Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! A special thanks goes to Hermione Granger (I will try and add some more Finn when I can, thank you!) and Bloodlust. I hope you enjoy this next one too :D
Please forgive any typos that I might've made!
Read. Enjoy. Review.
Chapter Ninety Seven # A Mother's Love #
Sticking her tongue out in concentration, Dís curved her wrist and coloured the final part of her picture. There! That looked just like Adad! Perfect.
The little princess sighed, her eyes straying over to the dolls strewn over the sofa and floor. Frerin had promised that he would be back soon and that they would continue their game then, but surely he would not mind if Dís started without him?
Dís decided that Frerin would not mind and she shuffled over, her puffy, silk dress dragging on the floor. Leaving Frerin's dolls where he had left them, Dís picked up her own characters and began to animate them again.
"There's an inn, there's an inn,
There's a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill!" she sang under her breath as her princess toy danced with the miner doll.
She could hear the muffled sounds of people running and screaming, but she was not too fussed. As long as they left her to play, the rest of Erebor's population could do whatever they wanted. Dís continued to sing, dancing her dolls up the arm of the sofa.
"And there they brew a beer so brown,
The man on the moon-"
All of a sudden her door crashed open and her mother ran in. Except it did not look like her mother, because her face was all wrong – her blue eyes were wide open and her skin was as white as snow. Amad looked scared, and it frightened Dís.
"Ama?"
"Dís!" her mother choked, running over and grabbing her daughter's arm. "Dís, is anyone else here?"
Dís paused. Saphí was not supposed to leave her alone, and if she admitted that the woman had agreed to go and get her some cookies she might get her beloved maid in trouble.
Amad grabbed her arms and shook her. "Dís! This is important, are you alone?"
"Yes, Ama," Dís whispered, afraid of this strange new behaviour.
Her mother scooped her off of the floor and began to run back towards the door.
"Ama!" she cried in protest, reaching for her dolls. "Ama, I was just playing-"
"Hush now, Dís, there's a good girl," her mother swung around the doorframe and began pounding on Frerin's door. "Frerin! Frerin!"
Dís whined and tried to get down, but Amad's grip was like a vice and there was no escape. "Ama, you're scaring me!"
The door opened, interrupting any reply her mother might have had. "Ama? What's wrong?"
"Who else is here?" the crown princess demanded, seizing her son's wrist.
"No one!" Frerin protested, fear flickering in his eyes. "What's happening?"
"We must leave," Amad said, racing towards the door out of the royal wing. "We must go, now!"
"Why?" Dís stared over her mother's shoulder at her retreating door.
"We must-"
A deafening crash interrupted her mother's words and the shaking ground sent all three of them tumbling down the stairs.
"Dís, Frerin!" Amad cried, reaching for both of them. "Are you alright?"
"Ama, what's happening?" wailed Frerin, clutching his bloodied nose.
Then came an ear-splitting roar, and screaming, so much screaming.
"Ama, what's that noise?" Dís squeaked, grasping onto her mother's arms.
"I need you two to be brave," Amad whispered. "I need you two to be very brave, because there's a dragon and we need to get out of the mountain."
"Dragon?" Frerin's eyes widened in terror. "Amad-"
"Hush now, we'll be alright," she stood up, looking around quickly. "This way!"
Dís sobbed into her mother's shoulder as they raced through one of Erebor's many corridors. She could hear screaming and crying and roars in waves, louder then quieter, and crashing down upon her head. She could see Frerin tripping and struggling to steady himself and then Amad was dragging them across an exposed pathway.
And then Dís saw the dragon.
She screamed, and Amad gasped, tearing away into the nearest cover, a little hidden alcove. But even Dís could see they were trapped. Even if they escaped down the little corridor that led out of the alcove, the dragon would surely see them.
"Ama!" Frerin sobbed, clutching her tightly. "What do we do, what do we do?"
The crown princess hugged Dís and then Frerin, and then she kissed them and let go of Dís, putting her hand into Frerin's. "Frerin, when I tell you so you are to take your sister and run. Make for the gates, stop for no one and never look back!"
Frerin went pale. "Ama, no we're not leaving you-"
"Yes, yes you are because you have to," their mother replied, her voice shaking. "I love you so much, alright? Remember that, both of you. I love you so, so much."
"Ama!" Dís wept, because even though she was only ten she understood. "No, please, no!"
"Oh, my daughter," Amad had tears in her eyes and on her cheeks and she put a hand on Dís and her other on Frerin. "My son… I have nothing I can give, but this chance that you might live. I pray we'll meet again… if Mahal will deliver us."
And then she stood up and drew her sword, and ran back out into the open.
"Dragon!" she roared. "Come and taste your fill of dwarven steel – if it is blood you crave I'll let you taste your own!"
And Dís heard a cold laugh, so loud that it made the bones of the mountain shake.
And then she saw her mother tap her finger against the hilt of her sword.
