Another day, another painting. Ori smiled happily as he added the final brush strokes to a portrait of his brothers. Letting it dry, he removed it from the easel and hung it on the wall to join the ever growing collection of faces. All the company smiled down on him now, painted to perfection from memory. He was proud that he did not need to have his subjects pose for him, his talent such that he could remember even the smallest details. Letting out a soft chuckle as the picture began to move, he sat back to watch the figures interact with one another. He had grown used to seeing it after a time, and looked forward to their smiles and winks. Drawn out of his reverie, he sniffed appreciatively, inhaling the scent of frying sausages. It only took a moment to wash out the brushes and leave his room, closing the door securely behind him.
"Something smells delightful," he grinned cheerfully as he strolled into the kitchen. Nori looked up from his position at the stove.
"Morning brother. Just about ready." He turned back to his task, making sure the juicy links were done to a golden turn. The scent was heavenly, seeming to warm the air around them. Sausages finished, he scooped them out of the pan and onto three plates, quickly following up with eggs and toasted bread.
"Ahh, there you are Ori," Dori called out happily, entering the room from the pantry, arms laden with mugs of ale. "How's your painting coming along?" he asked curiously.
Ori gave a neutral shrug. "Well enough I suppose," he answered carefully. He made sure to keep a smile on his face for his brothers, even as his stomach twisted nervously.
"When are you going to show us any of them?" Nori teased. "I'm sure they cannot be that bad."
Shaking his head, Ori avoided their gaze. "Not just yet, they are not ready." He was grateful that his brothers were not pushy, respecting his privacy as they nodded. He immersed himself in his food, missing the concerned look they shared. They would not interfere in their brother's life, but his unwillingness to share with them had them worried. It was uncharacteristic of him, when he was usually so eager to display his accomplishments.
Ori slumped his shoulders, dragging himself out of the training yards dejectedly. He had promised himself he would continue to train after going through the horrific battle to reclaim the mountain. It had almost cost him his life several times, and he hated feeling so ill equipped. It seemed that was easier said than done however. He had picked the sword, thinking that a light blade would be relatively simple to wield. It was to his dismay then that he found that even Bilbo fought better than him. His slingshot was useless against large foes. To master a larger weapon was imperative to his training, Dwalin had told him in no uncertain terms. He trusted his companion to lead him right, but it was hard not to feel discouraged with how little progress he was making. The large warrior offered no comment when he asked if he was on target, simply giving a noncommittal grunt and adjusting his grip on the unfamiliar weapon.
Entering his room, he ignored the greetings his brothers offered as he petulantly slammed the door and tossed his gear into the corner with a clank. Dori immediately rose from his chair, determined to figure out the cause of his brother's sour mood.
"Not now," Nori muttered quietly. The elder shot him a frown of disbelief. "Let him work it out, I'll go speak with Dwalin and see what the matter is."
Dori sighed. "You're right. I just hate seeing him like this." He returned to his chair as Nori slipped out the door.
Meanwhile, Ori was a little afraid when his anger continued to grow instead of abating. He could not recall a time when he actually wanted to hurt something, and sought a way to divest himself of the violent emotion. Setting up his easel, he began to take out his frustrations on the canvas. Rage took shape, becoming a dark black warg with snarling teeth and heavy paws. Blood dripped from its mouth and a feral light gleamed in its eyes. By the time the painting was finished, Ori felt decidedly calmer, and he sat back to examine this new work. He felt a morbid fascination with what his emotions had conjured up, and was surprised when this picture didn't move. He had been expecting it to snarl at him or something, laughing nervously when it remained still.
Ori left the room not long after, closing the door behind him. The pictures on the wall were the only ones to bear witness to the scene that followed. Painted eyes widened in fear as the warg slowly eased its way out of the canvas, before curling up on the floor to watch the door intently with its murderous gaze.
The two remaining brothers sat talking quietly, carefully avoiding the sore subject of Ori's earlier abrupt entrance. Their talk was interrupted when Nori returned from speaking with Dwalin.
"Been to the training yards have you?" Ori asked, surprisingly calm.
His brothers eyed him uncertainly. "Aye," Nori replied slowly. He kept his tone neutral, not wanting to provoke a reaction out of his little brother. "Dwalin mentioned you were struggling with your training a little."
"It's fine," Ori shrugged dismissively.
