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ichoosechoasandbeingqueer · 2 years

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Thunderstorms and Kisses

This is Day 9 of Fili whumptober!

Warnings: thunderstorms, ptsd

Word count: 2060

The thunderstorm outside sounds far to similar to the battle for Fili. Narni helps him through it.

Please refer to the warnings of this story. If you go past this point you are consenting to reading this content.

The thunderstorm outside roared in rage, the sounds echoing through the deep caverns and halls of the lonely mountain. Those who lived closest to the walls of the mountain watched the strikes of lighting with fascination and fear, in awe of the way nature could be so terrible and powerful at the same time. Those in the mines could feel the tingles of electricity through the walls of stone as the bolts hit their mark on the earth, those skilled enough being able to see through the walls and caves of their home without their eyes. Others, such as Narni, were simply heading home to wait out the destructive anger that the world was putting them through.

It was strange to see the usually bustling mountain so empty, and as the darrowdam made her way along her home’s long and deserted halls she felt the longing in her heart. Such as storm always brought her a sense of awe, the crashing and rumbling reminding her of the forge and its organized chaos, its lightning’s flashes reflecting the wonder that sparks in her eyes as she watches the embers burn and the metal bend and shape against the anvil. Storms where wild and free, just as her soul was.

Her feet were light against the marble halls and the small basket she carried was heavy and full of ingredients she would make into treats after dinner. Dinner that Fili was at home preparing for them both. A smile tugged on Narni’s lips at the though. Her prince was talented in many ways, she had known that from the beginning of their courting, but his talent of cooking had surprised her in the best way. While she preferred to bake, her prince put as much heart onto his cooking as he did his forging, and that knowledge alone let there be no comparison to any other’s cooking (except maybe Bombur, not that she would ever admit it to her wonderful lover).

She let the smile turn into a grin as her door came into sight, simply imaging all the wonderful aromas that would greet her as she walked inside. Perhaps Fili would be waiting for her with a spoon in his hand, rushing to her to taste what his hands had so carefully created for her, or perhaps he would be so focused, so entranced at what he was doing he wouldn’t even hear her come in? Would he let her dance around him as she baked? Would he chase her out of the kitchen with a grin, promising her all the time and help in the world after he was done, sealing the deal with a tender kiss? Or would they get lost in each other, forgetting all about dinner as the thunder clouds rolled overhead?

Selfish as it was, she didn’t care as long as he was there. His duties as heir left little time to spend freely with each other and on nights such as these, night where they could be alone together, tucked up in one another’s embrace, she was reminded just how important their bond had become. How strong their love had become.

Turning the handle with full hands was a dilemma but she got it done without dropping anything, having to race to the kitchen table before the eggs rolled away from her. She blinked once, twice at the darkness of the room and the lack of warmth coming from the stove.

“Fili?” she called out to the empty room.

Leaving everything where it was on the bench, she began to wander their quarters. She went straight to their bedroom, checking there first in case he had simply fallen asleep after a long day of meetings and drama, but when she stuck her head into the room and its was just as empty, dark and cold as the kitchen. A twinge of fear stirred in her stomach as she checked the bathroom and balcony with the same results. Had something happened that he would be called upon so late? Had the storm broken through the barricades at the gates?

She called his name again and again, her voice growing in worry each time his name fell from her lips. The last room was the office, and she almost tripped over her skirts in haste to get there, but again she was met with darkness and cold. She had turned to leave, a plan to hunt down her beloved’s brother to see if he was with him when a sniffle caught her ears.

She scanned the room again catching a hint of movement under Fili’s desk. It was small and at first, she had thought it a mouse seeking shelter from the storm, but as she crept closer, the mouse turned out the be the very dwarf she was looking for.

Tucked as far as he could get himself, Fili hid under his desk, his knees propped under his jaw and his hands over his mouth. Red rimmed eyes looked up at her with a look of desperation and fear as he sniffled again.

“Fili?” she asked gently, kneeling down to see him better. His name brought no reaction, but as a louder crash of lightning struck outside and the walls of the mountain groaned in protest of the abuse, Fili whimpered and tucked his face deeper into his hands.

