The return
Author: wanderingsmith
may 2018
Summary: Dís had her caravan dismount and find
places to rest in the reasonably empty courtyard and
then moved quickly in the direction she'd been
pointed. Glad for the travelling trousers instead of
the stately dressed she'd soon be back in, she took
the stairs two at a time to stretch her muscles, too
long held still in a saddle. She reached the top and
looked around for her usually easy to spot tall
brother. Frowning at the lack of loose dark hair
flying like a flag in the jerky breeze, she was
distracted from her search by a nearby authoritative
shout.
The high voice already had her curious, long before
she clapped eyes on a *halfling*.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft
enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it
be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
Dís slowly rode through to the almost-restored gates of
Erebor, trying to deny the way her heart clenched with
memories, both good and horrible. When she'd made
herself allow her boys to follow the king her brother,
there had been certainty, at the back of her mind, that
she would never again see any of them alive. To see an
Erebor raven carried to her by an Ered Luin guard, and
hear that the Lonely Mountain was free of the wyrm, and
her family was *safe*.. She hadn't been able to respond
for long moments.
And now here they were, the last of Durin's folk in
exile, riding back into Erebor.
She had to admit, she'd rather expected her brother to
be waiting. But the damage still visible in the gates,
the sound of urgent shouts and rock and metal-work
filled the air, along with the early bite of winter in
the breeze, all told the dwarrowdam in her that there
were far more important things than ceremony.
Nonetheless, the first dwarf to try to hurry by her
after she dismounted her pony was snagged by the
shoulder. Not recognizing him, and knowing that most
dwarrows would not know her image, she asked simply,
"Where is your lord?"
He frowned at her, looking harried and distracted,
jerking his chin up at the top of stairs off next to the
great gates, "Up there." And then rushed off on his
errand.
Dís had her caravan dismount and find places to rest in
the reasonably empty courtyard and then moved quickly in
the direction she'd been pointed. Glad for the
traveling-trousers instead of the stately dressed she'd
soon be back in, she took the stairs two at a time to
stretch her muscles, too long held still in a saddle.
She reached the top and looked around for her usually
easy to spot tall brother. Frowning at the lack of loose
dark hair flying like a flag in the jerky breeze, she
was distracted from her search by a nearby authoritative
shout.
The high voice already had her curious, long before she
clapped eyes on a *halfling*. Who was giving a fair
imitation of a high-pitched roar at a group of dwarrows
that she could now see were trying to guide what looked
like a slightly damaged piece of the Great Gate into an
empty section of wall, opposite from the open gate she'd
ridden through.
What was a *halfling* doing ordering dwarrows in dwarven
work?
And she could clearly see that everyone was obeying,
from dwarrows she knew from Ered Luin, right to some
clearly from the Iron Hills. And her brother was still
not in view.
"HOLD it up, you lot! DORI! 2 ROPES TO THE LEFT!"
She didn't realize she was approaching him until she
heard him mutter to himself, "This is not working, it's-
NO! DWALIN! Further SOUTH! AT LEAST-" They both flinched
at the great boom of sound as a section of the piece
broke off for no apparent reason and fell into the
roped-off yard below it.
"Well that's done it. STAND DOWN! COMPANY TO ME! And now
how do we secure this blasted thing for the winter..."
Fascinated, Dís didn't think to interrupt as the small
creature, wearing a large dagger as though it were a
sword, and a Durin-blue surcoat over what.. Mahal! that
*was* mithril!... She shook her head, following the
rather thin halfling's eyes to an odd outcropping far
above the empty gate frame.
"Bofur."
She started at the conversational tone, then saw a dwarf
she half-remembered from the day the Quest had left nod
to the strange creature, "Aye?"
"Is that rock sound?"
Dís' brows raised at what sounded like a question that
should go to a guildmaster.
"I'd have to see it."
"Go."
And with that the dwarf with the floppy hat took off at
a run without hesitation under Dís' bemused eyes.
"GET ME Thorin!"
*That* made her jerk to attention. The order had seemed
to be sent to the general air, but she saw several
dwarrows look up from below, and could see a trail of
shouts and scurries leading into the mountain. Well
finally.
When she turned back though, it was to a curly head
turning, and eyes widening at the sight of her.
"Who-" Before she could answer, she saw him stop and
straighten, recognition in his still-aggravated, but
un-dwarvenly calm eyes. "Lady Dís."
She nodded slowly, gazing at the beardless features. She
hadn't had enough contact with his race to judge his
age, though his eyes were not young, and the dark
shadows underneath spoke of more than the Great Gate
causing concern. "I am she. Who-"
"Bilbo!"
She and the halfling both turned at the familiar shout,
her brother the king hurrying up the stairs with dark
eyes of his own, along with new scars crossing his
features. She watched as he rushed up the last steps to
the halfling and wrapped him in a hug. And she knew that
hug; knew only the closest of family was privy to it.
"You are unhurt?"
"Yes yes, of course. The damned fault in the thing gave
way when we were *this* close to setting it to rest!"
"Ghivashel. We will find a means to fix the gate; you
know this."
"Aye. I know."
