Chapter Text
“I feel old.” Kili groaned, reaching up to remove the heavy stone crown from his graying plaited locks.
“Forgive me your Majesty, but you ARE old.” Ori stated drolly, grinning cheekily at his oldest friend. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”
Kili glared lightly before he sighed heavily and leaned back against his throne gracelessly.
“I can’t believe it’s been nearly two hundred years.” He whispered, wiping his hand over his face roughly.
“I can.” Ori whispered, eyes distant.
Kili turned to look at his smaller companion. Ori had always been slight for a dwarf but Kili wasn’t a fool. He knew that his friend was as strong as any dwarrow, if not stronger.
It was a Ri family gift that even Nori had possessed, though the thief had never been as strong as his brothers. Dori had been the strongest of them all.
Over time, Ori had given up his hand-knitted cardigans in favor of elaborately decorated robes and the fine jewelry they wore for Court. He’d also given up his child-like hair style in favor of a more ornamented arrangement of braids that blended in seamlessly with his thick beard. He was now a dwarf of some standing, Kili’s most trusted advisor and best friend.
A friend who bore a look of deep sorrow.
“Ori?” He asked tentatively.
“I cannot remember their faces.” Ori whispered.
Kili frowned. “Whose faces Ori?”
“My brothers.” The elderly scribe confided. “As a lad, after losing them it was simply too painful to capture their images onto paper. I was so angry for the longest time…angry at them for dying and leaving me behind, angry at myself for not saving them, angry at Thorin for dragging them on that Mahal-forsaken quest…I burned everything I had that reminded me of them and now-“ He choked, “Now I have nothing, not even my own memory of them.”
Kili sighed heavily, “Images of Thorin haunt my steps.” He told his friend, motioning to a smaller statue off to the side of the hall where a visage of his beloved uncle stood his face forever unsmiling and grim, a gift from Dain for his coronation.
“Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain. The King who reclaimed Erebor.” He stated, then shook his head. “He would have made a better King than I. Fili would have made a better King. I should have never worn the Crown, I never wanted the throne. I cannot bear look at their images without wondering if they’d be proud of what I’ve done here as King.”
Ori gripped his shoulder firmly. “They would be proud of you Ki. They both loved you dearly. They died for you.” He stated firmly. “Do not dishonor their sacrifice by regretting all that you’ve accomplished in their name.”
“Reminiscing again my dear Kili?”
Kili and Ori stood as an aged dwarrowdam shuffled into the room, her back bowed with age and her hair as white as freshly fallen snow.
“Amad! I thought you were in the dining hall.” Kili said with a bright smile, stooping slightly to press his brow to hers in a gentle brush of affection.
“I was, but the pair of you left me waiting long enough, our food will be cold by the time you finally make your way to the hall.”
Kili chuckled. “Forgive me amad; allow me to escort you on the return journey.” He declared gallantly, bowing low.
“Don’t you try and charm me young man, I know all your tricks.” She scolded, though she was smiling widely.
“Hardly young anymore amad, I’ll be 297 years old this coming year after all.”
“Are you calling me old?”
“Don’t you know my lady? A Amad never grows old.” Ori told her with a fond smile. She chuckled, accepting his arm as he offered to escort her himself.
“You’re a good lad Ori, Dori would have been so very proud of you.” Dis told the former scribe gently. Ori smiled sadly and nodded.
“I like to think so.”
“Amad? Are you well?” Kili asked as Dis began to slow. “You look tired.”
“Dear Kili, I had the most wonderful dream last night.” Dis told him with a smile. “We were as we are now though Thorin was here with Fili at his side while you were laughing. Fili was regaling you with yet another one of his stories and you looked so happy dear Kili that I could not bear to sleep any longer.”
Kili swallowed thickly. “Oh Amad,” He rasped. “I would do anything to have your dream become a reality.” He told her fiercely. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have them live again, even if it meant my own death.”
“Oh Kili…” Dis sobbed, allowing her only living son to draw her into his embrace.
“I would die with you if it meant my own brothers would live, though I know they would never forgive me.” Ori added, giving Kili a sympathetic smile. “But our time has come and gone. All we can do is look forward to the future and pray that our loved ones will be there for us, when the time comes, in the Halls of Waiting with forgiveness in their hearts.”
“But, if you could, would change it?” Dis asked suddenly coming to a halt, her eyes were unnaturally bright and no longer a warm brown but a harsh gold. Kili frowned slightly, sharing a sharp look with Ori as she clutched his tunic tightly between her frail hands.
“Amad?” he asked warily. “What-“
“If you could, would you return to save them? All of them?” She asked urgently, her grip tightening.
Kili nodded slowly, exchanging a worried look with his friend. “Aye, as selfish as it sounds yes, I would return to save them.” He told her slowly.
She released him, seeming suddenly even wearier as the unnatural brightness of her gaze faded as though it had never been. “I am tired dear Kili, I no longer wish for supper. Will you escort me to my chambers instead?” she asked, swaying on her feet. Kili quickly steadied her.
“Of course Amad, would you like me to send for your attendant?” he asked, eyes already searching for one of the guards in the shadows. A fierce eyed young dwarrow swiftly detached from the ranks and moved briskly toward the royal chambers to find one of the attendants he had found to care for her.
“Please, I do not think I’ll be up late this evening.” She sighed.
“Good evening Lady Dis.” Ori said gently as he excused himself. “I hope you rest well.”
“Good evening young Ori.” She told him one last time, allowing Kili to guide her away.
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Early the next morning, Ori stood next to his King as Kili wept silently over his mother’s cold body. The physician, a young lord by the name of Noro, did not have to say a word as he packed up his numerous instruments and left them to grieve.
It was times like these that the two dwarrows wished that Oin were still alive. The old dwarf had always been a strong presence and a comfort though he pretended to be a cantankerous old miser.
“Do you think she knew?” Kili asked hoarsely. His graying beard was disheveled and soaked with tears. It was unadorned as he ran his fingers through it sharply; a bad habit Dis had spent centuries trying to cure him of.
Ori sighed. “I could not say. Lady Dis is…was always more than the common dwarrowdam. I would not put it past her.”
“I don’t want to be alone Ori. I couldn’t bear it.” Kili confided.
“Come my old friend,” Ori coaxed. “allow Noro to do his job. We must attend to our duties and inform the kingdom of her passing. When should we hold the ceremony?”
“Two days hence, on Durin’s day at last light. She’d like that.” Kili chuckled bitterly. “We will bury her alongside Thorin. She was a Queen and deserves to be among Kings.”
Ori nodded, “She was indeed. Come, Gimli should still have some of his father’s old stash somewhere in his possession. Let’s go see if we can liberate him of a swallow or two after we make the announcement.”
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“Ow, Mahal-cursed…what the hell was in that gut-rot?” Kili groaned as he came to, head pounding fiercely. He reached up to wipe his face clear of the drool that had collected at the corner of his mouth.
He froze as his hand slid over rough stubble rather than his impressive, substantial beard and he let out a blood-curdling shriek.