Focus. Breathe. Move. Breathe.

Kíliel dodged, the edge of the sword tracing past her. She could hear the sound of hair being cut sharply, so close had the edge been to her face. She stopped for a moment to notice the lock that was suddenly a lot shorter than the rest of her red, wild hair.

Her breath was heavy and rapid, but she had no time for a break. Tauriel came at her again. Kíliel managed to raise her sword fast enough to block, and the shrill sound of metal against metal rang throughout the training hall. It mixed with the sound of Kíli's echoing laugh. He observed them from the edge of the sparring ring, entertained by watching his wife teach their daughter the way of the sword.

«You have to be alert.» Tauriel backed away a few steps, holding Kíliel's gaze hard, weighing her every move, her expression playful and dangerous. «Always hold the opponent's eyes, eyes cannot lie.»

Kíliel did not share her mother's enthusiasm at this activity. Her arm vibrated of exhaustion and tears of sweat rolled down her face, making it difficult for her to see. She dried her face with her sleeve and wiggled to loosen her tunic from her sticky back. She couldn't have felt further from the graceful sword-dancer her mother tried to make of her.

«Keep at it, dear, your mother's not half done with you yet!» Kíli called encouragingly from the sideline, and Kíliel exhaled with a disheartening groan.

She tightened her stomach as she was taught, wheezing air through her teeth in a quick breath, and heaved herself forward with a roar, intending to catch her mother off guard. It failed. Tauriel stepped sideways and Kíliel went sprawling in the dirt. Her mouth and eyes were filled with sand. She exhaled and remained lieng on the ground. Her heart beat heavily, causing her whole body to vibrate against the ground. She breathed hard and inhaled sand with each breath, but it felt wonderful just lying there. Her entire body ached, and she could not bear the thought of another minute of this torture.

Kíli roared with laughter as Tauriel stepped up to their daughter. Kíliel turned her head and looked at her mother's boots as she stopped beside her, tapping her foot disapprovingly.

«You would not be so tired had you done the exercises I taught you.» Tauriel clicked her tongue and smiled. Kíliel could swear it was meant as gloating.

«How come we do this every week, and yet I get no better?» Kíliel muttered into the sand and took the hand Tauriel offered her. She stood and sputtered to get the sand out of her mouth.

«I'd say the reason for that is that we do not do this every week. It's been weeks since last we were here together. Remember, last week you had that very important council meeting, and the week before it was some report you had due?» Tauriel pursed her lips as she grabbed her daughter's face to brush sand off of her.

«Nana!» Kíliel groaned and pushed her hands away. Tauriel threw out her hands and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Kíliel continued to brush off her tunic and hair. «It's not my fault. The council is burying me in boring documents that need reading and signing, and half the time I don't understand what it's even about.»

«And yet it's convenient that it intervenes with our training, and yet not our lessons. How might that be?» Tauriel raised a brow and pursed her lips as she looked down on her daughter. «What Queen will you be if you cannot fight for your people?»

«I can fight,» Kíliel muttered under her breath, «just not like a woodland Elf. I am to be Queen of the Dwarves, am I not?»

«Of course. I simply wish you to be able to defend yourself… and take it seriously.» Tauriel exhaled and embraced Kíliel from behind, hugging her tightly.

«I do, mother,» Kíliel giggled and tried to worm her way out of her mother's arms.

Kíliel stepped over to the weapon rack, placing her sword on its slot and grabbing the longest and heaviest of the battle-axes, the one who had once belonged to her grandfather. She had watched Thorin wield it a hundred times, and he had taught her a thing or two before he died.

Lifting the axe in front of her, her hands placed far enough apart on the handle to balance the weight, her stance straight, wide legged and steady. Kíliel smirked, eyeing her mother. «See?»

As Tauriel raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed unimpressed, Kíliel walked over to a straw-man. Her steps were wary, her body crouched as if in combat, carefully studying her opponent. Her shoulders rolled backward, preparing to strike.

«The lass has the technique down,» Kíli smirked, owing himself a sharp, sideway glance from his wife.

As Kíliel came close to the straw-man, she took a step sideways and around preparing the arch of motion needed to swing the ax, just like Thorin had taught. Roaring she swung the ax around herself and sliced off the target's head in one fluid motion. She continued the arch around herself another time and embedded the head of the ax in the belly of the straw-man with a heavy thud. The blade stuck deep in the wood of the pole on which the target was fastened. The wood creaked and broke as Kíliel ripped the ax free with a strength exertion.

Kíli whistled impressed, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber. Breathing, Kíliel turned back to her parents and made a little bow. Grinning, she spoke: «See, mother, I do know how to protect myself.»

Tauriel was silent, eyeing her daughter with an exasperation that almost resembled sadness.

«Even if it is not the way of elves, it does not mean it is invalid,» Kíliel stated, as she stepped back to the rack and placed the ax back in its slot. «I cannot help that I am more dwarf than elf, nana.»

Finally, Tauriel sighed, and walked to her daughter, taking her face in her hands. «I forget that you are not entirely mine, but it does not mean you are more dwarf than elf, my love.» She kissed her forehead, and let go as Kíliel walked towards her father.

«Nevertheless,» Tauriel continued in her usually strict voice, «I want us to continue the training e-v-e-r-y week. It does no harm to learn other techniques than that of the dwarves.»

«Fine,» Kíliel exhaled and rubbed her neck as she stepped up to her father.

Kíli grinned and took her hand. «Thorin would be proud of you today, nâtha.»

«You think so?» Kíliel smiled brightly.

«I know so. And while he always loved the elven side of you as much as the dwarven-» Kíli grinned as Tauriel eyed him exasperatedly, «-he would be proud to see you show such dwarven spirit in your fighting.»

«But it does not really matter, does it? I'll never need to fight. If we come to war, I would be locked indoors while all the men rode out to die for our Country. I'd be useless.» Kíliel kicked the ground, dust spraying out in front of her.

«I don't know if that's true,» Kíli shook his head softly as he wheeled after her to the entrance of the hall. Tauriel walked up behind them.

«You know it is, father. I am a woman, and dwarves are overly protective of their women. Am I wrong?» Kíliel eyed him sideways, her lips pressed to a thin line as she thought of it. It was the reason she had not been allowed to leave the Mountain. Not even to visit Dale. Had it not been for Thekk she would never have seen another place than the inside of the Mountain, and yet she had not snuck out since.

Tauriel put her hands on Kíli's shoulders, her expression hard. «No, you are not,» Kíli muttered as he caressed his beard. «But it does not mean that you do not need to know how to protect yourself.»

«Whatever,» Kíliel rolled her eyes. She could not discuss it again.

Her parents shared a glance, and Kíliel walked ahead of them, towards the bathing halls.

—

After a long and soothing bath, her body felt more relaxed, but her mind was still agitated. She had too many things to worry about, and ever more crept into her thoughts.

Most prominent was her fear for Thekk. It was like an insect gnawing its way at the back of her head, loud and distracting. She could barely get through a thought before he pushed his way back. At least it meant that she had not lost her love for him, quite the contrary. All she could think of was the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands and the smell of his hair. It was over a year since he had left, and she still yearned for him.

She knew it was wrong to go off on her parents like she had, but it was her way now. Ever since Thekk had left, any glimmer of happiness was darkened for the thought of him leaving her behind. She felt betrayed, abandoned, lonely, and so she would fight with her parents when she was too happy to remember her misery. It was childish, but it was all she could do not to give up.

Secondly, there was the issue of the invitations to the elves. Kíliel had dared only send out one, to lord Elrond. On many occasions, Fíli had talked of how - relatively - accepting he had been of their company during the Quest for Erebor. Therefore she thought perhaps he would be most lenient towards her being and position, and maybe help her sway the other elven realms to open negotiation of peace as well. He had yet to reply, and it was a well 6 months since she had sent the letter, but she had not given up hope yet.

The post was a combined stress-factor for her at that time. She always hoped for words of Thekk, of which she had only had one letter in all the time he had been gone. Therefore, every time anyone knocked on her door or called after her in the corridors, she was hopeful it was a letter that had come to her, yet it never was.

After her bath, Kíliel returned to her chambers for her warmest clothes and coat, one of Thorin's coats with a thick, blue hood lined with fur. She then walked to the Entrance Hall and climbed the stairs to the vanguard.

Ever since Thekk's departure, she could only be calmed by sitting at the far right side, where she had a view of the entire valley, and yet was not in the way of the patrolling guards. There was a nook where she could squeeze in between the wall and the rock. There she kept her warmth far longer than if she stood on the middle of the watch-post, where the wind howled over the railing and into the Mountain. She could sit in her nook comfortably and keep watch to see if anyone arrived, a messenger with post, or even if Thekk himself came over the hill. She wanted to be the first to greet him, and if he would hear that she had been sitting there all this time waiting for him, it would not be so bad for her promise to him either.

It was early January the year of TA 2994, the middle of the winter when it's coldest in the North, and the snow whipped across the open plain before the entrance to Erebor. In her shelter, she was spared the worst wind and could enjoy the twirling snowflakes that made their way to the other side of the vanguard.

An inch thick layer of snow had gathered at the stone forming the railing. Kíliel made small rings in the snow with her fingers, the snow biting her fingertips as she watched it melt to reveal the black stone in swirling designs. Only a second passed before new snow covered the marks of her fingers until they were all gone.

It was an eerie notion. It was like the snow erased everything, covered all the land in a thick, white blanket that erased all trace of life until the spring. How many dead dwarves were then uncovered, attacked by orcs in the night?

A chill ran down her back and she leaned back into her nook, tucked the cape tighter around her head, like that would stop her thoughts from rampaging.

What if Thekk was dead somewhere in the wilderness? What if snow had erased him from the face of the earth, until spring would discover a rotten and unrecognisable dwarf, then to be eaten by some animal or other?

Kíliel stared out into the darkening world. The sun was on its way down, and a guard came to light the watch-post torches. The one closest to her whizzed every time the big snowflakes came too close to the tempting fire. With so big snowflakes Thekk would be gone in a mere minute, choked by the whiteness. Gone.

«Shut up, Kíliel,» she muttered frustrated at her thoughts and shook herself. A drop of melted snow made its way down her back, leaving a chill that made her hair stand on her arms. Such grim thoughts helped no one, least of all Thekk. She had to send out all her love and support, only that way would Mahal know to bring him home safe.

The horn rang for dinner.

The sound bellowed through the Mountain, and it sounded outside like a roar of a dying animal being suffocated by the snow. Kíliel could only think of the war, how real it had become to her since Thekk had left. She knew he was out there somewhere fighting every day to protect a kingdom which lay hundreds of miles away. Homeless and lonely. It was what she felt when he was not here, and she imagined it must be how he felt.

She looked over the Mountain, imagining how it would look surrounded by thousands and thousands of enemies. It would happen one day, not too long from now, as the Councilmen always said.

«Last time Erebor was not prepared for battle. This time we will make such preparations that none will reach the Mountain and live, not even the foulest of beasts of Morgoth.» Dwalin had talked long about what needed to be done for the coming battle. Already the Mountain was being stocked with dried meats and fish to last the people a lifetime, and safe halls and tunnels were dug to have an escape route for the women and children if need be. Where they before had forged everyday articles, big machines of war were devised; catapults; spiked wagons to be pulled by goats; huge crossbows for the gate of Erebor and Dale, more effective and deadly than ever before. And weapons. So much weapons. The storages were already overflowing with lances, swords, battle-axes and bows, but it was apparently not enough.

Kíliel could not comprehend what size an army had to be to have use of such amounts of weapons. Even with the many calculations of the Council, considering how many dwarves could be mustered from all the realms, Kíliel could not comprehend it. She had not even thought there were that many dwarves left in the world. It awed her to think of it. And to think of all the deaths to come.

She shook her head. It only brought her more stress to think of it. For now, she'd leave it to the Council. After all, she did believe what she'd told her father earlier. When the war did come to Erebor she would have nothing to do with the fighting. She knew that much for certain. She'd be huddled away with the other women of the Mountain, awaiting a destiny relying on the fighting of the men.

These were her usual thoughts, especially as she sat here, looking over the Mountain. Dark and hopeless thoughts, and yet she felt more at ease here than in her chamber. The cold was creeping into her hands and feet, but she did not want to leave yet. Not when she was still able to make out the outline of the Mountain and the hills down there. That meant she could also see if a person approached.

There was movement up ahead at the vanguard suddenly, but it was not a guard. Someone approached her with his hood tucked down over his face, but as he came closer Kíliel saw the bowls of stew in his hands, and she smiled as she recognised Aín.

«Permission to approach? I can bribe you with hot stew,» Aín chuckled and handed her one of the bowls without waiting for her permission. He looked at her from under the hood, his blue eyes almost illuminating his face, so bright were they.

«Thank you,» Kíliel spoke softly and blew on the stew before taking a mouthful. The hot food revived her, and she could feel the warmth return slowly, while her thoughts settled. Food was perhaps the only thing to cheer Kíliel when she was properly anxious. Sometimes she wanted to laugh at how much of a dwarf she truly was.

Aín exhaled and shook himself. «I do not understand how you can stay up here all night. It's so cold even Mahal shake in his forge.» It was a normal expression, but Kíliel was curious to hear him say it. He rarely ever called on Mahal, and it was one of the things she appreciated about him. Every other dwarf relied on Mahal too much in their beliefs, and even though Kíliel thought to him on occasion, she did not mention his name aloud. She was scared because it could mean something if she did, change something somehow.

«It's not so bad when you sit here,» Kíliel said softly, her body suddenly relaxed by the stew, and her mind going warm. «It's sheltered for the wind, and the Mountain is slightly warm from the forges. Feel.»

Kíliel took his hand and placed it on the stone on which she was sitting and leaning against. His hand was cold. She looked at Aín and smiled. «See?»

«Yes, you're right. Let me in,» he smirked, his smile calm and his eyes soft but wild. Before she understood, he pushed her in against the stone and sat down beside her. She was pressed between the stone and him, his body hard and warm against her. She had never been so close to him before, and she could feel his sweet scent. He blocked the light, so she could not see his face. But she saw his eyes, and she was for a moment lost in their coldness, the blue as blue as the Mountain covered in snow in the twilight. And she felt her heart flutter.

«You're right,» he said, his voice low and teasing, and lowered his hood. «It is a good shelter against the wind.»

«Yes,» Kíliel mouthed and turned to look over the Mountain. She couldn't keep his gaze. It was intense and scared her in a way she could not explain. She took another mouthful of stew.

«I found it when I said goodbye to Thekk,» she spoke, searching for something to talk about. She could not stand the silence between them. It was hinting, edging her closer to him. She knew what it was. She knew she lusted for him, to taste his lips, to feel his skin against her fingers. She had known it for some time, and yet it surprised her as she thought it. It was entirely different than her lust for Thekk. It was an aggressive and dangerous lust, whereas her lust for Thekk was soft and kind. She did not understand it, and she did not know what would happen if she was to kiss him, which was why she kept her eyes on the horizon.

Her heart beat in her ears so loud she could barely think, and she tried to breathe slowly, to calm herself. But she liked the feel of him against her, had liked to touch his hand earlier, to have him so close and feel his words in her ear as he spoke to her, his voice seducing and calming, but at the same time whipping up a storm inside of her.

