Chapter Text
There was a storm raging outside of the mountain, and while the entire city was sheltered from both the wind and the rain, the streets and tunnels were still echoing the howling. It wasn’t as dark as it was at night, with lanterns and fires burning everywhere as usual, but the reflected light from outside gave everything a gloomy touch.
All of this made Dori mildly uneasy, and from time to time he imagined that there was the war cry of Orcs and the howl of Wargs in the storm’s noise, but of course, it was all a trick of the mind.
The baby however, would not be calmed by the knowledge of safety. He was still too young to know that he was protected in the mountain, that there were tons of stone all around them, sheltering any Dwarf inside, and that he was protected by his family, too. For Ori, all that mattered was the noise and the scary sounds.
Dori looked around the house, checking whether any lights burned where they weren’t supposed to, and if the mash was warming up on the stove, before walking into the drawing room, where Ori’s cradle usually stood during the day.
As expected Nori was already there, tucked into his favourite sitting spot right below the largest window, cradling the child in his arms. He was telling stories, and singing lullabies for distraction. Ori did not know the words yet, but his father’s voice always calmed him after a while, and now all the noises he made slowly faded from crying to little more than a tiny whimper.
Dori stopped in the doorway, taking the time to look his younger brother over.
Nori was pale and looked tired, as he always did lately, his eyes were red and slightly puffy, as if he had been crying himself before hearing his son getting anxious about the storm. His voice was happy though, with not the slightest sign of distress as he sang for the baby.
This wasn’t that unusual really. Nori barely slept at night, either because he cared for Ori or because he simply couldn’t fall asleep, only to doze off in the middle of the day. He would work so much for Ori, and Dori had never seen him act as responsible as when he cared for the baby. Sometimes he would disappear for a while, only to bring back food or clothes or toys, never anything they wouldn’t need for Ori.
After his little brother had first showed up with a baby in his arms and a distraught expression on his face, asking for help and to see their Ma, Dori had suspected that this was out of guilt. He thought that Nori had gone ahead and gotten a random girl with child, and that somehow she had died or could not keep it, so now he had to deal with his mistakes.
It couldn’t be that, though. When Nori cradled little Ori in his arms, or let him play and tug at his beard like he never would have permitted to anyone, his face was filled with joy. He looked at Ori like he was the most wonderful thing in the world, like he was more precious than a mithril vein or all the gold of Erebor. Never once had he looked different from any other parent who loved their child unconditionally.
He must have loved the child’s mother, too, and perhaps he still did.
Dori had not known anyone who might be the one, had never seen Nori with any girl or grown Dam in the entire year before him showing up with the baby. And Ori did not look like anyone Dori knew either, he showed no trait common to any family other than theirs yet, with Nori’s sharp nose and light brown hair like their father used to have, and all Dori could guess was that the mother was most likely a Longbeard, too.
Nori never spoke of her. ’Gone,’ he had said when Dori asked about where she was. He refused to say anything else or even listen to anything about her, and Dori couldn’t get any other piece of information out of him.
‘Gone’ might have meant anything, that she had abandoned Nori or that she had died in childbirth as was not too unsual for very young Dwarves, if she was Nori’s age or younger.
The way Nori sometimes looked in the distance and never showed any signs of anger or resentment spoke against her breaking his heart by walking away from him. Sometimes he would look towards the East, to the gates and stop to watch the Dwarves who arrived in the mountain amongst the wounded from Thráin’s campaign, or freeze in the street with a flicker of hope on his face, followed by disgust and disappointment.
She might return, then, but from the way Nori sometimes cried when he thought nobody would see, Dori could guess that he didn’t expect it himself.
He was over trying to comfort his brother about it though. There was little Dori could do to mend a broken heart or about the loss of someone beloved. If Nori didn’t let him close to even find out what was going on, Dori couldn’t do a thing but wait and see whether that would change, and be there if Nori decided that he needed him.
Ori had fallen asleep while Dori stood and watched them, and Nori slowly stopped speaking, content to cradle the baby and wait to see if he would wake up again. When that didn’t happen he gently brushed his fingers over Ori’s cheek, and looked out of the window, his smile slipping and his expression returning to one of misery again.
Dori walked up to him, and Nori only noticed when he was just a few steps away.
His head snapped up, and he looked at Dori with the expression he had each time Dori had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He hadn’t wanted Dori to see him like this, eyes still red and holding on to his son as if it was the only comfort he had.
