Notes: I swear I didn't abandon this, I have like a dozen drafts for different scenarios, but I don't know what happened.

I watched Botfa this week and wanted to write the feels out with a drabble and this happened? It's veeeery Sigrid-centric with just a bit of Fili at the very end. Sorry. I think. I liked creating background for Sig. She's cool.

I.

It was a typical thing. The girls of the town would get together, sewing and gossiping while their mothers did the same. Having to run a household and looking after her siblings rarely let Sigrid have the opportunity to join these meetings, but the few times she did, she unabashedly soaked up the feeling of being a girl. Just talking and laughing and mending clothing.

There was red-haired Frigg, with broad shoulders and fingers, surprisingly well-suited for holding delicate needles and full of good humour. Taisha, dark and willowy, brimming with energy and wit, who always had a story up her sleeve from her father's vast collection from all over Arda. Quiet Adne with observing eyes and calm hands, always taking apart and putting together the clothes with cool precision that made her a helper for the medic.

The conversation was lively as always. Taisha had read a new book that she had gotten as a gift from her betrothed, and she liked reading the different people with distinctive voices. After a while however Frigg commented that the book was a wonderful gift, and Taisha sighed happily and started gushing about her love, with the other girls half rolling their eyes and half listening very interestedly.

It was in such a conversation that the inevitable question would have to come up.

"What about Sigrid?"

"Yes, what about her? You're the only one we haven't had an opportunity to tease yet," Taisha turned to Sigrid with a sly smile.

Inwardly groaning, Sigrid shrugged non-committally. Taisha loved teasing people, so it was wise to not give her any incentive. "I wouldn't know. It's not like the population in this town offers plenty to choose from."

Laughter met her answer, at least Frigg's and Taisha's. "Hear, hear! Miss Sigrid has standards! Let us hear them then!"

"Well, a minimum of bodily hygiene is a requirement," Sigrid said drily. "And a healthy dose of common sense."

"How utterly typical!" Frigg exclaimed. "So unromantic."

"Do you not have any dreams of at least a little handsomeness – or at least a steady income?" Taisha chimed in.

Sigrid sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "Yes, you got me, that is exactly it, Tash."

"But isn't there anyone who meets these incredibly high standards? What about, say, Adi?" Taisha prodded.

"Oh yes, or what about Hana?" Frigg chimed in. "He's sensible and even clean."

They erupted into giggles while Sigrid rolled her eyes god-naturedly.

"What about Adalan?" Adne said suddenly.

Sigrid glared at her for the betrayal. Adne just shrugged and watched with amusement as Taisha and Frigg bit onto the idea.

"Hmm, I don't know…" Frigg pondered, "I mean, he certainly knows how to take care of himself. Though it's a bit much, I think. What do you like, Sigrid?"

"She certainly likes his chest. Last time we were at the market, he was heaving chests and got warm and then had to take off his shirt." Taisha intoned dramatically. "And let me tell you, I had to pinch innocent little Sigrid here right out of a dirty daydream so we could go on."

"I was not having a- a dirty daydream!" She protested.

"Well, you certainly didn't mind his shirt being absent. So that's something you like." She grinned.

"I like you to get done with this because Tilda needs to have something to wear again." Sigrid nodded at the forgotten needlework on Taisha's lap with an impish grin, knowing it would drive Tash crazy to think that she was hiding something.

Then she dodged questions by quipping as much as she could until Tash threw up her hands and Adne was smirking at both of them, having had the treatment last time and not seeming up to the task of defending anyone, after they had mercilessly grilled her on what exactly the boat captain's son had said to her the other day on the docks.

Taisha wasn't quite done yet however. "Tell you what Sig, if you manage to find out what type you like, you promise you'll give us a sign. Just so I can have my peace that you actually know what you want."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Sigrid watched as Taisha cut off a bit of nice ribbon of all things and gave it to her despite her protests. "This is one very hare-brained idea of yours, Tash. It doesn't even make sense. What am I supposed to do with it?" She flapped the fabric about like a lifeless fish. "This is such a waste."

"You could give it to your chosen one as a token, like in the stories," Taisha fired back without batting a lash.

"Or you braid it into his hair," Adne said drily, "Everyone loves ribbons in their hair." Even Sigrid couldn't help but snicker at the thought of lovingly braiding a man's hair. If other men were half as bad as Da and Bain, they would barely even consider using a brush before rushing off to work.

