#dwarrowtober day 12 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

concernedwriting · 3 years

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Dwarrowtober Challenge/ Prompt 1: Wandering.

-Takes place after the attack on erebor in TA.2770, prior to settlement in the Blue Mountains and the battle of Azanulbizar-

3rd person perspective. Mostly a retelling of accounts with small character input. Please excuse the quality, it’s a bit rushed because I’m a day behind.

Word count: 785

Warning: Mentions of blood, death, and childhood trauma.

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield (25.h-12.d), Frerin (20.h-10.d), Dis (11.h-5.d) Mentions of Smaug, Thrain II, and the sibings’ unnamed mother.

(.h= Human years and .d= Dwarven years in relation to their maturity for their race verses how many years theyve been alive)

Khazdul Translation: “Khazâd ai-mênu!” = “The Dwarves are upon you!”

It had been a year since the bastard lizard had attacked Erebor, leaving her people to wander, turned away when they sought aid and grieving the loss of their massacred kin.

Families had been torn apart, and those that had survived started dying off throughout the wandering. Whether it be the result of injuries they gained courtesy of Smaug, from wear and starvation on the road, or ambushes by orcs in the night taking those on the edges of camp and leaving nothing more in their stead than bloodied grounds and growing silences.

For this, as young as he was, Thorin could understand the lack of time and resources his parents had for him and his siblings; Frerin and Dis.

Father spent every hour leading those of their people still willing to follow the line of Durin, and keeping correspondence with Grandfather Thror, who had taken a small legion of dwarrow with him to the Blue Mountains in hopes of negotiating with their kin for sanctuary and a settlement for those who were left of the great Ereborian dwarves.

Mother, alongside their Grandmother and the small population of surviving Dwarrowdams, devoted herself to the care of those who were most vulnerable among the people, mainly being the elderly, young, and the injured.

The young prince, still a child himself, was largely left to raise his younger siblings in his parents' stead.

The three siblings of the line of Durin did their best daily to raise the morale of their people despite their own trauma; though Thorin held the most hope for Dis, that still being a babe she would at least hold no lasting memory of their struggles.

It was not all that uncommon to see the younger two, followed after by their brother, running about and playing as the dwarrow made their journey across Middle Earth. Games with the other children, many of who now orphaned, and pulling the adults into song groups to keep occupied was a daily routine.

To the older women baby Dis would bring flowers she had picked, with loud exclamations of “Up please!” so she would be lifted to messily poke said plant behind the ear of her chosen victims, and later a small babble of excitement with an affirmative nod of her head upon looking at her masterpiece and toddling away to the next.

Frerin ran a muck with all the younger children in their mock battles, typically a game of dwarves vs elves, chasing each other with sticks they had picked up and waved around as swords or axes. Sometimes, if persistent enough, some of the adults would be dragged into acting as orcs to be piled onto by dwarflings with shouts of “Attack!” and “Khazâd ai-mênu!”. The latter of which left old warriors fighting back laughter.

Outside of supervising his brother and sister or attempting to aid his father in organisational matters, Thorin, the more “mature” of the trio, spent most of his time pulling stories and tales of past battles out of the elders or warriors who were left with the group for protection. His insistence on hearing their accounts and his patience for their passionate rambling always brought a smile to the worn faces of those who humoured his curiosity.

At the end of each day, when the sun had worn through the sky, and the roaming people had begun to set up a campground; and after what little rations to go around from a small hunt was spread, the three would settle down for the night.

Huddled together by the side of a small fire, often at the base of a large tree in the middle of the camp, Thorin, Frerin, and Dis would lay watching the stars above and listening to the soft noises of those around them. Looking to Thorin, the younger two would call for the stories of adventure he had gathered that day, and, though always altered appropriately due to the age of his audience, the prince would happily obliged.

He would tell them stories of great Dwarves and Dams who came out on top against all the odds, and stories of their kin who ruled long before any of them were born. Embellished with little poems or rhymes, and animated with silly voices to humour them, his tales would keep the little ones entranced till the moon was far up in the sky.

Then, despite protests of “Please? Just one more?” and feigning that no, they were not sleepy at all in spite of their yawns and drooping eyes, Thorin would lay them to sleep. Lullabied by crickets, the crackling of fire, and a steadily sung song of their lost home.

Far over the misty mountains cold.

End note:

A massive thankyou to Mr.Kida the creator of this challenge!

#dwarrowtober #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #fanfic

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