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Fíli sat up as straight he could manage and looked at the breakfast-table before him. There was a variety of food spread across it—from fruit to cakes to some kind of pudding with flecks of green on the top—but he could not bring himself to even consider eating any of it. In fact, he felt like he may never eat anything again; though he was mightily thirsty.
He couldn't recall most of the last evening past a certain point, though he had flashes of memory — walking with Sigrid, lying on the ground and staring up at the stars… falling down the stairs. That last one explained the pain in his back, but the rest of his various aches were a bit more of a mystery.
What he remembered best, though, was waking up outside in the early morning light. He had been sitting on the ground in the courtyard, with his back to a pedestal and Sigrid sleeping next to him with her arm draped over his shoulder. Despite his blurry vision and fuzzy mind, he had stared at her for a long while, until she at last opened her own eyes and stretched. She smiled softly at him then, but neither of them spoke until a pair of strong Iron Hills Dwarves had come along and helped Fíli to his feet.
The following stumble to the Great House felt like it had taken ages, but with Sigrid's arm around his back, he had at last made it inside; though he had only then gotten as far as the parlor before he couldn't bring his feet to carry him any further. And so he had sat down on the upholstered bench by the door, then flopped over and closed his eyes. He opened them for a moment a few minutes later and saw that Sigrid had herself settled in on a large arm chair on the other side of the room — then he'd fallen back to sleep almost instantly.
The morning was growing old by the time they were awakened by Tauriel, who was as bright-eyed and sprightly as ever; though Kíli, who was shuffling along by her side, was wobbly and squinting against the daylight. Somehow, the ladies managed to convince the Dwarves that hot baths would aid them in their waking; and because neither Fíli nor Kíli had the wits to argue that point, they dutifully shuffled off to the bathing-room.
Still, the warm bath did not actually do much to clear Fíli's mind, and he nearly fell asleep in the water a few times; and in fact, after a while, he heard Kíli softly snoring in his own tub on the other side of the room. Fíli had then stumbled out of his tub and shook his brother, trying to rouse him; but Kíli just mumbled and tried to roll over, and so Fíli gave up the effort and let the water out of the tub so that his brother would not slip under in his sleep, then covered him with a towel to keep out the cold air.
Fíli managed somehow to dress himself before he wandered into the dining-room, though his hair was dripping and his eyes were still half-closed. He'd then sat down hard in the chair across from Sigrid and rested his head on his folded arms, willing away the smell of food now all around him. Tauriel was also at the table, and when she asked of him where Kíli might be, he told her what had happened. The Elf had then let out a laugh and excused herself to attempt to awaken Kíli, leaving Fíli and Sigrid alone in the dining room.
After a few minutes of squirming in his seat, Fíli lifted his head groggily and drank down a glass of water that was just within reach, then he looked to where Sigrid sat on the other side of the table. She had at some point changed her clothing and fixed her braid, most likely while he had been dozing in the tub, and he was astounded how she could be so alert and lovely after the night that had just passed — then he reminded himself that she hadn't actually had anything to drink for the entirety of the evening.
"That was, um…" he began after a long silent while. "That was a nice celebration last night."
Sigrid pressed her lips together in a tight smile. "It was, yes," she said. "Although I doubt you remember all of it."
He scratched the back of his neck. "I remember it. Some of it. Pieces of it."
"What pieces?"
Fíli held out his hand and started counting on his fingers. "I remember ale," he said, "and beer and mead and…" His voice trailed off as he tapped on his fourth finger, then he lowered his hand. "There was Elvish wine, wasn't there?"
She nodded. "How is your head?"
"Throbbing, thank you," he said, rubbing his temple.
"And your brow?"
"My what?" he asked, moving his touch to his forehead. His fingers brushed against a lump there and he pulled his hand quickly away, then looked down at it, almost expecting to see blood on his fingertips. "Did I get into a fight?"
"Only with the ground," said Sigrid, laughing softly. "And a flight of stairs."