After a while the conversation turned to other topics again, letting Sigrid quietly breathe in relief. It wasn't that she minded a bit of teasing, but she would prefer it if their combined prowess in wheedling out information out of each other didn't dig to the point where she couldn't hide what was in her heart anymore. And truly, it was not because she didn't trust them with the information, it was just that place of her heart that she rarely ever allowed herself to look into. And as always, she pushed everything back into it and went on.

II.

On the way home, Sigrid held her face up into the cool summer night air. What a respite after the day's unusual heat. The town's closeness to the lake usually guaranteed cool fresh air, except for the times where no winds would come from anywhere. Then the heat would make the mouldy wood and fish lying out to dry create the most exquisite odour. Loud laughter suddenly pulled Sigrid from her musings. From across the street the lights of the town's pub where alight, voices floating out and about. Everyone wanted to get their hands on a mug of ale after a hard day's work, no matter how thin it was.

Outside the pub some people milled around, talking casually to passers-by. A figure waved, instinctively making Sigrid want to turn her head to see who they were waving at, then she recognised Jasna, the woman who lived down the street. She was arm in arm with her husband Dalan, a towering man who used to chase Tilda behind Sigrid's skirts as soon as she spotted him.

Embarrassed by her slow reaction, Sigrid hurriedly waved back without stopping to talk. She had no longing for conversation right now, especially not across the stream, in volumes ranging from loud to screaming. The couple waved at her, smiling, and kept walking. Relieved, Sigrid looked away, but not quickly enough to miss the following exchange between the couple.

Dalan ducked to lowly say something into Jasna's ear, making her jump away with a laugh and scratching her ear which he had seemingly tickled. The man smiled back at her, with such a bright and sweet look gracing his rough face that Sigrid felt like she had just stealthily snuck in front of their window to get a look at what went on in their kitchen.

A sudden thought sprung into Sigrid's mind, "Did Ma and Da look like that when they were young? Has Da ever looked liked that?"

Quickly looking away, she kept walking focusing on her feet stepping on the firmer wood planks. In her mind, she could see exactly what she tried to push away all the time: her Da holding his arm behind his back when he entered the kitchen, greeting Sigrid with a wink and a finger to the lips, making her keep silent and watch when he snuck up on Ma, tickling her side. Ma whirled around with a shriek, making Da laugh heartily. Sigrid couldn't remember the words exchanged, but Ma had been fiery and Da had been laughing and at some point he had pulled his arm from behind his back to reveal a single blossom of the brightest red Sigrid had ever seen.

Then Ma had gasped and just looked at Da with an expression Sigrid had not understood, but she had thrown her arms around Da and kissed him soundly, which assured Sigrid that it was all well and quite romantic. At that moment, when her Da had dipped Ma and quickly twirled her through the kitchen, the laughter between them their music, Sigrid had known that this was what her future marriage would look like.

And there she was again, right at the point that she tried to avoid at all times. Her parents' marriage had been full of love and laughter and seeing what it had done to Da to lose Ma left Sigrid reeling with the thought of how deep this kind of connection could go.

Of course, time had taught her that marriage was not always romantic but rather pragmatic, and yet… How could one bind oneself to another without caring for them? How did one live with each other for years and years like that? It was in the deep places of her heart that Sigrid knew she could never marry someone for the material benefits of marriage. Not even, and she knew how selfish that was, if her family could use the financial gain.

She swallowed. It hadn't ever mattered anyway, until Adalan had started looking at her quite openly whenever they saw each other at the market, which was quite often, as Adalan's father was a businessman who sold goods from the neighbouring regions. That meant that Adalan could walk around in sturdy clothing and even spare to give away an apple or two to the playing children if he wanted to without having to think twice about it.

If Sigrid started to reply to his brazen smiles, she had little doubt she could be comfortably settled within the year. It wasn't even because she was imagining things. It was more that about two weeks earlier, when she had looked at the playing children happily munching on their gifts (berries this time), that Adalan had told her, "Sigrid, they look happy, don't they?"

And Sigrid couldn't help but nod. Snot-nosed and in need of a bath in some cases, but decidedly happy about their luck granting them sweet fruits that day.

"You know, you could hand out fruit to them as much as you want, one day." Adalan had said casually.

Sigrid's head had whipped around to him so fast she swore she could hear something crack in her neck.

"And, of course, to your own children. You know, one day, sooner or later." Then he winked at her. "I could provide for them, you know."

"For- for who?"

