Hobbit Reader Inserts

See You Again - Dwalin x Reader

A/n: This is a record for shortest time between chapters... Also warning for semi-descriptive gore and stuff, it's a battle, what do you expect?
...
Shifting his arm in the stiff sling, Dwalin looked over the battlefield that lay before Erebor. It was empty now, except for the thousands of bodies of orcs and the odd dwarf or elf that hadn't been collected by the healers yet. The image struck something deep within the old warrior, ringing of a time long ago, and a battle just as bloody. Both days he had felt a grief enter his heart. Both days he knew it would never leave him.
Today, the King had been struck down, along with his two heirs. Dwalin had witnessed the death of the eldest prince, and was informed of the youngest's upon reaching the healing tents. He knelt with the others at the body of the King. For all he wept bitterly, having helped raise Fili and Kili, and to have been an old and loyal friend to Thorin.
The last time he had felt the same weight of fresh grief was a long time ago, in distant fields. Azanulbizar, they called it. Many fought there, but not nearly as many survived.
...
"If you keep dealing it to the tree you won't have the energy to kick the arses of any orc scum."
Dwalin stopped spinning his axe into the trunk of an old oak to smirk and turn, arms folded over his chest.
"And yet I'd still fight better than you." He teased, watching as you stepped into the light. You were dressed in full armour except your helmet, ready for war, two axes strapped up on your back.
"I'd take you up on that bet but Thorin would murder me if I got you injured." Taking out one of your axes and leaning on it, you smirked back. Leaving his own weapon in the the tree, Dwalin walked over and planted a kiss on your forehead, skimming a thumb over your cheek.
"Tha's my girl, always lookin' out fer me." His smile softened as you smiled back, moving your hand to cover his own. With a sweet smile on your warrior's face, you pushed your free hand through the dark mohawk that sat on Dwalin's head, making him chuckle.
"If you two are quite finished..." A bored voice echoed behind you. Rolling your (e/c) eyes, you turned your head to view Thorin staring at his nails, obviously uncomfortable with the rare and tender moment.
"Thorin, dear, I know you're emotionally inept but look on the bright side, you could've caught us doing something much, much worse."
At that, Thorin looked up and went slightly red. Behind you, Dwalin snorted, rather enjoying the irritated look on his friend's face.
"Yes, well," The prince muttered, "I was wondering if you'd seen Frerin? I want to make sure he stays here when we fight. He's too young to join us."
You grow solemn and nod, reminded of what faced you tomorrow.
"No, sorry. Not round here."
"Try back out by the armoury tent?"
A frown graced Thorin's face and he nodded his thanks, turning and marching back towards the main camp. Sighing, you watched him walk away. The feeling of a hand on your shoulder broke you out of your dark thoughts.
"In a couple of days," Dwalin said softly, moving his hands to around your waist. "We'll be moving the rubble from the doors, and we'll finally have a place to call home."
You smiled wistfully, summoning up images of light halls and laughter and feasting.
"No dragons... No fear... Somewhere safe."
Dwalin nuzzled your neck.
"A good home for a family." He murmured. Leaning back against his chest, you closed your eyes.
"A place to call home."
...
Naturally, they were wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. The orcs had occupied the tunnels in their millions, outnumbering the dwarvish army vastly. It was sheer luck and determination that you made it anywhere near the doors. Even then, the loss was excruciating. The King had been decapitated, his son lost and his eldest grandson stood alone against the Pale Orc, Azog. With renewed strength, the army charged upon the gates, but it was in vain. They were cast back by the orcs and left within arms reach of their safe haven.
Dwalin had never seen battle like it. It was fierce and bloody; never had he seen so many bodies piled up in mangled heaps that frequented the ground so much that you had little to no space to stand on. He had been separated from everyone during the fighting, even you, whom he instructed to stay close. Of course you didn't listen. You never did. Every so often, the dwarf would stop and bow his head in memory of another comrade he could see torn up on the floor. He had seen no sign of you or his brother, but Thorin could be seen on the horizon, surveying the bloodbath with eagle eyes filled with anger and grief. For hours he searched, but nothing could be found to lead him to where you may be.
It was the crying that caught his attention first. Soft sobs, barely held back, muffled as if through fabric. He felt a wave of pain wash through him as he thought of another dwarf finding one of their kin in the dirt, stained in blood. The wave turned into a tsunami when he saw his brother, kneeling by a stretched out body. Time stopped as he saw the helmet by his knees, and the shattered axe on his lap. Dwalin stumbled over, dropping to his knees at your side.
"Brother..." Croaked out Balin, a gloved hand pressed to his mouth. "She died honourably... Trying to save Prince Frerin... There was nothing I could do... For either of them..."
Frerin. Dwalin was going to kill that royal brat for not just staying back like he was-!
Trying... Nothing I could do...
Dwalin let out a sob. You were both dead. You had both given your lives.
It would be a lie to say no small part of Dwalin blamed himself. He detested himself. He had let you fight, he had let you get separated. He had let you die. Every inch of him ached, from fighting or grief he did not know. All he knew for certain was that you were gone and it was his fault.
Lifting your limp form into his arms, Dwalin held you close and screamed.