I have a very important Author's Note to share with you, but I will wait till the end.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In Which, Balin's Tale Continues
Cate blinked.
"Y-you?" Bilbo asked in quiet astonishment, his eyes wide. "You were the Dwarf who escaped?"
"Aye, lad." Balin agreed softly, resting withered hands upon tired knees and exhaling a slow breath. "I am."
She found herself staring at the elder in shock, unable to process this new, unexpected, revelation and rubbed at her brow with uninjured hand. She watched, with a heavy heart, as the elder's broad frame appeared to shrink. His gazed into the fire, his face as haggard and aged. Whatever he sought within the dancing flames did not appear to bring him answers nor relief. Her eyes trailed to Dwalin, hoping perhaps, he would be able to convey some sort of aid. However, much to her surprise, the burly Dwarf did neither.
Rather, he sat, in his usual stoic silence, making no move to offer neither comfort nor support. Instead, he remained still.
It was then, she realized, no amount of words could help Balin. The pain was an old one, as Thrór had died a long time ago, and, if he had been so young, then the memory would haunt him. As such, simple silence and quiet understanding was what he needed. Not clumsy words of pity. Especially not from her.
"Come now, lads."
In unison, Fíli and Kíli raised their heads. Startlingly, both wore matching grim expressions and their eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
"No need for such gloomy looks," Balin encouraged. "We all bare painful memories. I just have a few more than most."
The old Dwarf's eyes spoke the truth.
Cate knew those eyes. How many times had she seen them in her patrons? Visits to the bar were almost expected of those with that same haunted expression. They would crowd the bar, at all hours, and drink until their sorrows no longer pained them. Then, she would call a cab (she knew all their addresses by heart at this point) and have them taken home. She'd even pick up the tab if need be.
War left a mark on people. She had seen it in others enough to recognize it.
"Thorin," Fíli started, his usually bright eyes dimmed with growing sadness. "He never told us. Not fully, anyway."
Kíli nodded solemnly in agreement and fiddled uneasily with his still smoking pipe. He kicked out at a stray stone, sending forth a cloud of dirt and dust. The object of his wrath skittered across the rocky ground and disappeared over the ledge. However, the action appeared to bring little relief, for his grim expression remained unchanged.
Cate felt extremely ill placed. As if she was eavesdropping on something that was clearly none of her business.
"I appreciate your concern, truly, I do." The elder continued. "However, you must know and understand your history. All of it, no matter how cruel. If I were to coddle you now, it would serve you no purpose in the future. Ignorance is breed from those refusing to learn of the past and the mistakes made by their forefathers. Fíli, you especially," Balin aimed a hard look at the blond prince. "Cannot afford this. Thorin has named you his Heir Apparent. Therefore, this is your responsibility. To learn."
At first, neither prince said a word. They turned to one another and shared a look of unease, but it was the kind only their eyes could convey. Fíli clenched his hands tightly and Cate could see the muscles of his jaw copy the action. His eyes hardened, taking on a serious and unreadable countenance.
"Yes Master Balin," replied Fíli with a sharp nod of his braided head. "I understand."
"Good." Balin's expression melted from stern and authoritative, to his usual kindness. "In any case, lads, it appears we've become distracted. As much as my own tale does play a part in history, now is not the time for it. I was discussing Thorin and the reasons behind his current behavior."
The old Dwarf straightened himself and expelled a rather long breath.
It was as if that one breath made all the difference.
The air about the camp shifted and the heavy atmosphere dissipated. Cate drew in a deep breath of her own, allowing the tension to leave her shoulders. Beside her, Bilbo shot her a quick look of concern. She simply offered him a quick smile and a small shake of the head.
"Now," Balin ran a withered hand over his face, as if to scrub away the previous conversation. "After word was delivered to Thráin II of Thrór's death, and the death of the rest of the small company, he sent messengers to the north, east, and west, spreading the news like dragon-fire. Word eventually reached the Ered Luin and the Iron Hills, where Grór, Thrór's youngest brother, ruled as King. Soon the Father's of the other Houses followed, for this dishonor upon the eldest of our race filled them with a wrath none in Middle-earth had ever known. Yet, three years it took for our forces to rally and become strong enough to advance upon Moria's gates."