She was by his side in an instant, her hand rubbing his soothingly. He flinched away at first, his head flicking up like he had not realized she was there before recognition settled in his eyes and he gasped onto her with a grip like iron. Narni opened her arms for him and he tucked his head into her chest.

“I’s too loud,” he mumbled miserably, his entire body shaking, “too loud,”

“Oh my sweet, sweet jewel. Do you mean the storm?”

He nodded and sniffled again, “Too loud. I don’t wanna fight again,”

“Fight? Why would you- oh,” she cut herself off, realizing just why her prince was so distraught. The sound outside, the one that warmed her and made her think of her safe space in the forge reminded him of battle, the clashing of metal not one of creation, but of destructing, pain and death.

“Oh, Fee, it is just a storm. There’s no fighting, I promise. You are safe my one. If you just come out-”

Her words meant to heal and calm were drowned out but another gust of howling wind, her brave lion curling up on himself again and holding his hands over his ears.

She hated to leave him here like this, but as quickly as her feet would allow it, she raced out of the room and around their home, grabbing an armful of things from each room and dumping it at her beloved’s feet. She was like a dam possessed as she raced to do another round, rummaging through her basket still sitting on the bench waiting for her.

Fili peaked his head out from behind his hands as she cursed, watching her rub the spot on the top of her head that she had smacked against the wooden desk in her crazed haste. He sent her a worried look with wide eyes and a quivering lip, and as she caught it, she sent him a grin and kicked off her boots. Soon enough she was crawling back to his side, dragging pillows and blankets and warm fluffy coats with her. Again, Narni worked in a hurry, tucking the soft things around them and barricading themselves under the desk.

Affectionately and leisurely now, as not to scare her prince more than he already was now she was by his side, she wrapped him their softest and thickest fur. It was a gift he had presented her after days of hunting, skinning and preserving in an attempt to win her heart in the early days of there courting, the fool not realizing that he already held it in his hands. She chuckled at the memory as she wrapped it around his shoulders and over his head and ears. Their horrible looking stuffed cat plushy made it into his arms, Narni’s favorite wool jumper went between him and the cold stone wall and the blanket from their bed made it around both of them. The rest of the cushions went against the legs of the table and at its mouth, tucking them both in and away from the world outside.

Fili’s sapphire eyes gazed across her work in wonder, hugging the furs closer and slowly coming out of his ball. She felt her heart melt for him and she leaned back and opened her arms once more, her prince wasting no time to scamper into them.

She pulled him close to her, encouraging him into her lap as he dug his nose into the crook of her neck, hiding himself away in her hair. For a while they sat there like that, her hands rubbing circles into the skin of his thighs and back, listening to him whimper and cry, the storm only getting louder as it passed over head. His body shivered and tensed when the lightning hit somewhere close, but slowly and surely his grip began to loosen and he lifted his head from her neck.

Narni peppered kisses against the crown of his head, spreading down to his brows and further to his nose as he slowly came out of his safety embrace. Her hand trailed up his side to wipe away the tears that fell onto his cheeks, kissing away the streaks that stained his face and running her fingers through his beard. He leaned his head back to reach her lips, but she instead kissed his chin, trailing down his jaw and neck.

He moved again trying to line his lips with hers, not missing the way she smiled as she missed again, and he give a small whine.

“So impatient my dear prince,” she tutted, kissing the side of his mouth and drawing another whine from the darrow. He looked up at her with wide begging eyes and she caved, pulling him closer and letting him hurriedly place his lips on hers.

Narni let her fingers wonder into his hair, pulling on his braids as he kissed her, their bodies fitting against each other like two pieces of a puzzle. He paused, pulling back with a dazed look making her giggle. She pecked his lips once more and ushered him to rest his head again so she could take out his braids. Complying wholeheartedly, he relaxed against her again, his eyes drooping as she worked her fingers through his golden locks.

“Thank you,” he murmured, running his hands along her sides, “for staying with me,”

She smiled, tucking his beads into the pocket of a nearby jacket so not to lose the precious heirlooms, “Always, my treasure. How are you feeling?”

