I've gotten to that point where I'm desperate for feedback. Come on, you don't even have to say that it's good! Just give me an honest opinion and I'll leave all of you alone.
I can't tell if people are just looking for sappy love stories, or if my writing really sucks.
Review and tell me!
~T.P.T.
Smile Like You Mean It
The Tragic Tale of Dis
Chapter Four;; I Feel It In My Bones
It was amazing so many Dwarves survived Smaug's attack on Erabor. My eyes hadn't deceived me when I saw hundreds of Dwarves travelling to the Iron Hills with us. The road was cold and treacherous, but I had been unconscious for most of it.
We had been closer than I guessed when I first awoke and Thorin attacked me, which would explain Airili and Jutta's appearance. My father and grandfather scouted ahead of our group, sending food and comfort from King Grór's people- most of whom had close family living in Erabor. Jutta and Airili found us with their father and uncle, who provided me with medicine and my brothers with food.
Jutta kept true to her word, and never took her eyes off of me on the journey back.
But that was twenty years ago. My mental and physical wounds had healed, but both left very visible scars. The skin on my right arm took many months to heal completely, and even now the skin was much lighter than the rest of my body, and was extremely sensitive.
Thorin's attitude toward me worsened steadily our first few years in the Iron Hills, and as much as I wanted to apologize, I couldn't. He couldn't put the blame of our mothers' death entirely on my shoulders.
Even the thought of my mothers' death left me breathless. I'd had many nightmares of her burning in Smaug's flames after we'd escaped to the Iron Hills, and no matter what I did, I'd see her die right before me- over and over. As much as I tried to hide my nightmares from the people I loved, I knew they worried for me. I might have been a very open, friendly Dwarfling back at Erabor, but those days had passed. I became a loner, surrounded, as I was, by friends. It took me many years to forgive myself, and my brother, but by then both Frerin and Thorin had left the Iron Hills to find our grandfather and father. Last I heard, they'd made a settlement far over the Misty Mountains, in the heart of Dunland. And as much as I wished to see my brother, grandfather and father again, I couldn't bring myself to face Thorin. It had taken me this long to be happy, and I wasn't ready tear the stitches of old wounds.
It had been nineteen years since I last saw my father and grandfather, and fifteen since Frerin and Thorin left to join them. Since I showed no signs of joining my immediate family, I was left in the care of my great uncle, King Grór, and his son Náin. Náin's wife, Forba, was very kind, but preferred to gush over her son, Dáin, rather than watch over me. I had no problem with this, and instead spent most of my time with Airili, Jutta, Balin, and his new brother Dwalin, as well as young Dáin and a friend of his, Liadan, who was also a Dwarf-girl. Our odd-ball group had an age span that ranged from twenty five to three, which often made for an odd site- the seven of us trampling around the Iron Hills in search of an adventure. More than often I was left with baby Dwalin as the others' disappeared to cause mischief.
But now, as I reached age thirty, Dwalin- who had grown into a strong fellow of eighteen -no longer required a baby sitter, and the games and trouble we got ourselves into was far behind us as most of us stood on the threshold of adulthood. Young Airili, who was thirty seven, had his own school house where he taught Dwarves of all ages how to use a bow and arrow. While it was not customary for Dwarves to use such weaponry, over the years arrows became very useful in orc battles, and bows became the most sought after weapon for some Dwarf warriors. Airili, though not a warrior of great legend, could use the bow and arrow skillfully, and had been asked many a time to teach others.
Balin and Dwalin left not long after Dwalin became eighteen to join their father, Fundin, in the lands of Dunland with my grandfather. I knew little of what they had planned as little to no word reached my ears.
Dáin was hardly seen any more, as the young twenty three year old was being taught how to rule by his grandfather. When we did see him, however, he often spoke most animatedly of the battle training he was receiving.
As for Jutta, Liadan and I, we all worked in the same clothing store under Madam Morag, a Dwarf woman with an iron fist and hooked nose. Her gray beard trailed all the way down to the floor and was often trampled on by the three of us, much to her displeasure. The old Dwarf could be cruel at times, but I could tell she cared for us. Each of the dresses we wore were given to us completely free of charge by Madam Morag after our fifth year of working for her.
"Dis?"
I glanced up from my needle to find both Jutta and Liadan staring at me curiously.
