Kili was carried to Dáin's family home and placed on a bed in a room that housed several beds. Thorin usually slept in the room with Balin, when their travels took them to the far east.
A healer promptly arrived with a bag of supplies. "Word reached me that ah Durin was injured. I assumed it was Dáin."
Kili grunted in pain, "No, a lesser Durin."
Fili slipped in and stayed out of the way, but Kili spotted him.
"Where's Tauriel? She heals better than any healer the dwarves can muster."
"I'll talk after you're properly bandaged and medicated." Fili sat on a bed. As the healer worked, he looked around the room. Thick furs graced the stone floor and the beds were layered with thick blankets and furs of high quality. A wash basin was at one end and large mirror. Dressers were spotted here and there and each bed had its own nightstand and lamp. Now, all the lamps were turned on, giving a warm golden glow to what was a chilly room.
The healer gathered his bag off a chair and straightened. "Give yer shoulder two weeks before riding, an ah month before fighting."
He left and Fili quickly slid onto the chair, leaning forward and linking his fingers, thumbs pressing into each other. His eyes never left his brother. "Elladan and Elrohir came. They found Tauriel."
Kili's eyes widened and he fought the drug coursing through his system the healer provided to make him sleep. "Is she injured?"
Fili shook his head, sad at the news he had to give. "She left, Kili. They tracked her to the east where she met up with Easterlings and they rode off together. There's a lot we don't know about her. Maybe she was involved with them and Thranduil found out and ran her off. You know elves. They talk in riddles when a yes or no would suffice."
"I won't believe it until she tells me she doesn't want me," Kili replied as weariness caused his eyes to close.
Fili watched his brother's bare chest rise and fall in rhythm of a sleeping dwarf. A hand on his shoulder caused him to look up into Dwalin's sympathetic eyes.
"A servant will sit with him. Ye need ta clean up an eat."
As he rose, he spoke quietly, "For the first time, I regret leaving the safety of Ered Luin."
Dwalin smiled slightly and laid an arm across his shoulders as he led his cousin away. "That's the most mature statement you've ever made. Shows life is starting ta knock some sense into yer thick Durin skull."
"Does maturity always come at such a high price?"
"Yep," Dwalin quipped as they passed the servant, an old dwarf, who nodded in greeting.
Kili didn't protest as he was helped onto the wagon seat, eyes staring blindly ahead. Normally he would have pitched a fit and been threatened half a dozen times by Dwalin and Dáin. He refused to answer questions or talk, even to Fili and that had his brother worried. It was eight days from the day they arrived in the Iron Hills to them pulling out again. This time, many wagons, pulling personal items and families started rolling towards Erebor. It was raining and just a couple degrees above freezing, causing Fili to shiver and pull his fur cape closer to his throat. He was riding the ram and leading four ewes by halter.
Dáin led his people. A few times he circled back and checked to see how his mother and wife were faring in the lead wagon with Kili. He trotted his boar by them and down the line of wagons lumbering along, wheels creaking with loads too heavy, pulled by rams and boars. Several wagons were loaded with poultry and fresh food and would return for more supplies. His army, which was being turned over to Glóin for the return trip, was guarding the caravan. Dáin knew they were vulnerable and had too many dwarrowdams and young to protect should they be attacked. He reckoned Thrór and Thráin had it much worse and thought back to that day.
He was working with the smithies, learning how to shoe animals and repair and make anything that required metal. He knew the Iron Hills provided the finest Iron ore in all Middle Earth and as a youngster approaching adulthood, he was sitting in meetings regularly with his father, and now paying attention.
A page ran into the forges and looked frantically around until he was spotted, dripping in sweat and swinging a large, heavy mallet against a bar of molten iron. He was tasked this day to make a Warhammer from scratch. He took the ore laden rocks, melted ore from their seams and broke them to recover every ounce of precious material. He used a pre-measured block of steel to pour the amount of metal he needed. Now he was forming the large head. Shouting got his attention and he saw the page screaming at him. Letting his half-finished project drop onto the edge of the furnace, he dodged swinging mallets to his target.
"What do ye need?" He wanted to finish before sundown and any interruption meant added time to a long day.
