AN: Hello, one and all!
I was watching The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey and out of the damn blue, I had a storm of feels about Dwalin and Dis, and DwalinXDis. Dwalis... Dwis? Is there a name for this pairing? I think there should be a name for this pairing.
Anyway! I wanted to put these feels into words, and it wound up being a mix of movie-verse and canon, but there is a heavy dose of movie verse. The ages are more in line with the movie because Thorin isn't a total fossil and Dwalin is his teacher as opposed to being 26 years younger.
There is angst, and there are spoilers for An Unexpected Journey, Desolation of Smaug and There and Back Again. Or at least, what I hope will be spoilers for There and Back Again.
I think I've made this clear before, but I'll state it again: I NEED US TO BE INTRODUCED TO DIS. I NEED BILBO TO MEET DIS. I NEED DWALIN TO TELL DIS ABOUT BOFA.
THESE ARE THINGS THAT I NEED, GUYS. Please?
I have fudged quite a bit about the details, and I've made it up as I went along more often than not, but there you go.
There is Bagginshield, and Dis and Dwalin.
And just to make it very clear: There is angst and hurt and character death. I'm sorry!
With that said, enjoy!
Before Smaug, Erebor was the jewel of the eastern world. Durin's Folk had a home. The oldest son of the line of Durin was crowned as the King Under the Mountain, ruling over his people. Thorin had his grandfather and grandmother, his parents, his sister and his brother.
Before Smaug, Dis would dance with her young son in her arms after dinner, and Thorin would smile, and Frerin would laugh. Balin would spend the day by the king's side, advising him and keeping the princes out of trouble. The people Dwalin, son of Fundin, loved most were happy.
Before Smaug, Dwalin's life was good.
After Smaug, after the flight from Erebor and endless hours of trekking across the wilderness, Dis never danced. She guarded her young son closely, never letting anyone but her husband, brothers and parents near him. Thorin never smiled; he screamed in his sleep and no one ever talked about it. Frerin wandered around in a daze except when battle was near. Then, he became a crazed man, anxious to fight and kill whatever threat was near his family.
After Smaug, Thror lost his mind with the death of his wife in the fires, and Thrain and his wife Gilda, the only reason Thrain and their children never lost heart, refused to speak to him unless it was necessary. Gilda never forgave her father in law for bringing Smaug down on their people.
After Smaug came Azanulbizar, the day Dis lost her husband, the day Fili and the unborn babe lost their father. It was the day Thorin won his name, the day Thrain was lost in the battle, and the day Frerin and Thror lost their lives. Dwalin lost the woman he'd have married in the Dimrill Dale, but worse was their return to Ered Luin.
Dis had stayed behind, not at all happy with her husband, brothers, father and grandfather going off to battle while she remained, and when they returned, she was there waiting. Heavy with child, Dis left Fili with Gilda in the castle and waited in the gates for their return. When she saw Thorin leading what was left of their army, with so many missing and so many wounded being carried behind them, it was the first time he'd ever seen Dis, daughter of Thrain, cry.
When he stood in silence as Thorin told her that her husband, and their grandfather, father and brother were dead or taken captive, Dis let out a scream that haunted his nightmares to that day. She staggered where she stood, and he ran to catch her before she fell to her knees, screaming and sobbing and sick with grief, and all he had to offer was support.
She mourned each for a year; one for Kilrin, one for Thror, one for Thrain and one for Frerin. She didn't speak to anyone but her boys and her immediate family for those four years, leaving her mother to take charge. Gilda refused to believe Thrain was dead; she had seen her husband survive war and death so many times before that she'd not believe him dead until she saw his body. For the first four years of Kili's life, he knew only his brother, mother, grandmother, uncle, Balin and Dwalin.
Those were the longest four years of Dwalin's considerably long life. He protected Thorin, Gilda, Dis, Balin and the boys as Thorin and Gilda carved out a new life for their people in Dunland and later Ered Luin. He walked beside Dis and Thorin when Gilda was laid to rest, holding Fili and Kili's hands while their mother and uncle said goodbye to their grandmother. The dowager Queen Under the Mountain, ruler of the Blue Mountains in her husband's absence and her son's inexperience, the one thing keeping Thorin and Dis sane, had died in her sleep.
Dain Ironfoot attended the funeral, and Dwalin had to restrain Thorin a month later when Dain tried to pressure Dis into marrying him, using the boys and their lack of father figure as an excuse. Dwalin didn't want to stop him from murdering Dain but Dis thanked him for it later, saying she didn't want the boys to see their uncle commit murder at their grandmother's funeral.
