A/N: So remember when I said two more chapters? I lied. I accidentally wrote a lot. This is half of what was supposed to be chapter 6, and as you have already seen, I also inserted the letter mentioned in chapter 1.
Thanks to madammadhatter for being my beta and to MarigoldFaucet, Mhyin, Nalbal, and Pericula Ludus for their help. With this chapter and all chapters, really. I have the best friend team. GO US.
Two more chapters after this. I hope I'm not lying this time. My stories are always longer than planned...
Mum, come as quickly as you can. Something is wrong with Fíli.
Dís had lost count of how many times she had read those words. It was surely in the hundreds, if not the thousands. Each time she unfolded the note, which was now dangerously close to falling apart, she tried to find some hidden meaning, some clue as to what was wrong with her eldest, but the writing stayed the same every time. Just as vague and cryptic as the last time she had read it. Something is wrong with Fíli—but what? What could have happened to her eldest that was so severe that Kíli would send a secret extra note to request her presence as soon as possible?
The official letter had not given much information, either—not the information she sought now, anyway. She had been incredibly relieved to know that her brother and her sons were all still alive, of course; six months was a lot longer than she had expected to wait to hear back from them, and she wondered what had caused such a delay. Thorin had decided to take them on secret paths, but that still didn't account for nearly three months longer than she would have expected, and she had started to think that she would never hear back at all. But then a raven had arrived with a message, both relieving her fears and increasing them.
First of all, this battle concerned her greatly. Orcs from Moria—at Erebor? She had allowed Thorin take her two sons, not even of marrying age, to reclaim a mountain with a dragon inside—well, not allowed. They were both of Durin's folk, after all, and no amount of pleading could take away their iron will. But not only had they encountered a dragon—whose cause of death was a mystery to her—but the same Orcs who had taken her grandfather, her brother, and countless others of her kin had tried to take her precious boys as well. How successful had they been? They were both still alive, as the letter was written in both of their handwriting, but even that left her with a worrying question.
The letter was almost completely in Kíli's hand. Dís knew her sons; if they had both worked on this together, Fíli should have been the one to do most of the writing. He was better at this sort of thing, and both her sons knew it. So why was Kíli the one who had written it? And then with an extra note attached asking her to come as soon as she could—well, she certainly would, but she wished Kíli had said what had happened instead of just saying that something was wrong. Thousands of scenarios had already gone through her mind, but what seemed most likely to her was that something had happened to him during the battle, and now he was suffering because of it. She just wished she knew how.
She had wasted no time in heading out after she got the letter, recruiting a small group to come with her. Others would come at a later time, of course, but Dís was not willing to wait. With her was Gimli—young but already nearly as competent in combat as her sons—and his mother, Ari. Also accompanying her was Flán, a blacksmith's son and one of Kíli's close friends. Of course, the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains would not hear of two Dwarf ladies, especially ones so noble as Dís and Ari, traveling with only two young, inexperienced Dwarves to protect them, so two older dwarves, Einar and Vígi—cousins of Jóli's—had volunteered to come along as well.
And now, four months after leaving the Blue Mountains, they had finally arrived. Dirty, tired, and road-weary, but they had made it. Dís marveled at the lights of Dale at dusk; she had been small, very small, the last time she had been anywhere near this mountain, and most of her memories were of fire and ruin. But now, twinkling lights of lanterns and torches smiled down on her.
"Come, lads, come and see," she had said in a hushed tone, waving Gimli and Flán over. Their faces had lit up with wonder at the sight of the beautiful city, once ruined, and now rebuilt and sparkling. But they still had further to go. After giving everyone a minute or so to marvel in the splendor of Dale, she pushed them on towards the Mountain. It was already dark, and she was ready to rest after four long months of cold and snow.
The watchmen on the wall saw them first. In the darkness, Dís could not see who was on the wall, but she had caught a glimpse of red in the torchlight, and she could make a guess—and she was right. When they reached the gates, a blur of a dwarf flew past her, crashing into Ari with a shout of joy.