Fíli raised his eyebrows; but even that simple action pained him and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I remember the stairs."
Sigrid sighed, and though it felt as if Fíli's head might tumble off his shoulders, he looked up at her again. She was poking her fork mindlessly into some eggs on the plate in front of her, but when she noticed he was staring, the smile returned quickly to her face — although this time, it looked almost forced.
"Did I do anything foolish last night?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
"That depends on what you consider foolish," she said with a small shrug.
"Did I try to dance? I've been told that I am not very good at it when I've been drinking."
The soft and real smile returned to Sigrid's lips. "No," she said. "You did ask me to dance at one point, but I didn't feel much like it, so you sat it out as well."
"Oh…" He narrowed his eyes, then sat back and looked up at the ceiling. Oh… that's right…
He remembered now. The night had been young, and he had still been mostly sober… and when the band had struck up a slow and easy song, he had thought it would be the perfect chance to be alone with her, away from the raucous crowd. But it had really rather been the wrong thing to do, he now realized, and he was actually quite glad that she had declined.
It would have been so difficult with her being so close… so difficult not to say something that would have made her uncomfortable around him. Things weren't the same, after all, as when they'd first become friends, back before the rebuilding and the restoration and the royal duties. It felt like a lifetime ago, and back then it was so easy to joke with her and chat idly. That much, at least, hadn't changed. He always spoke so freely around her. Too freely, perhaps.
He hadn't even noticed, really, when Sigrid had begun to occupy all of his thoughts. It was almost as if he had been standing under the clouds, without noticing that the rain was falling until he was already soaked to the skin. There had been no conscious realization on his part when it had begun… just a sudden awareness that it was there. And now, every thought he had shifted to her, every conversation he struck up with someone made him wish she could join in, every new artifact that was brought to light in the excavations made him wonder what she would think about it.
It was truly a new experience for him, and when Kíli had noticed how he brightened when Sigrid's name was mentioned, he suggested that Fíli might just be growing fond of her in a way that was not strictly friendship. In his heart, Fíli couldn't deny that his brother was right, though he had at first pretended not to know what he had been talking about. That is, until one day several months ago, when Sigrid was set to come to Erebor for studies and Fíli had been unable to sleep the night before in anticipation of her arrival. And so he had gone to Kíli then to talk it over… to confess to someone how he felt about the future princess of Dale.
His brother had been understanding about it, of course; though he did on occasion gently rib at Fíli about it in private. To his credit, Kíli said nothing to anyone, and Fíli himself had not shown Sigrid a bit of his affection beyond friendliness, for fear that she would turn and run. No, he liked having her near him too much to do that. If she didn't return his feelings, then she would be uncomfortable being around him knowing how he felt. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, he wanted her to be happy… and she really did seem to be happy with their relationship as it was.
Still, a few ales into the celebration last evening, he had felt his courage rise — or, perhaps, it had been his good sense slipping away. In either case, he was glad now that she had not chosen to dance with him, as he did not know if he could have held it in. He would surely have said something about how he really felt, and she would probably now be looking at him like…
He blinked hard and turned his eyes again to Sigrid, who had a crooked smile on her face and a glint in her tired eyes.
…Like that.
Fíli moaned low and shook his head, then clutched at it as it started to ache even more. "What did…" he began, then he let a long breath out through his teeth and rose to his feet. "I'm… I have to… go. To my room."
With that said, he gave her a small bow, then turned on his heel and made his way unsteadily out of the dining room and into the hall. He did not look to see if she was watching him go, but stumbled on into his guest chamber and flopped down on his chest on the bed.
No no no no… he thought, throwing a pillow over his head. This is all wrong…
He hadn't wanted to do this… he hadn't wanted to say anything to her about how he felt. At least not yet, and certainly not when he couldn't remember what he had said to her.
