A/N This ran away from me a little but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, which is rare for me. I hope you enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I still don't own The Hobbit. Probably for the best really...
Dis liked to believe that she was a good mother.
Not that she ever needed to think otherwise; she'd witnessed her boys grow from mischievous children to fine young men whilst harbouring a great deal of pride. Over the years she'd aimed to provide a softer alternative to Thorin's rather harsh disciplinary techniques and that had suited her perfectly. She may have had an infamous reputation for being unyieldingly stubborn but her children had rarely glimpsed this side of her. After all, having Thorin as their adoptive father was sure to be stressful enough for them. Dis could only imagine how being exposed to two doses of typical Durin attitudes would have traumatised her boys.
It was odd how comfortably she'd settled into the role of a mother. The heart that had been hardened and well-guarded after enduring many a battle had easily melted upon hearing the first cries of her eldest son. Such love had refused to yield. Instead it had simply strengthened after the arrival of Kili and watching her two boys bond until they were practically inseparable had only ever made her heart swell with pride.
She would devote her time to making sure her children were happy and if she was to be accused of spoiling them then so be it. She would be there to offer a tale before they settled into sleep, she would invite them into the comfort of her arms every time they shed tears and she had arranged the forging of their very first weapons with their uncle. She fondly remembered the joy on Kili's face as he handled the beautifully crafted bow and Fili's childish warhoops as he swung his twin blades and the air and accidently broke several vases.
That was all she'd ever needed in the end. The assurance that they were safe and happy. Thorin may have droned on and on about their potential as fierce warriors and future kings but Dis had only ever aimed to provide an escape from such daunting prospects. She knew full well how crippling such high expectations could be to the young. She had harboured such responsibilities in her own youth and had been forced to watch as they eventually devoured her elder brother at a time when, by all rights, he should have been playing soldiers and climbing trees. Dis knew that her brother meant well in his methods of raising his nephews but she could not allow history to repeat itself so completely. Her sons brought too much light into her life for that.
Somewhere down the line it became clear that her efforts were in vain. Thorin had always been far too captivating for her to have a chance at outdoing him when it came to influencing her boys. She had not missed the spark in her sons' eyes as they listened to him recount the tales of dragons and orcs and devastating battles. She had not been able to ignore their growing skills in weaponry nor their eagerness to join their uncle every time he ventured away from home.
A small part of her had ached to simply keep her sons close by her side at all times, to spare them from the dangers of the outside world that seemed to inevitably lurk in their future. However she had dismissed such impulses. As much as she loved her sons, she refused to resort to mollycoddling them. Even if - as time passed her by and her sons grew older before her eyes – she occasionally wished that that was exactly what she had chosen to do.
Rumours of her brother's insane quest started out exactly like that. Rumours. Easily dismissed as no cause for concern. Then they'd developed and spread and soon dwarves had started to volunteer themselves to be a part of such a quest and everything suddenly started to become too real for Dis' taste. It was only when Fili approached to inform her that their uncle had requested their company that Dis finally accepted that yes, her brother was capable of being that foolish.
She had tried to avoid arguments with Thorin in recent years but every encounter with him after that seemed to tear away all of her restraint. She lost track of how many times she'd had to drill the idiocy of such a suicidal quest into his skull, let alone the sheer nerve required to invite her sons along with him. Erebor had been declared a lost cause by many. Reclaiming it seemed to be an impossibility, especially when Smaug continued to linger there. Besides, the life that had been built in the Blue Mountains was hardly perfect but it was comfortable enough. Their situation was not desperate enough to warrant needlessly setting out on a journey where every single odd seemed to be stacked against them.
Dis made sure to tell Thorin all of this, often until she was blue in the face. Shouting and the occasional unrepeatable insult may also have made appearances in such quarrels. Not that her protests ever had any effect. Thorin had the same stubborn streak as she after all.
What made matters worse was the fact that her sons desperately wanted to go. Every time they pleaded their case to her she felt a heaviness grow in her heart that she had hoped was dispelled long ago. She'd always felt obliged to provide her sons with whatever they wanted – within reason – but this request would seem like a huge betrayal on her part if it was granted.
In the end, she had granted it though. She could not bring herself to deny her boys such an adventure when it was exactly what they had been dreaming of ever since she could balance them both in her arms. So she had helped them pack away everything they could possibly need and had watched them set off with a barely suppressed lump in her throat.
Thorin had persuaded her in the end as well but that did not stop her from doubting him. For all his assurances and promises regarding her sons' safety she still found it difficult to shake off the creeping sense of dread in her heart and the sensations of loss that had long been buried in her mind were newly resurrected. Images of the fates of her grandfather and father and husband haunted her while she slept. It was like a trickster was set on torturing her mind while never laying a single finger on her body and she wished for nothing more than it's disappearance.
As the months passed and the excitement of her brother's quest finally died down in Ered Luin she eventually learned to conceal her fear. The news they received from afar was generally better than she'd expected and for that she was extremely grateful. There was loneliness, certainly, and an overwhelming need to see the bright smiles on her sons' faces once more but she learned a rather important skill as time went on. She learned to be patient.
One thing that did not relent however was the pounding of her heart every time there was a knock on the door. That persisted with abandon and Dis started to suspect that she had an appointment with a future visitor that she had no desire of keeping.
She had never been so desperate to be proven wrong, nor more heartbroken to be proven right.
When she opened the door one particular morning to reveal Balin – wearier than she could ever remember him being and with a kind sadness in his eyes that was almost paralysing – she instantly slammed it back in his face. It seemed to take her hours to compose herself, so great was her panic. Her mind raced, her heart pounded, her lip trembled under the terror of whatever news awaited her. She would happily have remained in her home forevermore, blissfully ignorant of whatever Balin intended to say if it meant she never had to face his pity.
She knew better than to get her hopes up. The fact that it was the wizened old dwarf that had approached her rather than her brother had erased any hopes she may have previously possessed.
She also knew that like with any great wound, perhaps it was better to get it over with than to draw out the pain.
And so she learned that both her brother and her sons were lost to her and realised that perhaps she was not a good mother after all. That pained her most, the knowledge that her instincts should have been great enough to prevent this from happening. She should never have let her sons leave the mountains. As always though, she'd been swayed by the need to make them happy. Her many efforts to spare them from the brutality of war had eventually killed them.
She could forgive herself many things, but never that.
So she screamed and she wept and she cursed her brother until her throat was raw and his loss fully sank in along with those of her sons. Her weakened heart withered and frayed until she began to question its continued existence and her reason for living had to be scrutinised relentlessly just to prove that she still had one. Assuming she did, she often hoped that it would hurry up and make itself evident.
However, as all wounds did with time, she began to heal. She finally allowed herself to travel to Erebor in order to visit her kin for a final time and bid them a proper farewell. And somehow she managed to carry on.
Dis missed her brother and sons dearly and she was all too aware that a part of her had died along with them, but she continued to wander onwards even after everything that had brought her life meaning had been distinguished. Deep down, she knew the reason for this and for once it wasn't her inherent stubborn nature.
It was because she was still a mother and her sons would have urged her to carry on.
And they'd always managed to get what they wanted in the end.