Daughter of Stars and Stones - Part 6

«Ouch! What are you trying to do? Tear my hair out one handful at the time?» Kíli exclaimed and flinched away as his daughter tried her best to loosen his worst tangles with a fine comb. It was made of silver, forged by himself as one of the wedding gifts for his wife. And now their forty year old daughter tormented him with it.

«If you would only sit still it would go a lot quicker and painless,» Kíliel sighed exasperated as he moved away again, and the last bit of the tangle she'd been working on slipped from her fingers. She held the comb between her teeth and tried to find the knot with both hands again. Her father's hair was a mess to work through, thick and wild as her own.

«You sound more like your mother every day,» Kíli rolled his eyes, and suppressed a grin. Luckily for him Tauriel did not hear. She was still inside the bathing house with Éira, Thekk's mother. The two had grown close during the last five years. Kíli did not know how it had happened, but he was glad his wife was settling more easily. Forty years she had lived in the Mountain, and it had been a hard couple years for her to get used to it all.

This day was no exception. It was the 24th of February, the year 2983, on the annual Festival of the Mithrill, celebrating the coming of spring and the new year, or better known amongst the dwarves as the Washing Day. It was a holiday dreaded for its most important tradition; washing and combing of hair and beards. The dwarves of Erebor had, like any other civil culture, a good general hygiene, and any dwarf with respect for themselves washed all the important parts at least once a month. However, that rarely included combing of beards and hair. And Kíli was a great example of why.

«Will you stop it?» Kíliel squealed as her father for the tenth time moved away as she tried to comb out the last of this tangles. «You know you have to get them sorted some time. If you'd let me comb you more often, it wouldn't be so hard and painful.»

«Don't think you can fool me, lass. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you enjoyed tormenting your poor father,» Kíli turned to her and put up a sad face, meant to win her over. And it did.

«Only a little bit,» Kíliel giggled. She placed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly from behind.

«Maybe I should do yours next then, see how you like it,» Kíli grinned and tugged at one of her wet locks that fell over his face as she leaned over him. She squealed with laugher and tried to get away, but he quickly got a hold of her and tickled her so she laughed even louder.

Some of the neighbouring dwarves turned to them as it sounded more like screaming than laughing, but at seeing the princess and her father, they ignored it and turned back to their own uncomfortable business of getting clean for the festival. Each group of family or friends had their own little stall, with walls three feet from the ground, so only the heads could be spotted above the walls.

Kíliel got loose from her father's grip eventually. She tried to keep a serious face as she again began combing his hair. «Don't try to distract me, father. Mother said to be very strict; you need to get all your hair and beard combed.» She giggled as she heard Kíli's groan. «It's for your own good!»

«That's only what she wants you to believe,» Kíli muttered and turned to look at her with narrow eyes, his lips curled in a clever smile. Kíliel knew not to listen to him when he had that smile. «Do you want me to tell you a secret?» He asked with a mysterious tone.

Kíliel rolled her eyes and put her hands at her hips, knowing it was just another silliness, to keep her from combing him. He was rather cowardly when it came to pain, especially if it involved his beard. «What?» She asked and raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

He waived for her to come closer, and as she leaned in, he whispered in her ear with an exaggerated hushed voice: «She's not always right.» He then placed a kiss on her forehead and laughed.

Kíliel laughed as well, for his silliness always got to her, no matter the situation or her mood. She leaned down again and kissed his cheek sweetly. «I know that, but we mustn't let her know,» and she held a finger in front of her lips, just as Tauriel came walking towards them.

«What are you two whispering about?» Tauriel asked wondering as she saw their lingering, smirking gazes. Both father and daughter broke out laughing, and Tauriel stood looking at them with a confused expression as both Kíli and Kíliel heaved for breath.

Tauriel sighed and rolled her eyes, though her smile was barely concealed. «Fine, keep your secrets.» She came around the corner and entered the stall. She was dressed in a bathing tunic with a linen towel wrapped around her. Her hair was wet and clung to her back.

«A father and daughter must have some secrets, marlûnaê,» Kíli teased and stretched his neck to meet Tauriel's lips as she bent down to kiss him. Kíliel rolled her eyes at them.