“Better, though the noise still hurts,”

“I already have plans to have earmuffs created. You know the ones that the miners use when using blast powder? Something like that but softer… would that help?”

The blond gave a nod, “I think so. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be so bad. I didn’t even make dinner, the kitchens a mess and I-”

“Hush now none of that,” the dam scolded lightly, “You are allowed to hurt Fili. Besides if your hungry I have some chocolate chips? I was going to make cookies but this seemed a more appropriate call for chocolate,”

The prince chuckled, the rumble vibrating from his chest, “You always know how to please a darrow, but maybe we could just stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Of course jewel. Lay with me?”

Fili gave a nod and she laid, wrapping them both in their blankets again as he snuggled into her side and laid his head on her chest. He hummed at the feeling of her gently raking through his loose hair and again his eyes began to close.

Quiet humming sounded through their little fort of safety, pulling his thoughts away from the rumble outside and onto the smooth sound of Narni’s voice. She hummed an old Iron Hills lullaby from her childhood, smiling down at the prince that slept soundly in her arms, his face smoothing out and finally finding peace.

“Good night my brave lion,”

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

See full 31 day whumptober 2022 Master List here

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ichoosechoasandbeingqueer · 2 years

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Flames of the Forge - Bold

Fili x Darrowdam OC Narni

Warnings: cut/drop of blood (nothing major)

Word Count: 5224

Fili is a dwarf dedicated to his craft but still longs to find his one. On his one hundredth birthday, he may just find who he’s looking for. Narni is a blacksmith new to Erebor and presents Prince Fili with a controversial gift.

A/n: Hopefully this will be the first in a few short stories about these two. We’ll see how I go. Let me know if you want a tag list. This is mainly fluff but please feel free to comment and reblog if you enjoy!

The dress was soft and silky as it sat on her skin, the deep purple material hemmed with gold thread and steel cuffs making her feel powerful as she moved through the halls of Erebor. Her family and mastery beads sat in her braids tightly and her hair had been woven in such a way it brushed the ground in its length despite its carefully planned plaits. She adorned her favorite ear cuffs, gold but simple with a single amethyst gem dangling from her right ear. She moved with pride and purpose as she swept into the main hall full of dwarves.

She new it was a bold move, what she was doing. Very few had ever presented the golden-haired prince with a dagger of their own making, and even less had the nerve to do so in such a public setting. He lined his body with the weapons like one would with their beads and braids. They were apart of him, the cold blades hidden around his form, and he took pride in each and every one of them. His knowledge of the forge and its steel transcended into the beauty of his weapons. The prince was known for his dagger forging, the pieces of art that his hands created more stunning than any master could dream of bringing to completion. He bent an infused a slice of his soul into every blade he created. Sharp. Strong. Dangerous.

The only thing more beautiful then gazing upon such daggers was watching him use them. He used them like they were an extension of his body. Completely in control, his movements were always flawless and swift. The way he danced through the air with his steel was mesmerizing.

He had a kind and gentle heart, but when it came to his daggers, he was specific and stringent. Anything less than perfect was a waist of time in his book, and the few blacksmiths that had presented him with a dagger had been turned away in disgust. He had even kicked one out of the room entirely for presenting him a knife with a twisted and unfinished pommel.

His heart and soul belonged to his chosen craft. He lived and breathed the hot steel of the forges, the pounding and molding of the hammer on anvil, the sizzle and bubble of the quench. They weren’t just knives to him. To him they spoke stories and showed passions. A dagger showed your deepest essence as well as protected your life. To be presented with anything less then a flawless blade was an insult to himself and his craft.

The first time Narni had seen Fili Durin was in the battle of the five armies as she fought in Dain’s army. She had caught a glimpse of golden hair admits the chaos and frozen in place as she watched the darrow slice through orc after orc, dancing effortlessly through the battle of bodies and steel. It was only for a second, but the way he moved with his weapons had moved her. She had been a blacksmith since she could walk and had dedicated to learning the way of the blade, in battle and in the forge. The weapon itself was pedestrian, but the way the prince had used it brought a new life to the old steel. It was like artwork watching him twist and turn with steel in his hand and it sent a strange feeling through her body. And then in a blink he was gone.

