometimes with Fili when he could be torn away from her older sister. The reels had been particularly fun, especially when Kili had twirled her and made her dress flare out around her.
Thoughts of Kili reminded her that he had given her a present when he arrived, and she had put it in her room for safekeeping. Heaving herself out of bed with another groan and forcing her legs to work, she looked around and spotted a little package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with colourful string, sitting on her dresser. That had to be it. Retrieving it, she sat back down on the edge of her bed and opened it.
As she peeled back the last fold of paper, she gave a little gasp of wonder and picked up three squares of fabric in her favourite colours. They were simple handkerchiefs made of Dale linen, but each was embroidered in a distinctly Dwarven design depicting the purple Mountain Star flower. The work was still rustic and lacked Tilda’s own precise neatness, but she loved them for the work that had gone into them. Kili had very obviously put a lot of thought and effort into it.
Setting them aside, she quickly got up to wash and change, before slipping one of the handkerchiefs into her dress pocket and making her way out of her room. She expected to see Dwarves sprawled over the parlour floor, but she was pleasantly surprised to find it empty and instead a fine brunch laid out on the dining room table. Her father and siblings were already seated, and of the Dwarves, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Ori remained. She immediately ran to Kili, who stood up on seeing her, and wrapped him up in a big hug.
“Thank you!” she said. “I loved my present. They’re beautiful.”
Kili grinned and returned the hug. “Only the finest beauty for a beautiful lass.”
“Kili, stop trying to smother the girl and let her have some food,” Thorin grunted as he helped himself to more bacon.
The younger Dwarf helped Tilda into her seat and then sat down again beside his brother who now, come to think of it, seemed unusually fidgety and quiet. Before Kili could ask anything though, Fili stuffed half a tomato into his mouth and looked everywhere but at him. Across the table Tilda served herself some eggs and bacon, then sat back and took out the handkerchief Kili had made her, showing it to her sister. Sigrid seemed only too happy to admire the needlework and listen to Tilda talk about the mountain flower as she ate.
Bofur caught Kili’s eye with a questioning look, and Kili could only shrug. No one else seemed to notice the unspoken air between Fili and Sigrid. Thorin and Bard were busy in conversation about governing, Bain was half-asleep on the table with his head on his arms, and Ori was deep in his sketchbook.
Sigrid reached for her toast to take a bite, then stopped short and frowned, looking at the plain piece of bread. “Fili, please would you pass the butter?”
Kili nudged his brother, who startled and reached to pick up the butter dish, holding it out to Sigrid. She reached to take it from him, their fingers just brushing, and Fili met her eyes.
“Please would you marry me?”
Kili caught the butter dish and Tilda almost choked on her breakfast, as the rest of the table went quiet and stared at the pair, though none more so than Bard and Thorin.
“What?” Sigrid asked.
She started to turn around in her chair, just as Fili jumped up from his and came around the table to kneel in front of her.
“Marry me,” he said. “Please?”
Kili had just enough awareness left to grab Tilda with his other arm before she threw herself at the couple.
===============
Chapter Text
CHAPTER FOUR
“If I have to hear about another flower arrangement for the wedding I am going to scream.”
Tilda threw herself into the swinging lounge seat that hung from a sturdy tree branch, letting it rock her back and forth to soothe her nerves. This newest piece of garden furniture was the latest gift from Kili’s family for her 13th birthday a few days ago, and she loved it as a place to retreat to when she needed a break from everything happening in her house, especially now with the wedding looming.
Kili rolled onto his side where he was lying on the grass and propped himself up on an elbow, trying not to grin too widely at Tilda’s expression.
“More roses?”
“People have no imagination,” she said. “We have so many beautiful flowers growing in the valleys around Dale and all they can show her are roses.”
“And what does Sigrid have to say about it?”
“Sigrid is too polite to tell them what she really thinks because she says, well they put so much work into the arrangement. But I know it’s not what she wants.”
“I could ask….”
“Kili no. Your family is already doing so much by hosting the wedding in Erebor, the least we can do is cover the flowers.” Tilda crossed her arms and let herself swing a little more. “You’d think after three years of being engaged Sigrid could put her foot down, but every time she sees another arrangement she gets uncertain again.”
“To be fair, they only recently started on the flowers,” Kili tried to reason.
“But why does it have to be roses?!”
“Have you tried talking to her about this?”
Her swinging slowed. “Yes. But she says I don’t understand these things. I understand more than she knows, and unlike her, I’m not going to be pushed around when it’s my wedding day!”
Kili grinned. “No one would dream of pushing you around, my lady,” he said, rolling to his back and sitting up. “You are as strong as the hardest Erebor steel.”
Tilda tried not to stare too obviously at the Dwarf’s lean form and how his dark hair flowed freely over his shoulders. The past few months she had started to become aware of just how good Kili looked, especially when he smiled… especially when he smiled at her and made the butterflies flutter in her stomach. He smiled a lot more these days, now that his hands shook considerably less.
“Tilda?”
The girl’s attention snapped back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Mmhm, yes?”
“I asked if you’d perhaps like to head into the market with me? Maybe a walk would help to clear your head.” Kili got to his feet and held out a hand to her.
Doing her best to appear nonchalant, Tilda took it and allowed him to pull her up, letting him rest her hand in the crook of his elbow as he always did. Only this time, she could feel a blush working its way up her neck. She could only hope it wasn’t as noticeable on her face.
“Yes, I think the market would be a good idea,” she said. “I could use a new fan. It’s been unusually hot these days.”
“I haven’t noticed,” he replied.
As they made their way down the street, Tilda tried her best to ignore the feeling of Kili’s bicep flexing under her hand every time the arm she was holding bent even the slightest bit. Instead she did her best to pay attention to the marketplace that the two of them had been frequenting together ever since Kili had taken up embroidery.
The Dale Market had always been popular, but thanks to the upcoming wedding, it was now busier than ever, and trying to navigate through the crowds was proving a challenge. Human and Dwarf alike, and even the occasional Elf, thronged the streets and the pair were constantly jostled as they tried to move from table to table to browse the wares.
It was the light tremor that ran down the arm she was holding that got Tilda’s attention and she momentarily shelved the strange feelings she was having towards her friend. Her hand slipped down into Kili’s as she felt his fingers tremble and she gave a reassuring squeeze, even as she noted the glazed look in his eyes and how his breath started to quicken. She didn’t know what he was seeing in his mind, but from the previous conversations they had about his visions, could only imagine it all felt like orcs pushing up against him on that day of the Battle.
Hastily she cut through the crowds where she could, pulling him behind her as she tried to find somewhere quiet for him to come back to himself. Eventually they reached the center of the Square, and she pushed him to sit on the ledge of the fountain. While not exactly the quietest spot, the spray of the water on his face seemed to help.
“Breathe, Kili. It’s alright,” she said, still keeping his hand in both of hers as she sat beside him. “You’re safe. The battle is over. Breathe.”
His other hand moved to grasp hers, as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his breathing under control. Tilda held on to him as best she could, trying not to let worry show on her face. This was the first attack he’d had in almost a year, and if she was being honest, she had almost forgotten why it was he’d started doing the needlework with her to begin with.
Time seemed to slow as she watched him anxiously, and then another voice cut through the bustle of the Square.
“Kili!”
Tilda looked up in time to see a familiar red-headed Elf sit on Kili’s other side, and she smiled. “Tauriel!”
Kili blinked at the sound of the new voice and started to open his eyes, his breathing slowing until he could take a few deeper breaths and release the grip he had on the girl’s hands. “I’m sorry,” he said to her. “I did not mean for that to happen.”
“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Tilda said. “Are you alright?”
He nodded, then he regarded the Elf sitting beside him. “And what are you doing here?! I thought you were still in Lothlorien?”
He beamed and wrapped her up in the biggest hug that Tauriel returned happily. Tilda watched them, glad that her Elf friend had returned, but also feeling strangely uncomfortable seeing her and Kili so close together.
“It is where I travelled from,” Tauriel replied, releasing him and looking at them both. “I’m here for the wedding, as I promised Sigrid I would be.” She reached and touched Kili’s cheek. “What ails you though?”
Tilda tried to smooth the frown off her face as best she could before she answered. “He gets visions sometimes. Of the Battle. Mister Oin said they give him what’s called panic attacks where he thinks he’s still in the battle and getting hurt. We thought they had stopped; he’s not had one in close to a year.”
“I did not think the market to be so busy,” Kili said. “The crowds, they… it felt like I was fighting through orcs again.” He smiled at Tilda and she felt her stomach give another little flutter. “Tilda has been a big help to me these last couple of years. It’s thanks to her they have mostly abated.”
Tauriel smiled at them both. “Well I am glad someone is looking after you, given you can barely be trusted to do it yourself.”
“You should know I am extremely sensible these days,” he replied, earning laughter from both Elf and Human.
The former stood, holding out hands to them both. “Come,” she said. “I have lodgings here in the City. Let us go there and have some refreshments and you can tell me more about everything that has been happening here and in Erebor.”
Tilda took her hand and stood. “Can you tell us more about Lothlorien?” she asked, feeling more like herself, some of her hostility towards the Elf forgotten at the prospect of hearing about new lands. “What are the Elves there like? I’ve heard some of the merchants say there is a powerful sorceress that lives in the middle of the woods. Is that true? Does she do magic?”
Tauriel laughed as Kili stood as well, and she led them through less busy streets to the house she was lodging at. “So many questions! They will require a few drinks before they can all be answered.”
“Does that mean I can have some wine?” the girl asked hopefully.
“No.” Kili and Tauriel both replied in unison.
~*~
“So when was the last time you shot your bow?”
It was a simple question, but one that Kili did not want to answer because “too long” was the only reply he could give. He and Tauriel walked in one of Dale’s new public gardens. Having escorted Tilda home, they had then decided it was still too early for them to retire for the night, and instead had spent the time talking about a few things that were best not mentioned in front of a 13-year-old.
“The wedding’s had me fairly busy,” he replied.
It was a half-truth and they both knew it.
“Come hunting with me one day,” she said. “I imagine the kitchens of Erebor can use all the stock they can get hold of, given the numbers they will have to feed.”
“Bombur’s never one to turn down an entire hind,” Kili agreed. “Can I think about it though?”
Tauriel knew this would be the closest she would get to a ‘yes’ so she nodded.
They walked in silence a little more before sitting down on a bench together. The Elf looked up and a small smile graced her face. It was a clear night and the stars shone down on them brightly. Kili watched her marvel at them and smiled himself. Nearly 700 years old, and the stars still fascinated her.
“I had almost forgotten how much closer they feel here in Dale,” she murmured, almost to herself.
And she had never stopped fascinating him.
He cleared his throat. “So uhhh… are they nice to you in Lothlorien? Friendly?”
Tauriel glanced at him. “They’re kind. Only half as suspicious as the Elves of the Woodland Realm, so that is already quite liberating. The Lord and Lady are good rulers.”
“I see.” Kili turned his attention to running a finger over a pattern on the hem of his outer tunic. “And have you made any friends?”
“Some.” She smiled a bit. “There are a couple I would call very good friends. We have gotten close these past few years.”
“Two of them? That’s nice.”
“Mmhm. They’re twins: dark hair, hazel eyes. Very pretty. Very enthusiastic about… most things.”
“Well, clearly you have a type.”
Kili tried to be nonchalant about it all, but knew he was failing miserably. There was no reason for him to feel this way - they had agreed before Tauriel’s departure to Lothlorien that neither was bound to the other, and each of them was free to seek other partnerships if they wished, and at whatever level of commitment they so desired. If all Tauriel saw him as was a friend, then, he told himself, he would have to live with that.
“It would appear that I do.” She looked at him. “They are not you, though.”
He met her eyes. “I should hope not, they’d make for very funny-looking Dwarves.” It was a fruitless attempt at humour.
Around them, the people of Dale had started to disperse, most retiring to their homes for supper and sleep, but food was the last thing on Kili’s mind at the moment. He tried to read the expression on Tauriel’s face, and not get too taken in by how beautiful she still looked with that red hair, and those green eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light of the few flaming torches that dotted the park.
“And what of you?” Tauriel asked.
“Me? Oh, you know… busy with this wedding…” he waved a hand.
“Kili…”
“There’s no one,” he said abruptly. “Just you. There’s only ever been you.”
“I thought you let me go.”
“I did… and I’m alright. I miss you sometimes… but I’m alright.”
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“I’m not unhappy.” Kili touched her shoulder, but refrained from running his fingers through the few strands of her hair that were within reach.
“That is not the same thing.”
“No, but it’s still better than crushingly sad.”
Tauriel reached over and cupped his cheek. “I am sorry I never came back sooner.” She felt more beard than stubble on his face - though it was still quite short by even Human standards - and knew it had indeed been a long while. “I miss you sometimes, too.”
“You’re here now.” This time he did touch her hair, as she leaned in closer.
“I am…”
The kiss felt familiar to him - a little fiery, a little grounded. She still smelled of trees, though now with a touch of sunstars and snowdrops; and she still kissed like she wanted to engulf him. He claimed a second kiss, then pulled back, a question in his eyes: how far?
She kissed him again in response, then stood and pulled him up with her, and together, they left the park.
~*~
The following morning Tilda near-skipped along the short path to Tauriel’s lodgings, a small basket of muffins on her arm, and an invitation from Sigrid for the three of them to spend some women-time together at some point before the wedding. The idea of being considered one of the women now, and not just a little girl anymore, excited her, but at the same time, it was with childish delight that she looked forward to showing her Elf friend the muffins she had managed to bake all by herself - she had even put berries in them because she knew Tauriel loved them.
She knocked on the door and stepped back, trying to remain calm. It opened after a considerable moment, and Tauriel stood there wearing a pair of soft grey trousers and a deep green shirt. Her long red hair was undone and seemed a bit messy for an Elf, Tilda thought, and she looked like she had just woken up.
“Tilda! Good morning,” she said. “What a surprise!”
“Good morning!” Tilda replied, handing her the basket. “I thought you might like some breakfast.”
The door opened a bit more as Tauriel released it to accept the girl’s offering, and a movement inside made Tilda look past her into the room. To her own surprise she saw Kili seated on the edge of the bed, dressed in what looked to be his previous day’s clothes and his hair just as messy as Tauriel’s. He, too, looked like he had not been long awake.
“Kili?!” she asked in a bit of disbelief as an uncomfortable feeling started to grow in the pit of her stomach.
“At your service,” he answered with a bit of a sheepish smile, as he stood and bowed.
“You’re here quite early.”
“Ah yes, about that… I did not actually go home last night,” he said, a bit of pink colouring his cheeks.
Tauriel set the basket down on a nearby table. “It was quite late, and we decided it would be safer for him to sleep here than attempt to return to Erebor alone in the dark.”
When Tilda had just turned twelve, she had woken one morning with smears on her bedsheets. Shortly after that, Sigrid had sat her down and explained to her what it meant, amongst various other things about bodies and attraction she deemed important for her to know. So looking at the two of them, she knew that more had happened in that bed than just sleeping. Her eyes rested on Kili again and she felt a pang in her chest, even as her face flushed and her mind reeled with a dozen imaginings.
“Tilda? Are you alright?” Tauriel asked, reaching for her. “Maybe sit down for a moment.”
She hurriedly backed away, the ache in her chest growing at the thought of Kili having been so close to the Elf - closer than she could get - and she suddenly resented Tauriel a little.
“No. I’m fine,” she said. “I need to get home.”
“Tilda…” Kili started to say, taking a step towards the door.
“Leave me alone!”
Turning, she ran back down the path, and away from the building, ignoring the worried calls of her name as she swiped angrily at the tears that rolled down her face. Reaching her house, she burst through the doors, ignoring her father’s hail and tearing around the corner to her room, shutting the door with a solid bang and throwing herself on her bed.
She did not know why it hurt, did not know why she even felt this way because there was a part of her that remembered that Kili had always looked at Tauriel in a way that he never looked at anyone else. Yet, there was another part of her now that wanted him to look at her in that way. And it was all so very unfair of everything that he wouldn’t.
Tilda stayed in her bed most of that day, either ignoring the knocks on the door from her father, or screaming in response to the knocks from her brother. At this moment, the only one she really wanted was Sigrid, but she remembered that her sister was in Erebor overseeing wedding preparations - probably having to choose more flowers - and would not be back for a couple of days.
In a moment of sheer anger, she picked up her solid brass candlestick - another gift from one of the Dwarves at some point - and hurled it at a wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Then she sank back on her bed feeling suddenly exhausted.
Stupid, stupid roses.
~*~
The next afternoon found Tilda back in the Dale Marketplace, though this time she was on her own. Her emotions were turbulent about it - on the one hand she kind of missed having Kili there to talk to about the various wares on sale, especially any needlework; on the other, she still wasn’t sure if she could look at him without feeling this strange mixture of butterflies and jealousy.
Around her, bright, colourful banners now adorned some of the pillars and balconies of the buildings, houses and trees, sporting the sigils of both Dale and Erebor - another sign that the wedding was drawing closer. She thought they would look better with some flowers as well, but then realised Sigrid probably still had not chosen yet, and people were waiting on her decision before proceeding any further.
Tilda huffed to herself. How hard could it possibly be to choose a flower? She already knew what she wanted, and she was nowhere near to getting married yet. Idly she wondered if people would think it strange if both Dwarven Princes ended up wed to the two Ladies of Dale. Fili will of course be a fine husband to Sigrid - anyone who looks at them can tell how in love he is with her - but she knew that Kili was more than just the wild, younger Prince that others thought him to be; that he was also capable of great devotion.
And how nice would it be if he was as devoted to her? Maybe he’d bring her flowers every day - not roses though - and adorn her in beautiful gowns in all the colours of the jewels mined in the Mountain.
Someone bumped her shoulder and she snapped out of her daydream. Taking a sharp breath, she resumed her walk through the market, heading for the thread-seller’s stall. There was a gift she was making for Sigrid that she wanted to present to her sister before the big day, and she needed to get on with finishing it.
“Excuse me,” she said as she pushed past a body to reach the table.
“Tilda? Good Afternoon!” a familiar voice said.
She looked up - not far - into warm, brown eyes, and the butterflies stirred in her stomach again. But she forced herself to act composed. “Good Afternoon, Kili”.
“It’s good to see you.” He smiled at her.
Tilda forced down the warm feeling in her chest that threatened to put strange words in her mouth. “It is nice to see you as well.”
Kili tilted his head slightly, wondering at her tone, but before he could say anything, Tauriel was once more at his side, and Tilda busied herself with choosing her threads. She did not mean to eavesdrop, but given they were standing right beside her, she could not help but overhear.
“... days’ time, we have arranged for a small hunting party,” Tauriel was saying. “It would be nice if you could come with us.”
“I don’t know if I can spare the time. The wedding…”
“Kili, son of Dís, if you use that wedding as an excuse again, I will tie you to a horse and drop you in the River Running.”
The Dwarf made a face that Tilda pretended not to notice, as she paid the seller and bagged her purchases. Whatever her feelings were for Kili, she understood Tauriel’s frustration over what could only be his reluctance to take up his bow again. She had been trying for years and had gotten nowhere.
“Could I at least have a chance to think about it over lunch with Tilda here?” Kili asked.
The girl blinked in surprise at the mention of her name, while Tauriel’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through his poor attempt at putting off an answer. But as she looked at Tilda and then back to him, she seemed to relent.
