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In a past life he may have built homes with his bare hands, laying stone upon stone and weaving thatch roofs. He may have gone back to an empty house of his own, with drafty rooms and dusty heirlooms. It couldn't have been too different from what his life is now. He thinks that it's not unlikely, that he's lived other lives in this way, because it's so familiar to him despite the fact that he's only been adjusting to this lifestyle for the past six months.
Kili sits alone in his apartment and stares out over the city, knowing somewhere beyond the endless sea of buildings there is a sky without clouds or smog. The city doesn't allow for a clear view of the stars but there's money here, there is more construction work in the city than in the small town his family had settled in. He's never been much good at anything else, his hands are too big and clumsy for the delicate craftwork that his mother does. Kili knows he's nowhere near smart enough or level headed enough to go into business like his brother Fili.
So he moved to the city, alone, and has been doing fairly well for himself. He works hard and he's friendly, so the other workers like him even if he comes across a little country bumpkin at times. He'd nearly been tricked into a slummy rental before one of his bosses had pulled some strings to get him into his current apartment. It's nothing grand but the kitchen works and there's a huge window that looks over the west side of the city. The sunsets aren't as beautiful here as they are at home, but the air pollution disperses the colors and the buildings cast long shadows that look like crawling dark fingers. Kili has grown a bit fond of the strange, otherworldly sky. But he cannot see the stars, and that is why he goes to the observatory on the weekends.
He heads out an hour before sunset every Saturday. It sits about fifteen miles outside of the city limits in a mostly undeveloped field that holds only the observatory itself and a worn down patch of earth that serves as the parking lot. During the weekdays it's busy, filled with children on field trips and the occasional truant high schooler. Kili thinks he would have been one of those high schoolers, glassy eyed with old bruises and wrinkled astronomy pamphlets stuffed into his pockets. He isn't the only one who has found comfort in the vast expanse of space, that wondrous eternity filled with stars.
He does not come to the observatory to catch a glimpse of the pretty redheaded curator who rarely wanders the halls during the day. He has only spotted her a handful of times, lit by the fake starlight of the omnitheatre as she fiddles with some electronic thing in the dark. The other employees know Kili quite well by now and they only give him vague smiles when he asks about her.
He does not go to see her but if he does it's just an added bonus to his day. Kili goes mostly to see the stars, or whatever facsimile of them is available when the weather conditions are bad enough. When the sun sets the patrons all crowd out onto the balcony that wraps around the building and tour guides point out different constellations and name each star, the type of star they are, how each star dies and how they could be viewing a billion dead lights due to the way light travels through space. It's depressing, but so incredibly interesting.
Kili has heard it all before. Over the course of the past few months he's found a corner of the balcony that's left mostly empty, part of a narrow walkway that only allows for a few people to stand at a time. He leans forward against the railing and stares up at the moon. It's waning and there's only a thin sliver of it left, barely enough to light the ground. This part of the balcony faces away from the city, so the sky is clearer and there are more stars.
He knows the myths of Andromeda and Cassiopeia and the countless other Greek legends, but in the back of his mind there are other names that pull at him. Names no history book has ever mentioned, myths that no man has ever penned. Kili keeps these names locked upon his tongue. He doesn't know where they came from but they belong to him and he will keep them where they belong.
Something shifts in the corner of his eye and Kili tilts his head just slightly, catching red in the shadows. He doesn't call out to her and she doesn't move from where she's standing, hidden in the dark and breathing so quietly that he can't hear her.
"You come every Saturday. Why?" She asks. Kili is startled to hear her voice but he smiles anyway, hiding it by bringing a hand to his chin. He hasn't shaved in weeks and his hair is pulled loosely back, he's sure he looks like a mess, but this is the first time she's ever spoken to him.
"You can see the stars here, of course. I can't see them in the city. Too much light pollution." He states the obvious even though he knows it's not the answer she's looking for. She huffs out a sigh, it could be a laugh or some sign of irritation. He can't tell.
"Why so much time just for the stars?" She doesn't let any emotion through and it's a bit startling, how someone can speak without giving a single hint of what they're thinking. Nonetheless the question stumps him for a moment. Of course it's because he likes the stars, but why does he make the effort just to see little pinpoints of light?
"They're...comforting. They're nearly constant, you would know. Just because the earth shifts doesn't mean they're gone. And yeah, maybe some of them are long dead, but I won't know that until I'm long dead too, so really they're just--" he cuts himself off before he starts babbling and takes a deep breath. After a moment, he speaks again.
"There are stories in my head. Constellations that aren't greek, I dunno what they are. But there's a whole lot of them and I like to look at the stars and try to remember them all." He points at a cluster of stars that looks vaguely like a cart. "That one there. And the one next to it, that looks like a little stick pony."
"The harvester's cart," she says softly, and Kili startles because he hadn't heard her coming closer, "and his cursed daughter."
"How did you..." Kili turns to face her and finds that she's staring at him with vibrant green eyes, her mouth pulled into a taut line. Something about her seems off, like she's much older than she is, but she looks like she could barely be in her late twenties. She's also a bit taller than him, only by a few inches, and her hair is pulled out of her face in a tight braid but she is so incredibly stunning and he still doesn't even know her name.
"I'm Kili." He blurts, and he's so thankful for his scruffy beard because it's hiding his awful blush.
"I know." She tells him, and something in her posture tenses before relaxing again. "You come around often enough."
Kili flounders for a moment, because he wants to know how she knew about the stories and he wants to know her name and of course he starts worrying about whether or not he showered that morning (he did) and whether or not he buttoned his shirt right (he didn't). His embarrassment must be obvious because her mouth finally splits into something like a smile.
"I'm Tauriel. It's good to see you again."" If Tauriel realizes what a strange greeting that is she doesn't acknowledge it. Her lips are curved just slightly upwards and the starlight catches on the clips holding back her wayward hair. Kili steps forwards slightly and extends a hand, which she takes with a wary grip.
"I guess I'll see you around?" It's a hopeful thing, his heart fluttering, and Kili's jaw hurts from the enormity of his smile. Tauriel gives him a short nod and steps away.
"Every Saturday."
"Yes. Every Saturday."
It's only after Tauriel leaves that Kili realizes he never got his answers.