I think I really like this chapter a lot, so I hope you do too!
Though I feel sorry for Dís.

Thank you again for those really sweeeet reviews, I love them!

Don't know when the next chapter will be coming but I hope a.s.a.p!

Keep those reviews coming!

Guilty

'Hit it!' I yell satisfied, while I turn around with sparkling eyes to the dwarf behind me.

'Oh, yes, killing a thing that's already dead is really hard.' He says with a roll of his eyes. 'Especially when you've been throwing daggers since you were eleven, while your forty-six now. And, not to forget, always busy killing things that are running away from you because you scare the hell out of them.' He continues with a smirk on his face.

'Yes, yes mister optimistic. But I'm still better at it than you are, and you're older than me. And I have a better skill with a bow and arrow as well.' I say, and before he could reply I turned around again and throw some other daggers at the dead creatures who were bound against a tree. I had killed these orcs yesterday, and because I was bored (since I don't have to work every hour of the day anymore) I had strangled them with a rope against some trees, and pushed Grodri along with me. I wanted to throw my knifes in their heads, and I had the excuse that I wanted to train myself again in knife throwing. Of course this was really easy for me, since they wouldn't move at all, and as Grodri said I've been doing this since I was eleven and now I'm forty-six. Seven years had passed already since we have moved here to the Blue Mountains, and not many orcs had attacked us since then. Yesterday they did, but I killed the most of them by myself, because I happen to run in them before they arrived at the mountains, and it weren't that many. And I was way more violent than they had thought as well.

I hear Grodri coming to stand next to me, but I'm to lazy to turn around again.

'I'm only a couple of years older than you and I've been starting at the proper age for my training, which is, as you know, twelve and not ten.' He protest but I shrug and snigger.

'Jealous, are you?' I ask and collect the knives I had thrown into their dead and now smashed up body's. When I'm finished I walk back to him. 'Shall we go back? I think I'm done with cutting them open. It's more fun when you hear them scream of pain.' I say bitterly.

Grodri gives me a look I can't fully place, somewhere between disgusted or horrified and distrust. 'You know, that sounds really sinister and creepy.'

I shrug again and start walking. 'What, don't you think these foul creatures deserve it, to be tortured? They murdered most of my family, and I know some of yours too.'

Grodri gives up and follows me. 'Don't you think you should put those orcs away?' he remembers but I shake my head. 'Sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure.' I say annoyed. No is no, how difficult is that? Fortunately he gets the hint and is quiet for the rest of the way. I feel a bit sorry again but don't say so. The last time I was being a bit more rude and shorter to Grodri, while he had done nothing wrong, and he's my best friend. I suppress a sigh and we return to the others. It was evening, and I was really hungry.

'I'm going to make dinner and bring it to Thorin, I'll see you later.' I say and walk to my home, throwing my weapons on the couch once I arrive. Thorin was the only one who didn't seem to get the hint that we don't have to work as much as we used to. No, it's still not Erebor, but it's way better than that murderous place we lived before. He didn't listen to me that much and neither to Grodri, also his best friend. I tried to avoid my grandmother as much as I could, since she's still angry with me. But she didn't murder me, so I'm fine. But the last thing I would do was asking her for help, perhaps I would rather die. And Thorin wouldn't listen to grandmother either, since he's a king and thinks he can do whatever he wants. He works for the people and I couldn't be more proud of him, but he doesn't sleep that much and takes no more than a twenty-minute break for his dinner. I hope that if I prepare it for him, he would spent some more time eating it and rest a bit longer.

I decide to eat myself after I brought his meal to him, and walk to the forge. He, Grodri, Dwalin and three other dwarves worked there. Grodri and another dwarf come from a family who had always made weapons, in Erebor as well, so they couldn't find anything else that made them feel more home. The others weren't as enthusiastic, especially Thorin and Dwalin. It was Grodri's day off, so they worked with the five of them right now, but another had already a family so he would probably be home already to spent the rest of the remaining day with his wife and children.

But when I arrive there, it looks like nobody's there. The light were still burning and things lay half finished on tables. Even the thing where they put their swords in to heat them looked still very hot. Hammers were laying next to the swords, but some were laying on the floor like someone dropped them. But there was not a single sound, shadow, movement or person to be seen, not even a mouse. I call their names; but my voice echo's through the place and sends a shiver down my spine. I call again, looking around and behind doors, and even outside I go around the building, but they're nowhere to be found. They could be home already, but they never left so early, especially not Thorin, and why didn't they put the lights out and put everything back into place than? I feel the concern inside me, but I try to suppress it as I quickly go back inside and call all of their names for another time, even Grodri who isn't supposed to be here. My heart stocks as I stare before me; I knew this place, it was the place where they put the finished, sharp weapons once they were finished. And it was completely empty. A worrying sickness bounces against my stomach and head and before I can turn around I hear a high-pitched scream. But dwarves have a really low voice, even I can't scream that high. My heart tightens when I realize what that scream was. It was an orc.

