Hey everyone, this is a fic I wrote not so long ago as contribution to the fanfiction project for William Kircher. I'll be back to writing about my favourite Durins soon, but now I'd be glad if you took a minute or two for Dori and Ori.
Takes place after the funeral and is not part of my "Choices"-universe.
Since Dean unfortunately had to cancel his visit to HobbitCon, your reviews would definitely cheer me up. ;)
What we will remember
A great feast indeed. Nothing less was expected after a burial ceremony, and the funeral of a king after a battle that would go down in history called for a feast more splendid than any other ever held in Erebor. It was a tradition and as such it was expected of the dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield's company to mingle with the crowd.
Tradition.
Dori didn't know much about the customs of royal families. But he did know that he didn't like this tradition one bit. He didn't feel much like feasting, not after everything that had happened. He listened to the music that echoed from the stony walls, but while he had longed for music ever since he had left Bag End, he now couldn't enjoy it. He ate a meal that would have made his mouth water during their journey just by thinking of it, but now he couldn't care less. It didn't taste of anything, he thought, his appetite long gone ever since –
Well, ever since he had kneeled at his king's side, one hand on Ori's shoulder, feeling him shake with silent sobs and knowing that he would yet have to tell his little brother what Balin had whispered to him before.
The lads are dead, Mahal bless them. Thorin must have decided to follow them into Mandos' halls.
He had seen the tears in his friend's eyes, and he hadn't then had the heart to tell Ori what he knew.
But of course many hours had passed ever since, word had spread and tears had fallen from his brother's eyes, and not for the first time Dori had wished he had never taken him on this journey in the first place. He had always known that it would be dangerous, but reality had by far surpassed his expectations and climaxed in a battle that had almost taken his brothers from him here at the mountainside, so far from home.
Erebor was home now, though. It was strange how through the whole journey he had referred to the mountain as this, as home.
Not long until we're home, little brother.
It didn't feel much like home as he sat in the grand hall, watching Bofur picking miserably at his food, all mischievous grin vanished from his face, no joyous laughter that had so often lifted their spirits during their journey. Not far from him Glóin was stroking the metallic frame of his locket which beheld the pictures of his wife and son, while Óin wasn't even pretending to listen to the conversation between two elderly dwarves of Dáin's army and Balin. Dwalin was nowhere to be seen, and Dori knew that, if all this was hard for him, to Dwalin it had to feel like a mountain crashing down on him.
Dori turned on his chair, wincing as a sharp pain in his side reminded him of how very close a call it had been on the battlefield. If Nori hadn't jumped to his aid… but Dori forbid himself to think further. Two cracked ribs and a massive bruise, he could live with that.
Others had not been so lucky, and the hours after the battle were a memory that was now engraved in his mind forever, no matter how much he tried to shut out the echoes of screams and cries and fading calls for help. A nightmare of broken dreams and wasted lives, and he had sent his brothers straight into it. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, trying in vain to tell himself that they had gone willingly.
He never should have brought them along in the first place.
Not his little Ori, his naïve, innocent baby brother who, before their journey, had rather grasped a pencil than a warhammer.
He startled when someone touched his shoulder.
"Are you alright?"
Nori was standing before him with two tankards of ale in his hands, eyeing him worriedly, and Dori narrowed him eyes.
"Where is Ori?"
"How would I know?"
"He went after you."
Nori shook his head as he sat down next to his brother and handed him his drink.
"Well, he didn't. He wouldn't have had a hard time catching up, now, would he?" he added, pointing at his right leg. He was limping badly after an orc's mace had struck him just above the knee. Mahal must have been watching over him, for Dori had been sure, then, that his brother would lose his leg right there and then. Miraculously, the mace had only broken skin and flesh but no bones, and a strip from Nori's tunic had served as a makeshift bandage.
Another close call.
Dori took a sip of his ale. It wasn't bad, this brew made by the men of Lake-town, though of course not nearly as good as that of dwarves. But it would take some time to make the distilleries work again. And not just these, but in fact everything would have to be fixed, from blocked corridors to broken stairs. There was much to be done in the future.