"You know, when I first started out with anything other than my knives, I had trouble too," Nori admitted, grinning at the surprise that flickered across Ori's face.
"You did? But you're good at everything!" Ori blurted out, disbelief coloring his tone.
Dori chuckled, used to the adulation Ori showered on them. "It's true. Why I remember..." He was swiftly silenced by a punch from Nori.
"Never mind that," he said quickly, embarrassed by the tales his brother could tell of him. He hurried to deflect the talks, happy to see that Ori had lost his sad look and was almost gleeful at the thought of Nori messing up like he had. "Maybe I can come with you tomorrow, help out a little. It would be nice to train together, and it's been awhile since I picked up a sword."
"I'd like that," Ori admitted, offering his brother a grateful hug. Stepping back towards his room, he sent a smile their way. "I have something I need to take care of, I'll be right back." He opened his door, still looking back at the two and took a single step into the room. About to turn away, he was stopped short at the look of utter horror crossing their faces.
"Ori," Nori choked out. "Step back slowly and don't turn around." As he spoke, Nori's hands were drifting to the hilts of his knives, while beside him Dori was praying silently, weaponless and fearful.
"What's the matter?" Ori frowned, brows furrowed at the sight of his brothers obvious distress. An irrational part of him began to panic, thinking they meant to attack him. He unconsciously took another step back, before he stiffened at the sound of a low growl from behind him. "Please tell me we got a dog and you didn't tell me," he pleaded, knowing it was impossible as no one had been in his room since he left it. His brain was quickly connecting the dots, and he knew what he would find when he turned around, but he had to see...
"Ori no!" Dori screamed, as a huge black form sent him crashing to the ground. Ori wrestled desperately with the snarling warg that was crouched over him, terrified into silence. He kicked out, managing to hit it in the snout, and was awarded a moment to breathe as the warg snarled in pained anger. He scooted backwards, yelling when his leg was crushed in the wargs powerful jaws. Holding back a strangled sob, he ducked as Nori launched himself onto their assailant. Dori was quick to pull him out of the way when the distracted beast let go its hold.
"Call for help!" Nori yelled, barely holding the beast at bay with his knives. He scored a hit , partially blinding the warg and further enraging it. It began to drive him back, lessening the protective space they had created for their wounded brother.
Dori raced to the front door, yanking it open in a panic. "Attack!" he screamed, rousing the attention of several nearby guards, and Thorin himself. The group raced towards him.
"Dori, what is going on?" Thorin asked thunderously, his concern tucked aside as he hurried to get the information he needed.
"A warg, attacked Ori, he's injured. Nori is fighting him off but he only has his knives!" Dori rattled out his report, stepping aside so the guards could enter the room. They clashed with the beast with a roar, nudging an exhausted Nori out of the way and swiftly dispatching the foe.
"Dori, go fetch Oin, Nori and I will stay with your brother." The eldest brother hastened to obey his kings orders, casting a last worried glance back to the room where Ori lay, his breathing erratic. Once he was running down the hall Thorin turned to Nori. "What happened?" he asked. Nori heard the implied accusation in his tone. 'How could you let this happen?'
Bristling, Nori was quick to offer what he could. "Sire I don't know. The warg was in Ori's room, I have no idea how it got there, especially since Ori was in there not ten minutes before the incident and he did not mention anything. I cannot imagine the warg sparing him one moment and attacking the next..." The implication that an enemy appeared out of thin air left them all feeling unsettled.
Thorin motioned to the guard. "Increase patrols and search the mountain. I want to know immediately if we have any other enemies to worry about." The guards bowed, leaving the room to muster the defenses.
Nori sat stroking his brothers hair, muttering soothing words to the dwarf as he began to rapidly lose consciousness. Thorin stayed at their side for a moment before rising and heading towards the room recently vacated by their trespasser. "What are you doing?" Nori asked him, making no indication that he actually cared at this point. His attention was with his brother, that he had failed to protect.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Thorin growled. He stomped into the room, momentarily startled at the sight of dozens of paintings covering the walls. It wasn't the quality of the art that amazed him, though it was good. It was the expressions on the faces. They all looked terrified, and he was a little creeped out that Ori would portray them that way. Even his own face was up there, perfect in detail and wearing a grimace of fear. Only one unfinished canvas rested on the easel in the center of the room. It was bare save for a few reddish brown splotches that looked suspiciously like bloodstains...