"Our children," he stated so matter-of-factly that Sigrid felt like she must surely be dreaming. "Just think about it," he smirked at her, "You know where to find me."

In her entire life of living in Laketown, she had never mastered the distance from the market to her home as quickly as that day. Remembering it, Sigrid kicked the railing beside her. Why? Why out of all the girls in Laketown did Adalan think she should be the one to bear his children?

There was nothing fundamentally wrong with Adalan per se, he was healthy looking, well-off and could be charming…except when proposing to someone, apparently. The nerve of him! Sigrid snorted into the night rather indelicately. Was it really too much to ask for a few nice words that didn't focus on the question of child-bearing?

Frigg's casual question from earlier still rang in her ears. "What do you like, Sigrid?"

Sigrid thought she liked people who actually asked her what she wanted, for one. And she liked people who didn't smirk and wink at her when talking about getting children, especially in hearing range of said little rascals. From then on, the details got a bit…fuzzy.

If she was quite honest with herself, there was a lad who worked down at the town dock's, Ásmarr, who always greeted her with a smile when she was down there to run errands for Da. Ásmarr was tall and wiry and she had heard some people jokingly call him a cat because he had a strange grace that allowed him to climb everywhere in spite of his height. His clear cut nose and jaw gave him a masculine touch that was offset by a pair of brown eyes framed by the darkest, curliest lashes Sigrid had ever seen.

She blushed at the thought of how it had even come that she came close enough to see his eyes in such detail. It had been an accident, Sigrid not paying attention, a lose rope holding a heavy sack and Ásmarr pushing her out of the way just in time. With his whole body. Which had pressed the air out of her quite effectively. He had jumped up quickly, helping her up and asking a few times if she was alright, but Sigrid couldn't quite forget how his face had been hovering over hers for a moment and how his hands had felt on her arms when pulling her up.

But that was just a moment, and it meant nothing, right?

Though maybe it meant she liked eyes framed by nice lashes?

Loud voices pulled her out of her thoughts for a moment. She was nearing the town's only pub now. People were milling around, talking, and she could hear some music instruments being tuned from inside. Laketown wasn't the cheeriest of places, but on a summer's night like this one, not even they could resist a bit of light-hearted cheer.

Sigrid let her gaze travel through the window, taking in the sight inside.

"It's quite lively tonight." She gasped and jumped, only to discover Lér, the pub owner's son, standing beside her, holding two wooden crates.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled.

"Somehow I don't believe that," Sigrid immediately shot back. In a small town like theirs, everyone tended to grow up knowing everyone from around the same age, but that didn't necessarily mean one talked to each other. Lér was few years older than Sigrid and her Da tended to avoid the pub, so it was surprising that he even talked to her at all. For some reason however, he had started doing so back when they were children and had never stopped.

"Need help with that?" she nodded at the weight he was holding.

"Nah, I'm fine," he tried to dissuade her, but Sigrid just cocked her eyebrows and gently lifted the upper one that was merely leaning against his chest as he was grasping the lower one with his hands.

Lér sighed. "I swear, my Mum says your Da is the most stubborn man in this town, but she doesn't know you."

"Are you calling me a man?" Sigrid grinned at him.

"Never." He said and went past her to round the building's corner. She could swear he muttered something like "Couldn't forget if I tried" but what she was to make of that was a mystery, so she simply followed Lér to the smaller adjoined building that was used as a pantry and barrel cellar of sorts.

Rounding the corner, she was met with the view of Lér's back as he fiddled with the keys. Her thoughts from earlier were still on the surface, and she couldn't help but compare him to Ásmarr. Lér was actually related to Frigg and his hair had some of that red in it, though it was mostly brown. He was not as tall as Ásmarr and a lot broader in the chest and shoulders. His waist dipped in sharply and lead to down to a, ahem, very nice, well. Sigrid blushed. There was no denying that Lér was a lot more firmly muscled than Ásmarr, that was all, she firmly told herself.

Her embarrassing circle of thoughts was broken by Lér finally managing to get the door open, for which Sigrid was thankful. The crate she was holding was actually quite heavy.

Lér looked at her when she put the crate next to his. He had a dimple on his left cheek and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Thanks, Sigrid, I don't know what I would've done without your invaluable help."

"Let something fall and stumble over your feet, probably."

He whistled. "Harsh." It was a pretty well known fact that Lér had gotten his father's tendency to clumsily drop things and trip over air. How they maintained a pub was one of the great mysteries of the world Sigrid would probably never resolve.