If only everything could be fixed as easily.
"I'll look for him," he said, squared his shoulders and got to his feet. "He shouldn't be alone."
"Shall I –"
"No, stay here. You shouldn't be walking around so much."
Nori grinned wryly and glanced over at where Bofur was sitting.
"Mind if I give that ale of yours to someone who will appreciate it more?"
Dori shook his head and forced himself to a weak smile. It was good so see at least one of his brothers trying to be cheerful, although he didn't fail to notice that the grin never reached Nori's eyes.
Nori picked up the two tankards and limped over to the other table, and Dori headed for the door. He hadn't told his brother, but he had a very clear idea of where Ori might have gone. He knew him better than anyone, and while he was well aware of the fact that the other dwarves sometimes made fun of his fussing over his baby brother, he alone knew how strong the bond between them really was. They all had their brothers, of course, and brothers were always close, though some more so than others.
I belong with my brother.
He screwed his eyes shut for a moment. How needless were all those long speeches and complicated words, when five simple words were enough to focus on what really mattered. Family. Fíli had known this, and he would have been a great king someday, which was a thought that made Dori's eyes burn as he walked down the corridors.
He didn't have to search long. The corridor was illuminated by the soft light of flickering torches hung up on the walls, and there, crouched before a beautifully decorated stone door, was Ori. Dori's heart clenched at the sight of him. It wasn't long since he had last stood there, watching as three tombs were closed while Dáin said words that didn't quite reach Dori's ears. His gaze had been set on the Arkenstone, the mighty jewel irradiating light unlike any other he'd known, a light that filled the crypt and illuminated the engraved runes on the three tombs, and he had asked himself it all of this had been worth it.
Seeing his little brother like this, sitting with his back to the closed door that stood between them and the other side of the crypt, an open book in his lap and vacant eyes staring at the opposite wall, he thought that it had not.
"Ori?" he asked cautiously, and the younger dwarf flinched and stared at Dori.
"Oh, I didn't see you."
"You could have told us where you were going," Dori said and squatted before his brother. His back protested against the movement. He was getting old, Dori realised with a jolt.
"I'm sorry," Ori answered, but didn't look his brother in the eye. "I needed some time to… well."
He motioned at the blank page of his book.
It was the same book that he had carried throughout the whole journey. A book that had made it through half of Middle-earth, filled with sketches and notes and longer texts.
"Why now?" Dori asked tentatively. "Can't that wait? Don't do that to yourself, brother," he added when Ori didn't speak, and he laid a hand onto the younger one's shoulder.
"No, it can't wait!" Ori suddenly snapped, and Dori pulled his hand away quickly. He creased his forehead as he watched his brother grabbing the pencil tightly. His knuckles stood out white, forming a stark contrast to the red scratches on his hand. "I have to do it now, or I will forget everything, and I don't want to forget, I want to remember, I want –"
He stopped abruptly, taking a deep shuddering breath, and ran his hand over his face. Dori knew that gesture. It had ever been Ori's way of shutting out the world, whether it was his father shouting at his mother, or one of the elder dwarflings teasing him. He had always been rather timid and had sooner hidden than get into a fight.
He didn't have a choice this time.
"Ori?"
"I want them alive," Ori choked, and Dori thought that surely someone must have heard the sound of his heart shattering on the stone floor. There was such misery and pain in Ori's voice that he should never have known in his young life. Misery and pain from which he, as the older brother, should have kept him safe.
"I know, Ori. I know."
He sat down next to him and all his instincts screamed at him to pull his brother close like he had always done. But this was different. Ori was not a child anymore, and there were some things that could not be fixed with a hug and a few words. This was bigger.
"I want to write down what happened, but I can't."
"That's alright, Ori. You can do that anytime you like, and if you don't feel like it, you don't have to do it at all. Nobody asks this of you."
