Sulûn (The Falling) [Tolkien Dwarf FanFic - Third Age]

Origins

Although other races seem to have difficulty telling male from female Dwarves, on the rare occasion they catch a glimpse of a dwarrowdam, dwarves ourselves have no such difficulty. There are subtle differences in our builds, a dwarrowdam being slightly less robust than a male, with rounder hips, but our beards covered most easily distinguishing  characteristics. Our voices had not the range of the other races, women did not have voices like singing birds, but there were differences in degree, which the dwarven race is particularly attuned to. My eyes snapped open in panic at the sound of the obviously male voice.

And I was immediately lost in the darkest brown eyes, almost black in the dim light of the pools. They were set into the face of the most handsome dwarf I had ever seen. He brow was strong, his nose distinguished, not overly large. His beard and hair were also unplaited, his beard like jet fanning out in the water, his hair clung in ebony waves to his shoulders. Oh, his shoulders, broad and muscular, just peeking over the water. His mouth twitched up in a slight smile, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He leaned back onto the ledge of the pool, lifting his sculpted arms from the water and splaying them along the carved lip of stone. He was positively rippling with muscle under his thick, tanned skin. Steam curled off his skin as it cooled, and small droplets of water snaked down his arms between the bulges of muscle. His skin was surprisingly smooth for a male over his coming of age. At the age of 40, most males began combat training -- a rather bloody affair -- but he had no scars marring his perfect flesh. I had never been so acutely aware of the minutiae of someone's body. I had never seen so much of another's body.

I was staring.

He knew he had me trapped. Why else would his eyes have that mischievous twinkle? I could not speak nor stand without outing myself as a lass. Surely, he knew what I was and relished in my discomfort. Everyone else in Khazad-dum certainly knows I am female, I thought bitterly. My beard kept my modesty in the water, of which I was thankful. The longer the silence dragged on between us the harder it was to compel myself to speak and end the moment. My discomfort dissolved into something less distinct, a hunger I could not quite fathom and that I hoped was not betrayed on my face. I was lost in those dark eyes, the twinkle lost and now unreadable, the weight of his stare bearing down upon me.

If he had not guessed my gender before, I imagine he had now due to my blatant staring. How long had I been lost drinking in his features? Minutes? Hours? I could not tell. He cleared his throat in what I took as a prompt to speak. I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. It was a little late to play the part of the flustered maiden, but I knew that I must. My dignity required it.

"Oh! Sir! I believe you have mistakenly gotten into the wrong end of the pool!" I clutched my beard close to my body in an effort to appear more affronted by his intrusion than I actually was, "This is most improper! Positively scandalous! If word travelled of myself bathing, alone, with a member of the opposite sex, it would be most damaging to my reputation." In my own heart these words rang hollow, but I had no family to fall back upon if my honor came into question and I could not risk the social isolation that would result from being seen as anything but proper lady.

Midway through the frantic, uncontrollable objections which came flying from my lips, I noticed the shock register on this strange, handsome dwarf's face. Perhaps he somehow hadn't noticed? He then reached over to me and gently placed his calloused fingers against my lips, cutting my thoughts off abuptly. He snatched his hand away as if he had touched fire. "I am most sorry, My Lady! Please accept my humble apologies. I never meant to endanger your honor." He made to stand up, "I will leave you to your soak. I just wanted to be closer..." His last sentence trailed off and I couldn't quite decipher it. I found it strange that he had referred to me as "Lady", I was accustomed to being referred to as "lass" by the other dwarves. My hand drifted up to my lips as I recalled his rough touch. His skin was so perfect, I wonder what craft he partook in to roughen only his hands.

I quickly turned my head away, averting my gaze from his rock hard body as he slowly began rising from the water. "No! Please don't inconvenience yourself," I stammered, flushing to the roots of my golden hair, "I have been soaking long enough. If you would excuse me?" I looked at him pointedly and clutched my beard closer to my chest.

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course," he muttered, momentarily flummoxed. He took the hint and turned his face away. Was that a flush rising to his cheek or just the heat from the water? No matter, I had no time to ponder such quandries. I pressed my beard to my body and scrambled out of the water, retreiving my towel by the head of the steps and wrapping myself quickly. I felt a fool at my awkward rush from the scene, but my stomach fluttered with nerves. I needed to leave, and leave quickly,

"Good day, sir!" I called over my shoulder as I shuffled away, dripping water on the polished stone floor.

"Wait!" he called after me, halting my steps, "I do not know your name." His dark eyes burned into mine, even from this distance I felt it -- that unexplained heat of his gaze. I turned and took a single step back in his direction, being pulled by something larger than my own will. The fluttering of my stomach became a dozen moths within my throat trying to find freedom. I could not breathe; I could not think.

"I am called Eilíf."

"Eilíf? That is no name for a Lady of such beauty," he tilted his head back, regarding me shrewdly down the length of his straight nose, "Please do me this courtesy and share with me your proper name."

How dare he doubt my own name? The moths found their freedom in the flame of the fury suddenly risen within my breast. I turned on my heel and ran away from the pool, past the vanity holding all of my belongings, up the stairs in naught but a towel. My vision blurred with unshed tears. I was not quite sure why I ran, my emotions were thick and overwhelming, blurred and indiscernible. I felt a weight on my chest and could not catch my breath. As I ran, it hitched in my throat and my lungs burned.

I saw no one on my desperate escape from the bathing pools. The wet slap of my bare feet against the hard, stone floor echoed along in front of me, heralding my arrival to the bare rock of my forgotten hall. Mechanically, I ran to my chambers, so deep in thought I didn't realize I had arrived until I felt the rough wood of my door give way underneath my hands. I burst into my room, slamming the door behind me and collapsing upon the bed.

Sobs wracked my body, muffled by the blankets which were steadily getting damp as I lay upon them. My body felt overheated though the water cooled on my skin. I could not go back there to retrieve my clothing. It was lost to me. I could not risk his penetrating gaze. I knew not if I would ever seen him again. I both yearned for it and dreaded it just the same. I did not even ask his name. How could I have not learned the name of this dwarf who so captivated me? I was so affronted by his denial of my given name. Who was he to strip me of what little heritage onto which I held? Had I been wrong or was it that I had been wronged? My head was utter turmoil.

A flash of blue in the dying light of my hearth caught my eye. I reached over to my desk and grasped a large bead. It was the bead that would end my family braid if I ever discovered what to plait. I had carved in it Durin's Crown, for my mother who had died beside Kheled-zarâm, within which the starry crown of Durin lies. My mother, who I could not remember. I sobbed even harder. I needed her guidance in this matter. I could learn many things from books, but not the wisdom of matters of the heart. 

I closed my fist tight around the bead desperate for the comforting embrace of my mother, and fell asleep atop my blankets, wrapped still in the wet towel.