So Comes Snow After Fire

29.i Welcome the Nights

The sky had turned the deep blue of Tauriel's wedding dress by the time Kíli followed her over the moonlit mountainside. They had barely spoken since leaving the mountain halls, but her hand was warm and its pressure firm as she drew him with her, and Kíli needed no words to understand that she was as eager—and yes, nervous—as he. Her skin almost hummed, not with any true vibration, but with a sort of inner brilliance that he could feel, just as he could sense the change in a piece of silver or steel heated by the furnace. He wondered if he felt any different to her, as well.

Tauriel slowed as they reached a soft crest of ground. Beyond was a shallow hollow, its broad floor twinkling with lights, as if several dozen stars had fallen from the sky to rest here. And in the midst of these candles or lanterns—Kíli supposed that was what they must be—a bed was laid out on the ground, pale sheets stuffed with something soft and pinned down carefully about the edges.

"It's perfect," Kíli said, looking to Tauriel. She smiled softly. "Far better than any other bed I've had outdoors. You wouldn't believe some of the places we slept on the quest."

"I take it Bard's tabletop was not the worst?"

"When I had you shining down on me? Hardly."

He drew her the rest of the way down into the hollow, picking his way carefully between the little lamps upon the grass. At the bottom, he halted, feeling something softer than grass beneath his feet. Looking down, he saw the ground was carpeted in white petals, their soft rose scent rising as he crushed them.

"I feel I shouldn't walk on these; not with—" And he tugged off his boots, first one and then the other. Against his bare toes, the petals were soft and pleasantly cool.

"Here; let me," he said to Tauriel, who stooped over her own boots. He directed her to a low stone, where she sat and he knelt before her.

Kíli had to push aside her skirts to reach her ankles, and then she helped, drawing back layers of jeweled silk and airy gauze so that her boots were visible to their tops. He found the bootlace at her calf and carefully unthreaded it from all the little silver loops, going slowly lest he fumble: his hands were nearly shaking. When all was loose, he lifted her foot free, and Tauriel gave a little sigh as he clasped her calf.

He glanced up and gave her what he was sure was a very foolish grin before proceeding to her other boot. When that, too, was off, he left his hands closed about her ankle and drew them slowly upwards; they were steady now that he was touching her. He brushed her skirts back off her knees—Did her shiver as his fingers grazed her mean that she was ticklish?—and pressed one hand along the outer line of her thigh until his thumb met her hip.

"Kíli," she whispered and leaned close to kiss him.

He freed himself from her skirts and stood between her knees and kissed her in return. Tauriel drew her fingers over his face and through his hair, and he heard the soft clink as his circlet was knocked loose and struck one of the lamps on the ground beside them. He drew a caress from her hips up to her ribs and breasts, and she murmured something indistinct and happy, a response he took as encouragement to find the lacing of her bodice and work it free. It took him some time to make any progress—there were far too many layers to this gown—but finally he was rewarded by the touch of warm skin in place of cool silks.

Yet as his fingers skimmed her, she gasped and then caught his wrist, her grip so hard that he suddenly feared he had somehow wronged her. Had he been too eager? He knew Tauriel had always been thoughtful, even reserved, in acting on her desire for him, but tonight he had been sure she was as ready as he. Perhaps he still should have waited for her permission to undress her, he realized, both inexplicably hurt and angry with himself.