Authors Note:

This little tale has been drifting around my head since I alluded to it in my other story of this fandom, Like Moth To Flame (Rated M).

This is a bit of a prequel obviously, but this story can be read of its own accord. There will be references to LMTF, and eventually there may be spoilers. (I will post warnings). Those who follow LMTF will (eventually) understand why I am presenting this tale now.

I ask you to be patient with me as an author, for both stories are coming to fruition at the same time, and take alot of time and care to craft. One thing I promise is a good story to read; I can't promise you when...

Of note; my Dis is blonde haired, like her son, Fili.

Yours in Middle Earth,

Angelwrath

Introduction:

Upon their escape from the clutches of a dragon; the dwarves of Erebor go into the world a lost people. Mad with grief, Thror tries to reclaim ancient dwarf land with disastrous results. Thorin joins with his father and the other exiles with legions of other dwarves to war with orks in Moria, leading to the death of his grandfather and brother, and the madness of his father. Consumed with this, Thorin wanders far and wide to provide however he can.

Dis, the only female heir of Durin, was only 10 when she was forced into exile…her journey through Middle Earth takes on another path, different from her male relatives. Learning to live in the world of the Men who inhabit middle earth, Dis grows up quickly, and finds out even more about danger, heartbreak, and life than she ever imagines…

Thorin/Dis/youngKili/youngFili, Dis/OC

It was the year 2770 of the third age, on a day that would go down in history. In the bright light of day, an ominous shadow approached and covered Dale and the entrance to Erebor. But it was not only a shadow; it was a living nightmare….The fire serpent turned his flaming breath to Dale, then to the mountain kingdom. Both locations would never be the same henceforth… The dragon burst into Erebor after laying waste to Dale, and waged a war with unsuspecting dwarves. The devastation of the day continued on into night as Smaug was ever tireless in his destruction. Survivors streamed from their former home, and huddled in the hills around Erebor. Among those survivors were the members of the royal family; they managed to escape to what was safe at the moment; a mountain outpost usually inhabited by sentries and ravens; The fort at Raven Hill.

It was by sheer luck that Dis found her family that night in the chaotic flight. From the top of the ramparts, she looked on in astonishment, unable to find the tears to cry anymore as the flames shot out of what once was her home. Fire was everywhere, fire and death. Flames rose from all over that stone city of Dale, lighting up the day, but eventually it turned into smoldering ruins, the grey pillars of smoke rising up into the night sky as the fires then raged from Erebor. They all huddled in the eyries, watching, unbelieving as the demolition around them burnt an indelible picture into everyone's mind. She clung, shivering, desperately, to the wide chest of her brother as his strong arm held her with the strength of iron. She looked up, despair eating away at her, into a face filled with shock, anger and grief as Thorin gazed out over the same scene.

"Thorin…what will we do now?" She said, looking up to the brother she adored and loved most dearly.

His gaze shifted onto her, and his sad eyes blinked. His gaze softened just a bit, just for her, his baby sister…for a second he seemed to falter and break. But then his eyes wandered over her face, and he soothed her wayward curls with a steady hand. Dis looked hopefully into the crystal blue eyes of her majestic brother.

"We do what we must, my dear Dis. Survive." He spoke, in a voice tinged with tired sadness.

By the light of day, the survivors amassed and left the shadow of what once was their mountain home on their long journey to do just that.

Dis was only ten years old when her life was turned upside down. What once was a life of comfort, living the life of a princess in one of the richest dwarf kingdoms ever to exist, was turned in a single harrowing day into the life of a fugitive. What Dis felt most was that she lost so much of her family that day; a day that haunted her sleep with nightmares of fire and destruction, of loss and pain for years to come.

What was plenty became scarce; full, warm belies shrunk and ached with the pangs of hunger. Her beautiful trinkets and wardrobes and toys and dolls were no longer hers, trodden waywardly by a hording serpent; Dis was forced to wear the clothing on her back until it turned to rags, the jewels hanging from her hair, neck, and ears hocked to provide food for her brethren. Dis, who had always been a delightful child, was no longer the coddled, hidden young dwarf princess. Now she was but a little girl forced out of her mountain sanctuary, the only thing she ever knew all her days. She entered into the greater world of middle earth for the first time a pauper and a wanderer. At first she was scared, but the steel and tenacity of her kind was strong in her blood. Her spirit would not let the adversity get the better of her. From early on, once the shock of change wore off, Dis swore to herself she would survive in this new life she was forced into. Survive and thrive, be it the last thing she would do.

