Chapter Forty-Nine: Dis
T. A. 2800 Ered Luin
Winters in the Blue Mountains tend to be cold, even to a race as hardy as dwarves who are built for the chill inside mountains and the heat of the great forges. The young princess Dis, who has already spent nearly three quarters of her short life above ground, huddles into her furs and stares up at the moon. There is barely a slither of it left, by the following night there will be none at all, but she finds comfort in it. The moon's changes are constant and predictable.
Nothing about her life has been constant or predictable since Smaug chased them from Erebor. Everyone is changed or gone. Her was mother too badly injured during their escape from their home to survive and had died within hours of their flight. Dis' grandfather had barely acknowledged her existence before the mountain had fallen, after she was nothing more than an inconvenience, a confused child and another mouth to feed. Thorin lost his joy and his happiness the day Smaug came. Only Frerin had remained unchanged, until the day he had been told a wife had been chosen for him. Then he had become quiet and angry, training as much as he could and mostly ignored now that his purpose as the spare had been almost fulfilled. He had gone into battle, followed her grandfather and father and brother.
Of all of them only Thorin had come back to her.
So many friends, so many old warriors, so many of the survivors of Erebor lost trying to reclaim something that even Dis, young as she is, knows should have been left alone. She only has Thorin, now, Balin and Dwalin are his friends and they are so changed since the war she hardly knows them anymore. Thorin is changed too, he's dark and full of rage. He isn't the brother she remembers. She wonders, sometimes, what it would be like if Frerin had been the one to come home instead of Thorin. They don't even know whether Frerin is alive and well, dead, or running insane somewhere like their father is.
A terrifying thought.
"There you are," she hears Dwalin say behind her. She sighs. "You shouldn't be out here, Dis."
"Don't tell me where I should or shouldn't be, Dwalin," she mutters.
"Thorin's looking for you," he tells her, "you know how he gets."
Three months since his return and Thorin is still barely willing to let her out of his sight. Dis shoves her mourning braid behind her ear, mourning an old man who never saw her as anything more than a means to an end and a father who allowed her mother to die in agony rather than ending her pain. Then she stamps past her brother's closest friend and heads back towards the small house they share with Dwalin on her heels.
They can hear Thorin raging before they even get close to the building. Curses in Khuzdul (an infinitely more satisfying language to swear in) are being snapped out in clipped syllables over the sound of furniture breaking.
"Stay here," Dwalin orders. Dis is perfectly capable of defending herself, but she only has her short dagger at her hip since she left her axe in the house. So, she obeys, if only to ensure that Thorin doesn't lose another family member if they can help it.
Several minutes later she is beginning to shiver in the cold and Dwalin's voice has joined her brother's. They both seem intent on seeing who can think up the most creative new curse, apparently having forgotten that she is waiting on them. Dis rolls her eyes, sets her hand on the hilt of her tiny blade, and carefully enters the house.
The kitchen is destroyed, table and chairs reduced to kindling. Thorin paces among the debris, vile words dripping from his lips that are only matched by Dwalins own imprecations. A fresh set of cracks in the stone wall bear testament to one reaction (likely Dwalin) and she slams the door closed before standing with her hands on her hips. The time for being a proper princess, it would seem, is over.
"What in Mahal's name has gotten into you two?" She demands.
Thorin grunts something at Dwalin and flicks his hand. Dis raises her brows and waits as Dwalin huffs something back. This ability they have to communicate through little more than animal noises is frustrating in the extreme. Her fingers inch back towards her little knife and, finally, Dwalin hands her a sheet of paper.
"This is Frerin's hand," she whispers.
"The messenger brought it about an hour ago," Thorin hisses. "Read it."
My brother and sister,
My companion has been pointing out at length, and with increasing frequency, that I keep failing to assure you of my continued good health. She is, in fact, stood over me at this very moment with an iron spoon and threatening violence upon my person should I fail to do exactly that. I am, as you may gather, alive against all the odds of it. I owe my life to her as, without her help, I would have died of my injuries long before the battle was over. I have pledged ten years of my life to her in repayment of the debt, as is the way of things (and our grandfather was ever a stickler for doing things the correct way and leaving no debt behind us). We winter in Rohan, and we will begin travelling again when spring comes. I do not know if I will make it to Ered Luin at any time in the next decade. I would prefer not to. I assure you that should anything happen to me Bella will see to it that you are notified.
Frerin, son of Thrain.
"He's running," Thorin says as she begins to swear, not commenting on her choice of language.
"Balin warned he would," Dwalin agrees. "Selfish bastard." Dis, however, can see another problem and she casts the letter into the fire.
"We keep this between us and Balin," she declares. Thorin glares at her. "We don't need Fhrna hearing about this," she points out, "he'll claim we're trying to get out of our side of the bargain." She breathes a sigh of relief when Thorin agrees with her, then resumes her angry ranting about Frerin's selfishness.