The second time she had spotted him was in the forges. With the growth of Erebor, she had bid her parents farewell in the Iron Hills and settled down in the lonely mountain, continuing to learn and hone her skills with the uncovered knowledge of their libraries and ancient forges now burning with dragon fire. He had been testing one of his newly finished blades, the knife slicing through the thick leather hide like butter. He held such consecration and focus in his ocean blue eyes and he tested and wrapped his blade. Pride was held in his smile and as she studied his work for afar, she couldn’t deny its beauty.

That’s what sparked her soul and guided her to make her own dagger. One that she would offer to her prince.

The other dwarves had laughed, sneered and gasped when they had found out, but the dam could not be dissuaded. She had used every skill she had learnt and mastered from the design to the polish, pouring her blood, sweat and soul into her creation, and now, on the princes one hundredth birthday, she would offer her hard work to him.

Her heart was in her throat as she waited, fiddling with the soft layer of silk that wrapped her work. She knew it was a good blade, beautiful and deadly, but she did not know how he would react to such a gift. Would he smile, his pretty blue eyes widening in fascination? Would he nod politely and brush the gift of to one on the servers unimpressed? Would he scoff and send her away? The line she stood in took another step and it was almost her turn to face the prince.

Something solid hit her back however, and knocked her unbalanced as she thought, the gift falling from her hands and siding along the ground.

“Hey!” she protested, turning to glare at who had hit her, “take care where you step fool!”.

She cringed when she relised who was standing behind her. Vargit, another blacksmith and a bully, stationed a few forges away from her own staired back with a scowl. He was adorned in his best attire, and being the son of a lord from centuries ago, it made her own outfit look like rags. He practically glittered with the number of jewels and gems that hung from his coat.

“Sorry Birdy, I do hope nothing is broken?” he shot back quickly. Narni ignored the unflattering nickname and looked around for her gift, finding it already in the hands of Vargit’s brother, Vaster.

“Now, now, what is this Birdy?” the younger questioned with furrowed brows, shaking the box and unwrapping the silk. To slowly she lunged for the box his eyes widened at what laid inside. “Well now, that wouldn’t be a gift for the prince, would it?”

He swiftly threw the box over her head and into his brother hands to show him.

“Your joking?” Vargit chuckled holding up the knife to the light, “You’re actually going to present prince Fili with a dagger? You are a mad one. Skilled yes, that I would not deny, but mad nevertheless,”

“Mad or not,” she grunted as she jumped to take back her gift, missing when he held it far above his head, “I will do so with or without your permission. Now give it back!”

She jumped again and he laughed as she missed for a second time. Even for a darrowdam she was short against her kin, and she though it best not to punch the son of a nobledwarf in the gut, no matter how much he tempted her.

“Such temper in such a small frame,” he mocked, “yet to no avail,”

She tensed her knuckles by her sides “Perhaps I should use my anger to break your nose instead?”

“Oh I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he grinned side eyeing the high court where his father stood in discussion with Lord Balin, the kings high adviser. She turned her head to follow his gaze and he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “I wouldn’t want to get you kick out of the party before you could present your gift,”

He thrusted the box into her hands and pushed her forwards as the announcer called her up. Flustered and rushed she stepped forwards and bowed low enough for her knees to touch the cold stone she stood upon.

When she looked up, she saw him. Prince Fili ‘lion heart’ Durin, son of Dis and heir to the throne of Erebor. He sat in his throne, to the right of the kings’, and held a small smile on his lips. Beautiful golden locks braided around his face framed his blue eyes and in his thick beard, just below his bottom lip, held a single braid and bead. A master blacksmith bead.

She swallowed harshly when she saw it and he must have noticed. He faintly raised one of his brows and tilted his head as he gazed at her softly, his grin widening when her entire face burnt red in embarrassment.