“Very well. But I want a response in no less than two days,” she said. “And do not think you can hide away in your mountain either. I know where you reside, and Fili will not shield you this time.”
“Absolutely,” Kili replied a bit too brightly. “Come, Tilda. Let us find some food.”
He steered her out of the market and away from the Elf’s scrutiny, and once she was out of sight, for a moment Tilda thought he was then going to leave her and be on his way. So she was surprised again when he led her to a small tavern and sat at a table. She sat across from him and tried not to let her mouth water too much, as he placed an order with the barmaid for some cups of juice and the lamb and grain tajine.
While they waited for their food, they exchanged a few words about what Tilda was making, and how Sigrid was coming along with choosing the final flowers and decor for the wedding. No mention was made of her visit the previous morning. Their order arrived, and they wasted no time in tucking into their lunch, and once the food and drink eventually dwindled, Tilda thought back to the brief chat he’d had with Tauriel in the market.
“You should go with them,” she said, scooping up the last of her gravy-soaked grains in her spoon.
Kili looked up from his plate. “Pardon?”
“Tauriel and the hunting party - you should go with them,” Tilda repeated.
His fingers twitched and he picked up his fork, jabbing at a piece of meat with it. “Leave it be, Tilda.” He popped the meat in his mouth.
She frowned at him. “Kili, it has been years since you last used your bow. You can’t keep putting it off; there’s going to be a time you’ll have to use it.”
“I said, leave it be,” he repeated, voice a little sharper.
“At some point you’ll need it to protect us, and then what are you going to do?! Hide behind a wall of stone? Let others do the fighting?!” She poured all her frustration with him from the last two days into her voice. “That’s not the Kili I know.”
He frowned this time and it was one of the rare times she had seen that expression cross his face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and a lot you don’t understand. You are only 13 years old.”
Having who she thought was her best friend use the same words on her that her sister had was all a bit too much for her. “And you are being a coward!” she snapped loudly at him.
Kili blinked. “Tilda…”
“You’re a coward!” she repeated, heedless of some of the eyes that started to glance in their direction. “You’re supposed to be from the Line of Durin; you’re supposed to have all this strength and power, and yet here you are too scared to even pick up a little bow and arrow. Some Dwarf you are!”
She regretted the last few words as soon as they left her mouth, especially when she saw the look of hurt flash across her friend’s face. But it was too late to take them back, so she stood and gathered up her bag.
Kili regarded her with those deep brown eyes that she refused to meet. “And being careless means people get hurt,” he said quietly.
Tilda knew that wasn’t quite meant for her, but it fed into her guilt nonetheless and made her all the more angry with him for giving her these feelings. So she dug in harder. “And I cannot believe I ever thought you were my hero.”
With that parting shot she stalked off, feeling even worse when Kili did not call her back or come after her, but it was only when she turned the corner and was sure he could not see her anymore that she swiped a sleeve across her face to soak up the angry tears that had rolled down her cheeks.
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Chapter Text
CHAPTER FIVE
The swing-seat was a reminder of the friend she had not seen in weeks, so she sat on the grass instead and made a few more marks on her slate with her chalk before sighing in frustration and rubbing them out with her sleeve. They all looked too much like mountains. Frustrated, she tossed her slate aside and lay back, staring at the deepening blue sky overhead.
And that was where Sigrid found her sister.
“There you are,” she said, stepping down into the back garden. “I looked for you at the market on my way here, but some of the traders said they had not seen you in days. Are you well?”
Tilda gave a loud sigh and then sat up. “Perfectly well, sister.”
“Is that why Bain is afraid to come out here?”
“No, it’s because he’s just another stupid boy.”
“Hmm.” Sigrid moved to sit on the swing-seat and slowly rocked herself back and forth, noting that Tilda’s eyes followed her every move. “This is wonderful. How nice that the Dwarves made it for us.”
“Kili made it for me,” Tilda said before she could stop herself.
It was all Sigrid needed to pounce. “And how is Kili?” she asked. “The marketfolk mentioned they had not seen him lately either. Do you know if he’s well?”
“You should ask Tauriel; he seems to be spending all his days and nights with her.” There was a notable tone of bitterness to Tilda’s voice that even had she been able to hide it, showed plainly on her face. “Anyway, what are you doing back here? Shouldn’t you be preparing for your wedding, choosing flowers or such things?”
If Sigrid was taking on anything from having spent so much time with Fili and some of the other Dwarves, it was their general sense of stubbornness, and no amount of deflecting by her little sister was going to dissuade her from finding out what had happened between her and Kili.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” she replied. “Which is why I am back here, to oversee the final decorations for Dale. Just because Erebor is hosting the wedding itself does not mean our city has to look shabby.” She fingered a lock of her hair then. “And I did look for Tauriel this morning as well, to remind her of our maidens’ night. Seems this was the first she had heard of this.” She levelled a pointed look at her sister then, who looked fairly sheepish. “Anyway, Kili was not there; she mentioned she has been meeting him away from the City.”
“Perhaps he is just tired of coming here.” Tilda lay back on the grass again, folding her arms behind her head with a sigh. “After all, what can we offer him that a whole mountain of gold can’t?”
Sigrid raised an eyebrow. “How about friendship?” She tossed a handkerchief with familiar looking embroidery on to Tilda’s lap.
The younger girl sat up indignant, not touching the handkerchief. “Why do you have this?!” she demanded. “Have you been sneaking around in my room?! That’s not fair, Sig. You should not have gone in there without asking me!”
“Calm down!” Sigrid replied. “I’ve not been in your room. I needed a couple of extra handkerchiefs, and these were in the clean basket in the washroom, so I… borrowed one. I just had it cleaned again and came to return it to you.”
Tilda shoved the handkerchief into a pocket. “He does not want my friendship.” Her voice still dripped bitterness. “He thinks I’m just a silly 13-year-old girl.”
The young woman tried not to smile. “But you are a silly 13-year-old girl.”
“If that’s all you have come to say, then go away!” The girl levelled her sister with a scowl that could have stripped paint.
But such expressions were ineffective on Sigrid, who had spent most of her life raising the girl after their mother died. “Everyone is silly at 13,” she said. She got off the swing and came to sit beside Tilda, though did not touch her for now. “So perhaps you would like to tell me what is going on with you, and what has caused this rift between you and Kili?”
Tilda wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on her knees. “I thought I was special to him - as more than just friends. And then Tauriel turned up again, and he started spending more time with her…”
“As more than just friends?” Sigrid asked and got a nod in reply. “I see… Has Kili ever told you he sees you that way?”
“Well… No. Not really.”
“Good. Otherwise I would need to have words with him.”
The younger girl eyed her curiously. “Why is that good? I don’t understand.”
“Because you’re only 13,” Sigrid said gently. “And 13 is far too young to be thinking of courting, let alone spending nights together - with anyone, not just Kili.”
“Then why do I feel this way?” Tilda asked. “Like I want him to just take me in his arms and hold me and kiss me, but at the same time I want to knock him over the head?”
“Because you read too many romance novels,” she teased her sister. “But do you remember that day when I told you that your body had started to change?” Tilda nodded. “Well, your feelings and emotions start to change, too. You start seeing some people differently; sometimes you hope they see you differently; sometimes a lot of these feelings build up until you finally lash out and say things you don’t really mean.”
The girl sighed. “I… may have lashed out at Kili.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted him to stop being so afraid of his own bow.”
Sigrid glanced at her. “Did you know he nearly shot Fili with it?” Tilda looked at her with wide eyes, and she nodded. “It was years ago. Fili said that he was having one of his waking nightmares, and fired his bow at what he thought was an enemy. Fili ducked in time, but it shook Kili up a lot.”
“Oh. He never told me.” She picked at the hem of her dress. “I did not mean to say what I did to him. Sometimes it feels as if the words keep tumbling out before I can stop them… does it ever get easier?”
Sigrid rubbed her back gently. “Not easier, but you do learn to control it better as you get older.”
“I wish I was older now.”
“Well I don’t.” Sigrid nudged her. “Because if you were older, I would not be able to say: let’s go and get some shaved ice from the sweet shop.”
“But it’s close to dinner time!”
“Exactly.”
She got to her feet and held out a hand to help Tilda up. Tilda took the offered hand and let her sister pull her up before dusting off her skirts. She was about to follow her to the garden gate, when she stopped, remembering something.
“Actually, can you wait a moment? There’s something I need to get from inside.”
Curious, Sigrid watched her run back into the house and sat on a small stone bench to wait for her. The Fire Topaz on her finger caught the light and sparkled, and she glanced at it briefly before she sat up straighter from the slouch she had been in, just like Dori had shown her. She was soon to be Princess of Erebor, and princesses did not slouch, or so he had said.
She then dropped her shoulders and slightly raised her head. The key was to appear as though she was watching over everyone without making them feel like she was above everyone, or so Balin had said as he coached her through her paces, particularly because she would be towering over most of Erebor’s population, just by nature of her being a taller Human. She envied how it came so easily to Fili, and especially to Thorin, but then they had been coached for this moment for longer than she had been alive.
Standing, she started to practice her walking - not just for the wedding, but for every future occasion from now on. No longer would she be looked at as a common girl from a small fishing village. Now she was expected to be as regal as the rest of the royal family.
And that was where Tilda found her, pacing up and down the small garden as if it was one of Erebor’s large halls. There was a look on her sister’s face that said that she was determined not to embarrass herself or her family in front of anyone that still held reservations about this marriage.
“You’re going to be a wonderful princess,” she said.
Sigrid looked over, and a smirk played on her face. “And you will make a wonderful Lady of Dale.”
Tilda cringed as she went over to her sister. “You’re almost making me not want to give this to you.” She held out a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a pale blue ribbon. “Here. An early wedding gift.”
“Oh you shouldn’t have!” Sigrid took the parcel and sat back down on the stone bench, back straight, shoulders down.
She unwrapped the gift to reveal two pairs of gloves: one pair white cotton, embroidered with what was unmistakably heartsease. The other pair was brown deerskin with a simple pair of harebells embroidered on each. Both were common wildflowers that grew in the valley around them.
“These are beautiful!” she said.
Tilda gave a small shrug. “I thought you could wear the white ones to formal occasions like balls, and the brown ones for when you go out riding.”
Sigrid hugged her. “I love them. Thank you for making them for me. Though how did you know I’d choose heartsease as my wedding flower?”
“You dislike roses as much as I do. And you were always collecting them those years to help Fili when he was recovering; said they helped some of his wounds.” Tilda nodded to the gate. “Can we go now?”
The elder laughed and tucked both pairs of gloves into her pockets, then stood and led the way to the gate.
~*~
Two evenings before the wedding found Tilda en route to Erebor along with a small group of her household. Bain would follow the next day, with Sigrid and their father of course departing the City on the morning of the wedding itself.
While the journey to the Lonely Mountain was short, it was still later than Tilda would have liked to leave, but between helping her sister with last-minute errands, and helping some of the townsfolk with their last-minute queries, the hours had flown by and the daylight was starting to fade. So it had been either travel in the evening or wait until the next day and travel with her brother, and as much as she loved Bain, she found him an aggravating travelling companion.
Her old trunk with her wedding attire and other items she would need for the next few days had been loaded onto a small goat-drawn wagon, driven by an older woman named Alva who helped around the house. Tilda sat on her small hill pony, Buttercup. With them on foot were two Dale guards personally known to her father, who carried flaming torches in addition to the short swords at their sides. Together they had set off around dusk, hoping they could reach the Mountain before darkness truly set in.
The first hour passed without incident and as they neared the halfway point of their journey, Tilda thought they might reach the front Gates unharmed. The only alarm they had was Buttercup’s anxious whinny before the goblins set upon them.
Trained by Bard himself the guards dispatched four before they could lay a blow. Tilda held tight to Buttercup’s reins trying her best to stay in the saddle as dark shapes ran towards them and the pony reared and neighed in alarm. He dropped and Tilda heard a shriek from under them quickly followed by a sharp crack as the pony’s hooves broke bones.
Behind them she heard a crash and the goats braying in panic and she risked a glance behind her to see the wagon overturn and her trunk fall out. Alva rose, seemingly unharmed, and reached for a spear that had landed on the ground, quickly dispatching two goblins that tried to rush her.
“Ride, My Lady!” she cried to the girl. “Ride to the Mountain! We will hold them off!”
Tilda thought to protest, but knew she would only get in the way. She would help them more by reaching Erebor and raising the alarm. She tried to turn Buttercup and ride up the slope as another goblin rushed them. The pony swung round and lashed out with his rear hooves, kicking the goblin off, and Tilda pulled on the reins to turn him towards the Mountain. She was just about to urge Buttercup into a gallop when a large weight pulled on her leg and she found herself falling off the saddle.
She landed hard on her side and arm, and quickly rolled onto her back, but before she could get to her feet a goblin loomed over her, a crude blade raised to strike. Tilda squeezed her eyes shut and threw up her arms to block the blow.
A dull thwack made her look up, in time to see the creature drop the blade and fall back dead, an arrow sticking up from its neck. She gasped, recognising the fletching, and turned to see Kili fire three more arrows off his bow in quick succession, each one finding its mark in a goblin that had surrounded Alva. A blur of gold, red and brown sped past her, and she heard more shrieks as the goblins found themselves having to deal with new foes. Kili shot another arrow past her, then came towards her and held out a hand.
She took it without hesitation, and as he pulled her up, she grabbed him in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m happy we got to you in time,” he replied, returning her hug and then moving her carefully behind him before shooting another goblin that had been creeping up on Buttercup.
“You’re using your bow again!”
“Someone told me I should stop being afraid of it, because I might need to use it to protect those I care about.” He gave her a small smile. “She was right.”
Tilda ducked her head a little shyly, then looked at the scene around them. Between Tauriel, Fili, and Dwalin, they had quickly finished off the goblins and were now checking on Alva and the two guards who were thankfully alive, if a little knocked about. Buttercup and the goats had also survived. She went to soothe her pony and check on the damage.
“How did you know we were in trouble?” she asked.
Dwalin and Tauriel lifted the wagon back onto its wheels again while Fili checked on the guards and Alva, giving them water from a flagon he carried with him, trusting Kili to check on Tilda.
“When you had not reached the Mountain by nightfall, we figured something might have happened to you along the way,” Fili said. “So we made the decision to ride out and see if you needed help.”
“Your help was much appreciated,” one of the guards said.
“We’d best not linger here,” Dwalin said. “Where there’s one orc-pack, there’s bound to be another. Load what can be saved onto the cart. You guards, help me stack the bodies for burning. We’ll send a message that the lands between Dale and Erebor are not to be trifled with.”
Tilda went to where her trunk had landed and gave a small cry. Her trunk had opened upon impact with the ground, and many of her things lay scattered. Fili brought over two more torches and together he, Kili, Alva, and Tauriel tried to help her pack as much of her things as they could find back into the trunk. With a sigh of dismay, she held up the dress she had planned to wear to the wedding.
“Oh it’s ruined,” she said as Kili came over to comfort her.
The light-coloured fabric was spattered and smeared with dirt, mud, and goblin blood; and a jagged goblin blade had ripped a large, ugly tear down one side of the skirt.
“Just pack it in the trunk for now. There’s nothing we can do here,” he said.
Tilda all but threw the dress into the wagon, then went to find her pony. She swung herself onto Buttercup’s saddle, trying not to cry. The gown had not been cheap.
Around her the others prepared to resume their journey to Erebor. Tauriel had re-hitched the goats to the wagon along with her own horse, and now drove it so Alva and the guards could rest in the back. The Dwarves mounted the large mountain rams they liked to ride as flames now devoured the bodies of the dead goblins.
“I’ll send a raven in the morning to inform Lord Bard of what happened so he can double his guard on the city and for any entourages still to make their way to the Mountain,” Fili said. “And to let him know you’re safely with us now, Tilda.”
She could only nod as Kili rode up beside her.
“I’ll mention to Thorin that it might be best if we sent a small escort of our own for Lady Sigrid on the day of the wedding,” Dwalin added. “Though I hope this was nothing more than a one-off rag-tag band of goblins that happened to try their luck.”
She nodded again. “Thank you, Mister Dwalin.”
The column of riders and wagon began to move, Fili and Dwalin leading the way with Tauriel bringing up the rear in the wagon. Kili kept Tilda in the middle so she would be protected in the chance there was another attack. She rode in subdued silence, but every now and then tried to stifle a sniffle.
Kili reached over and placed a hand over hers as she held Buttercup’s reins.
“Tilda…” he started to say.
“I’m sorry,” she cut him off. “I’m sorry for what I said that day, and for how I’ve behaved. You’re not a coward; you’re actually one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. And you’re a wonderful Dwarf.”
“Your apology is accepted,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze. “And hey, don’t worry about your dress. I’ll find a way to save it. I promise.”
~*~
The morning of the wedding finally dawned, and Tilda woke in a swirl of excitement and anxiety. On the one hand, she knew it was going to be a wonderful day - most of her family had arrived save Sigrid and her father; there had been no orc attacks on Bain’s entourage the day before, and scouts from both Dale and Erebor led by Tauriel and Dwalin had done sweeps of the lands around the Mountain’s flanks to ensure there were no packs waiting to ambush the bride.
Within Erebor, Dwarves, and the select group of Humans that had been chosen to assist with the wedding, bustled about putting finishing touches on everything. Hallways the bride would be walking through were decorated with cream and pale green banners, and bunches of heartsease hung at regular intervals from towering pillars. Everywhere else, the Mountain was awash with splashes of colour.
The night before Kili had taken her to peek in at the Great Hall where the main wedding would take place, and Tilda had been in awe of how it all looked. Chandeliers with hundreds of candles hung just above the floor, waiting to be lit, and the hall itself was decorated with the same banners and flowers as the hallways.
She sat up with a sigh. If only her dress had not been ruined. The Dwarven launderers had managed to remove all the blood and mud, but while the dress was clean, lingering stains and the large rend down the skirt still remained that made the dress unwearable. Kili had whisked it away with only a “trust me” and Tilda had not seen it - or him - since, with the exception of when he had shown her the hall.
There was a knock on her door and she opened it to find a Dwarf-woman outside with a tray of breakfast. More smells wafted in and made her realise how hungry she was. She accepted the tray with a smile and thanked the Dwarf.
“Everything smells so wonderful!” she said.
“Bombur has the kitchens going at full capacity,” the Dwarf replied. “It will certainly be a feast tonight. And we have much to celebrate.”
Tilda set the tray down and turned back to her. “Do you know if Prince Kili is about?” she asked.
“‘Fraid not, lass. I’ve been in the kitchens all morning,” she replied. “I’m sure he’ll be around later….If that is all for now?”
“Yes, thank you. This all looks delicious.”
The Dwarf took her leave, and Tilda sat at the little table to dig in. The breakfast was hearty - rashers of bacon, toast, eggs, and mushrooms, and glasses of goat milk and apple juice. She had as much as her stomach could hold, and left the empty tray outside.
She spent the rest of the morning soaking in the bath wondering what she was going to wear that evening. There was a day dress, but it was a shabby, faded old thing more suited for household chores and getting dirty outside than a wedding. She doubted even the Dwarves could restore its colour and brightness. Idly she wondered how Sigrid was getting on.