Dwalin fell in love with Dis, daughter of Thrain, during those four years of mourning, and for eighty years after, he hated himself for it. He'd respected Dis and her husband, and had been one of the ones to drink to their good health at their wedding. He loved the boys, and every time he saw the little blonde cub named Fili or Kili looked at something a certain way, he saw Kilrin and it made him sick to think that he would even consider pursuing the widow of a brother-in-arms. He hadn't planned it but it was the situation he found himself in.
What made it worse was that Thorin knew about it before he did, and the first and only time they spoke of it was when they were on their way West, to meet Gandalf and the burglar he had in mind for their quest.
He and Dis had gotten into a fight before him, Balin, Thorin and the lads left Ered Luin. She'd wanted Dwalin to agree with her about keeping the boys in Ered Luin while Thorin went on the quest. If he needed company that badly, she'd said, she'd go with him. She said she'd lost enough because of Smaug; she wouldn't lose her boys too. And he'd agreed; Mahal knew he agreed. If he'd had his way, the whole farce of a journey would have been cancelled, or at the very least, his brother would stay in Ered Luin to guard Dis and the boys while they were gone, but he didn't always get his way.
He'd stayed quiet, seeing a war of Durins brewing before him, and simply said that he would support whatever decision Thorin and the lads came to.
That had been the wrong thing to say. Dis turned into a snarling she-wolf and fought Thorin tooth and nail, dragging Dwalin into the fight. By the end, she'd sworn that if anything happened to her boys, they'd never darken her doorway again if they knew what was good for them.
When they left, she saw them off, but the only goodbye she gave to either was a brief nod to Dwalin and a letter to Thorin. He never actually found out what was in that letter, and if the boys knew, they didn't speak of it. She'd hugged Balin, and the boys complained loudly as she held them to her. No one mentioned the tears in Kili's eyes as he tucked a stone into his pocket, or the way Fili's hands shook as she gave him one of the only daggers made by their father that Thorin had managed to save from Azanulbizar. She made him promise to return it to her when she joined them in Erebor, and Fili swore he would.
Their fight rattled Dwalin, and it bothered him all the way to the borders of the Shire. He'd known Dis all of her life and he'd heard her raise her voice plenty of times, but she'd never raised it to him. Half a dozen times a day, he found himself thinking, 'We shouldn't have parted like that', and considered asking Balin for a sheet of paper and quill. He told himself he'd write an apology note and send it the next time they were near civilized folk.
He got as far as borrowing the paper, and he sat by the fire the night before their group parted ways with the paper in hand. The next morning, Thorin was leaving for the Iron Hills in the north, Fili and Kili were taking the long way round, Balin was going to meet with the other members of the Company, and Dwalin was taking his time and enjoying the break before the quest. They were to meet at the Burglar's house in two months' time.
Thorin, having said good night to Fili and Kili, joined Dwalin by the fire, Balin already fast asleep near the boys. Out of reflex, Dwalin's hand moved to hide the spot of parchment that bore Dis' name in Khuzdul. The movement caught Thorin's eye and he glanced over, seeing the parchment. He rolled his eyes and said,
"Are you going to write to her then?"
The shock of the question stunned Dwalin, which, after guarding Thrain and Gilda's children for all of their lives, was no small feat. "I just thought-."
"Dwalin, I know, Fili and Kili know, Balin knows, Dain certainly knows." His contempt for the ruler of the Iron Hills couldn't have been as obvious as Thorin's expression made him think it was. "And I'm reasonably sure Dis knows. If you don't send that letter and put us all out of our misery, I swear to Mahal I may just listen to my nephews and send it for you."
"You wouldn't." Dwalin shuffled the parchment out of Thorin's reach, just to be cautious.
"Send it, or I may just have to prove you wrong.", Thorin warned. "Now, I'm going to get some sleep so good night."
"Night.", Dwalin replied as Thorin stood. A moment after his friend turned away, Dwalin asked, "Thorin…"
Thorin sighed. "Dwalin, I've seen you watching my sister since before Kili was born. Fili spent the first ten years of his life wondering if you were Kili's father. If my mother asked me once if you were ever going to propose, she must have asked me a thousand times, and Balin asked twice as often. Send the letter. Give Dis a wedding to plan; it'll take her mind off of things, even if only for a very short while."
"And you're… okay with it?"
"There's no one I trust more to protect my family." Thorin shrugged. "Kilrin was my brother and I loved him, but so are you and I think you'd make Dis happy. Besides, you can't possibly be a worse brother through marriage than Dain, and at least my nephews like you. Now good night."
That was the last time they spoke of it, and Dwalin was up until the small hours of the night writing the letter by the glow of the fire. He carried it in his pockets all the way to Laketown.
When they emerged from the barrels and Dwalin wondered if there was something between his friend and the burglar that he'd missed before, he checked the letter. The ink was smudged and indecipherable, and between dealing with the Master of Laketown, Bard the Bowman and planning the last leg of the journey to the mountain, he had no time to think of re-writing it.