For almost twenty long years, they wandered on the road, without a home with only subsistence to fill their bellies. The troves of dwarves stuck together at first but then separated into family groupings. She learned to rely on no one but herself, for her male kin were too consumed with darkness, anger and hate to simply accept the new life they were faced with. Thorin worked hard as a blacksmith, being the most resilient of the men, but he too was mentally encumbered by the fact he was reduced to a laborer. The injustice of it all ate into his craw. The echoes of their previous life as the rulers of an expansive kingdom laden with riches were a constant on their minds. The thoughts of a dragon in the halls that was once theirs possessed them, wore away at them daily.

Dwarves did not usually live outside of family circles. The tight knit society that Dis was once part of descended into a loose network of friends and family who simply did what had to be done to stay alive, went where they could find wages and shelter. Dis, it turned out, had the strongest nature of them all, resolute to do what had to be done. The youngest and fairest of the clan was a pragmatic survivalist. Be it the innocence or resilience of youth, or something more innate, she strived to live in whatever world she was thrust in.

But then, the royal family suffered another gut wrenching blow. First, her grandfather Thror left to find the ancient city of his ancestors, Khazad Dum. Some time later they learned he was killed, beheaded and his body defiled by the ork leader, Azog. Then her father Thrain, filled with ire and seeking retribution, took Thorin and Frerin and left to go to war with the Orks, to avenge Thror, leaving Dis in the company of relatives, in a new settlement in the Dunland.

Only her elder brother and father returned, with a battle barely won, one that was altogether too pricey. Many strong dwarves died on the field of Azanulbizar, including her beloved brother Frerin…there numbers were low, as were their spirts. Bitterness and disappointment returned with the weary warriors, and Thrain led them all to settlement in the Northern Blue Mountains. But her father grew more consumed about the idea of his lost riches in the lonely mountain, constantly ruminating on his loses, which led to his departure years later with Balin and Dwalin; they headed east.

Dis had enough.

All Dis felt was disillusioned by her male brethren, her own resilient spirit tired of the idea of war and loss so she decided to head out by herself. She left her family to set out on her own; and thusly she stayed, largely alone in the shanty villiages in the outskirts of large man-towns. But that was quite some time ago, now.

Dis had her pleasant personality, wit and perseverance to keep her surrounded by agreeable folk with a roof above her head. The years they passed, and Dis became more and more her own woman, the decadent years in the kingdom becoming a faint memory she could hardly discern from a dream. She heard through the intersession of dwarves that crossed her path that her brother Thorin constantly asked for her, and they gave her the messages to bid her return to their family hearth in the Blue Mountains. Dwelling on something that once was and possibly could never be again was a waste of good time, young Dis felt. As much as she loved Thorin, she refused to return, to be engulfed in such dismay. She would provide for herself, that was certain. And she would return in her own sweet time.

This year found her in a modest sized hamlet on the outskirts of the biggest town in Rohan. But these days were hard; she had spent the better part of a year trying to find steady work in this man town. She had plucked her beard to look more like the fair lassies around her, and had taken to doing any chore she could find in the houses of rich men, some who worked her as a slave, some she left hurriedly largely because she refused to part her legs for their lustings. This princess would keep her honor, even if it meant starving to death.

Dis was walking through the marketplace one day, on another odyssey from the head matron of her latest master, a primping and pig-like rich rogue that liked to pinch the buttocks of the girls who worked for him. But there were enough who would giggle at his grotesque ways that she was not always the target. She had nearly punched his pompousness square on the nose on too many occasions, so now she was bequeathed to being just a lowly messenger girl, getting a pittance for her travels to and from the market and stores. That was fine enough until the next opportunity came along; even a pittance still bought stale bread.

Work done for the day and her measly portion devoured, Dis walked around the market as if she had a purpose, though a purpose she had none. To wander through the crowds, and look at the people about were distractions from the burning in her belly.

A movement called her attention; a tall man in a long cloak was carrying a large satchel; one handle had fallen from his hand and the contents of it came crashing down on the cobble street. Dis looked around briefly. No one else seemed to notice or care. She spied a walking stick and heard his grumbling curses. He was a tall man, and would find bending difficult in this crowded street.

Dis sighed and approached him, wordlessly picking up the groceries. He looked at her with crossed confusion. She looked up at him with defiance, lips pursed.

"I am not stealing it." She insisted, holding out her hand. "I can put it back in there for you…" she explained. A heavy eyebrow above intense dark eyes rose up. He handed her the now empty satchel.

"I have heard dwarves are a strong and sturdy people. But now I see they are merciful, too." He said, with a low, rich voice that made her take notice.

