a_littlefaith | (june)

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kili

(june)

It's possible Beth is drunk.

She hadn't really meant to, she doesn't drink a whole lot, tends to refuse the offers to buy her something whenever she plays a show. She doesn't like the taste of beer, which makes it easy enough to avoid drinking at home, since that's pretty much the only thing Daryl has. It's just that there's that box of moonshine still stored in the back of the closet, kept high enough to be out of Judith's reach, and on the rare occasion Beth needs to get something out of the closet, she catches sight of the box and it reminds her of her father.

Daddy always said bad moonshine'd make you go blind.

She hasn't gone blind yet. After the night in the cabin with Daryl, given how much of that stuff she'd had, she figures she probably won't go blind from a drink or two, but she just doesn't bother with it most of the time. She just doesn't care. Alcohol isn't that interesting to her.

But sometimes she sees the box and all the emotions of that time come rushing back at her, the grief that had come with the loss of her father, the anger she had felt, how childish it had all been. It makes her laugh a little most of the time, but today something else had seized her and she'd picked up one of the jars instead of just shutting the closet and moving on.

And now she's drunk. She's drunk texting Kili from outside his apartment building, sending him poop emojis and cats with heart eyes and a funny little man who looks like maybe he's taking a bow, she can't be sure, but she just wants him to come outside to meet her.

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The emoji-filled texts aren't exactly what Kili would call peculiar, seeing as this is very much the way he and Beth often tend to communicate, but they are coming rather rapidly and at a somewhat unusual time of day. He's meant to be washing the dishes now that Fili's left after joining him for dinner and Tauriel has gone out to one of her classes but instead, Kili stares at his messages from Beth before giving in to the strange instinct he has and peering out the window of the apartment.

Down at the bottom, as he'd expected (though he isn't entirely certain why or how), is his dear friend, looking the slightest bit off-balance in front of Candlewood. With the corners of his lips twitching in an amused smile, he responds to Beth's most recent text with an emoji of a running man, which he suspects she'll understand well enough. Briefly sparing a glance at the dirty dishes in the sink, he shrugs a shoulder, figuring he'll either be able to get back to it before Tauriel arrives or explain that he simply couldn't leave Beth alone in front of the building for too long. Either way, he thinks he'll be just fine.

"Beth?" he calls once he's outside, approaching her with a warm smile. "This is an unexpected visit. Not that you'll find me complaining, mind, I am always so very glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you," Beth answers, pointing her finger at Kili and then leaning in to press it against the tip of his nose. She's been told she's a bit of a melancholy drunk and she supposes maybe that's true, she only tends to drink in those rare moments when she feels truly sad and lost, as if there's nothing else she can do to escape it. Beth is prone to sadness, just like anyone else, but she isn't often prone to real melancholy. Not like this.

This only comes on when she really thinks about how much she's lost and how much she misses her family. She'd lost them all, one by one, over the course of just a few years. Back home in Georgia there's only Maggie left, Maggie and Glenn, and with the way things are going, she doesn't really think she'll ever see them again. Daryl and Carl and Judith are her family, too, Kili and Olive and all the people she's come to love in Darrow, but it isn't the same. They can't replace her mother and her father, they can't bring back Shawn.

"I drank some moonshine," she tells him. "It tastes awful."

It's not as if they aren't comfortable being physical with each other, their greetings do often consist of hugs and if every they end up spending time together on a couch, they inevitably drift closer together until one of them is resting their head on the shoulder of the other. Still, he goes cross-eyed when she taps her finger against his nose before raising his brows at her in mild amusement. Beth doesn't need to tell him she's been having liquor, Kili can smell it, though he can't place it until she helpfully supplies her drink of choice.

"Moonshine," he echoes. She's told him of the drink before, though he's yet to taste it himself. Typically, he wouldn't be very concerned at all for anyone who'd indulged in a few drinks, it would greatly hypocritical of him, indeed; but with Beth, it's a bit different. She doesn't drink often, even when others are drinking in her presence, and Kili cannot help but wonder what had driven her to it this evening.