And then Frerin ran down the back entrance to the alcove.
"Ama!" she screamed, but the last she saw the dragon was swooping down and Amad had nothing but a sword, a sword to fight a mouth full of swords, and then Frerin dragged her around the corner and she saw her mother no more. "No, Frerin, no! Ama's back there!"
"I know," he panted, pulling her further onwards. "Don't look back Dís, don't look back!"
They ran, hand in hand, faster and faster and faster until finally they saw the gates.
Or what was left of the gates – hunks of rock strewn across the floor.
Frerin picked his way through and they scrambled out, swept up by the river of terrified dwarves. And Dís knew. She knew when they finally stopped, still in view of what was once their home, that she would never see her mother again.
Dís opened her eyes.
There had been no shred of fantasy in her dream. She knew that memories had a habit of morphing away from the truth, but that day was seared into her mind when she was but ten years old, and scars that run that deep never disappeared.
Nor would she want it to. It was among the most painful memories she carried in her heart, but she would never want to forget. Her mother would always be her hero, and to forget her greatest sacrifice would be a grave insult to her memory.
It sometimes seemed to Dís that she was the only one to uphold her mother's memory. There was no grave, no marker for Una, wife of Thráin, who had stood before the mighty Smaug with nothing but a sword to give her youngest children the chance to flee for their lives. Thorin never spoke of her, not ever. Una was mentioned even less than Frerin.
Dís closed her eyes on her forming tears. After all this time, it was still raw, still painful. There would be no more rest for her tonight. She stood and pushed open the door to her living room, lighting the chandelier that ran around the room. It seemed smaller than it had when she was a girl, but that was to be expected.
It was exactly how she left it. Her dolls were all there, in place, her drawings still strewn all over the floor.
Frerin's dolls were there, too.
Where he left them.
Of all her loses, Dís mourned Frerin the most fiercely. She seldom spoke of him, at Thorin's behest mainly. It hurt him, remembering their brilliant brother. He had been taken before his time.
Dís still remembered Thorin falling into her arms, telling her that Frerin was gone, that he was dead, and she had not believed him and demanded to see his body but it got worse and Thorin wailed and admitted that they had burnt his body upon a pyre with the rest of them because there were so many dead and Dís had collapsed.
Frerin had no grave either.
Dís stared at the little sofa for a long moment, and then she traced her fingers across its wine coloured arms. It was only big enough to seat two people, small people. It would not be very heavy.
She paused, and then used every ounce of care in her body to drag the sofa across the room. She placed it near to the wall and then paused to think. A wave of inspiration struck her and she slipped out of her room and into Frerin's. Her heart ached at the sight, but she took a deep breath and strode through the mess to the picture hanging on the wall.
The portrait of her and her brothers.
Frerin's pride and joy.
She took it down and tucked it under her arm, before walking over to the wide, low table that she and her brothers had used to play cards and board games on those rare days they could be cajoled into quieter play. Resting the painting on the table, she picked it up and carried it into her own room. It was solid wood, and rather heavy, but she did not stop until it was in her own room. Dís placed the painting on her own table and then pushed Frerin's a little alcove they used to use for hide and seek, moving the cupboard that used to sit over it to the other side of the room.
Breathing in slowly and deeply, Dís crouched down and lifted up the old sofa, taking great care not to even shift the toys still lying on it, and used Frerin's table as a stand to elevate it off of the floor. Then she picked up the toys that had lingered on the floor and positioned them on the table before the sofa, arranging them the same way she had left them so long ago. A short search quickly turned up a nail, though it took a little longer to find a hammer. She had to venture into her father's room for that.
Running her fingers up the wall, Dís found the perfect spot and began to hammer the nail into the stone. Finally, it was done, and she hung the painting above the sofa. There were tears on her cheeks as she worked, but she paid them no heed and wove together ribbons and strips of fabric scraps from her mother's room to make a rope as soft as silk, and she hung it across the front of the alcove.
Then she stepped back and stared at her handiwork, finally reaching up to wipe her tears away. It was even better than she imagined it to be, her own little shrine to her stolen childhood.
She glanced at the dust covered clock on the wall. By all rights it should have stopped centuries ago when there was no one there to wind it up, but this was an Infinity Clock, and the dwarven craft masters of old had devised ways to make the clock wind itself. Last night she had found it still ticking, though it was several hours off the correct time. She had reset it, though, and now trusted that it was telling her the truth.
It was still only four hours past midnight. Dís sighed. She was weary, yes, but she had no desire to go back to sleep.
So Dís got dressed, choosing to wear a gown for the first time in months – she always wore trousers and tunics on the road. Then she brushed her hair through and braided it, unconsciously shaping it into the same simple crown braid she had worn as a child, weaving the back section into a loose plait that ran down her back.
Then she left her room and strolled over to the marble staircase, trailing down it with bare feet.
