"Do you have any idea what you're doing to this family? What your mother would think if she was still with us?"
Thror, son of Thrain, was far more imposing when in training armour than he was in his usual royal regalia. This did not help Dis from feeling as if she was being spoken to as if she was a youth, a foolish dwarfling who didn't know the meaning of the word integrity. The kingshall was almost empty now, for any lingering servants or guards who had occupied the grand room a few moments ago had all vacated as soon as the crown prince raised his voice at his three children. Dis was standing between her brothers, her eyes fixed on the towering statue of her grandfather Thror carved out of the inner walls of the Blue Mountains. A fine mix of architecture and art, she had to admit. She really should pass on her appreciation to Kened when she next saw him in the corridors–
"Are you listening to me, nathith?" Her father's clipped tone dragged her mind back into the room against its will, and she was met with the steely blue eyes of Thrain as he glowered down at her from the top of the steps. Behind him, the King was letting his son deal with his children for once without intervening. Dis had a feeling her grandfather was finding the notion slightly amusing.
"I am listening to you, Adad. But you've said the same thing in a different way three times. "
At once she felt her brothers stir. Frerin had made a spluttering sound in the back of his throat as he tried to mask his laughter, but Thorin had glanced at her out of the corner of his eye with so much exhaustion that she almost felt bad.
Almost.
"Father I sincerely do not see what I have done wrong–"
"Wrong?" Thrain's thick brow nearly lifted off his forehead entirely. "My daughter is not stupid. She is not a fool. I know full well she isn't. So why is she behaving like one? Wrong, indeed." The dwarf laughed gruffly and glanced over his shoulder at his own father, who nodded tiredly for him to continue. "Why does your brother tell me he stumbled upon you courting?"
"Courting is one word for it," Frerin muttered, though he immediately winced when his sister swiftly kicked him in the shin. "Dis!"
"Act your age." Thorin pulled his sister a few steps away from his brother, and Dis immediately felt that little bubble of irritation grow under her skin. Thorin was getting worse, she thought. Every time he was in a room with Grandfather now, he was becoming increasingly insufferably obedient. When she reluctantly lifted her eyes to Thrain again, her father's lips were a thin line, barely visible through his beard.
"You are a Princess. A daughter of Durin. Your actions reflect this house and this kingdom, you know this."
"You said that we are more than our titles now.. That we are to help our people in refuge in any way we can, and that we will step back into our roles fully when we return to Erebor."
"Honour is still everything, Dis. You are a Durin dam. A rarity as it is. You cannot just..." Thrain trailed off, looking away from her again. Dis knew at that moment that her challenging expression had reminded him of her mother. A situation that usually made her feel sorry for him, but she found herself struggling to find that compassion today.
"Father." Dis dropped her shoulders in exasperation and took a step forward. "Do you realise how unfair this is? Frerin frequents the taverns of Men almost every night. He's up to all manner of things there! Drinking and courting as much as he wants. You don't say a single word to him! He doesn't even remember half of their names the next morning." When her brother gave her an affronted look, Dis ploughed on ahead without sparing him a single glance.
"I'm not doing that. I'm not even allowed out of the mountain! How is that fair? And don't say it's because I'm a dam, Adad because–"
"Of course it is!" Thrain's voice lifted again and Dis, against her will, crashed into a silence as if she was still a child clinging to her mother's skirts. She clenched her jaw, her hands fisted at her sides and returned her gaze to the statue at the back of the hall as her father's voice echoed around them.
"The future of the line of Durin could fall to you at any moment. If your brothers are killed, if I am killed–"
"My brothers are more than capable of siring heirs, Adad. Frerin likely already has."
"Your brothers have duties outside the realms of marriage. And if they were to marry it would be to a daughter from a correct house. The same goes for you too. A lord from a good mine, offering good resources we need as a people not–" Thrain waved his hand dismissively. "A blacksmith."
"He's a good dwarf, Adad." Dis mumbled, her hands tightening at her sides when she felt the corner of her eyes start to prickle.
"He could be the finest dwarf in Aüle's creation it doesn't change the fact he is lowborn." Thrain continued. "He knows what he has done. What affront he has committed against the King. Give me one reason why I shouldn't have him exiled–"
"I'll give you three." Dis levelled her voice out, though her fingernails were pressing into the palms of her hands so much it stung. "He's loyal. Loyal to a fault. He listens to me, Adad, he loves me." When Thrain scoffed, Dis' head immediately whipped to her eldest brother, her eyes filled with tears despite her best efforts.