"Would you like to come up?" he asks, tilting his head at her. "Or if you'd rather go elsewhere, I'll be happy to follow you."

When Kili asks, Beth opens her mouth to respond, then pauses, a hand on her hip as she considers. Now that he's mentioned two options -- going up to his place or going out somewhere else -- she really isn't sure what she wants to do or what the point of any of this was.

A way to be closer to her father somehow, which is silly. Her father was an alcoholic, he didn't want any of his children drinking, and doing so that night in the cabin had been rebellion born out of her anger at having lost him. But somehow it feels right all the same and she doesn't know how to explain it.

"Maybe let's go upstairs," she decides. "I don't think I need another drink. Unless you wanna go get one. I can come with you."

Shaking his head at the suggestion that he might want to seek out a drink, Kili takes her hand and nods toward the building. "Inside," he tells her. "I have ale in the refrigerator if I want it and in any case, I think it would be best to get you some water sooner rather than later."

It's not as if the alcohol has made Beth wild, she's hardly drunk to the point of looking to start any fights, as Kili has been many times (due to his brother's influence in his earlier years, he would always make sure to point out to their mother). Still, he wants to be sure she doesn't have many regrets in the morning so going up to the apartment seems to be the best option.

Nobody is in the lobby when they step into Candlewood, and they take the elevator straight up to the top floor. It's finally gotten to be habit, pressing the button for the twelfth floor rather than the sixth, and Kili wastes no time in marching straight for his door with Beth in tow.

"Come on, now," he says, glancing up at her with a smile that's only the slightest bit teasing. "I believe I have leftover pizza or if you'd rather, I can make us popcorn and you find us an awful film to put on while we have ourselves a chat."

"Ooh, pizza," Beth says, following Kili willingly enough, trusting him to lead her wherever they need to go. It's nice having a friend like him, someone she trusts as blindly and as willingly as she's always trusted her family, and she hopes he feels the same way about her. Right now, her with thoughts muddled with drink, it's a little easier to doubt things, but she's still fairly certain Kili thinks their friendship is just as important as she does.

"You moved apartments," she notes, maybe a little belatedly, but she figures he'll forgive that, too. She doesn't often get drunk and when she does, it always makes her thoughts run a little slower. She becomes quiet and a little more philosophical, melancholy in ways she normally isn't, but she isn't as quick either. It takes her longer than she'd like to reach certain thoughts and she lights up into a smile a second later, just before she collapses onto the couch. "You and Tauriel are livin' together now."

She's happy for him, she really is, but she can't help but wonder if maybe Tauriel won't look too kindly on Beth's presence here. She'd slept at Kili's before, just a few times, and while Fili had never minded much, she knows it's different when it comes to a girlfriend.

Kili arches a brow at her, amused. "Indeed we do," he answers with a laugh, guiding her toward the couch, just to make sure she doesn't stumble on the way. He'd hate to bring her food, only to find she's passed out on the living room floor. "Tauriel is at one of her classes this evening, and she usually stays later for more practice on her own. There are a couple hours yet before she'll be due home." It's her way, to excel at what she does, and Kili understands why.

Tauriel is a warrior, one who hasn't yet grown fully accustomed to a life as seemingly aimless as one might seem in Darrow. It's different for Kili, they both know that. He's found it easier to be here, if only because he's always had keen interests in things outside of learning to fight. His fascination with a bow, for instance, has always had more to do with a distinct sort of skillset needed to wield one rather than to use it for destruction. When it had come down to it, he certainly hadn't had any qualms about shooting down as many Orcs or Goblins or any manner of creatures that attacked the Company but in spite of that, he'd been happier in the Ered Luin.

He'd been happier to be alive.

Perhaps that is why he's come to care for Darrow as much as he has. It comes with its share of horrors but for the most part, the city has been good to him. It'd reunited him with Tauriel and his brother, after all, and introduced him to the sort of folk he never would have met in Arda. He thinks of this through his journey to and from the kitchen, of the fact that Beth may not be in his life were it not for his death, and it's a strange thing to consider.

"There we are," he says, carefully setting down the plate of cold pizza, along with two glasses of water, on the table in front of the couch. "Now, would you care to tell me what it is that had you reaching for the bottle this evening or is that a matter we should save for later?"