As she dried herself off, now smelling of marigold and a touch of pine, there was another knock on the door. Quickly pulling on her underclothes and a shift, Tilda answered it to find Alva and another Dwarven attendant outside, their arms laden with things to get her ready. She let them enter and stepped back, wondering what they planned to do.
“This is Elín,” Alva introduced the Dwarf. “She will be doing your hair and assisting with getting you dressed.”
“Your help is appreciated,” Tilda said as she sat in front of the mirror. “But what am I to wear? My only good dress was damaged in the goblin raid.”
“That is being taken care of, lass,” Elín replied. She unpinned the girl’s hair and let the light brown waves tumble down. “Lovely. I can work with this.”
Tilda sat patiently as Elín combed, braided, pinned, and adorned her hair with sparkling silver chains and jewels, while Alva rubbed her arms and neck with a shimmery powder, and filed and smoothed the edges of her fingernails. As the women worked, there was a knock on the door. Alva answered it and accepted a large, flat box with thanks.
“And just in time, too,” said Elín.
Tilda turned in her chair and watched as Alva opened the box and drew out her dress, holding it up for her to see. She couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her. It looked like her gown, but it also looked different. It had been dyed the softest, pale blue, and what looked like embroidered flowering vines snaked their way up the skirt where they stopped just below a pale gold belt that went round the waist. The tear had been mended and covered up by the embroidery so that she could not even tell it was there.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“It was Prince Kili’s idea,” Elín said. “The dressmakers fixed the tear and dyed it to cover the stains. He and Master Dori, and Ori spent all of yesterday and last night doing the embroidery. They must have finished this morning.”
Tilda forced herself not to cry so she would not ruin the powder she had on her face, though she could not help the small sniffle that escaped her. Alva beckoned her over, and she stood, stepping into the dress and standing still while they pulled it up and started to lace the back. The sleeves, she found, came only halfway down her arms, flaring out at the elbow; they had the same embroidery as the skirt, and she noticed the small purple flowers were meant to be sweet violets. The women added the final touches by way of jewellery and stepped back, admiring their work.
“Yes, very nice.” Alva nodded her approval after helping Tilda into a pair of soft, satin shoes.
“Prince Kili requests your presence in Bluestone Hall,” Elín said. “You’re ready. You may go.”
Tilda all but ran from the room, being careful not to trip on her skirts. She knew Bluestone Hall well. It was a small, informal room Fili and Kili had excavated years ago and now used for entertaining close friends and family. She rounded a corner and burst through the doors, then stopped short. Kili looked over, resplendent in his signature teal colours accented with brown and pale gold, and smiled. A small circlet of silver shone in his dark hair.
“You look wonderful!” he exclaimed and held out his arms.
She did not hesitate to throw herself into them, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Thank you so much for saving my dress,” she said. “I know all that embroidery must have taken ages.”
“Well, I had some help.” Kili hugged her, then stepped back towards a small chest that sat on the table. “Just one final touch.” He held up a delicate diadem woven of four strands of silver into an intricate pattern. Tilda ducked so he could reach and he placed it carefully on her head, making sure he did nothing to mess Elín’s intricate work. “There. Beautiful.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
Tilda wrapped her arm around his and rested her hand in its usual spot. “Let’s go have some fun.”
~*~
When Tilda finally retired to her bed in the early hours of the next morning, she lay exhausted but content.
The ceremony had been lovely. Sigrid had looked breathtaking in her sparkling gown of cream and green, hair intricately braided in Dwarven fashion, and she just about dripped with gold and jewels. Tilda did not want to imagine how heavy it all was, but her sister carried it proudly. Fili could not take his eyes off her, and even their father had struggled to hold back tears.
After Mister Balin and King Thorin had officially announced them to be married, they had all gone out to a large balcony and the bells had rung in both Dale and Erebor; and fireworks - provided by a certain grey wizard - lit up the darkening sky. From there it had just been one big party, and she had spent most of it eating her fill, and dancing mainly with Kili until she could barely stand.
Now, snuggling under her covers, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, and she dreamed of dark hair and wildflowers.
================
Chapter Text
CHAPTER SIX
One of the first things Tilda had taken to doing once she woke up was water the little Mountain Star flower that sat in its pot by her window. The plant had been Kili’s gift to her for her 17th birthday - he had somehow managed to carefully extract one from the mountainside - shortly before he left to go West on an errand for King Thorin. That had been a good while ago, and while she no longer saw him as a romantic interest - he still teased her about it though - he was still her best friend, and she missed him terribly, especially now that she was the only one left in the house besides her father.
Sigrid lived in the Lonely Mountain with Fili, and Bain was away in Rohan gaining some much-needed riding experience. Her sister came down to visit at times, particularly in the early days when she was still getting used to being a wife and running her own household, in addition to being a princess, but through Fili’s patience and devotion she soon got used to her new roles. These days she saw her less - royal duties also included the occasional bout of travel to strengthen diplomatic ties with other kingdoms - unless it was a special occasion like a birthday or Midwinter.
This morning Tilda checked her diary, and seeing that she had no errands to run nor appointments with any townsfolk, she grabbed her bag and decided to head out to the market. The Dale Market was still as busy as ever, with traders now coming from beyond Dale and Erebor, even as far as the Iron Hills, The Carrock, and parts of Rhovanion, and had expanded to a second street.
These days she could confidently weave in and out of the crowds of people bustling around the marketplace, so it took her no time at all to reach her favourite thread seller. The woman knew her (and Kili) fairly well by now, and always kept some of her newer stock aside to show her before they went on sale to everyone else, and Tilda appreciated the thought. This day she bought several skeins of a finer, silkier type of thread because she had a nagging suspicion that she might be needing them soon.
Thanking the seller, she tucked the package away in her bag, then turned away as she checked her small coin pouch to see if she still had enough to purchase a few other things. Busy as she was with her counting, she did not see the figure in front of her until she collided with it, falling back and landing on her bottom. “Ow…”
“My most sincere apologies,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady. Are you alright?”
Tilda looked up at a pair of grey eyes framed by shoulder-length dark hair, and the faintest shadow of a beard. The man looked back at her with a slightly sheepish expression - it was almost adorable, she thought - and held out a hand to help her up. She took it, trying to ignore the slight fluttering in her stomach that she had not felt in a while, and let him pull her up.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“That is understandable. It is fairly busy here, is it not? I have never seen a market like this.” The man’s accent was not one she had heard before.
“I take it you’re not from around these parts, then?” she asked.
“No. I come from Eriador - lands over the Misty Mountains and west of here. This is my first time so far East, and I must say: this is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen.”
Tilda smiled. “Have you seen many cities?”
“This is my first one.” He looked at her and then blinked, almost as if he was only now seeing her for the first time. “And I should add: its ladies are fairer still.”
“So you’ve been watching the ladies?” she teased.
“Truly. Though none have been more beautiful than you, my lady.”
There was an earnestness in his voice that told her he was being quite honest, and she tried not to blush too much at the compliment. She looked him over again and noted that he was not that much older than her - probably no more than three years.
“I accept your praise with grace,” she replied, and then gave a slight startle as the bells rang the hour. “I must be on my way. I hope you enjoy the city.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, fair lady,” he said.
She smiled at him one last time before rejoining the crowd of the marketplace, where she soon lost him from sight, though not from her mind. Of course it was only after she had gotten home that she realised she had not asked his name, nor given hers. But if he was visiting Dale, she hoped he was staying for a few days so she could try to find him again.
If only Kili was around, he could track him down in no time, she thought.
~*~
He had not realised how much he missed the fresh mountain air until he was away from it. The wilds of Eriador would always be a home to him - given how he had spent most of his life around there - but in the past eight or so years he had gradually grown to see the Lonely Mountain as somewhere he would spend the rest of his life.
Kili let out a slow breath and loosed the arrow, smirking to himself when it hit the centre of his tree target with a satisfying thwack. He set another arrow to the string and drew it back. His arm held the bow steady, his fingers stayed firm on the string. He loosed again and the arrow joined its counterpart in the centre of the target.
Around him he could hear the birds chirp overhead, and the rustle of small animals as they moved through the branches and the undergrowth. Life had slowly been returning to the woods around Erebor and he was glad for it, and not just because that meant they could all eat better now that hunting prospects had improved with the return of the deer and wild goats.
He twirled a third arrow around his fingers and was contemplating how he could challenge himself with this one, when he heard a twig snap behind him, followed by the startled flight of a flock of small sparrows. Eight years ago the sound would have sent him into a panic attack, but now he barely flinched. The tremors in his hands had subsided - and with them the flashbacks - and he only had the odd twitch in his arms now and then.
“You must teach me how to do that,” a voice said.
Kili smiled and grasped the arrow in his hand before turning to face the speaker. “In due time, Orodel,” he said. “First, you need to learn how to walk a lot more quietly. Aren’t all you Rangers taught to move silently?”
The young man he spoke to shrugged. “Must have missed that class.”
The Dwarf shook his head. “You’re going to get me in trouble when you return to Eriador not having learned a single thing.”
“On the contrary, I will have learned a great deal: the names of all the plants that grow here, and their uses in medicine and healing.”
“You lot already have a magical healing plant,” Kili pointed out.
“And it is getting rarer to find these days,” Orodel replied. “The more options we have, the better, especially for less serious ailments. Then we can save the kingsfoil for more grievous injuries.”
Kili thought back to when Tauriel had used it to save his life from the orc poison. “It certainly has its uses.”
“Yet many here seem to manage without it.” Orodel sat on a tree stump. “In the Dale Market I saw a few stalls selling tinctures and tonics and salves made from wild flora that grows in the valley. It was fascinating! A seller had boiled sweets made from lemon, honey and mint that can soothe a sore throat.”
Kili sat on the grass beside him. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a good first day in these Eastern lands.”
“Oh, I have. And I…” A touch of pink coloured his cheeks. “I also met a really pretty girl.”
The Dwarf could not help but laugh then. “A girl? Well, you have had a productive day.”
“I do not know if ‘met’ is the right word, however. I may have knocked her over by accident. But she was fine, as in, she was uninjured.” Orodel made a face at his babbling.
“Dale lasses are hardy folk,” Kili replied. “It’s why my brother married one, and I count her younger sister one of my dearest friends. But your girl… What was her name?”
“Do you know, I completely forgot to ask her. And forgot to tell her mine.”
Kili laughed again. “You are hopeless, you know that?” He reached up and patted the young man on the arm. “But fret not. I’ll wander down to Dale tomorrow and see Tilda - I’ve missed her, and I should probably let her know I’m back - and I’ll invite her up to Erebor. She knows a lot of the young maidens in Dale, I daresay she can help us find your mystery girl.”
“That would be very appreciated.” Orodel stood then. “In that case I suppose I should get some practice in, so she does not think me a complete buffoon.”
He picked up the longbow that was lying on the grass, and Kili passed him an arrow before nodding to the target tree.
“Shoot for the heart, my friend.”
~*~
The first thing Tilda noticed was that she was now just a little bit taller than Kili. The second was how he had barely aged in the last four years while she had gone through a considerable physical transformation from girl to woman.
It struck her then the sacrifice Fili had made when he’d married her sister - once Sigrid passed, Fili would be left to live out another human lifetime without her. If she remembered what Balin had said on their wedding day, Dwarves only married once. Maybe that was why Kili preferred to remain single, with only the occasional dalliance whenever Tauriel came to visit.
“Something on your mind?” Kili asked her as they rode up the slope to Erebor together.
“Just thoughts about life,” she replied.
“That’s quite a heavy subject. Would you like to share any?”
“Would you ever get married?” Tilda asked him.
Kili blinked, not expecting that question. “Uhh, I don’t know. Can’t say I’ve thought about it much. I suppose if the right person came along.”
“What about Tauriel?”
“I do not believe she has any interest in marriage. She prefers being free; and I would not ask her to tie herself down to any one mortal.” The Dwarf eyed her. “Why do you ask?”
“I suppose I worry about you being alone.”
He smiled gently. “That’s kind, but I am content for now….” He regarded her. “Are you worried about being alone?”
“I’m not sure. Sigrid had already caught Fili’s eye - amongst others - when she was this age, but here I am haring about Dale and Erebor without any suitor in sight. I know I am not as beautiful—”
“You kindly stop right there,” Kili interrupted. “You are both beautiful ladies, and I will not have you speak of yourself otherwise. Also, you know you don’t have to wait for anyone to ask you. If there’s someone you fancy, you should ask him.”
Tilda laughed. “Da would have a fit, can you imagine?” She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. “I did meet this one nice lad in the market yesterday. Briefly.”
“Oh aye?” Kili raised a brow. “Give me a name and I will be sure to terrify him into never breaking your heart,” he teased.
“I can terrify all on my own, thank you,” she replied. “And Da will probably beat you to it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I forgot to ask his name.”
“More’s the pity,” he said.
They rounded the bend and crossed over the small bridge over the river; and as they neared the main gates leading into Erebor, they heard the unmistakable clash of metal on metal. Briefly Tilda thought back to the time four years ago when her small group had been waylaid by goblins on the way to the Lonely Mountain, and she was momentarily inclined to spur Buttercup into a gallop. But Kili seemed unperturbed by the sound, so she relaxed her grip on the reins.
As they drew closer she saw the source of the noise: new dwarven recruits being put through their paces, and in the centre of it all Dwalin was sparring with what was unmistakably a Man. He wielded a simple broadsword and while he was competent with it, he did not seem very comfortable with it. The sound of her and Kili’s ponies drew his attention to them, and Tilda gasped in surprise when she got a better look at him. His own eyes widened comically as he stared back at her, allowing Dwalin to hook his leg with his axe and send him sprawling into the dirt.
“Dwalin, I said not to break him,” Kili admonished the old weapons master jovially as he slid off his pony. “I promised his family I would return him in one piece.”
“They’ll thank me for teachin’ him not to get distracted in the middle of a fight,” Dwalin replied. “Even if it is by a pretty lass.”
Tilda dismounted Buttercup and grinned at the old dwarf as the man got to his feet with a groan. He looked over at them and then pointed at her in disbelief.
“You!” he exclaimed. “You are the girl from the market! The one I knocked over…”
“You’re the stranger who was visiting from Eriador!” she replied as she took a step towards him. “Why are you in Erebor?”
“He’s my guest,” Kili stepped in as Dwalin rolled his eyes and moved away to go back to training the other recruits. “Meet Orodel, a Ranger from the North. Orodel, this is my friend: the Lady Tilda of Dale.”
Orodel gave a quick bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, my lady,” he said.
“Likewise,” she replied. “Please, call me Tilda. Only the maids call me ‘my lady’ and even that annoys me.”
They smiled a little shyly at each other, and Kili grinned. He could definitely have some fun with this if there was something there. “Shall we move this inside?” he suggested. “Perhaps some lunch in Bluestone Hall?”
“An excellent idea!”
Orodel immediately made to move towards Tilda to escort her when Kili grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “Maybe visit the baths first, mate?” he murmured to the man.
“Of course,” he replied, then looked at Tilda. “I will see you shortly my lady!”
Tilda did her best to maintain a straight face as she watched him go, finding his attempts at chivalry to be rather charming and certainly amusing. Then she eyed Kili.
The dwarf shrugged. “Rangers. They think rolling in a pile of leaves is a perfectly fine substitute for a bath.”
She snorted. “As if you’ve never rolled in a pile of leaves before, or come out of other dubious places.”
“Fair point.”
“And you never told me you had one visiting.”
“That’s because you were busy asking me about marriage.” Kili grinned as he escorted her into the Mountain. “Speaking of which, I think you have certainly caught at least one lad’s eye.”
“Mhmm.” Tilda did her best to appear nonchalant. “Lunch then?”
~*~
There was something about the idea of her best dwarf friend, and the handsome young Ranger hitting each other with sticks that made Tilda stroll out to the training ground beside the Mountain to watch them. While she had long since overcome her crush on Kili, this stranger from beyond the Misty Mountains intrigued her and made those familiar butterflies start fluttering all over again.
Having spotted her, Orodel said something to Kili she could not hear, and walked away from him; going over and picking up a small bench that he set down in the shade of a tree.
“For my lady’s comfort,” he said, before he turned to rejoin Kili.
She tried to keep the blush of pink on her cheeks from getting any darker. “I thank you, kind sir,” she replied and went and sat down on the bench, pulling out a small hoop of needlework that she had no hope of working on as long as dwarf and man insisted on sparring without shirts on, as every so often her eyes would drift up to watch them.
“You need to work on your lower block,” Kili was saying and tapped the ends of their staffs together. “You’re leaving your legs unguarded, and orcs will go for any weak spot they can get to.”
Tilda tried not to stare as some drops of sweat ran down Orodel’s sun-kissed brown back, and looked back down at her hoop. She had gotten to know the young man a little more over the last couple of days, and while she was still not ready to up and marry him right away, if he ever asked to court her she would not necessarily object. In the meantime - as he raised his staff to block Kili’s next attack, causing the muscles in his arms to flex a little - she was content to enjoy the sight of him.
And oh, he had nice arms.
It was just after Orodel had successfully defended himself that they heard a loud caw, and a raven flew down to land on Kili’s shoulder. Tilda put her needlework down in case it was bad news, but Kili smiled as he read the small roll of paper
“It’s alright!” he assured them. “Just a letter from Fili. He says they’re about two days out from Erebor, and they’re returning with a small contingent of lords from the Iron Hills.” He glanced through the message again. “Thorin will be hosting these guests in the main dining hall, however as Sigrid is quite exhausted from the journey, she and Fili request that they have a more informal meal with just us in Bluestone Hall.”
“How lovely!” Tilda exclaimed. “I was hoping to catch Sig here, before I went back home.”
Kili rolled the paper back up again looking quite pleased. Orodel leaned on his staff and held out a piece of dried meat to the raven tentatively, smiling as the bird took it, swallowed it, and then flew off in the direction of Ravenhill.
“You will be pleased to have your brother back,” he said.
“I would,” the Dwarf replied. “Though I do wish he’d sent the raven sooner. It’s not giving me a lot of time to prepare this meal he wants. And…” he tapped the Ranger’s staff with his own. “It means I only have two days to whip you into shape with the staff and bow, before I surrender you to Fili’s tender sword skills.”
Orodel groaned as he resumed his stance. “I should not be needing this at all. I told my family I want to learn how to fix people, not break them.”
“Noble of you,” Kili said. “But you won’t be around to help people if you don’t first learn how to properly defend yourself - especially where you lot live.” He glanced over to the tree where Tilda was pretending to do her embroidery. “Also,” he whispered. “Tilda’s watching, and it would be rude of you to not give her a show.”
The man blushed. “I know not what you mean,” he said. “Tilda is a Lady of noble birth, and would never indulge in such boorish fantasies.”
“She is indeed a fine young lady,” Kili said. “But that does not mean she does not have eyes to see what is right in front of her.” He started to circle the Ranger. “Unless you’re not interested…?”
Orodel moved to match Kili, now fully aware of Tilda’s gaze on him for all that her head was down, but there was a sudden confidence in him now that had not been there before. “I never said I was not interested.” He blocked the Dwarf’s sudden strike to his legs. “But she is a lady, and I am just a Ranger.”
“And since when has courting above your station ever stopped your House? Kili lunged again, aiming for his head.