Jutta's beard had grown in very quickly since I first met her, and half of her long blonde locks had been braided and curled on the sides of her head, while the other curly half rested down her back. Liadan, on the other hand, was very dark skinned for a Dwarf, with bright green eyes and two separate hair colors- some of it was black while the rest was dark brown. All of her unusual hair was braided very finely on the top of her head, which all split into three separate braids that rested on her back and shoulders. Both were very beautiful in comparison to me.
"What?" I mumbled, stopping my work.
"You've been... sitting there, Dis. You haven't been working." Liadan told me, concerned weighing her brown down.
I looked down and, sure enough, the dress I was working on hadn't changed since I sat down to work on in. Liadan and Jutta were almost finished with their portions.
"Right." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus, "I'm just... distracted."
"I'll say." Jutta laughed halfheartedly, setting her own dress aside, "Are you wondering about your brothers?"
"Yes..." I murmured, unable to meet her gaze. This wasn't the first time we had this conversation had started, and it was not to be the last, of that I was sure, "I wish they would just send me some letter or sign. For all I know, they could be dead."
"Don't say that." Liadan scolded with a huff, "We'd know if that happened. Don't wish bad luck on them."
"I don't, it's just... I feel uneasy. Sick." I searched for the right words, "I feel it in my bones."
"You're just worrying yourself, Dis." Jutta reassured, her warm hand covering mine comfortingly.
"Less talk, more sewing girls!" Madam Morag called from the front of the store where dresses hung from the tall ceiling and wooden mannequins modeled our work.
"Old hag." I caught Liadan mutter under her breath as we got back to work. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. Liadan wasn't as accepting of Madam Morag's behavior as Jutta and I were, and she was risking our jobs.
We had only gone back to working for a few moments before the front door bell tinkled, signalling a new customer.
"Welcome to Madam Morag's, how may I-" The old Dwarfs gushing voice paused mid-sentence and was replaced with her old tone, "Oh, it's you. They're in the back."
I glanced over my shoulder as heavy footsteps approached the back room.
Airili stopped at the door way, wearing a number of different, mismatched clothes. A green scarf was wrapped over his head and around his neck to keep out the winter cold and snow. The young Dwarf shook the scarf from his head and hundreds of tiny snowflakes flew to the ground and melted almost on impact.
"Brother." Jutta hadn't even bothered to look up from her work, already accustomed to the sound of her brothers footsteps.
"Good afternoon, Airili." I said with a small smile, setting my dress and tools on an already cluttered table.
"Airili!" Liadan jumped from her stool, dress and all falling to the floor, and skipped over to him, "What brings you here?"
I winched inwardly. Liadan was far too interested in him.
"News." Airili looked a little shocked at her sudden change of behavior. His hazel eyes fell on me, "A group from Dunland as here."
I stood slowly, words falling apart as I tried to form them.
"Dunland?" I paused; had my wish been answered? Were they back?, "Is my father-?"
"I don't know who's here, or if we even know any of them." Airili interrupted with a shake of his head.
I couldn't wait another moment. I pushed my way between Airili and Liadan, an awkward tension falling over me for a brief moment. I walked toward where Madam Morag sat behind the reception desk, fiddling with the dirty end of her long braided beard.
"Madam Morag-" I began, ready to fall to my knees and beg the old woman to let me leave for a few minutes and find some news.
"Just go, lassie." The old Dwarf rolled her brown eyes, a small smirk forming on her wrinkly face, "Business is slow today. All of you youn'uns be off, you hear?" She called the last part into the back.
I knew I should have waited, but I grabbed my cloak, had it tied, pulled the hood over my hair and was out of the door before any of my friends had reached the front room.
I swerved in front of and around merchants and children as I raced through the puzzling streets toward the town center in front of the castle of Grór. Few Dwarves seemed to be interested in the happenings there, or perhaps they just hadn't heard the news.
I wadded through the thick snow, up and and down stairs, seemingly lost in the maze of buildings until at last I reached the center. The Iron Hills center was a large, circular stone courtyard in front of the castle where the king lived, and in the center sat a beautiful fountain of marble and stone, though the water was frozen over from the temperature.
I stood there shivering, looking this way and that for any familiar faces.
"Do you see anyone?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin as Airili, Jutta and Liadan appeared at my side.
"N-no." I mumbled, my nose stuffed from the cold, "No one- Balin!"
I raced forward into the stone circle, making a beeline straight for the familiar brown head and large nose. Before he could answer, I flung my arms around his ever growing torso and squeezed him tight.
