#hobbitadvent

A beam of sunlight tickled Dwalin’s nose. He stretched, confused at first that he was feeling warm and comfortable. He needed a few moments to comprehend why he was in a soft bed instead of on the cold ground with a make-shift bedroll.

The scent of salves hung in the air, almost drowning out the still ever-present smell of dragon-smoke. Dwalin rolled over carefully to see if Thorin had woken up yet.

  He had been reluctant to sleep in the same bed as Thorin so soon after the battle, afraid to accidentally jostle him during the night or keep him awake with his snores.

“Don’t be daft,” Thorin had smiled at him weakly, his eyes shiny with fever. “That never bothered me. You sleep as still as a stone.” He had paused, exhausted from the few words already. Finally he had continued in almost a whisper, “Having you here calms me, helps me sleep.”

If that hadn’t settled it, Oin’s words when he took Dwalin to the side had. “It might be a good idea. I won’t be far, but… it won’t hurt to have somebody even closer, just in case…”

After that, there had been no question. Dwalin had crawled into the large bed that had been set up for Thorin in the mountain, keeping track of every breath, every little movement and groan of pain. Even though Thorin’s breathing had stayed even, Dwalin had been determined to stay awake lest he slept too deeply to notice Thorin’s condition taking a turn for the worse. As it turned out, Dwalin’s exhaustion after the battle had been stronger.

He had woken when Thorin started shaking with fever that first morning. He had called Oin, who had cleaned Thorin’s wounds again and ordered to keep Thorin warm. Dwalin had crawled closer to Thorin under the heap of blankets that had been added, careful not to disturb his injuries as he tried to warm him.

Since then, Dwalin had spent his nights sleeping in Thorin’s sickbed, sometimes frantically calling for Oin, other times waking Thorin from his fevered nightmares and calming him down, trying to keep his own nightmares quiet. The first few days had been awful and filled with constant worry, but at last, Thorin’s fever had gone down and his wounds had finally begun to heal.

  Dwalin looked over at Thorin and was greeted by a warm smile.

“Good morning.”

Dwalin smiled back, relief flooding through him at how well Thorin looked. “It is, isn’t it? How are you feeling?”

“Finally truly awake, which is a pleasant change.” The slight grimace as Thorin shifted told Dwalin that the pain still wasn’t gone yet.  “I still want to kill the orcs who did this to me all over again, just slowly this time to see them suffer.”

“Aye, Oin shifted you to less strong pain medication yesterday. If it gets too bad, you can switch back for a few more days.”

“Don’t you dare. The pain won’t kill me and I like being to see things without a thick layer of cotton between me and the world.”

Dwalin tried not to twitch. He couldn’t quite stomach offhand comments about Thorin dying yet. He shifted closer to Thorin. “I think I prefer you like this as well.”

Thorin grinned in a way that Dwalin hadn’t seen in far too long. “Oh, do you now?”

His good arm reached out and tugged Dwalin closer by his beard.

“Thorin…”

“Don’t tell me you have forgotten how to kiss since the battle.” Thorin gave Dwalin’s beard another slight tug and Dwalin obliged, gently kissing Thorin, the angle slightly awkward in order to avoid causing Thorin more pain.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Thorin teased in the way he only did behind closed doors. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

Dwalin felt a lump rising in his throat and suddenly found himself blinking rapidly.

“Dwalin?” Thorin asked uncertainly.

“I… I thought…” Dwalin turned his back to Thorin and covered his face with a hand before he could see the tears spill over.

Thorin’s hand settled on Dwalin’s back, gently stroking it.

“I promise I won’t. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Dwalin choked out, his back shaking with silent sobs. Thorin continued running his hand over his back in soothing circles.

After what seemed like ages, Dwalin felt his breathing calming down. He scrubbed a hand across his face and after a few more moments, turned back towards Thorin.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to…”

Thorin shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

He scrutinized Dwalin for a moment, then pulled him close again, curling his hand around the nape of his neck.

“But…”

“I don’t mind that you’re leaky,” Thorin grinned at Dwalin and, before Dwalin could protest against Thorin’s words, kissed him.

The kiss was less cautious than the previous one but no less tender. Dwalin settled himself in a comfortable position beside Thorin and for a long time, they merely kept exchanging kisses.

The gentle reassurance and warmth of Thorin beside him slowly made Dwalin relax completely. The golden sunlight drifting in through the windows and the leisurely way in which Thorin ran his hand across Dwalin’s neck, back and shoulders soon had him feeling drowsy. He sighed contentedly as he let Thorin take complete control of the kissing.

He felt Thorin’s grin beneath his lips and suddenly, Thorin’s hands wandered down his lower back over his bottom and his thighs, near-lifelong experience telling him just where to let them linger and tease.

Dwalin bit back a groan. “Will. You. Stop. That.” He ground out, opening his eyes to glare at Thorin.

Thorin’s blue eyes watched him with amusement. “I can’t have you falling asleep now, can I? Not on such a morning and when you still have to tell me about the things that have happened since the battle. I only remember things through a haze.”