The Man just about blocked him, but still got a light tap to the cheek. “Watch the face!”
The Dwarf smiled and put him through his paces again. “You’ll thank me later. Trust me.”
“Are you sure you are not punishing me for expressing an interest in her?” Orodel attacked this time and Kili blocked him easily. “And how do you even know what my House is famous for?”
“I read.” He clacked the ends of their staffs together when the man snorted. “I even sew and do embroidery. Ask Tilda; she taught me.”
“Perhaps I shall.”
“Great!” With a quick twirl of his staff, Kili swept his legs from under him and left him flat on his back once more. “I shall leave you to it while I go and plan this dinner Fili’s wanting.”
Orodel groaned as he heard the Kili move away, followed by the swishing of skirts. He rubbed his forearm over his face and when he opened his eyes again he momentarily thought he was looking at one of the Valar come down to Middle-earth as Tilda’s face hovered above him, the sun forming a perfect halo around her head.
“May I ask next time that you stab him with one of your embroidery needles?” he asked.
Tilda giggled. “It would just break on his thick skin.” She held out a hand to him. “Come on. Let’s get you up.”
“I would not want to see you dirtied, my lady,” he said.
She snorted. “You’ve never smelled me when I used to live on the Lake. Now take my hand, or you can lie there and get cold.”
Her face brooked no further argument, so he clasped her forearm and let her help him to his feet. For a moment they stood facing each other, and Orodel was very aware of how close they were and that he had no shirt on, but he found it hard to look away. Tilda reached up with her other hand and gently touched the mark on his cheek, and he winced slightly though did not pull away, quite liking the feel of her fingertips on his skin.
Orodel cleared his throat. “I should treat that.”
“I’ve heard some girls like a lad who’s a bit bruised,” Tilda replied.
“Do you?”
“My Lady Tilda.” A familiar voice spoke and they released each other, turning to look at the newcomer. Tilda recognised her maid Alva. “Prince Kili wishes me to inform you that there is a bath ready for Master Orodel; and he requests your advice on any dishes your sister might prefer on her arrival.”
Tilda nodded. “Thank you, Alva. I shall go and find him.”
The maid bowed and took her leave with the expectation that Tilda would follow her. Tilda took a step after her, then turned back and gave Orodel the lightest kiss on his cheek over his bruise before continuing behind Alva. The young Ranger bent to pick up his staff, glad that she could not see the expression on his face - a mix of happy and bashful; and the slightest hint of annoyance that he would have to thank Kili later after all.
==============
Chapter Text
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was the smell that drew Tilda early that morning to the smaller kitchens the royal family used for more private meals when they weren’t called to stand on ceremony for the rest of the kingdom.
Two days had passed since that afternoon in the training grounds when the raven had shown up with the message, and Fili and Sigrid were due back this very evening. She was looking forward to seeing her sister again; it had been months since they had last spoken, what with Sigrid away being a princess and her having to help her father oversee the running of Dale.
Sighing, she entered the kitchen to find Kili there by himself, stirring a pot of chicken broth over a fire. Some half-chopped vegetables lay scattered on tables, and a package of some kind of meat sat in a corner waiting to be prepared. Flour coated another table - and the floor - at the back of the room, upon which looked to be some rolled out dough for a tart.
“What…happened?” she asked, looking around.
“Good morning to you as well,” Kili replied. “And nothing’s happened. Just thought I would get a head start on tonight’s dinner.”
Tilda lifted some salad leaves out of a bowl of water and put them on a cloth to dry. “Why did you not ask Bombur?”
“He has his hands full in the main kitchens preparing the banquet for Thorin and the visiting lords from the Iron Hills. I didn’t want to trouble him further.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but how many of these dinners have you made by yourself?”
“Some.” Kili tasted the broth, grimaced, and added more salt. “A few.” Tilda gave him a look and he sighed. “Fine. A couple. But I’ve been getting lessons where I can.”
“Hmm.” She tossed him a tin of pepper. “Try that.”
Kili made a playful face at her, but did as she said, adding some to his broth. As he stirred he noticed her looking around as if she was searching for someone, and he tried not to smirk when he spoke.
“I gave him the day off.” He ignored Tilda’s sideways glance at him. “Orodel, I mean. I thought he could use the rest.”
Tilda finished chopping the rest of a carrot. “That is very kind of you, considering it was you who beat him near bloodied yesterday.”
“That is an exaggeration; it was only a little blood. And Oin didn’t even have to stitch the leg.”
“You still do not have to be so harsh on him.”
“He comes from a harsh world, Tilda. If he’s not prepared for it, it will end him.”
She sighed. “It just seems like he doesn’t even want to be a Ranger.”
“It’s who his people are. And unless someone else has the power to change his fate, that’s who he will be as well.” Kili came over to help her with the chopping, leaving the broth simmering over the fire. “But don’t worry, I made sure he has a soothing balm to heal all his hurts today.”
Tilda rolled her eyes at him. “Such generosity, Your Highness.” She flicked the end of a carrot at him and laughed as it bounced off his nose.
Kili scoffed in mock outrage and hit her between the eyes with a piece of celery, which made her squeal; and she reached for a handful of walnuts to throw at him. He had just grabbed a saucepan lid to use as a shield to deflect them, when they heard running footsteps and a guard appeared at the door.
“Prince Kili!” he called. “My Prince you must come!”
Kili immediately snapped to attention. “What is it?”
“Orcs, my Prince. Scouts spotted a band of them heading East.”
Tilda dropped the walnuts back into the bowl, her face pale as she came to the sobering realisation. “East… Kili, the caravan. Fili and Sigrid…”
“… are coming from the Iron Hills.” Kili came to the same realisation. He turned to the guard. “Get Dwalin and Gloin, and two squads. And have the war-goats ready!”
The guard saluted and ran to do as he was told while Kili pulled off his apron, and took Tilda’s hands. “I need to go. I’ll be careful. I’ll bring them home safely, I promise.” She nodded. “I’m going to need you to take over preparing this dinner while I’m gone.”
Tilda blinked. “Me?! Kili I -.”
Footsteps sounded outside and Orodel entered the kitchen just as Kili released her hands and moved to the door.
“You can do it!” he told her.
Orodel looked at them. “I heard about the orcs,” he said. “I’m coming with you.” He started to follow Kili out of the door only to be pushed back into the kitchen.
“No, you’re not,” the Dwarf said. “You’re hurt; you need to heal. Besides,” he nodded to where Tilda stood. “She needs your help more. Now I must fly! I’ll see you both later!”
Kili dashed down the corridor leaving the two Humans alone in the kitchen.
~*~
As she bustled around the kitchen with no plan in mind, Tilda could feel the panic start to rise in her - for Fili and Sigrid on the road, for Kili riding out to battle; for not being able to finish preparing the meal in time and disappointing everyone.
Her breath came harder and faster, and tears stung her eyes, making it harder to see as she wielded the knife, trying to chop faster.
A hand covered her own and gently eased the knife from her grip. Tilda looked up as Orodel took her hands in his and eased her away from the table.
“Just breathe,” he said. “Breathe.”
“I can’t!” Tilda cried. “I’m worried about my family. And there’s this dinner to make, and I don’t know where to start, and curse Kili for making such a mess to begin with! And if I cannot do this everyone will go hungry, and…”
“Shhh. Come sit down.” Orodel led her to a bench. “Take a deep breath,” he said once they were sat. “And let it out slowly.”
She did as he said, her fingers clutching his hands, as she breathed in as deep as she could and tried to clear her head. One hand released his and fished in a pocket for a handkerchief that she took out and dabbed her face with.
“What lovely needlework,” Orodel remarked as he looked at a corner of the fabric. “Did you do this?”
“Kili, actually,” she said.
“Ah, yes. He mentioned you taught him how to do embroidery.”
“Yes, and he’s gotten very good at it.” Tilda took one more breath to calm herself, then looked around. “The same cannot be said for his kitchen management. How are we supposed to turn this mess into a dinner?”
The Ranger stood and took a walk around the kitchen, then looked back at Tilda. “Perhaps we should first decide what it is we are making, before we launch into preparation. Kili asked you the other day what your sister might like to eat, do you remember what you told him?”
Tilda frowned for a moment, thinking back. “Sig has always loved a good apple tart. She used to make them for us now and then when the harvest was good; before she married and started living here.”
“You have some good memories of it as well,” Orodel said. “Then that shall be our dessert course. Come…” he returned and pulled the girl to her feet. “It seems Kili attempted to make a start on it. Find some apples and slice them, and I shall attempt to salvage this pastry.”
With a clear task before her, Tilda started to move again. She found a bowl of bright red apples on a shelf under the table, and got to work coring and cutting them into slices, watching as Orodel found the tart pan and started to roll out the dough. If her eyes lingered on his arms as they worked the rolling pin back and forth, well, he was standing right in front of her, where else was she supposed to look.
Once the pastry was ready, together they filled it with the apple slices, and Tilda topped it all with a generous sprinkle of sugar before setting it aside for baking later. For a moment their eyes met, and Tilda thought she might forget how to breathe again, so earnestly did the Ranger’s gaze hold her.
The sharp hiss of the broth boiling over and splashing onto the fire broke the spell, and Orodel hurried over to lift it off the stove.
“Is there anything we can add to this to perhaps turn it into a first course?”
“I’ll see what I can find in the larder.” Tilda hurried into the small, dark alcove adjacent to the kitchen and busied herself in there for a moment, looking for ingredients and letting the cool air within calm the flush she had felt creeping up her face. She took a few more breaths to calm her nerves, then picked up a bowl of mushrooms before re-entering the kitchen. “I found these.”
Orodel looked up from where he was seasoning the broth. “Ah, there you are. For a moment I thought I would have to come and rescue you from the dark recesses of the scullery.” He grinned. “Those should do nicely though. Put them in.”
She brought the bowl over to the stove and started adding the mushrooms to the broth. “I can assure you I am more than a match for mushrooms hiding in dark recesses. I only had to combat a few spiders, and they were fairly small.”
“Kili told me about the adventure he had with the giant spiders in Mirkwood,” he said. “It gave me plenty of sleepless nights as we journeyed through that forest, but thankfully we encountered none this time. I dread the return journey though.” He tasted the broth. “Oh yes, this will do nicely now. We can leave this and let the fire go out. It should keep warm until it is time to be served.”
Tilda nodded in no small amount of relief - if nothing else they at least had some semblance of a respectable dinner in sight - but despite that, she felt troubled. She looked over at where the young Ranger was examining the meat that had been set out before going into the larder himself to look for more ingredients; and she thought back on the words he had just spoken. It was a harmless enough comment, but it had suddenly made her realise what pursuing a courtship with him would mean.
There was a clang that broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked over to see Orodel wince as he dropped the slab of meat on a tray. Immediately she went over to him, an arm reflexively going around his back to support him as she placed a hand on his chest, trying to pretend she did not feel his heart beat just a little bit faster, because it just added to her confusion.
“You should rest,” she said. “Maybe you do not need stitches on your leg, but Kili still took it out of you yesterday, and I know how he fights. I can manage this if you can guide me.”
Orodel met her eyes and knew an argument would be pointless, so he only nodded in agreement as her hand burned at his chest and distracted him from being able to form any coherent words. This close, he again noted how lovely she was, especially when she was determined, and it made him wonder what a future with her would look like.
She helped him to sit on a nearby stool, and it was all he could do to remain there as he watched and guided her on the preparation of the meat. Her arms were bare to the elbows as she had rolled up her sleeves, and he followed her hands as she scored the flesh with a knife and then rubbed in a mix of herbs and oil. His eyes lingered on her fingers as she delicately jabbed little clove stalks in, like she would with her needle. For a moment he entertained thoughts of what it would feel like to hold her hands in his and entwine their fingers as they walked or—
“What should I do now?” Her question snapped him out of his daydream, and he realised he had been staring. “Orodel?”
“Ah, yes. Perhaps lay the vegetables down first and place the meat on top of them. That way they can cook together in the oven and develop a better flavour.”
Tilda grunted and carried out his suggestion, finally shoving the meat into the oven and kicking the door closed with her foot. “I swear after this I’m going to take some cooking lessons with Bombur,” she said as she washed her hands. “I cannot believe he does this for fun.”
Orodel got to his feet to pass her a cloth to dry her hands on, but as she took it from him, he caught her hands up in his and she looked up at him curiously. His mind was a whirlwind of a multitude of things he wanted to tell her, but none of them seemed to want to leave his mouth in this moment.
“My lady,” he said. “Forgive me if this is too bold, but…”
Her lips pressed to his in a gentle kiss before she stepped back with a sad smile. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said, and removed her hand from his. “But I cannot encourage you; for however my heart may feel about you, you have said yourself that one day you will return to your people over the Misty Mountains. That is a long way from here.”
“You could come…”
“No. I cannot follow you.” Tilda knew that much with certainty. “My place is here with my people, and my City, and my family.”
“And with Kili?”
Tilda laughed then. “Kili is family, but he’s about as tameable as the wind,” she said. “And his heart belongs elsewhere. It is not Kili that hinders my feelings, I promise you.” She touched his arm then. “I like you, Orodel, and were you not destined to leave us perhaps there could have been something more, but I will not spoil this friendship we have with heartbreak. Forgive me. I will see you at dinner in Bluestone Hall.”
Moving past him, she headed to the door, but it was only when she had left the kitchen behind her that she took out her handkerchief and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
~*~
Kili knew something had changed as he sat at the table in Bluestone Hall beside Tilda and across from his brother. Bowls of mushroom-and-chicken broth steamed on the table in front of each of them, and they ate in relative silence. There was a strange air he sensed between Tilda and Orodel - conversation between the two was at a minimum, but he caught several stolen glances that made him certain that something had happened between them while he had been away.
Adding to that, his own brother and Sigrid were also unusually silent, and if it was not the light tricking his eyes, he could have sworn Sigrid was looking a little paler than normal. There was clearly a lot not being said, and with no one volunteering any information, he finally cracked halfway through the meat course.
“I love what you’ve done with this,” he said as he cut up pieces of his portion of lamb and just about inhaled them. “Some lovely flavour with the herbs, and roasting the vegetables in the meat juices was such a good idea.”
Sigrid gave a small whimper, but quickly masked it and took a sip of water. Tilda shifted in her chair, looking from her sister to Fili, as she ate her own food.
“It was Orodel’s idea,” she said at last.
The Ranger glanced up at the mention of his name and tried to smile. “Perhaps, but it was Tilda’s idea to add the cloves into the meat itself.”
The girl would have smiled at the compliment at the very least, but her attention was currently on her older sister, who was currently cutting up her meat into the smallest bites before eating them. Both Tilda and Kili knew Sigrid had a much bigger appetite than she was presently displaying, especially when she did not have to stand on ceremony - it was why the Dwarves liked her - so this behaviour was rather unusual.
“Are you feeling alright, Sig?” Tilda asked her at last. “Did that orc attack shake you up a lot?”
“Orc attack?” Sigrid asked, frowning in confusion. “What orc attack?”
Kili gave a slight twitch that Fili instantly picked up on and narrowed his eyes at him. “It was a small band headed East,” he said quickly. “We must have finished them off before they reached you.”
“You took Masters Dwalin and Gloin with you, and two squads,” Orodel pointed out.
“Yes, well, one can never be too certain,” Kili replied smoothly. “Especially around these parts; there could have been another troop lying in ambush. Better to be over-prepared than outnumbered.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, going back to Tilda’s original question: are you feeling alright, Sigrid?”
Fili spoke up as Sigrid finished a mouthful of food. “We’ve been away in the Iron Hills a long time; she’s just been feeling unwell from all the traveling.”
Sigrid took a sip of water to wash down her food, then calmly set the goblet on the table and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “May we please have dessert now?”
===============
Chapter Text
CHAPTER EIGHT
It felt nice to be back in her own room in Dale, Tilda thought as she watered the small Mountain Star plant that sat at her window. It had grown more in the time she had been away in Erebor, and she knew she would have to soon replant it into a bigger pot.
As it had been some years ago for her sister’s wedding, Dale was once again all abuzz - this time after the latest announcement of the royal baby of Princess Sigrid and Prince Fili. She did not mind it - in fact it was quite a welcome distraction, as it meant that people had stopped asking her about any potential suitors, and instead inquired after the health of the soon-to-be mother. There were some questions on what this new baby might turn out to be - how much Human, and how much Dwarrow, for starters - but these were soon deemed rude and frowned upon to ask. What mattered in the end was that the child be born healthy.
Her window looked North, and glancing out she could see the Mountain standing tall not too far away. It had now been a couple of weeks since she had returned to Dale since Fili and Sigrid’s homecoming, but she had left the breaking of the news to her father to Sigrid. The two of them had talked into the night before Bard himself escorted her back to Erebor, with a promise to send a raven to Bain in Rohan as soon as one could be found that was willing to make the flight.
For her part, as nice as it was to be home, there was a small piece of her that wanted to return to Erebor. She had not told anyone about the kiss she and Orodel had shared in the kitchens that afternoon, though she assumed the Ranger would have mentioned it by now - at least to Kili. She wondered idly if that was why the Dwarf had not been by to see her since she had returned to Dale.
She frowned as the image of the young Ranger filled her mind, as they had been doing almost constantly since she had left Erebor. Often she caught herself thinking of him; of how he held her hands, and smiled at her, the touch of his lips on hers; and most of all how he looked at her like he wanted to spill his entire soul to her. More than once she wished she could have accepted his affection that day in the kitchens, but she knew that the further along they went, the harder it would be to say goodbye to him when the day came that he had to return.
There was a soft tap at her doorframe. “My lady, you have a visitor,” Alva said, and retreated before Tilda could ask her who it was.
Muttering something about maids being too cunning for their own good, Tilda left her room and made her way to the living room, but there was no one there when she entered. Sighing in exasperation she made her way out to the back garden where her jaw dropped in no small amount of surprise.
“Kili!”
The Dwarf grinned as he stood from where he had been lounging in the swing-seat and caught her as she swept him up in a big hug.
“You missed me, then?” he asked.
“It’s been two weeks! Where have you been?!”
Kili set her down and scrunched up his nose. “Well you see, when the Crown Prince of Erebor and his wife announce to the entire kingdom that they’re expecting their first child, as the brother of said Crown Prince, it then becomes a problem that I have to deal with, because suddenly everyone wants to know about Dwarf-Human babies, as if they were a common occurence.” He sat back down on the swing seat, making room for Tilda to sit beside him. “But do they go to Oin with these questions? Oh no no, because he would just shut the door in their faces. So instead they come to me, because as his brother, I surely must know everything about it.”
Tilda sat herself down in the offered space and gently rubbed his shoulders in sympathy. “You poor thing,” she said. “Is that why you’re here then, to hide from your loyal and nosy subjects?”
“More or less.”
“Then I regret to inform you: they’re no less curious about it over here. They’ve just been told to speak of it less until there are official announcements from either of our families.”
Kili groaned and laid his head on her shoulder. “I’m going to hide here until this all calms down. I’ll tell Thorin I’m here on diplomatic relations.”
She wrapped an arm around him. “Is that the only reason you’re here?” When he did not answer, she raised a brow at him. “Hmm. What’s the other reason?”
“I… thought we might get a head-start on a gift for the baby?”
“It is a sound reason. I had been wondering what could be a suitable present myself. Did you have anything in mind?” she asked.
