Hello y'all, for those readers tuning in once again, I hope you enjoy this first chapter of the sequel to A New World, A New Life, and for those who have just discovered this story, I suggest you read the other one first, because it will make a lot more sense that way.
Warnings: there will be graphic battle descriptions, cursing, crude humor, huge amounts of sarcasm, sexual situations, malexmale and straight relationships, discussions of religion and culture, references and possibly graphic descriptions of rape and/or torture, mental and emotional angst, inane shenanigans, and probably a few things that I am forgetting, just know this will be a very mature fanfic and if that isn't your thing, maybe give it a go, or not, up to you. Reviews will be appreciated, especially if constructive, haters gonna hate just know if you are being over the top I will block you and report you cause I am not taking your crap.
Disclaimers: All original characters belong to me, the rest belong to the great and amazing Tolkien, and who ever else owns the stuff I will likely be referencing in this fic, like Disney, Warner brothers, Bethesda Softworks, and various singers and songwriters. If you disagree with anything I write, please respect my right to have my own opinions and I will respect your right to disagree with me.
It's a little slow at the beginning, but, beyond that, enjoy!
/And I Hope that You'll Remember Me/
It had been a year since the Battle of the Five Armies and many changes had occurred in Erebor and in the lives of her dwarves, in the lives of the Company.
More and more dwarves came to the Lonely Mountain every month, resettling it's halls, bringing with them their crafts and their skills, and their families, adding to the prosperity of Erebor, it's population ever growing.
The merchant's district was always teeming with life, full of bodies and voices as dwarrows and dwarrowdams went about what were becoming their everyday lives, buy and selling wares, food, and services, bartering and talking and laughing. Dori, as the Guild Master of Erebor, his micro-managing and peacekeeping skills being put to good use, kept everyone in line and everything running as smoothly as it could in a city of dwarves, and, thus, all of the merchants were very productive, prosperous, and cooperative, if a little annoyed by the strongest member of the King's Company.
The mines were productive again, though many of the shafts had yet to be restored to workable conditions, but they were making head way, especially with Bofur and Bifur as the foremen of the entire operation. The two Broadbeams were excellent at managing all of the miners and directing them in the restoration of the shafts and proper mining operations. There had been some grumbling, initially, about the two commoners, no matter the fact that they were members of the King's Company, being in charge of the mines instead of some aristocrat from the Iron Hills, but the royal family had made it quite clear it was not up for discussion, and the grumbling quickly quieted.
The treasury of Erebor was busy distributing gold for the restoration of the city, for the all of the damage left behind by Smaug's tenure and the internment of all of his victims that they were still finding in the blocked off or closed off areas of the yet uninhabited portions of the city. There was also the matter of doling out money to pay all of the miners, smiths, and other workers necessary to refine and work with all of the raw material produced by the mines. Gloin was having quite the time managing all of the money of Erebor without actually going into the treasury, something he tried to desperately avoid, in light of what had happened the last time he had gone in there, but he was managing.
There was also the matter of the rebuilding of Dale and the still developing trade networks and agreements between Dale, Mirkwood, and Erebor.
Dale and Erebor were both being rebuilt and restored in record time, their peoples happier than they had been in a century, even if their kings were not.
Bard and Thranduil had little to do with Thorin, the now crowned and official king of Erebor, because, despite the pleas made in the letters of a woman they all mourned, neither could yet find it in themselves to forgive Thorin for causing her death, not yet at least, so, while there was peace between their kingdoms, the kings rarely interacted, Thranduil and Bard outright avoiding Thorin, most of the elves of Mirkwood following their king's lead.
But the remaining tension between the royals of the three kingdoms did not stop life from going on within their walls.
Nori kept the city in line in a different way than Dori did the different industries he watched over, because Nori was the Spymaster of Erebor. He kept track of all of the goings on in Erebor, just as he had planned, and kept trouble from brewing or from coming to fruition within the mountain, his many minions watching over the city from the many hidden passageways of the walls and rooms, some even stationed in the area surrounding Erebor, reporting back to him with the information they gathered so he could make use of it and make any decisions that needed making and deal with things as he saw fit.