"You know me, always honest."

They kept shooting remarks back and forth in good humour while they packed away the bottles in the crates. Sigrid felt completely at ease at the familiar motions and the presence of a friend. When they finished, Lér pulled out a small cake he had nicked with the intent to eat all by himself and they sat on the crates to enjoy his loot.

Munching on her piece of the pastry, Sigrid didn't quite notice that Lér had grown quiet. Usually he wouldn't even let food keep him from talking. He was looking at the stars with a slight frown wedged between his eyebrows.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he got to it first. "Can I ask you something?"

His overt seriousness made Sigrid grow worried for her friend, so she quickly nodded.

"If you're friends with someone and you see that they're about to make a big mistake, it's right to warn them, don't you think?"

Sigrid merely nodded, knowing that Lér preferred to have emotional things done and over with and didn't like being interrupted when he was thinking out loud.

"But you know that what you're going to tell that friend is going to hurt them, even if you're trying to do the right thing. But if you don't say anything, they're going to do the thing and possibly ruin their life forever!" He exclaimed.

Sigrid thought about this. If it was bad enough to make Lér this serious, there was definitely someone out there about to maybe not ruin their life, but do something stupid to say the least. "Lér, I can't tell much about the situation your friend is in – of course, you shouldn't tell me other people's secrets. What I can tell you is that if you just rush for it, you will hurt your friend."

"Maybe tell your friend you want to help because you're worried, you're not out to hurt them, and that you're only doing it because of your outsider perspective. And of course you don't know everything, so you might be mistaken. Also the decision to do or not do something is absolutely you friends and you will respect that. I think then they know you mean well and it might work."

Lér nodded to himself, his lower lip clenched between his teeth. "Alright. That's what I'll do then." He turned so he was facing her completely. "Sigrid, I have to tell you something, and I don't want you to think that I'm meddling, but I'm worried about you and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Me? This is about me?" She was floored. "What on earth do you think I'm about to do that's so terrible?"

"Well, I don't want to be mean, but Sigrid, I'm worried. It's not like you to just get up and get yourself betrothed just like that!"

"What?" Sigrid blinked.

"And no one less than Adalan, too!"

"What?!"

"He's not a bad lad, but Sigrid, if you'll forgive me, you could do better than that arrogant, entitled-"

"I thought you said he wasn't bad." She heard herself say while her mind raced to comprehend the words that were coming out of Lér's mouth.

Lér blushed. "I didn't mean it like that, promise. I just think you deserve to be with someone who actually likes someone else than himself. And I just keep thinking that you know that too. And you wouldn't just get betrothed to him like that."

"I didn't get betrothed to him just like that. No, wait, I mean, I didn't get-"

"And I know why!" Lér exclaimed with a mixture of pride at himself and worry that was directed at her that Sigrid forgot what she was thinking.

"Uh…" she uttered eloquently.

"It's alright," Lér said empathically, "You don't have to explain. I know that it's always been hard on your family after your Ma passed, and what with everyone still talking about the stupid thing with your ancestor anyway. It's nothing to be ashamed of when times aren't easy. So I figured it out."

Sigrid's head was spinning.

"But you don't have to marry Adalan for your sibling's sake, Sigrid. I know you don't like him like that."

"Lér-"

"So I thought, since he only asked because he wants you to bear his children, you should have another option." He took a deep breath and blushed a bit. "You could marry me."

Sigrid stared.

"Sigrid?" Lér regarded her worriedly when she didn't react. "I know I'm not as fancy or travelled as him, but I have a secure income just like him. And, and you could just go down the street for everything your siblings need."

"Lér-"

"And we've been friends forever, so we would get married to people we like, which is more than can be said for a lot of people. I promise I'd be a good husband to you. I'd take care of you, if you wanted, that is, and I'd do my best to be a good brother-in-law to Bain and Tilda and-"

"Lér."

"And if we ever have children – which we don't have to, mind you – I'd be there for them and you, and they'd always be cared for, people always want something to drink or eat, so the pub's not going away any time soon-"

"Lér!" Her shout finally cut him off and he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Uhm." Sigrid managed. Where did Lér get that idea? What was going on? "Lér, that's very nice to offer, thank you." Always be polite when people offered something, at least one thing that she could manage to do right now. "But, uh, I'm not sure how to put this? I am not betrothed to Adalan?"

Lér's mouth fell open. "You're not?"