"Your highness!" the young guard at the base of the stairs bowed deeply at her. "Can I assist you?"
"No, thank you," she smiled, and then changed her mind. "Actually, do you know if there is anywhere that I could obtain some food at such an hour?"
"Uh, well there's always someone on standby in the main kitchens, especially since some start work early, so you could try there… Or you could wake up one of the vendors-"
"No," Dís shook her head. "I have no wish to wake anyone. It is not urgent."
"Forgive me prying, my lady, but do you intend to go for a walk now?"
"I do," she inclined her head, studying him carefully. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, if you would not have a guard with you I would implore you to take a weapon, my lady. Erebor is not yet at its safest."
The smile returned to Dís' face. "I am armed, Master Guard. What is your name?"
The guard bowed deeply. "Darben, son of Duncan, at your service your highness."
"Well, I greatly appreciate your concern, Master Darben," she replied. "Farewell."
"Farewell, my lady," he bowed once more, and Dís walked on.
She had no particular destination in mind, but she was unsurprised that her feet had brought her to the little alcove before the bridge, though she could not bring herself to look at the walkway itself. It was overwhelming, standing her where her mother made her final stand, standing where she had witnessed the greatest act of motherly love she could ever imagine.
It was overwhelming to stand on the spot where a little girl had lost her mother.
Dís pushed a hand over her mouth but it could not stop the tears from falling or the sobs from breaking out, not this time. She sank down to the floor and leant against the cold stone wall.
What she would give for Frerin to be beside her…
Eventually, Dís' pain eased enough to allow the tears to slow and she stood up, steadied herself and stepped out onto the bridge.
And then her heart stopped.
Standing in the middle of the bridge was a familiar figure, immortalised in smooth marble and white gold.
Her mother.
Dís' mouth dropped open and she began to walk across the bridge. Beyond the statue, the bridge was destroyed, and it spanned little more than half the gap it used to cover. But Dís did not care about that.
She reached the statue and brushed her hands across the smooth stone. It was her mother's face, and the likeness was exact. Her expression was one of determination, but she looked sad, too. In her hand, to the side, was her own sword. With a jolt, Dís realised that it was actually her mother's blade, not a replica or part of the statue. So they had found the sword…
The carven details were lined with white gold, her mother's favourite metal. Her hair was depicted flowing freely behind her, long enough to reach her hips. Dís' eyes were drawn down, and then she saw the tablet, the letters carved in the common tongue for all to read.
Here marks the place where Princess Una made her final stand and gave her life that her children might live.
We honour, love and remember her.
Always.
Below the inscription, were two words in Khuzdul.
Aimugalikh Amdel
Farewell, mother of all mothers.
"I wanted to write more, but I thought she would most appreciate something more humble."
Dís jumped at her brother's hoarse voice, glancing over his shoulder at him. "You… you did this?"
Thorin nodded, staring at the sculpture as he walked over to her. "I found the marble a few days after Fíli and Kíli left and brought it back to my room. Every night I could not sleep, I carved a little more. It was finished a week ago. It was the best way I could think to honour her."
Dís looked back at the statue, wiping away yet more tears. "It is a good idea. It is perfect, Thorin."
"I'm glad you think so… I was afraid you'd think it bawdy and obnoxious…"
"No," she shook her head, reaching behind her to take her brother's hand. "She's beautiful…"
"She was…"
"What are you doing here?" Dís asked, turning to look over her shoulder.
"I was going to go for a walk myself. I saw you disappear down the hall and I thought I'd follow you. In case you came here… I wanted to explain, in case you didn't like it…"
Dís smiled sadly as her brother trailed off. "Well, I love it. I've missed you, Thorin."
Thorin replied by wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. "I know that I have not been the best brother to you. I've made mistake after mistake and I will do again, I imagine. But I love you so much and I promise you that I am trying."
"I know," she whispered back. "And I know that I give you a hard time of it but there are many worse brothers than you, Thorin. I love you too."
"I wish Frerin could see this."
"Me too," Dís pushed her face into her brother's shoulder to prevent more tears from spilling. "Oh, Mahal, me too."
"I don't know how to honour him, Dís," Thorin's voice was that of a vulnerable child. "I don't know what he would want."
"We can think on it together," she promised.
"It's not fair."
"No, it's not fair." Dís agreed. And then she paused. "Thorin, I want to show you something."
With that, she led him back to her room, and his eyes filled with unrestrained tears at the sight of her little shrine. "Dís… that's perfect…"
"He still needs a stone," Dís insisted, sniffing. "Something to laud him to the people."
"Aye, I will get to it immediately," Thorin nodded.
"Thorin?"
"Mm?"
"I need a drink."
Thorin smiled ever so slightly and squeezed her hand. "Come…"
They went into Thorin's rooms and sat down on his sofa, each with a glass of whisky in hand.