When Nori decided that something more drastic or a bigger operation was needed to better deal with any information gathered the Captain of the Guard and Royal Guard, Dwalin, became involved. Nori and Dwalin would work together to deal with anyone and anything that might threaten Erebor, her king, or her people, with the help of the members of the City Guard and some of Nori's minions, both now working together to protect all that they held dear, the way they both had for years, though in very different ways, and they did so in such a way that one would not have guessed that barely a year and a half previous they could barely cooperate with each other.
Their mutual mission to protect Erebor is why Nori and Dwalin found themselves, along with a large contingent of the City Guard, tracking a band of orcs that had ventured too close to their borders.
/Oh, Should My People Fall, Then/
As he rode quietly and swiftly on his pony, alongside his lover and their comrades in arms, hot on the trail of the orcs they were tracking through the forests surrounding the Lonely Mountain, Nori could not help but think about all of the things that had changed in the year since the Battle of the Five Armies.
Nori recalled the first few months after the Battle clearly, so unlike the three weeks within the mountain that he, nor any of the other older dwarves of the Company, had any recollection of, as a flurry of activity involved in starting to get rid of the debris, put the dead to rest, make the mountain livable again, and get supplies. He thought about all of the people that had needed managing and providing for, the messages and preparations needed to get everyone who wished to come from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, and all the work that yet needed to be done to truly restore the dwarven kingdom.
The entirety of the remaining Company, sans their hobbit, whom they had sent home with Gandalf and a few chests of gold, because Bilbo would take nothing else, as the only thing he wanted was something they could not give, no matter how much they had all wanted to, had all gladly thrown themselves into the work of rebuilding their home, if only to distract them from their grief.
They had all worked themselves to the bone until Erebor was back into some semblance of working order, some networks and services having been successfully set up, even if they were basic at best, at which point Thorin gave the remaining Company members their titles and official jobs within the mountain. Nori knew that Thorin had not originally planned on giving important positions to everyone in the Company, as, though he had regarded them all as friends and allies, he had not regarded them as some of the most capable or intelligent dwarves, but that had ended up being exactly what happened, because their king felt that there was no one better to put in charge of all of the important industries of the mountain than those whose loyalty had been tested in the many perils they had found themselves assailed by during their journey to Erebor, and Thorin did not feel he could trust anyone else as much as them, knowing they would tell him what he needed to hear rather than what he wanted to, and that was what a king needed from his friends and advisors, so they had all proudly, if tiredly, taken on their new roles within the mountain and had begun work in their areas of expertise and new spheres of influence to restore Erebor to it's former glory.
But, no matter how devoted Nori was to his work, he was more devoted to his family, and he could not help but notice how much they had changed over the course of the last year, how tired they had become from working all of the time to restore their home, and to avoid dealing with their grief, grief that still weighed heavily on their shoulders, even a year later, Sam's death still haunted them all, and the weight of that grief had changed them all, and not for the better.
Ori had lost some of the strength, some of the fire, he had found in himself during their quest, and it had left him seeming, to those outside of the Company, because they knew better, as timid and quiet as he had been before their quest, before everything changed. Ori was also simply not as happy as he had been, he didn't sketch, paint, or write as much as he once had, outside of his official capacity as the Royal Scribe, instead he often just sat in the memorial garden that Thorin had commissioned to be built into the mountain side in Sam's honor, staring off into space on the bench in the middle of it, doing nothing but thinking, a melancholy expression on his face. The only time Ori seemed actually happy was when he was with the Company, when he would draw them and whatever they were doing, but, when he would look through his journal, he would always find those sketches he had made of Sam, doing everything from sleeping to fighting, and some of the light in his eyes would die as he perused his old sketches, memories of days long past haunting him.
Dori no longer seemed to take as much joy from the things that once brought him much. He owned a small tea and wine shop within the city, where he conducted his business as the Guild Master from, but he no longer fussed over vintages and the kind of teas, he would just sit at one of the small tables for customers within his shop and watch the world go by around him, instead of insisting on being a part of it, he just watched the dwarves of Erebor live their lives, as absorbed in his grieved thoughts as Ori was, the same frown upon his face. Dori's interactions with others were more subdued than they had once been, the only time he acted like some semblance of his former, mother hen self, was when he was with the Company and they would all allow him to fuss over them, take care of them, and, now, they all appreciated it, because they all knew that it meant he cared for them. The sight of Dori acting like a fusspot again always helped everyone relax, even as they remembered a time when there was one more person to fuss over.
