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Kíli was starting to have doubts.

Of course, courting a human girl from another realm was due to be more complicated than any courting lessons might have prepared him for. His mother and his tutor could not have possibly predicted this situation. But here it was.

Ever since Gandalf had introduced Maeve to the Company during their gathering at Mr. Baggin's hole (or smial as he insisted), Kíli had been smitten . His usual swagger had left him and he had been utterly defeated. Her eyes, the first thing he had noticed about her, reminded him of jewels. And her hair! How his fingers had twitched in the following months with longing! If he could but once stroke her brown locks. Often he would lie at night in his bedroll and watch the back of her head imaging countless braiding styles, imagining which one would suit her best... Of course, in his heart, he could find no better pattern for her hair than his own braid. Each dwarf would come up with his own braid pattern. It was usually a variation of the family braid altered with an individual twist to fit a dwarf's personality or craft.

Of course, Kíli held no hope to ever grace her hair with his braid. No maiden would ever accept the suit of a beardless dwarf. Kíli was certainly not a handsome dwarf even less so a Prince Charming as she had called those from her world's stories. It seems like Kíli had never grown out of his awkward face even though he was very much of age, thank you very much.

He was too tall, too slender, his traits too fine. He had hoped that maybe, to human standards he would be acceptable. Not handsome but maybe good enough for her. He had no idea what a human from another world could find attractive in a mate. She had shown them some very realistic paintings on the most bizarre device possible. The pictures had depicted her brothers, her parents and some of her friends. All the males were quite tall. And bearded. He sombered.

His beard. A shame really. He wished his short beard was just the result of a choice like his uncle had after the loss of Erebor. After reclaiming the Mountain, his uncle had started to grow his beard again and it soon become worthy of the king of the Longbeards clan. Or maybe he could have a decent mustache, not unlike his brother. As a dwarfling, he had been called an elf more than once and when every young dwarrows had started to take an interest in the dwarrowdams of their age, he didn't.

He received some courtship proposals, as any prince could expect, but always insincere. His uncle had warned him about those. Hence, he turned to a craft and built up a strong armor of humor and cheerful personality to guard his heart. He soon became an accomplished jeweler and appreciated prince. His creations had made his mother's eyes sparkle with proudness. She was the only dame he had ever gifted jewelry.

Oh! Jewelry! How beautiful a sapphire necklace would look on Maeve’s neck! He knew she liked jewelry. His brother had innocently asked her about it one night. When she had said that she indeed loved jewelry, his brother beamed at him. Kíli, as often when she was involved, grew as red as a garnet, looking down and playing with his fingers. She didn't know his craft was jewelry making of course but now the thought was rooted in his mind. And soon, his dreams of braiding her hair were accompanied by dreams of adorning her with necklaces, rings, and ankle bracelets. Her favorite types of jewelry she had confessed to him in private. He was particularly flustered at the idea of ankle bracelets. Gold would suit her the best he thought. With her tanned skin and chestnut hair. It would also match the jewelry she already had. She only wore a necklace (a simple cord and trinket depicting the island she hailed from) and a gold ring.

Her ring was most fascinating! It had the shape of two hands holding a crowned heart. The craft was not the best. He could do much better without a sweat but the gold ring was made beautiful by its sheer simplicity. He had paled when, burning curiosity, he had asked her about it and she said it was a courting ring. Despair! Agony! He knew this instant she was his One cause surely a simple infatuation could not make him feel as he was cut in two. He'd rather go throw himself to the orc pack surrounding Beorn's house.

She laughed at his expression and explained that she was not being courted at the moment (he breathed more easily at this) but the way of wearing her ring would indicate her marital status. Worn the heart pointing outside on her right hand meant she was not involved but pointing inside, she was being courted. If worn on the left hand, each position would either mean she was betrothed or married. It was strange, to convey this through a ring instead of bead but it was a beautiful tradition.

She had handed him the ring, telling him it had belonged to the great grandmother of her great grandmother and was passed from mothers to daughters. His sense of metal had told him that the ring was at least 200 years old. An impressive fit for a human family. It must have been passed through numerous hands. When he was about to slip the ring back on her, he had stopped. Usually, he would have cracked a joke, pretending to slip it on the wrong hand or in the wrong position and laughed it off. But with her, it was like all his hard-built confidence and humor melted like snow. He didn't want this to be a joke. He had her so very small hand in his and it was hard to breathe . How easy it would be. The temptation was grand. But he couldn't. He was unfit. His uncle wouldn't approve. She had her world to return to. So he slipped the ring in the same position: not involved. Not his. And she started to breathe again. When had she stopped? Had she felt his hesitation? Had she hoped he had done something else? Or... Had she feared he would do something else? He dared not to give it too much thought.

