I do not own anything created by Tolkien; I just have an undying love for them :)
Chapter One: A Short Rest
The night was half gone when the watchman was summoned.
"Balin! Tell us a tale," called a voice from the fire.
"Aye, your watch is over. Come warm yerself, greybeard," said another. Sighing, the old lookout left his post, nodding to Bifur as he exchanged places with the diligent, albeit mute, dwarf.
"No lads, not tonight," he said quellingly, easing onto the ground. He was nimble enough for a dwarf of his years, but age had begun to creep up on him. He massaged his hands in the firelight, hoping to ease the aches and pangs that came with the cool night air.
"Oh come on, greybeard!" moaned Kili. "You've got the most stories of any dwarf here. Come now, don't be stingy." Balin hid a smile; he was secretly pleased by this new role in the company. The lookout rather enjoyed stories, and he was an excellent storyteller; it was nice to know others appreciated the talent.
Flapping his hand at the young dwarf, he sighed heavily. "Alright, alright young Master Kili, stop your grousing. What'll it be?"
Instantly ideas were flying through the air, as is often the case with dwarves and anything that could possibly resemble an opinion.
"Something about Uncle," Kili said quickly, casting a glance over his shoulder to ensure said relation hadn't caught wind of the request for family gossip.
"Adventure!" said Gloin.
"Legend!" shouted Fili
"Romance," sighed Ori
"Friendship!" called Bofur
"I wonder…" a small voice started, and then stopped. The dwarves turned to see Bilbo Baggins, their supposed burglar, standing at the edge of their fire. He was a peculiar little fellow, ever on the outskirts of their company. At the moment he looked slightly embarrassed, but Balin nodded encouragingly, and Bilbo sat down, eyes alight. "I wonder, could we hear something true?"
The dwarves were silent for a moment, and then let out a chorus of approval. Balin unconsciously shifted his gaze to the leader of their company, Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarf sat a few feet away, seemingly oblivious to the carousing about the fire. But Balin, sharp as ever, caught the hand signal, nothing more than a quick flick. A moment later he was gone, clearly not wanting to be present for the telling of this story.
Do as you will, it had meant. Cutting his eyes at his brother, Balin nodded. Dwalin shushed the crowd, by now all eager to hear the tale.
"Then I shall tell you something that is all of them together," he said, leaning forward. Unconsciously, his companions mimicked his pose. "It is a long account, though. We may not finish it tonight."
"That's alright," grinned Fili. "It's a long way to Erebor. We could do with some entertainment along the way." The others chuckled, and then hushed themselves under Dwalin's dark glare.
"Very well," murmured Balin. "Where to begin?" he mused, staring into the fire. Dwalin shifted, catching the attention of the audience.
"Begin with the girl," he growled. "That's how it all started, isn't it? The girl, and the war."
Balin nodded sadly. "Too true, brother. Too true," he said, pausing to gather breath. Kili, ever impatient, jumped in, dark eyes alight with mischief.
"So there's a girl involved?" he asked eagerly, grinning.
"Was is a secret romance?" Ori asked a moment later, sighing wistfully.
"Was it love at first sight? Was he struck by the beauty of her hand and the glory of her train?" Kili whispered, chuckling. Fili nudged his brother hard in the ribs while the others looked about for Thorin. But he was nowhere to be seen. The dwarves around the fire began to mutter and grumble, an omen of things to come. Balin quickly raised his hands, and they quieted, impatient but with their interest piqued.
"Hardly," Balin replied cheerfully as he began to fill his pipe. "At first sight he tried to slit her throat while she had a knife at his belly. But I daresay they interested each other. She was a rare sight, to be sure. Beautiful in the way that the sea and sky and mountains are; maybe not love at first sight… but when he first saw her, truly saw her… yes. There could be no return…" his voice trailed off as he stared into the night, eyes sad as he made out a familiar shadow in the darkness. No one spoke.
After a few long moments, Balin sighed, seemingly coming back to himself. "And now I seem to have gone awry already. The war or the girl…"
Again, Dwalin's voice cut carried over the snapping embers. "Then perhaps start with yourself, brother. You were the first to see it, and the first to meet her." All eyes turned to Balin; none dared utter a sound
"Yes. Yes, that will do very well," he murmured. After a long draw on his pipe, Balin spoke, eyes fixed on the firelight. His voice seemed to swell and crack with the flames before spiraling up and out into the darkness.
"It is a good tale, if sad. She couldn't have been better matched if they had been hewn from the same stone. And he loved her, with the fierce, unyielding love of our kind. It was seven years after the War of Orcs and Dwarves. Our tale begins, as good tales ought, with a kindness done to a traveler, long ago and far away…"
I do not own any of Tolkien's creations.