Saving Durin {Hobbit/Thorin}

Chapter 51: "Never have I ever," dwarf style

Chapter 51:

"Never have I ever," dwarf style

By the time the tears are shed, smiles formed, and news revealed, the funeral is fast approaching in the darkening day. Though the Lonely Mountain is often cloaked in darkness, the miniscule amount of light borne through the tunnels gives enough hint that the day is taking a descent into dusk. And so, the meeting is concluded with the order to change immediately and meet at the gate of Erebor for the funeral. Sunset is falling and we must grieve for those we lost.

Thorin and Balin go off by themselves, once again, with the final preparations of the funeral and changing into nicer wares. Bilbo leads me back to my original room, knowing full well that I would get lost if left to my own devices. After a small smile of parting, I escape to my new chambers with rushed strides to get ready.

Luckily for me, given the small dwarrowdam population, I find my room to have previously belonged to a dwarven woman of my same size. So after washing off my sweaty face from today's chores, I take to the closet where a mass of dwarven apparel awaits. A black, halter dress with high neckline catches my eyes, as it holds no ornate detailing and jewels. I am a simple dwarf who desires plain clothing with an absence of glitter. So, with that, the dress is shoved over my head, its fabric clinging to my body until the waistline, where it falls off in a straight line.

Given the cold weather outside and the expectation of decreased temperatures with the passing of the day, I find myself a fur jacket to wear over the dress. I smile at the coat, for it looks strangely like Thorin's, before slipping it on and running out of the room. A hand clutching my wrist swings me about to lay my eyes upon Bilbo, waiting to lead me away with his new clothes on. The hobbit still wears his characterized suspenders, but new pants and a vest give him a layer of formality in their darkened hues. This is a funeral, after all, which forces us all to be dark and forlorn.

Bilbo leads me away from the room, pointing out each turn with either a "right" or a "left," with the intention of helping me remember. So I take notice of the path, for the first time, having nothing better to think of and not wishing to reflect on the loss of my siblings. With a multiplicity of turns and many words on Bilbo's part, we arrive at Erebor's rebuilt gate of elven sculpting and Mirkwood lumber. And though it will need to be reinforced with dwarven iron, the gate is beautiful and evidence enough of our renewed relationship with Thranduil and his people.

Speaking of the elves, my eyes move away from the doors to look upon the congregation of the three races, and more specifically, on the group near the front. As they are gathered together, the company shines in the darkening day and shadowed hallways of the Lonely Mountain, prompting the soldiers and families to look on with confusion. It's something that will need to be explained, but today is for grieving, and that it what I intend to do.

Thorin and Balin stand towards the front, which rests at the threshold of the Lonely Mountain, the gates sitting open to the approaching sunset. The dwarf king, seeing my bright entrance with Bilbo, gestures for us to move to his side, as he makes his way up the heightened stage. Walking towards him with speed, I take notice of his own humble clothes, rather than those of Thror. He wears a deep blue tunic and blackened trousers, tucked into the boots that I like to throw at Kili. The front of his hair is pulled back in a clasp, like the younger dwarf always does, giving the crowd a good view of my braid in his hair, and those of his family.

Moving to his side, up to the stage, I press a lingering kiss to his cheek, which brightens at the public affection. Rolling my eyes at his occasional shyness, I pull Bilbo closer to me, hand interlocked in his own. As the dwarf king tries to get the attention of the crowds, with the flailing of his arms and my own laughter, I survey the room and take surprise in the lack of open caskets. This, obviously, will not be a typical dwarf funeral, causing me to relapse in curiosity over what Thorin and Balin have planned.