#kili reader insert

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

Fíli placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not the only one who is fond of her, brother,” he said. “Uncle feels responsible. He’s the one who sent her to scout in the first place.”

“Yes, but I should’ve gone-... Wait, what do you mean by that? I’m- I’m not…!” Kíli stuttered, trying to deny anything Fíli was implying, but horribly failing.

His brother just smiled at him, a playful twinkle in his eyes Kíli hadn’t seen in a while. 

The Company trudged through the forest, trying to follow your trail but finding it hard to do so. You were a good scout, so it seemed. They had more trouble tracking your movements than they had anticipated, making their progress rather slow. A lot slower than Kíli had wanted. 

He tried to calm himself by repeating over and over again that you knew how to fight, you knew how to defend yourself, you knew how to remain unseen.

You probably fell asleep in your hiding place or something, that was a very Y/N thing to do after all. 

After an hour and still no sign of you, the silence among them became deafening. Eyes and ears were peeled for any sign of their missing scout, each of the dwarves’ worry growing with every step they took.

Kíli constantly had to fight the urge to call out your name. He didn’t know if they were going in the right direction, and what if you went back to camp only to find them gone?

Brown leaves crunched beneath their steps, a branch broke with a dry crack when he stepped on it, making him flinch.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked behind him, Fíli squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

“Stop worrying nadadith, we’ll find her,” he whispered. Kíli nodded in return, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. (little brother, brother who is younger) 

Their surroundings had changed, seeming to match the looming thoughts in his mind. It was no longer the calm, inviting forest it was this morning, almost comforting with the bright colours and the typical woodsy smell.

Instead there were thin trees which clung to mossy rocks, the footing made slippery by the dampness underfoot. 

“There’s evidence of a struggle here,” Nori whispered, pointing towards the ground. “Orcs, most likely.”

They looked up at looming pieces of stone that seemed to have been piled by a careless giant, left as a testament to long-gone fun. The warm colours were gone, replaced with greys, dark greens and black. This whole place felt wrong. 

Kíli’s head shot up when the snapping of branches could be heard in the distance, immediately scanning his surroundings. The others followed his example.  

“Hide,” Thorin ordered.

They hid behind trees and rocks, waiting for what or whoever would emerge from the bushes. 

Kíli would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when two Orcs came out from the trees, he’d hoped to see you instead. Unharmed and happy to see him- them. Happy to see them; he shook his head, ignoring the questioning look his brother gave him.

He notched an arrow, ready to release it as soon as Thorin would give him the signal. But to his surprise Thorin signaled him to lower his bow, instead sending Bifur and Nori to take care of it.

The two of them had the Orcs thrown to the ground in seconds, ready to deliver the fatal blow, but before they could a different growl caught their attention.

The dwarves gasped at the sight that greeted them when they looked up.

Azog the Defiler stood on top of the piled rocks, his white warg at his side.

“What a lovely surprise….” he grinned.  

Thorin growled at him, his hand clenched tightly around Orchrist’s hilt.

They could easily defeat him, he thought, seeing as there were more of them. No matter how badly Thorin wanted to slice his head off his shoulders, something stopped him from giving the order to charge. The pale Orc was too confident for his liking, he was hiding something.

Azog smirked. “Lost someone? A female perhaps?”

The members of the company shared a look, if Azog knew you were on your own…

Thorin seemed to think the exact same thing.

“Not that we’re aware of,” he answered. 

Everyone could feel the tension rising, Nori and Bifur tightened their hold on the captured Orcs.

Azog raised his good hand and two other Orcs appeared next to him, holding something in between them. Or rather someone…

A few hushed curses could be heard among the company when they recognized their missing scout.

Thorin instinctively stepped forward when he saw it was you and Fíli and Dwalin had to grab Kíli to keep him from charging Azog by himself.

“So she doesn’t look familiar?” Azog taunted, smirking when he saw the reaction of the dwarves. He knew you were important to them, especially to the line of Durin according to their reaction and the prospect of hurting them through you made him feel triumphant. He was going to enjoy every minute of this. 

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kíli yelled angrily, fighting against his brother and Dwalin. They struggled to keep him in line, he threw all his weight into it, begging them to let him go.

Azog only laughed menacingly in return, his cackle echoing off the rocks.

The company had no choice but to watch how they dragged you to the edge of the stonewall.

Your hands and feet were bound with a thick rope and your clothes had fresh tears in them. You had suffered a head wound, a trail of dried blood sticking to your forehead and cheek. No matter how much it hurt Kíli to see you like this, he was relieved to see you were awake and well enough to try and fight the Orcs. 

“Y/N! Are you alright mimûna?”

“Does it LOOK like I’m alright to you?!” you yelled back, while you tried to fight the two Orcs who were holding you. 