"Master Dáin, ah raven came from Erebor. Ah dragon has attacked."
Dáin forgot his assigned project and ran behind the page, through the halls and up flights of stairs. He didn't halt, until panting stood at his father's side. Náin had tears in his eyes and was on the rampart looking west. Dáin looked also and saw smoke rising from the south side of the mountain that stood alone on the northern plains east of the Misty Mountains.
Náin looked at his son. "Ah raven was sent from Erebor by Thorin. This morning, Smaug, the firedrake came and took the mountain."
"What else?" Young Dáin asked.
"Nothing son, no word. Father sent our ravens and they reported thousands of dwarves are outside the mountain."
"What are you and grandfather going to do?"
"I'll lead our army with supplies, but we can't take in that many without starving ourselves. I'll go and do what I can. You stay and assume the role of leader."
Dáin was stunned, "Isn't Grandfather staying?"
Náin shook his head, "Nay, he will ride with me. We need to know if any other Durin's survived."
For the first time, the following morning, Dáin donned the robes of Lord of the Iron Hills. He stood before his mother and grandmother's as they fussed with his diadem and folds of the garments.
"It's not like anyone will take me seriously," he complained.
"You are heir to the title and a Durin. You must look the part," his mother admonished. He looked to his grandmother's and they were nodding. His last glance went to his other grandfather, Lord Nephtin. The old dwarf puffed on his pipe, content to let the dwarrowdams do their job.
He strode through the halls and chambers, hoping he wouldn't be laughed at. He was a dwarfling of only fifty-three and in the middle of his education. He was a child by all standards, playing at a title he hadn't earned. The lords looked upon him with amusement, but said nothing. For Grandfather Nephtin was one step behind.
The week passed quietly and Dáin was on the rampart with his remaining grandfather when they appeared in the distance. He watched as the numbers kept growing. An hour from the gate, he had an idea of how many were descending on them. He gave his first order as Lord in waiting. "We have about three thousand refugees coming here," he called from the platform overlooking the main chamber, where all gathered when the Lord had an announcement. He saw expectant faces, waiting for further instructions and thought fast. What would his grandfather or father say? "Some may need medical attention, so make ready our healing halls. Clear barren halls for additional homes. In the meantime, our guests will be invited into our homes. My family has room for five refugee families." Dáin looked at the lords who were flanking him. "Make the homes ready. I want every family ta open their doors an the refugees ta be cared for." He remembered looking back to the growing crowd. "If the Iron Hills were the one's attacked an we displaced, I would ask ye, how would ye wished ta be treated?" He saw his words strike home. "Make ready." With that last command, he turned to the lords.
"Ah Durin Lord in the making is ah sight ta behold," an old dwarf lord commented.
The older lords chuckled and agreed.
He was standing proudly in front of the gates when the refugees arrived led by Grór and Náin. His father threw him a wink and smile before dismounting. He greeted Aneht with a hug and kiss. "We brought the worst injured here." Náin saw his mother and in-laws awaiting news. "Erebor fell ta ah dragon. Thrór, Thráin an his kids are all the Durin's who made it out alive of the linage. Some lesser Durin's also survived, like Balin and Dwalin and ah few others." He grew sad. "We lost most of the older dwarrowdams."
Dáin saw his mother cover her face with a handkerchief and sob, as did the older dwarrowdams who knew those formable ladies.
Life went on in the Iron Hills and word came slowly of those who went elsewhere. After an absence of seven years, King Thrór and his companion, Nár, appeared out of the night, banging on the doors until a guard opened for them. They were escorted to Lord Grór's chambers and all the Durin's woke and gathered around, desperate for news.
With a cup of ale, King Thrór started telling his story. "We are in Dunland for the time. There is a mine the men couldn't make ah go of, so we took it over. We are not ah burden on the Blue Mountains, but that is all I can say for us. I put my family in the worst circumstances. They understand, as Durin's, we have ta suffer the most. Thráin is doing most of the mining an raising his kids alone."
"Did no dwarrowdam's of your house survive?" Anida, Aneht's mother, asked, although word was none had. She always hoped the tale bearers were wrong.