So he remained afar. Well... Not too much. They were friends after all. He was proud to say he was the one she spent the most time within the Company. He would be his best friend in this world. But nothing more. Except it didn't go this way.

As he had lied on a table in a human house of Laketown, they had shared their first kiss and amongst all the pain, his heart soared. She had noticed him. Better! She had feelings for him! She had told him so after the Battle, at Ravenhill. He had been so scared of losing her but not nearly as much as she had been scared to lose him. Apparently, he was supposed to die this day, along with his brother and uncle. She had saved them. And she had accepted his suit. It was all that mattered now.

He quickly offered her his courtship gift: a gift of his craft. A sapphire necklace fit for a princess. The first jewel forged in Erebor for nearly 200 years. With the benediction of his uncle and soon, of his mother.

Their courtship was happy. Truly the happiest courtship a dwarf could hope for. But maybe he was sided. All his presents were accepted with astonishment and pleasure. At one point, he had to explain the process of a dwarfish courtship. That, technically, she hadn't accepted his courtship yet, just hadn't rejected it, since she hadn't offered him back a gift of her own craft. She flustered and proceeded to create something for him, for his utmost pleasure .

She was a knitter. And she knitted beautifully. Ori, who was also versed in this art, had marveled at her creations. She gathered yarn and knitted him a scarf. His very own courtship gift. He cried with joy when she had offered it to him. He had never hoped to know a moment like this: a lady presenting him a courting gift. Since that moment, he had worn his scarf and all her other gifts proudly, cherishing them.

Since she had gotten her hands on yarn, she had thrown herself in her art to keep herself busy. She drew patterns and instructions that she sold to dwarrowdams. Sometimes, she knitted the garments herself to sell them . Her originality made her little business a true success. He was worried at first that she thought he could not provide for her but she told him that in her world, it was expected from women to earn their money and she took great pleasure in her craft. That, he could understand. So he watched and took great joy in seeing her bloom amongst his people.

As the courtship progressed in the following months, he was getting antsy. They had fallen into a routine and while his presents grew more complex, hers remained simple. Mittens, scarfs, decorative pieces for his room . He had numerous. She was more and more uncomfortable when he offered her his gifts. Usually, stopping to offer gifts or making a fuss about accepting them meant the person would prefer to end the courting. But at the same time, she would say to him that her feelings for him were stronger than ever . She would kiss him... So passionately. She had started to welcome her in her bedroom, without a chaperon. And while he could not let things go too far (his mom would have his head if she he knew), he could feel that she wanted it as much as him. And he craved it.

All of this was so complicated it made his head ache. He wanted a meaningful present of her craft. She didn't make male sweaters but surely, she could make an exception for him! He didn't know what to do. He had gone to his mother as he always did when he had troubles with a lady. She had listened to him and understood his frustration. Of course, he let out the more comprising details. He didn't want to know that he had comprised the honor of his dame. She had told him that he could absolutely not demand a gift. That would just not be acceptable. She told him: "if you want to understand your human girl, gulmalûmê, you'll have to ask her."

So he did. That evening, he went straight to the boudoir adjoining her bedroom. They spent most of their time here. As usual, when they tried to keep up the appearances, Fíli officiated as their chaperon. Sat in a corner of the room with a book, he pretty much tactfully ignored them. She was currently working on a new drawing of a sweater. They conversed for a while but the idle chat soon died out. Fíli gave him a side-eye. Usually, they would not shut up, making it hard for him to read. Kíli took a breath. It wasn't that hard. He just had to ask if maybe it was for him. He did so, with a smile and a wink. She laughed and blushed beautifully. Sadly, she said no. Apparently, it wouldn't be appropriate for her to knit for a male. Before he could ask why, she priestly asked him about his day. He was disappointed but he had gotten an explanation. There was a reason for all of this however obscure it was. He let her change the subject and enjoyed the rest of his evening with his ibin abnâmul.

All of it could have been settled. He couldn't pretend to understand all of her culture. With hindsight, his own was certainly quite complicated as well. But a few days ago, an event changed all of his perspectives. Hence, he was having doubts.

"So you're telling me that she was... knitting? 

- She was.

- But she's always knitting, nadad.

