Jetlag is a killer. Hi there, yes it's me; I'm back and have updated. Sorry for the long wait but I didn't have access to my laptop for two weeks and when I got back I was all but dead from the twenty-three hour long plane trip (*shudder*). Here's the next chapter in this fic though it is probably not as good as I would like. The next few chapters might take a while too as I sort of need to figure out how to get this story to go where I want it to go properly. Also, visit my other stories if you haven't already, especially my one shots, and LEAVE REVIEWS. Even if they are just pointers on what I could fix (besides the obvious). Any and all reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: Show me you care

The day was a long one with Dis having to pick up after her two wildly exuberant sons, make them all a small lunch, do several tedious chores around the house, and a small batch of sewing to finish it all off. She was more or less exhausted as she sat in the chair she so often occupied embroidering a grouping of dainty little flowers on a piece of cloth she could sell at the markets to help her brother bring in some income. It did not earn a lot but enough that it could contribute to the cost of buying things for the boys. The rest Dis put away in case of a rainy day of which would soon very abruptly arrive.

Now was about the only alone time that the princess of Durin would be likely to receive that day for both Fili and Kili were worn out from their antics earlier on. She felt a small sense of relief over that for at times she felt she simply did not have the strength or stamina to keep up with them. It had always been a two person job and they had both been more easily controlled by their father who had some understanding of their strange, youthful desires being a small boy once himself. But he was now gone and she felt strangely empty. Still, having her boys was a great comfort, especially since Fili had inherited many traits from his father and Kili had inherited his eyes. Between the two of them they managed to mask that gap in her heart and drag her from her depressing thoughts.

It was at that moment that the door was thrown open by a very tall and burly dwarf, one that Dis did not instantly recognised. So it was only when the dwarf stepped forward that she lowered the raised pair of scissors in her hands. Dwalin grunted as he helped lead Thorin towards a nearby chair.

"Some welcome," she heard him muttering under his breath. Dis ignored this comment as she hurriedly flew to her brother's side.

"What's wrong with him?" she gasped mindful of the sleeping children nearby. Dwalin's mouth was set in a straight line as he sent his friend a look that showed he was displeased about something.

"Your brother here has been working himself too hard," the warrior answered turning to face the dwarfish woman, "And so was not at full alertness when in the forges today. An anvil almost fell on top of him. As it was, he landed rather hard in the crates and injured his leg, thus the limping. Though that would have been my fault," Dwalin told her with a sheepish expression spreading a little way across his face, "I pushed him too hard."

"Balin insisted that I return home for the day," Thorin spoke up from the couch, sounding a cross between displeased and detached. Dis sent him a look of her own.

"And he was right to. You are the leader of our people and it would do us no good to lose you now, it would do them no good just as it never will," she said, gesturing towards where her sons were currently stationed. Dwalin looked between the two siblings before tipping his head slightly and excusing himself to walk back to the forges. He promised to keep an eye on things along with Balin and, at Thorin's express wishes, inform the dark haired dwarf if anything went wrong. Dis knew, however, that the warrior would unlikely hold up to this promise. It was a relief to know someone else was looking out for her sometimes self-destructive brother.

The woman bustled around the kitchen for a bit before placing a small bowl of soup in front of her brother.

"Eat," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument, "And don't try to get out of it for I won't let you up until you eat." To reiterate this point, she folded her arms menacingly across her chest as she stood in front of him.

Thorin started up at her for a second before raising the half-filled spoon to his lips. He tipped the contents into his mouth. He swallowed. Dis smiled almost darkly as he gazed back up at her with smoky-blue eyes, almost as if he was pleading for her not to make him go through with this.

"And now you have only about fifty more half spoons to go," she said, taking a strange joy in forcing her older brother who was usually so protective to do something. But forcing him to eat; it was more than a little concerning. So she maintained her vigil and under her watchful eye Thorin consumed several more spoonfuls before letting the instrument clatter in the bowl. Dis closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten before opening them again. "Why?" was all she said.

"I cannot help it if I am not hungry," he replied. Again Dis regained her self-control before answering levelly.

"You haven't been hungry for days," she shot back at a him. Thorin did not meet her eyes. "Look, it is just like after the disappearance of our father all over again. You are withdrawing into yourself, working too hard and you know it."

"What else am I supposed to do?" he asked softly, "I must look after this family. You are all I have left." Dis raised an eyebrow at him, untouched by his words.

"And how are you going to do that?" she sneered, "By getting yourself killed at the forges because you are not paying attention? Or ignoring me and my boys when you are either too tired or too focused to do anything or say anything to us? For once I wish you would show me you care because, whatever that is, it isn't caring."

The two stared at each other for a time, blue eyes meeting blue as they read deep into each other's eyes or at least tried to. Dis was finding it a particularly hard task to complete.

"If you have nothing to say then I am going to get some rest," she finally stated, waited a few moments before walking disappointedly to her room when her brother did not speak up.

Closing the door quietly behind her she laid herself down gracefully on her bed. The small nap would only be ten or so minutes; not long at all and she was sure that the movement of the sun towards her window and the loud playing of her two sons would be more than enough to wake her anyway. It wasn't until after she closed her eyes that she realised how tired she was and when she finally reopened them a small shaft of moonlight was streaming through the window in her room.

What the…?

Dis sat up, the covers sliding off her shoulders as she tried to peer through the drawn curtains. She did not remembered closing them or pulling the bed cloths over herself either.

Strange.

Standing the dwarfish princess ghosted her way over to the door and opened it ever so slightly. The hallway was empty and long, dark shadows were cast over each corner within her line of sight.

Fili and Kili…

A small bubble of a thin sense of fear washed through her as well as that of anticipation. Both were quelled as she took in the sight of her two little ones entwined together yet again. Smiling she closed the door to their room and looked around for who or what might have accomplished all this. A quick glance towards the end of the hall showed Thorin's closed door with a thin strip of light underneath.

Walking towards her brother's room she smiled slightly to herself sure that he had taken the rest of the day off and spent it with his nephews. Drawing back, she prepared to enter to see if he was still awake. The dwarfish descent of Durin was not, however, and he snored softly into his pillow. Dis smiled again and returned the small favour he had performed for her before, drawing the covers up over his own shoulders.

Backing out she moved to the kitchen to sit and think, mulling over her brother's now peaceful face, no longer tired from that day. The wooden bowl next to her sat there dejectedly, almost as if it was waiting for her to clean it up. And she did, washing and drying the gloriously, gloriously empty bowl.

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