"No?" Wait, that wasn't a question. Sigrid cleared her throat. "No." she said firmly.

"But he says you are."

"What?"

"He just came in today and was all smug, saying how he knew you couldn't resist for long, and that- oh." He blushed from his neck to his hairline.

Sigrid waited while sorted his words out.

"He said that your wedding night would be reason enough for you to- well, anyway, I kind of lost it at the way he was talking about you and I wanted to help." He was staring at his shoes with a miserable expression.

Something deep in her belly snapped and Sigrid gurgled. After a moment of struggling, she let go and let the laughter bubble up. It was the kind of half-hysterical laughter of pure disbelief. She quickly bit her lip, but Lér looked up at her with embarrassment anyway. Sigrid managed reign herself in somewhat.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, Lér. I didn't mean to laugh at you. Just the thought that Adalan is so incredibly sure that I'm going to fall for him when all that he did was insinuate how great I'm going to be at bearing his spawn- Goodness, I never realised how self-involved he is!" She shook her head and smiled at Lér, who still looked quite chagrined, even though his lips were slightly curling up again.

"But thank you for trying to help. I really appreciate it. That was quite the offer to make to save a friend from marriage. I am very lucky to have such a loyal friend." She said honestly. To think what would have been if this had been real! Yes, she was very lucky to have friend who was willing to go this far.

"'S no trouble," he muttered, looking at his shoes with a small smile of pride. "I thought about it and I didn't see why it shouldn't work between us. Compared to that spiv, anyway."

Sigrid didn't bother to chide him this time for his choice of words and just rolled her eyes. "Yes, very romantic, Lér. The next time you propose to someone, you might want to go for something else than 'I'm better than the other one'. And perhaps not in the shed."

He grinned at her then. "Will do. Ah, goodness, I'm so glad you're not marrying anyone, Sigrid." He blinked. "I mean, I would be glad if you did, but not him. Or me-"

Sigrid snorted. They looked at each other. After a moment, her lips twitched and he gurgled and then they were laughing. It was loud and hysterical, getting rid of whatever tension had been left. Sigrid was positively cackling and Lér desperately thumped his crate to reign in his flailing limbs. Whenever they looked at each other, one of them would start again and the other couldn't try to stop anymore either. After several minutes, they finally managed when Sigrid pushed Lér's face into the other direction and looked at the paint peeling off the shed.

"I can't believe this," Lér wheezed.

"Me neither." Sigrid wiped away the tears from her eyes. "Especially that Adalan would just go and tell stories like that to people."

A thought occurred to her.

"Has anyone else heard of this?" Might as well be prepared for more conversations like this. Wait- had the girl's interest earlier today been because they thought she was hiding something and not just because it was her turn? Inwardly groaning, she made a mental note to dissuade any ideas they might have as soon as possible.

"Try who hasn't, really."

Sigrid groaned out loud this time. "I hope Da hasn't yet."

"Don't think so. Adalan's still alive, isn't he?" Lér bumped her with his shoulder, or at least tried to, but he misjudged the distance between their crates and nearly planted his face on the ground, toppling down from his seat.

Lér raised his finger before she could react. "Don't. Just don't say anything."

Without a word, Sigrid rose and held out her hand to him.

"Don't you need to go back to work?"

He grimaced. "You're such an older sister."

"Reason why it wouldn't work between us, I'd say." She quipped and he pinched her nose.

"You're Sigrid, and that's enough reason that it would." He said quite seriously.

Sigrid didn't know what to say, so she awkwardly moved her head in a gesture that could have been a yes as well as a no and looked ahead to where they were going.

"Oh look, there's Madani!" she said with some relief.

As expected, Lér's gaze snapped up to the curly-haired young man leaning against the wall of the pub. In the lantern's light Madani's skin looked like umber, reflecting the light with a warm shine, and his hearty laughter rang through the night. Lér turned to her with a questioning glance.

"Go on. I'm on my home anyway."

She wondered if Lér was even aware that he probably would never be happy being married to her, not because she was Sigrid, but because she wasn't Madani.

He shot her a grin and dashed away, throwing a "Bye, Siggi!" over his shoulder.

"Don't call me that!" she shouted after him, but it was hopeless, as always.

She waved to Madani, who had looked up at the sound of Lér's voice, and went on her way.

Stuffing her hands in her skirt's pockets out of habit, Sigrid nearly jumped when her fingers brushed something unexpectedly. After a split second she laughed at her own stupidity and closed her fingers around the delicate ribbon.