"Thorin, who helped you evacuate Erebor when Smaug attacked? He's fought at your side all this time. He's your closest friend. Tell him."
Her brother opened his mouth, he took a breath, but then his eyes flicked to their Father and Dis saw him swallow as if the words were bitter-tasting in his mouth. She could feel her tears sliding down her cheeks now, and if she wasn't careful she'd lose her composure entirely. She clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into the thick furs of his robes..
"Thorin please." Dis whispered. "Please. I love him and Vili loves me too– please, brother." Her breath hitched once; only once. But it was too much for him, and he moved his arm away with a tight jaw.
"Answer your sister, lad." Were the first words King Thror spoke, cutting his son off mid-sentence when Thrain had been about to interject. Thror, with his white beard tucked into his belt and his eyes withholding and vacant, shifted on his throne. "This blacksmith. He is as loyal as your sister claims?"
"Yes, grandfather," Thorin answered carefully, though he still wasn't looking at his sister as he spoke. "He is good at his craft. He has taught me a few things. And I have trained and fought at his side with Dwalin since we were children."
"And he is fully aware that courting your sister is far above his station?"
"Vili is...Vili is aware, grandfather. He has nothing but respect for the line of Durin, for you. I know him well enough to speak for him in that regard."
Thror was silent. Dis didn't have the strength to meet his eyes, she was too busy trying to level out her breathing, angrily wiping at her cheeks. She felt Frerin slowly wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her against him, and for once she didn't shrug him off. It was as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder that she heard their grandfather sigh and lean back on his throne..
"For pity's sake, Thrain, let the girl be."
Thrain stilled and then turned on the steps slowly. "Father–"
"We have no treasure hoard. We have clawed back what respect we can in Ered Luin but this is not our birthright, lad. This is not our mountain. It makes no difference now if she marries an Ironfoot or a farmer. There is no future for this house if we do not return to Erebor. Our people are always one bad harvest away from starvation, the Men treat us like dogsbodies and all the while that insidious wyrm," A thick finger jutted out in a vague eastern direction. "Guards our hoard. My hoard."
Dis peered out from Frerin's side and saw how Thorin's eyes flicked away from their grandfather at his emphasis. It was a rare instance of unanimity between the Durin siblings that the further away their grandfather was from the hoard of Erebor the better. Though none of them would ever speak of such things to anyone else. Thror dropped his hand onto the arm of his throne with a smack of skin and coughed deeply as if the very mention of the dragon was rejected by his body.
"I have more pressing things to attend to than who your daughter keeps company with, Thrain. She's doing no harm." Sharp eyes settled on her suddenly.
"Are you with child?"
"No." Dis heard her voice lift a little incredulously, but Thror didn't seem offended.
"You're certain?"
"Yes!"
He gestured to her with a flick of his wrist, looking at his son. "Then what's the issue lad? Eh? Let her be happy." He heaved himself up with another hacking cough and descended the stone steps. "We could use some bloody happiness here."
At once Frerin dropped his arm from around her shoulders so he could bow his head in time with Thorin at the King's exit–and again when their Father clenched his jaw and hurried after him, clearly to try and defend his case.
Silence fell in the throne room, save for Dis still sniffling as she tried to claw back what dignity she had left. Frerin, with stubble, only just poking through his pale face, grinned at her as he straightened.
"That went well, I think."
"I do not need your input." Dis muttered, tucking her handkerchief back up her sleeve. Frerin's grin only widened as he looked at their brother.
"Would it have killed you to speak up for her?"
"You didn't." Thorin said gruffly, though his eyes remained on the throne his grandfather had been sitting in. Frerin threw a hand in the air as they headed for the south exit.
"I'm the spare. He doesn't listen to me. Neither of them do. They listen to you because they think the sun shines out of your–"
"I wish you'd think." Thorin cut Frerin off, but his sentence was directed at Dis and Dis alone. "I wish you'd take just a moment to think about the consequences of an action before you commit to it–"
"And I wish you would knock before barging into my chambers." Dis snapped back. Thorin's eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then narrowed, but before he could defend himself Frerin began to laugh. A hearty, echoing laugh that bounced around the room and a contagious one too. Because Dis saw the corner of Thorin's lips twitch into a smile at her outburst and heard the chuckle that rumbled out from his chest. It seemed like forever since she last heard it.
It was only when the Durin siblings had begun their descent down the stone steps of the throne room that Frerin spoke again, his icy eyes on the rising sun that had nestled itself between the Blue Mountains.