Thrór sadly shook his head. "Very few of the lasses from the clan made it out. All the dwarrows escaped, an Dis was with Frerin. Thorin dragged me from the mountain; an I admit ta fighting him all the way. I saw Thráin head back into the mountain for them and Nár here," he pointed to his silent friend, "fell him with his Warhammer on the first strike. Knowing Thráin, Nár wouldn't have had another chance. When Thráin recovered his loss of his mate, he took charge. Every Durin longs ta see the day their son matures into a leader, an I saw that and my pride overflows. In fact, he is in charge of our realm while I returned ta visit the east. The mountain ever draws me. Half my family is waiting for us to retrieve them for ah proper burial."
Dáin felt someone riding beside him and looked over.
"I was wondering if you were ah needing me ta hold you on yer boar," Dwalin teased from atop his ram. "Where did ye go?"
"I went back ta when Smaug came," he simply stated. With Dwalin he need not lie. "I was just recalling Thrór's first visit back ta these parts."
"Aye, I remember those early days. Never enough food for growing dwarflings. I wasn't very old an Father trained me to be ah warrior an nothing else," Dwalin admitted. They reminisced side by side at the head of the long column while in the wagon behind them, a similar tale unfolded.
Forty year old Aneh was curious of this sullen cousin, who sat for the last hour staring at the backs of the rams pulling their wagon. She was getting bored with looking at the same dreary landscape and saw the elder dwarrowdam's trying to nap. She edged to stand just behind the driver, their father's trusted warrior, Dirjin, son of Hirjin, and from an old linage of warriors who served Durin's. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she looked at Kili, who was ignoring her.
"We haven't met formally," she finally spoke to him. Not receiving an answer, she continued, "Your brother, Fili is nice, and cute." She hoped that would at least provoke a laugh, but he seemed miles away in his mind. "He told me you got injured and lost a girlfriend. You are too young for marrying. What was she like? Nobody will tell me anything and I'm well past the age for secrets."
Kili looked over his shoulder at her. "Normally when ignored, one takes the hint and shuts up."
"Durin or not, if ye disrespect my little lass here, I'll knock yer carcass off this wagon," Dirjin snapped at him.
"I don't want to be up here anyway," Kili snapped right back. He looked at the ground and made his decision. He stood, placed a foot on the edge and jumped. He heard, "Whoa," from the driver as the ground jarred his shoulder, eliciting a curse.
"What are ye doing out of the wagon?"
Kili looked up into the snout of a boar, whose tusks were nothing he wanted to experience, and Dáin was staring down at him.
"I'm well enough to ride with Fili. A Durin doesn't ride in wagons unless old or young."
"Or injured." Dáin smiled and it wasn't with joy. "When Thorin recovers from his own wounds, I'm going ta beat the stuffin out of him for raising ah momma's boy. You've stopped the wheels from turning an making us look like fools." As he spoke, he nudged the boar around Kili. When he was even, he tapped him with his Warhammer, sending the lad into oblivion. With a sigh, he turned to Dwalin. "Moonin over ah dwarrowlass is tolerated at his tender age, but an elf?"
Dwalin just shook his head as he got off the ram and hoisted Kili over his shoulder. Walking to the rear of the wagon, he tossed him in, none too gently. With the wagon train moving again and he back beside Dáin, he commented, "Thorin left much of the boys raising to Dis. He was gone much of the time; either working or ruling. I tried to fill in and made them into some of the finest warriors you'll ever see in your lifetime. They haven't been around many other warriors or Durin's ta learn how to act properly. Thráin will take softness in them out on Thorin."
"What about ye and Balin?" Dáin asked as he scanned the horizon for anything moving.
"Balin taught them their letters, like he did me. None of us has much use for books, although Dis used to read to them at night. She somehow got dwarfling books from the Blue Mountains. There was so much we needed, but she insisted they know more than what ah handful of beaten down warriors and miners could teach. I couldn't argue as she didn't have much herself in the way of tutoring from dwarrowdams. Meeli took Dis under her wing, to Thráin's relief. Thráin did bring Dwili back from the Iron Hills when Dis was old enough to wed."