Sigrid didn't seem disappointed, at least; so maybe he'd just mentioned that he enjoyed her company, and that he wished she could come to Erebor more often. That was friendly, anyway — and it would have made sense for him to tell her, as he'd repeated it over and over again in his thoughts whenever the temptation to tell her more had come up. Yes, that must have been it. Surely, she was just happy with knowing that he wanted to spend time with her.
He threw the pillow to the floor and sat up, wincing against the hammering in his head as he looked towards the open door. It would probably be best if he went to Sigrid now and talked it over. If he'd said something more than that last night, then he could blame it on the wine. Surely she would accept that. People say things they don't intend to all the time when they've been drinking. It was likely that even if he had told her how he felt, she wouldn't have believed him.
I have to talk to her, he thought, clutching at the quilt below him. And… what? Ask her what I said? Lie to her today by telling her I was lying last night?
A groan escaped his lips and he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes; then he flopped back onto the mattress.
He had forgotten that he was sitting crosswise, and his head and shoulders came unexpectedly off the bed, then his body slid down after and he landed with a muted thud on the tiled floor. He hadn't, at least, hit his already-throbbing head; but he was in no mood to try and right himself just yet, and so he groaned again and draped his forearm over his eyes as he tried to recall any of what he had said to her.
The stairs — that was the last thing he remembered before waking. Or was it? They had been walking back to the Great House… he was sure of that much. And somewhere along the line, they… stopped and laid down on the ground to look up at the sky?
No, that wasn't right.
"Fíli?"
The sound of his brother's voice surprised him, and he jumped and drew his arm off of his face to see Kíli lying on his stomach on the bed, looking down at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Yes?" asked Fíli, letting out a long breath.
"Are you alright?"
"No."
Kíli grunted. "Me, neither."
Fíli struggled as he tried to sit up, and Kíli reached a hand down. Somehow or other, with his brother's help Fíli managed to make it back up onto the bed; then he laid on his back once more and stared up at the ceiling as Kíli curled up into a ball beside him.
"Did you have any of that wine that Tauriel brought last night?" asked Fíli, shifting his head to look at his brother.
Kíli shrugged awkwardly. "I'm not sure. But I think I hurt myself, anyway. I mean, last night. I think I ran into a wall or something."
"I fell down the stairs," said Fíli, rubbing the lump on his brow. "And I'm pretty sure I landed on my face."
"At least you got back to the Great House. I think Tauriel ended up carrying me."
A laugh found its way to Fíli's lips, then he grimaced when the throbbing in his head grew worse. "I didn't actually make it all the way, myself. Sigrid and I fell asleep in the courtyard."
"Dragging her down to your level, are you?" Kíli chuckled.
Fíli cuffed his brother on the arm; then he sighed and rubbed his head again. "I don't know… I think I may have said something to her that I shouldn't have."
"What do you mean?" asked Kíli. "Did you insult her or something?" He sounded almost horrified.
"No! No… I think I… might have told her that I… how much I like her."
There was a pause before Kíli spoke up. "How is that something you shouldn't have said?" he asked. "Don't you think she should know how you feel?"
"It's just that…" said Fíli. "She's happy with the way things already are between us."
"How do you know?"
Fíli rolled onto his side, focusing on his brother once more. "What?"
"How do you know she wouldn't rather there be something… well, something different between you?" asked Kíli. "Did you ask her? Did she say?"
"No, but she seems happy." Fíli cleared his throat. "But that's beside the point. The thing is, I don't know what I said to her last night, but I must have said something."
"Ah…"
"So, what am I supposed to do, then?"
"Really? You're asking me for advice on this? You never ask for my advice."
"That doesn't stop you from giving it to me. And besides, aren't you always getting poetic around Tauriel."
"Well, that's hardly…"
"Something about stars, right?" Fíli went on, grinning.
"Yes, alright," said Kíli, his cheeks reddening slightly under his whiskers. "Do you really want my advice?"
"I can't wait to hear it."
"Go and tell Sigrid now."
"Tell her what now?"