"You don't understand!" cried Ori, and now for the first time his gaze met Dori's. "I want to, but I can't, because I don't know!"
Tears assembled in the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away with his sleeve and bit his trembling lip.
"I don't know what happened to them, and part of me is glad because this whole battle is just a blur and noises and I don't want to think of it ever again, but they were my friends, Dori, they were my friends and –"
He buried his face in his hands, and the book fell from his lap and came to rest on the stone floor. It was then that Dori put an arm around his shoulders. They were shaking beneath his hand. Ori might not be a child anymore, but Mahal knew he looked like one, a lost child collapsing beneath the grief like so many did after a battle.
"I'm sorry," Dori mumbled, "I am so, so sorry. I never should have taken you with me."
He should have left him behind, he had known it the very first time he'd heard the shrieking of the orcs and the howling of wargs. It had been a mistake, and above all it had been arrogant. Arrogant to think that he'd be able to protect him forever, when he of all his brothers knew what dangers lurked beyond the borders of their safe lands.
"Why did you?"
"How was I supposed to look after you if you had stayed behind?"
There was silence for a moment. Ori's sobs had subsided and only the sound of his ragged breathing could be heard. He seemed to ponder his brother's answer.
Eventually he raised his head. His eyes were shining a bit too brightly, and they were unnaturally red, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face as well.
"I guess some things will never change," he said quietly, and Dori nodded thoughtfully. Many years had passed ever since Ori's father had left their mother, and they had all grown up, but Dori had never stopped taking care of his youngest brother. It was Dori who had raised him, Dori who had chased away the monsters under the bed, Dori who had sworn that he would look after him no matter what.
"I'm glad you took me on the quest."
Ori's small voice was barely audible as he spoke. He picked the book up from the floor and flipped through the pages. Dori caught a glimpse of a picture of Bofur and Bilbo sitting side by side at the fire, and one of Glóin sharpening the blade of his axe. There were Bombur and Bifur, and one picture of Fíli and Kíli on horseback, laughing at someone. Bilbo, most probably, Dori thought. They had enjoyed making fun of him when he hadn't been able to hide his dislike of riding.
Good times we had, despite everything.
But now Ori was staring at an empty page.
"Everything we went through – I wouldn't miss it for all the gold in Erebor. But if I had known… if I had known how it would end, I'm not so sure. It all feels so wrong. I want to be at home here, I really do, but now all I can think about is the blood that was shed and I can't –"
He stopped there, wiping his eyes furiously once more.
"I don't even know what happened to them," he continued with a slightly raspy voice. "Bilbo is gone, and I dare not ask Dwalin, and I'm not even sure if he knows, and then how will those that come after us know? How will they be remembered? How will I remember them?"
The last words came out as a whisper, and out of instinct Dori pulled his brother close.
"You don't need to put it into words. Not as long as they are always right there," and he laid a hand onto Ori's chest, "and as long as our people keep them alive in our songs and stories. And I know that it hurts to think that we'll never hear their voices again and see them in these halls, but please, do not despair. We will find a home here, and we'll always have each other. Our family. That's what matters."
He realised that his own eyes were stinging as he spoke, but here, far away from everyone but his little brother, he didn't care.
Tear streaks were visible on Ori's pale face, but he smiled weakly at Dori's words.
"I belong with my brother. Yes, I will remember that."
"We all will."
They remained like that for a while longer, seated on the cold ground, while around them the torches cast flickering shadows onto the walls. From afar they could hear the sound of music and laughter, but it was only after some time when eventually Dori was the first one to get to his feet.
"Nori might be worried," he said and reached out his hand.
"Or he's busy helping himself to some golden plates as we speak," Ori muttered, but accepted Dori's help nonetheless and allowed him to pull him up.
They glanced at the closed door of the crypt once more, and without saying a word they both bowed their heads simultaneously. Side by side they returned to the grand hall, and Dori thought that maybe, just maybe, they would all learn to laugh again someday as long as their family stuck together.
He would make sure they did.