Kíli sighed in relief. You being snappy meant you were in fact more than okay. Probably pissed off because you got caught, and that reminded him of something. 

“I hate to tell you this but… I TOLD YOU SO!” 

The others stared at him. Was this seriously the time to start teasing her?

It seemed like you were thinking the exact same thing.

“This is seriously not the time or place for this, Kíli!!” 

There was enough fire left in you and Kíli’s comment only fueled it, and you tried to push your weight against the Orc on your right in an attempt to wriggle free.

Their grip on your arms only tightened, and you gave up when they roughly forced you on your knees. 

“Enough!” Azog growled and slapped you across the cheek.

The dwarves growled in response, their hands hovering over their weapons, itching to do something.

You gasped for air after Azog’s assault, your head was pounding but you tried to push through the pain. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of your suffering. 

“The female in exchange for Thorin Oakenshield!” Azog snarled, and he gestured to you.

One of the orcs dragged your body to Azog, who in turn grabbed you by your neck and lifted you over the edge of the stonewall. 

“Tick tock,” Azog challenged, watching you struggle and fight for air.

“Uncle!” Kíli shouted in alarm. 

“What do you want us to do?” Fíli whisper-shouted at Thorin, waiting for instructions. He had a few ideas of his own, but he knew it wasn’t his call to make. 

Thorin looked at Azog, then at you. Azog’s grip on your neck tightened, cutting off almost all of your air supply. There wasn’t much time left...

The rock wall wasn’t easy to climb and he didn’t dare think about what Azog would do to you as soon as they would try. 

He was about to surrender himself, if only to buy more time, when he noticed something on Azog’s cheek. A fresh cut, unmistakingly your work.

He discreetly signaled in Iglishmêk to the others to get ready and to Kíli to ‘take the shot’. 

Kíli looked at him questioningly, not understanding why his uncle would let him take the lead in saving you. Surely Dwalin or Fíli would be a better choice?

“I see she put up quite the fight,” Thorin began, gesturing towards Azog’s face. “You’re getting slower!”

Kíli suddenly understood what his uncle had meant, he was trying to distract the Orc so he could have a clear shot! 

As soon as Azog’s attention shifted to Thorin, he grabbed his bow and notched an arrow in one fluent move.

He only needed a second to perfect his aim before he released the arrow, hitting Azog in the shoulder of his good arm, the one he was holding you with.

The Orc had to take a step back because of the impact and growled angrily, but it wasn’t enough. On the contrary, Azog only got angrier and his warg tried to bite your legs.

But Kíli wasn’t done yet, he already had a second arrow ready, he screamed Fíli’s name and let the arrow fly towards its goal.

Years of training together made sure Kíli didn’t have to specify what he wanted from his brother. Fíli understood immediately.

As soon as he heard his name, he grabbed the arm of the closest dwarf - which happened to be Bombur - and sprinted towards the rockwall. 

Kíli’s second arrow hit Azog in the right side of his neck.

That was enough to loosen his grip on you and collapse. You felt yourself plummeting to the ground, with no time to brace yourself for the impact, too scared to even think about screaming. 

Bombur and Fíli were just in time, leaping the last few metres so they could break your fall. 

In the meantime Nori and Bifur took quick care of disposing the Orcs they were holding, and Kíli had a third arrow ready.

But it wasn’t necessary, the Orcs who held you before were helping Azog on his warg and hurried out of sight. 

“Should we follow them?” Dwalin asked Thorin, Grasper and Keeper still in his hands.

Thorin shook his head. “We’ll get our chance soon enough, our day will come.”

Dwalin grumbled something about unfinished business but Thorin decided to ignore him. 

His eyes fell on his youngest nephew. He still stood frozen in the exact same spot, bow tense, arrow notched. But his eyes were no longer fixed on the top of the rockwall, where Azog and his spawns had disappeared a few moments ago, but a few metres lower. 

“Good work, Kíli,” he spoke, while he placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m proud of you. You handled it well.”

In any other situation these words would be enough to make Kíli ecstatic, but now he barely gave any response. 

Thorin lowered Kíli’s arm and that seemed to break his trance. 

“It’s okay, you saved her,” he reassured him. “She’s alright.”

Kíli’s eyes flickered from his uncle’s face back towards the scene at the bottom of the rockwall. Fíli cut your ropes, while Bombur supported your torso. You were alive. You were okay. He saved you. 

“I did,” he realized. “I saved her...”

The arrow and his bow went back where they belonged, in the quiver and strapped to his back. He was itching to join you, to see with his own eyes that you were okay. 

Thorin smiled, knowing that look all too well.

“Go,” he said, and he nodded towards you, Bombur and Fíli.

Thorin didn’t have to tell him twice, and he hurried in your direction. 

