Ori lifted the chain mail in his hand, and ran his fingers over the shield. He blew off the dust carefully, as if the breath would wipe away the memory. "What's THAT, Daddy!" laughed a tiny dwarf, smiling as he climbed into the graying dwarf's lap. "Is that from your adventure?" His eyes grew big and round. "When you saw Smaug? Tell me that story again, please!"
Ori turned to the tiny dwarf. "No, Bilbo." he sighed. "I am going to tell you a different story. It has your namesake in it, the first Bilbo." Little Bilbo's eyes were wide. "You mean... the Hobbit? I've never seen a Hobbit before." Ori smiled, eyes wrinkling.
"You will someday, I promise."
"Alright." began Ori. "Here it goes. It was the eve of the battle. Thorin stood over us as we fitted ourselves with armor. See, like this" he held up the chain mail. "I remember it clearly. Balin wore a red a grey leather chest plate. Kili and Fili were less coated. A shame... But anyway, he were getting ready, feeling Thorin's eyes on our back. And I was scared. Dead scared. You see, Bilbo, I thought I was going to die."
"To DIE?" gasped the small dwarf. "But Bilbo would protect you, wouldn't he? With his big muscles and his smartness."
Ori only chuckled softly. "He was only a little hobbit, you must remember. And he was as scared as all of us. He had never seen war. Not even death. But now he was faced with it. And he could not escape. He waited on the brink of a wave, soon to come crashing down." Ori felt tears. "As were we all."
"Daddy, are you crying?" whispered Bilbo, in awe. "I thought it was a happy ending." Then, Ori, eyes deep and sad, turned to Bilbo.
"Are there any happy endings?"
Bilbo was silent. Ori eased himself from his chair, setting his son on the ground. "Wait here, Bilbo." he said. "Daddy needs to go do something."
Bilbo only watched. Then, Ori, eyes soft, picked up the shield and chain mail and left the house. Then he walked. Deep into the night, until he was before a tree. A white, pale, twisted tree. And then, taking the shovel that was leaned against it, he began to dig. Dig, dig, dig. Until there was a hole, and then he took his armor and threw it in. And as he did a great weight lifted from his chest and tears streamed freely from his eyes. And he heard the pitter patter of tiny feet. And Bilbo was behind him, his tiny dwarf eyes gleaming. "Can I help bury?" Ori nodded and watched his son's tiny hands cover his armor with dirt, unaware of the sadness it had brung.