She's quiet for a moment, taking a sip of the much needed water before deciding whether or not she wants to answer. It isn't that she doesn't want to talk to Kili about it, she knows she can tell him absolutely anything without worrying about what he might think, but she doesn't know if she's too drunk or not drunk enough to talk about it or maybe somewhere in between, somewhere with enough sense to realize what she'd been doing was silly. Because it was silly, she knows that. There's nothing about drinking that will bring her closer to her father or make her forget the pain that came with losing him, but every so often she looks at that box of moonshine and can't quite help herself.

"My daddy was an alcoholic," she tells Kili. "He drank too much before I was born, way too much, and I know he regrets a lot of that. He thinks maybe he was a bad person or... or I don't really know, he didn't like talkin' about it much, but I know he didn't like alcohol. He didn't keep any of it in the house, not even for cookin' and he never wanted me or my brother or sister to drink ever. After he died, all I wanted was to have my first drink 'cause I was so mad at him for dyin' and I knew he'd be mad at me if I got drunk." Which had been sort of a silly reason, but at the time it had felt right, too. Even now it felt right in a weird way. Silly maybe, but still right.

"Sometimes I see the box of all that moonshine in the closet and I miss him all over again," she says, looking down at her water. "I think about what it was like that first night, watchin' what happened and I... I just miss him and this is dumb, but it's one of the best ways to feel close to him again."

"It isn't dumb."

Perhaps that isn't the answer Beth is looking for, perhaps she isn't looking for anyone to justify her reasons for taking to the moonshine this evening, but it's the first thing Kili can think to say because in a way, he understands. She's looking for a connection, any sort of connection to her father, and she'd found it in the most immediately obvious way she could. After all these years, Kili still feels the urge to do the very same thing with his own father.

Addâd had been taken from him far too soon, and it stirs a certain pain in his chest to think of him even now. He'd asked Fili once when they'd been much younger how long it would take for the sadness to fade away and his brother had been quiet long enough for Kili to think he'd angered him. It hadn't been until Fili had gathered him in his arms without saying anything else at all that Kili had realized the definitive answer was never. It would never fade away because their father would forever remain with them, if only in their hearts, and someday, he would be there to greet them in the Halls of Waiting.

"You remember what I told you about my braids," Kili says softly. "Rather, why I don't like to wear them. My mother would get so angry at me until she understood the reason." After that, she'd been happy to let Kili wear his hair whichever way he wanted and Fili, ever the dutiful big brother, never once complained about it. "Sometimes we do things that might seem irrational just to feel close to someone we loved again. There isn't anything dumb about it."

Beth nods when Kili asks if she remembers what he told her about his braids and it doesn't surprise her at all that of everyone she knows, he understands exactly what she's feeling. Maybe their situations aren't exactly the same, maybe they experience these things in different ways, but it's still similar and they both know how the other feels. It's hard, losing parents, and there are times when Beth is angry at the world for having taken both of hers in such a short period of time. All she'd ever wanted was to live quietly, peacefully, and that had all been taken from her. From all of them.

"I think sometimes I did it that first time because I was hopin' it might bring him back," she admits. "I know that's silly and I knew even then that he wasn't comin' back. Not after what was done to him. I knew, but I thought if there was anything that could do it, it would be that. He would've been so mad at me, so disappointed." She smiles a little and takes another sip of water. "He would've tried to ground me for weeks, I bet, even though there really wasn't much hope for goin' out and havin' a social life anymore."

That never would have stopped Hershel Greene. He had trusted both his daughter after everything they'd been through, he'd had to, but Beth is sure if she had tried to misbehave even then, after everything, he would have still found a way to punish her somehow.

Kili can't help but to chuckle at that, if only because he can relate to it, at least in part. Ever the rebellious dwarfling, his mother would sometimes become so frustrated with him that she hadn't known how to punish him at all, though it'd sometimes resulted in keeping Kili and Fili apart for a period of time. That had most often been a failed endeavor, of course, one of them would always find a way to get back to the other, but in truth, Kili thinks he would have likely turned out far worse had it not been for his older brother's influence. Thorin, too, before he'd become consumed by the notion of taking back the Lonely Mountain, had proven to be the father figure both Kili had wanted, if not needed.