“And you couldn’t think of another way to do that than trying to get me riled up when we can’t do anything?” Dwalin scowled at the contemplative look on Thorin’s face. “No, we’re not discussing things we could still do even while you’re injured. I’m not risking anything with you like this.”

“Fine. Of course I could have thought of other ways to keep you awake, but this was the most entertaining one. And I wanted to know if perhaps my charm on you had faded.”

To Rind, fathers were mostly just extras. It was the mother who carried and birthed the children and in her own experiences it had been solely up to her to feed and clothe and love them. But she couldn’t avoid the questions her sons would inevitably ask about their fathers.

Nori had always known that his father was dead; he knew his name and his love of wandering. He had asked many times for more information which had been freely given, but as he got older he grew to realise the sadness it caused his mother so he had stopped. His father had loved him and his mother; he knew this and that was enough.

As time had gone by Dori began to forget his father. He remembered waking from nightmares only to be soothed by strong arms. He remembered the smell of freshly laundered clothes with a faint scent of pipe weed. Rind often talked of his gentleness and tender nature but she had never loved him, and Dori did not know why.

Ori didn’t have a father.

  As soon as the first raven had arrived in the Blue Mountains with the news that Erebor had been reclaimed Rind had signed onto the first available caravan along with the Princess Dís. Some months later she was approaching the mountain with apprehension. This was the place she had been so elated to leave behind and here she was, coming back as if the day could not have come sooner.

The caravan slowed as it entered what once had been Dale. There were plenty of men and dwarves working on the reconstruction. They lugged barrows full of stone and lumber to buildings that were in various stages of completion.

“- don’t imagine it’ll be a grand affair,” she heard a passing dwarrow say, “Not enough trade just yet for anything luxurious.”

“But that’s not the point of a wedding though, is it?” his companion said, “It’s about the union itself not what goods they can show off.”

Rind never could resist a bit of gossip and it seemed like an Ereborian wedding was on the cards, she couldn’t let information like that simply pass her by.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear. Is there to be a wedding?”

“Surely is, between two of the heroes of Erebor no less.”

“Truly? Which ones?”

“Balin son of Fundin and Dori son of Baldr I believe.”

Rind shrieked and embraced the two alarmed dwarves.

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologised once she’d realised how absurd she must seem, “It’s just I thought they’d never get round to it. He’s my son you see, Dori. My eldest.”

“Ah well then, congratulations missus. You must be very proud.”

“Oh I am,” she beamed, “Extremely.”

  It was all she could do not to run the rest of the way up to the mountain but she kept herself in check. She shouldn’t present herself as the silly mother who always made a show of everything, now was the time to act her age.

The company was waiting for them outside the gate. King Thorin greeted his sister formally before welcoming the rest of the caravan to Erebor. Rind caught Ori’s eye, he grinned and gave her a surreptitious wave, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As soon as the formalities were done with she rushed forward and held him tightly, smothering him in kisses.

“I am so proud of you,” she told him, “But don’t you dare ever run off like that again.”

“Don’t mind her, Ori, she’s probably just jealous. Bet you wish you’d come along, eh Ma?” Nori had appeared at her shoulder and she gave him a clip round the ear before pulling him into a hug.

“Far too old for that nonsense. Now, where’s my Dori?”

“Here, Amad.”

All notions of acting the sensible mother flew out of the window, she squealed and threw her arms around his neck.

“My baby’s getting married!”

“What? How did you know? You literally just got here!”

“I have my ways,” she tapped her nose conspiratorially, “So it’s true then?”

Dori nodded with a soppy grin.

“Balin was going to ask your permission but, I mean you weren’t here and we …”

“Oh come off it! As if you need my permission at your age.”

She scanned the crowd for her son’s fiancé, upon finding him she beckoned him over, taking great delight in the fact that he looked like a guilty schoolboy.

“Lady Rind.” He greeted, giving her a brief but respectful bow. She smacked his arm in return.

“None of that,” she scolded, “You know very well that that’s not my name. No need to grovel, in my opinion you’ve waited far too long to make an honest dwarf of my boy.”

Dori and Balin looked sufficiently embarrassed while Nori roared and Ori stifled his chuckles behind his woollen gloves.

  The night before the wedding Dori sat with his mother reminiscing of times past.

“Ama, can … that is … would you mind if we talked about Adad?”

“Of course we can, darling. What should we talk of?”

“I just always wondered, if you didn’t love him, why did you marry him?”

Rind sighed. It was a fair question and to be honest, one she should have answered long ago.

“I was very young and very strong minded,” she began, “My parents had been grooming me for marriage as soon as they could. I don’t even want to think about the number of dwarves I courted before I came of age. All these nobles with their honey words and deceiving smiles. Then along comes your father who was stupidly honest. You see, he would have much preferred a husband to a wife but he wanted children and – oh you’ll think me so silly – I was so tired of the pressure to find someone and so I accepted him. Simply because he was honest. It was idiotic on both our parts really. What if we’d found other people later on? What then? But that’s beside the point. We did not love each other as a married couple should, but Baldr became my closest friend and we were happy. So in a way, I did love him.”