“Don’t sit on the floor,” Dori said, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s cold and you will just make yourself ill.”
He offered a hand and Nori took it, carefully standing up so that Ori wouldn’t be jostled from the movement.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I…” Nori blinked tiredly. “Not sure.”
“There is mash in the kitchen, I can warm it up some more if Ori is asleep anyway,” Dori said, deciding not to chide Nori for being careless. He had enough going on already.
Nori took one last look towards the window, swallowed hard and let his brother lead him through the dim corridors.
*-*-*-*-*
They had a couple of weeks of marching time behind them and were far into the Misty Mountains’ valleys, only a little way from the entrances into the mines and tunnels that had connected the entire range in ages past, when Dwalin first asked to go home.
“I want ‘amad…” she whispered under her breath, so quiet that Balin wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been sitting so close beside him.
His sister wouldn’t be the first to wish for her mother, many of their warriors had already talked about missing their parents and their families, no matter what age they were at. Some did it because they weren’t used to being apart from all they knew, some had wanted their mothers’ comfort after the first taste of battle and the Goblins they had already fought.
Dwalin hadn’t been one of those too anxious before or after battle. She was strong, well trained and a fierce fighter, already strong enough to keep up with her father and brother even though she was so young. She had been very sober and had shown little fear, and at night when the campfires were lit, she acted rough and unfazed as ever.
When she asked for her mother though, she didn’t look like those who had been afraid and started panicking, or had to be calmed down by healers or those who were older and more experienced. There was no fear in Dwalin’s eyes as she stared up into the sky, but they shined with tears.
Balin didn’t know what to do about that. Dwalin had rarely shown signs of distress, and rarely had she cried out of sorrow. When Balin gave comfort it was with words, but he didn’t know what had made her feel like that, or how to approach her in the first place. He didn’t even know what had brought it on, he had been writing in his journal while beside him he could hear the rhythmic sound of Dwalin cleaning her daggers.
Now she sat curled up in her furs, looking smaller and more vulnerable than a girl of her height and build was supposed to be able to do.
Balin put away his quill and scooted closer to her, watching for any signs of her being lost in memories of the battle or that she might lash out.
“Should I go search for father? He’s with the King, I think, but he can’t be too busy.”
Dwalin shook her head violently, the clasps, that held what little hair could still get in her eyes back, clicked together at the motion. She hadn’t worn anything in her hair before, content to shave the sides of her head and not style it further, but she seemed to have picked up the habit in the time Balin had been away from home.
“No, Balin, please, I need ‘amad, please let me go home I need to see her.”
There was no way she could go home anymore, not with how far they had gone into the mountains by now. She wouldn’t make it alive if she turned back on her own, so nobody was left to return, and she knew that. Dwalin rarely was unreasonable or forgot such things, and this made Balin feel uneasier than just seeing his steadfast sister in tears.
Balin gently placed his hands on Dwalin’s shoulders, and as she didn’t resist he pulled her closer, letting his little sister curl up against his side.
“Should I help you find some Dam?” he asked. “Any of the older generals or healers if you want to?”
He had barely talked about it with them, but Balin knew that there were many Dwarrowdams who preferred to only speak to other Dams about their problems, and there always was someone to help the younger ones among the soldiers.
“No! It has to be Ma, I can’t talk to…” Dwalin pressed her lips together and didn’t say a word more.
“What is it you need to talk about?” Balin asked gently, rubbing her back. Perhaps she would trust him with the problem, he could help her just as much as their mother, surely.
“I did something terrible…” Dwalin muttered. “I just left and… it was a mistake.” She didn’t say more and from her tone Balin decided that it was best not to push her against her will.
After a few more moments of letting her brother hold her close, Dwalin tensed and sat up. Her face looked as stony as if she never even had been upset.
“I’ll go and practice,” she said, her tone gruff, and she picked up her axes and walked away from the firelight.
Balin watched her disappear into the darkness, towards the spot where some of the soldiers had sparred in the evening. He did not know what had gotten into her, couldn’t even begin to guess. Perhaps their father would know, but all three of them had seen little of each other the past few years, so they wouldn’t know what had happened in Dwalin’s life to judge.
With a sigh Balin took his pipe and took a drag from it, leaning back to watch the sky above. It looked like a storm might be gathering somewhere in the West, but soon enough they would be underneath the rocks and safe from wind and rain. He hoped that everything would be resolved on its own by then.