A/N : And here it comes, Part II of the King of Carven Stone re-edited, and set in Erebor! The main modifications are in chapter 3, otherwise I just put a few more Khuzdûl nicknames. I am sorry it is not the update of the Tharbad-part (id est, the new chapter of "The King of Carven Stone"), but I want to finish editing : clears space in my mind, helps me write better :). The next chapter should come soon - in the meantime, thank you so much for (re)reading!
PS: whenever you read a Dwarven age, simply divide it by half to get the Human equivalent - my own headcanon until Dwarves turn 24 :). I'll explain the rest when we get there! Take care, much love, Meysun.
The King of Carven Stone : Part II
Shades and Flames on Marble Walls (Erebor)
1.
It began in Halls of Stone, between high walls, cold and mighty as the Mountain itself.
Halls, staircases, passages and yards, all made of rock and stone, and I was looking at the depth under me, leaning against the wall behind the highest balustrade, watching the shades and shapes woven by the lights below on the dark and polished walls.
They say water is Nature's way of carving stone. Since that day I have always thought that firelight is its way to adorn it, with its infinite patterns of light and shadow.
"It is beautiful, laddie, is it not?"
The kind voice next to me startled me. I had forgotten the passage on my left, where guards were supposed to have a look now and then. I was very young, a small Dwarfling still, and my hair was yet too short to braid it, floating freely around my face.
"Black as a Raven...", my mother would say fondly, running her fingers through my locks.
And as I would frown in annoyance, she would bend softly towards me, take my face between her fingers and touch my forehead with hers.
"Do not worry, thunbelê. It will grow...", she would whisper, and I would lean into her embrace and bury my face in her shoulder, feeling warm and protected.
But not anymore. She was always busy now, with that stupid, useless, screaming little creature they said was my brother. I had told them it was not, angry, hurt and desperate to get their attention back.
"It's an Orc!", I had spat out, and my mother had looked up in dismay as my father had slapped me, leaving a hot and burning mark on my cheek.
I had run from our Halls, struggling against choking tears, not caring that I would get lost, and when my legs could carry me no more, because I had climbed higher than the highest staircase, I had slumped against the wall and wept bitterly. Tired and spent, I had been sitting there silent and motionless, gazing at the lights dancing upon the stone.
Until a voice raised me.
I struggled to get back on my feet, making sure my face was clear of tears, but the Dwarf that had just stepped out on the balcony laid his hand upon my shoulder.
"No need to stir, lad. It is a nice place to rest. I suppose you do not mind sharing it for a little while?"
I looked at his face, taking him in. He was younger than my father, with a large nose and long brown hair, and a very full and bushy chestnut beard. His eyes were bright, with little wrinkles on their corners, just as if he was smiling, and yet he was not.
"I don't mind", said I with a cracked voice, shifting a little to give him some space.
He sat himself on the floor next to me, stretching his legs with a comfortable groan, and for a while we both stayed silent.
I was in awe of him; I had never talked to any guard before, because my father used to settle things with them, leaving me to play alone or with my mother. But not anymore.
"You are Thráin's little son, are you not?", the Dwarf finally asked in a gentle voice.
"I am Thorin", I answered, trying to steady myself. "And I am not his little son, not anymore."
If the challenge in my voice amused him, he did not show it. He seemed to ponder my words for a while.
"How so, Thorin? You cannot simply stop to be somebody's son, don't you think?
- Yes you can!", I said fiercely. "Because he just got himself another one, and he likes him more.
- I do not think so...", the Dwarf replied softly, and these words freed my tears again despite of myself.
"Yes he does!", I managed to thrust back to him, between hot and angry sobs. "Everybody does! They think he is cute and adorable and sweet, but he only wails and cries and keeps everybody awake, and no one cares about me anymore! It is always Thorin be quiet, your brother is sleeping, Thorin not now, your brother has to eat, Thorin be a good lad and try to amuse yourself, you are old enough now..."