«Did you finish combing your father's hair, Kíliel?» Tauriel asked as she straightened and began wrapping her own hair with the towel. Before Kíli got a chance to answer, Tauriel snapped: «I asked our daughter, because I do not trust you with that answer,» and she shot her husband a strict look, before smirking cleverly and winking her eye at him. Kíli sighed and continued sulking as Kíliel told her mother how far she'd come.

«It's not easy combing someone who's wincing every time I try to run the comb through their hair,» Kíliel pursed her lips and looked at her father, whom had the most innocent smile on his face. Tauriel sighed, and put her hands on her hips. Suddenly a smirk grew on her lips and she grabbed the comb from Kíliel.

«Would you rather have me comb it for you?» She asked him, and Kíli looked as if she had asked to cut off his beard.

«Don't you come near me, elf!» He laughed and sprang to his feet as Tauriel took a few threatening steps towards him, grasping the comb in her hand. Kíli walked backwards away from her, rising his hands as to protect himself. Tauriel wiggled the comb in her hand and smiled her most convincing smile as she closed in on her husband. Kíli growled and threw himself on Tauriel so they both fell to the floor where they proceed to wrestle to be on top. Both of them halfway laughed and grunted while they wrestled.

In the first couple years living in Erebor, Tauriel had found many of their traditions and customs strange and unusual, and this particular tradition was no different. She had thought it immensely strange to be in a communal hall while bathing, cleaning and combing one's self. Elves, and especially those of Mirkwood, had no experience with steam chambers, they preferred to bathe in the privacy of their own chambers, and the thought of only combing one's hair once a year was unheard of. But after a few years she came to honour and treasure the tradition more than even the dwarves did. It was a day that brought the whole of Erebor together, first in the washing halls, and then in the grand feast afterwards, which for the dwarves was worth getting combed for. This was why she urged for them all, especially Kíli, who had a tendency to shrug at most of their old traditions, to take it seriously.

Kíliel stood out of the way, watching her parents fight like they were no more mature than her, and she laughed. They were so silly, so much in love, and Kíliel wondered what it was like. They depended on each other like sister and brother, laughed like best friends, sometimes they fought like enemies, and yet they always looked at each other like there were no other present. Never before had she thought about it like this, but it was so obvious, and in her heart she envied them.

She suddenly felt a pressure in her chest, a sharp pain like the stab of a small knife, and just as quickly it was gone.

Her parents had finished wrestling and now they sat together on the floor, Tauriel over Kíli's lap and they kissed passionately once, before remembering their daughter. They both rose, still laughing. Tauriel walked over to Kíliel and laid a hand over her cheek, and then she dragged her hands through her daughter's hair.

«Do you want me to comb it for you?» Tauriel asked, her eyes warm and kind as always. Kíliel didn't meet her mother's eyes. She backed away, out of her mother's reach, and shook her head slowly.

«No, I'll do it later,» she began, her voice uncertain. «I think I'll go back to the steam chamber one last time before we leave.»

«Okay, starlight,» Tauriel said, her eyes growing concerned as she looked at her daughter. The elf looked to her husband whom shared her suddenly worried expression, before she turned back to their daughter, with a half-attempted smile. «But hurry back.»

Kíliel didn't want to say anything, nor tell them about her feelings. She didn't fully understand them herself, so she faked a smile and turned to walk towards the steam chambers. Maybe that would ease her thoughts, make her understand all the strange feelings growing inside of her.

Suddenly it hit her again, that strange, painful feeling in her chest. Kíliel felt the panic grow, not knowing what was wrong with her. She was still in public and she kept calm while walking past all the stalls. She decided to check it out further when she got home.

—

Kíliel spent thirty minutes in the steam chambers, breathing deeply, taking in the calming scent of the steam. It felt great to her stressed mind and her slowly fading headache. She was almost alone in the big room, as it was getting late mid-day. The time for grooming was nearly over and the three days of celebrating was upon them.

The bathing houses and steam houses on the other side of the hall from the stalls were not divided, but contained cold and hot ponds supplied with water from the many rivers running through Erebor, and chambers with steam coming through the floor from the hot springs underneath the mountain. The separate stalls were practical for the actual prepping and combing before and after washing. There were four washing halls underneath the city of Erebor, and Kíliel and her family were in the one straight underneath the living quarters of South-town.

