Memories
Dwalin didn't think much of Bilbo Baggins when he first met him at Bag-End. He seemed like a soft, fussy little thing, but he had to admit he made great cookies. That's why he said that he shouldn't come and it really was it. The wild was not a place for gentle people like the hobbit. He stood by his thought until after the Misty Mountains. When Bilbo proved himself by standing up to Azog to protect Thorin when he couldn't and for that, Dwalin considered himself in the hobbits debt forever. If Thorin had died, he would have not just lost his king and leader but also his best friend, his shield brother and brother in all but blood.
Now at Beorn's, while they relaxed, the warrior started thinking about the small creatures sudden burst of courage, it puzzled him. How could a wee little thing like the burglar throw himself at someone the size of the Pale-freaking-Orc? The answer escaped him simply. But then he remembered the sloppy stance, the shaky hands and letter-opener. Slowly narrowing his eyes, he analysed what he didn't when it happened because of the fear he felt. Bilbo would have easier stabbed himself than killed another orc or warg. And he couldn't have that. Determination filled his gaze and Balin sighed heavily. "I don't like that look, brother. It announces no good for us. Who is the poor soul you decided to torture this time?" His elder brother asked, resigned, even if a little mischievous glint lit up his eyes. Dwalin smiled a little, hidden behind his beard. "Our burglar has no training with that small letter opener of his. Shouldn't I train him, so that he could properly defend himself when the time comes?" The bald warrior smirked and Balin signed once more. "You're right. You should." And as Dwalin got up, the scholar stopped him, making him laugh. "Just don't... Don't kill him please. I've gotten quite fond of him." Then he continued reading a book Beorn loaned him as if nothing happened.
Chuckling loudly, the warrior went to find the small hobbit and find him he did. He was in the garden, relaxing, talking with... the bees? "I know they're so weird. I had to be suicidal enough to try and fail to kill a big mean orc to be accepted by Thorin. Yeah, I know... Weird. But you know what? It makes me happy that I finally belong. I finally belong..." Strangely enough, the bee nuzzled closer to the hobbit as if it was giving him comfort. Dwalin lowered his eyes, feeling slight shame about intruding in a visibly personnel moment. Straightening his step (he was a great warrior after all! Why would he be nervous to talk to a Halfling?! Nonsense!), he approached Bilbo as silently as he could. "Hello Master Dwalin." Well not silently enough he guessed. Grunting, he stood next to the hobbit, offering a hand up. Bilbo frowned, confused but he stood all the same. "What can I help you with?" He asked, dusting himself. "We have to work on your swordsmanship. Training right now." Dwalin smirked as the hobbit got flustered and started stuttering. "I-I, no. I m-mean there's no need to. I am a perfectly capable gentlehobbit. I am respectable and I'm not supposed to go around killing things. That's just not how we hobbits do things. That orc I killed it was..." He suddenly stopped in his rambling, biting hid bottom lip.
It dawned upon the warrior that it was the first time the soft creature they took from his comfy house killed. He wondered if the hobbit had slept since. The night terrors you have after the first one are always the worst. It usually takes weeks for them to go away. Dwalin knew about it very well. His first had been a long time ago nut the memories were still vivid in his mind. Or the battle of Khazad-dûm, the Moria. Sighing slightly, his shoulders slumped. "You want to talk about it?" The dwarf grunted, and the burglar looked up in surprise. "Talk about... What?" He asked, gazing at his feet once more. "The night terrors, every warrior has them after their first kill." Dwalin watched as the hobbit shrunk into himself, as if trying to take less place. "You mean it's normal? It's not considered a child thing, nightmares?" And that was it, the great Captain of the Guard of Ered Luin was gaping at Bilbo Baggings, a small hobbit of the Shire. "Child thing?! That's how you see night terrors?!" Dwalin yelled, making his interlocutor wince at the tone. "Well we don't really go to war so none of us are caught by the memories at night. Well I can't say us anymore right?" He told with a slight self-depreciating tone. "How the hell did the hobbit race survive this long without any kind of war?" The warrior grumbled under his breath.
At that, Bilbo laughed a little. " I don't dream about killing an orc, I could kill thousands of them to save any of you. No, I dream about me not arriving in time, Thorin getting killed, Fili and Kili and you Master Dwalin getting killed. And all of that just because I wasn't strong enough, I wasn't fast enough... I wasn't enough..." He confessed and the In brother took a sharp intake of air. His face was getting red and if Bilbo knew him better, he would have known that he was about to box his ears off. "How can you say that?! If it weren't for you, Thorin and all of us would be dead right now! I don't say that a lot but I owe you Master Baggings, I owe you my King's life and that means more than any horded gold in this world. You were more than enough, you were very brave... " Dwalin let his words sink in before he continued. "But you were also very reckless and stupid! What the hell were you thinking, running down to face that wretched Azog with nothing but your letter opener and absolutely no training with it? I decided to give you lessons. Training starts now." And just like that, Dwalin was gone in a blur, leaving a dumbfounded hobbit behind him. And if at the end of the day, the warrior's lips were tugged in a small smile, well it was no-one else's business but his own.
Next: Balin