T.A. 2942 Hobbiton
Dis doesn't think she has been 'good morning'ed by quite so many people not her own in her life. As a matter of fact, her own people are more likely to nod or half bow than they are to wish a pleasant day on anyone. Given the skittishness of the hobbits she had encountered closer to the border of the Shire Dis had expected it to be worse this far in, even knowing that her sons have been in residence for nearly six weeks. Especially knowing that her sons have been living here, she finds it hard to believe that they will have stayed entirely out of trouble and not scandalised the gentle creatures terribly with their antics.
Truth be told, Dis is hurt that they chose to wait for her in this sleepy little place rather than come home. Gloin and Bombur had explained why as best they could, that Fili's new wife had things she had to take care of before returning to Erebor and that her eldest was reluctant to part from her. Kili is always found where Fili is, but it still hurt that he had stayed behind as well. It makes Dis wonder what kind of harridan Fili has married, if he's so reluctant to bring her into the Blue Mountains. She's being unfair to the girl, and she knows it, but the idea of taking second place in Fili's life (or third since he has always put Kili before everyone else) stings.
The house she finds is set into the hill in the manner of so many hobbit houses. Its green door, bizarrely round, is open to the fresh spring air, as are the windows. The garden is neatly kept and even this side of the gate she can smell something delightful cooking. Dis lets herself in, taking the open door as an invitation to do so. There are a few crates in the entrance hall, all but one is sealed. The open crate shows straw and a glint of fine china such as her people have never truly perfected the making of. Dwarves prefer their tableware rather more robust. Fili and Kili's weapons are laid carefully across the top of a delicately carved chest, their coats hung on a nearby stand with several others. Of her boys there is neither sight nor sound, although she hears singing coming from further in it is far too light to belong to any dwarf. Dis follows the sound, slightly put out at not finding her boys home though she knows them too well to have expected them to linger in idle stillness.
"Kili, I swear to Yavanna," a voice says as Dis steps into the neatly kept kitchen, "if you've brought me more fish without cleaning them, I'll tie knots in all your bow strings."
When did Kili start fishing?
"Then it is fortunate I am not Kili," Dis says and the small woman turns from the stove to face her.
Whatever Dis had been expecting this little hobbit to be like, she isn't sure this is it. The irritation on her face smooths instantly into apologetic curiosity, marred somewhat by the wide streak of flour on her cheek. It's a kindly face, Dis decides, but she wonders whether the interior matches the exterior. She would hope Kili would have the sense to stop his brother from making a mistake but it's entirely possible her boys were both taken in before they realised their error. She fervently hopes that she's being unnecessarily suspicious, that Fili's little hobbit truly is his One and that he hasn't deceived himself as well as her out of fear of dying unloved and unremarked. Given how warmly Bombur and Gloin have spoken of the girl (and her mother) Dis wants to like her. Besides, she seems to know how to handle the boys well enough if the only words she's said so far are anything to go by.
"Forgive me, please," the hobbit girl says, "I didn't realise the door had been left open."
"I should have announced myself," the princess concedes, although she had wanted to see how Fili's little wife would react. "Dis, daughter of Thrain."
The hobbit arches an eyebrow, although it strikes Dis as more amused than offended at her omission. Given her position, however, it is not for Dis to offer her service.
"Bluebell Baggins," she bows. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Fili, Kili and Frerin have told me a great deal about you. My husband and brother will be disappointed that they weren't here to greet you." A pretty little speech, Dis thinks.
"Where are they?" She asks.
"Fishing with Hamfast Gamgee," Bluebell replies, filling a little kettle and placing it on the stove. "I'm not overly enamoured of fish personally, but I'm not going to stop them. It's easier to sort this place out when they're elsewhere. Please, sit, I know the boys say you prefer tea, but I have coffee, ale or some elderflower cordial if you prefer."
In a dwarf this would seem like nervous fluttering or a desperate attempt to ingratiate herself. In Bluebell, however, it sounds like little more than an average question, some part of hobbit entertaining that isn't present in dwarves. Among dwarves you get ale unless your host knows you well enough to know you would prefer something else. She settles in a chair at the sturdy kitchen table, hiding a wince as her ribs protest the change in position.
"Tea will be fine," Dis answers, entirely the princess which doesn't seem to phase her host at all. Then again, her host has spent the better part of a year with Thorin at his most bull-headed. Bluebell just smiles and sets a large plate with a selection of small cakes and biscuits upon it onto the table. Then she turns back to preparing the tea, stopping occasionally to stir whatever she is cooking.
"I hope you'll forgive me if I don't sit with you as we talk," she says, "there's so much to do before we depart for Bree with the others."
"Would it not have been easier for my sons to remain and help you?" Dis enquires. She knows her boys well enough to know that they are often more of a hindrance but that had been one of the reasons Fili had apparently elected to stay with her. Bluebell chuckles.
"They did try," she says, "as did Freya and Surik, but it's just quicker for me to find the things I want to take or that Mama will have wanted kept and pack them myself. They move the heavy things for me when I need them to, and we sent Freya and Surik to help those leaving with us to prepare properly." Dis nods, she had received the letters telling her of the hobbits who would be migrating. "As for Fili and Kili," Bluebell sighs. "They'll have enough to do once we join your people, and more still once we get back to Erebor. I just felt they should have a chance to relax."