The announcer at her side cleared his throat and she jumped in her spot, pulling her eyes away from his.

“Oh, I, um.. Narni Silversands, at your service your majesty. And to you I present my gift for your one hundredth birthday,”

She held out the box, cringing at the wrinkled ribbon and uneven silk thanks to Vargit and Vaster’s rough handling, but bowing her head respectfully as the box was handed to the prince.

“I thank you for my gift Narni,” he purred in a beautiful silky voice that had her blushing once again, “though I must say I am surprised,”

“Surprised your majesty?”

He nodded once, his bead jingling as he did so, “The only dwarves that have handed me gift with there own hands tonight have been those on the council or their children. I do not recognize you as one of those children, and you seem far to young and lovely to be on the council,”

“Oh,” she blinked pushing back the thoughts of him calling her lovely, and focusing on putting words together, “You would be correct my prince. I am not Lord’s daughter or Lady of the house. Merely a blacksmith who now calls this mountain her home,”

“A blacksmith you say?”

“Yes, your majesty, a bold one some might say,”

He tilted his head again and gave a small chuckle. With thick fingers he pulled open the bow and Narni felt herself hold her breath. The small smile on her princes’ face slowly faded as he staired into the box and she felt her heart drop in her stomach.

Mahal. He hated it.

Fili opened his mouth to say something but closed it again with a look of discomfit. He glanced at her again and she felt her eyes begin to burn with tears. She took a breath and pushed them down as best she could.

“It is… nice?” He tried cautiously, noting the anguish on her face, “An admirable effort I suppose, nothing fundamentally wrong with it. Pretty silver handle?”

Five months she had worked on that dagger! From tip to hilt she had worked tirelessly to make it perfect, to make it a part of her and a part of him and all he could say was…

“Silver?” she scrunched her nose up, “the handle is not silver,”

He looked at her questionably and snorted, “Yes, it is,” he argued holding up the box to show her.

There in the box sat a simple silver dagger.

Not her dagger.

“But how? That’s not.. I didn’t…”

“I’m sorry master Narni but I don’t know what more to say on the matter…”

“That’s not mine. I didn’t make that for you!”

Fili frowned, “You packed the wrong knife before you came? That seems hard to believe lass,”

Around her dwarves started to laugh and she took a shaky step back.

“I don’t understand I…”

Fili gave her a sympathetic look and her bottom lip trembled. Dwarves arounder her began to mutter and she could only catch words like ‘pitiful’ and ‘silly girl’. Her palms felt sweaty and her breathing shuttered.

“Perhaps it is time for you to move on,” the announcer muttered lighting pushing her out of the way and back into the crowds. Before she could get a word out to argue the next person had stepped up began their introductions. She turned on her heal and dove back into the crowds to cover herself from the golden princes’ eyes that lingered on her sadly.

Her heart pounded in her ears and her hands shook as she tried to make it to the doors of the grate hall. She kept her head down as she shuffled wiping away her tears and sniffling miserably to herself.

She didn’t understand what had happened, she had made sure that everything was perfect. How could another dagger be placed in the box like that?

“What’s wrong Birdy? The prince not like your gift?” a voice called over her shoulder stopping her dead in her tracks. She tilted her head back and watched Vargit grin down at her when she made the realization.

“You? You did this didn’t you? You swapped the daggers”

His grin widened wickedly and he pulled out her dagger from his jacket, “Of course I swapped them. I got so sick of you beating me every step of the way. Every knife a make, you make a better one. Every sword I smith they pay you double!” His smile had slowly vanished as he had spoken, anger replacing his features, “So now you look like a disaster in front of everyone, no one will every commission your blades again. And now there’s noting standing in my way of smithing,”

“What?” she spat at him, her anger burning under her skin, “Mahal, what the stars are you talking about? Maybe make a decent blade from time to time and you wouldn’t have a problem to begin with!”

“Oh you little brat! You little Bird! Take your daggers and stay out of my way!”

And with that he threw her dagger as far as he could onto the restricted balcony above their heads. She let out a cry and took off down the corridor no longer bothering to hide the tears that streamed down her face.