Where did it come from? I pick up some half-finished weapons what really concerns me, but I need some weapons and I had left mine accidently on the couch. I run outside, but the place was looking the same as it had done when I came out some moments ago. I look around, and can hear some other screams, of dwarves this time, in the distance and I see some of us also running towards the place. I follow them, but when I finally arrive there the battlefield seems to be over already, but that better be; my jaw drops open and my eyes widen of shock when I see the place. Dwarf blood mixed with orc blood was laying all over the place, even some chopped of hands or heads or other body parts. Dwarves on the ground are screaming and crying from the pain; orcs as well, but not for long, because the dwarves that had gotten here before me buried their swords in their chests. I close my eyes for a moment, but when I open them, what I see before me now is worse. I stand here staring feeling dizzy for a moment, not even noticing that I drop the weapons. I run and fall on my knees next to Dwalin, who was also kneeling for a very familiar person; My brother.

He seems unconscious, and sadly doesn't react when I slap him in the face, what I keep doing until Dwalin pulls back my hands. I scream my brother's name, but not even a muscle of him moves. Maybe he isn't unconscious at all. Maybe he's dead. 'Thorin! Thorin!' I yell desperately, and look around the place, tears welling up in my eyes. 'Quickly, take him home! Get Óin, make sure he has everything he needs!' I yell to no one in particular, but a lot of dwarves, one of them I recognize as Balin, Dwalin's brother, obey me.

I look at Dwalin's sad eyes, what make me lose all hope. He had always been worried about his friend, but this look in his eyes was far beyond worried. It seems like he had almost already given up hope, but I can see he hasn't yet. He never does. 'What was it?' I whisper with a thick voice. 'His head was smashed against that rock, and he got a smash from a sword. I immediately killed the orc, but Thorin already seemed unconscious.' He answers, nodding with his head towards the rock. When I look at it I feel like throwing up and immediately divert my eyes. The point of the rock was covered with blood, and the side was full of blood splashes. I had already seen the huge wound on his face, and I didn't care to look at it again. I can also see where an orc had smashed him with his sword; across his chest was a bloody red line. I feel his pulse, and for a moment my world seems to stop; but then I feel the beating of his heart against my finger tips, and I allow myself to let out a relieved sigh. He's still alive, but for how long?

A group of dwarves, with Óin amongst them, pick up Thorin and carry him to his house.

'Lady Dís, if-' Dwalin starts but I immediately interrupt him.

'Yes, please go and help them. I follow.' I say and with a nod Dwalin runs after the others. I can't bear to look around and close my arms around me, slowly following the others to Thorin's house. What if he died? I would be all alone, and he certainly didn't deserve to die. He was so tired from all that work, what if he didn't have enough strength to fight against those wounds? It was especially the head wound I'm worried about. He couldn't die, he couldn't go away like Frerin did! I try to not let the tears run down my cheek, but when you're brother is dying that is very hard. I breathe deep in and out to get less dizzy, but it doesn't help really. All I can think about is that he will die and that I can never see him again.

When I walk into his house, he had just been placed on his bed, Óin immediately starting with his work. I know he's very good at all this, but even the best medicine dwarf couldn't help everyone when they were to close to dead already. I desperately wanted to ask some question to the dwarves who were in the room taking care of my brother, their king, but they were to busy. I decide that helping is more useful than pondering or moaning, and do whatever I can to help saving my brother. I run to the kitchen to fetch some water for cleaning the wound and finding extra bandages for Óin.
I carefully push his blood-stained hair out of the way and lay the cold watery cloth around the wound, cleaning the wound as much as I can to give Óin a better sight so he could disinfect it. With trembling hand who were now also slightly covered with blood, I remember what Thorin once told me when I was sting with an orc blade. They were almost always infected, so it didn't have to be a big wound to die; a scratch was enough to let it poison you. Still trying not to cry, I leave the head wound to Óin for disinfecting and start working where he was smashed with a sword on the chest so that Óin immediately could continue. The other dwarves luckily do the best they can as well with already doing other things or simply handing things over to Óin. 'I'm going to make stitches.' He mumbles without looking up from his work. I nod, press my lips together to not ask a million questions, or just if he will make it, and say: 'I'll wait outside. Thank you, Óin.' I say and leave the room. I don't need to see that.
Because the kitchen seemed to far away, although it's not more than a couple of steps, I sit down on the floor right next to the door. If there's something, I can immediately open the door and be there. I press my arms over my legs and lay my chin on my knees. I don't feel hungry anymore. I left the meal for him at the forge, but I wonder if he will ever wake again. I blink with tired eyes, hoping to hear news from my brother as soon as possible. But the first news that came was late in the middle of the night, after I had been sitting on the floor for hours, trying not to fall asleep. How could I fall asleep if my brother was dying in the room next to me? My sleep will without a doubt be also invested with nightmares about dead bleeding dwarves, Frerin, and Thorin who might follow him now. I don't even want to sleep.