- You don’t say! he exclaimed, exasperated by his brother's nonchalance. But this time, s he was knitting a sweater for Ori. She was knitting a sweater for a male!"

Fíli exploded with laughter.

"So you’re jealous! Ye are really jealous! Tis' truly hilarious!

- You do not understand. I asked her a while ago why she wouldn't knit a sweater for me. T'would be a meaningful gift of her craft. She told me that she could not knit a sweater for a male, that t’was improper.

- Are you sure ye are not reading too much out of this?

- What... What if she's trying to reject me? What if all this time, the small gifts, the shyness when I present her mine ... What if all this time, she just didn't know how to reject me? Maybe she thinks she won't be able to stay in Erebor if we're not together... I knew I was not suited for her and now she...

- Hey, Kíli! Kíli. You need to calm yourself down. She loves you. Tis’ obvious given how ye two are with each other, always touching and holding yer hands. Trust me, I know. During the quest, she told me she loved ye almost instantly.

- Did she? he asked hopefully.

- Kíli. You've always doubted yourself. But I never of ye. If Mahal made ye how ye are, t’was for her. You two were written.

- I... I don't know anymore Fíli.

- That's because you’re a stupid dwarf, nadadê. Trust me on this. I think tis’ just miscommunication. It happens to you two all the time."

That much was true. One time, during a stroll, he had thoughtlessly picked up a handkerchief she had dropped and given it back to her. She had turned crimson. He had been quite amused to learn that it was essentially a very old-fashioned and romantic gesture. Earthians were very weird.

He was going to ask her. Once and for all. Straightforward. Like the prince of the line of During he was. Now, he just needed to knock on the damn door. They were going to be alone tonight so it was the perfect occasion. He felt nearly as nervous as the day he had asked her to accept his courtship. Everything could end tonight. A life with her. Or alone for the rest of his days. Dwarrows only loved once.

Maeve opened the door of her bedroom with a grand beam and he could not help but smile back.

"Kíli! I've missed you so much today ! Come in, please."

As soon as she closed the door behind him, she grabbed his neck and kissed him. He closed his eyes and kissed back. How could he not? With his One in his arms, kissing him senselessly? She started to play with his hair at the base of his neck and a moan escaped him. He moaned and grabbed her waist, his own hand going to her hair. He loved her hair. And feeling the braids in her hair, especially the courtship braid he had placed himself here... It was coming undone. He would have to remake it soon he tought. Or not he remembered. Tonight might be the night she would unravel it definitely. And while he wanted nothing more than to press her against him, he pushed her back breathlessly. He needed to keep a level head if he wanted to have this conversation. And talking of his failing courtship with a growing stiffness in his trousers was not the good way to do it.

"I'm sorry, A mhuirnín, I got carried away. I should not have pounced on you like that. she apologized while biting her lip.

- Not that I minded, ghivashel . he smiled sadly . But there's something important I need to talk to ye about. Very important.

- Oh. It sounds terribly serious. You know you can tell me everything, my dear."

She lead them to a love seat and sat them, her hands in his. He should probably not hold them but if he didn't, he was sure they would be shaking. Mahal help him. If he was to know this instant if she was going to reject him, he would need all the courage he could gather. After a deep breath, he began :

"Maeve, you know I love you. I also know that things are different for you."

She tried to interrupt him but Kíli didn't let her.

"No. Please. I need to get this through. You’re human and from another world on top of that. You explained how courting goes in yer world and things could not be more different. I know what ye would expect regarding time spent together, length of a relationship before any officialization and also... Intimacy."

Both of them blushed. Kíli from awkwardness, Maeve cause he could not be more adorable if he tried.

"And that things are not how you would have expected a courtship to be as a child. It certainly is for me too. And to be honest, I'm starting to have doubts."

Maeve smile fell. Tears filled her eyes almost instantly and she swiped her hands out of his violently, leaving his empty. It was bound to happen. Kíli was a prince. She was a commoner. And not just a commoner (after all, Kate Middleton was a commoner) but she was poor, human and alien. And he was a dwarf, meant to live much longer than she would. And if in her eyes, Kíli was a tremendously handsome man, she could not possibly be beautiful by dwarf standards. She was too tall, too slender, her traits too fine and she was beardless. If someone had told her back in her world she would one day wish she had a beard, she would have doubted them alright. Why would Kíli burden himself with an unworthy, unlovable alien human? If it could make sense on the road, filled with danger, as the only girl and the attract of novelty, the safety and routine of Erebor must have made him realize that his feelings were not as deep as he had thought. She was just a friend. Kíli could not even look her in the eyes, keeping them down on his fumbling hands.

