Middle Earth || OS

7. Fili | Up Here

Tumblr : heilith

" Imagine Fili being so happy that you are a human because his face is on the same level of your breasts. Not that he doesn't like or look at your face and eyes, but boobs are boobs and he's obsessed by yours.

NSFW.

Word count: 2400

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Up Here

"Do that again, and I'll spit on top of your head."

Fili stares up at you innocently.

"Now what did I do?"

You didn't really hope the threat would work. There are some strong doubts the action would. A bunch of "My eyes are up here"s, "say that to my face"s and plain old "go hug yourself"s had no desired effect on him.

Here goes the second week of regretting the nature bestowed you with something to put in your bras.

"Stop. Bumping. Into. My. Upper. Parts," you speak slowly, each word a heavy punch you wish, but can't really give him.

"Sorry. I was lost in thoughts."

The apology is unconvincing, when presented directly to your sternum. The fellow has the actual guts to bat his eyelashes, too.

At times you try to think it's about nothing. Being in a purely male company is prone with a certain degree of that type of tension. You do get dreamy stares now and then. Pensive stares. May-be stares, and winks, and whistles, and comments none of them really means.

And then you get Fili's attention, with a quarter of it spread over your general femality, and the rest densely centered on and around your bust.

Obsession is a good word for what lights up in those already sparkling eyes, when you forget to button up. Also when you don't. It's like he's an avid plushie collector and your boobs are two last teddy-bears in the whole world he hasn't yet snatched to add to his showcase.

"Did it hurt? It shouldn't have hurt, I merely nuzzled...ummm..." Fili makes a vague gesture somewhere between his face and your chest, "...you."

"Oh, go nuzzle...ummm...Bombur," you advise him in a huff, diving into your bag to fish out a lean sliver of soap and a comparatively clean towel.

"I don't like leaning."

"D'you think I do?" you snap over your shoulder.

Regret comes in almost immediately.

You are not proud of bringing up the subject of height differences in such an offensive way. There's little knowledge how sensitive the Dwarves are about their size, and, even if they're not, the retort sounded unnecessarily hard for someone who wants to fit in.

Fili, however, looks placid enough, searching his pockets for a flint and steel and whistling something off-tune under his nose. He meets your glance and flashes a smirk at you.

No hard feelings, then.

"Be so kind to drop it, Fili," you ask him on a calmer note, as you head off to the river, "Not nice."

* * *

You hate mountains. You hate cliffs, rocks, hills; each flipping bump on the face of Middle-Earth is your personal enemy.

"Fili!"

"Can't let go!" yells he cheerfully.

The path looked all safe and nice, if a bit on the narrow side. You felt quite confident until the smallest, the most insignificant pebble, which has probably been waiting for this moment of glory for ages, got under your boot and sent you tripping down and into the deep ravine below.