"You really should have told him you're with child, sister."
Dis could almost see it now. It was clear as day in her mind's eye. Thorin had almost tripped down the marble steps at the offhanded revelation from Frerin, and if she concentrated she could almost hear his exasperated tone of voice as he once again launched into a lecture that their mother would have been proud of.
But memory evaporated around her like breath on a looking glass. She found herself staring at that same towering statue of King Thror, searching for that same distraction. Towards the end–not that any of them knew it was 'the end' at the time–her grandfather was not himself. The dwarf she remembered as a child was just, with a twinkle in his eye, and he had always swung her up into his arms no matter what weighed on his mind. But since their world was reduced to ash and flame around them, his mind was focused on one thing only, and now it had led to thousands of deaths. Including his own.
The state of mourning in Ered Luin was gradually coming to an end. In the coming days, the banners would return to their usual Durin blue, and their people would slowly begin to pick up the pieces the Defiler had left in his wake. It also meant that this was one of the last times she would see her lost kin before their entombment. Dis recalled her mother had once criticised her for having a waterfall for a mind. Always moving, never dwelling on one thing for too long. It was at times such as these that she found it infuriating. Why in the name of all that is gold was she working out the logistics of moving their sarcophagi to Erebor should the time come? What point was there to wasting her thoughts on such a thing when she doubted it would ever happen in her lifetime?
But then again, had anything in her mind made sense in recent weeks?
In the name of decency and respect, her grandfather's final resting place had been sealed at her brother's command. None of the mourners needed to see his headless remains; especially since Dis had spent the past three nights trying to soothe her eldest's nightmares.
A movement against her chest pulled her attention away from the statue at last, and she looked down at her son in her arms. Kili was arguably too old to be tucked against her in a cloth wrap given the fact his feet almost hung down to her hips but he stirred so much less when she carried him like this.
He slept on against her chest, even when she brushed his dark fringe from his eyes and pulled the collar of his fur overcoat a little closer. She would take what little blessings she could now.
With one hand still pressed against his small back, Dis approached the mourning pyre her husband lay on. There was something so off putting about seeing the embalmed body of someone you loved. She knew that the dams had saved her more discomfort in a way, had he been left at times' mercy for a fortnight. Yet as she looked at his pale skin and his arms locked tightly around his sword, something didn't feel real. An absence of texture, perhaps. She could no longer see the laughter lines in the corner of his eyes–and goodness didn't Vili laugh a lot? With her brothers when they returned from the taverns of Men, with their boys as he played the part of whatever vicious beast they were pretending to fight, with her. It was such a different laugh when it was just with her.
There it was again. That sickening ache in her chest washed up and down her body in vicious waves. She let her chin come to rest lightly on the top of Kili's head and felt his little hands tighten on the front of her winter dress.
"You never braid these right." She no longer recognised her voice. What left her was a hoarse, raw pull on her vocal chords. Dis moved her hand from Kili's back and reached out to adjust one of the beads in Vili's braids, but her fingers were trembling too much to find purchase on the silver piece. Dis felt her breath leave her in a shaking hitch, and she instead held his golden braid between her thumb and forefinger as tears sprung to her eyes once more. Immediately she brought her other hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the force of her grief for the sake of her son, just in case her chest heaved enough to wake him.
"Your highness."
Dis straightened instantly and looked over her shoulder, wiping at her eyes with the side of her hand swiftly. When she saw Dwalin standing in the doorway, her posture relaxed a little.
"You never address me like that, Dwalin." She mumbled, turning her attention back to Vili once more as she brushed her thumb against his golden hair. "Don't start doing it now."
"Noted." The warrior bowed his head once in apology and came to stand next to her, his feet echoing on the stone floor of the mountain. A silence descended between them as his sharp eyes fell on his fallen friend. Having another presence in the room at least gave her the composure she needed to actually begin to adjust the braid in her husband's hair. Her fingers untwisted with practiced dexterity. She was taken back to the countless times she would draw a warm bath for him whenever he returned from escorting goods or a particularly hard day in the smithy shop, and he would lie in peaceful contentment as she re-braided his hair. Only now she could not bring herself to hum, and there was no comforting heat from steaming bath water. There was just the coldness of the mountain and the softness of his hair between her fingers.
"I won't be a fool and ask how you are, lass." Dwalin began, "I assume you're getting tired of being asked that."
"You would guess correctly." She agreed, re-sectioning the pieces of hair. "Did Balin send you here as a peaceful messenger or was it my brother?"