"I simply saw the opportunity to help and I will do just that." Dis said, picking up the items slowly and returning it to the large bag. She stood up; the weight was heavy, but not too much for her, and she got the chance to look more discerningly at the man standing before her.

He was a tall man, no doubt, but malady had him bent over, shrunken, his shoulders hitched, his leg perturbed. He leaned heavily on a solid, worn walking stick. Yet, he was well dressed and tastefully barbered, with a full purse on his belt, next to the fancy hilt of a knife inside his coat. On further inspection, he had a fair, yet rugged face of tan skin, a dark, thick beard to match the thick, shoulder length hair on his head, and deep, dark, rich eyes. He was handsome, for a man, she mused.

The bag she now held would not be much of an issue for a man with the brawn she could sense he had hidden under his clothes, judging by his frame, but with a leg that did not allow easy movement, carriage of such a thing would be difficult for him to manage.

"Do you need some help with this, sir?" she said, almost hopefully. His eyes were intense…yet kind. He pursed his lips.

"I can hold it fine." He said. "Just slipped momentarily from my grasp."

"Of your strength I have no doubt. But balancing with this and walking with a stick does prove very tricky, indeed, no?" She said, holding on the bag tightly, and tilting her head to the side. Her golden locks fell over her shoulder. The man smirked.

"Aye. Yes it does." He said, his eyes flitting over her face and glancing down her body, very briefly. "It is not a strain to you? You are slender, and tall for your people, dwarf lady." He said, his brows knit. Dis smiled internally. Obviously, he knew something about dwarves, and was not uncomfortable with them. This was good.

"It is not a strain for a strong dwarf like me." She said, with a small smile as she continued to examine everything about the man. He was obviously a man of some standing. No doubt with a trove of servants at his beck and call. And probably a woman at his hearth.

"Is there a servant I should be calling to your aid?" she said, looking around. "A wife, perhaps?" she asked.

"No." The man looked at her with a shadow of darkness in his face. "I live alone."

Dis feared she had gone too far in her questioning. Her heart sank a bit; and for a moment she cursed her curiosity. Dis had been hoping this was an opportunity for a new position. She looked down.

"I am sorry, sir. A stranger should not be inquiring on such things." She said. She placed the bag down between them, and was in the mind to leave his presence as fast as possible.

But something held her there.

A pregnant silence engulfed them, within the din of the active market. She dared look up into his face again. He was not cross; he was studying her, curiosity fluttering over his serious features.

"I live alone by choice. A simple life." He said. Then he looked down at the ground, to where his bag had been placed. "But those are interesting questions." His eyes rose up to her. "Usually asked for reasons unspoken." He said, raising a brow. Dis swallowed hard, holding her breath.

"I…only inquire because…I am looking for honest work, sir. As a messenger, maid, or cook." She said, grasping her hands together.

"Are you now…" The man said, with a grunt.

"Yes, sir." She held out her hands, showing him callouses and shortened nails. "As you see, I am one willing to work hard for a good wage." She said, standing tall and still. He walked around her slowly, limping just a bit, eyeing her up and down. Even with bent over with his lameness, he still towered her by several hands. She met his gaze as he circled back before her.

"You do not know me. I could be a scoundrel." He said, with a small smirk on his face. Dis looked him in the eyes. Years on broken roads and highways had left her wary of all. Yet skills at discerning the difference between a stranger with a good heart and one with foul motives was a skill she had mastered. She was far from naïve, and a better judge of character than that.

"I must rely on my wit and instincts often, Sir. At first glance, you seemed a good man to me. And after talking with you a bit, I am of the same opinion."

"Is that your deduction or your hope?" The man asked, a bemused expression on his face. Even his sharp eyes smiled with that. Nowhere in this man before her did she sense anything to worry her soul. She took the chance…

"The former, Sir. But I can only hope a good man such as you would be a fair and gracious employer, Sir." She said, tilting her head to the side. "Which is why I thought to inquire." The man pursed his lips with a smirk.

"You assume much." He said, with a gentle guffaw.

"I am seldom wrong about such things." She said, a bit smugly. He looked at her with caution.

"I have long since stopped relying on instinct." He said, with a serious tone. "It can lead you down dark paths."

"Instinct has helped me survive. Sir." She said. He looked at her curiously, with a learned expression.

"From whence did you harken, young dwarf?" He asked, non-chalantly.

Dis felt her heart tighten; she usually lied to anyone who asked her about this, but, with this man, she thought against it.