"Ah, Amad would slap me thrice if she saw this," Dís breathed. "A lady, drinking before six o'clock in the morning…"
"And she'd slap me four times for letting you."
Dís snorted. "As if you could stop me."
"True…" Thorin took a sip of his drink.
"So, tell me," Dís leant forward. "What other news am I to catch up on other than Dwalin's engagement?"
Thorin paused. "Would you like Balin's version, or mine?"
"It is too early to dance around things, Thorin," she smiled ever so slightly. "Just tell me how it is."
"As you're aware there were several orc raids and traitor attacks after the party left Erebor for the Shire. In one of them, we lost Orvar and Elin."
Dís gasped, a wave of fresh grief crashing down upon her. "No! The children?"
"Safe," Thorin nodded. "But Ari and Auden were badly wounded. They are healed now, and after Ari had a misadventure with some traitors that ended with him slipping past my guard to hide under my bed they are under Dori's care most days. What else… well, obviously Dwalin fell into a traitor-trap, and then Balin was attacked by two young traitors. He killed one of them. His name was Finni."
"Finni?" Dís raised an eyebrow. "Well… I never liked that nickname anyway."
"The other's name is Ióni. Balin saw him pardoned."
"Pardoned?" Dís choked on her whiskey.
"Aye," Thorin shook his head. "As it turns out, they had been misled. Rumours had spread that I would begin to enslave poorer folk and criminals as soon as the rich arrived, rumours that I would go back on my word. Balin felt sorry for him. Got the lad sentenced to a decade of hard labour for a living wage. For the first five years he must spend his nights in the dungeon. Balin thought that offering him a way out would encourage others to come forward."
"That makes sense," Dís nodded slowly. "And has it worked?"
"At first, not at all," Thorin sighed. "But then they began coming forward. Two or three at first, then more. Last I checked the count was almost a hundred, and most of them were so young, Dís. Many had no idea that the traitors were linked to the orcs-"
"Linked?"
"The traitors you brought with you hired the orcs to carry out strikes on travellers to cripple us."
Dís swore. "Truly? Filthy bastards!"
"Aye," Thorin growled. "But we are rid of most of them by now. We only have the scum you brought with you to deal with. No doubt there will be others to try again, and maybe a few more around at the moment but we're growing stronger and more able to deal with them by the day."
"Good," Dís nodded. "Good…"
"Other than that there is little news to give you. The rebuilding is going very well, very well indeed, and our alliances with New Dale and the Woodland Realm-" the latter was pronounced like a curse "-have never been stronger. Though there is little love for Thranduil in my heart I am fond of Bard. He is a good man and I have no doubt he will rise to be a fine king."
"Good," Dís nodded. "We met him on our way through – I like him."
"Oh, yes, speaking of who you like and dislike… Elza. She's a nice lass, Dís."
"So I've heard. I'm inclined to agree, but I will make up my mind in my own due time."
"As is your right," Thorin bowed his head. "Dís… was Pervinca Took wearing one of your beads in her hair?"
"Three of them, actually. Is that a problem?"
"No," Thorin said slowly. "We will have to sell it to the council – there will be those who disagree with placing them among the Halls of the High Lords."
"Well it is really quite straightforward. They are family of my son, your nephew, our prince, and therefore of our – royal – family."
"And I agree with you," Thorin nodded. "But I suggest that we make things official on Durin's Day."
She frowned. "In what sense?"
"Well, when we are instated as officially ruling Erebor, it presents as a good time for other legally binding matters. Should we legalise Bilbo's fatherhood of Kíli, then the Tooks and Brandybucks will be legally considered blood-relatives of ours, and the bond will be impossible to contest."
Dís stared at her brother. "That is actually a very good idea."
Thorin smirked slightly. "I've been known to have them on occasion."
"I'm very impressed," Dís grinned.
"However…" Thorin frowned once more. "I would offer them titles of Lords and Ladies befitting to such a status, especially given the sacrifices they have made, but hobbits are a very unassuming folk, if Bilbo is anything to go by… Do you think they would object to titles?"
Dís laughed. "From my experience, they would adamantly refuse, before finally accepting, whence Esme, Saradoc and Paladin would begin a posturing contest to put you and Dwalin to shame while Ellie would shake her head and consider disowning all three of them."
Thorin smiled. "Well, I shall offer in any case."
"Good," Dís said, taking a long swig of her drink. "I'm glad you're accepting of them."
"They are Kíli's family, as you said," Thorin shrugged. "They have had quite the ordeal, and if Kíli is to live here against his heart's desire I would have him feel as at home as possible. If that means accepting a dozen hobbits into our midst then I will do so happily."
"Oh, thank the Valar!" Dís let her head drop back. "You are finally talking sense, brother!"
"You're quite the charmer, Dís."
"I know…" Dís' eyes fell upon an old, faded box. "Oh, Thorin!"
"What?"
"Is that…"
"My old chess set? Yes, it is."
"Fancy a game?"
