Notes: I didn't plan this and I made myself sad

Tilda wasn't quite as unused to being called a princess as Sigrid, but she knew that her sister was three times the political force she was. So when they all made ready for visiting the Halls of Erebor for something or other that was supposed to strengthen their relations, though they already were brilliant what with her Da slaying the dragon and such (she didn't like to think of the rest) she couldn't help but flutter around with nerves.

It wasn't special, it wasn't unusual, they'd been there, they'd talked to the dwarves, they'd celebrated merry feasts that ended with her falling asleep on the table (Bain still teased her), but still.

Tilda knew she was growing up and she wanted to take at least the slightest bit of responsibility on her shoulders like Da and Sigrid, because she knew how hard they had worked while bringing Bain and her up, or at least she thought she knew. Sigrid had been younger than Tilda was now when their Ma had died and Sigrid had been in charge of taking care of her baby sister, which was really incredible because Tilda didn't feel like she could take care of a baby any time soon. Thinking that taking some of the responsibilities from her sister's shoulders would be a good idea, Tilda had decided to learn how she did it.

So when they arrived she made sure to observe what her big sister was doing all the time. How she greeted one dwarf and then the other with respect and a smile, how she talked diplomatically but still very firmly and the dwarves listened, how she laughed at something or other… Tilda frowned. That last bit wasn't exactly right.

Sigrid had never been very quick to laugh, much like Da, always too busy and practical for much distraction, but today there was something different about her sister. After a few minutes of observing, she noted the slight downturn of Sigrid's shoulders and the tiny crease between her eyebrows, how she always seemed to need a moment more to summon a smile. Sigrid looked tired and…and sad. Tilda wasn't sure if anyone else noticed, though, the wine making everyone vivid and instruments being pulled out.

When the music and dancing was in full swing, she saw her sister quietly leaving through a side door Tilda hadn't even noticed. Worry and a not so small bit of curiosity had her warring with the part of her that told her she was just imagining things for a split second, then she got up as unnoticeable as possible.

When she opened the door and slipped into the corridor lighted with the glass baubles the dwarves used for decorative lights, she saw Sigrid's skirts swishing just around a corner. Her instincts as the youngest child who snuck up to the older ones on regular basis taking over, Tilda followed as quickly as she could without making noise.

After just a short while she found herself panting. Wherever Sigrid was going, she obviously didn't want anyone to notice she was gone for long, which only spurred Tilda's imagination into summoning the wildest ideas.

After quite a few corners and stairs, all of them leading downwards, Tilda nearly ran into Sigrid's back when she rounded the corner, not expecting her to have stopped. Her usually perceptive sister didn't seem to notice however, too busy staring at a giant double-winged door with runes and ornaments carved into them. From her vantage point Tilda could just make out the stern face of a warrior etched into the stone before glancing back to Sigrid. She was showing signs of feeling nervous, wringing her hands and looking up to the doors and down on her feet in a way Tilda had only ever seen her react to one of the rare times Da's scolding was directed towards her. Only this was worse, with Sigrid also breathing rather noisily, Tilda thought. Her sister seemed to think so too, because she drew in a sharp breath and squared shoulders like she always did when there was a task to tackle and then opened one half of the door with a mighty push.

Waiting for a few seconds after Sigrid had gone into the mysterious room, Tilda slowly stood in front of the closed part of the door and peeked in. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust, as it was slightly lighter in there, with light from the outside streaming in from a high window like a golden waterfall and torches flickering over stone statues sat upon large cubes.

She found Sigrid's form kneeling in front of one nearly in the middle, just below the light stream. Her sister gentle hand reached out and placed a small sprig of lavender and other summer flowers on the cube's mantle.

"I brought you flowers," she said softly, looking up at the statue sitting on the cube, "You said you liked lavender because it kept the bugs at bay." A strangled laugh that sounded like a sob came from her and Tilda's stomach clenched with the realisation of the room's purpose. This was a tomb.

"You also said that flowers are the most precious thing you could ever have given me, because they rarely grow in the mountains, and so your kin holds them in high regard when- when it comes to courting presents." Tilda's eyes widened, her mind racing with the implications of what she heard. She had never known Sigrid had been courted at some point, much less by a dwarf! When could this have happened?

Another strangled sound ripped from her sister's throat. "But it was too cold for flowers already so I suggested compromising on thistles. You told me I was stupid. Then you kissed me." Laugh after laugh wrecked through Sigrid, slowly turning to full sobs.

Her entire body trembling with the force of emotions too great for Tilda too fully comprehend, Sigrid reached out a hand and hit a fist against the stone. "You idiot! You complete and utter-" She hit again. "You just had to go and fight-" Her head sagged against where her hand had hit.

Tilda wasn't sure she could breathe anymore. Seeing her sister, her big sister who always knew what to do when there was a scraped knee or when Bain wouldn't stop being a tease shaking like that was something Tilda couldn't have imagined in her worst nightmare.

"You had to go," Sigrid continued, much quietly, "Of course you had to. To protect your brother, because that's what we do, isn't it? Protecting them, at all costs. I just wish it hadn't cost so much. I wish you would've come back, Fíli, even- even alone." Her hands covered her face helplessly. "I'm selfish, I know, but I just- I miss you more than I can say." Her voice broke off with another sob, making her sister behind her wince.

Fíli, she knew that name. Tilda would never forget how the company of dwarves and a hobbit had come out of their toilet, how Kíli had told her stories and made her laugh despite the fact that he was badly hurt and how she had cried when she found out her new friend had died, valiantly in battle, but died nonetheless. She had never known that his older brother and Sigrid had been so connected, so in love even, that it made her sister lose all her strength. Her chest clenched with sadness and she breathed out sharply with her eyes burning.

At the sound, Sigrid whirled around.

"Tilda! What are you doing here?"

"I, I followed you." At the quickly darkening look on Sigrid's face, she hastened to explain, "I was worried."

"You- You shouldn't have come." Sigrid quickly wiped away the tears on her cheeks without looking at her sister.

"But you shouldn't be alone." Tilda whispered, afraid she might start to cry herself.

"No, I shouldn't," Sigrid said with a voice completely foreign to Tilda, her usually bright blue eyes dimly looking at the stone face before her.

This was it, Tilda realised. This was the same weight that her father had carried for so long it was a part of him, now on her sister's young shoulders. She couldn't take that weight from her. She couldn't make anything easier. But she could offer her shoulders to share. So she sat down beside her sister as close as possible, taking her weight as she slightly sagged towards her after a moment's hesitation and listened while her sister, her brave, strong Sigrid, cried for an equally brave and strong man gone.

Notes: In LOTR, the grave shown in Moria is actually very simple, but I thought that the dwarves wouldn't make stone graves a simple affair. Their craftsmanship would be a way to honour the dead and remember them.

Also the timeline for this one would be not even a few years after BoFA, with Tilda only just starting to grow up. Sigrid would have been so busy with fighting for her people's survival and building up a city at her father's side that she barely ever let herself think of the past, no to mention grieve. Just burying herself in work and responsibilities, much like her father… Ok, ok, I'm stopping, I'm just making myself sadder and sadder