“Well, I had wondered if we could work on something together? I would hope between the two of us and our combined needlework skills we could create something of use - and not just a toy, because they will already be getting plenty of those.” He sat up. “How would you feel about embroidering a blanket?”
Tilda rubbed her chin. “A whole blanket, even a small one, would take a lot of time. Perhaps we could do a border?”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“We’d need to get the fabric first,” she said. “And I think a nice pale yellow would be nice, like the first rays of the morning sun as it touches the flowers - not too bright or harsh.”
“How very poetic.” Kili grinned. “Leave the fabric to me.”
“What about the design?
“I saw a really nice mosaic the other day,” he said. “It was a lizard, but I was thinking we could do a kingfisher motif - to symbolise the river that connects both our kingdoms.”
Tilda smiled. “That sounds lovely. I’ll sketch up some designs later and we can decide which one to go with from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kili said.
~*~
A couple of days after Kili’s visit, the two were sat at the dining table poring over Tilda’s various sketch designs, when there came a knock at the door. They ignored it, content to let one of the household staff answer it - it was probably someone looking for her father, Tilda assumed - until Bard himself came into the room and cleared his throat.
“There’s a… visitor to see you, Tilda,” he said when they looked at him. There was a strange expression on his face as he glanced at his youngest daughter.
“For me?” Tilda was puzzled as she wiped her chalk-stained hands on her skirts and went to see who it was.
Bard glanced at Kili, whose face betrayed nothing, before retreating to the living room and his pipe and armchair.
Tilda meanwhile stopped short in the parlour, her eyes widening in surprise - and no small bit of bemusement - when she noted the visitor standing there with a folded length of pale yellow wool fleece in his arms.
“Orodel,” she said. “How unexpected. What brings you to my house?”
“Good day, my lady,” he replied, trying not to stare. Even slightly dishevelled, with smudges on her face and strands of unruly brown hair escaping their pins, he thought she still looked quite lovely. “I was asked to deliver this.”
He held out his armload of fabric. Tilda reached to take it from him, trying in vain to ignore the little thrill that ran up her arms as their fingers brushed against each other’s.
“It was kind of you to go through the trouble of bringing it,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could. “Thank you.”
“No trouble at all, my lady,” he answered. “It was my pleasure.”
A moment passed during which the young Ranger wondered if he should take his leave, and Tilda struggled to find the right words to dismiss him.
“Ah, Orodel, there you are,” Kili’s voice cut through the tension as he came over, ignoring the glare she threw his way. “I was wondering what happened to you.”
“Yes, well,” Orodel replied. “The vendor bid me tell you: next time you request a special wool like this, you need to give her more than a day to prepare it; and also, you being a Prince does not lessen the time it takes to have it ready.”
“I will take note of that,” Kili said.
“Wait… You told him to come here?!” Tilda jabbed a finger at him.
“Well someone had to bring it to us. We were busy.” The Dwarf shrugged. “And since Orodel’s in the City anyway, I thought he’d be best learning where everyone is around here.”
“Why is he in the City? I thought he was busy training with you Dwarves?”
Orodel opened his mouth to answer, but Kili spoke before he could get a word out.
“He mentioned he wanted to learn more about Human healing and midwifery. So where better for him to learn than in a city of Men? Dale has some of the best midwives in Middle-earth, does it not?”
“I presume we do,” Tilda replied. “But who arranged for this, and where will he even be staying?”
“I did.” Bard strode back into the parlour, having finished his pipe in the time they were arguing. “Master Oin sent down the lad’s request and I approved it.” He regarded Orodel who at the moment looked like a cornered deer. “I assume you have your baggage with you?”
The Ranger blinked at suddenly being spoken to. “Oh, yes, my lord. I have everything I need.” He stole a quick glance at Tilda. “I hope I will not be imposing.”
“Not at all, lad,” Bard replied. “This exchange of knowledge between the Folk of Dale and the Dunedain will be of benefit to both our peoples. I hope you learn all that you can.”
Orodel bowed slightly. “Thank you, Lord Bard.”
The older man nodded and escorted him to the door. “Come, let us get you settled. I have arranged for you to lodge with Widow Marit. She lives not far from the Healing Houses and has a separate upstairs annex that sits vacant. You will be looked after there.”
Bard shut the door behind them, leaving Tilda and Kili (relatively) alone in the house once more. The girl spun on her heel and returned to the table, setting the fabric down carefully before pretending to examine her sketches once more. Kili shook his head and followed her, stopping only to ask a kitchenhand to bring in some tea.
Tilda sat down and glared at him. “You could have told me he would be coming here.”
He shrugged. “Would it have made a difference? Why? Do you want to run away to Erebor while he’s here?”
“I’m not running away from anything,” she snapped. “I just don’t like being surprised.”
“You were quite happily surprised to discover he was your mystery lad from the Market a month ago,” Kili countered. “So what has changed? Why did you run back here?”
“Back here? This is my home, Kili.”
The Dwarf sat as well. “What happened with you and Orodel, Tilda?” he asked. “Did he do something dishonour—”.
“I kissed him, alright?!” Tilda slumped back in her chair, feeling suddenly deflated. “When you left us in the kitchen that day. He was looking at me like he wanted to, so I got there first. I thought he would have told you about it.”
“He never said a word.” Kili smiled a bit. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing someone you like, if he also wanted it.”
“I know that. The kiss was fine, but then I told him I could not be with him.”
They paused as a maid brought in a tray with a steaming teapot, a pair of cups, pots of sugar and milk, and a plate of iced biscuits. She left these at one end of the dining table, then took her leave. Kili got up and poured them each a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar to Tilda’s before sliding it over to her. She picked it up and sipped on it while Kili sat back down with his.
“Why?” he asked. “That doesn’t make sense. You like him; he definitely likes you.”
“I do like him. He would be a fine match, too, but he lives so far away, Kili,” she said. “And I do not want to be married and taken away to live with strangers in a strange land, that I’ve never even been to before. My place is here, in Dale, with my family.” She took another sip of her tea. “I told him much the same before I left; I do not want heartbreak.”
Kili drained his cup and set it back on the tray. “Seems to me like your heart has already broken a bit.”
Tilda set her cup down near his. “Well I was trying to keep my distance from him so he could forget about me, and I could forget about him, and we could both move on, but then someone decided to throw him right back into my lap again.”
“Did it work?”
“What?” She frowned at him.
“Forgetting about him,” Kili said. “You were gone for two weeks. Are you telling me, in that time he never crossed your mind once?”
“Oh, what does it matter if I think of him or not. He will leave and there is nothing I can do about it.”
“You could give him a reason to stay.” Kili poured them both another cup of tea and leaned back.
She spooned sugar into hers and added a splash of milk. “I do not want to be the one who keeps him from his family.”
“His family consists of three older brothers, all of them fully trained Rangers who are destined to see war sooner rather than later.” Kili stirred his tea. “You’ve seen Orodel in training; he wouldn’t last a day in a battle, but that’s what awaits him back in Eriador.”
Tilda frowned down at her tea. She still remembered the battle she was in less than a decade ago, when Kili had almost been killed. She remembered the worry she felt; and the grief on Sigrid’s face at the thought she might lose Fili.
She tried to imagine receiving news of Orodel’s demise - cut to pieces by orcs or mauled by some foul creature - and it filled her with the same dread she had felt all those years ago.
“I do not want to save him out of some sense of pity for his fate,” she said. “And it is not something he would appreciate either.”
Kili reached over and squeezed her hand. “Then don’t do it out of pity. Do it out of love.”
Tilda gave a hollow laugh. “Would he love me after I’ve broken his heart?” She sipped her tea again. “And you of all people know it’s one thing to love, and another to be in love.”
The Dwarf grinned and sat back, downing his second cup of tea so fast that Tilda wondered if he tasted anything at all. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out,” he said. “Which means you’ll be coming to next week’s ball.”
She looked at him sharply. “Wait, what ball? What have you been scheming?”
“Come to Erebor and find out.”
~*~
The party was in one of the smaller halls Erebor used for celebratory events - it was nowhere near as big as the hall that hosted Sigrid’s wedding, but it couldn’t exactly be called little either - and right now it was full of Dwarves and Humans feasting, drinking and dancing. Tilda sat on one of the raised daises usually reserved for the royal families and the Company and nursed a tankard of weak cider as she watched the festivities, her gaze straying to the door every now and then to see if anyone new was entering.
A presence joined her on the bench, off to her side.
“Not dancing tonight?”
“Not with Kili tonight?” Tilda looked over at Tauriel.
The Elf smirked. “Not yet. He’s busy working the room.”
Tilda sighed. “Of course he is. I don’t even know what this party is about, or how I let him talk me into coming here?”
Tauriel laughed. “You’ve known him for almost half your life and still get surprised at how convincing he can be when he wants to. How do you think Thorin came to host this merry gathering?”
Almost as if summoned, Kili appeared at Tauriel’s other side, kissing her cheek as he sat down and poured himself a goblet of wine. “I felt my ears start to burn so I assumed someone was talking about me.” He drained the contents, then refilled the cup and sipped from it slowly. “Answering so many questions is thirsty work.”
“We were talking about how you managed to get King Thorin to agree to this ball,” Tilda said.
“Me?” Kili pretended to look affronted. “I played no part in this. I was merely sent to give out the invitations like the good ambassador that I am.”
“So what is this all for then, my love?” Tauriel asked.
“It’s just a small party to celebrate the fact that Sigrid has passed one of the more uncertain periods, and is now more stable in her pregnancy - just to show the subjects that she is healthy and well.”
Tilda snorted. “Somehow I doubt Sig will want to be shown off to half the kingdoms like some brood mare.”
The Dwarf grinned. “Then you’ll be surprised to know this whole party was her idea. Squash all the rumours in one go, she said.”
“If this was her idea, then where is she? Or Fili for that matter?” Tilda asked.
Kili took a big gulp of his wine. “They’ll be along shortly. Just a routine check-up with Oin first.” He set the goblet back down with a clang, then stood and held out his hand to Tauriel. “Now, would my Lady Elf like to dance?”
Tauriel looked at Tilda, who rolled her eyes. “Go,” she said. “I’m not going to wither away like a delicate flower.”
She watched as Kili led the red-headed Elf around the dancefloor in a spirited folk dance, and smiled in spite of herself at the sight of her best friend looking so happy. And he deserved some joy, she thought. He had come a long way in working through the waking nightmares of the battle at Ravenhill, and the last one had been over a year ago. These days when he was not out hunting or training young soldiers, he was wholly engrossed in his needlework, and Tilda had to admit he was almost at her level of expertise.
There was a flash of gold, and Tilda turned her attention from the entrance to the dancefloor again, in time to see Fili leading her sister in a gentle reel, and despite her ever-expanding belly, Sigrid was keeping up with him easily. She watched as they joined with Kili and Tauriel in a twisting and rotating circle, the others taking care not to spin Sigrid around too much. A little wistfully, she turned away and took out her hoop, needle and thread. The blanket was not going to complete itself, and she may as well get a little more of it done while she was sitting here.
She was so engrossed in her work that she jumped when Sigrid sat down across from her and set a tankard down on the table.
“If Fili asks me to dance again I’m going to kick him,” she said.
“I don’t know, you looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Tilda replied. “After all, I’m told this party was your idea.”
“Mhm. And hopefully now they’ve seen me, the usual gossips will turn their wagging tongues to other matters.” She took a long drink from her mug.
Tilda eyed her. “That had better not be…”
“Relax, it’s apple juice.”
She sipped her own cider. “And I’ll give them a month before they’re back wondering whether the baby will be born with a fully-grown beard.”
Sigrid gave an unladylike snort and drained her tankard, then tried to look over the table to see what exactly her sister was doing. “Oh for goodness sake, Tilda. Are you actually doing needlework at a party?” she asked.
Tilda sighed, but hurriedly stuffed her things back into her bag, so Sigrid could not see exactly what it was she was working on. “I figured I would use the time to do something productive,” she replied. “It’s not like I have a queue of young lads lining up to dance with me or anything.”
“Good. Then you can dance with Fili,” Sigrid said as her husband came over and set a plate of food down in front of her. “My dearest love,” she said to him. “My sister would like a turn on the dancefloor.”
Fili’s grin was far too eerily similar to the ones Kili gave when he was up to something. “As my lovely wife commands,” he replied, pulling Tilda up from her seat and down from the dais.
Tilda rolled her eyes, but knew it was useless to protest. Fili and Kili always came off as playful and easy-going, but she knew first-hand the strength they possessed and the stubbornness that was inherent of Dwarves as a whole. So she let Fili lead and twirl her around the floor in an energetic romp that later she would admit to being great fun - it was, after all, a Dwarven folk song she knew and loved from her childhood.
As the tune wound down, some of her meticulously braided and pinned hair now hung in fine strands to frame her face that was now flushed from all the movement. Fili dropped into a deep bow, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he glanced behind her.
“You’re as fine a dancer as ever,” he said. “Alas, I must now tend to my dear wife, and make sure she’s escorted safely to bed, now that her health is no longer in question by some of the members of the court.”
He kissed her hand and twirled her once more before releasing her with a nudge. Tilda yelped and braced herself to hit the ground, but instead collided with another body that steadied her. She looked up into a pair of familiar grey eyes framed by dark hair, and for a moment her breath caught in her throat and she coughed.
Orodel thrust a cup into her hand. “Drink that,” he said.
Not in a position to argue, Tilda did as he said, finding a cool cordial in the cup that tasted like blackberries. She drained the cup and set it on a nearby table, and it was only then she realised he still held her other hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the drink, and making sure I did not fall on my face.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied. A touch of pink coloured his cheeks then. “The music has slowed somewhat, would you still care to dance?”
Tilda took his other hand and placed it on her waist, before resting her hand on his shoulder. “As long as you don’t twirl me too much.”
To her surprise and delight, the Ranger proved to be a competent dancer, and she wondered where he could have learned while living in the wilds.
“My mother taught me,” he said, as if reading her mind. “In the woods, she would sing and guide us when my brothers and I were young. I was the only one who stuck with it after my brothers went out into the world.”
“You must miss them,” she replied. “Your parents and brothers…”
“To be honest, now that we are grown I barely see any of them. They are all wanderers like the rest of my people - Rangers roaming the wilds.”
“Are you?”
He turned her gently so her back rested against his chest, and she could feel his breath on her shoulder when he spoke. “I would prefer not to be; it is not where I see my future.” He met her eyes as he turned her back around. “It is why I’ve been searching for somewhere to put down roots.”
“And is Dale that place for you?” she asked.
“It could be.” His eyes still held hers in their gaze. “I still think about that kiss often…”
Tilda could feel the flush creeping up her neck, and the way her breathing grew faster. She knew she needed some fresh air, so when they reached a less crowded area of the dancefloor, she pulled him off it and led him to one of the small stone balconies that overlooked the valley below. In the distance they could see the lights of Dale, some of which twinkled as reflections in the river. She took in a deep breath of the cool night air, though she was still very aware of the young Ranger’s presence at her side, and his arm around her shoulders.
“It is wonderful here,” he said.
She sighed. “I’m sorry if I hurt you by running off back to Dale after that day in the kitchens.”
He angled his body to face her. “I know I must return to Eriador at some point in the future,” he said. “And I know you do not want to come with me.”
She turned to look at him. “It would hurt me too much to have to say goodbye to you.”
“But what if….” He took her hands in his. “What if it was not a goodbye?
“What do you mean?”
“When you left Erebor, I missed you,” he said. “I found you living in my thoughts daily. And all it told me was how much more I would miss you if I left here for good.”
She did not meet his eyes. “But you would still have to go.”
“To say my goodbyes to my family, and tell them that I am only there to pack the rest of my belongings, for I will be making my home in the East - in the City of Dale.” He gently nudged her chin up. “The most beautiful in all of Middle-earth - if she would have me.”
Tilda met his gaze, just as Orodel brushed some loose strands of her hair away from her face. That light touch of his fingers on her skin stoked a heat in her belly that she had never felt before and it burned like a fire she did not know how to control. Her hands moved of their own accord to grip his dark locks, and she pulled him into a kiss that was nowhere near as gentle as the first one she had given him in the kitchens all those weeks ago. Orodel gave a little gasp of surprise as their lips met, before she felt him melt against her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
They parted after a few minutes, and Orodel blinked a few times, as if still uncertain that moment had just happened. Tilda turned back to face the twinkling city beyond, trying to catch her breath. For a while neither spoke a word, each trying to find the right words to say.
“I still think of that kiss as well,” Tilda said at last. “So I wanted to be certain of what I felt.”
Orodel could not tear his eyes away from her - she was lovely, and bold, and knew exactly what she wanted in her life - and he knew there was no life for him without her in it.
“And how did it feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful.” She took a breath. “But you should not be doing this just for me.”
“And I promise you, I am not,” he replied. “I feel accepted here, more than I ever did in Eridaor. I do not want to die alone in some unknown wood or cave, Tilda. I want to do more than just hunt and track and fight. My people were once said to be great healers, so that is what I want to do - be a healer; bring life back to this world.” He reached and stroked his thumb over her cheek. “And your Dwarf friends, and the midwives I am learning under, have been the only ones to not laugh at me for it.”
She looked at him again then. “And you would be happy to live here, so far away from your birth home?”
“I would.” His hand rested behind her neck. “Though I would be much happier if you would consent to living here with me.”
“I would.”
Tilda leaned towards him like a moth drawn to a flame, and Orodel met her halfway to capture her lips again in another kiss. This one felt different, she noted - still like a fire, but one that burned deeper and hotter. Her hands left his hair to run down his back, her fingers moving as if searching; and he pulled her closer, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her as his own fingers brushed the ribbon that held her gown together.
A polite cough came from somewhere beyond them, and they moved apart quickly to see Kili standing by the door, looking just that little bit amused. Orodel quickly straightened his tunic and shirt, as Tilda smoothed her skirts hoping she did not look too flushed - though the sight of the Dwarf’s grin told her otherwise.
“The party’s winding down,” he said. “It’s quite late, and I thought I would walk you back to your rooms, Tilda.” He gave her a very unsubtle pointed look.
She understood. “That’s very kind of you, Kili. What about…?”
“Orodel knows the way back to his quarters.”
The Ranger took the hint as well, turning to Tilda and bowing. “I do indeed. Goodnight, my lady, and my thanks for this evening.”
“Goodnight.” Tilda smiled at him as Kili led her away. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
=================
Chapter 10
Notes:
This chapter contains brief, non-graphic, implied, consensual sex between an 18-year-old female and 21-year-old male
Chapter Text
CHAPTER NINE
His lips were warm on hers, but her kisses were fierce, and they stopped briefly only so she could tug his tunic over his head. Her hands twisted in his shirt as she held him, and it was all she could do not to moan into his mouth, especially when she felt his hand tug at the ribbon on the back of her dress and undo it. As her gown started to loosen, her fingers slid under his shirt to gently stroke his skin.
“Tilda!” he cried out.
“Tilda!”
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly, wincing when her head swam as it tried to catch up with the rest of her body. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she looked around, trying to remember where she was, and see who had called her name.
Kili sat at the other end of the sofa from her, the pale yellow baby blanket spread between them. She recalled they had been working on it through the night to make up for the time they had lost while celebrating her 18th birthday a few days ago.