Thorin grinned. "I'm still better than you, Dís. You're only going to lose."
She scowled. "Bring it on, orc-face!"
Thorin blinked at the name Dís and Frerin had used whenever their elder brother got on their nerves, but then he smirked and replied with another name that had not been heard since Erebor fell. "I will, elf-ears!"
"Ooh, I am going to crush you!" Dís crooned, automatically stroking her perfectly rounded (and certainly not elf-like) ears as Thorin began setting up the board.
"Good luck with that. Black or white?"
"I'll play black," Dís decided.
Thorin nodded. "The colour of your heart, of course."
"Well in that case white is the colour of your face every time you see a little rabbit."
"It's your son that's afraid of kittens, not me."
"Did I say kittens? No, I'm rather certain I said rabbits. I still remember the 'scars' you got from that hunt, by Durin…"
"Shut up and play, Dís."
"It's your go."
"I've already gone."
"Oh, right."
"See, this is why I always win."
"Shut up, Thorin."
"Make me."
Dís raised her eyebrows and moved her pawn. "Your turn."
Thorin paused and moved a knight. "I noticed that Frodo Baggins calls you Auntie. How did that start?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Dís pushed another pawn forward. "He began to say it after a week or so and I did not have the heart to tell a recent orphan that we were not actually related."
"I see," Thorin paused, and then moved a pawn of his own. "Is that it?"
She frowned and lifted her knight deftly across the board. "What more could there be?"
"I don't know, but none of the others have called you that, in my hearing," Thorin deliberated for a moment and then freed his bishop.
"Well, none of the others lived in Bag End," Dís captured his bishop with her knight and a smirk. "Though Bilbo is his cousin the age difference has Frodo calling him Uncle. Perhaps he thinks that because Kíli's father is his uncle his mother must be his aunt. I don't know. Does it irk you, brother?"
"I actually thought it was rather sweet," Thorin took one of her pawns with one of his.
"He is adorable," Dís agreed, shifting one of her castles.
"I think he looks like me," Thorin moved a pawn.
Dís laughed. "You wish. The eyes and the hair, perhaps, but he's not nearly as ugly as you are."
"You wound me, sister. Check."
"What?!" Dís gasped, looking down at the board. "That's not check!"
"No, but you weren't paying attention. It's your move."
Glaring, Dís took one of her pawns and hit his knight across the board. "Arse."
"Language."
The game – and subsequent rematches ("You have to be cheating, Dís. Tell me how you're doing it and I won't hold it against you.") – lasted for hours, until finally Dís had to throw in the towel.
"Thorin, I am starving. I'm telling you, it's checkmate."
Thorin grumbled and stood up. "Fine. Mahal forbid you ever become my opponent in real-life politics."
"You wouldn't know what hit you," she agreed. "Eight is a reasonable time for breakfast, is it not?"
"Of course. The main kitchens serve breakfast from six o'clock to midday."
"And I shall have to go to the main kitchens because I did not go shopping yesterday and because the only thing you're likely to have in here is biscuits."
"Actually, I also have a bowl of apples."
"Oh, well, we should slap on a hat and call you a cook."
"Come," Thorin smiled, offering her his hand. "Let's see who else is awake."
Dís looped her arm through his, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "I think that's a good idea."
They knocked on Kíli's door first.
"Jus'a'min'ed!"
Thorin and Dís exchanged glances. "He's asleep."
After a moment the door opened, and Kíli appeared. His hair was all over the place and his pyjamas were wonky, but his eyes brightened at the sight of his mother and uncle.
Dís raised her eyebrows at him. "Food?"
Kíli was instantly joined by Luno, and he rubbed his eyes with a smile. "Give me two minutes?"
"We're going down to the main kitchens, so get dressed, alright?"
"Yes, Amad," Kíli said, closing the door behind him.
Dís glanced at Thorin, surprised to see him beaming. "What?"
"I never thought I'd hear that again, not in Kíli's voice."
Dís smiled softly. "I know."
They moved onto the next door, but Fíli opened almost immediately.
"Morning," he yawned, pushing back his already braided hair. "Breakfast time?"
"Yes, we're going to the main kitchens." Dís smiled at her son.
"I'll come along," Fíli nodded. "Do I need to bring anything?"
"No, breakfast and dinner are provided free to everyone," Thorin explained.
"Ah, good." Fíli shut the door behind him. "Have you woken Kíli?"
"Aye, we're going to see if Bilbo's awake," said Thorin.
"He will be," Fíli nodded.
"Frodo will have woken him up," added Dís, and they knocked upon the final occupied door in the royal wing.
Before she finished knocking, the door swung open and Frodo beamed up at her.
"Good morning Auntie Dís!"
"Good morning, Frodo," she replied, unable to stop herself from enveloping the hobbit in a huge hug. "Is your uncle awake?"