Erebor was divided into four, one for each sky-direction. South-town was the home of the important dwarves beneath the Mountain; the council members and the royal families, but many of the general population also lived here. The four towns were placed on opposite sides of each other, and in the middle of them was the Market-halls and all the halls open for the general population. Each town had their own dining halls, healing chambers, guards' chambers, and washing halls. The Hall of The Kings, where Kíliel lived with her family, was originally a separate part of the Mountain, not belonging to any of the four towns. Because it was the closest to the South-town, placed straight above it, its inhabitants used that Town for its dining halls, classrooms and other necessities. The chambers of the Hall of the Kings were mainly for housing, not much else.

As she left the chambers to walk back to her parents, she noticed that both her hair and tunic was almost soaking wet again. She cursed under her breath.

There was no way her hair would dry before the feast now, not with all the curls living their own lives all the way down to her waist. It had grown as wildly as mountain grass the last few months, and she loved the feel of the weight and the sight of it that made her forget she was not a true dwarf.

As she rounded the corner of the steam and bath chambers, and entered the stall section of the hall, she recognised the curses of a young dwarf with a snivelling voice and warm, brown eyes. She followed the grunting and cursing and eventually she found him in a stall not too far from her parents. He was alone, and by the looks of it he was trying to comb his own hair, with little luck.

«Kherakh udu Naragzudnu!» Thekk yelled when the comb got stuck in his damp curls for the thousandth time. Kíliel giggled from behind the stall wall, and he turned to her abruptly. He had a flustered expression as he looked at her.

«Do you need some help?» She asked after a moment of silence. She had a bubbly expression, and Thekk straightened immediately and looked as if having a comb sticking out of his curls was completely normal.

«Why would ya' think I need any help?» He asked, his mischievous smile grew as he spoke, and he stood up from the stool where he sat. He tilted his head and looked at her with those big brown eyes, and for the first time she noticed that he was bare-chested. Kíliel blinked a few times, suddenly feeling her cheeks grow warm.

He looked no different than usual, but she had not seen him without his shirt before. The sight of his youngly muscled upper body, with traces of growing hair on his chest and lower abdomen, flustered her more than it should have. There was no doubt he was growing into a fit, young dwarf, and the thought both frightened and excited her; she was afraid for her own maturing and what would happen to her own body, and she was excited that he was no longer the young, ugly boy she had met six years ago.

They had gotten to know each other more the last five years, since the death of his sister. She was uncertain if they were friends, but they challenged each other from time to time, with games or riddles. He always teased her and she always pretended she was smarter than him.

Looking at him now, she felt her heart beat faster and for the first time she didn't know what to say.

Thekk's smile stiffened slightly when she didn't reply, and he looked at her with a strange expression. «What's the matter with 'cha?»

Kíliel honestly did not know what was wrong with her, but she cleared her throat and entered the stall suddenly, pretending nothing was different as she began untangling the comb from his hair with careful fingers. She made sure not to touch the smooth, slightly freckled skin of his shoulders, even though she could feel his warmth, standing so close to him. The painful pressure grew again in her chest.

«There's nothing wrong with me,» she scoffed, partly for herself and partly for Thekk, as she bit down her groans and instinct to clasp both hands over her chest.

«Don't lie, Kíliel. There's always something wrong with 'cha,» he grinned and then groaned as she proceeded to work through his heavily tangled curls.

«You're right, because you are always what's wrong me with,» she teased back, feeling her heart beat slightly faster as she thought about it, but ignored her own weird behaviour as the pressure subsided. «You bring out the worst in me.»

«Mission accomplished, then,» he turned his head and winked at her.

Kíliel felt her cheeks burn as she tried to focus at her task at hand, and it proved quite impossible. Thekk had thicker hair than even her, and trying to comb it was like trying to cut fabric with a rock. But she refused to give up, so she began at the bottom and worked her way up, through all his locks of thick, brown hair.

Thekk was surprisingly quiet and still while she worked, with no more than a little flinch when she had to be rougher with the worst knots at the back of his head. He was also silent, which was especially unusual for him.

