Of Love & War ｡ Kili Durin

15 - THUNDEROUS BATTLE

They walked at a leisurely pace toward mountains ahead, where bleak clouds rolled in. Ygritte knew that by the time they came to the mountains, that they would have to deal with the oncoming storm head on. But she had faced many a storm before ─ how could this one be any different?

She had spoken with Bilbo earlier. The Hobbit had taught her a new ballad he picked up one day at the market in the Shire, and even taught her a few of its verses before Bofur came to Bilbo's side, offering the Hobbit a sip of water. After that, Bofur and Bilbo made conversation of their own, leaving Ygritte to walk ahead of them in a comfortable silence. Until she spotted Kili Durin, that is.

The young dwarf's head was bent downward as he walked, which was odd since he makes conversation with his brother or stares off into the distance ahead of them as they'd walk. He was staring at something ─ but what?

Her curiosity getting the best of her, the woman came to his side, matching his pace. She peered down at his hand and found a small black stone as smooth as a flower petal laying within his grasp. There was an inscription of some sort, though she couldn't identify what it said as he kept smoothing his thumb over its surface.

Ygritte smiled down at him and gestured toward the stone with her hand. "It's beautiful," she remarked. "Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift from my mother," Kili replied. "On the day I left home with my brother, she gave this to me. She made me promise to return to her; I intend to uphold such promise." He glanced up at Ygritte and smirked at the curious gleam that shone within her eyes, resembling to that of a star. He reached across the space between them and picked up her hand, lying the stone within her palm.

Ygritte smoothed her thumb over the surface and smiled at the markings inscribed on the stone.

"Innikh de," he said. "It means ─ "

"Come back to me."

Kili smiled and his eyebrows lifted, impressed that she could understand the ancient dialect. An elf called Daeron, the minstrel of king Thingol of Doriath long ago had forged the language, but it has many branches now; one of which the Dwarves had developed into their own form of tongue.

"You know this branch of Cirth?"

As Ygritte placed the stone back into his palm, her skin lingering against his own and causing their eyes to meet, her lips curved into a small smirk. "A woman such as myself has to learn to speak such languages if she wishes to venture far and wide."

The dwarf bowed his head, hiding the smile and the faint blush of his cheeks at the linger of her touch that left his palm scorching.

"If you do not mind my asking, what is she like? Your mother?" Ygritte asked. She bit her lip, wondering if she had stepped over the line, but Kili didn't seem bothered by the subject. In fact, he welcomed it with a smile.

"Her name is Diś," Kili began. "I resemble her and my uncle. But Thorin ─ he says I am most like my mother." The dwarf smiled as he thought of the woman who gave him life. "She has wit and can make you laugh as easily as one breathes air. Her cooking ─ you would like it. Best I've ever tasted. And she always smiles. Even on days when one should feel sad, she will smile."

"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Ygritte said.

"She is," he said as his eyes lifted to meet her stare. "I dare say she would be fond of you."

Ygritte felt her cheeks grow hot at his words. "Would she now?"

"Aye, very much."

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