***

Fili’s night had been long and numbing, and he let out a stifled sigh as he looked around the room and ignored the conversation around him. Truly that hall looked grand. The large iron chandeliers were ablaze, the food was abundant and the Durin tapestry that lined the back wall behind their thrones was complete and hung against stone. His uncle had gone above and beyond to make this night spectacular and as much as the prince wished to sit back and enjoy it, he knew it for what it really was.

Since reclaiming the mountain and taking his rightful place as prince and heir, Fili had balanced his duties with his love for his craft. He would spend almost every spare second he had in his forges, more grand and luxurious as there were here compared to what they had in the Blue Mountains, and he had quickly dedicated himself to his craft. Only, he had not taken up his craft alone like many other masters had, which meant Thorin had tried to set him up with more dams that he could count. Tonight was no different. The grand expense and over the top outfit that had been chosen for his were all an attempt for his uncle to find him a spouse. He loved his uncle dearly, but it was becoming a bit much.

In truth, Fili wasn’t against the idea of finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. Mahal, the prince has had his wedding planed since he was twelve. It was Kili that people saw as the hopeless romantic out of the two off them, but Fili was just as much emersed in the longing to find his one as his brother. It was just difficult to actually find them. Especially now that he was a prince and the crowned prince no less. Most of the time he could spot those who would bat their eyes at him in the hopes of wealth and political power rather quickly, sending them away and continuing his search. The others that had actually wanted to get to know him he simply didn’t connect with the right way to see a romantic relationship with in the future. He had to follow his head in making a decision, but he also had to follow his heart.

His mother had always spoke of the first time she had met their father, the spark that short through them when their eyes met and the connection they felt in their souls when they spoke. He had seen it in Kili when he had met Tauriel in the Elven Kings dungeons and in his uncle at Bilbo as they stood upon the Carrow. He knew of the magic of finding your one, and he had thought he almost found it.

A beautiful darrowdam dressed in purples and gold had approached his throne flushed and shy taking his breath away when her eyes flickered up to meet his. He didn’t recognize her face or recall her name but she had called herself a blacksmith. Her steel masters bead tracing alone her soft jaw had confirmed it and for a moment he felt something. Perhaps it was the that flame in her eyes that held out her soul for show, or the adorable chuckle she gave when she called herself ‘bold’.

And bold she was to present to him such a gift. A gift that he had rejected in so many others.

She held confidence in her stance but not the cockiness of others he had the displeasure of meeting. Though as he opened the box it was not what he had imagined. He had expected her soul to speak through her creation, the same flare that rolled off her effortlessly weaved into its sharp metal. Maybe he had thought to much of her, expected too much to soon. His heart fell to his stomach when he saw the plain looking dagger sat snug in the box.

He had watched her face fall and he looked between the weapon and her face and the confusion that scrunched up her face as he showed her what she had presented to him. It almost made him want to believe there had been a mix up and wait for her to find her ‘real’ gift, but before he could address her again the announcer had pushed her out of the line and ushered the next person up.

He had sulked to himself ever since and now as he sat next to the King and Lord Dain and pretended to listened to wherever they were talking about as he huffed and sighed. He quickly decided that he needed another glass of wine and lifted his crystal goblet only to be temporally blinded as a flash bounced from the lighting to his mug to him. He blinked a few times and looked around to find what had reflected catching a flash of metal fly threw the air. His first though was that they were under attack and his hand instantly when to one of his hidden knifes at his hip. When he registered that it was not coming towards them but away, he squinted through the crowd to see where it had come from and if there was to be another.

His breath caught in his throat when he spotted the dam from before with her purple dress flowing around her like a halo and her hair sweeping the floor. She was standing with one of the Lord’s sons and they were both facing towards where the object had landed. He watched from afar as pain spread across her features and she took off into a run out of the hall, leaving the other darrow to laugh and strut away.

The prince frowned at the exchange and felt his stomach churn. Had he hurt her in some way? She hadn’t limped and held onto anything in pain, through her expression made him hesitate. He had done something to distress her and it had to do with that flash of object that now laid on the retracted balcony. Well, restricted if you weren’t of the royal line.