Cate leaned forward, folding her arms tighter around her and, beside her, Bilbo watched wide-eyed in total fascination. Never before had she heard a tale told as Balin told it. Even her own grandfather, who was a master storyteller in his own right, couldn't weave together his war stories as well as the elder.
"Once all was prepared, we set our course for the Misty Mountains. Among our forces, was Frerin, Thorin's younger brother, and Fundin, a Dwarf lord in his own right." In that moment, Balin's already grim expression took an even grimmer turn. However, the elder shook his head, as if to clear away a memory, and continued. "And so one by one, we sacked each and every one of the Orcs strongholds. And one by one they fell, to hammer and sword alike."
"They fled like cowards," spat Dwalin. His eyes were dark with anger and, when he spoke next, it was with a smirk. "Remember the wage, Brother?"
"Oh, yes." A similar expression spread across the elder's face. "If I recall correctly, I won that particular bet."
"Did not." Dwalin scoffed. "I did. Ye forgot the pack tha' nearly laid siege ta the outer encampment."
"Really," Balin drawled, crossing his arms. "No, I counted that one. You forgot the four that nearly took off your head the day before we reached Moria. Two of them latched themselves upon your back and you couldn't throw them off. If I had not been standing on the ledge above you -"
"What ledge?!" Dwalin argued, turning fully to face his brother. "It was a cliff! And ye were nowhere near me! Thorin had to -"
"No, that was the week before." Balin interrupted with a wave of his hand.
Dwalin huffed and shoved the elder's shoulder, nearly upsetting his balance altogether. "You're becoming more and more senile by the day, Brother."
"Senile!" Balin caught himself from falling off the log. In retaliation, he delivered a jab to his brother's open ribcage. "Mahal as my witness, you are not much younger!"
For several long moments, the two gazed at each other with dual, unmoving expressions. Then, all at once, they broke into roaring laughter and clutched at each other's shoulders for stability. Fíli and Kíli also erupted into chortles and Bilbo, finding that amusement would not result in chastisement, joined them. Cate chuckled too. The look on the two older Dwarves' faces was too much to pass up.
"Ah, it is good to know even the darkest memories house happy ones, "said Balin, wiping a stray happy tear of mirth. "And yet, once again, we must look back on blacker thoughts."
At once, the small group sobered.
Cate wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear the end of Balin's story. While she was curious to hear the elder's perspective of it (which would probably be far more accurate than anything she had ever read, for even Tolkien himself had bee vague on some things), she also knew how it ended. Hearing it from Balin, someone who had actually lived through it, felt daunting. Still, she had come this far and to leave without hearing the end would be disrespectful.
So again, she gave the elder her full and undivided attention.
"When at last, Moria was all that was left, we converged as one upon the valley." Balin started, withered face considerably paler. "It was dark day in winter, for there was no sun and our enemies possessed far greater numbers and the higher ground. Nonetheless, when we saw the gates of our ancient home, we took up a great cry and laid siege to Moria. However, our foes had spread themselves among the slopes and once we began the attack, they met us halfway." He paused and shook his head. "Perhaps if it had only been those upon the slopes, we could have had an early victory. This was not so, for the gates that had once been barred suddenly were flung open and a great multitude of the enemy came down upon us as a hammer falls upon the anvil. Azog had held these numbers back for the last need and sought to overwhelm us with sheer numbers."
For a brief moment, the foul creature's plan succeeded and we faltered. However, Thráin, who led the first assault of the vanguard, took courage and charged into the fray, his sons flanking him on either side." A small smile graced the elder's lips as he turned to the princes. "That lads, was the first time I saw your uncle. I had never met him personally and had only seen him at a great distance on one other occasion." The smile faltered and fell. "However, Thráin's vanguard failed and was driven back into a wood of great trees not far from the gates. It was there Dwalin and I became wedged between the treeline and one of the valley's slopes."
If it was possible, the elder seemed even more older. "Here we became separated from the main branch. Cut off from Thráin and Fundin, our father."
Balin and Dwalin shared a pained look and Cate had to look away. She couldn't imagine being in a battle, not that she could fight in the first place. The sheer possibility of losing someone she cared about sent shivers of ice down her spine. Even worse, someone dying in a place she couldn't reach.