Well, she didn't have a type that she could tell the girls about, but a proposal would make an even better story, that much was sure.

III.

It wasn't until months later that the small piece of cloth even entered her mind again. It had been a whirlwind of events that day, what with no less than thirteen people entering their house through their toilet. It was absolutely disgusting and Sigrid had had her hands full with trying to get the filth out of everyone's clothes and the house (she had just cleaned yesterday!). Luckily the dwarves had turned out to be quite amiable houseguests who did their share of housework without complaining. She hadn't even asked them to do anything.

Now she was standing on a stool, trying to reach a box that stored all the small knickknacks one needed for sewing. The journey had been rough on their guests and what little clothes they still had on their bodies desperately needed mending. With a huff she noticed that Da must have been looking for something again because the box was pushed back a bit, just out of reach. Standing on her toes, she still struggled to reach the handle so she could pull it towards her.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Sigrid nearly toppled over in surprise, but managed to ungracefully keep her balance. There was a dwarf standing in the door, the blond one, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"My apologies, my lady, I didn't mean to startle you." He said. His voice was deep, as it was for most of the dwarves, and he stood straight and proud just outside the threshold leading into the bedroom. He filled out nearly the whole frame with the width of his shoulders. She didn't tell him that she wasn't a lady.

"No apologies needed, that would have happened anyway. I'm just not as tall as Da." She made a flustered gesture to the box. "Bofur needs to mend his shirt- or Bombur? Sorry."

"Bombur is the largest of us." He said amiably. "It's a great many names to learn in less than a few hours."

"Then it was Bofur." Sigrid smiled at him and turned to reach for the box again. "I'm afraid it'll take a while till he gets it though."

"May I help?" He moved as if to come closer but did not pass the threshold.

Sigrid was just about to point out that he wasn't exactly taller than her when her brain caught with her mouth and she managed to transform whatever she had been about to say to a very armed dwarf into a noncommittal vague noise.

He very carefully stepped into the small room. His presence was very… she was very aware of it. The leader of the company, the dark haired dwarf called Thorin, had a similar presence, but it was sharper, more commanding. This one's was softened by the impish quirk in the corner of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes.

Sigrid didn't have time to analyse the similarities or lack thereof further as she suddenly found herself in the air. Firm, surprisingly large hands were on her hips, lifting her towards the shelf. Startled, she reached for the box and barely managed to grab it before she went down again. She turned to thank him for his help, unorthodox as it was, misjudged the distance between them and knocked the box into him. The momentum sent the lid off and the contents to the ground. For a moment they stared at it.

Then, without a word or even one of the annoyed huffs the dwarves seemed so fond of, he knelt down and began picking everything up. Without putting distance between them beforehand. Sigrid stared at the crown of his head nearly brushing her knees. His hair was tangled and dirty, with the braids in it still keeping together, and it was brilliant shades of wheat and gold and honey.

"I came to ask whether you have some more bandages available," he said as he scooped up buttons with deft fingers, "I'm afraid Ori cut his finger trying to help cook and Dori is making a fuss about blood poisoning." He seemed quite amused by this.

"Oh, yes, of course." Sigrid cleared her throat. "There should be some in the kitchen shelf right next to the oven. In a green pot."

He put the buttons into the box she was still holding. For a moment he looked up at her. His eyes were framed by dark lashes, offsetting the cornflower blue in them. She could see the muscles of his neck and shoulders move when he looked back down. Sigrid swallowed for whatever reason.

Buttons, needles, yarn, one after another, the contents of the box returned, until finally he nodded. "All there." He made to get up but stopped abruptly to lean down. His hand landed just beside her foot and when he reached up to hand it to her his wrist brushed the fabric of her dress just a bit.

"There you go." He said softly and gave her the ribbon. With a polite nod he stood. "I'll fetch Ori a bandage then."

"Wait." Sigrid called and nearly winced when it came out quite a bit more imperative than she'd planned to.

With that centered calm way of moving he seemed to have, he turned around and cocked his eyebrow, his lips quirking just so at the corner of his lips.

"What's your name?"

He smiled. "Fíli."

He had dimples.

And as he walked out of the room, Sigrid's grip on the ribbon tightened and one thought was very dominant in her mind.

Oh, shit.

Notes: Oh Sigrid, hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave, eh?

Sorry for the cursing, but some moments in life warrant the use of expletives.