I'm a little sad.

I don't mean to whine, but I'm not really writing this story for myself! I'd love some feedback...

Yeah...

~T.P.T.


Smile Like You Mean It

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter Five;; A Matter of Time

The Iron Hills were left barren when so many left for war with my brothers nine years ago. It was rather lonesome since most Dwarves my age had picked battle over family. But so was the nature of our people- battle was always on the mind. Jutta, Liadan and I still worked for Madam Morag, but the loss of her two sons, Toag and Taran, sent her into a spiraling depression which worsened with each new day. She died a year later. Since she had no living relatives left, she handed the key to Madam Morag's over to me- why me, of all Dwarves, I did not know. I did my best to run it as, hopefully, she saw fit. Our staff had been reduced to two when I took over the front desk, and it was nearly impossible for three to complete the orders needed, let alone two; it was time to find new hands.

Three new Dwarves applied for the job, and all three received one. First was Dwalin and Balin's mother, Lamonte- though growing old, she could still put up a fight, and was stubborn when it came to what she wanted to do. I was glad to have her wisdom- I knew little how to run a business.

Second was a very kind Dwarf by the name of Giama. I knew nothing about her, as she was born and raised else where and had only recently settled in the Iron Hills. But her stitch work was elegant, and she worked hard.

Lastly was Balfur, our little errand boy, who was often out getting material or threads from the market. Since he was still young he only worked from morning to afternoon, but the Dwarfling provided much needed assistance. I'd met his parents, Bombur and Bissula, only once or twice before hand, and they'd obviously raised a good son.

Unlike Thorin, Frerin, Dain, Dwalin, Balin, and other Dwarves his age, Airili did not venture over the Misty Mountains to assist my father. He was no warrior, and that he knew. Instead, he continued with his archery school. He'd even given me a couple of lessons when I wasn't busy at Madam Morag's. Unfortunately, I'm no longer allowed lessons, as I nearly stuck an arrow right through old farmer Piran's prized milk cow.

But work continued and my friends dealt with the same sadness I did. As I had lost my grandfather to orcs, Airili and Jutta lost their uncle and Liadan her father. Sadness was not unusual in my shop, but with friendship we coped.

"Come now, Giama. Tell us about this dashing young Dwarf you met!" I overheard Lamonte say from the back room.

I tiptoed to the back, standing just outside the door as Giama began to speak.

"He.. he was short." She began in her thick, foreign accent, "Very rough-" She grunted and imitated him to the best of her abilities, "Very kind. Warrior."

"What did he look like?" Liadan pipped in, looking rather bored with her work.

"Wide. Big nose. Big forehead. Red beard. Ax-" Here she motioned to her back, "Short." She held her hand horizontally a few inches down her forehead.

"She wouldn't be talking about Gloin would she?" I chuckled from the door, causing Giama and Liadan to jump in their seats. There were few Firebeards among our people in the Iron Hills.

"Gloin his... name?" Giama looked confused.

"My nephew?" Lamonte sounded rather surprised, "I said dashing, Giama, not putrid."

"Sure sounds like him, doesn't it?" Jutta laughed from the corner, "We'll have to see when they come back-"

"If they come back..." Liadan muttered, eyes down as she sewed a shirt. Silence filled the room as the rest stopped working.

"Stop talking like that." I shot back with a glare, "We have to keep hoping. Hope is all we have left."

I left the room in a hurry to get away from Liadan, Jutta not too far behind me.

"I wish she wouldn't open her mouth." I growled under my breath to my friend, my fingers absentmindedly pulling my hair as I sat down in my seat, "Especially in front Lamonte. Her husband and sons are out there fighting! That's the last thing she wants so hear."

"Liadan just hasn't gotten over her fathers' death-" Jutta started to explain, fixing a mess of papers on the front desk.

"She's not the only one who's lost someone." I rebutted, my frustration growing. Liadan was too self-centered, "Your uncle, my grandfather..." I trailed off, not able to finish the sentence I began.

"Everyone copes with pain differently, Dissie." Jutta ran her fingers through my hair gently before returning to the back.