"Augh!" We both stumbled back before he regained his footing, his hands on my shoulders as he pushed my back to get a good look at me, "Dis!"
"Look at you!" I exclaimed, "Your beard!"
It had only been a few months since he and Dwalin left to join their father, but Balin's brown beard had grown considerably since then.
"Dis!"
Before I could react, Dwalin had appeared and lifted me from the ground, having no trouble with my small size.
"Oh Dwalin! Your... your head!" I gasped. What had once been luscious long black locks had been transformed into a Mohawk.
"Do you like it?" The young Dwarf asked, his blue eyes shining happily.
"It's... different!" I chuckled, running my hand through it.
Airili, Jutta and Liadan had gathered around Balin by then and were asking many questions about the rest of the world and what he had seen. I'd have to get a retelling later, because I needed to find my father.
After Dwalin had joined the long separated group, I pushed through the throng of tall Dwarves in search of the wavy black hair of my father. At last I spotted it not far from the fountain. A large smile formed from cheek to cheek as I walked toward my father, hardly able to contain my joy. Nineteen years and I'd finally get to see him again.
Before I could sneak up on him, he turned.
My smile fell into a frown and my stomach knotted. My father didn't stand before me- Thorin did. From behind, the two looked almost indistinguishable.
I met my brothers icy blue gaze calmly, holding back the years of turmoil.
"Thorin." I said smoothly, my hands uneasily picking at my skirt.
"Dis?" Thorin said, a calculating look coming to his eyes. Did he... not recognize me?
"Dis!" Frerin picked me up from behind, holding me aloft for a few seconds before setting me back down. I turned to look at my brother, a laugh forming in my mouth. My brother seemed to hardly age a day since leaving, minus his height and the scruffy red beard that had filled out since fifteen years ago.
I held my brother in a hug for a few moments, my heart beating painfully. I'd missed him so much.
"Where's Airili? I want to see if his beard's bigger than mine!" Frerin looked around anxiously, a mischievous gleam beginning in his eyes. Since the two were only a couple years a part, they often compared beard sizes before Frerin. Fifteen years ago my brother was unbeatable, but now? It might be called a tie.
"Last I saw him he was over by Balin and Dwalin!" I called after him- he hadn't bothered to wait for an answer.
"Dis." My brothers cold voice froze my gut. I turned back to him, keeping a rather blank stare on my face.
"Grandfather's dead."
I felt the cold wind catch in my throat, choking me with the fresh air.
"Dead?" I breathed quietly, loosing the face I had put up against my brother.
"Murdered." Thorin spat, "He went to Moria with Nar. He was beheaded and branded by a pale orc with the name of Azog. Father sent out a request for as many able bodied Dwarves to retake Moria from the scum. That's why we're here."
Most of the words were lost or jumbled in my head as I tried to put the sentence together.
"You're leaving again?" I whispered. Seeing Frerin made me hopeful that they'd stay.
"What? Would you rather have our grandfather die for nothing like our mother?" Thorin said icily.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, I raised my left hand and slapped Thorin. Cold tears stung at my cheeks. This is why I hadn't left.
Shock riddled Thorin face, but it was quickly replaced by rage. His arm reached for me, but was stopped by another hand.
"Thorin." Airili now stood between Thorin and me.
Hot words were exchanged between the two, but I ignored them and instead leaned into my friends' back, dampening his cloak with my tears each passing second. In a few moments, he turned and held his arms around me, his voice whispering soothing words in my ear before Jutta once again received me. I held the tears in as I tore from my friends and went back to the castle. No one hindered me as I flew down the corridors and up the stairs to my room.
My dreams for the next few months were riddled with fire and death. I became too afraid to sleep- I feared the dragons fire would consume me along with my mother next time I slept. Jutta often spent the night next to me in the castle, warding away my fears if I awoke in the middle of the night.
I did not say goodbye to my brothers, or to Nain or Dain, or even Balin and Dwalin. They all left to assist my father the next morning. I would not see most of them for another nine years.
I'm sure you've got it all figured out
Things haven't been easy between me and you
I guess that there are things that you can't
A little bit of a happier chapter, yes? Well.. not the happiest, but happier.
Please review! I need to know what people think of this! I don't want to write this story for my own pleasure!
Oh hey, I have a question for you- would you like this upcoming battle to follow the book or the movie? Should Dain steal the spotlight, kill Azog and avenge his father, or should Thorin think he murders Azog? Who do you think deserves the glory more?
~T.P.T.