"There will be as much pressure on you," Dis points out, although her opinion is softening.
"True," she admits, "but I can't relax while there's still so much to do here, for my cousin's sake as well as mine and my mother's. Mama and Adad are already preparing what they can for those of my people coming with us and, with luck, there will be times in the future where I will have to be idle whether I want to be or not."
"Bluebell?" The familiar voice of her eldest carries through the underground home.
"In the kitchen," the hobbit calls in reply. Booted feet approach and Dis stands, ready to greet her sons.
"We didn't manage to catch any fish," Fili is saying as he walks through, Kili close behind him. He trails off when he sees his mother, coming to a dead halt which causes Kili to crash straight into him. "Amad?" He sounds like he can't quite believe she has arrived.
"I just got here," she tells them, opening her arms and deliberately not mentioning that she's been trying to work out why this hobbit is Fili's One. She still can't quite believe everything that Gloin and Bombur had told her and they had danced around (or outright refused to answer) several of her questions about the pair of hobbits who had managed to make off with the hearts of two princes from Durin's line. Perhaps her problem is less with the daughter and more with the mother, she muses.
Her sons rush to her, wrapping her arms around her in a way they haven't since they much younger. She holds them as tightly as she is able, although her ribs once again remind her that she should have been more careful in the training ring the morning before she left for the Shire. She knows she should have seen a healer, but they would have stopped her from leaving, which would have held up their return to Erebor and prevented her from seeing her sons.
"Amad?" Kili asks when particularly tight squeeze makes her breath catch. "Are you alright?" This quest has done more than add to her youngest's muscles and take the last pieces of youth from his eyes.
"I'm fine," she tries to brush it off. "A moment of inattention while I was training a few weeks ago. It's just a few bruises."
"Bruises would have healed by now," Fili disagrees. "Bluebell, would you?" He summons his wife from her tasks.
"If your mother doesn't object," the girl replies.
"My objections didn't stop you," Fili protests.
"You were trying to die on me," Bluebell replies loftily. Gloin and Bombur didn't mention that. "I am a healer, my lady," she adds. "If you would sit, I'll see what I can do."
Dis considers objecting, attempting to brush it off once again, but her sons' worry is clear, and she doesn't want to upset them when they are only just reunited and there are already signs that there will be several difficult discussions ahead. They so rarely go against her wishes, but they are clearly changed, and the hobbit girl won't be the source of all of those changes. She sits, expecting Bluebell to ask her to remove her many layers of clothing. Instead the girl looks at her thoughtfully and rests a small hand on Dis' arm as her eyes begin to glow.
"It's alright, Amad," Fili says softly as he sees her shift a little. "Let her work, it's normal." There is a warm feeling in her chest and her breathing, along with her temper, eases.
"Well?" Kili asks.
"At least I've found out where your habit of hiding injuries comes from," is the waspish reply. "Four cracked ribs and some nasty bruising in your arm," she adds. "I'm sure you're perfectly capable, my lady, but I wonder why your own healer let you travel."
"I doubt he knew," Fili says. "Amad and Uncle are very alike in that regard." His little wife hums but doesn't comment.
"What's for lunch?" Kili asks abruptly, his thoughts, as ever, turning to his stomach once the immediate situation is resolved. Not even eighteen months out of Ered Luin could change that.
"Fish soup," the girl replies promptly and Kili groans. "You caught them all."
"I wish I hadn't," is the petulant reply.
"Well it's the last of them. Unless you've brought more?" She sounds resigned and Dis wonder just how much fish has been eaten these last weeks.
"They weren't biting," Fili shrugs.
"Smart fish," Bluebell replies. "I've finished packing, apart from a couple of pieces," she continues. "We should be ready to leave in a couple of days."
"Why not tomorrow?" Dis asks, although they aren't in that much of a rush, she has no idea how quickly the hobbits will travel.
"You don't feel it now," Bluebell smiles, "but give it an hour or so and you'll be exhausted, healing takes a lot out of you. You'll welcome the rest tomorrow. Besides, we have to make sure the others are ready."
"I'll spend tomorrow checking the local families and spreading the word," Fili says. "If we wait too much longer, we won't make Erebor before winter."
They leave two days later, picking up carts full of hobbits and their belongings (as well as seeds) on the way. It takes a few days to get out of the Shire, and more than once their party is stopped by others begging those leaving to reconsider. By the time they are half way to Erebor Dis has concluded that the more outlandish parts of the story of her brother's quest are probably true.
By the time they reach the mountain she has decided that she likes Bluebell after all, especially given the young princess is visibly with child. Besides, Dis has her sights set on her two brothers, both of whom deserve a rather large piece of her mind.
A.N: I so often read stories where Dis immediately likes Bilbo (or the female incarnation of Bilbo) and is perfectly happy with whatever relationship Bilbo has with the Company and Thorin, Fili and Kili specifically. Whether friend or lover or spouse. I wanted her to be a little less happy and a little less trusting because she's a mama bear and who out there is really good enough for her boys?