Chapter Text
Chapter Two
===ORI===
Ori stared at his hands.
These were not his hands.
His hands were knotted with age, callused by his years of wielding his axe as well as his quill. Rings of gold, silver and mithril adorned every finger, displaying his status as a Master of his Crafts and an advisor to the King.
These were not his hands. These hands were too small and too soft, covered with fraying fingerless gloves that were made from inexpensive un-dyed wool.
“Impossible.” He breathed, clinching his hands into tight fists. His fingernails bit into the woven fabric, catching it in the jagged edges of his chewed fingernails.
He had grown out of that habit; nail biting wasn’t something that a noble of Ori’s status did. Dori would have been appalled by his lack of etiquette had he gnawed on his fingers through a council meeting.
He stood slowly, cautiously, marveling slightly at the lack of pain in his joints and back even as he automatically shifted his body to accommodate the leg he had not yet lost in battle.
“Impossible.” He breathed, staring down at the limb he had not had for nearly a hundred years.
“This is a dream.” He told himself. He hated how uncertain he sounded. “I…I don’t understand. Am I dead?” He looked around with young eyes, unhindered by the grayness that had plagued his vision more and more through the years as he aged.
He knew this room…it’s bare, splintering walls and stained rotting floor. Dori had tried so hard to find them something new…something better. There was a straw mattress in the corner that served as his bed and a desk made out of a smooth slab of stone Dori had found for him. It was littered with rolls of cheap parchment and bottles of homemade ink.
He moved forward swiftly as he caught sight of a rather familiar journal.
His journal, the records he had painstakingly written of the Journey, was kept in the treasury along with all of the other great works in history. It was old, its cover soft with age and its pages yellowed, blemished and torn with the hardships of traveling in the care of an apprentice scribe on a suicide quest to reclaim a lost homeland.
Copies of it filled the homes of hundreds of dwarrows throughout the kingdoms.
This journal was new. Its cover was made of hard leather and each page was crisp and new, neatly bound together and each page even and smooth and it creaked, not with age but with disuse as he opened it to the first page.
It was blank, save for the date in the corner.
Today was the day.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around once more.
Most of his clothes and personal belongings were packed neatly into a worn travel bag that sat in the corner next to a small circle of polished obsidian that had served as his mirror.
He gazed into it now, his heart racing at the image gazing back at him.
He whimpered slightly as his ran his fingers through his short, mostly unadorned hair. His fingers found a simple family braid, tied with a familiar lavender ribbon that had once belonged to his mother. The only other braid was held in place by a simple wooden bead that declared him to be an apprentice to a scribe.
His fingers trembled as they moved downward, brushing against his sorry excuse for a beard. It was more fluff than hair and he found himself mourning the thick beard that had grown in as he had grown older.
“How is this possible…” he whispered, heart pounding.
“Ori!” A familiar voice called throughout the dilapidated hallways, and Ori’s heart began to race. “We have to make a trip to the markets before the journey, Nori will…Ori?”
Ori could only gasp as Dori, strong and beautiful Dori, stepped into his small room. Without hesitation he threw himself into his eldest brother’s arms and sobbed.
“Dori!” he gasped.
Immediately, those strong arms enfolded him in a comforting embrace. “Ori! What’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you ill?” Dori asked worriedly, trying to check for injuries even as he pulled Ori further into his arms.
Ori choked, unable to answer through his tears. Then, another voice called through the house.
“Dori! Ori! Let’s get a move on, we have to meet up with Bofur and his Kin before night-…What happened? Were you attacked?”
It was Nori, now balanced on the balls of his feet, daggers in both hands as he searched the room with a fierce expression for whatever had upset his youngest brother. Ori could only reach out to him.
“I just found him like this, he looked so lost and then as soon as he saw me…well, you saw.” Dori explained helplessly as Nori put away his daggers to take hold of Ori’s hand.
“N-nightmare.” Ori managed to croak, trying to collect himself. “It was just a nightmare.”
The elder Ri brothers shared an uneasy look.
“I knew it! He’s too young for this sort of quest!” Dori hissed. “It’s obviously terrified him, we aren’t going.”
Nori frowned but nodded, “Maybe you’re right, he is still young. There will be other, less dangerous quests…”
Ori’s eyes widened, they couldn’t possibly mean to leave him behind!
“No! I-I’m fine! I just…it was just a nightmare! I dreamt that I was alone…that you had left me! Please, don’t leave me behind.” He forced himself to beg. It wasn’t easy, he had been alone for so long and in charge of his own person that he could already feel himself grow frustrated by the restraints of being the youngest of the household. An uneasy weight settled on his chest and he carefully tried to breathe through it. He didn’t know what was going on but he knew that panicking wasn’t going to help.
Dori eyed him critically. “Are you sure? There is no shame in backing out. Master Balin would understand.” His eldest brother soothed.
Ori’s heart began to race. Master Balin…he was alive.
They were all alive.
What of Kili? Had he come back as well? Was Ori alone in this forgotten time? Why?
He gave a strained smile. “Of course I’m sure!” He managed to say, somewhat normally even as his heart raced.
Nori gave him an odd look but Dori nodded slowly.
“Let’s go before it gets too dark to travel, Orcs have become bolder lately and I don’t fancy having to come across a pack of them when they have the advantage.” Nori said after a moment of close scrutiny. “Grab your bag and that fancy book of yours; I’ll go saddle your pony.”
Ori nodded and Nori was gone. Dori lingered in the doorway.
“There is no shame in being afraid.” Dori told him gently. “The world, the real world, isn’t like your stories. There won’t be a pretty dam at the end or a glorious battle. We are going to desolate land to tempt the fury of a fire-drake. If there is a battle, it will not be glorious. It will be bloody, fast and terrifying.”
Ori stared at his gentle-hearted brother in astonishment. “Dori?”
Dori gave him a serious look. “I love you Ori and I want you to be prepared for whatever end. There is always a chance that Nori and I won’t survive this quest. Do you understand?”
His heart pounded fiercely. “Yes Dori…I understand.” He whispered and Dori gave him one last hug before moving to grab his own belongings.
“More than you know.”