Poor Dis. Relegated to a line in the appendices. I always thought she deserved a voice.
Blinded by tears, she managed to push open the heavy door to the terrace. She ran to the rail and stood facing the cold north wind, trying to breath. The wind whipped her hair, lashed her face and dried her tears. Dis stood for a long time staring hopelessly up the road that led to the east. She knew that it was the last time she would ever do so.
There was no reason now. No one who mattered to her would return down that road. Ever. She crushed the much abused parchment in her hand again. All but unreadable now, it confirmed her worst fears. Fili, Kili and Thorin were dead.
Once more the tears streamed down her face as she grieved for her loss. How much was one person supposed to bear? She cursed Mahal. Father, brothers, husband, countless friends and now her beloved sons. All gone. She howled her grief to the wind which tore her words from her lips and spread it across the land. Her heart would never break again; she had no one left to mourn.
…..
Mothers everywhere subconsciously heard her words of despair and pulled their children a little closer, held them a little tighter and gave them one extra kiss. For no one knows when that last piece of one's heart will be claimed.