"Ye are my badgûna. My One. It means a lot for us dwarrows. I want to make ye my wife, forge a life and a family with ye. I will never wish it with another for I could love no other. Tis our way. But... If ye decide that you want to end our courtship, I would leave ye be. I only wish for ye to be happy and if you would be happier without me, I would abide your wish. Ye are kin to us. Ye will always have a place in this Halls. Now please, amrâlimê, tell me: do you love me as I love ye?"

Maeve was lost for words. Where she had expected rejection, maybe promises of staying her friend... She was met with longing, supplication and self-sacrifice. It made absolutely no sense and stupidly, s the dumbest question possible.

"You... Want to marry me?

- Well... Hum yes. I would. But only if ye want to of course. And courtship hasn't been going good lately."

It hasn't? Oh. Okay. Now she knew what was happening. It was obviously a case of misunderstanding. It happened to them all the time. Like that time when she had told him she loved his stubble and he had thought she was making fun of him. She took back his hands in her, causing him to take a sharp breath, his hands clutching and for the first time she noticed how shaky he was.

"Kíli, sweetheart. Please. Explain to me exactly what made you doubt my feelings for you and why you think our courtship is going bad. I fear there must be a misunderstanding between us."

This was not going how Kíli had expected. She was calling him her usual endearing terms. And her thumb stroking circles on his hand was not how he imagined a lady would reject an unwanted suitor. A misunderstanding gave him so much hope! Maybe all was not lost.

"Well, when I present you my gifts, you always seem so embarrassed. And you don't want my gifts... It made me wonder if maybe you didn't know how to reject me.

- Oh Kíli... Your gifts are always so beautiful and I love them. But...I feel insecure. By my world standards, we wouldn't be dating, well... Courting for long. It would be too soon, too much to offer so many gifts and so precious ones at that. I know it's different for your people. It's part of the seduction whereas, for us, it's… not as important as for you. In a sens, we are much more complicated and not as straightforward. So it's a bit weird for me to be gifted such precious jewels. And I can't make or pay for gifts nearly as beautiful as yours. I can only... Offer your my time, my support and my love. And certainly, I haven’t been trying to find a way to reject you, my love.

- You could knit me a sweater. He mumbled.

- Come again?

- Ye could make a sweater. I'm wondering why ye refuse to knit a sweater for me. Ye told me t’was cause I'm a male but ye're making one for Ori.

- You... You thought I wanted to leave you because I didn't knit you a sweater? "

Maeve made him a face and burst out laughing making his ears heat. Kíli crossed his arms on his chest, vexed. If she didn't want to reject, her behavior had no possible explanation he decided.

"It's a significant gift of your craft! he defended himself.

- It's not appropriate for a courting gift. she cut him.

- Ye're saying that again! But ye're making one for Ori! I know he likes knitting garments but... Ye're my One. So of course I would like a sweater from ye for our courting!"

She bit her lips. When he had asked her the question, she had tried to deflect it but it seems she had only made it worse. She had to explain now but... She was a bit ashamed.

"Hum... It's silly really you know. No need to make a fuss out of it. Tis’ just... It's because of... The curse."

Of all her possible answers, Kíli had not expected a curse to be the one.

"A curse? he asked slowly.

- It's a superstition from my world. The sweater curse. It’s stupid really. If a knitter knits a sweater for their significant other before they are married, their partner will leave them before the sweater is finished." she blurted.

After a moment of stunned silence, the dwarf burst out laughing and now it was Maeve’s turn to feel her ears grow red. She felt stupid enough, no need for her boyfriend to make fun of her. Kíli, in fact, was not making fun of her at all. Relief had swept through him like a balm.

"So... Ye’re telling me that ye were trying to protect our relationship because ye thought I would leave ye because of a sweater? That's it?

- Humm yes. It's silly I know but... I've seen it happen before and I didn't wanna risk it. I want nothing more than to make a sweater for you. I've got so many special ideas but... Not before we're married.

- So… I get that ye actually want to marry me? he asked with a smirk, not serious at all.

- Is that an official demand? Maeve asked with an arched eyebrow. Because I expect a proper proposal.

- Of course not! I'm a proper dwarrow. I could not ask my lady to marry me without a bead.

- You also need a ring.

- A ring? Ye already have one. he said, playing with the golden band and her right hand. What is a proper proposal according to your strange traditions?”