Nori knew his brothers were hurting, but they kept it mostly to themselves, as they always had, not wanting to burden others with their problems, a habit all three sons of Fitoria shared, always wary of demanding too much of each other, and everyone else, because the Company was still grieving, especially as today was the anniversary of Sam's death, and he regretted not being there for them this day, but duty called.
Nori's thoughts drifted to the rest of the Company, the rest of his family, some whom were much more obvious in their grief than others.
Bifur had become increasingly more withdrawn over the last year, outside of his job as a foreman, he barely talked, barely carved toys, and more often than not could be found in the memorial garden just staring off into space, but, unlike Ori, you could not wake him from his thoughts, he had to wake himself. He was becoming lost to them for longer and longer periods of time, and it scared the Company, but Oin said there was nothing to be done for it medically, as he could find no reason besides grief, and exhaustion from working so hard to get the mines back up and running at full capacity, for the changes in his behavior, so all they could do was continue to take care of him, and each other, as they had been, and hope for the best.
Bofur did not smile and laugh as much as he once did, having lost some of the twinkle in his eye and love for life along with Sam, the wrongness of of her death eating at him, something still telling him it was just so inherently wrong, that she should still be alice, and that left him far less jovial than he had been. Bofur still tried to keep the spirits of the Company up though, he smiled and laughed the most for them, and was able to get them to do the same, somehow, someway, whether it be by acting like an idiot or something else. He had been glad to discover that, while it hurt them all to remember, it still comforted them, when he told all of the stories and sang the songs that Sam had for them, bringing smiles and wonder to the eyes of the little dwarrowlings of Erebor as they sat at his feet, listening intently. Those were some of the few moments when Bifur seemed to be his old self again, carving characters as his cousin told their stories.
But, sometimes, and it always surprised them when this happened, Bofur and Bifur found that a few of the dwarrowlings already knew the stories they told, mostly those newly arrived from Rhun, and it was on the nights after those discoveries that Bofur would take out the one thing of Sam's he had, the deformed dog toy that had been the first thing she had ever carved, and he would stare at it, running his hands over the uneven surfaces of the toy, and wonder if they had been wrong.
Bombur was now the Royal Cook and, as such, he ran the kitchens in charge of feeding the Company and their families, as well as all of the lesser kitchens in charge of feeding those who kept the city running, such as the City Guard. Bombur kept the small cookbook that Sam had given him close, though he had filled it by now, and he tried, like his brother, to bring levity back to the lives of the Company, through their meals. Bombur would make good food for the Company and their families, food that brought back memories of happier times, that would cause stories to be told and laughs to be heard.
Dis and Midala (Gloin's wife) had been so mad, and terribly amused, by the story of how most of the Company had been caught bathing butt naked in a fountain by Sam in Rivendell, and the prank she had pulled on them in retaliation, her subsequent reaction to Thorin's apology only making the two dwarven ladies laugh harder.
But the food also reminded the Company of what they had all lost, so some melancholy would still linger at the meals of the Company. Bombur would often find himself tearing up as he cooked, memories of days spent on the road cooking with Bilbo and Sam assailing him, and sometimes he would just have to stop whatever he was doing, especially when he was making mutton with garlic and rosemary, and breathe, just to keep his emotions in check, and those times the Company would pick up on his distress and the meal would be quiet, so Bombur's efforts simultaneously worked and backfired on him, more often than not.
Oin had simply become a more crotchety old dwarf than any of them had ever known him to be before their quest. He was short tempered and demanding of all of the healers under him as the Royal Healer and dwarf in charge of the city infirmary, where all dwarves hurt in the defense and upkeep of their home were brought to be treated. Oin was also far less forgiving of any shortcomings of any of those below him, whereas he had always been willing, before, to try and teach or coach whomever it was so that they could overcome whatever issues they had, but not now, Oin had become the tyrant of the infirmary and many of the younger healers were scared of him, when once they would not have been.