"Ari! My wife! My beautiful bride!" Glóin cried out, his voice wavering with emotion. A moment later, the two of them were kissing furiously, and Gimli was groaning and turning to Flán. Just as Glóin finally stopped to breathe and greet his son, a shout sounded from the gate.
"Dís! Dís!"
Dís looked towards the gate and instantly braced herself, for Thorin was barreling towards her full speed, and it didn't look like he was going to stop. He crashed into her, almost knocking her over, and hugged her tightly. Dís laughed and hugged him back.
"Easy on a travel-weary woman!" she said, chuckling. "You'll knock me over."
"Don't care," Thorin mumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck. "I missed you, Dís."
Dís smiled. "And I you," she said. "But come, let me go—show me the mountain. And where are my boys?"
Thorin pulled away, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes. But then he grinned again and kissed her on the forehead.
"I sent Kíli to get Fíli," he said. "They should be along shortly, I am sure." He turned to the group of travelers and waved. "Come in to your new home! Especially you, lads. Come see the great halls of your fathers!"
The group was escorted inside by the crowd that had now gathered—others of the Company had come to greet the small band of newcomers, and some folk from the Iron Hills had come, as well. Dís exchanged greetings with her friends and kin with many embraces and kisses, and then she returned to her brother's side, watching Gimli and Flán experience Erebor for the very first time. They looked as if their eyes were about to fall out of their heads, so wide were they, and Dís giggled.
"I would have told you to bring more, had you waited for a return letter," Thorin said, walking beside his sister with a hand around her shoulders. "Only the six of you? Hardly safe."
"Seems to be a bit safer around these parts these days," Dís replied, gaping at the splendor that surrounded her. Thorin was silent for a minute or two, allowing her time to drink it in as they passed through the main hall.
"Better than you remember, isn't it?" he said softly.
"Aye," she breathed. "Aye, it is."
"Mum!"
That was Kíli's voice. Dís looked up and searched the room for her youngest, finding him barreling towards her just as fast as her brother had. She laughed and opened her arms, and Kíli dove into them, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her in the air. Dís laughed, holding on for dear life as Kíli spun her around; then he set her down and kissed her cheek, smiling brighter than the sun.
"Oh, it's good to see you," he said. "I've wanted to talk to you forever… there's so much to tell you, we had so many adventures and I've got to tell you about Bilbo—"
"Slow down, Kíli," said Dís, chuckling. "I've only just gotten here, and I'm not going anywhere. There's plenty of time to talk about your journey." She looked over Kíli's shoulder and frowned. "Where is Fíli?"
The grin on Kíli's face suddenly dropped, and his eyes shifted to Thorin. Dís watched some silent communication between them and furrowed her brow. Something is wrong with Fíli.
"Well?"
Kíli looked at the others gathered around nervously, and then suddenly he resumed his previous cheery disposition.
"He's just not feeling well today," he said. "I went to fetch him, but he was asleep, and I didn't want to wake him up." His eyes moved to Thorin again. "You know how he gets."
Dís narrowed her eyes, but she did not protest; whatever was going on, she could see that her son did not want to discuss it in front of everyone.
"Say hello to the others," she said, patting him on the cheek. "They've been eager to see you."
Kíli looked beyond Dís, his eyes widening and his sunshine of a grin returning as he noticed his cousin and friend for the first time.
"Gimli! Flán!" he cried, tackling the two of them with hugs. Dís looked on with a smile and then sidled up to her brother again.
"Fíli is ill?" she said quietly.
"Not exactly," Thorin replied. "Well, yes—but no. We'll discuss that in private. Here is not the place."
"How is that an answer?" Dís said sharply. "Is he ill or not?"
Thorin wrapped an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. "Not here, poppet," he whispered. "We will speak later. I promise."