"Mm-hm," Frodo nodded, hugging her back before waving up at the other dwarves. "Morning Fíli, morning Mister Thorin!"
"Morning, Frodo!" Fíli replied, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Good morning," Thorin said, and then he added. "You may call me Thorin, Master Frodo. There is no need for Mister."
"Alright," Frodo smiled shyly. "But only if you just call me Frodo, please."
"Of course," Thorin bowed his head.
Dís smiled.
"Good morning," Bilbo appeared behind his nephew, pulling on a smart burgundy waistcoat. "What can we do for you?"
"We're off to get some breakfast," Dís grinned as the hobbit's ears twitched and his eyes brightened.
"Ooh, we'll come, we'll come!" Frodo gasped excitedly, grabbing Bilbo's hand. "Come on, Uncle Bilbo!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Bilbo transferred Frodo's hand into Dís' so that he could straighten out his waistcoat. "Do I need to bring anything?"
"Only yourself," Dís assured him, to Frodo's dismay.
"What about me?"
"And you, Frodo."
They collected a still-yawning Kíli on the way and Luno and Lani along with him. Then they strode down into the Halls of the High Lords and knocked on the Brandybuck's door.
For a moment there was a soft whining noise, followed by silence, and then Saradoc opened the door, tying his dressing gown tight. "Oh, good morning."
"We're off for breakfast. Do you want to come?"
Saradoc hesitated, while Koda began wagging his tail. "Is it a limited time offer?"
"Not at all – if you wish to rest longer I will charge one of the guards with taking your family down to the main kitchens when you wake," Thorin said.
"If it's not an inconvenience, that'd be nice," Saradoc was clearly struggling not to yawn.
"Of course," Thorin inclined his head, calling over to a nearby guard, one that Dís recognised. "Kyrri!"
"My Lord?" the guard replied.
"This is Saradoc Brandybuck. When it pleases him, will you escort his family down to the main kitchens?"
"Of course," Kyrri bowed deeply and smiled at Saradoc.
"Thank you," the sleepy hobbit replied, his gratitude obvious.
Koda whined, slipping out of the door and looking up at Kíli.
"Yes, you can come with us," Kíli nodded, stroking the wolf's ears and nuzzling his nose. In return, Koda licked him excitedly.
Bilbo winced. "Don't let him do that, Kíli, you don't know where he's been."
Koda huffed, and licked Kíli again for good measure.
Kíli looked at Thorin. "It is alright if they come with us, isn't it?"
"As long as they're well behaved and do not climb on the tables or benches," Thorin eyed the wolves warily.
"They won't," Kíli promised, looking from Koda to Luno to Lani. "Will you?"
All three wolves shook their heads, and Thorin's eyes bulged. "They understand you."
Lani stared at the king and snarled slightly.
"Hey," Kíli frowned. "Be nice. He's my uncle."
The proud wolf huffed and began to trot down the hall towards the Tooks' rooms.
"She'll come to like you eventually," Kíli promised his bemused uncle, and then he set off after her.
It was Ellie who opened the door with flustered red cheeks and her arms wrapped tightly around her dressing gown. "Hello…"
"Would you like to come down to breakfast, or would you like to come later with the Brandybucks? It's entirely your choice." Dís smiled.
"Uh, I think that later would best suit us, if you please," she smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.
"Are you alright?" Kíli frowned, stepping forward. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Really, Kíli, we're fine," she promised. "I'm just having one of those mornings."
Dís recognised the look Ellie sent her instantly. "Ah, I see. Well, would you like us to take the children off your hands?"
"Thank you, but they're not dressed and only Vinca's awake at the moment."
"Very well, let us know if we can do anything for you. Kyrri over there is going to take the Brandybucks down when it suits them, I'm sure he'll bring you too."
"Thank you," Ellie smiled.
"There's something wrong," Kíli worried as they walked away, trusting that Bofur and Nori could make their own way down to the kitchens. "I saw it in her eyes, something's wrong."
"There's nothing wrong, Kíli," Dís assured him. "I promise."
"No, no, there's something-"
"Kíli, Ellie is experiencing an inconvenience that is an integral part of being female. A little patience and empathy on your part will go a long way."
Kíli's eyes lit up with understanding and he blushed. "Oh…"
"I don't understand…" Frodo pouted.
Bilbo patted him on the head. "I'll tell you when you're older."
"It never fails to amuse me… the prude nature of hobbits. And dwobbits." Fíli smirked.
"Dwobbits?" frowned Thorin.
"Yes, Kíli's a dwobbit," Frodo nodded wisely. "Wait, what about Bragi and Soren and Alfr?"
"They're living opposite Bombur and his family," Thorin informed the child. "He will make sure that they get to breakfast without getting lost."
Frodo nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. The boy was quite for a while, his eyes opening ever wider to try and take in the sights around him. If his hand was not safely tucked away in Dís', he might have fallen off the edge of a walkway before he even made it to breakfast.
