A Promise

Chapter Three: Long Live The King

It had been Vili who took up arms when Thorin had charged at the pale Orc. Vili, with the same strength behind each slash of his blades that had caught Thorin's eye in the mines all those years ago. When Azog had knocked him off a short drop and his sword arm burned from a bruising impact on his shoulder, Vili had been the one to swing at the pale Orc without hesitation. His blow may have been blocked but it was a good enough distraction, for as Azog turned to swing at his new attacker, Thorin had grasped his weapon again and tried to heave himself to his feet.

That had been where it went wrong. They were but dwarves, after all. And a Gundabad orc towered far above them. Just how his brother-in-law was disarmed, Thorin did not see. But he saw how he was lifted by the hair, how a dagger pulled from his boot in desperation was flung at the orc's left eye, scarring it forever.
Run, Vili had shouted to him, but Thorin didn't move. He did not know if he could. When the orcish blade was driven through his friend's torso, and he was discarded like rotten meat, Thorin heard a sound leave his own throat that he did not recognize.

Later, when his blade had found its brutal mark, and Azog was pulled back within the mines by his armies, Thorin dropped to his knees at his friends' side to see he was still clinging to life. Vili's chest was heaving frantically, and he clutched onto Thorin's arms with an an intensity he was all too familiar with. The love of his little sister's life was dying. Drowning in his blood as it filled his lungs. So Thorin held him and whispered prayers in Khuzdul for what felt like hours when Vili had mere minutes left on this earth.
"Dis." He grits out. Thorin felt his jaw clench when he saw how red his teeth were now. He nodded, not needing him to finish.
"She knows." He mumbled, still keeping a tight grip on him to steady the fallen warrior. "She knows, Vee."

It was then that Thorin noticed the fact Vili's beads were missing. Intricate decorative pieces of silver he wore in his braided mustache, a gift from Thorin's father on their wedding day. Somewhere in his heart, he knew where they were. Vili had known as well as he had that this was futile. But Thorin had been too stubborn to admit it.
Vili shakily reached an arm towards the back of his head, his fingers brushing against the silver clasp that was keeping a few locks of his hair pinned off his face. Thorin's heart still thundered in his chest as he nodded quickly. If the beads were for his eldest, this dying wish made sense.
"For Kili?" He spoke for him and Vili nodded in relief, coughing again. His hands, calloused and bloody, gripped at Thorin's when he touched his forehead against his.
"I'll see it done. I will."
"My boys..." Vili's chest heaved again and his face scrunched up in pain as he struggled for breath. "Thorin, m-my boys—"
"Your boys will want for nothing, Vili." Thorin had whispered to him, not moving his forehead. "I won't let a single thing hurt them. Not a single thing. I swear in Durin's name, brother."
"...They're good boys, really. Good boys."
"Vili."
His brother-in-law, his friend, took another breath to speak again, but no voice was ever put to it. It was a breath that was never exhaled.

"Vili?"

It had snowed again.

That morning Fili had awoken to the sound of a few dwarves muttering to one another in exertion as they shoveled the snow aside to allow for carts and carriages to trundle past. They were older members of their settlement with white beards and crooked postures which likely added to their displeasure at the day's work. All the younger dwarf men had been sent off nearly three weeks prior, and Ered Luin was beginning to notice the absence.

Amad had been stressed since Adad had left. At first, Fili had assumed she simply missed him as much as he did until Gimli had pointed out to him that she was the only grown member of the royal line left behind. His great-grandfather Thror, his grandfather and both of his Uncles had followed their duties, leaving all the sums, all the preparations for winter and all the harvest takings to Dis.