Middle Earth || OS

8. Kili | Of Sacks And Snacks

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Imagine having to share a sack with Kili because the mountain Trolls didn't have enough

"Tom, what about this one?"

"What one?"

"Her, this squirmy worm! We don't have enough sacks!"

The dimwit Trolls are talking about you, hanging upside down in the monster fingers of the one called Bert. Your tunic has dropped over your face and you're twisting in vain, trying to see what's happening and most importantly, to give these idiots a piece of your mind. Right now, your curses are coming out muffled.

"Just put 'er in with one of the others," Tom tells him.

You hear a struggle below you, and someone protesting. Kili.

"Watch what you're doing! Hey! Get your Troll paws off me!"

They're putting you in a sack with your sweetheart.

This should be interesting.

Your face is finally uncovered after Bert lowers you, then shoves and squashes you against Kili's body, every one of your love's buckles poking you. Bert pulls up the burlap sack and cinches it tight around both your and Kili's necks.

You look straight ahead, because you're bound so tight in this too-small sack that you can barely move.

"It's going to be all right," Kili says softly.

"Of course it is. Because I'm going to KILL THESE FOOLS!"

"Shut up girlie and stay nice 'n snug till we roast ya," William the Troll says, and his buddies start laughing like the dopes they are.

"Girlie! I'll have you know I'm a grown-"

"SNACK!" Tom says, keeping the cackling going.

Feeling helpless, you groan and roll your eyes hard, looking off past Kili's right ear at another squirming sack of Dwarf, Oin. You're not sure why you feel too shy to look at Kili — now is not the time to think about your feelings for him - but you do.

"Hey," Kili says, his voice smooth and deep. "Look at me."

Your eyes shift timidly to his. "Your bottom lip is trembling. Your whole body is trembling." Then he pauses and says sincerely, "I am so very sorry for all of this. I didn't want this for any of us, least of all you."

A single tear rolls down your face but you smile through it, and Kili kisses your forehead. The situation looks truly hopeless, and he hates to see you so upset.

"Well," Kili sighs, trying to lighten the last mood he thinks you'll likely have again, "we're finally in the sack together. Although this isn't quite what I had in mind."

You can't believe you're now laughing, even a tiny bit.

"Good, I made you smile," he says.

"A little happiness before we're eaten?"

Kili's hand cups your bottom.

"Exactly."

He kisses your forehead again, then grabs you tighter and presses his pelvis against you. You blush like a red rose.

"You are insane!" You take a quick look around. Absolutely no one is paying attention to you two - that you can see, anyway.

You grind back slowly - up, down, up, around - feeling him rise. From outside, you hope it just looks like you two are squirming to get out.

"Oh!" Kili gasps.

"Dammit, Kili!" you whisper angrily. "You're too loud."

"You're too good."

His fingers wander to the edge of your tunic, and soon they're creeping up, finding your skin. You hold his fingers under yours, right on your belly, still gazing at him.

"Have I told you that I love you?" he asks.

"Tell me again." You look over at the bumbling Trolls steadily turning your chums over the fire. "I really, really need to hear it."

"I love you so very much."

"I love you, too."

"And I love you both," says Gloin, behind you, "but I hope you two aren't doin' what I think you're doin'!"

You growl in exasperation. The person who said it was good to be a center of attention deserved to be smacked on the head. Hard.

"Hey, what are they doin'?" pleads Fili, planted facedown into the dirty grass.

"Adding to the Durin's line," Balin sighs somewhere over your head - the last of all Dwarves in Middle-Earth you could expect to be so callous.

Fili wiggles in his sack, sporting the most unbelievable poses in the attempt to face you.

"HOW EVEN?! Ah, nevermind...Kili, I want a niece!"

"You want a kick in the butt!" Kili yells, loudly enough to make your brain ring, "Mind your own business!"

"Kili! Y/N!" Thorin cuts in disapprovingly, "You're not alone."

"What? Kili broke a bone?" Oin cackles with fatherly care, "Small wonder, laddie, if you fidget like this. Y/N, deary, roll off him, can you?"

At that you reach the boiling point.

How. Dare. They.

You resigned to the fact that you would have to wait with the rings and bells, and a ridiculous wedding dress, and even with those blasted sappy walks under the April moon.

Now that the chances are you won't live to enjoy any of above, and you've been such a good patient girl, don't you deserve a moment of privacy?

"That's it!" you bawl angrily, "You're the most tactless, brazen, insensitive bunch of boors I've ever met! I'd rather be eaten than spend another moment listening to this rubbish! Hey, you! Yes, you, Tom...whatever!"

The Troll rears his ugly mug and stumps your way in heavy steps.

* * *

You're sulking by the fire. Your ribs are still not fine. In some moments you wonder if any of your organs will ever return to their places again.

It could have been worse, really. You could be crunching on Tom's teeth right now.

Bombur is feeling guilty, so every quarter of an hour there's a sandwich pushed under your nose, which you politely decline. You don't feel like you can stomach a crumb. Not after he cannonballed into your back, flattening you against Kili and successfully knocking you out of reality.

That Troll was a damn good pitcher.

You still have no idea how you managed to escape the danger, but Gandalf is here, so it apparently has something to do with him.

The rest of the Company either avoid looking your way, or act like thoughtful uncles, doing with smiles and pats on the back rather than words.

"Hey," Kili takes a seat by your side, putting his coat around your shoulders, "I'm sorry you were hurt."

You utter an indefinite sound.

His fingers are warm against your cheek as he reaches out for you, but you just frown, shifting away from his touch.

"May I kiss you?"

"Absolutely not," you shake your head. With a corner of your eye you see his face settle into the cutest hangdog look anyone could pull.

"Why?!" pleads he. "Are you still angry? Look, I know they've been terrible, but it's not my-"

"You've got huge parasites," you interrupt him sternly.

His mouth hangs open for a moment. Then he blows out a huge breath of relief.

"Never you worry, lady," says he with a wink, before pulling you into his arms despite your weak resistance, "I swear you can tame any beast alive."