"From Erebor. And I am not that young, sir. I have spent over 80 summers on middle earth." She said, a little proud. Chances are, she was older than this gent…Yet she sensed a bit of a flutter of warning entering her chest at the mention of her homeland. The man leaned back, his head nodding, his lips pursing as he rubbed his beard.

"Still, you have many years before you, dwarf. Your people live almost thrice that." He remarked. Dis was surprised at this man's knowledge of dwarves. "In my eyes, you are young."

"Aye, that is true." She managed to say. He nodded.

"So... You are one of the exiles of Erebor. Your kingdom overtaken by a fire drake." He recounted. "You have had some fairly awful things happen in your 'young life'." He continued. "That alone can age a soul."

"Aye. That it has." She said, pursing her lips tight. She looked away from him, feeling a bit exposed.

"A good many of your people went then to fight the orks on the hills of Moria recently…and that did not work out very well." he said. Dis looked back up at him and blinked. This man was well informed, truly.

"True, sir. But…how do you know this? I mean, the concerns of dwarves is not common knowledge or even of interest in the world of man." She said, shaking her head. He nodded and the corner of his mouth hiked up in that smirk.

"It is in the worlds I preside in." he said, guffawing quietly. He looked away a bit. Dis shook her head, confused.

"What world is that?" she asked. The man glanced aback at her with a closed mouthed, serious expression. Dis became intensely curious, but it was quite evident he would not assuage her curiosity that far.

"I am called Gundal by some, Dorian by others. Not too much happens near or far that I do not catch wind of." He said, giving her at least some tidbit of information.

Gundal held out his hand and Dis took it, and did her best semblance of the womanly curtsy. The man lowered his head in reverence and that small smile crossed his face again. His hand was manly, rough, worn and warm, and she gave a little gasp. Never had any of her employers lowered themselves to greet her like this. Dis looked at him with a glint in her eye.

Gundal Dorian. That name echoed through her brain and lodged itself deep. Immediately, she felt comfort in his presence. Dis blinked a bit, surprised at that fact.

"It is my pleasure to meet you sir. My name is Dis." She said, bowing her head. "At your service."

"That is precisely what we will talk on now. How do I know you can be trusted in my house, Miss Dis?" Gundal said, as if challenging her. Playfully, though.

"Trust must be earned, sir." She said. "But I will let you know that which I live by: A steady wage earned is worth more than winnings which must be periodically stolen." She said. The tall man crossed his hands before his tall body to lean on his sturdy walking stick, a pensive expression on his face. Dis felt that his eyes could look right through her…

"You speak with the eloquence of one used to more than domestic duties." He said, a dark brow raised. Dis swallowed hard. "Am I right?" he said, his voice low.

"It matters not what I was before in Erebor. I do what I must now to earn a living." She looked down. "But, I must admit, I am a particularly good cook." She said, looking back up to his face with a small smile.

She did not know why she said it; but it could have been the choices of vegetables and mushrooms and meats in his basket that made her belly squirm with hunger. She had been one who enjoyed cooking; and her brother loved her dishes so.

"Hmm. I happen to enjoy a good meal." He admitted. "But I do not know what is considered good cooking for dwarves."

"I have had the same accolades for my cooking from man and dwarf alike." She said, pursing her lips and nodding.

"Very well. Come along, now if you like, so we can talk more about this potential work I may have you do. Over a meal I would pay you to prepare for me this day." He said, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

"But of course; that is reasonable…" Dis agreed.

"But my house is some distance from town. We have to go there on horseback." He said, observing her closely. She shuddered a bit. She did not like horses…and leaving town made her worry.

"That is fine. All I ask… is time to tell my family, so they know where I go." Dis said, her eyes wandering away; she did not want to leave herself so vulnerable.

"Of course." Gundal said, looking down at her with eyebrows drawn together.

Dis shifted around uncomfortably. Riding out of town with a stranger; it could mean trouble, even though her instincts told her otherwise, about this one...

"It is respectable work I look for…" she said, her voice low, as she looked hard into his eyes. Gundal nodded, and with a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, he looked into her eyes with an intensity that gripped her. He bent over to speak with her in a lowered tone.

"If it was a whore I was seeking, I know where to go in this town to spend my money." Gundal said bluntly. Dis blinked in shock, surprised at his straightforwardness. He straightened himself back up. "You need not worry about your safety, my dear dwarf lady. I will not let anyone harm you. Least of all, myself." he said, with such sincerity, that Dis felt a bit sorry for thinking badly of him. She looked at him and bit her lip.

