Gimli is 12 years older than Bilbo. Can you believe it?
Nûlukh - Moon
Bashagûn - Conquest Man
Sygny - New Victory
The tailor shop had been fun to start with, but now the brightly coloured silks, fine, glinting threads and shining, bejeweled buttons were boring Bilbo and his two cousins mad. They weren't allowed to stray away from the adults, Dis who was holding tightly onto the shoulders of her sons and Dwalin who held Bilbo's hand in one giant, meaty paw.
"We're bored, Uncle," Bilbo quietly whispered to Dwalin.
Dwalin clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Hang in there, laddie. We'll just wait for yer second cousin t'get his arse down here with his lad and we'll be able to get sorted."
Dis moved to hoist Kili onto a hip and gently entwined a lock of Fili's golden hair around her finger. "Aye, he's takin' far too long. Where is he?"
Her question was answered by the sudden bang of the door swinging open.
"Gloin!" said Dis, relieved. "At last! Our lads were goin' crazy with boredom."
"Forgive me, cousin. Neoma was trying to get his hair in some form of tidiness." Gloin stopped his explanation to chuckle. "You should have seen it, his hair kept sticking right up. He looked like Frerin when he played with them fireworks. You remember?"
"Aye," answered Dis with a smile. "I remember well." She placed Kili down and accepted a boisterous hug off Gloin's son, with a delighted chuckle and a, "How are you, my lad?"
Gimli, Gloin's son shared every characteristic with his father, but for his nose and his eyes which were a clear amber, fringed with long lashes. At only nineteen years of age, he still struck an impressive figure, nearing Fili in height despite their age difference of 20 years. Gimli had known Bilbo since he was a babe and still told proudly of the time he'd been trusted to hold his baby cousin. He was less protective of Bilbo, but no less loving and felt like a brother to him as did Fili and Kili.
"Has it been really, really boring?" Gimli asked by way of starting a conversation.
"Yes!" Kili declared, scrambling out of his mother's arms.
Fili grinned. "How've you been?"
"'m alright," Gimli answered. "I've never been here before. What's it like?"
"Dunno, we've only been in this room."
"There's only two rooms, beardlings," Gloin said, overhearing their conversation. "Here and the measuring room."
"Where's the tailor?" Dis asked.
"Here!"
The voice who had called belonged to a young Dwarrowdam. She had white-blonde hair pulled back into a single plait that reached to her lower back. Her eyes were dark and narrowed, the eyelids covered in a black powder. She wore an orange gown, intricately stitched across the bodice with a golden thread, countless amber gems flashing around the hem and waistline.
She was beautiful and finely dressed, but there was a coldness in her eyes as they flickered over Bilbo that made him not wish to look into them.
"Are you Miss Signy?"
"No," answered the tailor.
There was a brief silence broken by Fili asking, "what is your name, Ma'am?"
She ignored the question. Dis frowned. "My son asked you for your name."
"I do not answer to children."
Dwalin snorted, though Bilbo couldn't think what was amusing.
Dis took a step towards the tailor. "Perhaps you will answer to me. I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, and your princess. That makes my lad your prince and future king. Now, answer his question."
Giving Fili a glance, the tailor answered, "my name is Nûlukh, daughter of Sygny and Bashagûn."
Looking uncertainly at his mother, Fili offered a quiet word of thanks. Dis' eyes were also narrowed.
"Nûlukh, where is Miss Sygny?" Dis asked
"She is helping my brother with his wedding clothes," answered Nûlukh, giving a disapproving sniff as though she didn't think her mother's time should be spent doing such a thing. "May I help you?"
"You can indeed," Dis replied. "My son is having his Weapon Ceremony in several weeks."
Nûlukh merely flicked an eyebrow in interest.
"We're here to get this lot sorted for the day," Dis finished promptly.
Nûlukh shrugged. "Pick a fabric, and come find me. I'll be getting the tapes and needles out." With a swish of amber silk, she stalked off, leaving Dis to watch after her, her eyebrows nearly meeting her hairline.
