Ori's Words
Dís sat at her daughter's side, still silent. Lili, her daughter, looked over at her, uncertain what her mother's expression was like through the thick black veil she wore. Dís hadn't spoken in hours. Not since the funerals for her brother and sons. And she hadn't eaten in days.
"Mama?" Lili asked. Dís stirred a little, but didn't move. The young blond haired dwarf maiden tried to push a cup of water into her mother's hands, but Dís would not take it. "Won't you drink at least, a little?"
"No." Her voice sounded like dying wind. "No thank you."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Lili looked up to see two dwarves walking toward them. One was the stocky, stalwart form of Dain, their distant kinsman, who was now king under the mountain. Only he wasn't clad in the finery that would mark him as such.
Perhaps, Lili thought, he knew it would only add salt to her mother's wounds. For Thorin should have been. If not Thorin, then Fili. If not Fili, then Kili. But none of them would be king under the mountain now, they were gone. All three.
The other figure was a leaner, shorter dwarf that Lili had seen before, but from a distance. One of the fourteen. He wasn't as old as the others, and he had a sweet, pleasant face framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His reminded her almost, of the face of a dwarfling, eager to please, and to make people happy.
Lili couldn't say why, but she was glad this dwarf was with Dain.
"Good day, Lady Dís," Dain said, pausing a few steps away. "Lady Lili."
Just in those few words, Lili could hear his accent. He was clearly a dwarf from the Iron Hills.
"Your highness," Lili said softly.
"Good day, Cousin Dain," Dís said.
Dís had yet to address Dain as king under the mountain. She probably never would. But Dain did not take offense. He hadn't yet, and Lili knew he never would, even if Dís never acknowledge him as king for the rest of her life.
His hands went behind his back, and he looked at the ground, rocking on his heels.
"Well, um, yes," he stammered. "My ladies, this is Master Ori. He's a distant kinsman of the House of Durin, and, well, he had hoped to meet you."
"Um, hello," the dwarf said, lifting a hand and giving a tentative wave.
Lili looked at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, and the dwarf smiled, hastily pulling his hood from off his head. Unbeknownst to him, it left his hair mussed. But Lili didn't mind. His smile was sweet, and as sincere as any she had ever seen.
"Hello," she returned. Her mother did not speak at all.
"Won't you have a seat Master Ori?" Lili offered.
Dain harrumphed and turned away, his boots sounding heavy as their echo faded.
Ori, clearly self conscious, seated himself stiffly on the stone bench opposite the ladies. He twisted his hood in his hands and looked down.
"I um," he began before his voice caught like a nervous youth, and he stopped himself. "I can see the family resemblance." He twisted his hood in his hands as if it were a cloth he was trying to wring dry. "You look like Fili, Miss Lili. Except-" He stammered, and his face blushed. "Except prettier."
Lili tried to smile. "Fili and I took after our father. Kili looked more like mother and Uncle Thorin."
Ori nodded. "Yes," he said softly.
"Master Ori," Dís cut in, her voice like a knife. "Why are you here?"
"I was, um," he stammered, flinching at the sharp tone in Dís' voice.
"I was worried," he continued, "about you. Um, Lady Dis."
"Thank you," Dís said, her tone faintly bitter. "But you needn't worry."
"Well," Ori's feet patted a rhythm on the floor, and he twisted his hood again. "I noticed you haven't eaten or drunken anything in- gracious in days. Lots of people are worried."
"Master Ori," Dís said, lifting her chin.
Ori flinched, but remained where he was, meeting Dís' eyes with a mixture of fear and determination. For a moment, Lili imagined him facing the hordes of orcs with this same expression, and her own heart swelled in admiration.
"Yes, mum?" he asked softly.
"Master Ori, do you have children?"
Ori visibly swallowed. "No, mum. I'm not married."
"And not having children, you wouldn't have any that have died."
Ori shifted his weight on the stone bench. "That's true, Mum."
"So you cannot possibly understand how I feel." Dís' breath was like ice.
Her mother's eyes were fire as Dís thrust to her feet, and Lili half wondered if she would try to strike Ori. Lili looked at her, reaching out to put a hand on her arm.
"Mama-" she said.
Dís pulled her hand away.
Dís' hands balled into fists at her sides, but she remained where she stood.
"You may have known my sons," Dís seethed. "But you cannot possibly understand the hollowness in my heart, because they are not your children. You cannot fathom, you cannot understand how I feel. How dare you come to me, and try to comfort me?"
Ori's eyes fell to the stone floor beneath them. He heaved a breath. Lili noticed he had stopped twisting his hood.
After a long moment, he looked up. Something seemed to change in him. The same kindness was there, but it was mingled with a look of firm courage as well. "I don't understand how you feel, mum," he said softly. "I can't pretend to. I won't pretend to." His eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "But I do know this. Your sons were great men. Greatness flowed in their blood. I knew they came from noble parents. And I know they loved their mother." Ori shot a glance at Lili. "And their sister too."
He looked down at his hood, a limp, twisted lump in one hand. "And I know they'd worry about you, like the rest of us. They wouldn't want you to pine away and slowly starve to death."
Ori sighed. "They'd want you to live, to heal, as much as you could, and maybe someday to find things to be happy about. I don't think they would expect you to be the same again, because that can't ever be. But they'd want you to be happy. Maybe-" Ori swallowed audibly. "Maybe you could try. For their sakes."
His words echoed away, and then silence fell.
Dís did not speak, though she fell again to the stone bench beside Lili, her hands gripping the lip of stone she sat on.
After a moment, Ori rose to his feet, shifting his weight.
Once again he was the same shy, polite dwarf he had been minutes before. He hit his thigh weakly with his twisted hood, and turned away. "Sorry for interrupting. I, um- goodbye."
He started away, his boots tapping as he went. But something in Lili brought her to her feet, and she trotted after the dwarf.
"Master Ori," she said, reaching out and touching his arm.
Ori stopped, and turned toward her. Meeting her gaze, the dwarf blushed and dropped his eyes. Once again, he was twisting his hood. "Yes miss?"
Lili's hand tightened upon his arm. She could feel the shifting sinews of his muscles beneath the skin of his forearm. He was stronger than he looked. "Thank you," she said at last.
Ori's face grew an even darker shade, and he shuffled his feet. "You're welcome, miss," he said. And then, his other hand reached out, and covered hers where it rested on his forearm. His eyes looked up, captured hers, and held. "You're quite welcome."
"I would like the chance to talk with you again," she said. "Later."
Ori's shy smile warmed her. "I would like that," he said. "Um, goodbye."
Ori withdrew and turned away.
Lili watched him go for a few moments before she turned back. A smile touched Lili's lips as her mother, the cup of water in her hand, lifted the black of her veil, and took a sip.