Sometimes Gloin actually had to tell Oin off when he was being too harsh, because the Company and his family were the only ones who did not have to put up with this new persona of Oin's, and he listened to them, so in those instances when Gloin, or another member of the Company, for that matter, had to tell him to take it down a notch, he listened.
It disturbed the Company that their previously rather kindly, if demanding, old git of a healer had become such a cantankerous bugger to others, but they knew that was just how his grief was manifesting, that he was pushing everyone but those closest to him away, to stave off anymore grief.
Gloin was likely the one of the Company dealing with his grief the best, the presence of his wife, Midala, and son, Gimli, who had arrived with Dis just a few short months after Erebor was reclaimed, comforting and calming him, keeping the grief from taking hold to tightly, especially since, as the Royal Banker, he was in charge of the treasury, and he was always wary of the gold, of what it could do to him again, what it might take from him again, and that only added to his stress. But Gloin, and Oin, usually, could be brought out of his melancholy thoughts by spending time with his small family, something that often had a positive affect on the rest of the Company as well, the stress of the day and any sad thoughts melting away as he talked with his wife and taught his son all manner of things, teaching him things he once would not have, had it not been for a young woman he had so misjudged at their first meeting.
Balin was Thorin's Royal Advisor, so he sat in on all meetings, discussions, and anything official that might require some kind of political, social, or economic finagling, and it was draining to the old dwarf. Balin was less and less the energetic, kind, and grandfatherly old dwarf that most of them knew, all of the politics and underhandedness that came with it wearing him down, making him more detached and clinical in his dealings with others, outside of the Company of course, earning him a reputation of being a bit of a hard ass, though he could still charm people when necessary. All of the hope and faith in the goodness of the world that Sam had cultivated in Balin, things he had not felt since long before they had met, with her simple awe of the world, her fortitude, and her selflessness, had died with her, and he was again reminded of how cruel the world could be. Balin's grief and renewed lack of faith in the world had made him act like a more typical politician that the truly good dwarf the Company was familiar with, and while it bothered them, they could understand.
Thorin, unsurprisingly, had simply become more grumpy and standoffish that he had been, putting off many of the aristocrats that had come from the Iron Hills, ostensibly to help rebuild Erebor, but really only to get some of the gold, the greedy buggers. If he had been difficult to deal with before, he was even worse now, becoming almost unbearably grumpy, demanding, and rigid, making all of the meetings he and Balin had to attend go much less smoothly that they would have before, but none could doubt the devotion of the king to his people and his kingdom, how much he had already managed to do in a year, so everyone kept their discontent with his attitude to themselves. The Company, and Dis, seemed to be the only ones who could make him smile or relax at all, and they were the only ones that got away with telling him he was being an ass and ridiculously unpleasant, telling him that it was not helping anyone rebuild Erebor or take care of their people.
Thorin would take their advice, and relax a bit in the memorial garden, remembering what kind of king the woman it was built in honor of had wanted him to be, and the guilt that came with the realization that he wasn't being that king would make him act more cordial, but his grief would, inevitably, cause him to return to his normal attitude within a few days, but those who knew him knew that was all they could ask of him, he wasn't ready for anything else.
Fili's role as the Crown Prince of Erebor was taking it's toll on him, the constant demands for him to be proper and respectable, to act like a proper prince should, was demanding and grating on his nerves, because he could not act like himself, because the members of the court did not want him to act like himself, because they thought that silly, young dwarf he had been was not someone who was fit to rule one day, so he tried to conform to their wishes, and it made him miserable. Fili had become more subdued and serious, even when he was with the Company, because he was just so tired and stressed by everything that was being asked of him, and his grief just made him more so, darkening what sense of humor he had retained, making him, overall, a much less happy and sweet dwarf than he had been, the fact that Kili was not acting like the goofball they all knew only darkening the golden haired prince further.
Kili was simply not acting like the young dwarf they had all known his entire life. He was more angry and irritable that he had been, always seeming to be in a perpetually bad mood, too much like Thorin for even Thorin to be comfortable with, the king not having any idea what to make of the change in his youngest nephew, everyone more alarmed by the changes in the youngest prince than anyone else, save maybe Bifur, his sense of humor and playfulness all but gone. Kili performed all of his duties with a scowl on his face and a bad attitude, even as he tried to be the prince that everyone expected him to be, giving up on preserving the person he had been in his attempts to be a proper prince, his rebelliousness and drive to prove to everyone he could be who they wanted him to be and still be himself dying with Sam.