I rubbed my sleeves as a wave of goose flesh over came me. The feeling was all too familiar. I worried for my brothers and father, no matter their strength or talent with an ax. I worried about my cousins, about Balin, Dwalin and Fundin. I worried about them all. Our people didn't need any more death and destruction. Not after Erabor. Not after my mother-

I wrapped myself in a shawl, trying to keep the cold out of my bones. That's what made me so uncomfortable in the Iron Hills- it was always snowing, from summer to spring. There was hardly a sunny day, and more often than not, I was snowed in. Perhaps after this war we could find somewhere warmer to live.

The all too familiar tinkling drifted to my ears and I lifted my eyes to find not only Airili, but Thorin, Balin and Dwalin walking into my shop.

My shouts of happiness caught in my throat as I stumbled around the counter and flung myself at my brother and friends. I reached Balin first and pulled him into a hug. He held me for a while, the same old Dwarf who had a smile for everyone. As I moved on to Dwalin, I could feel the strength and solitude radiating off of him. Looking up at him, it occurred to me that this Dwarf who I'd held as a baby had fought in battles, had seen blood and murder. The lines around his eyes were testimony for that, and instead of a hug, I ruffled his Mohawk, which earned me a glower with a smile hidden behind it.

And lastly, I looked up at Thorin, a sigh on my lips. At one time I told myself I hated my brother, and I was sure he hated me. But looking into those sad, glassy eyes told me it was all a lie. I reached toward my snow covered brother and was surprised to find him holding me tightly a second later, leaning over as though a great burden held him down.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered in my ear. I thought he was apologizing for our past, for what he'd done to me, for how I'd acted to him.

"I'm sorry, too." I told him back, finding warmth in the comfort.

"Ma!" I pulled away to find Lamonte holding her sons close, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I'd never seen those two boys more happy then when they were in their mother's arms.

"Oh my boys..." I could hear her whisper to them, over and over.

Liadan had pushed her way through the reunion and out the door before I could say another word. I felt a pang of guilt, watching her go. Jutta appeared not far behind.

"Father?" She questioned Airili, worry eating at her eyes.

"At home with mother." Airili smiled, grabbing his sisters coat on the hook and tossing it to her. A beautiful grin lit up her face as she ran past us and out the door.

Our hope had paid off, and the rooms temperature seemed to raise as the smiles grew wider and wider. It was only a matter of time until they became frowns.

"Frerin!" I sucked in a gasp of air, shaking my head. How could I forget Frerin? I laughed to myself, "He must be lost in town. His sense of direction hasn't gotten better, has it Thorin?"

My brother did not smile, nor laugh. His sad eyes stayed fixed on me, staring as far into me as he could reach, and I found myself unable to look away.

"Thorin?"

"Frerin is dead." He said softly, his blue gray eyes leaving mine to stare into the wooden planks under our feet. He looked ashamed, "He fell in the Battle of Azanulbizar... I'm sorry, Dis. I-... I couldn't protect him."

I could feel my face move as I tried to find the words to say. I blinked, I shook my head, unable to comprehend.

"No." I laughed lightly, "He put you up to this. To think you, of all Dwarves, would go along with this!" My voice went up a few octaves with each word, "Alright, Frerin! Very funny!" I called, all eyes in the room focusing on me, "You know I don't like these games, Frerin!" I felt my chin begin to shake violently as I tried to keep everything in. My nose and eyes watered from the force of keeping my emotions bottles up. "Frerin..." Within a matter of seconds, my cheeks and neck were drenched from tears. My lips were salty as I tried to lick them away.

"Dis..." Thorin whispered, still unable to look me in the eyes.

"Tell me you're lying, Thorin!" I took his bearded chin in my hand and forced him to look at me, "Tell me, please!"

And as he looked back in my eyes, I could see every ounce of remorse and sadness disappear, only to be replaced with that familiar mask he wore.

"I'm not lying, Dis." He said, every previous emotion gone. He grabbed my hand and took it away from his face, his eyes never leaving mine, "He's gone."

I tried to breathe as my body convulsed with sobs. Thorin tried to hand me off to Airili- why would a brother want to comfort his crying sister?

"Get away from me!" I screamed, pushing both Dwarves away as I joggled to and out the door. A blizzard was starting, but I ignored it and pushed through the slush of mud and water. Snow flakes stuck to my damp cheeks, but I let them melt there. All around me I could hear the screams of women being told their husband and brothers were dead, children being told they'll never even meet their fathers. Even behind me through the open door I could hear Balin and Dwalin comforting their mother. Fundin had been lost to them. Toag and Taran had long been slain. Jutta's uncle Nilide and Liadan's father Drostan probably sat rotting in their graves as I sat in the snow and cried for Frerin.