He fell on his knees beside you, and looked at his brother.

“How is she?”

You swapped his arm. “I’m right here, you know,” you croaked with a hoarse voice. “And I’m fine!”

“Your voice!” he gasped, hands flying to your face in a reflex to cup your cheeks but he caught himself just in time. This wasn’t a dream of his, it was reality.

“It’s because she was strangled, it won’t last,” Fíli explained. 

Kíli growled.

It startled you for a second, not because you had never seen him so angry, but of what that low rumble did to you. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Perfect timing, Y/N, you groaned.

“Oín will take care of it,” his brother tried to reassure you both, misinterpreting your frustrated groan. 

“I’ll go and fetch him,” Bombur said before he got up and ran over to the other members of the company. 

Honestly, Kíli would never get used to the speed their corpulent companion could achieve with his tiny legs.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, regaining his attention. You tried to get up, both Fíli and Kíli immediately got up to help you.

“What? Why?”

“I’m sorry I got caught,” you muttered softly, eyes focused on the ground.

Kíli pulled you in a big hug, squeezing all the air out of your lungs. 

“Of all the things to apologize for,” he laughed, squeezing just a little harder before he let go. “It was not like you did it on purpose, mimûna. At least, I hope you didn’t!” 

Oín and Thorin joined you, the seasoned healer wasted no time in checking you for any hidden injuries. 

“Let’s take a look, shall we lass?”

Oín prodded and poked at your body, mentally listing the wounds that needed immediate treatment and the ones that could wait until they set up camp that night. 

“So how did you find me?” you squeaked. 

“Lass, I strongly advise you to try and keep the talking to a minimum for a few days. Your voice and throat needs time to recover,” Oín reprimanded you, his gentle experienced hands softly pressing the skin on your throat and neck.  

“Ha!” Kíli laughed, “Impossible!”

“Kíli,” Thorin warned. 

“Glad to see you’re back to your normal self, nadadith,” Fíli teased him. 

You looked towards the youngest Durin, who suddenly thought the ground was extremely interesting. 

“What do you mean?” you asked him, ignoring Oín’s stern look. The healer had turned his attention to your head, trying to see if you needed stitches for your head wound. 

“He was beside himself with worry, this one,” Fíli smiled, ruffling Kíli’s hair. Kíli shoved him, but couldn’t help return the smile.

Oín reached a particularly sensitive spot on your head and you winced slightly.

Kíli’s eyes widened and a frown appeared. His hands instinctively flew towards you again before he kept them helplessly at his side.

“You were worried about me?” you croaked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood a little. You wanted to wipe that frown off his face and get rid of all the sudden serious tension. Just like the night before, you needed cheeky carefree Kíli. You desperately needed your Kíli.

His cheeks turned fiery red, and he anxiously rubbed his neck while trying to come up with an excuse. 

“We all were,” Thorin came to his rescue.

Kíli threw him a grateful look.

“But Kíli most of all,” he added with the slightest hint of a smile, before he went back to the others. Thorin didn’t think he could endure another day with the mutual pining, so if he had to give a little nudge… why not. 

“Is that true?”

“I- I mean… Yes-no, I was worried of course, but…” Kíli stammered, looking at his brother for help.

“He would’ve dragged Azog off the rockwall by himself if we’d let him,” Fíli mentioned. 

You looked towards Kíli, who was shooting daggers at his brother.

“That would’ve been very stupid, Kíli!”

“But still heroic, right?”

“Oh yes, of course, very heroic… and stupid!”

“Lass, your voice,” Oín tried again, but he was silenced by Kíli. 

“I still saved you, didn’t I?”

Oín and Fíli slowly retreated back to the company, leaving the two to their bantering. You didn’t have any life threatening injuries and you would be in good hands with Kíli for now. 

“They’ll sort it out themselves,” Fíli said knowingly. 

“Yes you did,” you said, your voice almost completely gone by now. “You saved me...”

Kíli placed his hands on your upper arms.

“That makes me the hero,” he stated. 

“My hero,” you corrected. His eyes widened. Was he hearing you correctly?

“Your hero?”

You nodded. 

“But you’ve never… I didn’t think- Oh now I’m actually relieved I was the one to save you!”

“Me too. Which reminds me, I still haven’t thanked you for being my hero.”

Kíli took a step closer, licking his lips.

“What did you have in mind?” The corner of his lip twitched before it turned into a smirk. 

“Well maybe we could-”

“Oh, for the love of Mahal, just kiss already! We have places to be!” Dwalin yelled.

Kíli laughed and brought his hands to your cheeks. 

“Let’s not disappoint our audience, shall we?” he grinned before he softly pressed his lips on yours, ignoring the cheers and hollering from the Company. 

His wingmen.

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing​