Kurt felt Blaine's absence every morning when Blaine left their bed before sunrise. His back grew cold without the presence of his Dwarf's body pressed close behind his, even though Blaine made it a point to tuck Kurt's rabbit skin blanket around his body and kiss him on the cheek before he departed. Blaine had never left him before sunrise before, his job in the Mines being lesser than most Dwarves because of his handicap, and not the sort that forced him out of bed before the cock crowed. But Kurt let him go without question. He didn't mean to badger his Dwarf. Kurt knew little of Blaine's life in the Mountain before the Elf came to live with him. They discussed only morsels of the past in the time they spent together. There remained sorrows among their histories that for Elf and Dwarf were still too great. They felt they had time enough to discuss the past after they enjoyed a wealth more of the present. These early mornings might be a usual part of Blaine's schedule that came with the changing of the seasons, as the world leapt from Autumn quickly into Winter. Kurt figured that whatever task Blaine was bound to, Blaine probably deemed it unimportant, or else he would discuss the matter with his Elf in time.

The temperature above ground had started to fall, and the sun set earlier each night, but neither were noticed by most inhabitants below ground where the hearths remained lit always. But Kurt felt them. He felt them in his blood, as if the sun took to bed there. He felt them beneath his skin, as if that was the place the animals burrowed to hide from the frost. He felt them in his body, which had become Blaine's refuge, and so Kurt welcomed the shorter days as never before that brought Blaine to him sooner.

Kurt didn't normally venture down into the Mines. Everything below ground was hot and loud. Hammers clanged against metal and the furnaces were forever being bellowed. The sound of whistling and hammering thundered in Kurt's ears, and then the Dwarves themselves – yelling and laughing and singing on end. It combined to form a tireless din of which Kurt could not escape, and when he heard it, he longed for the soothing silence of his Forests, the refreshing touch of its pools and waterfalls, and the strawberry patch of his stepmother.

Nothing since he had moved to the Mountain had tasted or smelt as sweet.

Nothing, that was, except Blaine himself.

Kurt knew that for several hours a day, Blaine was among those in the Mine, which gave Kurt leisure to explore and make his presence known, but Kurt didn't feel comfortable there. Aside from Blaine's kin, the Dwarves were not entirely friendly towards Kurt. Kurt would leave the Mountain at times while Blaine worked, gathering berries and roots and nuts. He would commune with the trees and listen to the birds sing, but as the world above became laden with ice and put itself to rest, Kurt spent most of his time in their living quarters below ground, and he was happy, but a little lonely until Blaine returned.

But one day, Blaine left Kurt in bed earlier than any morning that had come before. He tucked him in tight and kissed him on the cheek, then left for the Mines…and didn't return. Kurt wasn't worried that Blaine had left him. Blaine loved him – of that he never had any doubt. But he often feared that Blaine would be injured working in the Mines. From the way the amount of singing and laughing and hammering had increased by the Dwarves down below, Kurt could only assume something was going on – something big. Something that occupied much of his Dwarf's time, and that caused Kurt worry, as Blaine tired easily. But the Elf would know if Blaine had been hurt. The Dwarves never suffered anything silently. A great cry would go up that Kurt would be able to hear. It had happened once before since he'd been there, when another Dwarf slipped and fell victim to the flame.

Besides, Kurt would feel it. He knew he would feel it.

His heart would shatter if anything happened to his Dwarf.

It was the following morning when a light tolling – an airy, musical sound of metal touching metal – pulled Kurt from sleep. Kurt didn't remember falling to sleep. He hadn't wanted to. He would have waited up for days till Blaine returned. But the Mountain got so warm overnight, the racket of hammering almost lyrical, setting a rhythm in his brain, the sound of singing reminding him of days long ago when his stepmother would sing him and his stepbrother to sleep.

Kurt drifted off with a tear in his eyes, but it had dried by the time he opened them again.

And there was his Dwarf, dressed in the worn leather tunic that he wore when he worked, constructing something large and tall at the foot of their bed. Kurt didn't disturb him, just watched the Dwarf work with a smile growing ever on his face, wondering what fanciful bit of Dwarf magic this creation would turn out to be. A small gasp, or change in Kurt's breathing, or maybe the way he slid down on the bed to get a better look, caught Blaine's attention. He turned his head and tired eyes to look upon his Elf, and smiled.