"Yet, we fought on." Balin pressed further, though she could see it was becoming more difficult to do so. "With great difficulty, we managed to regroup within the wood. But, we came far too late. Frerin, Thorin's younger brother, fell defending Fundin, who had taken a mortal wound to the chest. Thorin stood not far off, yet he turned just as an Orc came upon his brother and strike him just under the arm, where our armor is the most weakest. Frerin fell and Thorin became enraged. His shield had be cloven and thus, rendered useless, so he took his axe and hewed off a thick branch of oak from one of the great trees. Using this branch, Thorin warded off the blows of his foes and managed to fell the creature who slew Frerin. It was an unsatisfying victory."
Our father managed to cling to life long enough to bestow upon Thorin, his sword." The elder's face was now wet with tears. "'A sorry and pitiful payment' he called it, 'for one so young should not have fallen defending the life of an old dwarrow such as I.' And with those words, Lord Fundin breathed his last and went to the halls of waiting to sit beside his fathers. Thráin and Thorin tore off what was left of their cloaks and covered him well, then turned to the remainder of our forces and rallied them with words I can no longer recall. Perhaps the grief we shared," Balin casted a quick glance at Dwalin. "Was too great to discern anything at that current moment. It would not surprise me if that was indeed so."
And so again, we laid siege upon the gates. Our hearts asunder and our anger fresh and renewed. Until, at last, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills turned the day. Coming in late, though far fresher than any of our number, where the mailed warriors of Náin, son of Grór, and Dain II Ironfoot, Grór's grandson (and nay but a stripling of thirty-two years to boot!). Behind them, a legion of Dwarves clad in armor and well supplied with axes, swords, and mattocks alike. They cut through the enemy and then, there stood Náin before the gates, his mattock raised in rage and cried out in a terrible voice: 'Azog! If you are in there, come out! Or is the play in the valley to rough?!'"
Of course, the pale Orc did not take kindly to the insult. He came forth, agile and strong, a club of iron clasped in his right hand and upon his head, a helm of beaten iron. However, he did not come alone. A small guard of Orcs appeared behind him and engaged Náin's company, leaving the giant Gundabad Orc to deal with Náin. He rushed at the Dwarf and so they clashed however, whereas Azog was fresh and full of guile, Náin was not so. He was half blind with rage and weary from travel and this lead to his own downfall. With what strength remained in him, he threw out his mattock for a crippling blow yet, Azog dodged the attack and struck out for Náin's leg. The blow connected and Náin stumbled forward, the shaft of his mattock shattering into splinters."
Balin sighed. It was a sad sound.
"Azog took advantage of Náin's weakness and thus severed his head from his shoulders. He laughed as he raised up Nain's head, thrusting it out for all to see. Yet, his laughter died in his throat. For his own forces were being demolished before his very eyes. And leading our forces, were Thráin and Thorin, their blades held high and their shouts bold. Our forces surged as one upon the gate and, at seeing his defeat, Azog turned and fled for the safety of our ancient halls. He did not get far. For two Dwarves converged upon him, one bearing an axe as red as blood and the other a shield of oak. Up the steps they leaped and right before the entrance they caught him, driving him with blows so hard, the valley rang. It was then, Dáin managed to hew off one of Azog's pale arms and Thorin delivered a blow to his side, plunging his sword deep between his ribs. The wound was so fierce, it was like a river of blackness had been unleashed. And so, Azog fell before the gate and what was left of his army retreated to the south."
The white-haired Dwarf took a deep breath, large hands smoothing out the material of his red coat.
"But no feast or song was taken up that night, for the dead were far too numerous and our hearts ached with such agony that it could not be counted. Barely half our number could still stand or even have a hope of healing. Thráin himself had lost an eye and his leg was wounded severely. Thorin escaped the battle with minor injuries but it was his heart which refused to cease bleeding. Frerin's loss was crippling. So much so, he would not allow anyone to assist him in building his brother's funeral pyre, choosing rather to complete the task himself. Thráin allowed him this, for he had raised them both and understood their brotherhood had been one far stronger than any stone."