"Sometimes I wonder how different I might be if my father hadn't joined Mahal," Kili says. "It's always been harder for Fili, you know, being Thorin's heir, everyone always had higher expectations for him. I never wanted to be on the throne, and I likely never would have ended up there anyway if things had turned out another way, but if our father had been alive all that time..." He trails off, shaking his head thoughtfully. "I wonder if I would have gone with the Company at all. I wanted so badly for Thorin to approve of me, to recognize my worth, and so did Fili."

He doesn't blame his uncle for anything, not at all. It'd been Kili's choice to join the Company, his unrelenting insistence that had finally convinced Thorin to allow him to come along, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about all the different possibilities that might have led to other paths for him and his brother.

"I suppose there's nothing to do but wonder," he says, "and it shouldn't come as a surprise that we do. Sometimes even just trying to imagine how my father would react to something I've done makes me feel a little bit closer to him. Like I still remember him well enough to know exactly what he'd say."

Beth thinks she'd like to be the subject of a world where Kili was the king, if only because it means she'd be the king's best friend and would probably get a lot of special treatment, but also because she thinks he would be good at it. He's kind and fair and wants to protect those he cares about and she's never once seen him capable of real cruelty, which is what she thinks makes a good leader. Maybe he'd have a harder time with the tough decisions, the ones she knows Rick had to make, but he's smart, too. He would get there.

It's not really something to worry about here, though, Darrow doesn't have any royalty. She wonders what Kili's father was like, she wonders what sort of king he was and how he had raised his sons. What he would have taught them, how he would have made them feel loved.

Leaning back against the couch, she loops her arm through Kili's and leans her head against his shoulder. "Me, too," she says. "I think all the time about what my dad would say about so much of my life. What he'd think about me goin' to school to be a music teacher. What he'd think about Daryl. It makes me feel like he's still here in a way."

"What do you think he'd have to say about Mister Daryl?" Kili asks.

His curiosity stems more out of his own thoughts of what both his mother and father might have said about his relationship with Tauriel. What he'd like to believe is that they'd be understanding, that they'd tell him that if he loves her, she's surely worthy of his affections; but if Kili is honest with himself, he thinks his mother's opinion may be a bit more in line with her own brother's. Thranduil had turned away from the dwarrows in need of help from Smaug, after all, and Kili would hardly fault his mother for following in the footsteps of Thorin's frustrations.

She hadn't spoken much about the Elves, had often remained quiet if Thorin were to visit and explain at length just why he abhors them so much, but Kili had never truly taken the time to suss out whether that had meant she disagreed or simply hadn't wanted to revisit the pain of having lost her kin's true home.

"I think my mother would disapprove of my being in love with Tauriel," he admits, "but I'd also like to believe she'd be able to put it behind her. Tauriel saved my life, more than once, and if Fili can turn a blind eye to what her lord had done to our kind, I suspect my mother could, too. My father, I'm not as certain. I don't recall him ever speaking so poorly about Elves the way my uncle always did, but I was also so young that I may not have understood it. I don't think Thorin would ever be able to truly accept my attachment to Tauriel. If I'd survived in Arda..."

He trails off, shaking his head as he twirls a strand of Beth's hair around his finger. "In Arda, I do not think we'd have been able to share a life together."

That makes her sad, the idea that someone so close to Kili wouldn't accept how much he loves Tauriel just because she's an elf. It's obvious Beth doesn't understand the intricacies of how his world works or what they meant to each other, but she's also never been all that interested in fantasy and never read those books when she was growing up. Maybe if she had she would understand his uncle's position a little better, but she doesn't think she wants to. Love is love and it shouldn't matter to anyone else who someone loves. They should just be happy they've found someone to share their life with.

