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Entry tags:
- dori,
- my writing,
- nori,
- ori,
- the hobbit
Fic: Family is Enough for Me
Fandom: The Hobbit
Word Count: 813
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Summary: Dori worries, all the time. He does his best to take care of them, in whatever small ways he can.
Dori heaved a sigh as the knocks continued at a frantic pace. It must have been very late; the fire was all but out in the hearth. He glanced instinctively towards the small hall that led to Ori’s small rooms, but everything looked aright.
He opened the door and Nori fell into the doorway.
Sadly, this was more normal than Dori would have wished, though he could never get over the heart-stopping fear when he saw how broken, how bloody, how beaten his brother looked. Nori lived on his own, and traveled often, so Dori never knew when Nori would appear like this, which made it all the worse.
“What did you get yourself into?” Dori said, voice snapping the way it was wont to do when he was nervous and upset.
Nori laughed through bloodstained teeth. “Ever the disappointment, aren’t I?”
Dori hefted Nori up – carefully, but quickly – and closed the door. Carrying Nori into his bedroom, he laid the younger dwarf on the heavy blankets and rough stone before striding briskly to the kitchen. Grabbing the nearest dishrag, he soaked it in the old dishwater and opened up his door. Thankfully, the streets were still clear, but – from experience – Dori glanced up to look at the stone roofs and upper passageways in the cliff walls to see if anyone lurked above. When he was sure it was clear, he looked down at the floor where Nori’s blood splattered in a shaking trail. Very quickly, he scrubbed the street clear, the doorway, and even moved down the street a bit looking to remove any trace that Nori went this way. Not too long, because for all he knew Nori was bleeding out in his bed, but tending to him would be worthless if whoever put Nori in this position could find where Nori went to ground.
As quickly as he could, he made his way back to the house, dumping the rag back into the dishwater and going up to the bath. It was connected to the house’s water basin, and brought water down into the bath. Ori and Dori kept it full, religiously topping it off every day before noon, which meant it was easy to bring water into a bowl.
He came out of the bath with the bowl in his hands and a small towel on his arm.
“Dor?”
Dori jerked, water spilling over his hands. “Ori, please head back to bed.”
Ori rubbed a fist against his eyes, his thin dwarrow-beard as messy as his ginger fluff on his head. “Is Nori back?”
“You’ll see him in the morning,” Dori whispered, shifting the bowl so he could run fingers over Ori’s small head. “Please get some sleep; you have your tutoring session in the early morning, remember.”
“I don’t want to miss Nori!” Ori said, voice creeping up to a whine.
Dori bit his lip. He didn’t have time to deal with this and it would be easier to just let Ori come in to the room and sleep next to Nori as Dori tended to him, but he didn’t want Ori to see the violence Nori was constantly exposed to. “Please, Ori,” he whispered. “I won’t let Nori leave without seeing you first.”
“You said that last time,” Ori muttered petulantly, but thankfully he wasn’t much older than a decade, still young enough that he didn’t want to disobey Dori directly. He padded back down the stairs to his carved out bedroom.
Dori leaned against the doorway, staring at the blanket-covered stone where Nori lay. He had no eyes for the blood staining the blanket, but for the lines on Nori’s forehead, the thinness of Nori’s arms, and the wear on Nori’s clothes.
His brothers were his life, his passion. He had, years and years ago, been one of the rough and tumble crowd with the guards of the young king, one of the best wrestlers and adept at all long-range weapons, though his favorite was the flail. Nowadays, he worked as a simple miner, hefting and lifting the beams that kept the tunnels upright. He worked hard to make enough money to pay for Ori’s tutors, because Ori’s passion was writing and art, poetry and maths. He worked hard.
Nori shifted, groaning, and Dori moved to the bed, setting the bowl on the night table. Nori’s eyes flickered open at the touch of the wet cloth, and it took him a moment to focus on Dori’s face. When he did, he smiled weakly.
“Always taking care of us, eh, Dor?”
Dori averted his eyes, motions brisk but gentle. “Someone has to take care of your fool self before you fill yourself with holes,” he grumbled.
“Thank you,” Nori whispered.