"I…I felt that the case…but…a woman who respects herself cannot take too much care." She said.

"Indeed." Gundal said. "Well…come this way. If you are still interested…"

As he turned around slowly, Dis spied the fastener for his cloak; it was in the shape of a star with six points… and as she followed him, she saw that it held together a long hooded cloak of darkest green. Something about those things made her wonder. Dis gasped. How could she have been so blind?

This man, who she felt she had questioned needlessly now, bore the marks of the Dunedain; a Ranger of the North, a Watcher. They were usually alone, and secretive, wandering into the civil world only for necessity and to dole out justice and protection as was their purpose on middle earth now. So…that was why he knew of the fighting in Moria and all the other details of the dwarves of Erebor. Watchers saw everything, knew everything. She gulped. She had assumed much.

With the slight sprinkling of silver intermingling with his ebony hair, Dis surmised that Gundal must be much older than she first suspected. The blood of the Numenorians run through their veins so they had lifespans tree times greater than the men of Rohan. But this was farther south than she had ever heard that they frequented. After gawking for a moment, Dis picked up the bag and followed him through the market, head held high.

Gundal walked painfully slowly, one leg, twisted and bent. His shoulders sloped awkwardly and it seemed to throw his balance off. She had never seen or heard of a Watcher being injured. Maybe that was why he was here, closer than they normally would be to town…maybe he could not fend for himself in the wild anymore. But why was he so lame? Dis pursed her lips.

Dis had become familiar with the machinations of the dwarf healers, learning all she could whenever she could, particularly from her kinsman, Oin. He was only too happy to pass on the responsibilities of midwife to her when she was quite young, when she was barely able. She gazed on Gundal with the eyes of a healer now. Surely he could be helped, by a surgeon's rough hand, or the intersession of a healer. All else about this man seemed strong and sturdy, and he would probably heal well. Dis silently wondered if some of the dwarf remedies and maneuvers would work for him. She should try some of them out on him, one day, if he would let her.

Dis guffawed…just a few moments around Gundal, and already she was making plans. Foolish girl, she chided herself. She had yet to see his home, his hearth and his land. But what she did see of him, already she was partial to. At one point Gundal stopped and turned to her.

"You need not linger aft, dwarf lady." He said. "You are too proud for such a placement." Dis walked up beside him, her brow scrunched together.

"What do you mean, sir?" She asked. His eyes softened.

"You walk with your head aloft, and carry yourself with dignity." Dis gasped and lowered her head, curling her shoulders. She would do anything, just anything to get this job, with Gundal, a man who, at least at first glance, was as kind as this. Her old employer could go to hell.

"I mean no disrespect, sir." Dis said, lowering her eyes.

She cursed herself. She had to remember to hold her head down, lower her eyes, as was expected by these masters. It was not easy, or natural, but, she had to do it all the same. She glanced back up to the man's eyes, which seemed cross.

"What are you doing?" Gundal asked. "I did not ask you to bend your head like a wretch." Dis straightened back up and looked at him with confusion. Dis was at her wit's end…

"I thought you would prefer…" she started, and then huffed. "I just do not want to offend you." He pursed his lips and put both hands on his stick.

"No. You offend me most when you try not to, it seems." Gundal said, and then he turned to her. "Miss Dis. Please do not alter who you are around me. Or anyone." He said, an almost knowing look in his eye. Dis nodded, straightening up. If Gundal Dorian wanted her to be herself, that she could be. But he may not like it.

"Very well. May I offer a suggestion, sir?" She said, boldness beaming. She might as well start out right with this man, her potential new employer. Gundal's head tilted a bit to the side, and his brows rose with a bit of bemused surprise.

"I hold true to my word, and would have you test me so soon. Go on." He said.

"You are quite unsteady on your feet, sir. If you hold my shoulder, I could steady you, and we could walk faster, with less discomfort. Sir." She suggested, offering her shoulder. His lips pursed.

"I don't wish to lean on you, for transfer my pain will, to your bones." He harumphed.

"I would not suggest it lest I felt I could handle it, sir. As you said, dwarves are a strong and sturdy people." She said. "I insist." He smirked and put his hand on her shoulder. A warm, strong hand.

"Yes, you are strong, Miss Dis. And resolute, it seems." He said, in his low voice as they started walking along together. Dis smiled and looked down, feeling a lightness in her chest. She was quickly growing fond of the sound of his voice…and immediately enjoyed the sound of her name on his tongue.

"Yes, that I am, sir." She admitted. "That I am."

Dis could not help to feel that this was a lucky day for her, indeed.