"I guess I don't really know," she starts, thinking of how her dad was with Daryl. "They spent a lot of time together, Daryl and my dad. When we were livin' in the prison, Rick decided he wasn't fit to lead us anymore, so we had sort of a council. My dad was on it, Daryl was, too. I could see he really respected Daryl and I think my dad had a soft spot for anyone who could take bad circumstances and change their life like Daryl did. When we first met him, he was... well, he was kind of a dick." She laughs a little, nudging her head against Kili's shoulder. "He was sorta racist and really violent, but most of that seemed like stuff he was doin' to impress his brother. Merle was a bad guy. Real bad guy. Verbally abusive, emotionally manipulative. He messed Daryl up pretty bad, so when my dad watched how Daryl made this effort to stop bein' that way, to really just be himself instead of this guy he thought Merle wanted him to be, he really respected that."

She thinks about it for a little while longer, then says, "I still don't really know what he'd say about us bein' together, though. Daryl's older than me, I know he'd be concerned about that. He'd be worried."

Kili wonders whether he's wrong, whether Thorin might reconsider his disapproval of his nephew's relationship with an elf, if only he'd seen all that Tauriel had done. She'd been the one to show him kindness in the Mirkwood prison; to kill the Orc that would have killed him upon the Company's escape; to heal him from the wound caused by an arrow to his leg; to take them to safety when Smaug had wreaked havoc upon Laketown; to come for him on Ravenhill so she could help his kin fight for what was truly theirs.

All that, and Thorin had known of none of it. He'd blindly hated all Elves because of a long-held grudge that had most certainly begun with a good reason but had extended through all those years because the Dwarves had forgotten that not all Elves are alike. The two races have never gotten along particularly well, and Kili admittedly still doesn't like a great deal of them; but he'd been able to see from the start that Tauriel wasn't quite like the others. He wishes he could have been able to convince his uncle of the same before he'd died.

"It was good of your father to give him that chance," Kili tells her. "I cannot speak of a difference in ages, Tauriel is centuries older than I am. But I think if your father could see how happy Mister Daryl makes you, he would be happy, too. Well, perhaps that would have come after the worry, but it sounds to me like his biggest concern would be to make sure you're being treated well." He gives her a small, teasing smile. "That is also my concern, as it always will be."

"Well, you never gotta worry about that. Not with Daryl," she says with a little laugh, rubbing her hand over her face. "He's one of the best people I know and he..." She trails off a little and shakes her head, because she isn't even sure if she knows how to explain it, how to tell him just how good Daryl really is. How hard he tries, the things he's done for her and how much he's changed. Not that he's forced himself to change for her or for anyone, really, not since Merle. But he's allowed himself to be who he really is, who he wants to be, and Beth thinks that's a brave thing. It takes a lot of courage to get out from under men like Merle and their father.

"You never gotta worry about it," she says again and leaves it at that. She knows if she wanted to, she could take advantage of Daryl in a lot of ways, she could have him do just about anything she wants, so she's always very careful not to do that. It's not in her nature anyway, she isn't worried, but she knows just how much he loves her and the lengths he'd be willing to go for her. She isn't ever going to abuse that, she's going to make sure of it.

"So she's centuries older, huh?" she asks a moment later, looking over at Kili. "She kinda looks like... like she's no older than my sister." Older than Beth, certainly, but not by much, and no older than Maggie. Of course, Kili looks the same, somewhere in his early to mid twenties, and she knows he's much, much older than that. Sometimes she wonders what that's like, how it might feel to be that old and still know he's so young. There's so much ahead for him still, but for a person his age, they're nearing the end of their life. There must be so much more to learn, so much to see and do.

Kili doesn't worry about Mister Daryl, not particularly. He knows he needn't worry about Beth when it comes to who she loves because he trusts her judgment. For as long as he's known her, she's always proven that she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself, that she's a strong woman who doesn't need protection, but Kili thinks it's merely part of a close friendship to feel as if he ought to watch out for her. She wouldn't be with Mister Daryl if they didn't complement each other, Kili is sure of it, so if he's concerned for her, it's only because he feels it is his duty.

Of course, if Mister Daryl ever were to hurt her, Kili cannot predict how he'd react. (And that is a bit of a lie in itself because he thinks he knows exactly what he'd do, he just wouldn't want to say it in front of Beth.)