Excusing himself in a quiet voice, Fili slipped out of the great hall and slowly wondered up to the balcony that the object sat. His feet wondered up the spiral staircase and through the corridor and finally he came upon the door. When he arrived, he slid open the stone door and looked around the small area with intrigue. Neither dwarf had held a bow so what ever it was must have been small enough and light enough to been throw to such a height.

He checked under the few chairs and table that sat in the room before another flash hit his eye. There on the edge of the balcony sat a knife teetering on the edge of falling. Quickly he snatched it up and examined his find, his eyes widening in wonder at the steel that laid in him palms.

The daggers blade was a ladder damascus pattern and as he flipped it around in his hands, he discovered it was coated so that the metal shone a gorgeous Durin blue in direct lighting. It was a rare skill amongst blacksmiths to make the colour shine through and he had never seen it accomplished so well on a blade before. The pommel was made from some sort of bone or antler and sealed with a resin so it would not crack, darkening to a gold colour at the hilt that displayed the head of a lion. The prince moved closer to the light had gasped at the detailing of the sculpture. The lion’s mouth held a snarl and a braid adorned each side of its mane to match his own. He traced his fingers over the smooth blade finding no rivets or delamination in the steel and a sharp sting struck his fingertip as a bead or red dripped onto steel. It was as sharp as ice and now christened with his blood.

It must have taken its creator months to perfect and if filled him with exhilaration and a tad of jealousy at its skillful crafting.

Was this what the dam had intended to gift him? No wonder she had been so distressed when he showed her the other dagger that laid in the box he was given. But how did it end up here?

He had to find her, to ask if she truly was the creature of such beauty. But how would he do that? He had her name but knew nothing else about her.

Frustrated and newly inspired, he turned away from his own party and began to wonder through the halls of the great mountain in contemplation. He needed to find her. To ask her. To explain. Would she be understanding to his rejection or angry with him? Would she be kind or hash as he sort her out. Could she teach him how she created a blade with such vibrant colour? Perhaps he could craft her a dagger of his own making as an apology?

Locked so deep in his thoughts he wondered down stairways and through archways of stone until he came across the forges. So caught up in his mind of planning and designing his legs had carried him to his work bench. A smile broke out on his face and he made for his desk knowing he had so designing paper left over from his last build. He paused at his desk however and frowned as the sound of a hammer sounded and echoed through the darkness.

The royal forges were on the second level of the smithery, separated for safety and comfort for those who would normally be swarmed by their subjects, but was open so they could look out and over the other blacksmiths on the first level. Looking over the railing of his level a single forge was lit and burning, a dwarf pounding down of the glowing metal bar before them. A flash of purple material on their person caught his eye.

Shocked and hopeful Fili practically raced down the stairs and over to their forge slowing only when he arrived to watch them in awe. It was indeed Narni, her long hair wrapped up messily into a bun and her dress gaining burns and smudges of charcoal. He also noted sadly, the dried lines of tears that ran down her face and the newly puffed burns on her hands from not paying complete attention.

Loose wisps of hair stuck to her forehead as sweat dripped down her face and neck. He could see her muscle through her dress as she reeled back her arm and brought it down with a crack to the metal.

Realizing he was staring he took a timid step forwards and cleared his throat. She spun around quick as lightning and held out her red glowing steel under his chin in a defensive stance.

It took her a moment to catch her breath, but she eventually lowered the steel and tilled her head in question.

“My prince Fili? What in Mahal are you doing down here?”

The prince remained speechless and wide eyed as he gazed at her, his turn to blush and stammer. So soft and gentle she had looked kneeled before him, but here in her domain, she looked powerful and dangerous. Either way Fili thought she was beautiful.

Pulling his eyes away he remembered why he was here and held out the dagger from the balcony.

Narni’s eyes watered a touch and she let out a soft gasp, “How did you get this?”

“It is yours is it not? The dagger you were meant to gift to me?”