Dori didn’t have much, anymore, particularly after the fall of Erebor. But he had his brothers, and knowing they were safe and well was enough for him.
Word Count: 813
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Summary: Dori worries, all the time. He does his best to take care of them, in whatever small ways he can.
Dori heaved a sigh as the knocks continued at a frantic pace. It must have been very late; the fire was all but out in the hearth. He glanced instinctively towards the small hall that led to Ori’s small rooms, but everything looked aright.
He opened the door and Nori fell into the doorway.
Sadly, this was more normal than Dori would have wished, though he could never get over the heart-stopping fear when he saw how broken, how bloody, how beaten his brother looked. Nori lived on his own, and traveled often, so Dori never knew when Nori would appear like this, which made it all the worse.
“What did you get yourself into?” Dori said, voice snapping the way it was wont to do when he was nervous and upset.
Nori laughed through bloodstained teeth. “Ever the disappointment, aren’t I?”
Dori hefted Nori up – carefully, but quickly – and closed the door. Carrying Nori into his bedroom, he laid the younger dwarf on the heavy blankets and rough stone before striding briskly to the kitchen. Grabbing the nearest dishrag, he soaked it in the old dishwater and opened up his door. Thankfully, the streets were still clear, but – from experience – Dori glanced up to look at the stone roofs and upper passageways in the cliff walls to see if anyone lurked above. When he was sure it was clear, he looked down at the floor where Nori’s blood splattered in a shaking trail. Very quickly, he scrubbed the street clear, the doorway, and even moved down the street a bit looking to remove any trace that Nori went this way. Not too long, because for all he knew Nori was bleeding out in his bed, but tending to him would be worthless if whoever put Nori in this position could find where Nori went to ground.
As quickly as he could, he made his way back to the house, dumping the rag back into the dishwater and going up to the bath. It was connected to the house’s water basin, and brought water down into the bath. Ori and Dori kept it full, religiously topping it off every day before noon, which meant it was easy to bring water into a bowl.
He came out of the bath with the bowl in his hands and a small towel on his arm.
“Dor?”
Dori jerked, water spilling over his hands. “Ori, please head back to bed.”
Ori rubbed a fist against his eyes, his thin dwarrow-beard as messy as his ginger fluff on his head. “Is Nori back?”
“You’ll see him in the morning,” Dori whispered, shifting the bowl so he could run fingers over Ori’s small head. “Please get some sleep; you have your tutoring session in the early morning, remember.”
“I don’t want to miss Nori!” Ori said, voice creeping up to a whine.
Dori bit his lip. He didn’t have time to deal with this and it would be easier to just let Ori come in to the room and sleep next to Nori as Dori tended to him, but he didn’t want Ori to see the violence Nori was constantly exposed to. “Please, Ori,” he whispered. “I won’t let Nori leave without seeing you first.”
“You said that last time,” Ori muttered petulantly, but thankfully he wasn’t much older than a decade, still young enough that he didn’t want to disobey Dori directly. He padded back down the stairs to his carved out bedroom.
Dori leaned against the doorway, staring at the blanket-covered stone where Nori lay. He had no eyes for the blood staining the blanket, but for the lines on Nori’s forehead, the thinness of Nori’s arms, and the wear on Nori’s clothes.
His brothers were his life, his passion. He had, years and years ago, been one of the rough and tumble crowd with the guards of the young king, one of the best wrestlers and adept at all long-range weapons, though his favorite was the flail. Nowadays, he worked as a simple miner, hefting and lifting the beams that kept the tunnels upright. He worked hard to make enough money to pay for Ori’s tutors, because Ori’s passion was writing and art, poetry and maths. He worked hard.
Nori shifted, groaning, and Dori moved to the bed, setting the bowl on the night table. Nori’s eyes flickered open at the touch of the wet cloth, and it took him a moment to focus on Dori’s face. When he did, he smiled weakly.
“Always taking care of us, eh, Dor?”
Dori averted his eyes, motions brisk but gentle. “Someone has to take care of your fool self before you fill yourself with holes,” he grumbled.
“Thank you,” Nori whispered.
Dori didn’t have much, anymore, particularly after the fall of Erebor. But he had his brothers, and knowing they were safe and well was enough for him.