«They say havin' your beard combed is even worse than ya' hair,» he began quietly, his tone wondering and thoughtful. «I can't imagine anythin' to be worse than this.» He chuckled, and gazed at her as she stood beside him and worked on the knots behind his left ear.

«Mother says I probably won't grow a beard, but I'm far from mature, so I might yet,» Kíliel blurted out. Immediately she pressed her lips together. The shock of what she had just revealed to him hit her, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She wondered why she had told him that. She had not intended to reveal something so personal.

They often talked about this or that, but never anything too personal, as she was cautions about their parents' plans for them. Sometimes she didn't know if she should trust him or not, but being her only friend, she opened herself more and more to him. She needed someone to trust, someone who was not her family.

Thekk raised his eyebrows. He looked at her as she tried to focus on her work again.

«I won't mind if you don't grow a beard,» he suddenly said and shrugged, as if him having opinions about her appearance was nothing strange. But it was.

Kíliel froze for a second at his words, her eyes wide and unblinking as she thought about it. Why should he mind if she grew a beard or not? Because they were to be married? Would he be embarrassed to be married with her if she didn't grow a beard? The more she thought about it, the harder it was to breathe.

«Why not?» Was all she managed to ask, with thousand questions buzzing inside her head.

Thekk shrugged and looked away. «Why should I mind it? I'm marrying you, not your chin, with or without a beard.» He bit his lip, his brows furrowed as he looked back at her. «It doesn't change you if you have one or not, you'll still be Kíliel.»

She thought about it, but she didn't agree with him. It would change everything; anything that proved her a dwarf made a big difference. He couldn't understand, with being the perfect, dwarven prince, without manners or anything that made him royal, he was the one they had chosen for her to marry. In the Council's eyes he was the heir, while she was just a problem.

«It doesn't matter,» Kíliel bit down on her inner cheek. «Nobody knows anything about me, not you and not my mother, so we'll have to wait and see.»

«I'm probably not finished growin' before I'm forty. Dad says he was a late shiner, so I might be too,» Thekk said and pursed his lips. He then turned to her with a curious gaze and a little grin. «When do ya' think you're finished maturing'?»

He meant nothing by it, but Kíliel suddenly felt suffocated. Her damp hair and clothes clung to her skin, and she wished she could take it all off to breathe more easily. She exhaled heavily instead and rolled her neck to relax. She didn't know why she reacted this way, and this entire day was getting to her. She wished she could go to bed and sleep for a hundred years, then maybe everything would be fine.

When she didn't answer again, Thekk turned to her again. «You sure there's nothin' wrong with cha'? You're very quiet…»

«I don't know, okay?» She exclaimed in frustration, and yanked at a knot in the back of his neck so Thekk yelped in sudden pain.

«Hey,» he growled.

«I'm sorry,» Kíliel exhaled and began massaging his scalp where she had yanked. «I'm tired, thats all.»

«You could've just said, instead of scalping me,» Thekk muttered and looked at her with smiling eyes, to ease the tension between them. He didn't understand a thing of what was going on, but he knew it was better to ask for peace rather than war when dwarrowdames were mad. He reckoned it was the same for dwelfdames.

«I said I was sorry,» Kíliel pressed her lips together, and wished she had not entered Thekk's stall in the first place, but she had to finish her work, or he'd never let her hear the end of it. So she worked quickly to finish the little that was left.

Thekk sat quietly, touching the short stubbles on his chin like her father sometimes did. She knew it was a sign of nervousness, though she could not understand what he was thinking or what he was nervous about.

«Well, I… I sometimes fear that I won't grow a full beard,» he suddenly stuttered, and then shrugged.

Kíliel let her hands fall as she finished untangling his last lock of hair, and put down the comb on the little bench beside the stool where Thekk sat. She pressed her lips together, and turned away from him. An unexpected rage grew in her, and she could not fully understand it, all she knew was that he had said it to ease her embarrassment. And she was suddenly so angry she could not contain it.

Thekk turned and looked at her with a crooked expression. She stood turned away, with one hand on the top of the stall wall and the other in a tight fist. «You're done, and my parents are waiting for me,» she said through clenched teeth.

«Do ya' want me to comb yours before you go?» He asked her, as if his previous words were suddenly forgotten. He took the comb in his hand and stepped closer to her.