Dori suddenly tugged her into a crushing embrace.

“You are the most ridiculous dwarf,” he told her, “But at least Adad was too.”

  When Ori had asked about his sire it had been much harder to tell him the truth.

“Who was he, Ama? That’s all I want to know, just a name.” he pleaded.

“I can’t, Ori. I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” she told him curtly, “I just can’t. Stop asking.”

A rare flash of anger passed over Ori’s normally sweet features.

“I just want to know who I am!” he yelled.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell and I’ve been true to my word this long. I’ll not break it now, and certainly not when you’re acting like a petulant dwarfling.” She snapped, throwing down the dishcloth she was holding to make it abundantly clear that it was the end of the discussion.

Fuming, Ori stormed out, slamming the door with as much strength as he could muster. Not an hour later, Nori entered unannounced, looking furious.

“You need to tell him.” He said.

“I’ll say the same to you as I said to him: I can’t.”

“He’ll not judge you for anything, Ma, if that’s what you’re afraid of. He just wants a name.”

“And then what? He’ll squirrel off to the library and set himself up with genealogy reports and then it won’t just be a name, it’ll be a lineage and a history and before long he’ll have found the bastard!”

Nori suddenly looked very uncomfortable; the dwarf in question must be bad for her to use language like that.

“Ma,” he ventured, “You weren’t … forced or nothing, were you?”

“No. No I was not. There were things not mentioned that should have been, though. Please. Trust me when I say it’s better that Ori doesn’t know. I made a promise not to say anything.”

“To him?”

“To his wife.”

  In truth the main reason she couldn’t give Ori a name was because she didn’t know it. It was after a few ales in the tavern when she had spotted him at the bar. It was his hair that caught her eye. The same colour as Nori’s father’s had been. He was younger than her, that much was obvious, but he sent a smile and a wink her way, so not so young as to find her unappealing, she had thought. Maybe, just maybe, she could pretend he was Nabbi, just for one night imagine that her love was not dead but alive and well in her arms.

He took her to a little bookshop he owned in a part of town she’d rarely been. Buzzing from the combination of drink and heavy kisses, she could almost imagine that his hands were Nabbi’s, that his scent was less parchment and more of bonfires. But later, when he lay spent on top of her she would realise that actually, his hair was more brown than red, that his scent was definitely not like Nabbi’s and that he had done what no other lover she’d had had done before. He’d taken his pleasure in her and given her none. As she walked home alone in the early hours and the haze of drink began to lift, she realised that she had found nothing about the tryst pleasant; in fact the whole thing had been verging on painful. No one had ever been that rough or uncaring with her. She had used him just as much, she knew, but still she could feel where there would be bruises come morning. She cursed herself. Of all the stupid things she had done, this ranked pretty damn highly.

It was a mistake that she tried to put behind her. She fully intended to act as if it had never happened and just move on being a little wiser about the world. But when her monthlies stopped and she found that everything she ate refused to stay down for long it became apparent that this mistake was not going to be forgotten.

She was more than happy to leave things be, to just prepare for motherhood again on her own but Dori and Nori had been persistent that if it had been either of them siring a child, they would want to know.

She remembered the street where his bookshop was well enough as she had made sure to avoid it since that night. It was with some trepidation that she entered but was then flooded with relief when she saw it was not him behind the counter but a dwarrowdam. She was very pretty with a belly much larger than Rind’s, she held a hand around it protectively, her first then Rind guessed.

The lady graced her with a warm smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Oh, I was just looking for the gentleman who owns this place. It’s not important.”

The dwarf’s smile faltered a little, her eyes lingered on Rind’s small baby bump.

“Oh. He’s done it again, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s not the first time,” she was clearly trying to hold back tears now, “But he promised me it wouldn’t happen again. He promised.”

Comprehension dawned on Rind in a wave of nausea.

“He’s married? To you?”

The woman nodded, covering her eyes as if by shutting them Rind would disappear.

“I won’t say anything,” Rind told her, “If it’s easier I won’t ever tell anyone. I swear to you, no one need know.”

“I know.”

Rind approached her, tentatively taking her young hands in her own.

“Sometimes pretending is easier. Yes, you know. I can’t change that. Mahal knows I wish I could. I wish I could take it all back, if I’d known I’d never have … but it’s a bit late for all that. You have my word that I will disappear from your life. I’m just a stranger you’ve never met. Do you understand? Pretend and maybe one day it’ll seem real.”

  It was a promise she had kept. The only secret she had kept from her sons but she truly believed it had been for the best and that it still was.

Ori came home after dinner, as silent as a mouse and sat opposite her at the table.

“He’s not a decent dwarf, Ori. Even if I didn’t have an oath to keep I wouldn’t want him anywhere near you.”

“Nori said it might be something like that. That he was already married.”

“I didn’t know that at the time.”