Dáin chuckled at the memory. "When his pretty boy looks started drawing the lasses, Father an Grandfather sent word ta Thráin of ah handsome dwarf who just happened ta be good enough blood ta marry ah Durin an sire grandson's. Fili is ah miniature of his father."
"Cocky like him also," Dwalin smiled with joy. "When you really get to know Fili, you'll see he is all Durin. Kili on the other hand is a masculine form of Lis, but even I don't have a clue where his dark eyes come from."
"If I think about it, I'll ask Mother; maybe she'll remember," Dáin stated. "I hope I didn't tap him too hard. I used ta knock Dwili all over the training room an he would take all the abuse I could throw at him. He was good enough ta spar with me, but being ah general's son, it was ta be expected. We were quite surprised when about two years later, Thráin wandered in. He was on ah pony an made good time from Dunland. He said he went through the Gap of Rohan, crossed the Anduin below the falls and rode up the east side. It only took him just over ah month."
Dwalin looked surprised. "When he came back to Dunland with Dwili, they took the northern route and stopped at Ered Luin for ah few weeks. He never said what his mission was so we could rib Dis. I was shocked, truth be told," Dwalin stated quietly.
Dáin threw a calculated look at his riding companion. "Could be ye were thinking of asking Thráin for Dis' hand yerself?"
Dwalin avoided his gaze and looked ahead. "We aren't so close with our blood that it couldn't have happened. We were fairly close in age an she looked upon me as an older brother. Balin knew my feelings and kept my confidence. Dis was taken with Dwili's blond hair. Not too many dwarves are that fair. I never said ah word and they married on ah spring day the following year."
"She never knew?"
Dwalin shrugged. "For a time, I kept my distance and used the excuse of work, which was true. Thorin and I started taking ore to the villages of men for trade and we both were gone much of the time during those early years of Dis and Dwili. Thorin used to laugh that the newly wedded needed time alone and would drag Frerin off with us. I started spending more time with Balin and his daughters."
"What does a warrior do with a dwarrowlass?" Dáin laughingly threw back. "I leave mine with the dwarrowdams for the most part. She will make me rich in my old age with the proper dowry. I should get as much for my one as Balin commands for his two."
"That age is fast approaching. After Dis married, I started spending more time with Balin and his family. Nights would find me telling stories with ah lass on each knee. Balin would sit in his chair, smoking his pipe and laughing at his tough, warrior brother with dwarrowlasses wrapped around his fingers. They are as different as Fili and Kili. Cái is like Balin, smart and settled. Bát is like me, wild and fights all the dwarrowlads. I taught her weapons use and she swears she is going to become a warrior. I don't have the heart to tell her, a Durin female will never see battle while I'm alive."
Dáin snorted, "I wouldn't wish having ta choose between two dwarrowlasses on my worst enemy, let alone Thorin. Sounds like Thráin is bringing the bloody lot of available lasses together. I admit ta ah perverse enjoyment in his predicament after what I went through."
"I was there, remember?" Dwalin laughed. "Balin took one look at them and chose Cát and prayed constantly to Mahal that you chose Azie. He didn't want to have to fight his bride nightly to fulfil the marriage bed duties."
Dáin threw back his head and roared. "It wasn't quite that bad, but close. Azie told me right off ta choose Cát an be done with this so called honor of marrying ah Durin. Cát on the other hand asked what books I read. I wasn't sure at that time in my life that I learned all my letters yet. Azie liked ta watch me break boars for the halter and saddle, whereas, Cát looked bored. Did Balin ever tell ye, I asked which one he wanted?"
Dwalin threw him a surprised look. "He never mentioned one word, or I would have learned of it."
"I asked him ta keep it between us. I figured if Balin had his heart set on one, it wasn't fair for me ta choose first, just because I was higher ranking in the Durin line. Besides, he was older than me and would have been wed if not for Smaug. We talked about the lasses and each chose the one we figured complements us the best. I don't ever want Thráin to hear about how it was done. He thought I, on my own, chose. I don't want him meddling or ordering Thorin into ah marriage that will bring him misery. If he needs help, he can count on me ta discretely give my opinion. I know he'll ask you, Dwalin. He doesn't choose the color of socks without yer input."
They both laughed.