Dís pressed her lips together and watched Kíli laugh and roughhouse with his peers, leaning into Thorin. If that was all the answer her brother and her son were going to give at the moment, she was not going to press them, no matter how badly she wanted to know—they would not change their minds. But the pain of not knowing and worry for her eldest gnawed at her insides, fighting to pull her away from the group and towards Fíli.
"Can we speak now?" she said, shifting impatiently.
Thorin sighed as he watched Kíli. "Dís, you just got here… you should at least get settled in before we talk about this…"
"You want me to get settled in before I have even seen Fíli, who is apparently so unwell that Kíli won't even wake him to greet his mother, whom he has not seen in nearly a year? Thorin…"
"All right, all right," said Thorin, pulling her away from the crowd. "Let's go now."
Dís followed her brother through the vast marble halls, leaving Kíli to his friends and family. The two were silent as they walked; Dís took in the general splendor surrounding her, amazed. She had only been ten years old when Smaug had descended upon the Mountain, and the memories she had were fuzzy and ill-formed, replaced by years of wandering and the blue-grey stone of the Blue Mountains. But as she walked through the halls, bits and pieces came back to her, fitting together the scenery and old memories.
They stopped before the stone doors to a room that Dís recognized. She looked to her brother.
"This is Adad's room," she said.
"Well, it was," Thorin replied, pushing the door open. "Now it's mine."
"You didn't take Gamiladad's room?" she asked, following him into the familiar study. The furniture was still in the same place as she remembered, and she had to blink a few times before she could convince herself that she was actually there and not imagining it.
Thorin closed the door behind them and beckoned her over to the chairs by the fireplace. He sat down heavily and watched his sister take her seat with sad eyes.
"I couldn't," he said. "That room is closed and locked. No one goes there."
Dís furrowed her brow. "You couldn't?"
"I mean, I could have, had I wanted to," Thorin clarified, "but when I went in…" He shook his head. "There was gold—so much gold everywhere. Do you remember how he was, Dís, about the gold? I couldn't… I couldn't."
"I remember a little," Dís said slowly. There was more to this than Thorin was saying. She sat quietly and waited for him to continue. Thorin looked down, pressing his hand over his mouth and closing his eyes tightly.
"Thorin, what's wrong?" said Dís.
Thorin lowered his hand and looked at her with tears in his eyes.
"I was the same way," he said. "I did the same thing. It started the moment I stepped inside the mountain, Dís—the moment I saw all that gold… I lost my mind. I didn't even care about—about anything, I didn't even know if the lads were dead or alive, all I cared about was gold and the Arkenstone—"
"Whether they were dead or alive?" Dís said. "When? Thorin, what are you talking about?"
Thorin told her the story then, recounting the tale from their capture and escape from Mirkwood up until the Battle of Five Armies. Dís sat horrified and silent, one hand over her mouth, as he told her of Kíli's arrow-wound, leaving the lads behind in Lake-town, and inadvertently setting the dragon on that poor, unsuspecting town. Tears ran down Thorin's face unheeded as he told of how he had not even looked upon the town as it burned, though his nephews and Óin and Bofur were still there—how his eyes had only been on Erebor.
"I am sorry, Dís," he said, reaching out beseechingly. "I am so sorry—I promised I would keep them safe, and I lost myself to madness. I do not even deserve to ask for forgiveness."
Dís looked hard at her brother.
"Is that what is wrong with Fíli?" she asked. "Does it have something to do with that?"
Thorin's eyes widened. "No!" he said. "No, that's—Dís, what do you mean? What do you already know?"
"Nothing," Dís replied. "All I know is this." She pulled the letter out of her pocket and handed it to Thorin. As he opened it, the little note from Kíli fluttered to the ground. He picked it up and looked at it.
"Kíli sent you this?" he said, looking up at her.
Dís nodded. "I've been in the dark for four months, Thorin. You still haven't told me what is wrong with my son."
Thorin scanned the official letter from the boys and then sighed, folding it and setting it down on the table beside him.
