Hey all, LittleK3 here. I've had this story on my computer for a while, so I decide that now was as good a time as any to post it. Updates may be slightly regular at first, but they will most likely be slow after that. Second Semester of college is just about over, but I've got work and an internship I'll be at this summer, which is super exciting and also time consuming so just a heads up there. I'm also planning on putting up a Star Wars fic and finishing up another old one while this is going on, so things will most likely be inconsistent but if all goes well, they will be finished.
Anyway, that's all you probably care enough about to know about my life, so I'm gonna let you all go here. Enjoy!
The return from battle was always the worst. To come back to homes and family felt great, yes, but sometimes making sense of everything you had seen and done was hard to reconcile with those who did not share the experience. Thorin lead his fellow warriors across the mountains from their failed battle, heart heavy from the loss of his kin and the thought of all the families he would have to visit and offer condolences to over their lost loved ones. He did not relish the job at all. Their procession was slow and silent, each man grieving in his own way and preparing themselves for the barrage of questions and crowds that would await them when they arrived.
Thorin had expected the village to be quiet, yes; they were returning near dawn, but this was not the quiet of a town asleep and soon to wake. The smell of death lingered in the air, and every dwarf could feel the tension and saw traces of battle as they went along. Something was wrong. This was not supposed to happen. Urgency gave them the energy to speed up and they quickly arrived at the gates, hardly believing their eyes.
Bodies littered the roads, remnants of houses littered the ground as did other debris. Battle had come here recently. "Split up! Go in groups to your homes and be prepared for anything. We will regroup in an hour in the center square!" Thorin ordered, watching as his soldiers ran off in packs towards their homes and families, each hoping to find some source of joy. The king went with Dwalin and Balin to his own home, praying that all would be well but afraid to hope. The destruction was total and everywhere...A shuffling in the woods to the right drew their attention, and they fell into a well practiced battle stance, ready for attack. Out of the foliage came a young dwarf, one too young to join his father in the war but skilled enough to defend the land if it was attacked.
"Lord Thorin..." he breathed, falling to a knee reverently before the Durin could stop him. "Speak. What happened here?" The king asked, knowing he had to put his own fears and worries in the back of his mind because his people came first. Dis and his nephew's would be fine...they'd be fine...
"Orcs, sire," the youth explained, rising and signaling for others to join him, "they attacked in night. Too large to be a scouting party, it was a planned and well orchestrated attack. We fought hard, but the casualties were many. We managed to get most of the women and children into the safety of the woods, but lost more we saved." The boy dropped his eyes, a few of his friends standing on either side of him as others went into the woods and brought back the survivors. He was avoiding something, and Thorin knew it.
"Lady Dis and her sons...What of their fate?" Thorin asked, fists clenched as he tried to hide the fear and worry in his voice. He had to be strong. For his people...He had to be.
"They were separated early on...she fought bravely but...none lived through the attack, my lord. I'm sorry."
The dwarf king felt all his breath leave him and he struggled to stay upright. No...no this could not be true...After a few moments of silence, he regained his composure and voice, once again giving out orders. "Take the survivors and attempt to reunite them with their families. We must prepare for a second attack and begin preparations to rebuild." His people scattered, and soon enough, he was with only his two closest friends, both of whom were silent at the news. "Leave me. I will meet you at the markets soon enough." The two brothers hesitated, but eventually nodded, giving their friend comforting touches and wandering off to join the others.
The orcs had taken all that was precious to him and destroyed it, and Thorin felt himself shattering inside. His family...his entire family...dead. Gone...He was now the sole survivor of the Line of Durin, King without a Mountain...king without a family...