"I don't know how old Tauriel might be in your years," he says, tilting his head thoughtfully. "In truth, I know very little about Elven culture in general, aside from what Tauriel has taught me. It's rather frowned upon, you see, to show an interest in Elves in the Ered Luin. For Fili and myself, it's a bit easier. From what I gather, adulthood for Men and women begins about the age of eighteen, does it not? Dwarrows stop being considered dwarflings at about seventy-five or so, which I suppose means I'd be about eighteen or nineteen in Men's years."

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter much, really. How old Tauriel is has no bearing on my love for her, just as Mister Daryl's age has no bearing on yours."

"That's too bad," she says, tipping her head back to look up at the ceiling. "That you were discouraged from learnin' about their culture. I can't imagine how interesting it would all be, learnin' what Elves are like or havin' them learn about you. I think if I were from your world I'd wanna learn about everything, but I guess it's because I'm not from your world that I can say stuff like that."

She doesn't know anything about how things really were, how politics worked, how different cultures interacted. Just because they all seem so interesting to her doesn't mean it would have been easy for her to learn about everything she wanted to.

"She can teach you now, though," she says. "And maybe she'd tell me some stuff if I asked? Do you think she'd really mind?" Sometimes Beth isn't sure whether or not Tauriel likes her, but she doesn't ever want to burden Kili with that, mostly because she thinks it's just her own perception. Like Kili, Beth knows she has an exceptional amount of positive energy and that sometimes it can be a bit much for some people, especially for those who are naturally a little more reserved. It's a little funny to her sometimes, that she and Kili have both ended up with people like that.

"Living in Arda was nothing like living here," Kili says, though he supposed he's made that clear enough. In Darrow, it seems folk are encouraged to learn the cultures that belong to others, to celebrate all of what separates and unifies them, where as most of the races in Arda generally kept to themselves. Men and Elves alike looked down on the dwarrows and so, the dwarrows had hardly wanted anything to do with them. Moreover, the thought of sharing any of their hard-earned wealth had always been something close to blasphemy.

Kili had believed what his kin had told him for a long time, that he shouldn't trust the treacherous Elvish race, but he can't deny that he'd also always been curious. Watching Elves past through the forests from high up in the trees had gotten him into trouble more than once, but he thinks now that there'd been a reason for his keen interest. Perhaps this is the path Mahal had wanted him to take all along and even Thorin wouldn't be able to argue if that were the case.

"I think she'd be pleased to find there are people who want to learn more about her," he continues, nodding. Tauriel may not be as outwardly expressive as Kili or Beth, but she is kind. Kili couldn't love her if she wasn't kind. "But she's spent many of her centuries as a warrior, mind. It may take a bit of patience to work her up to sharing so much of her past."

The more Kili says about Tauriel, the more Beth learns about her, the more she thinks she's an awful lot like Daryl. Maybe he's not as graceful and he doesn't have pointed ears or an exceptionally long life like Tauriel does, but she suspects their personalities are similar. Neither of them is very good at talking about their feelings and they're both warriors -- Daryl not for centuries, but she doesn't think that matters -- and they know how to fight, how to do battle. But there's goodness and kindness under all that, people who care about their excitable, bubbly, enthusiastic and optimistic loved ones and would do anything for them.

It makes sense to her that she and Kili have become friends. It would make just as much sense if Daryl and Tauriel were to be friends, too.

"We should go out," she decides. "All four of us. I think... I think Daryl might like meetin' Tauriel and seein' that there are others who're... y'know, a little bit more like him than I am. I think for a long time he thought the only thing he was good at was fighting battles, but that's not true. Not about him, not about Tauriel. They're never going to be like Beth and Kili and that's okay. They might still like to meet each other.

A second later, though, she realizes she's just suggested they go on a double date and she wonders if that might make Daryl feel uncomfortable. He'll do it for her if she asks him to, but he might not be happy about it. She wonders if the same might be true about Tauriel, if she's just suggested something that might end up being an incredibly awkward night for everyone involved. At least she can count on having fun with Kili, as she always does.

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(june)

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