“Did you fall asleep here as well?” she asked.
“Seems so,” he replied. “Though clearly you were having the more interesting dream. Some of those sounds made me blush.”
She scrunched up her nose as parts of the dream came back to her, feeling a flush creep into her cheeks.
“As if you haven’t made far more obscene sounds when Tauriel gets her hands on you,” she countered weakly, knowing Kili was far less easily embarrassed about these things than she.
“Indeed I do,” he agreed. “It still does not change the fact that you were about to jump someone in your sleep.” He leaned a bit closer. “Was it our dear Ranger?”
Tilda brushed some strands of hair away from her face. “I just thought he would have returned by now.”
“So you can jump him in real life and not just in your dreams?” Kili grinned wickedly.
She threw a small cushion at his head. “It’s not like I had the chance to before he left, given you were always nearby for some annoying reason or other.”
In the couple of months after the party, she and Orodel had spent what free moments they had talking about his eventual departure, in between periods of getting to know each other - through dialogue and other physical means, but the latter were usually stolen moments when they thought they were alone; and were often brief - amounting to nothing more than heated kisses and hands exploring over clothing - and left her wanting so much more.
“Because up until a few days ago, you were not of age and needed a chaperone, otherwise your father would have had not just Orodel’s head, but mine as well, for not keeping a better eye on you,” Kili replied. “And you’ll forgive me for not wanting to cross Bard the Dragonslayer.”
Tilda rolled her eyes. “I do not recall Fili and Sig having any such chaperones.”
“That’s ‘cause your sister had already come of age by the time she and my brother got serious about it, and they also knew everyone was watching them - being Crown Prince and future princess at the time.”
She grunted in response, but she knew that he was right. Rather than press the matter, she turned her attention to the blanket, spreading it out to examine their work.
The kingfisher motifs depicted the bird in various stages of flight, and was made up of small, colourful triangles laid out in a mosaic pattern. It had taken them hours upon hours of work, but they had managed to finish the longer borders over the last few nights. If they held to this course, she surmised that they could finish over the next couple of weeks, provided there were no other distractions to waylay them.
Covering a yawn, she leaned closer to examine their stitches, while Kili rubbed his face and started to inspect their inventory of threads.
“Durin’s Beard, I need coffee,” he groaned. “We’ve also run out of that nice pale blue thread, so someone will have to go to the market later and buy us more.”
Tilda pulled her hair back into a quick braid, but knew she would have to brush it out later. “I’ll take the market,” she said. “There’s some coffee in the kitchen, but I’d be quick before Bain wakes up.”
Her brother had arrived home from Rohan in time for her birthday, as he put it, but she knew it was mostly coincidence, and that he was really home in anticipation of the birth of the baby. No one knew exactly when, but Oin and the midwives had put it as somewhere between Dwarven and Human birthing times. What Tilda did know was that Sigrid had been getting notably larger with each passing week.
She stood up from the sofa, feeling her back protest at the change in posture, then pulled Kili to his feet and nudged him towards the kitchen. It was only when she heard the bustle of the cooks and kitchenhands as he entered that she realised how late in the morning it already was.
Quickly she hurried to her room to wash and change her clothes. Not wanting to waste time getting a dress laced up, she opted for a blouse, skirt and emerald green waistcoat that was easy enough to put on by herself. After a quick brush of her hair, she tied it up with a length of pink ribbon.
Kili was nursing a cup of coffee at the dining table when Tilda came back out again and slipped into her boots. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she stopped to speak to a maid before returning to the Dwarf.
“I’ve requested some hot water be sent to your room so you can freshen up,” she told him. “If you’re up to it, keep working on the blanket with the colours we do have.” She shoved a bacon and tomato roll into his hand before accepting another from a maid. “I won’t be long; back as soon as I have the threads.”
~*~
The market was as bustling as ever, and Tilda could not help but notice the increase in wares for babies and young children - everything from clothing and toys to cradles and rocking horses. She wondered if it was coincidence that more children were being born now that the City was finally at peace, or whether it was just because her sister was expecting. Maybe it was somewhere in the middle, she conceded. Either way, it meant more trade for Dale - and Erebor, by proxy - which was always a good thing.
Weaving in and out of the crowds, she finally managed to reach her thread vendor, who recognised her and set a large tray laden with skeins of embroidery floss to the side for her perusal. Tilda’s first goal was to restock all the pale blue they had run out of, after which she picked out a few more colours that she thought would look interesting for their mosaic kingfisher. All of these she handed to the vendor, along with the appropriate amount of coin, who then wrapped them up and tied them securely before passing the package back to Tilda.
She thanked the woman and turned away as she tucked the package into her bag, looking down for a moment as she did so. Which meant she did not see the person in front of her until she walked straight into them and bounced off with a yelp. She braced herself to hit the ground, then blinked and looked up as an arm caught her around the waist while her hand instinctively gripped a shoulder.
“Sincere apologies for my clumsiness, my lady Tilda,” a familiar voice said, and a pair of grey eyes twinkled in merry amusement.
“We have got to stop meeting like this,” she replied as she regained her feet and regarded the young Ranger before her, trying to calm her racing heart and the heat she could feel building up in her belly at the sight of him. “It is good to see you again, Orodel.”
“My heart is filled with gladness at the sight of you,” he said. “Though you are correct about the choice of meeting place. It is quite busy.”
“It’s always busy; come on…” her hand slid easily into his and she relished the comfort of his grip as his fingers closed around hers. “When did you arrive?”
He let her lead him through the crowds. “Late last night. Too late to have called on you, and I needed to sleep after so long a journey.” He followed her out of the market. “I was just on my way to your house when I nearly knocked you over again.”
“So you’ve not had anything to eat?”
“Not yet. I was going to beg at your kitchens for any morsels they could spare.”
Tilda rolled her eyes and led him down a couple of side roads until they reached a small bakery. They sat at a small table outside, and she ordered a pot of tea and some scones.
“I’m feeling a bit hungry myself,” she said, when Orodel raised a brow.
She paid the server who brought their food, then set about pouring herself a cup of tea and smearing butter over half a scone, pretending not to notice as Orodel set to his food like a man half-starved - which he probably was. She waited patiently until he had all but licked the crumbs off his plate and washed it down with his tea.
“I cannot allow you to always provide for me like this,” he said.
“Oh don’t be ridiculous. You have no money at the moment,” she replied. “But if it makes you feel any better, you can pay me back once the midwives put you to work and start paying you a wage.”
“But that will not be for a while yet.”
“Well…” she reached for his hand. “There are other ways you can repay me sooner.” She met his eyes. “You know you missed my birthday last week.”
“To my greatest regret.” Orodel met her eyes and some realisation dawned. “So let me make it up to you, if you think we will not be disturbed.” He stood and pulled her up.
“Kili is staying at my house to work on the blanket for the baby,” Tilda informed him.
“Then we should not interrupt his very important task. Come….” Orodel led her from the bakery. “Allow me to show you my sincerest appreciation.”
~*~
Kili only looked up when a plate of soft grains covered with meat and gravy landed on the table in front of him. He raised his head, expecting to see Tilda returned from the markets, but instead only saw Bain as he dropped into another chair at the table and started to spoon food into his mouth. He slid a second spoon over to the Dwarf.
“Uh, thank you,” Kili said as he finished off a stitch and set the work aside. His stomach rumbled and he realised this was in fact lunchtime, and that he had not stopped working since the brief stop he had taken that morning to wash and change his clothes. He straightened up in his chair and stretched to ease the kinks in his back.
“Where is my sister?” Bain asked, as Kili started to eat.
“Not sure,” the Dwarf replied in between spoonfuls of food. “She went out to the market earlier this morning to get more thread. Has she not returned?”
The boy - more a man now, Kili had to remind himself - shook his head. “None of the maids or kitchen staff have seen her since she left.”
He grunted. “I would not worry too much. She probably got held up fielding baby questions from the town gossipers or something like that.” He paused only to drink some water. “But if she does not return in the next hour or so, I will head out to look for her.”
Bain nodded. “Remind her that Sigrid is coming to stay with us for a while next week, while Fili and my father go to settle that dispute with Esgaroth. I’ll be riding up to Erebor later to help her pack.”
“I will.”
Man and Dwarf finished their lunch, and still Tilda had not returned, so Kili left Bain to sort out his horse for the ride up to the Mountain and headed to Dale’s main square and the marketplace. He wandered the Market for a time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tilda thinking she may have just gotten caught up with shopping and forgotten the time, but when he saw no sign of her, he headed to their usual thread vendor. The woman greeted him merrily.
“How lovely! Both my regular customers in one day!”
“Good afternoon,” Kili said. “Sorry, did you say both? Was Tilda here earlier?”
“Oh yes,” she replied. “She bought a good amount of embroidery floss. Are you working on something nice?”
“It is a joint project,” he replied. “That I was hoping to have those threads for. Did you happen to see where she went after she bought from you?”
“She bumped into that Ranger-lad,” the woman said. “Seemed quite happy to see him, and they went off together, though I could not tell you where.”
“Orodel’s returned?” Kili said mostly to himself, then smiled at the woman. “I believe I know where to look. Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”
He waved goodbye to the vendor and made his way out of the Market and headed across the City to where the Healing Houses stood, turning off onto a side street when he was about halfway there. He stopped at a small two-storey house just as an old woman came out of the lower section.
“Widow Marit, good day,” Kili greeted her.
“Ah, Master Dwarf. Just in time,” she replied. “I was just about to take that young lad up some lunch, but now you’re here, you can spare my old legs the stairs.”
“Young lad?” he asked. “Do you mean Orodel? When did he return, might you know?”
The old lady gave a shrug. “Must have been some time during the night, but I saw him go out earlier this morning. I thought he might be going to Lord Bard’s house to find you, but then I saw him return not long ago, and I think he had a girl with him.”
Kili gave a wry smile. “A girl, you say. Do you know who she was?”
“I was lucky enough to get a glimpse at all, given how fast they went up those stairs.”
The Dwarf accepted the parcel of food from her. “I don’t suppose you have a spare key for the upstairs? I would not want to wake him up in case he’s asleep after his long journey back.”
“Oh of course, how considerate of you.” Widow Marit reached for the ring of keys she wore on her belt and unhooked one, passing it to Kili. “Here you go. Just drop it back with me before you leave.”
Kili took the key and went around to the side of the house, climbing the stairs to the upper storey and unlocking the door. Quietly he pushed it open and stepped inside, then paused. Various items of clothing lay strewn on the floor in an odd trail that led from the small living room to a door that led to what was presumably the bedroom. Amongst them he recognised an emerald green waistcoat, and on the doorknob of the bedroom door hung a pink ribbon.
As he set the food down on a small table by a window, a series of moans - both male and female - came from the room beyond, and Kili smirked to himself and shook his head. He gave them a few more minutes to enjoy themselves before he went over to the other door, cleared his throat and spoke fairly loudly.
“Orodel, welcome back! Widow Marit sent me up here with your lunch!”
There was a muffled yelp from within, followed by a familiar squeak. He stepped back as the door swung open to reveal the Ranger holding up around his waist a hastily thrown-on pair of trousers, the ties completely undone. Small marks dotted his neck and shoulders, barely hidden by his dark hair. Beyond him, Kili saw Tilda sitting up in his bed, the sheet pulled up over her chest, and brown hair considerably mussed. She levelled him with a glare that would have quailed anyone else, but he remained unfazed.
“What are you even doing here?!” she yelled at him.
“As I said, I brought up lunch. Widow Marit was concerned you might not have eaten,” he addressed Orodel, then turned back to Tilda. “And you should only be so lucky that it’s me standing here and not Bain.”
The young woman squirmed. “It should not concern either of you. I am of age now to bed whomever I wish.”
“And I am not your chaperone anymore,” Kili agreed. “But when you say you’re going straight to the market and back, and then don’t appear for hours, you can’t blame people for getting worried.”
Orodel raised his free hand. “I may have encouraged her to come here.”
“I’m sorry,” Tilda added. “I’ll send word next time should I get delayed. And if you want the threads, the package is in my bag. Now can you please go?”
Kili gave an amused smirk and then levelled Orodel with a look. “First thing in the morning you go to the midwives and ask them for something to stop any pregnancy. Then, you’re either going to sort yourself out, or see what is available for her, if you plan on any future shenanigans, because I doubt either of you want to become parents anytime soon.”
Orodel went a considerable shade of red. “I had not thought of that, I admit,” he said. “Thank you, Kili.”
The Dwarf patted his arm as he turned to go. “Be safe; respect each other. Treat her like a queen,” he murmured to the man.
Crossing the living room, he retrieved the package of embroidery floss, and headed to the door, where he suddenly stopped and turned back.
“Oh, and Bain said to remind you that Sigrid is coming to stay next week!” he called.
The last thing he heard, as he shut the door and made his way back down to return the spare key, was a muffled curse, and he grinned to himself. Interesting times were upon them.
==================
Chapter 11
Notes:
This chapter contains brief, non-graphic, implied, consensual sex between an 18-year-old female and 21-year-old male
Chapter Text
CHAPTER TEN
Orodel dropped onto the grass to sit back against a tree, wrapping his woollen cloak around him to keep out the chill air. Kili looked up from where he was reclining in the swing seat and working on more of the blanket embroidery - given Tilda was just a little bit distracted of late - the colder weather not bothering him in the slightest.
“Tired?” he asked the Ranger.
“The midwives are very diligent in their training,” Orodel replied. “Between them, and meeting Tilda’s desires, I am just a little bit thankful for her sister’s arrival.”
Kili chuckled. It had been two weeks since he had walked in on them in Orodel’s lodgings, and since then Tilda had been spending more and more evenings there, sometimes even staying overnight and sneaking back to the house in the early hours of the morning before her father and brother especially became too aware of her absence. More often than not, it was he who covered for her when they asked where she was. This had considerably decreased in frequency a week ago when a heavily pregnant Sigrid had arrived to stay with her siblings while her husband and father were away.
“You knew when you started to court her that she would be the one to take the lead in most things,” he said.
“And I do not mind it,” Orodel replied. “But sometimes I would like for us to slow down, and perhaps lead her now and then.”
“Be glad she’s not an Elf,” said Kili. “Their phases of lust can last for over a month.” He grinned as Orodel squirmed. “You will both mellow out soon enough, but if it’s something you truly want, you should talk to her. And as for taking the lead…” he shrugged. “Maybe surprise her with a little assertiveness on your part.”
“It is certainly a thought.” Orodel then nodded towards the blanket on Kili’s lap. “How goes the work on that?” he asked.
The Dwarf sighed. “Honestly, slower than I would like. This is something that Tilda and I are supposed to work on together, but she has been somewhat absent of late.”
The Ranger ducked his head. “I apologise if I have been keeping her from you. I will try to encourage her to honour her other commitments also.”
“She’s a hard person to say No to.” Kili smiled wryly. “But you need not worry. I should perhaps take my own advice and speak to her about it.”
“Speak to her about what?” a new voice sounded, and both of them turned to see Sigrid come down the steps into the garden carefully, one arm supporting her large belly. “Oh, I had to get some fresh air out here. The smells from the kitchen were making me feel sick.”
Orodel immediately leapt to his feet to help her, while Kili stuffed everything into a bag before she could get a good look, and vacated the seat for her. She sat and gratefully accepted the throw that Kili wrapped around her before he joined Orodel on a nearby bench.
“We are working on a project together,” he said. “I just need her to give it a little more of her time.”
“I see,” Sigrid nodded, then looked at the Ranger. “Is that because she has been spending much of that time bedding you?”
Orodel choked, and she exchanged an amused grin with Kili before regarding the young man again.
“You have no objection from me,” she told him. “Tilda is of age now, and can make her own decisions with regards to whom she wants to lie with, amongst other things. All I ask is that you be safe.”
“I assure you my lady, we have taken all precautions,” Orodel replied.
“Good,” Sigrid replied. “And you…” she looked to Kili. “Don’t let my sister shirk her responsibilities just because she now has a lover’s attention. She’s 18 now; and she has duties to oversee as a Lady of Dale.”
“Yes, your highness,” Kili said mischievously.
“Do you know where she is at present?”
“In the bath,” Orodel replied.
The princess grunted. “Very well. Now, could one of you please be a dear and inform the housekeeper that no, opening some windows briefly to let out some of the kitchen smells, will not result in me coming down with pneumonia, and in fact the fresh air would actually keep me from birthing this child right there on the dining table.”
The Ranger was immediately on his feet. “Right away, your highness.” He disappeared inside the house to deliver the message.
Sigrid swatted Kili. “You see? You spoil him,” she scolded, but without any malice. “But I feel you’re right: he does seem like a good match for Tilda.”
The Dwarf nodded. “Now we just have to hope she’s willing to listen… to both of us.”
~*~
Tilda crept through the house in the early hours of one morning, as silently as she was able, so as not to attract the attention of any of the household staff. While it was well within her right to spend the night where she chose, she still preferred not to be the centre of attention for the usual gossipmongers, and wanted Orodel dragged into it even less so. So the less she gave the staff to talk about the better. Quietly she removed her boots and padded across the living room in her stockings, hoping to reach her room before any of the kitchenhands came out to set up for breakfast.
“I hope you had a restful night,” a voice said, and she just about managed to cup her hand over her mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise.
“Kili!” she hissed. “You scared me half to death! What are you even doing awake at this hour?”
The Dwarf sat in her father’s usual armchair with the window half open, and a steaming mug of coffee on the small table to one side of him. The pale yellow blanket lay spread over his lap, a section presently being worked on confined within a hoop. Tilda felt a small pang of guilt when she saw it, and guessed the answer to her own question.
“This was supposed to be a thing we did together,” he said, and she tried to ignore the slight disappointment in his voice. “But I have been working alone for near two weeks.”
“I know,” she said, quietly. “It’s just…”
“I know,” Kili cut her off. “I know having a lover - especially one as wonderful as Orodel - is exciting; and you’re discovering so many new things about yourself.” He sighed. “But you made a commitment to this… to me.” He held up the hoop. “This is for your sister.”
“And your brother,” Tilda snapped. “And again, I know.”
“Yet you do not seem to be doing anything about it.” A rare frown crossed Kili’s usually smiling features. “You come home at dawn and sleep until noon, then gallivant around the Square with him before you return to his bed for the night. Have I missed anything?”
The young woman scowled at him. “Have you been spying on me?”
“No… but you’re not as discreet as you think you are,” he replied. “That, and the lead midwife has informed me that Orodel has slacked in his training due to fatigue, including missing whole sessions altogether.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever happened to fun-Kili, who was all about breaking rules and going off to do whatever he wanted?”
“He grew up.” Kili levelled a pointed look at her. “And it’s time you did the same.”
“No, you…” she scoffed. “You are just jealous.”
“Oh, do tell, what do I have to be jealous of?”
“You’re jealous of us because you don’t always have Tauriel around to warm your bed with whenever you want. So you’re just envious and frustrated, and you want us to be the same.” Tilda felt bad about her choice of words as soon as she said them.
Kili closed his eyes for a moment and gave a wry smile. “I am returning to Erebor after breakfast,” he said. “Thorin requires me at court while Fili is away.” He stood then and placed the incomplete blanket on the sofa. “I hope you are able to find some time in between your… activities… to complete this gift. I bid you a good morning.” With a bow, he turned and headed to his quarters.