Here Balin paused and turned to his brother, who then slung an arm about the elder. The burly Dwarf's expression remained unreadable yet Cate could see pain and an deep anger within his eyes. In turn, her own blurred and she had to blink back the tears so they would not fall. She couldn't fathom this. Any of this. The pain Thorin must have felt, must still be feeling! And poor Balin and Dwalin too! Dear God in heaven!
She turned and scanned the darkness, searching for the familiar figure. Thorin had not moved from his position at the cliff's precipice, still staring out into the blackness of the night. What these Dwarves had lived through, it was enough to break anyone. It would have most certainly broke her. She wasn't a very emotionally strong person so it amazed her they were able to be so . . . normal. Whether this was truly so or not, she didn't know. But then, Dwarves were different.
As Cate looked at him, she felt her feelings towards the Dwarf king change. A little. He still had made wrong choices but, the motives behind those choices were clearer now. Back at Bag End, Thorin had only been protecting the company. He didn't know her. How could he? For all he knew, she might have been an enemy or a spy. A threat. So, he acted and treated her as such because he feared what she would do.
However Thorin may not like or want her around, he was not a cruel person. He had been concerned about their safety, even hers. Perhaps, he had been right. They had been careless. But she had caused a fuss when he had every right to be angry. Maybe he didn't have to shout but now she understood why. Thorin had lost enough people in his life. People he was close to and loved. Even though he didn't show it, he cared. Even about Bilbo, though he often insisted that he didn't.
She had to make this right. Somehow, someway, she had to make things right with Thorin Oakenshield again.
In case any of my reader's were wondering, the rest of the tale Balin tells is canon. With the exception of Thorin aiding his cousin in killing Azog. A feat which Dáin II Ironfoot accomplished alone. Frerin, Thorin's younger brother, was killed in the battle but Tolkien does not explain the manner of his death. So, I had him die defending Fundin who was dealt a mortal blow. I thought it would be a more meaningful death for him.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! SO PLEASE READ!
My research has revealed an interesting development. According to Tolkien, a Dwarf of 30 years is considered a young stripling. In other words, a Dwarf who hasn't quiet yet reached the age of adulthood. Something of an older teen in human terms, I believe. Based on this, I find 40 would be close to being 'of age' for a Dwarf. If so, then Balin (in my story) would be around 40 years old at the time of Thrór's death.
Balin, according to Tolkien, was born in T.A. 2763, and Dwalin in T.A. 2772 (two years after Smaug took Erebor). This means there is nine year diffidence between the two brothers. So, in order to keep this nine year difference and still remain true to Tolkien, I placed Dwalin at 31 years old when Thrór was killed (according to my timeline).
What about Thorin? Originally, I wanted to make Thorin the eldest (like in the book), but since I went with P.J.'s version of Balin (who is older), I realized this would confuse many of my readers. Thorin was born in T.A. 2746, in the Tolkien timeline, thus making him 24 when Smaug attacked. Thorin was the only one of the Company old enough to engage in many of the historic events that occurred in the Dwarven history. The rest weren't able because, either they were still well under age (such as Balin) or (in Dwalin's case) they had been born a few years prior.
Obviously, judging by the last two chapters, I changed a few things. For the sake of saving the timeline (both Tolkien's and mine) let us place Thorin at the age of 35 during Balin's story (this only cuts Thorin's age by nine years). This keeps Thorin as the second eldest and doesn't conflict with Tolkien's timeline too too much. I wish to remind you I'm trying to follow Tolkien as closely as I can while also adding elements of the movies. Ratio: 70% Tolkien, 30% Peter Jackson.
Now, seeing as I probably confused more than half of my poor readers, I constructed both timelines to help you follow along.
My Timeline of Dwarven History:
T.A. 2750: Balin, first son of Fundin, is born.
T.A. 2755: Thorin Oakenshield, first born and first son of Thráin II, son of Thrór, is born.
T.A. 2759: Dwalin, second son of Fundin, is born.
T.A. 2760: Frerin, second son of Thráin II, is born.
T.A. 2767: Dáin II Ironfoot, son of Náin, son of Grór, is born. Second cousin to Thorin II Oakenshield.
T.A. 2769: Dís, third child and only daughter of Thrain II, is born.
