CHAPTER 3 - Cutscenes 2: We all Fall Down
.
Albus surveyed the battle aftermath, leaning heavily on his staff. It was an intricate work of mithril, black sapphire and stone-wood, large parts of which had once belonged to his ancestor, the Istari Romestamo.
Mordor orcs had somehow gotten into the third and fourth Deeps, slaughtering civilians, and off-guard warriors alike. There were no goblin settlements nearby, and orcs couldn't tunnel or mine for themselves. That left only the horrifying notion that some dwarrow had let them in.
There had been a growing murmur of civil unrest in the past year, that seems to have started with the Crown Prince's Mistress-in-the-closet scandal, that had somehow morphed from the follies of youth when faced with an ample bosom and pretty smile, into a reflection of the main royal line's ability to honour their contracts and promises.
However, the only other choice for the Lord of Ephol Duath would be Prince Tuomas, the current Ruler's younger brother. He was a rather self-centred and violent fellow, if only behind closed doors, while presenting a studious and aloof face to the public.
But politics and kings would have to wait for tomorrow, for right now there were injured to send to the healing halls, Honourable Dead to return to the stone, and orc corpses to dispose of. Two of those Honourable Dead were Jamis and Lili, their bodies moved to the line of cadavers awaiting identification and burial.
When news of the attack came, Albus had been heading for the Black Family residence for a bite of lunch and to go through the minutes from the last Lord's Meeting. Those papers were now strewn down some hallway or another, as he'd dropped them to come lend aid, as is required of all trained Shaman in the mountain. Both Albus' brothers, Alastor and Aber had quickly taken up formation with their kin, and a contingent of younger house members had come from an adjoining hallway to box the threat in.
The orcs were rounded up and slain, but many had been injured or killed. Alastor had lost a piece of his nose, Albus' grandson-in-law would be walking away with a few more scars, Albus himself was quite tried and bruised up, and of course, Jamis and his wife were slain. Sirius, unhurt if rather singed looking, was inconsolable. His favourite cousin and their One were dead. He'd only lost Regulus, his younger brother, near a year and a half ago too.
Albus sighed and straightened from his exhausted lean. He had much too much to do, to be standing around, brooding over all the House of Black's recent ill-fortunes. He'd send an aide to collect his dropped papers while he saw to his mourning grandson.
.
.
Tuni looked at the toddling dwarfling that she'd reluctantly agreed to take in, and that only due to the stipend the Black family was providing.
Ideally the brat would have gone to Moli, being Lili's sister, compared to Tuni being her first cousin, but Moli already had seven dwarflings, one still being a babe-in-arms. So Tuni had been offered to take in her cousin's child, and reluctantly did so. Now though, despite the money, she was already beginning to regret it.
First off, was the child's name. Harilaos. Yes, it was a star, like most of the Black family named their descendants, but did Lili's rock-head of a husband have to choose a star that was named for a balrog that was killed by an elf in the Second Age? Really, it was a ridiculous name.
Then there was the child himself. He was every inch the Black his dratted father was – coloured sparks coming off his fingers if he clapped excitedly, the stone tiles of the floor vibrating when he gets upset, the little brat's obsession with any object even mildly enchanted. He'd stare at the object or doorframe or whatever, to the exclusion of all else as though he was trying to understand the runes etched into it.
And of course, to put the icing on the cake, whenever Tuni went about her business in the mountain with little Harilaos and her own son in tow, other 'dams paid far more attention to the little freak, with his freaky sparks, and typical Blacklock skin, and bright jade eyes. Not that they didn't compliment her, in Tuni's own honest opinion, far superior son. But the elders and others still fawned over the brat, while her little dwarrow only rated a few comments. No money was worth her son being ignored like that.
Harilaos was once again staring at the jar on the mantle that contained a, currently unilluminated, light-stone. While all dwarrow possessed some magic – how else would they have Stone-sense, glowing crystals, hidden enchanted doorways, and metals that didn't rust or tarnish? – the Blacks, and therefore the freakish little dwarrow sitting on her floor, took that to a whole new level.
Maybe she should push the boy into his studies early, Tuni mused, as the smaller boy roundly ignored the other dwarfling on the rug who was hoarding the little wooden toys that had been put out for the both of them. It wouldn't do to be so abnormal as to mistreat the ill-named child, but if he was especially talented, through actual talent or just sheer stand-over parenting, then he'd be his master's problem, rather than Tuni's.
Yes, that would work, she decided. Then the boy would be elsewhere, and her little boy wouldn't be overshadowed by his cousin, like Tuni had been as a child.
.
.
Oin frowned at the letter in his hand. Apparently, Lili, one of the healers he'd been collaborating with on a dissertation of the Faults of the Forefathers' lines and the problems with inbreeding, had been killed. Orcs had gotten into the Shadow Mountain somehow and killed many dwarves and their families. Lili's successor at the clinic had written to him, along with sending all of Healer Lili's research, after finding their correspondence, while setting up his newly acquired office.
It was a damn shame, since she was the only other healer he knew, still living, who had seen and performed surgery on a dwarf with the Durin Fault. Now there was only Oin. And all he had to go on was his old master, Balur's, notes, his own notes and now, Lili's.
According to Healer Lili, young Nori's pelvis was shaped and fused like a male's, resulting in a natural birth being impossible. It was sheer luck, and the babe being small, that both child and birthing parent had survived. Healer Lili had recommended, for Nori's continuing health, if nothing else, that he not bear any more children. At the young dwarrow's request, his female reproductive organs had been removed.
According to Oin's previous Master's notes, Dori, Nori's elder brother, had been in much the same boat. But being that he'd been forced to give birth in exile from Erebor, before they'd settled in the Blue Mountains, the child hadn't survived. Also, according to Master Healer Balur, Prince Frerin had been born with the Fault, and had chosen to be fully male in early childhood. Princess Dis was born normal, and Thorin, though outwardly completely male, was also completely sterile. Whether that meant he was internally, at least partially, female, or it was an unconnected condition, no one knew. Exploratory surgery just wasn't safe enough to be going around performing non-lifesaving operations on Crown Princes.
Well, Oin had better get to contacting his other collaborators, to let them know of Lili's passing. Her work would of course still be credited in the finished study, but they could now expect no more contact from the recently deceased dwarrowdam. Healer Ulfric, from the Ironfist clan in Rhun, would be most upset he would not be getting a response to his questions about the Mania from Baran's line, or the Haemophilia in Var's.
Oin should probably also let young Nori know. If Lili and her family were killed in an orc attack, that meant Nori's child had passed away too.
.
.
The death of a child is a very serious matter, and can have extreme ramifications for many people, both immediately involved, and far more distant. For example, one of my previous co-workers lost her son when he was just 5 weeks old due to an undiagnosed immune disorder. While this was absolutely devastating to her, her family, the little boy's godparents, etc, it also deeply affected me as well. While you wouldn't know it now, my own son had been born with a serious heart defect, that was luckily found when he was a day old and surgically rectified when he was 3 months. If it had not been found so soon, my son would not be here today. So while I wasn't particularly close to this co-worker, the death of her son was traumatic to me because here this girl (she was 19 at the time) was, literally living out my nightmares from 14 years ago.
If you found this chapter and this issue triggering in any way, please reach out to your support network - whether this is family, friends, a therapist or counselor, or any of the helplines you may trust in your country/local area.
-Vengeance