"Lovely woman," murmured Gloin.
"She was a bitch," Gimli told his father solemnly.
Gloin sputtered. "Who taught you that word?!" he asked, aghast.
"Uncle Frerin did," Gimli answered. "What's wrong, Da? Is it rude?"
Dis was chortling, "Aye, you shouldn't say it, but it wasn't the wrong word to describe her."
"She wasn't pleasant, I know, but come along now," Dwalin ordered. "We have to be at the palace by 3."
"He is not wearing gold silk! He'll look a right fool." Dis snapped at Dwalin.
"But, he's the Golden Prince!"
"His hair's golden and that's good enough, I-"
"Mama?" Fili asked, pulling his mother's sleeve.
"Yes, love?"
"I like brown."
"Brown?" Dis repeated. "Very well, then. Brown's a strong colour and I'd prefer that to gold silk," she aimed a half-hearted glare at her cousin. "A brown leather surcoat would be nice..."
As she led Fili away, murmuring about various furs that could be used for the collar and inside the surcoat itself, Dwalin lifted Kili and Bilbo in his powerful, muscled arms, strolling around the fabrics. Kili suddenly gasped and shot out his arms to clasp hold of a deep blue velvet.
"You like blue, eh?" Dwalin asked, lightly ruffling Kili's hair.
Kili nodded. "Just like Uncle Thorin!"
Dwalin barked a laugh. "We'll remember to tell your mother that. You see a colour you want, Bilbo?"
"No, Uncle," was the answer.
Kili pulled at Bilbo's hand. "What's your favourite colour?"
"I don't know," Bilbo answered. "I like them all!"
"You like red," Kili remembered.
"D'you want red, lad?" Dwalin asked, peering down at Bilbo.
Bilbo thought about it for a short while before giving an affirmative nod.
"Let's see. The dark red or the light red?"
"The light red is pink!" Kili giggled.
"Well, it's a type of red, isn't it?"
"Hurry up, you two!" Dis said, grinning rather impishly their way.
"Go on and get your own colour chosen!"
"Already have." Dis answered. Deepening her voice, she said, "Come now, we have to be at the palace by 3."
"Dis, you might be pushing 140, but so help me..."
Dwalin's sentence was drowned out by the soft laughter of the Dwarven princess, who gave him a friendly smile before dissolving into more chortles.
"No pink," Bilbo decided, "red, please."
"Look at that," muttered Gloin. "Not even a decade old and he has better manners than his uncle."
"I happen to have excellent manners," Dwalin retorted. "You're just too dense to notice 'em!"
Gloin glared at Dwalin, but when he looked towards the two younglings encased in his cousin's burly arms, his dark eyes were twinkling. "Don't be like him, lads. Otherwise you'll end up with pathetic insults."
"I wasn't intending to insult you," Dwalin said, moving as Dis grabbed his arm. "I was simply stating a truth!"
Bilbo was last to get measured. Standing in his underclothes, Bilbo saw that Nûlukh's eyes were even darker when she stood close by. The way she looked at Bilbo made him feel like he was an inch tall. Perhaps it was just that she was having a bad day, Bilbo thought, and he tried to keep still for her, though he couldn't help yelping as the needle in her hand poked sharply at his arm.
Blood oozed its way out from the scratch and he instinctively went to Dwalin, knowing his uncle could fix anything. Behind him, the tailor sighed heavily.
"This is why things like him shouldn't live with us," Nûlukh muttered. "Delicate-skinned little Halfling."
Bilbo glanced up at Dwalin, who looked terrifyingly livid. "Halfling? What's a Halfling?"
"Nothing," Dis answered, giving Nûlukh an icy stare. "Come along, now."
As Dwalin lifted Bilbo to his shoulder, stopping only to glower once more at the tailor, Bilbo couldn't stop himself from wondering.
Just what was a Halfling?
I have discovered that it's pretty fun to create really horrible characters! God, I had the worst Writer's Block imaginable! But it's gone now, which is very good news indeed.
Hope it was enjoyed!
Love from Shania. xx