My heart jumps when the door opens and all the dwarves, except for Óin, come out their king's room. 'And? Has he already woken yet?' I ask, knowing the answer. If that had happened they would have immediately called for me, and they wouldn't look so sad.

'I'm sorry, Dís. He stayed the same for the rest of the evening.' Dwalin says.

I give a deep sigh, and lay my head in my neck and stare against the ceiling.

'Thank you Dwalin. You can go if you want to, the others as well.' I hear them all mumbling something, but I don't listen to them and my gaze stays fixed on the ceiling. I hear them all leave, except for Dwalin. I would've been surprised if he left, to be honest.

'Are you okay?' I ask. 'Any wounds? I know Óin is busy with my brother, but I can also do some little things.'

'I'm okay, thank you. But if you wouldn't mind, I would like to stay here to see if Thorin is okay.' He says.

I lower my head and look at him, trying not to yawn. 'That's alright, Dwalin. Would you maybe like something to eat, or drink?' I ask.

'No, thank you. I'll take something to drink myself.' He says, leaving the hallway and walks to the kitchen. 'Do you need anything, Dís?' he asks before he opens the door.

I yawn again, and lay down on the floor, my hand underneath my head. 'My brother.' I answer, knowing that he couldn't do anything about that; but it is what I want and all that I need right now.

Later that night, or shall I say, very early in the morning, I feel a hand on my shoulder waking me up. 'Dís, wake up. I want to speak to you.' A soft voice says. I blink my eyes and look into the brown eyes of Óin. 'Of course.' I quickly stand up, rub my eyes and walk with him to the living room; Dwalin's already sitting there, and I'm surprised to see the anxious look in his eyes. I know it's stupid that is surprises me; he's a dwarf like me and can feel scared too, yet somehow Dwalin never seemed scared. Or had he already been told something that I don't know yet?

My heart feels like a cold, frozen hand pinches it so hard that it might break into a million shattered pieces; what certainly will happen if they tell me Thorin's not going to make it. Maybe he's already dead, and that's why Óin wants to talk to me and Dwalin is looking so anxious. I seat myself next to him, with slightly trembling hand which I hide between my legs.

'What is it you want to tell us, Óin?' I ask, Dwalin's look reflected in my voice. I possibly couldn't keep it steady, and my heart never had never beaten so fast.

After the dwarf sat down, he looks at us and speaks. 'As you might have guessed already, Thorin has serious brain damage, and he is lucky not to have broken anything; the cut in his chest is not very deep, but I'm afraid it could've been infected. He's still unconscious, but I don't think for long anymore. When he will wake, he will be in terrible pain. You must give him this – he handed over some medicines – to ease his pain. With the slightest thing, please come to me. When he wakes up, let me check him again. Make sure he has new bandages every two hours, and wake him up than.' He stops for a moment and sighs, looking regretful.

'I'm not sure if he's going to make it.' He finally says.

'But he is from the line of Durin, he is one of the strongest dwarves! He must make it, Óin.' I say, knowing Frerin was just as much from the line of Durin as Thorin is.

'He's strong indeed, Dís. And he's fighting for his life right now, you must now that. But about some things, no one can do anything. This is one of those cases, sadly. At the moment, nothing more can be done.' He answers me.

'But I must do something, I can't just sit here and let him fight for his life without any help. I will help him, Óin. Can he hear me if I talk to him?'

He shrugs. 'We don't know that. Some say they can, but I'm not sure.'

I sigh deeply and close my eyes for a few seconds.

'How did it happen?' Óin asks. Something I wanted to know for a very long time now already. I look at Dwalin, waiting for the explanation.

'We were working at the forge as usual. Suddenly we heard orc battle cries in the distance, we dropped our weapons and took all of the best weapons we had. They had already killed some dwarves who lived at the edge of the mountains; without us they all would've died. We attacked them, and they seemed furious. I hear Thorin asking why they were attacking us again, so shortly from the previous attack and why they seemed to be extra furious, calling names of other orcs. They answered that they were revenging other orcs of their group, and that they found them bound to trees with smashed open bodies. That's all we know. We started to fight and they fought back, of course. Well, you know the end.' Dwalin ends his story, but I wasn't listening anymore.

I started trembling and I keep feeling a lot of shivers down my spine. Revenging other orcs of their group, and that they found them bound to trees with smashed open bodies, he said. I knew exactly what orcs he was talking about. It were the orcs I had smashed open, bound them to trees, and killed them in the first place. It was me. I jump from my seat, causing Dwalin and Óin to look at me in surprise.

I remember all the blood, the chopped of body parts, my dying brother…

This was my fault.

'This is my fault!' I cry, wishing there was a knife I had so I could immediately kill myself.