"He won't speak," he said. "He hasn't spoken since the battle, Dís. He won't tell us what is wrong or why he is silent. Óin says he is capable of speaking, and yet he will not. He has not. He has not said a word in five months."
"What?" Dís exclaimed, her heart dropping down into her stomach. "Five months, and he has not communicated with anyone?"
"Well, every once in a while he'll sign something if an answer is needed, but he doesn't talk about things," Thorin replied. "If we ask him what is bothering him, he panics and runs away. At first, we tried to get it out of him, but it only makes him worse… Three months ago, he had a complete meltdown… I've never seen him like that, Dís. It was like he was trying to scream and he couldn't."
"Durin's beard," Dís whispered. She could feel tears building in the corners of her eyes. Her poor boy… what had happened to him?
"Ever since, I have told everyone not to press him, that he will speak when he feels he can. But it's been a long time since then, and he's still like this."
"Why did he stop talking?" asked Dís. She remembered the last time Fíli had done this, when he was but a seven-year-old boy. He had not taken his father's death well, and it had taken months of love and comfort to draw him back out of his shell.
"That's what I wish I could find out," said Thorin bitterly, glaring into the flames in the hearth. He resumed his story, telling her of the battle, how Fíli had been captured by Azog and the events that unfolded thereafter. Dís could scarcely breathe. She felt as if it required all her strength just to stay in her seat and listen to the rest of the story instead of dashing out of the room to find her son. The moment Thorin finished, she rose, and her brother rose with her.
"Take me to him, Thorin," she said. "Please. Take me to him now."
"Kíli said he was asleep," Thorin said, looking beyond her to the door nervously. "He doesn't react well to being woken up… we usually just let him sleep when he has bad days."
"Bad days?" asked Dís.
"He has nightmares," Thorin explained. "And night terrors, too. We have an Elvish medicine that stops them, but he doesn't take it every night… He used to, but now he takes it if a bad dream wakes him. And then he sleeps for most of the day and shuts himself away for the rest."
Dís frowned. "How often does he have bad days?"
"Less now," said Thorin, "but still often. Once or twice a week."
Dís frowned. She had waited so long to see her sons again, and now that she was here, she could not see her eldest. Her heart was pulling her to Fíli, but she did not want to make him worse, either. She bit her lip and looked up at her brother, who stepped towards her and wrapped her in a hug.
"I'm so sorry, poppet," he whispered in her ear. "I failed you."
Dís took a deep breath and held tightly to Thorin.
"He's alive," she said. "That is what is important. I will have to thank that Master Baggins."
"We will visit him someday," Thorin said. "You must meet him. He is an excellent fellow."
A knock came at the door then, and Thorin and Dís separated as Kíli's voice sounded from the other side.
"It's me—can I come in?"
"Yes, come in, Kíli," Thorin called.
The door opened, and Kíli stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He strode forward and embraced his mother again.
"I missed you so much," he mumbled. "I was hoping you'd come as soon as you got our letter."
"Well, how could I not?" said Dís. "What with your little note about Fíli…"
Kíli pulled away and looked at his mother with shining brown eyes. "Did Uncle tell you?"
Dís nodded, and Kíli swallowed and looked down at the ground.
"He still won't speak. He just sits around, staring into space… I mean, he's gotten better, but still—"
"You miss him," Dís finished, touching the side of his face gently. Kíli nodded slightly, keeping his gaze down. He sniffled.
"Come, my darling," said Dís, taking his hands in her own. "I still remember where there's a kitchen around this wing. I'll make you a cup of tea and we'll talk."
Kíli nodded, pulling her along with him towards the door. Dís smiled back at Thorin as her son practically dragged her away, and he shrugged, biting back a grin of his own. Soon they were down in the kitchen, and Dís was setting a kettle on for tea, thankfully already supplied. Her family had clearly prepared for her coming.