Then, Erebor happened. Smaug woke up, Laketown burned, Smaug died, Thranduil and Bard wanted treasure, and Thorin went mad. He'd never seen his friend as enraged as he'd been while threatening Bilbo, and he'd never seen someone as heartbroken as the Hobbit was when Gandalf took him away.
Standing behind the gates of Erebor and waiting for war, Dwalin wondered if Erebor and the Arkenstone were cursed. What else explained the madness and misery they seemed to bring? He had little time to think on it: he needed worry about the armies coming to attack their Company; about protecting the Company, the boys, Thorin and his brother; about where Gandalf had taken their Hobbit and if he was alright; and about Dis, about what she would do if anything happened to her boys and brother.
Dis' love for her one remaining brother was matched only by her occasional hatred of him. If anything happened to them, Dwalin would be the one to tell her, and he pitied the creature that harmed them. They may survive the Company, Dwalin and perhaps even the battle itself, but they would not outlive Dis. She would make damn sure of that.
The battle came and went. Their Company survived, their Hobbit survived, his brother had survived yet another war intact, Dain got off his lazy, good for nothing backside and came to help them, and Erebor was theirs. Durin's Folk had a home again, and Dwalin's relief was swallowed by gut wrenching grief.
Thorin was dead. Fili was dead. Kili was dead. Dwalin wanted to lie down beside their tombs and never breathe the free air again. The stillness of death was better than living in a world without his best friend, his brother-in-arms. It was better than breathing and knowing Fili and Kili would never see him ask their mother to marry him. Dying would have been easier than telling Dis that he couldn't save her brother and sons.
But he didn't die. He kept living, he kept breathing, and he left Erebor as soon as could be arranged. He travelled with Balin in the spring, two months after the burial, Bilbo's sobs as he sat by Thorin's cot ringing in their ears. They were going to Ered Luin, to the Blue Mountains. They were going home, and Dwalin had never been more miserable in all his long life.
They shadowed Gandalf and Bilbo through the Misty Mountains, staying near enough that they were within earshot if something happened but far enough that they could keep to themselves. They were barely able to deal with their own grief, let alone attempt to help with his. They'd lost a friend, a brother, sons, nephews. Children, really. Bilbo had lost a future, and neither son of Fundin was sure that Bilbo knew how to process that.
Balin said that he'd go and visit their Hobbit in a few months, to see how he was getting on. Dwalin said that if Dis didn't kill him, he'd join him.
The miles between Erebor and Ered Luin melted away faster than they had any right to, and it seemed that Dwalin blinked and he was before the mountain gates. A familiar dwarrow lady stood between the gates, waiting for them. Under Dis' dry eyes, Dwalin had never felt so small in his entire life.
She knew. Dain had written her, saying that Thorin had designated him heir before his passing. Dwalin wondered what he'd have to sacrifice to get Mahal to strike Dain Ironfoot dead. Dwalin had been there, and Thorin hadn't made him heir for the reasons Dain seemed to think he had. True enough, Dain had a claim to the throne and Dwalin could grudgingly admit that he'd be a good leader, but Dis was the one it should have passed to by rights.
Even dying, no one knew Dis, daughter of Thrain, like her older brother. She had the right to the throne of Erebor, but he'd known she wouldn't have wanted it. Dwalin would challenge any who said that Dis wasn't among the strongest of Durin's Line, but Erebor would have been the end of her. She'd have driven herself mad with grief and despair, being in the place where nearly everyone she loved had died, and Thorin wanted to spare her from that.
Whether Dain knew that and was being purposefully ignorant, or he was truly uninformed was a matter of opinion. Either way, the letter he sent had arrived two weeks before they had, courtesy of a Ranger, a young man out of Rivendell, along with the condolences of Lord Elrond and it seemed Dis had run out of tears to cry, despite the broken heart Dwalin could practically see.
They stayed in Dis' home, the ruling castle of Ered Luin. They grieved together, and Dwalin never mentioned the letter. He never mentioned marriage or love or Thorin's wish for them. Dwarves prided themselves on being able to provide the things that their intended wanted or needed, and Dwalin knew he couldn't give Dis either. What use was a husband when the children you'd willingly broken your heart in two for, entrusting a piece to each, were gone? Could a husband bring those children back, or the brother she loved more than the world itself?
Dwalin couldn't, and he wouldn't insult her by pretending.