She turned to him abruptly. Angry tears were in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. «I promised mother to come straight back,» she said, even if she had wanted to scream at him. She turned to walk away from him and the stall.

Thekk stood left, and though he said nothing to stop her, she could feel his eyes burn holes in the back of her neck as she walked with quick and uneven steps away from him.

—

Kíliel did not explain to her parent's why she was so late, for they had to rush back to their chambers to prepare for the feast. She dreaded it, as she knew she would sit beside Thekk the whole night. She could not explain her reaction, and she had a feeling he had many questions.

«It always ends this way,» Náli exhaled frustrated while combing aggressively through Kíliel's still damp curls. The girl kept her mouth shut tightly even through the pain. «You don't think on your actions, and I am left with finding the solution. What am I supposed to do with this, naith?» The dry-nurse held up knotted locks of her hair with a hopeless expression, so Kíliel saw it in the mirror she stood in front of.

«I forgot the time,» Kíliel shrugged, but felt the guilt burn in her stomach for Náli's stress. «Mother was supposed to do it, but…» she trailed off, as she did not know how to end the sentence. She didn't even want to tell Náli about what had happened with Thekk, which meant it was really bothering her.

She was still wearing the damp bathing tunic, and it was only an hour before the horn would signal the beginning of the feast. It was no wonder Náli worried to get her finished for the celebration in time. She was the princess and one of the heirs of Erebor, so she was always on display during large, social gatherings. Everyone's eyes would be on her, the future queen, and so her hair could not be its usual, wild self. The dwarves of Erebor already mistrusted her for her unusual heritage, so looking like a dwarven princess was essential to show respect for their traditions.

«There's not much to do about that now,» Náli shook her head and sighed, though her expression eased ever so little, as she saw the guilty and distressed expression that grew on Kíliel's face. The dwarrowdam turned to her, and placing a hand on each side of her face, she kissed her forehead. «Don't worry, child. Change now, we'll see about that hair afterwards,» Náli smiled briefly, though warmly, and she turned quickly to fetch something from the other chamber.

The dry-nurse looked one last time upon the girl whom she had come to love as her own, and the despair in her chest was ever heavier as Kíliel grew more and more. She knew the girl would never lead an easy life, both as a dame and as the mistrusted heir.

Náli herself was a young dwarrowdam, unusually so for having a job away from the halls of her father, but it was with good reason. Her husband had fought in the Battle of the Five Armies, and died shortly after of a wound to his lungs that the healers could do nothing about. At that time Náli was with child, and in her sorrow she miscarried, and lost the child before it was even born. As a young widow of 79 winters, she struggled greatly the following years, with no purpose in her life. When Tauriel came to Erebor and gave birth, she volunteered to help take care of the unique and beautiful girl, whom others thought unnatural and unworthy. In this task Náli found her purpose again, and while being a help to Tauriel and Kíli, she became the friend and caretaker of Kíliel.

Kíliel sighed as Náli left the room, thinking that she would never look like a princess. She ripped her clothes off. Naked and bitter she stood in front of the mirror, biting on the inside of her cheek, thinking all her angry thoughts. She was no dwarf. She was beardless, hairless and…

Staring at herself in the mirror, she suddenly realised that it wasn't true. She stood staring at the mirrored image of herself, her tangled, damp hair hanging over her soft but small shoulders. Something had changed. She tilted her head slightly, trying to understand what it meant. After a moment she let her finger trace downwards from her bellybutton, feeling the soft down of hair where it had never been before, and now suddenly had appeared. She looked down on herself, and then up again at her reflection. It was red like her hair, but harder and softer at the same time as it grew in a downward direction.

Kíliel didn't know if she should laugh or cry, as thousands of emotions grew in her. Dwarves had hair covering their entire bodies, so unlike the elves whom had nothing except what grew on their heads. Now knowing that she had at least some of the visual evidence that made her more of a dwarf, it made her lighter than she had ever felt before.

At this new discovery she began studying the rest of her body as well, seeing if it had appeared anywhere else; on her legs, chest, under her arms or on her back. But it was only in the triangle between her hips that it had appeared, and she treasured it.

