![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Lampshade (The Hobbit fanfiction)
Fandom: The Hobbit (Jackson Films)
Characters: Tauriel/Kili
Rating/Warnings: T for sexual situations, same BotFA AU as To Catch a Falling Star (only Kili survives)
Word Count: 827
Summary: Tauriel reflects as Kili sleeps. And the impossible happens.
Dwarves can be stubbornly determined creatures, but on the third night of being wed, Kíli finally gives in to the need for sleep, too sated to resist going from doze to that deeper rest his body needs to recover from its exertions.
Tauriel dimples as she curls against him, pressing a kiss to his cheek after she senses the change in his breathing, heart full and deliciously weary from those same exertions. She knows every inch of him as well as herself now and they’ve loved in every position they could fit themselves together in. Even now her blood heats as she recalls the joy they’ve shared over the past three days, and she resists the impulse to wake him for more pleasure.
It’s considered bad luck for newlywed dwarves to leave their chambers for at least twenty-four hours, and they have already spent three days spending their pent up passion. It feels indecently decadent to be ensconced in only each other and focused entirely on pleasure, spending most of the time undressed while trays of food and wine are delivered discreetly to the entrance room.
“Any dwarf needs a bit of time and space to learn how to best please his wife,” Kili explains.
He doesn’t mention the usual expectations there, but he doesn’t have to. Mortals focus far more on the production of offspring than Elves or Maiar, the strength of their races lying in their fecundity rather than immortality and magic.
And even children know that different species do not breed, no matter how similar creatures may be in size and shape. Men and Elves have shared bloodlines, but of all the free peoples Dwarves and Elves are possibly the most dissimilar.
So she tries to steel herself against clutching at something as ephemeral as wish. If only it were so easy to turn love to life. It’s enough just to share their lives and bodies. And she’s blissfully, joyously content.
But she can’t help cherishing a small flicker of hope anyway.
So she dreams as she looks up into the night and rests beside her husband. This was one of the surprises he’d built into their chambers: a roof that opens up to the heavens so she can enjoy the stars while he sleeps.
It’s a perfectly lovely way to rest, and such a thoughtful way to bridge the gap between their differing needs.
She’s so enthralled by the beauty of the starlight that she almost doesn’t notice.
But the spark igniting inside her is something no Elf can miss, and her eyes widen in stunned wonder.
She doesn’t even dare to hope for a moment, gasping and fighting the tears that spring into her eyes unbidden as she clutches a hand to her stomach reflexively.
But the light doesn’t fade or dissipate, and she chokes as she speaks a simple spell to confirm, then a healer’s spell for a closer, deeper look.
And starts to weep in earnest.
She’s sorry to disturb his much needed rest, but a moment this important must be shared so she shakes Kíli gently but insistently. “Kíli. Kíli.”
He surfaces slowly from deep slumber, smelling her tears before his eyes crack open.
“…Tauriel?”
He turns to her, concern breaking through the bleary pull of sleep. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, laughing a little. “Kíli,” she says, pulling his hand to her belly, still too emotional to speak the words.
He’s confused for only a moment before he jerks abruptly awake, meeting her eyes and smiling with growing excitement.
“But how can you…? We made a…?”
She laughs and nods. “A child. I scarcely dared to believe it until I used a healer’s spell for a closer look. But he has already grown a little.”
Kíli laughs and kisses her soundly, tears also springing to his eyes. “Óin told us it was impossible. That we were just too different. I’m not sure which of us my mother wanted to strangle more.”
She arches a brow and nods. “I shared his opinion. Dwarf bodies are made of something very different from Elven ones. And I don’t understand how it is possible but it matters not. This child is welcomed wholeheartedly. Oh Kíli, I had hardly dared to hope,” she whispers, tucking her head into his shoulder.
“Mahal has truly blessed us. This is surely a sign, a gift.”
He doesn’t mention to her the arrangements that have already been made in expectation—Dain’s son Thorin Stonehelm had made the journey from the Iron Hills for the wedding, but also to stay to learn how to rule Erebor. This wholly unexpected child changes things.
But he hardly cares for the political problems that may come.
A child. Their child.
He squeezes her. “Can we name him Fíli?”
She squeezes him back and laughs. “It seems we are of the same mind.”
He grins, almost happy enough to burst. “Aren’t you glad you married me after all?”
She laughs and kisses him.
For she is.
no subject
no subject