It was not too long before they found themselves in the breakfast hall, and Dís' stomach rumbled at the wonderful aromas. The system worked akin to a buffet, and soon the six were seated at the farthest table with plates full of steaming food. Kíli slipped another two plates down to the floor, and the wolves feasted on bacon, sausages and eggs.
"Frodo…" Bilbo sighed. "Eat your tomatoes too please."
The child crinkled up his nose. "I don't like them."
"They'll put hair on your feet."
"I've already got hair on my feet."
"Frodo…"
"Please, Uncle Bilbo, please don't make me eat them!"
"Frodo, I said eat your tomatoes. Please, eat your tomatoes."
Dís watched the exchange with a wry smile. Bilbo made a kind, gentle and playful parent, but he was by no means lenient. Then again, he did manage to raise a dwarfling.
Thorin reached for the plate. "May I?"
Frodo eyed the king warily. "Will you give it back?"
"Frodo," Bilbo warned, but Thorin was already smiling.
"I swear it."
Bilbo nodded at Thorin and the dwarf took Frodo's plate. From that moment, the boy's eyes were glued to his meal, and it was rather amusing to see the intensity of his gaze. Dís' smile grew as her brother reached out to take a sugar pot, sprinkling a little over the tomatoes.
"Here," said the king, placing the hobbit's meal back in front of him. "Try that."
Frodo stabbed suspiciously at the tomato, and then slowly put a little bit on his fork and brought it before his mouth. Dís had to hold back a laugh as Frodo screwed up his nose, closed his eyes and put his fork in his mouth.
All eyes were on him as he chewed, and then swallowed. Then he sighed. "Well, it's not too disgusting now… Thank you Thorin!"
"You're most welcome," Thorin smiled, and after that Frodo ate all of his tomatoes.
Dís smiled as Fíli began to tease his brother about something or the other. It felt so good, so good to be among family in a safe place again. They sat there talking for almost an hour, and Dís watched her brother with pride. She could see how hard Thorin was trying to get on with Frodo, and the other hobbits. She could see how hard he was trying to be a better brother, uncle, king…
Despite how stubborn, ignorant, idiotic, greedy, selfish, angry, and downright foolish her brother could be – and often was! – Dís loved him dearly, and she appreciated his efforts more than she could ever hope to put into words.
Then, across the room, someone caught Dís' eye.
"Excuse me," she said in the next lull of the conversation. "I'll see you all later-"
"Where're you going?" Frodo frowned from across the table.
"Just to speak to someone," she smiled.
"But…" Frodo looked down at his hands. "I haven't…"
"What's wrong, Frodo?" Dís leant forward when the child did not respond. "Frodo, madtith, what is it?"
Frodo bit his lip and met her eyes. "Well, I… I've missed you!"
"Missed me?" she blinked. "Frodo, we've been travelling together for months."
"With other people," Frodo's eyes flickered down again as he protested. "And… and I know that there was lots happening, and lots of bad things and you spent a lot of time with Vinca which is good and it's good and it's fine, but…"
Dís' heart sank. "I haven't been spending any time with you, have I?"
This was not a simple case of a child seeking attention – this was a case of a displaced orphan feeling cut off and forsaken, and seemingly feeling guilty for feeling cut off and forsaken.
Frodo shook his head. "And I know you're busy, but I hoped… I thought when you weren't…"
"I'll tell you what," Dís smiled. "I'll be back by lunch time and we'll go on a little quest of our own to whatever part of Erebor you choose. Just the two of us. Would that help?"
Frodo gasped. "Really?"
"Of course! If that's what you'd like to do, that's what we'll do," she swore. "I'll meet you in your room one hour after midday, sharp!"
Frodo beamed. "Thank you!"
"You're very welcome," Dís stood up. "I'll see you all later."
"See you later, Amad," Fíli and Kíli chimed in unison, while Thorin and Bilbo both nodded.
Dís brushed off her gown and strode across the hall to the one who had caught her eye.
"Hello, Elza."
"Lady Dís," the woman jumped, standing up quickly to curtsey. "Good morning."
"Please," Dís shook her head, though she took the formalities as a good sign. "There's no need for the lady or the curtsey. I was wondering if I could speak with you?"
"Of course," Elza gestured to the seat beside her and slowly sat back down. "Please, join me."
"Thank you," Dís sat down, pausing before she spoke. "I would like to apologise if I came across as rude or demeaning last night. That was not my intent."
"Oh, no, I understand completely," Elza said. "By Mahal… I'm afraid I'd be much worse should my brothers ever bring home a lass I've never met. Dwalin speaks of you often and fondly, and I've no doubt that you only have his best intentions at heart."
"I do," Dís agreed slowly. "So you have brothers?"
"Five of them," Elza nodded. "Two older, three younger."
"And your parents?"
