Heart of Embers (Thorin Oakenshield Love Story)

Chapter 61

The dwarves of Erebor had been given a small space in the Blue Mountains which they called their 'halls'. Compared to Erebor, they were nothing, nowhere near the grandeur and beauty of that mountain city, but it was a home, a place to live. It was more than anyone else had given them. As the two hundred that remained of the two thousand dwarves that had set out from Ered Luin finally returned, they received no welcoming cheers, no supporting crowds lined the streets.

The dwarves of Erebor trooped back to their lodgings in exile, forgotten, wearied and wounded, their host much smaller than when they set out.

No one noticed them, no one seemed to even acknowledge them, until one dwarf, one of the few remaining warriors of the King's Guard of Erebor, Arien realised, hurtled from the gates to their halls and skidded to a stop in front of Thorin.

"Thorin," he gasped. "I've been sent to find you."

Thorin took a step forward, eyes wide in dread of what was coming.

"It's Dis," the dwarf panted. "She's gone into labour, and it's not going well."

"What?" Thorin growled. "Where is she?"

"This way," the dwarf said.

Thorin moved, hurrying after him, but not without giving Arien a glance that told her to come. A glance that said

'I need you by my side.'

So she followed them, not only for Thorin, but for Dis. For her friend.

She caught up with them, and as she hurried beside him Arien could feel the tension and fear radiating off Thorin. Her heart constricted at the thought of how he cared so much for his family, his friends, at the thought of how much he had lost, who he had lost.

She knew he could not lose anyone else.

They passed through a stone archway.

Straight into Dis's chambers.

The Princess was on her back, chest heaving, hands fisted, face flushed slightly from the pain and exhaustion. She was mostly alone, save for the only surviving medic from the healers of Erebor, Oin, who could not do much for her but stood beside her nonetheless.

"Dis," Thorin breathed.

He crossed the room and knelt beside his sister's bed, taking her hand in his.

"Are you all right?" he asked her gently.

"Not particularly," she replied, with an attempt at her usual humour. Suddenly she let out a scream of pain and arced slightly off the bed. Thorin squeezed her hand tightly as she groaned.

"I'm glad you're here," she got out. "I was afraid... afraid you were dead."

"Shhh," he murmured gently.

"Where is Farin?" Dis's voice caught on her husband's name as another contraction seized her.

Thorin's throat bobbed as he bit his lip in his own grief.

"He... can't be here."

"No," the Princess whispered. "Please, no."

"I'm sorry," Thorin's voice broke. "He was not meant to die."

Tears streaked down Dis's face. "He was supposed to see his child. Both of them. No baby should be born without a father."

"I know," Thorin bowed his head. "There was so much he was supposed to do. To be."

Pain racked Dis's body again, and her cries of pain were mingled with her sobs. But she turned her face to bury it in her pillow. Thorin put an arm around her, the only comfort he could offer.