The only time anyone saw any trace of the Kili they had all known were those moments when they were all sitting around a warm hearth at night, just talking, and then they would see some of his previous silliness return as he told old stories of pranks long since pulled and mischief managed, just not enough for them to be convinced he would be alright, none of them knowing just what it was that Kili had lost when Sam had died, and how the knowledge that he would forever be alone, without his One, had affected him.
Dis did not know what to do with the changes that had come over her sons and her brother, the changes alarming and saddening her, even as she realized it had been the price to be paid for the reclamation of Erebor, because she had known, no matter what happened, whether they succeeded or they failed, none of them would ever be the same, the changes she saw had simply not been what she had expected, the reason for them even more so. The Princess of Erebor wished she could have met the young woman that had affected her loved ones so, who had made such an impression on them, and whose death hard hurt them all so horribly, Midala sharing in the sentiment.
But the others were not the only ones to have changed, for Nori himself, and Dwalin, had changed drastically, their lives had changed drastically in the last year.
In the midst of their grief and exhaustion in the months after the Battle, after everything had changed so much, Nori and Dwalin had found comfort and love in each other's arms, finally admitting to themselves something they had been dancing around and avoiding for years, something that had only become more obvious over the course of their quest, the changes in their relationship and everything that had happened after Erebor was reclaimed acting as a catalyst, forcing them to admit to themselves that they were attracted to each other and interested in each other romantically, so they had finally taken the plunge, taken the last step towards the biggest personal emotional risk either had ever taken, and possibly biggest mistake either had ever made, and had quietly begun courting each other.
It had been the best decision Dwalin and Nori had ever made in their entire lives.
Despite everything that had happened, Dwalin and Nori were happy with each other, regardless of their differences. Both had come to accept that there were just things about each other that they could not change, and realized they didn't want to change, learning to agree to disagree and just enjoy each other, because, life was so short, who knew how long they would get to be together, death having struck too close to home too recently for either of them to be willing to waste anymore time being afraid of what might happen, instead of enjoying what could be, however long it was theirs to enjoy.
Dwalin and Nori comforted each other in their grief, their budding and already strong relationship only growing stronger as they worked through the hard times and the loss and the exhaustion of their never ending mission to restore Erebor. They gave each other strength when times got hard, a shoulder to lean on when it all became too much, when the changes they saw in their friends and family became too much to bear, when their fears and regrets haunted them in the dead of night, and they needed something solid to ground them, they had each other, the increased intimacy and trust of their relationship making everything easier to bear, making their attraction quickly turn to love.
But, in those moments when Nori and Dwalin were truly in sync, when they were making love, their hearts beating as one, when everything seemed right with the world, for the most part, because his brothers and most of the Company lived and were alright, or getting there at least, when everything seemed peaceful, Nori still felt guilt and sorrow and loss over Sam's death, it still haunted him, like it haunted them all, because it shouldn't have happened, Sam should still be alive.
"Nori."
Nori felt a hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts, and he turned, only to find Dwalin looking at him with a mix of affection, worry, and apprehension, as it was not like the Spymaster to be distracted, especially when they were about to search a barely few hours old orc camp, hot on the trail of the orc pack that had ventured too close to their home.
Nori only smiled tightly at his love, tapping their foreheads together lightly in assurance and appreciation of his worry, before saying," It's nothin', I'm ready."
Dwalin searched Nori's eyes for a moment, assuring himself that his lover was really alright, the only trace that he wasn't was the sorrow in his eyes, the same he had in his own eyes, the anniversary of the Battle and being separated from their family on such an important day weighing on them both, but they had a job to do.
Dwalin nodded, tapping his forehead to Nori's and holding it there for a moment before signaling their men to move into the deserted camp," Let's go."
Nori gave a slight nod and, with a final squeeze of Nori's shoulder, they both moved slowly and silently into the abandoned camp.
/Surely I'll do the Same/
The contingent of the City Guard, Dwalin, and Nori spread out throughout the remnants of the orc camp within a clearing in a grove of trees, looking around for information as to why the orcs were there and what they might have with them, such as prisoners or stolen goods, as well as to try and determine where they were going, though they could obviously track them easily enough since the creatures were making no attempts to hide their presence.