Seemingly forgotten by the halfling and un-noticed by
her erstwhile sibling, Dís stood with wide eyes and
watched her brother; and apparently his One. Whom a
dwarf of Erebor had called his lord.
"Bilbo. We heard the noise. I take it your luck did not
hold?"
Dís shrank back to try to watch more of the show without
interfering. Watched Balin and Dwalin, along with a
gorgeous example of dwarfhood she also remembered
leaving with the quest, come up the steps much more
calmly than Thorin, all frowning at the mess of rubble
down below.
The halfling, whom she now assumed was named Bilbo,
pulled out of her clingy brother's hold enough to turn
to the king's adviser, "Yes, it did. I have Bofur
looking at that rock up there, I was thinking we
could..."
The tired group discussed alternatives to make a gate to
keep any marauding orcs out of their mountain, and Dís
watched the dynamics. Coming to the undeniable
conclusion that the halfling was the one giving the
orders. Not the king.
"Why is the halfling ruling Erebor?"
Watching the group spin to face her, Dís smiled
sardonically at the shocked looks of her kin, both close
and far. Thorin's stepping over quickly to embrace her
with an exclamation was no surprise, and she gladly
returned it, but the moment he pulled back, she glared
at Balin, usually the most reasonable one.
This time he flinched at her glare. "Lady Dís. Bilbo...
He Claimed Thorin. Undeniable and publicly. His right to
rule is unquestionable."
At that, she turned her glare to her brother. Who did
not flinch. Instead, he jerked his head up for a moment,
and her eyes widened at the teethmarks exposed before he
looked her in the eyes again and gave her a small smile
that spoke more of peace than anything; and then stepped
back behind his mate. Who was watching her carefully.
"I apologize if this is a shock, lady Dís. but I don't
have leisure to discuss family matters just now. The
first winter storm is on the horizon, and the patrols
report still too many orcs for my peace of mind." He
gave her a rough dwarven bow, "Balin can show you your
temporary quarters. I'm afraid your old ones are still
in need of repair. And we have places ready for y- *our*
people. Hopefully we can speak with the evening meal.
Dori, with us, please." And with another half-bow, the
little creature stalked down the stairs with her brother
and the gorgeous dwarf following on his heels.
And Dís slowly turned to her brother's old adviser.
"Claimed. And you did not stop it?"
"Stop it? Dís.. Thorin could have defended *himself*..."
The trailing words were not exactly surprising; she'd
rather thought it herself, looking at Thorin and the
halfling side by side. "So my brother chose to give
himself over to one he desired. That is no reason to
make the halfling king."
She watched Balin and Dwalin exchange flinches that made
her tense with worry, and then Dwalin apparently lost
the toss and answered her implied question. "When we got
to Erebor... The gold.. We all started to..."
She finished for him, cold fear making her tone
dead-sounding, "Fall to gold sickness."
"..Aye."
Balin picked up when his brother went silent, "Bilbo..
says he was affected as well.. But quite obviously not
nearly as much. When we all stopped paying attention to
dangers.. and becoming.. unreasonable..." She nodded
that he need not elaborate, not needing or wanting, just
at this juncture, to hear the details of what had
transpired. "Bilbo.. Bilbo regained his senses. And when
we wouldn't listen to his pleas.. He stopped pleading
and started ordering. Thorin had told him, back after
the Claiming, that he *could* have taken leadership. And
so he did. He shouted and snarled and slapped us 'round
the head until we heard his authority.. and agreed that
honour dictated he had the right to claim leadership.
Even Thorin. He led us through confrontation with the
men and elves, and then through the battle, and
repairs." She held the serious look he gave her, "In
those first few days.. Thorin was still.. taken by the
gold. And the damned Stone. Bilbo's orders were the only
thing that got through him. His authority the only thing
that kept Thorin's paranoia and.."
"Foolish bad temper?"
Balin didn't smile at the jibe, grimacing instead. "Yes,
that as well. He luckily never quite lost track of the
fact that Bilbo was in command now, so his roared orders
to attack overwhelming forces.. were countermanded
without consequence. We owe him Erebor, Lady Dís. And
the continued survival and sanity of.. your brother." He
glanced back to where the others had gone and Dwalin
laid a commiserating hand on his shoulder, sharing a
small, rough-edged smile before passing it to Dís, "Even
now.. he's actually.. happy, did you notice, Dís? He
runs all around Erebor, doing just as much as Bilbo to
try to get things running smoothly. But everyone knows
Bilbo has the final word. Including Thorin. And he
*smiles*, Cousin. Calm and happy and.. frequently,
clumsily, ignored as people rush to demand answers from
Bilbo, and he only begins to frown when Bilbo begins to
look too exhausted."
Dís nodded. The shock wearing off and replaced with a
cold dose of reality. Thorin might be a natural leader
in troubles, but he had always needed steadier help for
the less martial side of kingship. She'd simply never
thought he would be willing to make that help public.
She'd expected to harry him privately, with Balin and a
few others. She'd long given up on a spouse joining
their crew.
AN: This
was written... heck.. 4 years ago, now, I guess, but
the section that come before this in sequence.. are
not near so finished.. so this sat there until Nyruserra
made me think of it and on re-reading, I thought,
what the hell, this stands not so terribly all on
its own..
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