So Comes Snow After Fire

1.ii

Kíli squinted up at her through the blinding wind. She seemed taller than he remembered. Glancing down to her feet, he saw that she stood above the snow, not sunken down in it as he did.

"You came," he said. "I wasn't sure you would, what with this storm. But I had to try..."

"I knew you'd worry if I didn't. Besides," Tauriel glanced up towards the head of the valley. "I thought I might shelter in the old tower on Ravenhill. No-one would notice me there in this storm."

"About that..." Kíli began slowly. "You shouldn't be out here in this weather. It's bad; I haven't seen a snow like this for years, not since the Fell Winter when I was a lad. And we were safely indoors for that one."

Tauriel smiled, gently amused. "You forget I have seen far more snows than you, young Kíli."

He shrugged, embarrassed but not apologetic. "Yes, well, that doesn't mean I can't tell this one is especially dangerous." He tugged off a glove and reached for her hand.

"Your hands are cold," Kíli said as his fingers found hers within the long knitted cuffs that she wore. He regarded her with brows drawn.

She shook her head slightly. "I assure you, I am not troubled. We elves are less concerned by the needs of the body than are mortals."

Kíli did not believe her; he might be no elf, but his kind were hardy in their own way, and his toes were already beginning to ache in this cold. He was sure it could be no different for her.

"Maybe," he said gently, and then flashed her a grin. "But that doesn't mean you can hibernate like a bear. Indeed, I think all the bears have already found far cozier places to sleep by now than you're going to get. Besides, Ravenhill is so...ominous." He still didn't like going up there; the place reminded him of how close he'd come to losing the people he cared about most: his uncle, his brother, his cousin Dwalin, and Tauriel, whatever she was to him. He'd not had time to think of their danger till the battle was ended, and then he'd been almost sick for several long moments when he realized how he'd nearly lost them all at one sweep. They'd been vastly outnumbered, and it was really only good luck, or fate, that they'd prevailed until the eagles had come.

"Come with me into Erebor. We have more than enough room for you," he insisted.

"Kíli, you are very kind," she said, stooping so that her face was even with his. "But I cannot cause you trouble."

So that's what held her back. He was both delighted at her concern and impatient to overcome it.

"You won't." He smiled, acknowledging his own wild optimism. "Well, maybe you're right. But that doesn't matter to me!" He pressed her hand briefly. "Besides," he added almost argumentatively, "We owe it to you. I'm still the king's nephew, you know, and while being third in line doesn't make me the most impressive figure, you saved my life! At the very least, that merits a show of hospitality."

Tauriel's expression softened somewhat, and Kíli thought he could see hints of both weariness and relief in the fine lines about her eyes.

"You'll get a lot better to eat with us," he said, sensing his victory. "I could smell the wassail when I passed by the kitchens on my way out. And I think there is a roast boar for tonight."

He lips curved up in a smile. "You are most persuasive, my dear dwarf. I will come."

"Good." He shoved his glove back on, and then wrapped her hand in his and led her back up the hill towards his brother.