He had said something, but she hadn't heard. She gazed at him, at his full lips and dangerous eyes.

«Are you alright, Kíliel?» He asked her and laid his arm over her shoulder as if trying to keep her warm. She was too warm, that was the problem, but she smiled and shook her head as if nothing was wrong.

«Yes, I'm sorry, my thoughts wandered. They do that a lot when I sit here,» she looked over the Mountain again, thought of Thekk and tried to push her desire away, the desire growing in her stomach to kiss the dwarf that sat beside her now.

«It does seem a good place to sit and think, no one to disturb you, only the Mountain to talk to,» he mused, his smile thoughtful too as he looked out over the valley.

Kíliel took the moment to study him, his eyes, his black, long eyelashes, his long and strong nose, his black stubbles and hair. He was beautiful, but that wasn't the reason for her desire. If only she could put her finger on it…

Then he turned back to her and she pretended she'd not been staring at him. «But I asked you if you've heard anything from him? After the first letter he sent regarding the status at Moria, I mean?» His eyes held her, and they had an edge to them. Kíliel sighed and bit her lip.

«No,» she muttered disheartened, «I haven't heard anything since then, and that was almost a year ago.» She tucked her knees under her chin and gazed into the night. It had gotten too dark to see anything now, but she did not want to move, not when Aín was sitting warm and close beside her.

A flash of Fíli's face suddenly entered her mind, of the day he had told her of Hera and his love for her which she had given up to be with someone else. Kíliel understood her at that moment. It was terrible waiting for someone, not knowing if they would ever come back. How was the woman to sit around and dream of one day having her man come back to her when he could as well be lying in a ditch somewhere with an arrow in his chest?

It was not fair.

«It is strange,» Aín said, his face wrought in worry, worry for her. «I want you to know that I am not going anywhere, Kíliel. I will always stay by your side, to be your friend and support as long as you should need me.»

Surprised, Kíliel's vision was suddenly blurred by violent tears welling out of her eyes. She sobbed, though she knew not what for, and Aín hugged her closer to him, both his arms surrounding her.

«I will always be right here.» His face was close to hers as he whispered calm words in her ear. His breath was warm on her neck, and a chill of lust washed through her. She was not thinking straight. She was angry at Thekk, frustrated, lonely. Would it be so bad? It was only a kiss…

She slowly turned her head, met his impossibly blue eyes. Her heart beat so violently it felt as if she vibrated when she lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek. Aín looked at her, his expression genuinely surprised, for a moment it felt like it was the only emotion she had ever seen on his face. And he was beautiful. His skin was warm and soft, the stubbles of his beard rough against her hand. Kíliel blinked a few times.

Aín raised his hand and dried tears from her cheek. His hand was cold but gentle against her skin. She held his gaze for a moment longer before he surprised her and leaned against her, his lips finding hers in a kiss.

The bowls crashed to the stone floor, shattering.

Kíliel didn't care. She welcomed him, and kissed him back, letting her desire to taste him rule her mind. His lips were soft, and yet demanding, taking what he desired. It was so much different from her kiss with Thekk and again she could not explain it, but she enjoyed it nevertheless.

Their lips parted and their tongues continued the game, tasting and exploring. His taste was sweeter also, as was his scent, and she felt intoxicated, as if tasting him muddled her brain like too much wine.

The intensity grew with every second as they kissed. He pressed her against the stone as they devoured each other, laying himself on top of him, and she enjoyed the weight of him. His hands were rough as they felt along her body underneath her coat. Kíliel held him close to her with a firm hand at his neck, the other on his back, feeling his muscular body move underneath his coat. The desire grew between her legs. Aín whispered her name, and then kissed her cheek, throat, and chest as he ripped open her coat so the buttons were torn off. Kíliel gasped into the cold air, her hand grasping his hair as he cupped her breast with one hand through only the thin fabric of her tunic and her backside with the other. It felt wild, dangerous, freeing, like finally she was not the princess. She was just a woman kissing a man she had wanted to kiss. What was so bad about that?