"Was it not enough?" I screamed to the blizzard, my breath misting from my mouth and disappearing into the storm, "Were my mother and grandfather not enough? Did you need to take Frerin too, Mahal?!" I could feel my voice becoming more and more hoarse each second that passed as I screamed up to our creator.

I don't know how long I sat there in the snow. I had hoped that Mahal might take the snow and cover me in it to make me a stone so I did not feel pain. When I finally gave in to my exhaustion, I was sure I was going to die out in the snow.

I was very surprised to wake up laying in front of a crackling fire, a blanket covering me.

I stayed very still as I looked around what little I could see of the room without lifting my head. I shivered despite the warmth surrounding me.

When it appeared I was alone, I pushed myself up from the wooden floor with stiff muscles. The small room had a fire place, a small cushioned couch, one door at the far end of the room, two windows that were blurred with ice and snow, a few book shelves and a couple of pots and pans hanging by the fire.

My shawl hung on a rack near the fire, no doubt nearly dry. Had I been... kidnapped?

My heart began to beat very fast as I searched around for some sort of weapon or way out. I grabbed the closest frying plan and held the heavy object in my hands. This would have to do.

I froze as I heard footsteps coming close to the door. It sounded like they were coming up stairs, meaning this was most like a second story room- the windows were out question. In a flash I tossed the frying pan on the couch, grabbed my shawl from the rack and the pillows from the couch, stuffed them under the blanket I had previously been under, once more grabbed the frying pan and retreated to the wall next to the door.

I held my breath as the wooden door swung slowly open and stopped mere inches from my face with a creak. I waited for my kidnapper to walk a few paces before I slowly sidestepped from behind the door. Whoever he was, he had his blonde hair up in a pony tail, was rather stout for a Dwarf, wore a long sleeved maroon shirt, dark pants and large black boots. I followed a few paces behind, making my footsteps as silent as possible. I had considered just running out the door and down the stairs, but what if he followed me? I had to make sure he wouldn't.

Just as he began to reach for the blanket, I brought the frying pan up, praying to Mahal to give me strength.

"Dis?" The Dwarf muttered, when he'd lifted the sheet off the pillows and shawl.

"Airili!" I breathed, the pan falling to the ground with a sharp clang as I hugged him around the middle.

He tried to twist himself around at the sound of the pan, but was unable to as I held him there, "What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd been kidnapped." I gasped, trying to regain my breath. My throat was unbelievably dry.

"Kidnapped?" Airili sounded incredulous as he finally pulled himself from me, his fingers wrapping around my upper arms as he steadied my wobbly legs, "...Kidnapped?"

"I don't know what I was thinking!" I cried out, getting free of his grip and dropping to the couch with an exasperated huff, "One second I'm praying to Mahal to kill me, and the next I'm here! What was I supposed to think?!"

"Kill you?" Airili asked as he crouched in front of me, his large hands resting on my knees, "Why would you wish for something like that?"

"I know it's foolish, I just..." I stopped in my words, looking past his hazel eyes and into the fire, "I waited years to see my brother... Years! I never got to say good bye to him. To any of them, Airili. And my mother-" I couldn't continue, and instead, leaned my forehead against his and cried. I didn't cry long, but during the time I had, Airili had hardly moved and crouched there, holding my hands until I had recovered.

"I'm sorry to burden you..." I whispered, a small laugh coming from the back of the throat, "From the first day I met you."

"Dis." I glanced up, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, "You've never been a burden to me."


You're looking for a way out
I can feel it
Come on, show me where it hurts
Maybe I can heal it

Your feelings are your own
Now you keep 'em under lock and key
You got me drivin' through the streets
For an answer to the mystery


Semi-miserable, semi-funny, semi-fluffy. A little bit of everything for everyone.

Read and review...

By the way- Pethor: KILLED YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER.

Okay, now that that's out of my system, until next time!

(For anyone this may concern- I'm going to Europe from the first of July to the nineteenth... so no updates till afterwards!)

~T.P.T.

P.S. This puts us about one third of the way through this Fanfiction! Woot.