I was sobbing so hard now that my body was shaking.
"I don't want to be old enough! I don't like him, I don't want him with us and... and... if they like him better than me, then I... then I won't come back!
- Now, now...", the Dwarf said soothingly.
He put his large hand on my shoulder and pulled me close to him, rubbing my back roughly as I was crying myself out again. And I did not mind and just stayed like this, with my cheek on his hard mesh coat, soaking it with my tears.
"And where would you go, laddie, eh..?"
I wiped my nose, pulling slightly back from his embrace.
"To Dale.
- Oh, to Dale... I see..."
He was still rubbing my back, and after this second outburst, exhaustion was slowly invading me.
"I will tell you what would happen if you leave these halls to go to Dale, Thorin-beloved-first-son-of-Thráin. Your parents would both weep, and search Mountain and Valley for you, not resting until they would find you.
- No they would not.", I said stubbornly.
The Dwarf chuckled.
"You are proud, lad, you are indeed. And yet I can tell you they would, because you are as dear to them as their own life. Because they love you, and always will, no matter how far you go and how long you hide.
- Not anymore..."
He shook his head at my words.
"Your brother is very small, Thorin, and helpless. He cannot walk, nor get his food without help, because he is still a babe, as you were once. And he needs to be cared for just as you did.
- No I didn't!"
I broke free from his embrace and he smiled at the indignation glowing in my eyes.
"'Course you did. Endless days and nights, and a pretty number of songs it took to lull you to sleep, I can tell you... I saw your 'adad carry you in his arms and sing for you for hours and hours until you would at last choose to close your eyes...
- You did?"
I was too astonished to try to deny it. The Dwarf nodded with a smile.
"It is your brother's turn to be small, and to require attention. And soon you will see him grow and cling to you and amuse you and you will be so glad to have him there that you will not believe that you could have lived so long without him. It happened to me, you know...
- Really?"
He nodded again.
"Yes. He is away for now, and barely older than you, I left him with my parents in the Iron Hills. I have long lived without him, and yet I could not imagine life without him now."
Somehow, deep inside myself, I could feel that he was right. I leant against him once more, my hot cheek against the iron of his chainmail.
"They won't want me anymore. I said he was an Orc."
The Dwarf's body shook against mine in silent laughter.
"Did you, laddie? You are a wee one, you are indeed..."
His hand ruffled my hair.
"Do not worry. I am sure they will want you back.
- Can I stay with you if they won't?"
I had asked shyly, and this time the Dwarf stayed silent for a second, a little stunned. Then he stood up, lifting me in his arms and placing me on his hip.
"Sure, laddie. And when they will take you back – because they will – and if you get bored or lonely, you can always come down to the Guards' Halls and ask for Balin.
- Balin...", I repeated softly, settling closer against him, tired to the bone and rocked by his even pace as he was beginning to climb down the stairs.
"Balin son of Fundin, yes."
I closed my eyes, soothed by his calm voice and by the fact that he was carrying me back to my parents, saving me from facing them alone. I fell asleep, however, long before we left the last staircase behind us, because I was still a small Dwarfling counting only six winters.
"I found him, Thráin. In the upper Halls..."
His voice woke me, as did the movement that made me shift from his arms into another strong and warm embrace. I knew this scent and these hands, and I could only sink deeper into them, wanting their grip around me to last forever.
"A wee lad, with an iron will and a brave little heart..."
I opened my eyes just a tiny bit – I did not want my father to put me down on the floor and be angry again, it was better to pretend to be still asleep. And half-asleep I was, but still I saw Balin's swift wink, and knew since that day that he would always be my friend.
And I would too, I promised myself, before giving in to sleep, with dreams of stone and shadows, and soft whispers among the flames.
Neo-Kuzdûl translations :
- thunbelê : my little thunder, Thorin's nickname as a child
- 'adad : father.