T.A. 2770: Smaug attacks Erebor and destroys Dale. (Balin age 20; Thorin age 15; Dwalin age 11; Frerin age 10; Dáin II Ironfoot age 3; Dís age 1)
T.A. 2790: Thrór and his party travel to Moria and are slain by Azog and his scouts; Balin is the lone survivor and the Dwarves gather for vengeance. (Balin age 40; Thorin age 35; Dwalin age 31; Frerin age 30; Dáin II Ironfoot age 23; Dís age 21)
T.A. 2793: The War of the Dwarves and Orcs begins. (Balin age 43; Thorin age 38; Dwalin age 34; Frerin age 33; Dáin II Ironfoot age 26; Dís age 24)
T.A. 2799: The Battle of Azanulbizar, the final battle in the War of the Dwarves and Orcs, is fought. Frerin, Fundin, and Nain are killed. Thrain loses an eye. Thorin gains the name Oakenshield. (Balin age 49; Thorin age 44; Dwalin age 40; Frerin age 39; Dáin II Ironfoot age 32; Dís age 30)
T.A. 2841: Thráin II sets out to revisit Erebor and takes Balin and Dwalin with him. He is pursued by the servants of Sauron. (Balin age 91; Thorin age 86; Dwalin age 82; Dáin II Ironfoot age 72; Dís age 70)
T.A. 2845: Thráin II is imprisoned in Dol Guldur. The last of the Seven Dwarf Rings is taken. Balin and Dwalin travel back to Thorin. (Balin age 95; Thorin age 90; Dwalin age 86; Dáin II Ironfoot age 76; Dís age 74)
T.A. 2859: Fíli, first born and first son of Dís, is born. (Balin age 109; Thorin age 104; Dwalin age 100; Dáin II Ironfoot age 90; Dís age 88)
T.A. 2864: Kíli, second son of Dís, is born. (Balin age 114; Thorin age 109; Dwalin age 105; Dáin II Ironfoot age 95; Dís age 93; Fíli age 5)
. . .
Tolkien's Timeline of Dwarven History:
T.A 2746: Thorin II Oakenshield, first born and first son of Thráin II, son of Thrór, is born.
T.A. 2751: Frerin, second son of Thráin II, is born.
T.A. 2760: Dís, third child and only daughter of Thráin II, is born.
T.A. 2763: Balin, first born and first son of Fundin, is born.
T.A. 2767: Dáin II Ironfoot, son of Náin, son of Grór, is born. Second cousin to Thorin II Oakenshield.
T.A. 2770: Smaug attacks Erebor and destroys Dale. (Thorin age 24; Frerin age 19; Dís age 10; Balin age 8; Dáin II Ironfoot age 3; Dwalin not yet born.)
T.A. 2772: Dwalin, second son of Fundin is born.
T.A. 2790: Thrór slain by Azog in Moria and the Dwarves gather for vengeance.
T.A. 2793: The War of the Dwarves and Orcs begins.
T.A. 2799: The Battle of Azanulbizar, the final battle in the War of the Dwarves and Orcs, is fought. Frerin, Fundin,and Náin are slain. Thráin II loses an eye. Thorin II earns the name 'Oakenshield'.
T.A. 2841: Thráin II sets out to revisit Erebor and takes Balin and Dwalin with him. He is pursued by the servants of Sauron.
T.A. 2845: Thráin II is imprisoned in Dol Guldur. The last of the Seven Dwarf Rings is taken from him. Balin and Dwalin travel back to Thorin.
T.A. 2859: Fíli, first born and first son of Dís, is born.
T.A. 2864: Kíli, second son of Dís, is born.
I wish to apologize for the long Author's Note but I did not want anyone to get confused or lost. I understand that this is hard to follow. I wanted to follow Tolkien's timeline by the book, but since I wanted to combine elements from both the book and the films, I had to compensate ages for the sake of the story.
However, I did not want to throw an age at you and say 'here you go'. I wanted to give you an actual date and the mathematical reasoning behind why I chose it. If you noticed, it wasn't just Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin's ages I changed. I also had to reconfigure Dis and Frerin too, that way, the yearly difference between the three siblings still remained the same.
If anyone is still confused or has any major concerns, please send me a PM. I will be more than willing to help you understand both Tolkien's timeline and my own.