A door shut, and Tilda stalked off to her room with a growl of frustration.
~*~
“He’s being ridiculous!”
A few days had passed since Kili had gone back to the Mountain, and as yet there had been no sight or sound of him around the City - not even a message had been sent.
“Perhaps he is busy,” Orodel said as he got himself dressed. “Both the Crown Prince and the Princess are away; Kili is the Second Prince - as much as he detests the title - and their duties now fall to him.”
Tilda knew this was the more likely explanation, but she still wanted to believe Kili was ignoring her because of how they had left things and what she had said. It felt better to feel slighted than guilty.
“He could have sent a raven, at the very least,” she said.
“You could always ride up to see him.”
“Why should I?!” Tilda snapped then. “He’s the one treating me like I am still a little girl, and not a grown woman who can make my own decisions. He’s not even my parent, but he’s acting like he is my father.”
Orodel sighed. “He just cares for you; I believe his intentions are good.” He looked her over carefully. “Is that all it is, or is there something more you are not saying?”
“I’m saying: this is unfair.”
The Ranger looked up from the bag of the things that he was packing for his resident stay at the Healing Houses. Tilda sat up in his bed, a sheet wrapped around her, and started to help him fold the few items of clothing he had tossed there.
“It will only be five days or so. The Head Midwife would like me to stay in the House and do some overnight watches, just to make up for my tardiness and missing some of those lessons,” he replied. “And I think it would be good if we also took things a bit slower.” He packed the folded clothes inside the bag and fastened it closed.
“A bit slower? Why?” Tilda frowned.
He sighed. “I have been tired. Do not get me wrong, I truly enjoy the time we spend together…” he sat beside her and cupped her cheek. “You are by far the loveliest woman in Dale, and I count myself the luckiest man alive that you wish to share your eagerness with me.”
“Then why are you keen to spend time away from me?” she asked.
“It is not keenness. I would of course love to spend more time with you. But my body and my mind need rest; I still want to learn more about healing and midwifery. And you have your own interests and responsibilities, too, do you not?”
She huffed a sigh. “I suppose I should work more on Sigrid’s gift. Perhaps Kili was a little right to be cross with me - I have neglected it, and my promise to do it together.”
“And I should not get in the way of that. It is a very important gift after all.” Orodel leaned in and kissed her deeply, and for the briefest moment he was tempted to lay her back and take it further, but it would be contrary to what he had said earlier, so with considerable reluctance he pulled away. “I should go. It would not help my standing with the Head if I was late yet again.”
Tilda nodded. “Go. I’ll lock up and leave the key with Widow Marit downstairs.
Orodel kissed her quickly once more and left the room. Tilda waited until she heard the other door close and his footsteps on the stairs before she got up. The place was suddenly far too quiet, so she wasted no time in washing - even if the water was cold - and getting dressed so that she could leave quickly and not miss his presence too much.
Out on the street she paused for a moment and looked towards the Mountain that loomed above the City, and she entertained the thought of riding there to see if she could find a distraction from not having Orodel around, but she was not prepared to see Kili again just yet, and so abandoned the thought. Instead she started to make her way back to her own house - after all, she had a gift to finish, and it was probably not a good idea to leave Sigrid on her own too often these days.
=================
Chapter Text
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“My lady, you should take a rest. You have been at it for ages now, and I fear for your spine.”
Tilda was about to chide Alva for speaking nonsense, when she tried to straighten up and sit back and felt her back protest considerably. She tried and failed to suppress a groan as she attempted a stretch, and Alva gave her a knowing look.
“Yes, yes. You warned me about not taking enough breaks, but this needed to be done.” She gestured to the blanket across her lap. “But what I really needed was for you to warn me when Sig was up and about so I could keep this hidden.”
“She is still a-bed,” Alva replied. “I do hope your father and her husband are already on their way home. I feel the baby may arrive any day now.”
“And that is all the more reason I should get this finished, so they will have something to wrap the little one in.” Tilda stood and tried to stretch her aching back a bit more, while spreading the blanket out to see how much more was left.
These past few days she had started to both appreciate, and feel rather bad about, the amount of work Kili had done all by himself. She tried not to think about how tired Kili must have been working alone, and the aching back and sore, stabbed fingers he had endured, to complete as much as he did. He had finished one of the short borders, and a third of the second, which meant she’d had only a very small section left to work on by the time she had come back to it. As it stood, all that was left was one more kingfisher to embroider, and she could complete it.
“It looks beautiful,” Alva said. “And you have worked very hard on it. I have no doubt the prince and princess will treasure it.”
“Not nearly as hard as some,” Tilda admitted. “Kili put in a lot of effort, too. Maybe even more than me.”
“Well…,” the maid replied. “It was not a competition. Now, why don’t you move this to your room while I run you a warm bath to ease that poor back of yours, and get the kitchens to prepare you some food. Once you are rested and you have some food in your belly, you can return to it and perhaps even finish it.”
She glanced sidelong at the older woman. “I do not get to say No, do I?”
Alva smiled. “You do not.”
The woman made her way to the kitchens for the hot water while Tilda gathered up all her needlework and made for her room where she managed to remove her worn day clothes and slipped into a more comfortable robe. While she waited for Alva’s return, she picked up the small watering can that sat by her window so she could tend to her Mountain Star plant that had grown considerably bigger since she had first received it. It was going to have to be re-potted soon. The plant drew her eyes to the Lonely Mountain, but before she could wonder anything beyond what her friend was doing now, Alva returned to inform her that her bath was ready.
~*~
Clean, rested and fed, Tilda resumed her work on the final bird pattern while Alva made sure to direct any townspeople who came looking for the Ladies of Dale to help with their problems, towards the younger Lord of Dale instead. After all, it would be him that would be succeeding his father, not any of his sisters. “Though the lasses seem to have calmer heads on them,” some of the townsfolk murmured when they thought they could not be heard.
The sun was in the West when Tilda finally placed the last stitch, tied it off and snipped the end. She was about to get up and admire the finished work, when there was a distinct cawing at her window, and she turned to see a raven sitting on her windowsill and preening its feathers. It raised its head to look at her when it saw it had her attention, and proceeded to deliver its message before turning tail and flying off towards Erebor.
“Alva!” She called. But when her maid did not appear after a while, she called a second time. This time she did hear footsteps hurrying towards her room, and shortly after, her door opened to reveal the other woman looking a little out of breath. “There you are, are you alright?”
“Perfectly fine, my lady. There was a messenger at the door,” she replied.
“I have just had a raven as well,” Tilda said. “Please inform my sister, and the rest of the household, that Lord Bard and Prince Fili will be here in three days, barring any unforseen delays on the road.”
Alva nodded. “Good news indeed. Now…”
“Now, I need you to please take this to the seamstress and have her put the backing on. Then it will be ready.” She handed the maid the folded blanket and smiled. “It is finished!”
“That is also good to hear, my lady,” Alva replied, taking the blanket from her. “Now if you would please allow me to deliver the message that came to the door?”
She blinked. “Oh, yes of course. Please, what is it?”
The older woman watched her carefully. “Master Orodel has returned to his lodgings,” she said. “And he would like for you to visit at your earliest convenience.”
Tilda smiled so widely she thought her face would split in two. “Orodel’s back?!” she repeated.
“I believe that was the content of the message, yes.”
“Why did you not say so sooner?”
She quickly went to her wardrobe for a change of clothes more suited for going out, but still easy enough for Orodel to take off and get her back into. Eventually she settled on a plum-coloured dress with a simple laced back that she knew the Ranger loved to undo slowly, and a plain shift to go under it.
Alva shook her head. “Perhaps it would be more prudent for you to wait until morning, my lady,” she counselled. “Of course I am aware of your affection for the lad, and the nights you have spent together, but it is risky, especially as not all your household - or even your family - know of your dalliances with him.”
“You worry too much,” Tilda replied as she started to change her clothes. “I have been more than discreet in my comings and goings from his lodgings. I know what I am doing.”
“I do not see why you still keep this from your father and brother.”
She took off her old shift and pulled the other over her head. “Because they are men, and all they will do is go on about my honour and my virtue and how they should be the ones to protect it.” She stepped into the gown and pulled it up, pleading with her eyes for Alva to help her. “You know how it is; and I want to be in charge of my own virtue.”
The maid relented and laced up the dress. “I do know. And while I support women being in charge of our own bodies and our own honour, I also do not want you to get hurt,” she said. She picked up the blanket again and went to the door first to check that no one lingered outside the room.
Tilda pulled on her boots, then threw a dark, hooded cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood up to cover her hair. “As I said, I will be more than careful.”
Alva crossed the house quietly - Tilda following in her shadow - and opened the main doors. “Go, while there is still some light left. I never saw you.”
“You are a gem amongst ladies’ maids. Thank you,” she said, and slipped outside, hurrying down the street in the gloaming.
~*~
Since returning from Rohan, Bain sometimes liked to take a walk along the City walls and look out over the valley that surrounded them. At times he would stop and remember the battle from years ago; other times he would try to imagine what a future battle might look like - where enemies might position their armies, where allies could place theirs to give them the best advantage. Deep down though, he knew the City could not withstand a sustained siege, at which time their only chance at survival would be to evacuate to Erebor, provided the Dwarves would let them in.
So he also knew the advantage of maintaining good relations with the Lonely Mountain, and it was particularly fortunate for them that Sigrid had married the Crown Prince, and was soon due to have their first child.
He continued along the walls making mental notes - of possible escape routes, of where to place defenses, of where to gather those who could not fight - until he came to one of the guard houses where a change of shift was just taking place. The guards acknowledged him before carrying on their way to either their posts or their homes. One remained, however, and seemed to hesitate.
Bain noted this. “Does something trouble you?” he asked, trying to make himself approachable.
“My Lord Bain,” the man said. “If I could have a moment of your time? Only… I think it is something that might be of concern to you and your family.”
“My family?” Bain echoed. “Of course, yes. Come with me, let us find somewhere to talk.”
He led the man off the walls and once they returned to street level they found a bench in a quieter corner where they could speak without the worry of eavesdroppers listening in. Bain sat and looked up at the man.
“Go ahead,” he said.
The guard cleared his throat. “It is only… I had the late watch last night and I… That Ranger lad who lodges above Widow Marit: do you know him?”
“He is a friend of my younger sister,” Bain replied. “I think they met while I was away. He came to train with the Dwarves and then decided to stay here for good - or at least that’s what I was told.”
“It is not my place to speculate, my lord,” said the guard. “But I believe I saw Lady Tilda enter his lodgings well after dusk last evening, and only left earlier this morning, shortly before you arrived.”
Bain raised a brow. “That is indeed speculation. How can you be certain the woman you saw was my sister?”
“With respect my lord Bain, I have seen Lady Tilda since she was a young girl running around these streets with that Dwarf Prince. I would recognise her anywhere - she brought my wife flowers the day we married - and I am certain it was she who I saw last night.”
“I see.” He was frowning now, trying to recall if he had even seen Tilda at breakfast that morning. He was not one to usually keep tabs on his sisters; especially as he had been away for so long, he did not feel like it was his place to do so.
“I would not want to see the young lady compromised or taken advantage of by a more worldly Ranger,” the guard said. “Which is why I felt I had to speak - especially with Lord Bard away.”
Bain stood and clapped a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “I thank you for bringing this to my attention, and for your discretion. I trust this will stay between us?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“You have my gratitude. Now please go home and rest. You have had a long night.”
He released the man, and the guard bowed before taking his leave. Bain watched until he was out of sight, then frowned and let out a sigh, turning on his heel and quickening his pace as he headed back home.
~*~
Tilda entered the house not long after he did, and Bain scrutinised her a little more closely than he normally would. On the surface there seemed nothing out of place, but looking closer he noted it was a dress she usually wore for more important occasions rather than for a stroll through the City. But it was her hair that gave her away as she removed her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. He knew Tilda always took impeccable care of her hair, but this morning it looked un brushed and hastily pinned in places.
“You’ve been out early,” he remarked, trying to remain nonchalant.
She looked at him confused for a moment, and he noted the faint shadows under her eyes, as if she had not gotten much sleep. “I like to go out for a walk in the morning sometimes,” she said.
“I suppose it helps if you’ve not had enough sleep at night,” Bain replied.
He noted the colour rise in her cheeks as she faced him full on, her hands resting on her hips as she frowned at him.
“I slept perfectly fine, if you must know. And sometimes I like to go for walks first thing because it is cooler and not as busy,” she snapped.
“In one of your best gowns?” he asked.
Tilda rolled her eyes. “What I wear and when I wear it is none of your business. You have been away, Bain, and things have changed here; people have changed. And you do not just get to stroll back in and try to order things like they were before you left.”
“Be that as it may, while father is away, I am the man of the house, and it is my job to see that the rules are followed.”
She scoffed. “We are not children anymore, brother. And I do not know what they taught you in Rohan, but I do not answer to you, either. You do not suddenly have authority over us just because you are a man.”
Bain frowned. “They taught me how to be a leader, including of this household, and I want to know where you have—.”
“Bain, son of Bard, you will cease this behaviour immediately.”
They looked to the living room to see Sigrid standing by the door, one hand supporting her large belly, the other on the doorframe to support her. She was glaring at her brother and it was enough to make him quail just a little bit.
“Sig…” Tilda started.
“Please return to your room. I have asked Alva to help you change for breakfast,” she told her sister. “And I believe your plant needs watering.”
Throwing one more withering look at Bain, Tilda turned and retreated to her room; behind her she could hear her big sister chewing out her brother about his attitude and how he needed to speak to women. She shut the door before she could hear Bain’s reply, and only then did she let out a sigh of relief. Not for the first time did she wish for Kili’s presence - he had never spoken to her the way her brother just did no matter how improper she was - because she knew he would be on her side.
There was a soft tap on her door, and Alva entered holding the finished blanket in her hands. She gave Tilda a knowing look as she set the blanket down and started to help the younger woman take off her dress.
“Not one word,” Tilda said. “But I did invite Orodel over for dinner. The poor thing, he has been eating only bread, cheese and apples since he got back from the Healing Houses.” She looked at the blanket and at the mosaic birds that Kili had worked on so diligently and felt another pang at his absence.
Alva followed her gaze as she picked up the gown and passed Tilda a robe to wear for washing.
“I will inform the kitchens, and Lady Sigrid, to prepare for guests this evening,” she said, heading to the door. “There is hot water in your washroom should you need it.” She gave Tilda another pointed look and left the room.
~*~
Orodel found her on her swing seat that evening when Alva showed him into the back garden upon his arrival. He made his way down the steps and crossed the grass as she made some room for him to sit beside her.
“This is a remarkable contraption,” he said as he sat and put his arm around her.
“That’s the Dwarves for you,” she said as she rocked them back and forth. “They love to invent things.”
“Will any of them be in attendance this evening?”
“I do not know,” she admitted.
“You should make up with Kili,” he said. “Your friendship spans years; it would be a shame to throw it away.”
She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder, knowing he was right and that she had been rather unfair when all Kili had done was try to help her. They sat together quietly for a while, taking in the delicious smells coming from the kitchens, and they both smiled.
“Do you remember that day you helped me cook that ridiculous lunch for Fili and Sig?” Tilda asked.
“I do not think I could ever forget it,” he replied. “It was, after all, the first time you kissed me.”
“I kissed you thinking I was saying goodbye to you forever.”
He tilted her chin up. “Then perhaps you could help me alter that memory,” he murmured, before leaning in and kissing her softly.
Tilda could feel herself melting as she returned his kiss and turned slightly in his arms to deepen it.
“TILDA!”
The sudden shout made them spring apart in surprise, and they turned to see Bain stalking down the stairs, his face curled into a scowl. Orodel got to his feet first and took a few steps towards the other man as Tilda followed a few paces behind.
“Good evening; it is good to finally meet you properly, Bain,” he said, extending a hand in greeting.
In the next moment he found himself face-down in the grass, pain blossoming across his face as blood dribbled from his nose. Tilda was immediately by his side with a cry of dismay as she tried to check him for any further damage.
“How DARE you set foot in this house after sullying my sister’s honour and reputation?!” he shouted. “Get up and face me!”
“Stop this right now!” Tilda screamed at him as she helped Orodel to stand. “Who do you even think you are?!”
“I am your brother!” Bain yelled back at her. “What were you even thinking, lying with a wandering Ranger like some common tramp?! Do you know how much dishonour you have brought on our family?!”
“The only one who has dishonoured this family is you!” Tilda shot back. “Listen to yourself, shouting like one of those trolls from the battle.”
Orodel gently moved Tilda aside before she launched herself at her brother’s throat, then looked at Bain. “Apologise to her,” he said. “Whatever your grievance with me, there is no reason for using vulgar terms on your own sister.”
This time he was prepared for Bain’s reaction, blocking his swing with his forearm and pushing him back. This only seemed to anger Bain more as he threw himself at the Ranger. Each time, Orodel deflected his attack, his training with the Dwarves taking over as he tuned out Tilda’s screams and parried as best he could, though he was careful not to hurt the other man. He was still Tilda’s brother after all, and he partly understood his anger.
“Please stop this and apologise to her.”
“You welcomed her in and let her demean herself!” Bain shouted as he charged the Ranger again.
“I welcome her because I love her,” Orodel said. “Apologise.”
He took a step back and his foot caught on a raised tree root causing him to stumble. It was all Bain needed to move in, and he braced himself for another fist to the head when there was a sudden blur of teal and silver and Bain ended up sprawled on the grass a few feet away. Tilda gasped.
“Kili!”
Orodel righted himself in time to see the Dwarf Prince standing in front of Tilda, and in between him and Bain, who was slowly getting to his feet. He looked thoroughly unimpressed, and despite his smaller stature he easily exuded an air of command that warned anyone around against trying to cross him. Bain came towards Orodel again and once more Kili blocked him and sent him to the grass.
“Enough!” he said firmly. “You will get ahold of yourself and start acting like a young lord of Dale, and you will show your sister and her guest some respect!”
“Stay out of this, Kili,” Bain snapped. He stood up again, but wisely chose not to run at them again. “You do not know what they have done.”
“They are both of age, and how they choose to spend their time together is of no one else’s concern; and the only one behaving dishonourably here is you.” Kili frowned at him. “I expected far more graciousness from the son of Bard the Dragonslayer. He would be disappointed in your behaviour tonight.”
The mention of his father was like a bucket of cold water over his head, and they saw Bain visibly deflate. Kili’s posture relaxed, and it was only then Tilda felt the tension start to leave her body. She went over to Orodel and started to dab at his bleeding nose with one of her handkerchiefs. Bain watched them sullenly.
“Tilda is a Lady of Dale,” he said quietly so only Kili could hear. “I just want better for her than a mere Ranger.”
“That is not up to you,” Kili replied. “Nor is she a doll to be played with. And if you think the Rangers of the North ‘mere’ then perhaps you should cool your temper by reading up on their heritage. I’m sure I can arrange with the loremasters to deliver you some material.” He crossed his arms. “Now are we quite finished with this farce of an honour-duel?”
Bain nodded and went back inside, passing Sigrid at the door who had come to see what the commotion was all about.
“Ah, Kili, you made it. How lovely. I thought my message would not have reached you in time.”
The Dwarf’s demeanour changed to his cheerful, carefree appearance in an instant, and he smiled. “I got it just in time,” he said.