Nori wandered through the camp, his sharp eyes raking the ground for anything that might prove useful or informative, and then he caught a flash of light from his torch glinting off of something metal, hidden in the dirt. Nori approached what he surmised to be a dagger, sword, or some such that was accidentally left behind when it had been covered by the dirt, hoping it might tell them how well armed the orcs were and any precautions that might need to be taken before confronting them. Nori crouched down and wiped the dirt away from the obscured object with his hand, only to go stock still as all of the air left his lungs and his eyes widened, staring at what he had just found.
It couldn't be, it just couldn't be.
There, lying in the dirt, lay a sword, a curved sword, the likes of which he had not seen since before Nori and his comrades had been left to rot in the elven dungeons of Mirkwood.
Nori picked up the sword carefully, reverently, taking a moment to ram his torch into the ground so he could hold the sword more easily and inspect it, his heart rate rising as adrenaline soared through his veins, as hope filled Nori's heart, turning the weapon so that the details of the blade and the pommel were visible.
And there it was.
There was an achingly familiar and terribly unique pattern on the pommel of the sword, worked into the leather of the grip and the metal of the handle, a pattern he had once been told was a combination of two other patterns called Celtic Knots and Greek Key. Once again Nori felt all of the breath leave his lungs, because he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Nori couldn't believe he was holding this sword in his hands, and he couldn't help but hope, even though he knew it wasn't wise to do so when the sword was not definitive proof, but, given what it might mean, Nori just couldn't help it, it was too good to be true.
But then Nori's good sense returned to him, remembering that none of Sam's weapons had been recovered after the battle, some of Nori's hope dying as he realized he might have just found a trophy that some random orc took from the battlefield. So Nori looked more carefully at the blade, angling it towards his torch, only to find that the blade of the sword, under all of the dirt and grime that covered it from being partially buried, was in excellent condition. There were no nicks, dents, or bent portions, nothing characteristic of weapons that had been used by orcs, who were loathe to take care of them properly. This sword bore none of those marks, it had been properly taken care of, properly sharpened at the right angle with a whetstone, properly washed, properly everything.
No orc had used this sword for any length of time in the last year.
But someone had definitely been using it.
It had been in this condition the last time Nori saw it.
The last time Nori had seen the sword was when Sam had used it in Mirkwood.
Nori's eyes widened in realization.
Nori jumped up, grabbed his torch, and went in search of Dwalin, who he quickly found poking around the edge of the camp.
"Dwalin."
The way Nori spoke his name instantly had Dwalin's attention, the larger dwarf swiftly turning to face his lover, not expecting the hope and joy that he found in the former thief's eyes as they made eye contact, having grown so used to seeing some trace of sorrow or grief in them in the past year.
Dwalin just cocked an eyebrow at Nori, searching his eyes, looking for some clue as to what had brought his mood so high, confused by this development in light of their current situation and the date, until Nori held out the sword, then Dwalin's world came crashing to a halt.
Dwalin stared down at the familiar sword in his love's hands, uncomprehending, until he took it in his own hands, just as reverently as Nori had, and looked at it some more, lowering his head to study the blade, a quick reality check reminding him to be skeptical of something that seemed a miracle.
But, as Dwalin looked over the blade, seeing the same lack of indications that it had been used by an orc, his eyes widened to the size of saucers as he came to the same conclusions Nori had, raising his head to look at Nori, the looks in their eyes identical.
Despite the fact that both of them knew better, despite the fact that the evidence was almost non-existent, despite the fact that the odds were against them, despite the fact that too much time had gone by, Dwalin and Nori had hope.
Dwalin and Nori had hope that Sam was alive.
/Confined in the Mountain Halls We/
I hope you all enjoyed that. ;)
So, this time around I plan on sticking to approximately 5,000 word chapters because they are easier to edit, and crank out, and because I have less time on my hands now to write, but I still want to give y'all relatively regular updates.
I will still try to update at least once a week, still trying for more than that, but no promises, and, if I miss a week for whatever reason, I am sorry, just give me some time before you start poking me.
Reviews are always appreciated! Until next time! ;)