"Tell her what you think you told her last night."
Fíli shook his head. "I told you, I don't remember what I…" he began; then he shut his mouth tight. "But what good is it going to do, though?"
The younger Dwarf placed both palms over his face and shook his head, letting out a loud groan. "I swear, Fíli, if you keep trying to make me think right now…"
"Well, I wouldn't want to make you do anything you're not used to," joked Fíli, sitting up on the edge of the bed; then a sting grew between his eyes, and he squeezed them shut.
This was a mistake… even considering telling Sigrid how he felt was a mistake. But then, there was at least a chance that he had already told her last night. And how fair would that be, really, if she knew what he said and he didn't?
"Fine, then," he said, as much to himself as to his brother; then he let out a resigned breath and rose to his feet, shuffling towards the door. After a moment, Kíli grunted, and Fíli looked back as his brother stretched himself out on the mattress. "Don't get too comfortable."
"I'm just going to borrow your bed for a while," said Kíli, sliding his hands under his head and shutting his eyes. "Tell me how it goes."
Fíli grinned at his brother, then made his way out of the room and shut the door behind him before heading slowly down the hall, trying to decide on his words all the while — though by the time he got to the dining-room, he still had no idea of what he would say. He stopped just before he reached the open door, and even as the temptation to turn back around rose, he stepped inside.
His shoulders were stiffened and his head was spinning and his legs felt wobbly; and when he saw that Sigrid was no longer at the table, he relaxed and let out a long breath. Then he drew another one in, and the smell of food again began to make his stomach churn.
But though Sigrid was not there, Tilda was; and when she saw him in the doorway, she beckoned him over.
"Good morning!" the seventeen-year-old said between eager bites of porridge.
Fíli gave her a frail grin and stepped to the table. "Morning…"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't look so good. A bit too much celebrating last night?"
"A bit, yes," said Fíli as he rubbed the back of his neck. "How did your night go?"
Tilda hummed as she took a bite of some kind of green melon. "Busy! I had no idea Dwarf children could be such a handful!"
"Ran you ragged, did they?"
"Very," she said. "Are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?"
Fíli looked at the food that was still spread across the table and wrinkled his nose. "Not really, no," he said. "Thank you, anyway. I was just…"
Tilda stopped chewing and stared at him; and when he did not go on after a moment, she spoke up. "Are you looking for Sigrid?" she asked with a slight smile.
"Yes, actually. I need to… speak with her about something."
"I think she was headed for the library."
Fíli nodded and turned towards the hall; then he stopped and looked at Tilda once more. "Did she seem… I mean, was she alright?"
"By alright, you mean… what?"
"She wasn't upset, was she?" Fíli clarified.
Tilda shrugged. "Why would she be upset?" she asked; then a look of suspicion flashed in her eyes. "You didn't do anything stupid last night, did you?"
Fíli ran his fingers through his damp hair. "To be honest, I'm not sure."
"Just you be warned," said Tilda sternly, gripping her fork like a weapon, "if you do upset her, you're going to answer to me."
He smiled at her tone, but he knew full well that if anyone would make good on such a threat, it would be Tilda; and so to sooth her worries a bit, he walked to her and lowered himself to a knee, placing his hand on the arm of her chair.
"I promise you," he said, looking her in the eye, "I would never do anything to hurt Sigrid." He cleared his throat and turned his eyes aside. "I just… I…" He rested his head against the chair arm, grimacing when the lump on his brow made contact; then he looked up at her again. "The thing is, I think… I think I told her something I didn't mean to."
Tilda sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, then tilted her head curiously at the Dwarf; but before she could say anything, Fíli saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He and Tilda both looked towards the door to the hall, where Sigrid was now leaning against the jamb.
"You didn't mean what you said?" she asked.
Fíli rose suddenly to his feet, accidentally hitting his shoulder against the table and sending several glasses tumbling over. Tilda pushed her chair back and stood, watching on as Fíli tried to compose himself.