“Wait, you invited him?!” Tilda exclaimed.
“Of course. I feared Bain might still be spoiling for a fight after this morning, so I thought you might want someone in your corner to support you,” Sigrid replied. Then she winced and rubbed her belly. “And now I must sit down I fear or my legs will completely give way.”
===================
Chapter 13
Notes:
This chapter contains brief, non-graphic, implied, consensual sex between an 18-year-old female and 21-year-old male.
It also contains brief, non-graphic mentions of labour and childbirth.
Chapter Text
CHAPTER TWELVE
Orodel sat on the edge of Tilda’s bed later that night, rubbing his sore nose where Kili had set it back into place earlier. He sighed, letting the sense of peace that had permeated the room wash over him and then looked around. This was the first time he had been in her room and it was about as he expected a lady’s room to look like. His eyes came to rest on the plant that sat on her windowsill and he was about to stand up to get a better look at it, when the door opened and Tilda entered.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I am alright,” he replied. “How is your brother? I noted he did not have dinner with us.”
“He had a tray in his room, and has gone for a walk to clear his head.” She sat beside him. “I apologise for his behaviour tonight. Had I known he would react like that, I would not have put you in harm’s way.”
Orodel took her hand. “You are not to blame for the actions of another.”
She gave it a squeeze. “No, you don't understand. If I had told him and my father about you and me from the start, perhaps he would not have acted this way.”
“Why did you not?”
“I’m not ashamed of us, if that is the reason you think,” she said. “I just knew this was how Bain especially would behave - trying to protect some imagined virtue they think I possess because I’m now perceived as a lady - but I’m still a girl who grew up as a simple bargeman’s daughter, and these choices of what to do with my own body are mine to make.”
“But you are not the daughter of a bargeman anymore,” he said. “Whether you like it or not, you are a Lord’s daughter now, and there are expectations that come with it - like who you will eventually marry.”
Tilda stood and looked down at him. “And do you think that when it comes time for me to choose a suitor, that I will not choose you?”
Orodel shrugged. “What prospects or connections do I have, Tilda? I do not think I can even call myself a Ranger anymore.”
“Do you believe me that shallow, that what you can offer is what I care about? That all this has just been a dalliance, to train myself for an eventual husband?” she asked, frowning.
“I want to believe that it is not,” he replied.
When Tilda sat down again, it was on his lap. She gently cupped his face and kissed him first on the nose, then on the lips. “Then believe me, and not expectations.” She kissed him again as his arms encircled her. “Believe that I want to be with you because I love you, too.”
He kissed her first this time, pulling her closer and deepening it until they were both out of breath. They parted for air for a moment and Tilda’s fingers loosened the ties on his shirt. He released her so she could remove it.
“I cannot say how well I will be able to please you,” he said as she pulled the shirt over his head.
“Then we will go as slow as you wish,” Tilda replied. “Your pace.”
Orodel smiled and embraced her again, and she leaned her weight against him to push him down onto the bed. As he lay back, his eyes glanced at the flower again, before finding her face.
“That flower by your window?” he asked as she leaned over him. “What is it?”
“Oh that? Kili gave it to me. It’s a wildflower that grows on the slopes of Erebor.”
“It is beautiful.” He brushed a curl of hair away from her face. “What is its name?”
“It is called Mountain Star,” she said.
Orodel’s eyes widened and he raised himself up slightly to speak when they heard a crash from somewhere outside the room, followed by what was an undeniable cry of pain.
“Sigrid!” Tilda was off him, and out of the door in seconds, the Ranger following close behind.
~*~
Kili did not waste time knocking as he entered Bain’s room. The young man was awake in seconds, just as another cry of anguish echoed through the house. He darted to the door, but the Dwarf caught him in an iron grip.
“Let go!” the man yelled. “Sigrid needs me.”
“Bain, stop!” Kili said loudly and firmly. “Sigrid is in safe hands. Orodel has her. The baby is coming.”
“And what would a Ranger know about that?!”
“Orodel is a healer, beyond that there is no time to explain.” Kili dragged him to the door. “Get the fastest horses you have and ride to the Healing Houses. Tell them what’s happening and get help here - quickly!” He pushed the man outside. “Go! Help your sister by bringing the midwife.”
Finally Bain nodded and ran for the stables as Kili ran back inside. Shortly after he heard the quick clop of hoofs of the street that faded into the distance. Within the house Alva directed some of the other household staff to fetch towels and blankets and heat water, all amidst the cries he could hear coming from Sigrid’s bedroom. The woman stopped him.
“I understand she is the princess’ sister, but you need to remove Lady Tilda from the room,” she said. “She is frantic and it is not helping any of them.”
“Understood.”
Kili made his way into Sigrid’s room. The princess lay on her side, trying to muffle her screams into her pillow while Orodel sat beside her, holding her hand and encouraging her to shift onto her hands and knees. Tilda paced nearby, looking close to tears herself, and every now and then she hovered by the Ranger asking if she could do anything, and each time Orodel replied as politely as he could that he just needed space and time. But Kili could tell he was growing tense from having to shift his focus from Sigrid to Tilda and back constantly.
“Any word of Fili?” Sigrid asked as she pushed herself up as much as she could to move into Orodel’s recommended position.
Kili shook his head. “All I know is they’re due back tomorrow. I begged a raven to fly out and find them now, but ravens will do as they see fit.”
“Let me ride out and find them!” Tilda said.
“Out of the question,” Kili replied. “It is dark out, and you do not know from which direction they are coming. All you will do is get lost yourself.”
Tilda wrung her hands and went back to Sigrid. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Water? More blankets?”
“You can get out of this room!!” Sigrid screamed at her as she curled up through another contraction.
Orodel rubbed her back and looked at Kili. “Perhaps it is best if Lady Sigrid is left alone,” he said. “I will stay with her and help her until the midwife arrives.”
“An excellent idea.” Kili started to steer Tilda to the door. “You need to trust him; this is what he has been training for,” he told her. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Tilda resisted. “But I just…”
“GET OUT!”
Sigrid’s yell and glare was enough to stun Tilda momentarily so Kili could pull her out of the room and shut the door. He led her into the living room and sat her down on the sofa, then went to the fireplace and stoked up the embers before adding more wood on. In minutes, a fresh fire was blazing and the room grew comfortably warmer.
He returned to Tilda and sat by her, noting her shell-shocked expression and shaking hands. It reminded him of when he used to be hit by the waking nightmares of the battle. He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Breathe,” he said. “Sigrid will be fine.”
“She has never shouted at me like that before. I’ve never heard her scream like that before. Not even when the orcs invaded our house on the Lake, or the dragon came,” Tilda replied, her voice quivering.
“Well, she has never given birth before now,” Kili assured her. “I’ve heard some of the dwarrowdams say taking an arrow is more pleasant.”
Tilda cringed. “Not helping.”
“My apologies.” Kili grinned.
She looked at him and cracked the shadow of a smile. “Thank you for being here. Even after I treated you so badly before - I said some really unkind things, and I am sorry.”
The Dwarf ruffled her hair like he had done so many times when she was young. “Can’t keep me away forever,” he said. “And I’m sorry I have not been down before now. Uncle kept finding me new things to do - training me up on the proper behaviour holding court, he said it was. It seems I will be doing more of it in the near future, while Fili learns how to be a father.”
“Does that mean I will not see you around as much?” Tilda asked, dismayed.
“Perhaps not as much,” Kili admitted. “But between being an aunt to the baby, and seducing your Ranger, I expect you will be quite busy to miss me over much.”
“I will always miss you.”
She cringed as they heard Sigrid give another scream, and her fingers tightened around his hands. Kili let her hold on as he strained his ears to listen for the sound of hoofs on stone. Surely Bain should be on his way back with help by now. He could tell Tilda was reaching the same conclusion, but not wanting to set her off into a panic again, he stood.
“Waiting is always the hardest part,” he said. “So I have an idea. Give me a moment….”
She heard him puttering and rummaging around parts of the house before he returned with their embroidery kits and some large squares of undyed cotton. These he put down on the table in front of the sofa, and then went to light a few more lamps so they could better see.
“You want to do needlework at a time like this?” she asked.
“What better time? You told me once that it helps you to focus and takes your mind off other things happening around you,” Kili replied. “I bought these cleaning cloths for the baby.” He fixed one in a hoop and handed it to her. “Shall we see how many we can finish by the time the little one gets here? Nothing complicated - just a little something in a corner.”
Tilda picked up a stick of soapstone chalk even as Sigrid screamed again, and Orodel called for more hot water. She started to sketch, as Alva walked swiftly past with a large basin and more washcloths, trying her best to tune out the sounds of her big sister labouring to bring her baby into the world.
~*~
Kili had just taken the last cleaning cloth out of the hoop when he thought he heard the sound of horse hoofs at the front door. Tilda had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and he had just nudged her awake when the front door swung open. He looked over, expecting to see Bain and the midwife enter, but it was Fili who dashed inside, followed closely by Bard.
“Her room,” Kili said before his brother even asked, and Fili nodded before rushing in.
Bard hung back and found himself with his arms full of his youngest daughter.
“How long?” he asked the Dwarf as he hugged Tilda.
“A few hours now. I sent Bain to get the midwife, but they’ve not returned,” Kili replied.
“Are you telling me Sigrid has been by herself all this time?” Bard frowned.
“No, Da. Orodel has been helping her,” Tilda said.
“The Ranger?!”
Tilda pulled back. “He’s not just a Ranger. He’s a healer, and he has been training to become a midwife,” she said.
“And right now, he’s all we have,” Kili added. “We have to trust him.”
Bard looked less than pleased at this prospect, but said nothing more about it. Instead he went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, while Tilda and Kili cleared their needlework away for when he came back holding two mugs of coffee, and a cup of tea for Tilda.
She sipped a bit, then looked at her father. “How are you here so quickly?” she asked. “We were not expecting you until much later.”
“We had just stopped to set up camp for the night,” he replied. “When Fili spotted the raven and hailed it. She had been looking for us, and told us the baby was hatching. So we decided to ride through the night and just get here. We were lucky the horses were strong, but I think Fili would have run here on foot if he’d needed to.”
They were halfway through their hot drinks, and the sky had lightened considerably outside, when the loudest scream they had heard yet from Sigrid brought them all to their feet in alarm. Tilda wondered if this was bringing up bad memories of her mother for Bard, and was about to ask him, when they heard a new cry, and a shout from Orodel. Tilda held on to her father and Kili in suspense as they waited for news.
After what seemed like hours - though it had only been about 30 minutes - the door to Sigrid’s room opened and Alva stuck her head out.
“You can all come in if you can stay calm and be quiet,” she said.
Tilda only narrowly beat Kili to the door and entered a step ahead of him. Fili was opening the windows to let in some light and fresh air, while Alva and another maid stripped the bed of the soiled sheets before they put clean ones on. In a corner, Orodel was scrubbing what looked to be blood off his hands, while a second maid carried out something wet wrapped in brown paper.
Sigrid meanwhile sat in a large armchair, drenched in sweat and her usual gold hair hanging limply about her shoulders. But thankfully she looked to be in no more pain, and she held a bundle in her arms. As Tilda drew closer she saw the bundle was wrapped in a familiar yellow blanket embroidered with various mosaic kingfishers along the border.
“I am told I have the two of you to thank for this,” Sigrid said. “So in appreciation of your hard work, I would like you both to meet your niece: Tuva.”
She shifted the bundle and revealed the little baby girl, comfortably asleep nestled in the blanket. She had the same golden hair as her parents, and Tilda could not help but notice the little wisps of golden fuzz growing down the sides of her face - after all, Tuva was half-Dwarf.
“Think she’ll grow a fuller beard than you, brother?” Fili asked as he joined them and clapped Kili on the shoulder.
“She’d better,” Kili replied. “I can’t be having any competition.”
Tilda was about to retort when there was another commotion outside the door, and Oin walked in followed by a midwife and Bain. Orodel immediately moved to intercept them, assuring them mother and child were well and safe and just needed rest - to which he was roundly told that they would be the judge of that, thank you very much.
A few minutes later they were all ejected from the room, with the exception of Orodel and Fili. Kili looked at Bain expecting a full explanation of what the delay had been.
“I went to the Healing Houses, but most of the attending midwives and nurses had gone home for the night, and those who were on the nightshift were dealing with an emergency,” the young man said. “I did not know where else to go, so I rode to the Mountain to seek Master Oin. On the way back here, we crossed paths with one of the other midwives who was on her way to the Houses for the morning shift and convinced her to come with us.” He looked at those assembled. “If there are no more questions, I’m going back to bed.”
Bard himself covered a yawn. “Perhaps we all should get some sleep if we are to be of any use to Fili and Sigrid later. We cannot help if we do not rest ourselves.”
“And I will be taking that advice,” Kili said as he stretched and then headed to his own room.
Tilda was about to retreat to hers when Orodel emerged from the room and came over to her. He looked as if he had been through a battle, and Tilda felt something in her heart twinge as she looked at him. As he reached her, he just about collapsed in her arms, and as she held him she glanced at her father, who raised a brow.
“Make sure he gets a good sleep,” was all Bard said before making for his quarters.
The young couple walked slowly to Tilda’s room and Orodel only had enough energy left to remove his dirty clothes before collapsing on her bed and closing his eyes. Tilda shut the door, slipped off her robe, then went over and started to tuck him in under the blankets. For a moment she thought he was already asleep, but then his grey eyes met hers and he smiled.
“I delivered a baby…,” he said, happily. “And she was lovely.” He reached up and stroked her face. “And you’re lovely. Can we have a baby?”
“Maybe in a few years’ time.” Tilda smiled and looked down at him intensely. “And only if you marry me first.”
Orodel’s eyes widened when he realised she was not joking. “Are you serious? You want to marry me?”
She nodded. “I do.”
Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, Orodel reached up and pulled her down into his arms, her shift joining his clothes on the floor. He rolled them so she lay beneath him, and she looked up at him with no small amount of longing, her arms going around him.
“Tell me again what you just said,” he murmured into her ear as he kissed the side of her neck.
“I do,” she moaned. “I want to marry you.”
The last word barely had time to leave her lips as Orodel captured her mouth and kissed her hungrily.
~*~
Tilda was not sure what the time was when they finally tired each other out, but the sun shone through the window, and on her windowsill, her flower started to open up to catch its rays.
“I did not get to tell you before,” Orodel said, as he stroked her hair.
“Hmm?” She was nestled comfortably against his side and her eyes had started to close.
“Mountain Star.”
“What about it?”
“That is what my name means.”
====================
Chapter 14: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
EPILOGUE
Tilda looked out of the window of her room for at least the fifth time that morning as she sat in a chair and let Alva brush her brown hair out. Her fingers scrunched the fabric of the silky slip she wore causing the older woman to stop and poke her shoulder.
“Calm yourself, my lady,” she said. “He will be here. You remember how you fretted at your sister’s wedding.”
“Yes. And I was just a guest at that one,” Tilda replied. “This is different.”
Nonetheless she released the fabric and took a breath, letting her eyes drift to the Mountain Star flower that still sat on her windowsill, though now it was no longer alone. In the past three years it had grown ever larger in its new pot and a second flower had since taken root and blossomed alongside it; and though smaller in stature, it was no less beautiful than its bigger counterpart. On this morning it seemed the flowers almost glowed in the sunlight, as if they sensed what a special day this was.
And it was special… and a long time coming.
While they had pledged to each other on that morning Sigrid’s baby was born, they had kept their betrothal secret for at least another three months - only telling Kili because there was no way they would have been able to hide it from his discerning eyes - so as not to take away from the festivities in both the City and the Mountain celebrating little Tuva’s birth.
It was only after the merriment had died down considerably that Orodel had then enacted a more public proposal to Tilda, for the benefit of everyone else. Her father had approved the engagement on the condition that the actual marriage - and any accompanying wedding - be held only after Tilda turned 21 years of age. She celebrated that birthday two weeks ago, and now she sat in a chair in her room being polished and prepared for a wedding that had been at least three years in the making.
There was a knock on the door, and Tilda would have leapt from her chair had it not been for Alva’s strong hands on her shoulders holding her down.
“Enter,” the older woman said.
The door opened to admit Kili - carrying a large box - and another familiar face.
“Elín!” Tilda exclaimed as she saw who the second visitor was.
“It is an honour to be helping you once more on this special day,” she said. “Though you may not be marrying Dwarven royalty, we shall nonetheless have you looking like a queen.”
“And I will need all your help to tackle that hornet’s nest she calls hair,” Alva quipped. “Come, I will show you where you can set up.”
The older matrons moved to a side of the room, leaving Kili with the task of revealing the contents of the box to Tilda.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“How is Orodel?” she asked.
“Terrified out of his mind,” he replied. “I think Bain might have slipped him a flask.”
Tilda scowled. “I’m going to kill him.”
Kili laughed. “Maybe do it tomorrow. I do not want all my hard work getting spoiled.” He reached into his pocket and took out an old, folded handkerchief that he pressed into her palm. “Do you remember this?”
She recognised it immediately as she unfolded the square of cotton. “You gave me this on my 10th birthday,” she said. “You had just started to learn embroidery and tried to do this Mountain Star design.”
He nodded. “I’ve come a long way from those squiggly lines and uneven fills, thanks to you. And more than that, you helped me find myself again. So I thought I’d show you that little token and let you know… I’ve perfected the Mountain Star design.”
“What? Really?” Tilda asked.
The Dwarf grinned, and Tilda could not help but notice how resplendent he looked in his formal attire, as he lifted the lid off the box and reached in with pure delight to reveal what was inside.
~*~
“How do I look?” Tilda asked as she made her way into the living room where Kili waited after he had presented her with his wedding gift.
Kili looked her over as she walked to him. Half of her hair was pinned up in an elaborate pattern of braids while the other half hung in soft curls around her shoulders. Fine chains of gold and silver hung from the light brown locks and sparkled in the light. Her skin shimmered and delicate jewels of purple and green adorned her neck and ears. All to highlight the pale blue gown she wore that flared once it was past her waist into a wide skirt and long train that spread behind her.
What made the dress stand out was the embroidery close to the bottom of the skirt and along the entire outer edge of the train. It was as Kili had said - a repeating motif of the Mountain Star done in a Dwarven style where instead of filling the petals with a solid colour, he had instead embroidered each individual leaf, and petal of the flower with a unique pattern of its own. It was fine, delicate work, and showcased the skill of a master embroiderer.
“More radiant than the Arkenstone itself,” Kili replied. “Shall we go then? See if we can’t completely enthrall your husband-to-be into giving you a mind-blowing wedding night?”
Tilda blushed. “Kili!” She swatted him on the arm. “That was cheeky, but yes. Yes we shall.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow - where it still rested so comfortably after all these years - and let him escort her from the house, and along the street that led to the Great Hall of Dale. She looked at him as they walked.
“Will you be alright?” she asked.
Kili smiled. “I will be just fine,” he said. “And if you ever need an escort around the marketplace, you know where to find me.”
“I will definitely take you up on that offer, Prince Kili.”
“The pleasure will be all mine, Lady Tilda.”
~ END
Notes:
ChrissyStriped's beautiful embroidery in the linked artwork is the Mountain Star flower design that Kili embroiders on Tilda's wedding gown.