Aín kissed and then bit her neck, and Kíliel giggled: «Oh, Thekk!»

It was like a shock went through her, clearing her mind, showing her what she was doing. Her eyes shot open, and she froze. Aín stopped as well. When he looked at her, lying halfway over her, there was a darkness in his gaze she had never seen before.

«I think we should stop,» she whispered, still holding his gaze as he stared at her and caressed her own neck, where she still felt his bite marks.

A moment passed and something washed over Aín's face, an almost invisible change, and then his expression was only sad and disappointed. «Yes,» he said as he moved away from her and straightened his coat and hair. He lowered his gaze.

«Forgive me, Princess, I should not have… I should have contained myself,» he stammered and held the floor with his eyes. «Will you please forgive me?»

Kíliel said nothing.

It was her fault, and she felt her cheeks burn with shame as she cursed herself, screamed at herself inside her head. How could she have let it happen, let it go so far? And yet… she had enjoyed it, she would have let it go further even, if only her subconsciousness had not reminded her of who it was she really loved. She cursed herself, feeling tears again fill her eyes.

«There's nothing to forgive,» Kíliel muttered and hugged her legs as she sat back into the nook. She forced the tears back. «I am at fault, I insinuated and… Please, will you just leave me?»

Aín looked at her for a quick moment, and he hesitated. She could see a question forming in his head, and a flash of darkness returned to his eyes. Then he nodded and bowed for her. He turned and started to leave, but then he turned back to her, holding an envelope in his hand.

«This came for you. That was why I came here…» He laid it on the stone in front of her and took his leave, his steps swift as he walked away.

Kíliel let out a sob. She hugged her knees tight rocked back and forth, feeling her body shake with shame and regret, and ever the desire lingered in her fingertips. She cried for a long time before she even thought to check who the letter was from. Her vision blurred with tears, she took the envelope. It bore a seal but she could not make out what is was in the dark. So she dried her tears and hurried back to her chambers.

She called for a bath to be brought to her, and she ripped the envelope open when she was finally alone in her chamber.

She read the first line, then dropped the letter of sheer shock.

It was from Elrond.

I just want to start this by saying that I do hope you won't be mad at Kíliel for kissing Aín. And ALSO, it is very important to me to state that it was fully concented. She did not feel violated by his kiss (though us who read this may know that his intentions are less than knightly, and he is messing with her head a lot) she has desired to kiss him for a long time, as you might have understood by the chapter. This may seem like a strange desire, but keep in mind that Kíliel is about 16-17 years old mentally, and she has the emotional mayhem of every teenager, and exploration is in my opinion a very big part of being a teenager (god knows I loved to kiss boys at that age!).

I also had a very interesting thought when writing this; why is it that women are expected to stay home when men go to war? Being alone and scared, I completely understand the women who find other men. Like Hera. The chapter with Fíli's story was perhaps more important than I inteded it to be, reflecting Kíliel's own situation perfectly. Because men die at war, and waiting for years to hear news must be the worst fate any woman can endure, and thus finding comfort in other men seem to me a very natural response, which is also why it makes a hella lot sense that dwarven women can find new love, while men tend not to. (lets not forget the litle point that there are a lot more dwarven men than women, so for the sake of the race' reproduction (which we all know is bad enough as it is) I think that women has to find new men to love when they get abandoned/their men die at war.) If you have any thoughts on this, please don't be shy, I love to discuss theories.

(By this I mean no disrespect to any who serve their countries in war, men or women, this is simply from a womans and a historical view-point, and my personal thoughts on the subject!)

(This might also be a bit of ground-work for the future chapters... No spoilers!)

A bit overdue, I know, and I feel even more bad as I had this chapter done sometime early December but was flood by inspiration for my original novel so this got left a bit behind. So I hope you enjoy now! Please let me know what you think, as always, I need to know you guys enjoy this or am I wasting my time completely? :/

Love, Iggy