A telling pause. Dis looked at Dwalin from the corner of her eye and saw the tattooed dwarf had clenched his jaw apprehensively. Thorin then.
"You need to eat, Dis." Dwalin said after a moment, sighing when she tutted and began to braid Vili's hair correctly.
"I'm eating as much as I can spare myself. You can tell my brother that we are hardly feasting on swine and venison every night now. He doesn't have two little mouths to feed at home."
"Arguably he does now, my lady."
Her fingers stopped moving. She could tell from the way Dwalin's expression fell that she was briefly in possession of the 'Durin glare' their childhood friends had often teased them about. He held up a runed hand innocently.
"Dis–"
"Is that what he's telling himself now? That he needs to suddenly be a part of their lives? He really is something else. I'm surprised Kili even knows what he looks like. The only time he ever visited was when he wanted Vili to come with you all to do something stupid." She looked back at her work again, slipping the bead into place at the end of the braid.
"I have managed perfectly well whenever you all disappeared off chasing glory and blood. I shall continue to do so. I do not need Thorin taking this upon himself out of guilt."
"It isn't guilt, lass."
"What else is there? I looked him in the eyes that night, Dwalin. When he asked Vee to go with him. I looked him in the eyes and I made him swear to me that they would come home. That everyone would. And he made an empty promise, a hollow oath just to keep me quiet. Five dwarves I loved left this mountain two months ago. And only he came back. Only Thorin came back." She dropped the lock of her husband's hair and wrapped her arm around Kili again when he shifted in the woven wrap.
"There is nothing else but guilt for my brother to feel, Dwalin."
The warrior did not have the wisdom nor the good council of older brother Balin, but since they were children in Erebor Dis had always seen him in a different light. Grouchy a lot of the time, yes, but she had often found comfort in his company. When he rested his hand respectfully on her upper back, Dis pressed her cheek into her son's hair again.
"They're his family too, Dis." Dwalin's voice was low, barely audible over the crackling of the torches on the walls. "Just like they're yours. He isn't just stepping up because he feels he owes Vili that. He's stepping up because you're his kin. You and those lads are all he has left. Let him try, eh? You have to at least let him try."
Her shoulders jolted again. How was it that grief was both a berserker and an assassin at once? His arm circled her, and Dis lent into him reluctantly, her eyes never leaving her husband.
"...Did you see my father die, Dwalin?"
"Thrain wasn't himself. Balin says he saw him flee, maddened with grief he said. Your brother wants to find him, he wants to search the lands between here and Moria. He's convinced he yet lives."
"Do you believe it?" She asked him, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Vili's beard back into place.
"I cannot say for certain, my lady. But what can we do save for hope?"
"He still hasn't said a word."
Balin lifted his eyes from the parchment he had been scanning when Thorin spoke. With a heavy exhale he let his eyes travel from Thorin to Fili. The boy was sat on his ankles near the hearth, his chin propped up by his hand. His other was slowly moving a wooden soldier across the handwoven rug. When Balin looked back at Thorin his old eyes held a sadness that would never quite leave him for the rest of his days.
"Your sister says he speaks to his brother. It's to be expected, Thorin. The lad saw something that no boy his age should see. He's going to be a little shaken up about it."
Though Thorin nodded, Balin could tell that he did not agree with what he had said. "No blame rests with you." Balin continued, returning his attention to the letter from the Iron Hills.
"My sister should have returned by now." Thorin pushed himself to his feet and reached for his heavy overcoat. When he was halfway through shrugging it on, Balin spoke without lifting his eyes from the notes he was making in his ledger.
"If you think I am watching your nephew while you stalk about in the snow you are sorely mistaken, Thorin."
Thorin glanced at the little boy again, one arm still half raised.
"My brother is with her. I asked him to escort her home seeing as it is getting dark. All is in hand." The older dwarf gestured towards the hearth with a twist of his head.
"I'll be a while writing this."
It was the closest thing to 'get over yourself' Balin felt comfortable saying at this point, but Thorin had seemingly understood. With a heavy sigh, he let his coat drop back onto his sister's chair before he crossed the small space.
His nephew lifted his eyes to him slowly. He looked so much like Vili that for a split second Thorin couldn't acknowledge him. He just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides, a little unsure of himself.
They're good boys, really. Good boys.
