Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

Insider Information

Though the Morgul stuff was cleared from his leg, Kíli still slept through much of the following day. He woke a few times, briefly, to eat and use the necessary, but would soon fall back to sleep. By the second day he was awake more than he was asleep, though he still felt far weaker than he would care to admit.

It was weird, when he was awake. The house was tense, neither elf nor dwarf willing to risk being seen in the daylight. It was cramped, and two separate camps seemed to be developing. The elves and Bard against the Dwarves. Bofur and Bard's girls, however, seemed to occupy a neutral space, and would pass between both "camps" with ease.

Kíli was fond of the littlest one—Tilda. She seemed the least bothered by events, and was often laughing at Bofur. She had sat with him early in the afternoon, showing him her rag doll and telling him stories of the town. Kíli listened—children were precious, and Tilda was no exception.

Fíli was over-attentive. (He drew the line at being helped to the toilet—he was a grown dwarf, dammit, he could manage!). Óin seemed to ignore his input, seemed to ignore Kíli completely, paying attention solely to his wound. Kill wasn't sure what had thrown Óin into such a tizzy, but he could guess.

Fíli confirmed it that night for him, handing him yet another damn bowl of broth. "It was quite the declaration. Those two saps were meant for each other."

"So, you've come 'round to the idea, then?" Kíli asked, and ignored the way his heart stuttered and fluttered in his chest. Must be all this broth. How was he supposed to get better if he had no real meat?

Fíli hummed, and ran an assessing hand through Kíli's hair. "I fixed his braids," he said. Kill choked on his soup.

"What, really?" He asked. He grinned. "Good for you, Fíli. You've grown."

Fíli rolled his eyes. "Well, it seemed like I had better, since I'd soon be surrounded." He looked significantly at Kíli, who shrugged. Why deny it? His heart had recognized its One in Tauriel—whether she recognized him in return or not. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't. She was a creature of starlight, and he a dwarf of the mountains. (But if Legolas could love Gimli...) said a voice in his head. Fíli rolled his eyes again. "Stop that," he said. "You look ridiculous when you go all mooney."

"I'm not all mooney!" Kíli said, and resumed eating his soup. "I'm hungry," he said between bites. "When can I have solid food?"

"When I say you can, and not a moment sooner!" Óin called from across the room. Fíli and Kíli shared a look. What Óin could and couldn't hear...

Fíli took Kíli's now empty bowl. "I'll see if I can't snag you some bread from dinner."

Dinner brought more soup, but this time it had chunks of fish and potato, and a small hunk of bread. It was the best thing Kíli had ever tasted.

He drowsed.

When he woke again, Bofur was asleep in a chair by the fire, hand protectively around little Tilda, as she slept curled into him. Bain sat on his other side, slumped against him. Sigrid wasn't to be seen, nor were Bard, Legolas, or Óin. Kíli wondered just how late it was.

"You're awake," Tauriel said, and Kíli turned to look. She was seated nearby, mostly in shadow from the low firelight.

"I am," he said. She looked at him, studying his face as if she would need to commit it to memory. What did she see when she looked at him? Did she see a youth, like his mother and his Uncle? Or did she see him as he saw himself—a dwarf just entering his prime? Did she see, still, an invalid mortal, breakable and quick to die? "I can not believe you're here," he said.

She looked startled, then a small, genuine smile curved her lip. "Neither can I," she said. "The events that lead to this all seem quite impossible."

"Aye, they do," Kíli said. "Still, I cannot be sad that they happened, or I would never have met you, Tauriel."