"Dead, I'm afraid," Elza sighed. "For nearly eighty years now."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you… It was difficult at first, Daren was too young to understand and Darben and Dalen were not much older. Neither was I, for that matter."
"Darben?" Dís frowned slightly. "Is he a guard?"
Elza nodded, a fond smile lighting her face. "Yes, he is."
"I think I met him this morning," Dís recalled.
"He was on the night shift," Elza nodded. "He is usually posted outside the royal wing, so you may well have seen him."
"You must be proud of him."
"I am…"
"I recognise that tone," Dís could not help but smile slightly. "You worry about him."
"Constantly," Elza gave a wry smile of her own. "Darben is a wonderful guard – loyal and brave and skilled, but the number of times he and the others have come home with cuts and scrapes and bruises… I learnt to play the role of healer a long time ago…"
"Aye," Dís shook her head and glanced over to Thorin. "That I can relate to."
Elza smiled. "Brothers… you can't live with them, but would hate to live without them."
Dís nodded, her smile fading at the thought of Frerin. "No… pray that you never have to live without them."
Elza's gaze sharpened a little, and then her face fell. "Oh, I am sorry, Dís, I did not think before I spoke…"
"Ah, it was a long time ago now…" Dís stared at the table.
"Still…" Elza shook her head. "I cannot imagine it."
"Don't," Dís advised her. "Do not try. If it comes to pass that you must face the loss of a brother it will surpass any pain you could imagine, so there's no point of torturing yourself in the meantime. But let us not speak of such things. You mentioned last night that your brothers are miners and guards…"
"Yes," Elza nodded. "Darben and Dastan are the guards. The others are helping with the opening of the mines. As it stands, I'm helping to repair the Diamond Ballroom. There is much to be done there."
Faint memories of balls and parties stirred in Dís' mind and she nodded. So, Elza was not afraid of hard work. That was good… "I can imagine… That was always one of my favourite rooms…"
"And Balin's, I believe," Elza nodded. "It was he who found it, and he is overseeing our work."
"That does not surprise me… Balin has always appreciated a good dance. So has Dwalin, for that matter. They grew up dancing – their mother was a wonderful dancer. Even after Erebor fell, Elina would dance at dusk every day. She kept our spirits up. It was she who taught Dwalin to fight."
Elza frowned. "Really? I thought he learnt from his father?"
"Oh, he did, but only after Elina had taught him the basics. You see, Dwalin had two left feet when he was a child. He was clumsier than a drunken kitten. Fundin despaired that he would never learn, though I remember that he took care never to say it in front of Dwalin. Then, one day Elina bid her brother play his flute, and she took Dwalin and turned the basics of fighting into a dance. In one evening, Dwalin mastered every basic position and three different sword strikes. She taught me, too, though Balin and my brothers were already somewhat capable of wielding a blade. Then, Fundin began to work with her. They had a wonderful partnership, and it extended to teaching us."
"So Dwalin was a dancer before he was a fighter?" Elza's eyes were sparkling.
"He was," Dís nodded. "If you watch carefully you can still see it when he duels."
"I will look out for that, when he is allowed to duel again."
Dís snorted. "Oh, I'm glad I was not the one to tell him that he could not duel…"
"You should be," Elza gave a mock shudder. "It was a trying time for all of us with hearing."
Dís laughed aloud. "Ah… I can imagine. But still… when he has a little more strength I have no doubt he will ask you to dance."
Elza blushed. "Well… actually, I can't dance."
"Oh?"
"I never learnt," Elza shrugged, looking rather embarrassed.
"Then I have no doubt that Dwalin will teach you," said Dís. "It is in his blood."
"That's one of the things I love about him…" Elza smiled shyly. "There's more to him than meets the eye – and much of it is quite the opposite from what you'd expect."
Dís stared at Elza. "So you do love him."
Elza nodded slowly. "I do. Very much."
"Good," Dís took a deep breath. "I hope you do, because if you're leading my cousin along I swear to Mahal himself I will destroy you."
Elza nodded once more. "As I would expect. I love Dwalin, Dís. I truly do. But I do not expect you to just believe me. I understand your suspicions and your worries. I only hope that you can come to believe me in time."
"I hope so too," Dís let herself smile.
Elza smiled back.
From there, the conversation began to lighten again, and soon Dís found herself enjoying Elza's company greatly. She could see why Dwalin liked her – the woman was beautiful but strong and a little rough around the edges. She was funny and personable, and she seemed rather intelligent, though Dís suspected that the other woman had not been educated to her full potential. In fact, she would be surprised if Elza had received that much of a formal education at all.
Eventually, Dís noticed the kitchen staff taking the platters away instead of resetting food, and she glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was past midday. She bid Elza farewell and set off for the royal wing again.
Dís had an appointment to keep.
I hope you enjoyed that chapter :D
I did put a reference (surprise surprise) in this chapter, so well done to anyone who gets it :D
Please, do review and let me know what you think, they mean so much to me!