As if his fallen friend was still sitting in his chair near the fire, Thorin let out a breath. And slowly eased himself down onto the floor across from Fili, though his joints popped and complained at such a slow movement. Still, Fili's eyes didn't move from his, his little hand tightening on a wooden ram. Thorin lowered his eyes to the toys strewn across his sister's rug, foot soldiers, rams, little trebuchets. All the makings of a toy siege. He reached out for an armoured soldier and picked it up, brushing the pad of his thumb over the fine wood.
"Who is this, then?" He asked his nephew, holding the soldier up. Fili's blue eyes dropped to the toy and then back to him. Then he bit the corner of his lower lip nervously and looked back down at the battle ram he was pushing along the rug. Thorin turned the toy around again and continued to speak quietly.
"This looks like Durin himself to me. Did Bofur make this for you? It looks like his work." He moved the toy arm a little, watching the well-crafted joints twist this way and that. Fili was still watching him cautiously, one of his fingers was in his mouth. A soother, was that not what his sister had called it?
Days, and he had barely said a word to anyone other than his little brother. Thorin didn't blame him. If he had the choice he didn't want to speak to anyone other than his little brother either. But that was not an opportunity he would have outside of prayer now.
"Has he got a sword?" Thorin scanned his eyes over the rug again. "He can't fight spiders and all manner of nasty things without a sword, can he?"
Fili pushed himself up onto his knees and leaned forward to move a cluster of little rocks he and Kili used in the toy trebuchet and plucked a well-painted little sword from amongst them. Wordlessly, he held it out to him and Thorin took it with the smallest of smiles.
At the table, Balin had lowered his quill and was watching with an unreadable expression.
"There." Thorin nodded, slipping the sword into the toy's grip. His nephew was still leaning forward slightly on his knees, his golden hair hung down just above his shoulders. Braidless, with no stories of battles or loss to tell, whereas Thorin's head was three braids heavier now. Fili placed the ram on the floor near him, watching in silence as Thorin settled the toy on top of its steed.
"A mighty King."
Fili smiled then. The smile of a child, even if there was such rawness in his eyes. What surprised Thorin the most was the fact he found himself smiling back. Genuinely.
When the door swung open he looked over his shoulder to see his sister stamping snow from her feet and felt relief rush through him. Dis crossed her threshold with a sigh, shrugging off her winter coat as Dwalin pulled the bolts across the door behind her.
"Balin."
"My lady." The older dwarf inclined his head to her respectfully, but Dis was not paying attention anymore. Instead, she was looking down at her brother with a slightly stunned expression. Thorin, feeling a little foolish seeing as his hands were still wrapped around a toy, stared back up at her.
"What are you doing?" There was no irritation in her words. Just genuine confusion.
"Uh," Thorin passed the toy to Fili quickly and straightened a little. "I was just–"
"Soldiers!" From behind his mother, fully restored from his nap, Kili skidded over to the rug and knocked into his brother roughly, nearly toppling them both over–but as soon as Thorin heard his eldest nephew laugh as he tried to push them both upright, none of it mattered.
"Not fair, Fee. You started without me."
"I was waiting." It was perhaps the quietest any of the family had heard Fili talk. It almost felt as if they were not supposed to hear him at all. It was a voice for Kili and Kili alone. Fili reached over again to push a garishly painted troll into his brother's little hand.
"I wouldn't start without you, Kee."
"My troll is going to smash the walls." The younger boy immediately shifted to lie on his front, his legs kicking in the air behind him. After a moment, Fili moved to lie in a similar position as he pushed the toy drawbridge closed.
"Nu-uh." He shook his head, his voice still soft. Kili looked back over his shoulder at Thorin, who had been about to pick himself up and see to the documents Balin was chartering.
"Are you playing?" He asked, and his dark eyes were so much like Frerin's that it made Thorin want to leave even more. But then he looked at his sister.
His little sister. The only sibling he had left. He saw the tears in her eyes as she held the back of one of the chairs, he could feel the heartache as she watched her sons try in vain to do something as innocent as play with their father's empty chair behind them.
The first battles he had ever fought had been waged in the realms of imagination with Frerin as boys. His nephews did not have the echoing halls of Erebor to craft into their games. They didn't have the treasure hoard, the carousel and the travelling circus that occasionally settled in the mannish town of Dale or anything that he and Frerin had as little princes.
But they had a hearth, a rug and handmade toys Bofur was exceedingly proud of. It would be enough.
"Alright." Thorin nodded, moving himself closer to them both. "But if you're being under siege by something like a troll, Fili, you need to have archers on your battlements."
For the first time in her life; as she turned to start her sons' dinners, Dis was glad that Thorin had proven her wrong.