Dís and Kíli talked for a long while. Kíli could not say enough about Bilbo Baggins, and Dís nearly felt as if she had known him herself by the time Kíli had reached the point in his tale in which they had reached Lake-town. She would definitely have to meet this esteemed Burglar someday—though he was clearly not Dwarf-like at all, he was a sensible Hobbit, and braver than would be expected from one of their kind. Not to mention the fact that he had apparently saved Fíli's life, and Thorin's too; well, she had much to thank this kind Hobbit for.
Kíli also told her about the goings-on in the mountain after it had been reclaimed. Dáin had stayed for a few months, but he was back in the Iron Hills now, and he had taken a large part of his army back with him. Some had stayed, deciding to make Erebor their home, and some women and children had already come to meet their husbands. It was still mostly empty, however, and Kíli seemed to be thankful for it. Apparently, Fíli had made a few scenes, but few had witnessed or even heard about them. A shadow passed over his countenance every time the conversation led back to Fíli, and Dís's heart ached for her eldest. She wished she could see him, but after hearing Kíli's explanation, she understood why she should wait.
"He doesn't take well to being woken up," Kíli said. "You know how deeply he sleeps… you have to shake him pretty hard to wake him, and that frightens him. He's tried to fight me off a few times."
"Why?" Dís said, frowning.
"I don't know," Kíli said, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. "I mean, I can guess… he reacts pretty badly any time anyone grabs him, and Azog did drag him out, so maybe that's enough, but it just feels like there's something more to it."
"What else can you tell me about Fíli, love?" Dís said.
Kíli sighed and looked down at his mug of tea. "Well, he won't talk, and trying to make him talk only makes him panic. I don't know what he's holding back or why he has to. If you ask him a simple question he might respond with a nod or a shake of his head… if you're lucky, with some Iglishmêk, but that's all." He grimaced. "He doesn't have a problem signing 'go away' either."
Dís smiled affectionately. "Have you been hovering, Kíli?"
Kíli looked up at her, his expression comically indignant.
"I don't hover!" he said. "I just… I just want to make sure he's all right. That's all."
"You hover," Dís said resolutely. "You can be quite the worrywart, for someone who is usually so reckless."
Kíli scowled even harder. "I'm not…"
Dís raised an eyebrow, and Kíli deflated.
"All right, maybe I am a little reckless," he muttered.
"A little?" Dís said, a grin sneaking onto her face.
"I'm not dead, am I?" Kíli said, affronted. "Honestly, mother, give me some credit, eh?"
"All right, I'll give you that much," Dís conceded. "Though I'd like to ask how you got that scar down the side of your face…"
Kíli slapped a hand over his left cheek. "The orc was going to stab me in the heart!" he said defensively. "You should be glad he missed. Besides, it looks tough."
Dís chuckled. Tough. He may have been seventy-eight years old, but he was still a lad in some ways.
"I am glad you are alive, Kíli," she said. "I worried about you… I worried about all of you. But especially you and Fíli."
Kíli huffed softly. "Well, I came through all right, but I'm still worried about Fíli. I'll admit that."
"I want to see him as soon as I can tomorrow," said Dís. "Who knows? A bit of love from his old Mum might help him."
"I think it will," said Kíli. "There's something he's holding back… maybe he'll open up to you. I hope that he does."
"Aye," said Dís. The two of them fell silent as Kíli finished his tea and Dís became lost in thought. She hoped that she could help Fíli; when this had happened so many years ago, she had done nothing but show him the love he always did, even if he would not speak. That was what she would do now. She would not pressure him—only love him as always. Maybe then he would open up. Maybe then he could be the Fíli she knew he wanted to be.
Credit for Flán goes to my lovely friend Nalbal. If you want to know more about him (which you do), keep an eye out for the next chapter of her fic The Mark of Gideon. There is much to love.
Guess what starts tomorrow! SCHOOL. Patience, please.
As always, reviews are appreciated greatly. :)