“I didn't mean to wake you,” Blaine apologized, even though he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion himself.

“You had not,” Kurt assured him, making his way to the end of the bed and giving Blaine a tender kiss on his smiling lips. “I was only half-asleep when I heard you come in.” Blaine nodded, sitting beside Kurt for he was now finished with his work, and before them stood a great metal sculpture, polished and gleaming silver, reminiscent to Kurt of an evergreen tree.

“What is this, Blaine?” Kurt asked, eyes wide with wonder as they took it in, every inch of hard metal glittering as the firelight fell on it, making it appear liquid and alive.

“It's a tree,” Blaine said with immense pride puffing up his Dwarf chest. “Or it's meant to be. Tis tradition this time of year to keep a tree, to decorate it, so as to make it festive and merry. I thought you might object to me bringing a real tree below ground, though I warn you, you'll see them all over, and for that, I apologize.” Kurt took Blaine in his arms to quell his apology, but Blaine hurried to continue. “But I promise their purpose will not be wasted. When they wither and dry, they will be used to feed the furnace down below. And come Spring, we will plant more. Replace what was taken.”

“You need not apologize to me,” Kurt said, kissing Blaine behind the ear where his skin was warm and soft, and where he smelled of fire and cedar. “But if you would like, I will gladly convey your apologies to the trees outside when I wander above ground again.”

Blaine smiled shyly and turned loving golden eyes on his Elf.

“I would like that,” he said in a whisper, as if in fear that another Dwarf might hear him begging an Elf to apologize to the trees.

“But, what are the trees for?” Kurt asked. “Why do you bring them below ground and adorn them?”

“For Durin's Day,” Blaine said. Kurt shook his head to indicate his confusion, waiting politely for Blaine to continue.

“What's Durin's Day?”

“Durin was the father of the fathers of the Eldest race of Dwarves, and he is honored the first day of the Dwarves New Year, which is the first day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter. But for those of us who have spent any time among the Hobbits in the Shire, we keep our trees up through their holiday of Yule, and we give gifts, in Hobbit fashion.”

At that point, Blaine reached into the pocket of his leather trousers and pulled forth a pouch made of a finely woven material Kurt knew did not come from below ground. Blaine would have had to already possess it, or it would have been sent for. Either way, it had to be dear.

“What is this?” Kurt said, taking the pouch in his hands, sighing at the way it slipped against his skin, delicate like a wisp of cloud. It tied at the top with a silken cord, and it had weight to it, as if something hid inside.

“It's a gift,” Blaine said, nudging Kurt with a gentle hand. “For you.”

Kurt untied the cord that held the pouch closed and reached inside. His fingers fell on something cool and metal, and he wrapped his fingertips around it. Kurt knew without seeing what Blaine's thoughtful present was, but the moment he opened his hand and laid eyes on it, his heart stuttered to a halt.

It was ring – a singularly spectacular and precious ring, forged of a similar metal as the tree. It was formed as a vine of delicately etched leaves, one breaking from the rest, dangling by its edge and ready to fall. It had been polished and then tinted with a luster that made the leaves sparkle with a green sheen. Kurt turned it over between his fingers, unable to stop staring at it. It was more than a ring. It was a true work of art.

“You made this?” Kurt gasped.

“Aye,” Blaine said, taking the ring from Kurt and fitting it over his left ring finger, where the metal settled against Kurt's flesh and molded perfectly. “I did.”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt said, holding his hand up to take best advantage of the light. “It's miraculous.”

“No,” Blaine said. “I'll agree it was beautiful before. It's miraculous now only because it's on you.”

Kurt put his hand to his heart and stared at his Dwarf, glowing in the warmth of the firelight, his tired eyes bright with a renewed purpose – to share this moment to its fullest with the Elf he loved.

“I wish you had told me, Blaine,” Kurt said, his voice steeped in regret, “for I have not a thing to give you.”

“Kurt, you've given me everything,” Blaine said, ducking his head, eyes tracing across the long lines of Kurt's hand where it rested over his heart, the ring a compliment to Kurt's deceptively dainty fingers, just as Blaine had hoped it would be. “You left your home for me, you protected me, you risked your life for me. You…you loved me.” Blaine's eyes traveled to Kurt's face, full of gladness and love. “You give me that love every day. There is nothing else in all the world that I want or need as long as I have you by my side.”