“Yes,” she nodded, leaving her metal and hammer on her workshop bench and taking a few steps towards him, “This is the dagger I crafted but it should be abandoned on a balcony not here in your hands,”

“It is exquisite,” he whispered.

Her face lit up at his words.

“Truly? You like it? You’re not just saying that because you feel bad?”

“Not at all! My words are sincere when I say this is one of the most beautiful blades I have ever had the pleasure of wielding,”

He offered her a smile and she sheepishly returned it. She held out her hands.

“May I?”

He nodded and placed the dagger in her hands only for her to kneel before him. The light from the forges’ flames made her eyes shine and dance as she looked up at him with determination.

“My prince Fili,” she said with a bow of her head, “on your one hundredth birthday I present you with a gift made of my own hands in the hope that it may serve you well inside and outside of the battle field. To you, I give a dagger forged in the mountain you will someday rule, by a subject that holds nothing but loyalty and adoration for your bravery and dedication to his people and his craft,”

He felt touched by her words and couldn’t help his eyes from watering as she declared them, “Such devotion and kind words you hold for me my dear Narni. I will do well to honor them always,”

“Thankyou for giving me the chance to say them. I don’t know how you came across my dagger nor how you found me all the way down here while the great hall is filled with merry and song, but I will always be grateful,”

A strangely comfortable silence engulfed them as they watched each other through the dark. Fili removed his only visible dagger and tucked it inside his jacket replacing it with Narni’s gifted dagger, the lion facing out like it would defend him when needed.

Testing the waters, the golden prince took a step closer to her workbench and let his eyes wonder. Papers covered in ruff sketches and little notes to herself lined the back wall of her desk and handmade tools for carving and molding delicate details were tucked into a jar to the right.

“Did you design all of these?” he asked.

“Yes, most are decorative pieces rather than practical, but a few are the favorite knifes I have already completed,”

“And this?” he gestured to the now cooling metal she had been working on, “what will this become?”

She blushed scarlet, “Honestly, with the way I was pounding it, most likely it will end in the scraps. It was more so something to take my frustrations out on,”

He chuckled knowing the feeling. He had spent many a night merely heating metal to bash at it after a particularly stressful day in council meetings or other royal business.

“A shame, I would have loved to see you create something now I know of your talent with the steel. perhaps another day I will have the chance to see it?”

She seemed taken back by his request but nodded and grinned again, “Only if I may see you at work also?”

“You truly are a bold one, aren’t you?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Fili thought for a moment and his hand came to rest on the hilt of his dagger, the feel of his lion new to his fingers. New and thrilling.

“No, I think it is a good thing. Actually, I think I may need to follow in boldness,” he confessed.

“Oh, and why is that my prince?”

“I would like to get to know you better miss Narni Silversands, and I must be bold enough to ask. Would you like to come back to the party with me?”

She smiled brightly at his question but faltered when she looked down at herself, “I would love to prince Fili, but I’m afraid I may have ruined my only dress. I would not wish to make you or your halls so filthy,”

He though for a moment before nodding, “Then perhaps I may get to know you here. Coal smudges and all?”

“I do have some designs I could show you?” she mused, scratching her chin and leaving a black smudge along her jaw.

Fili chuckled at the action, “I would love to see them,” he grinned bringing his hand up to her face and wiping the stain from her skin. It was a bold move put it paid off when she blushed brightly, making the same face she had in the great hall.

He took a step back, reignited the fire so they had light to see and sat down next to the dam. She pulled out a few sketches, some black sheets and some chalk and pencils and laid them down before them. She scooched herself closer to him and he gave her a cheeky smile.

“What? It’s cold,” she defended.

“Well that just won’t do, will it?”

With one last bold move for the night, he peeled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

They settled comfortably against each other and didn’t move until the sun come up the next morning, talking and laughing and designing knives or beauty. Perhaps it wasn’t the sparks his mother felt upon meeting his father, or the bright glowing light his brother described, but being next to her? It felt… nice.

It felt… right.

Could it be?

His one?

He supposed he would have to be bold one more time and find out.

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