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn and he was determined to gather as much information as possible.

“In my world, the man has to get down on one knee with a ring. If the woman accepts, the ring goes on the annular and you are engaged.

- That's it?

- That's it. Well, that’s about it. The ring usually has a lone diamond but not necessarily. It should be sophisticated but simple enough to be worn every day and match the wedding ring." she said as she played with their hands.

Kíli was giddy. He was supposed to finish this evening in a tavern drink away his sorrow with his brother and instead, his badgûna was practically giving him permission to ask for her hand! He had to ask. He would not let another misunderstanding alter their relationship.

"Is it me or are you listing your requests?

- Hum. Maybe... I am.

- So... You wouldn't oppose if, in the near future, I'd ask that...?" he lingered.

She took a deep breath. It was a major decision. Essentially giving him her benediction. Was she ready for this? They had been dating for less than a year. But they had been through so much together. A quest, a dragon and a war...

"By my world standards, it'd be madness but... I cannot imagine loving anyone as much as I love you. And if you say I'm your One. Then... why not?"

She concluded with her eyes cast down and biting the inside of her cheeks. She dared not to look at his reaction. Kíli on his side was overjoyed! So happy he could hardly believe it! All the anxiety of the last weeks had vanished with these few words. How simple it had been! He laughed hysterically and picked her up, making her twirl. She laughed as well but he cut her with a kiss. They were smiling so much it hardly count as one. He took her head in his hands and put his forehead on her in an intimate dwarven gesture.

"Oh ghivashel, I'm gonna make you the best proposal from all the worlds!"

Kíli's emotion was palpable, his heart soaring. Maeve wasn't fairing much better. She felt tears on her cheeks and at the same time she couldn't stop laughing. He kissed her again with abandon. He flushed her against him without restrain this time. Both of her hands went straight to his neck, the spot that drew his mad. He put one hand in her hair, the other boldly stroking her ribs under her breasts.

Their embrace was too long, too passionate to be proper in any way. But who cared? He loved this dame. And she loved him! Enough to give him her hand! Each of her gestures, her breaths, her sounds made his head swirl. Her lips had traveled away from his mouth, kissing his jawline… Mahal. He whined when she began to kiss his neck. Nothing, not even her hands in his hair, could have prepared him for the sensuality of feeling her lips kissing his beard. It was otherworldy. He was panting and quickly losing control. With a groan, he drew away and took her hands in his, to hold them between them. It took them a second to find their breath and sanity.

" Ghivashel , Mahal knows I want ye but we gotta calm down before we do something we regret."

- I would never regret it. And who cares? We are practically engaged after all."

Kíli sat them back on the couch and placed her legs on his lap. He started to unravel her courting braid, eager to rebraid it and, deep down, restake his claim. Maeve pouted.

"Practically. But it matters.

- There are things we can do without going... Too far. she teased, playing with a thread of his hair. But he was determined to not let himself be swayed.

- So a sweater has to wait for the wedding but not necessarily sex? he laughed.

- Exactly! But okay! You're right of course. I won’t bother you anymore with that."

She kissed him lightly. No matter how hard she wanted him and she would never pressure him for more. Waiting for the honeymoon felt deliciously romantic. She loved his respectful, proper prince side. It was a different aspect of his personnality than the one he usually showed others, playful and humorous. Kíli had so much more layers than most people thought. He was fun but also level-headed when needed, responsible and attentive. If his playfulness had teased her interest, his good heart had won him hers. She couldn't wait to see how he would be as a husband. A side only her would know she thought happily. Husband… It sounded so alien and felt so right.

" I already know what sweater I'm making you. she distracted herself.

- Do you?

- A traditional deep green cabled sweater.

- Can you make it blue?

- No. I'mma make a proper Irish fella out of ye, A rúnsearc. So green it is." she said with a drawl.

He pouted.

"But the next one could be blue.

- I'll have the best wardrobe of Erebor! he boasted with a huge grin.

- Only if I get a grand proposal.

- Humm... Tell me more about this betrothal ceremony of yours.”

Translations:

From Kíli : Khuzdhul

From Marve: Irish gaelic

gulmalûmê: my tiny speckle (for children)

ibin abnâmul : beautiful gem

Nadad : brother

nadadê : brother of mine

badgûna: dream-lady literally, very romantic way to say One

A mhuirnín: darling

ghivashel: treasure of treasure

amrâlimê : love of mine

A rúnsearc: beloved