"Yes" he said, setting one of the glasses back up. "I mean, no! I mean… I didn't mean to say…" He fumbled with another glass and it slipped out of his hand, falling into the pudding. "I didn't mean to tell you… yet! I mean, if I said… what I think I said…?"
He stood the pudding-covered tumbler up and looked at Sigrid again. She had her palm over her mouth, but he could tell that she was smiling.
"Believe it or not, you were more articulate last night," she said as she lowered her hand.
The room fell silent as Fíli and Sigrid stared at one another; and Tilda cleared her throat after what must have been a long and uncomfortable moment.
"Well," she said, running her hands over her dress, as if to straighten it out. "I guess breakfast is over. I'm going to go… somewhere else."
She patted Fíli on the shoulder as she made her way past him, then she kissed her sister on the cheek as she moved into the hall. When her footsteps faded into the distance, Sigrid tilted her chin down and peered at Fíli past her eyelashes.
"About last night—" she began.
Fíli held his hands up. "No!" he said. "I mean… don't tell me what I said. I don't want to know."
She pursed her lips, then turned her eyes aside; and at once Fíli realized how that must have sounded.
"I… I didn't mean it like that…"
"How did you mean it, then?" she asked, looking at him again with knitted brows.
"I mean… I don't want to know what I said last night, because I want to try saying it now. The right way… maybe?"
A soft smile rose to her lips. "I think you said it just fine last night."
His eyes widened and his jaw went slack, and the corner of his mouth turned up into what he was sure was a rather crooked and awkward grin. "And were you… happy with what I said to you?"
She nodded and turned, stepping away from the door and into the hallway. "Very," she said as he fell into step beside her. "But, well… are you certain that you do not want me to tell you what you said to me? I told you last night, after all, that I would remind you of it today, if you did not remember."
They stepped together into the parlor, then made their way to the bench where Fíli had earlier fallen asleep and sat down beside one another.
"No," he told her, squinting against the sunlight that was shining in through the window. "If I was able to say it when my senses were drowned in wine, then I should be able to say it now."
But despite that claim, Fíli really was having trouble finding his words.
Why was this so hard for him? He'd never had a problem speaking with anyone about anything. He could sling insults, keep up irrelevant banter, plan battle strategies at length, mediate disputes, discuss mining methods for hours on end, describe to the finest detail every weapon he had ever wielded; so why was this so challenging?
Why was it so difficult to tell Sigrid that she was always in his thoughts, to tell her how he planned for weeks ahead of time what they would do every time she came to the Mountain, to tell her that he wished they could be together? Did it really have to take getting drunk to get the truth out of him, when it came to this young lady — when it came to this princess?
He let out a quick breath. Someday, he thought. He always told himself that someday he would let her know how he felt about her; but someday just kept on getting further and further away.
Then again, he reminded himself, someday might well have been last night.
Fíli took hold of Sigrid's hand and squeezed it gently. "I don't know what I said to you," he told her, looking into her eyes, "And I don't know why it took Elvish wine to get it out of me, but do you think that perhaps you will forgive me?"
"Forgive you for what?" she asked, tilting her head.
"For not saying it sooner. For not saying it at a time when we both would remember?"
She leaned closer to him, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. "You'll remember if you said it now, I expect."
Fíli cleared his throat. "Would you think me mad," he said, gathering his courage, "if I told you that I think I might be in love with you?"
The young lady pressed her fingers to her smiling lips. "There, now," she said. "Was that so hard?"
He smiled back at her. "Harder than anything I've ever done."
"Well, you did just fine, I think," she said, laughing. "And, no, I would not think you mad. I would think it was only fair."
Only fair? he thought; then his chest began to ache pleasantly. "Perhaps, then, you might visit me at the Mountain more often?" he said. "Or perhaps I could come here more often, and… we could, maybe… spend more time together?"
"I think that it's a good place to start."