A few months later, Gandalf arrived without warning in Ered Luin, coming to Dis' castle to speak with her, Balin and Dwalin. He told them that their Hobbit was hiding himself away in his house, hiding from his grief instead of facing it, and he asked if one of them could accompany him to the Shire to check on him. He said something about an auction and Bilbo's more noxious relatives, neither of which really surprised Dwalin. He seemed to recall their Burglar saying something about a woman named Lobelia whom he had the dubious honour of being related to, and how thrilled she would be if he never came back at all.
Dis' hackles were raised at the treatment of a friend of her brother, but while Dwalin hesitated leaving so soon, Balin volunteered. Dwalin was worried over Dis and wanted to be close by in case something happened. Two days after Gandalf's arrival, Balin left, hugging Dis tightly despite her claims of being fine, and quietly asking Dwalin to take care of her, and him.
"I haven't come through fire, forests, war and death to lose you now, brother. We're all we have left."
Dwalin promised, and Balin and Gandalf rode out of Ered Luin towards the Shire. As they left, Dis commented that someday, she'd like to meet this Bilbo Baggins. She wanted to know what a Hobbit thought of her sons and brother, and to get an idea of whether he was worthy of how highly her kin thought of him.
Without thinking, Dwalin replied that had they lived, Bilbo would have loved her brother until the stars fell from the sky, and he'd have been an uncle to her boys that Frerin would have been proud of. He said they could go see him one day, that Gilda would have liked him, and Dwalin choked on his words midsentence as Dis looked at him curiously. He looked at her in alarm, worried his words had hurt her.
But Dis just smiled slightly, a great weariness behind her eyes. She said she'd like to meet him, and that she'd hold Dwalin's to his promise of a trip to the Shire. She turned and walked away, telling Dwalin to wash up for dinner, and the warrior watched her go in utter amazement. Grief stricken or not, there was not a stronger dwarrow alive than Dis, daughter of Thrain. She'd survived too much to let words hurt her. Words cannot hurt stone, after all.
It took years but one autumn night, Dwalin and Dis rode into Hobbiton, up the winding slopes of Bagshot Row and dropped in on Bag End. The mark was still on the door, shining slightly in the darkness, and Dis traced it gently with her gloved finger before knocking firmly on the door.
The smells of food and the warmth of a fire poured out when the door was opened by a Hobbit Dwalin didn't recognize. He greeted them warmly, saying he knew Dwalin on sight from the many stories he'd heard from his uncle, and guessing who Dis was from the genealogies of Durin's Line he'd learned as a child.
He bowed, putting himself at their service, and said they were most welcome. He invited them in, taking their cloaks and hanging them on chairs by the fire place to dry. He said his name was Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's nephew.
"Well, cousin twice removed, really, but uncle is much easier. Uncle! We've got guests for dinner!"
Bilbo Baggins walked into the hallway, and dropped the dish towel he'd been drying his hands with when he saw them. He walked over and bowed low to Dis, placing himself forever at her service, and exchanged a gentle forehead bump with Dwalin, saying how good it was to see him again. He invited them to sit down at the dinner table and to eat with him and Frodo. While they ate, the two Hobbits managed to convince them to stay in Bag End for the next few weeks, so they could chat and catch up. It has to be said that neither Dis nor Dwalin objected overmuch. A week in, Bilbo had proven himself to Dis to be worth every honour her kin had bestowed upon him.
While they were in the Shire, a letter arrived from Erebor, from Balin. Dain had granted him permission to take a small party to retake Moria. Balin was optimistic, saying that the orcs had been largely cleared out of the Misty Mountains by the Battle of Five Armies. Dwalin replied to say that as soon as they were established, he and Dis would come and visit. He knew Balin would chuckle at there being a "he and Dis" at all.
The years passed and the world darkened. Dain, Bard, his son Bain and his grandson Brand, died. Balin, Ori and Oin were dead in Moria. Sauron returned, and their Hobbit's fancy ring turned out to be a good deal more important than any of them had realized.
Dis died in her sleep ten months before Sauron's defeat. She was 300.
When Dwalin, son of Fundin, died in battle before the gates of Ered Luin at 340, he was not married. He was the last of a great family. His brothers were dead. His friends, all save Bombur and Gloin, had gone on to wait with Mahal until the world's ending. The only children he'd ever raised were gone long before their time. The love of his long life was cut down not by battle, but by the slow march of time and a heart that had been too heavy for too long.
Dwalin, son of Fundin, died happy. He did not know how the war would end; he did not know that the two Hobbits he'd loved beyond all belief would go to the Undying West, or that Gloin's son would make the same journey with Thranduil's son, the best friend he'd ever known. He did not know, but he would not be there to see it. He would die of his wounds and would go to the Halls of his fathers, and be reunited with all those he loved most.
After a life of war and saying goodbye, he would at last find peace. He would never have to say goodbye again.
AN: I cried while writing it. I admit it.
Thank you for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed it!
Much love,
Oracle. (L)