At continuing to study her body she noticed something else. As she let her hand caress over her chest, she felt the same pain as before in the bathing hall. The pain was coming from the two slight bulges that had suddenly appeared there, and Kíliel could scream for her excitement. Her chest was no longer completely flat like a boy's. She knew what this all meant, the growth of hair and breasts, and she grinned sheepishly.

She had finally begun maturing. Iznêd, as it was named in Khuzdul.

Kíliel stepped even closer to the mirror, so that she stood tight against it. She stared at herself, held her own gaze for a long time, blinking amazed as she thought about it. Who knew what could happen to her? Maybe she would grow tall like an elf, or wide as a dwarf, or both. She giggled at the thought. Her smiled widened even more as she had another thought, and she whispered to herself: «Maybe I'll even grow a beard,» and she sighed, not wanting to trust the hope too much.

It was while she studied herself so that Náli reentered the room.

«Kíliel, why are you not dressed? There's a mere thirty minutes 'til the feast,» the dry-nurse said exasperated and placed a bundle of thread and hair-bands on the bed.

At that Kíliel turned to her, and stood silent while Náli looked at her with a puzzled expression. Finally she saw, and her expression softened into a happy smile, immediately shaded with worry and despair, though she kept it thoroughly hidden from the excited girl. She only smiled, and stepping closer to Kíliel she hugged her tightly, and stroke her cheek.

At that moment Tauriel stepped through the chamber door, dressed in a beautiful, green tunic designed after the dwarven pattern, with white, silk trousers underneath. Her hair was braided into three braids, with two hanging down beside her face and one on her back. The top of her hair was braided with small braids like a crown around her head, which collected at the back.

Now seeing her daughter, still naked, embracing her dry-nurse, Tauriel cleared her throat, more as a reaction to an unexpected sight than an interruption. Both Kíliel and Náli turned to her suddenly, and the dwarf backed instinctually away, as to give way for the mother.

Tauriel and Náli had a close relationship, as Náli's offer to help her with the raising of her child had been a great relief to Tauriel in her early years living in Erebor, a strange, new place surrounded by dwarves whom mostly mistrusted her. They confided in each other, and while Tauriel loved Náli for teaching her about the dwarven culture and the language, Náli loved Tauriel for giving her friendship and the permission to love Kíliel as her own. They respected and trusted each other, and that was why it was not strange for Tauriel to see the two embracing. However she did not approve of Kíliel's indecency, being an elf and strictly schooled in manners, whereas dwarves were a bit more carefree on the subject.

«Kíliel, you are no longer a child, and parading around in nothing but your hair is not…,» Tauriel began in her motherly strict voice, before she laid eyes on her child, and noticed, as Náli had, the changes in the girl. The words suddenly stuck in her throat, and she felt her heart fall heavy in her chest, realising, as she had said, that Kíliel was no longer a child. Indeed she was maturing, and this was unwelcome news for the elf, whom only desire was to protect and love the girl, away from the harshness of the world.

«The Iznêd has begun, and it is the great journey that will transform you into your true self, Kíliel,» Náli began and placed a hand on Tauriel's arm. «Kulhu Mahal id-abkhân masan.»

Kíliel lowered her gaze then suddenly, and staring at the floor she muttered: «I have still not bled.»

At this a great smile stretched on Tauriel's face, proud and nostalgic as only a mother could be at this time in her daughter's life. Tears collected in her eyes as she stepped towards Kíliel and placed her hands on the girls cheeks.

«My Starlight. Indeed you are no longer a child. You are changing, and that is a blessing,» Tauriel caressed her cheeks as she held her daughter close. «But do not be so quick to grow. Illuvatar made everything, and by His song we live our lives. Trust him, if nothing else, and know that in your time you will grow exactly as is planned for you, my dear Iellig, and know that you will always be my daughter, no matter how much you grow,» Tauriel laughed sweetly and kissed both of Kíliel's cheeks. The girl laughed and hugged her mother tightly, and Tauriel cared little that her hair was still wet and would leave stains on her fine tunic.

Náli observed them silently, and felt the love she bore for them both beat in her heart.

Tauriel finally loosened her hold on her daughter, and holding her in front of her, she caressed her face and smiled exasperated. «And now we must do something about your hair.»