"Today, then?" he asked excitedly, squeezing her hand tighter. "There is a while yet, I think, before Kíli and I have to return to Erebor…"
Sigrid looked out the window. "But if I am not mistaken, you two are supposed to be leaving within the hour."
Fíli turned towards the window, as well. "Is it that late already?" he asked. "Do you think we could put it off for just a bit longer?"
"I would not mind, of course," said Sigrid as they looked to one another again. "But what of your duties at the Mountain?"
His heart sank. "You're right," he said with a nod as he rose to his feet. "But just because I am leaving, it doesn't mean that I want to go."
He pulled her to standing, then they walked together towards the hallway.
"I'll speak with my father about me taking on more Dwarvish studies," she said. "I'm sure he wouldn't object. I'm always speaking to him of how I would like to learn more of your culture."
"I think that would be an excellent idea," he said, his chest warming at the thought.
They stopped outside of Fíli's guest room, and even through the closed door, he could hear his brother snoring away the late morning. Sigrid shook her head at the sound, then sighed as she turned to look into Fíli's eyes.
"There are many Dwarf traditions that are quite a mystery to me," she said. "However, I am not entirely certain of whether or not you would be willing to share them with an outsider."
"Well, I would hardly call you an outsider. Thorin has actually been considering naming you as the official cultural liaison to our people."
"He has?" asked Sigrid, seemingly taken aback. "Well, that's perfect, then! Just the right reason to make the trip more often."
Fíli held tighter to her hand, unwilling to let go just yet. "So, which of our traditions would you like to learn about first?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said with a small shrug. "Offhand, I might say those surrounding marriage."
His jaw slacked and he stood up straight. "Um… marriage?"
"It wouldn't be any trouble for you, would it?" she asked, a slight twinkle in her eye.
"I… well, I mean, I… I might…" he stammered; then he swallowed hard. "I mean, I would be more than happy to explain those traditions to you."
Sigrid nodded. "Wonderful! And I will, of course, return the favor by explaining to you how weddings are handled by my own kind. After all…" She leaned close and lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. "Since our peoples have been growing so much closer over the years, there is no telling when those traditions might need to combine."
He felt his heart begin to race. "Perhaps sooner, perhaps later. But I'm certain it will happen. Someday."
She let out a hum of agreement. "Someday."
The two of them stared at one another for a long moment, then she pressed her lips softly to his cheek. "Off you get, then," she said lightly, releasing his hand and turning away. "Wake your brother and get yourselves ready to go, and I will send for the ponies."
She started walking off then down the hallway, and he watched her until she turned a corner and left his sight; then he lifted his hand and touched the place where she had placed her kiss. Despite his aches and the lingering blurriness from the last evening, he knew that all along the road back to Erebor, he would not be able to think of anything but how her lips had felt against his skin.
But the sooner he got home, he reminded himself, the sooner he would be able to arrange for Sigrid's next visit. And besides, he didn't actually know that much about weddings or ceremonies of that type, so if she really wanted to know about them, then he would have to find out more himself.
He threw open the door to the guest room and rushed inside, slapping Kíli on the leg as he hurried past the bed and towards the wardrobe.
"Wake up!" he said. "The morning's over and the ponies won't wait!"
Kíli groaned. "What's the hurry?"
"I've got studying to do," Fíli told him, grabbing his folded clothing off of the wardrobe shelf. "Lots of studying."
"What kind of studying can't wait a few more hours?"
Fíli turned around to look at him. "What do you know about weddings and the like?"
At once, Kíli seemed much more alert. His eyes grew wide and he sat up, pushing himself back, then his hand slipped off the side of the bed and he tumbled to the floor, out of Fíli's sight. A few seconds later, he rose to his feet, swaying back and forth where he stood.
"Why?" he asked, suddenly out of breath. "Did Tauriel say something to you?"
Fíli gave his brother a wide grin, then turned back around towards the wardrobe, now very much looking forward to the conversation the two of them would be having along the road back to the Mountain.