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Fandom: The Hobbit
Word Count: 986
Pairing: implied Dwalin/Dis, unrequited
Summary: Dwalin doesn't agree with his brother's quest, but no one knows why. Except, of course, a quick-witted theif who sees the trouble on the horizon.
Dwalin hefted the axe and brought it down, splitting the pieces of wood again and again.
“This anger is unproductive.”
Dwalin grunted. “Looks pretty productive to me,” he growled, heaving the axe.
Balin sighed, looking around. “We have more wood than we know what to do with.”
“Sell it. Or whittle it. Or do what pleases you with it; I care not.”
“I am not – this is not because of anything you or anyone did,” Balin said.
Dwalin didn’t respond at all, simply brought the axe down again with a resounding crack.
“Do I get no words of farewell?” Balin asked, and there, that was Balin’s temper Dwalin knew.
“You are foolish.” Dwalin chopped again, and then growled, “But a live fool is better than a dead one. Watch your back.”
“You could come with me, brother,” Balin repeated.
Since Dwalin had already made his thought and positions clear on Balin’s quest, he didn’t dignify that with an answer.
Heaving a sigh, Balin came up behind Dwalin and placed a hand on Dwalin’s upper arm – Balin had always been smaller, shorter, than the younger brother. A scholar, a learned dwarf, a respected arbiter. Dwalin had done his best to live up to his older brother’s and his father’s example, but he hadn’t the head for what they did. There was no shame in that, he knew – Mahal blessed his people with their own talents and strengths – but it didn’t change the fact that Dwalin did not relate to his father and brother in the same way they could relate to one another. His father, of course, supported the quest.
Mahal, but even their prince and king understood it. It was only Dwalin, just a mere year past his coming of age, who would not give his blessing on it.
Balin patted Dwalin’s back awkwardly, and then walked away.
Dwalin hefted the axe again.
“Thought he would never leave.”
Dwalin’s head jerked up to peer into the branches of the tree. A russet-haired dwarf lounged on a branch, smirking down at Dwalin, and Dwalin bit back the instinctive snarl. Nori was a trouble-maker, the younger brother of Balin’s good friend, Dori, and had been a sickly young dwarrow. Now, as a dwarf only two years or so away from his majority, Nori was a devil in disguise – charming, fast-talking, and fingers lighter than feathers as they brushed past pockets of good people. “What do you want,” Dwalin snarled, leaning his weight on the axe and scowling up at him.
With a slight hop and a little wiggle, Nori dropped from the branches and sauntered over to Dwalin. “You to smile, perhaps?”
When all that happened was a deeper frown, Nori sighed. “Or for you to stop this foolishness. The axe and the wood did nothing to you. You have been out here for half the day, and for what?”
“Not pounding on the heads of those who deserve it seems a good reason,” Dwalin snapped. Nori had the unfortunate effect of making Dwalin lose his temper all the quicker, and he never appreciated the sharp words or taunts that Nori launched at Dwalin.
Laughing, Nori kicked the piece of wood. “And so this, creating enough wood to fuel the entire village, this is the better option? Come, I know why you are upset, and that kind of hurt will not go away with physical activity. Or, at least, not this kind of physical activity.”
Dwalin bared his teeth and advanced menacingly on Nori. “And what would you know of what bothers me?” he demanded. “What knowledge would you give?”
Nori’s face abruptly became solemn, and resigned. “Because it bothers me, too, that Dis is still a good decade away from her maturity and yet the king seeks to sell her off to another clan. That the king’s greediness is crippling his family – aye, you may turn away, but it is true!”
Dwalin had turned his back, but when Nori raised his voice, he paused, hand on his axe.
“It is true! The king demands ever more in tribute from the elves, and it does not sit easy with them. The ancient sickness is upon him—”
“Hush!” Dwalin shouted, whirling around and clasping a hand over Nori’s mouth. Those brown eyes stared fearlessly up into Dwalin’s own, and Dwalin swallowed before removing his fingers. “Hush. That talk is not tolerated.”
“You know it is wrong, like I. You are not upset that the king chose Balin to complete this task, and did not trust you with it. You are upset that the task exists. Dis is too young, and Thorin and Frerin are too cowed by their grandfather to speak up against it. And their father – pah.” Nori spit on the ground. “He is a weak-willed prince, and had his wife lived she would not stand for her children being treated thus.” Nori stopped, and then his face became sympathetic, quiet. “It also does not escape my notice that you are very close to Dis.”
Dwalin felt his cheeks flush, and he glanced at the ground.
“I am observant, or an eavesdropper, whichever you claim to call me,” Nori said with a faint laugh. “But you are right. Your brother should not be on a task such as this.”
“He obeys the king,” Dwalin said quietly. “As do I.”
And if he wished a little to himself that Dis did not marry Ghili, that the sickness had not settled in the old king and madness had not settled in the new, if he wished that his closest friend and companion had not had the duty of being king thrust too soon on such young shoulders, well.
The sons of Fundin, like their father and their father’s father and their ancestors throughout the ages, stood by the throne as supporters, guards, and friends. And he would serve as best as he could for as long as he could.
Word Count: 986
Pairing: implied Dwalin/Dis, unrequited
Summary: Dwalin doesn't agree with his brother's quest, but no one knows why. Except, of course, a quick-witted theif who sees the trouble on the horizon.
Dwalin hefted the axe and brought it down, splitting the pieces of wood again and again.
“This anger is unproductive.”
Dwalin grunted. “Looks pretty productive to me,” he growled, heaving the axe.
Balin sighed, looking around. “We have more wood than we know what to do with.”
“Sell it. Or whittle it. Or do what pleases you with it; I care not.”
“I am not – this is not because of anything you or anyone did,” Balin said.
Dwalin didn’t respond at all, simply brought the axe down again with a resounding crack.
“Do I get no words of farewell?” Balin asked, and there, that was Balin’s temper Dwalin knew.
“You are foolish.” Dwalin chopped again, and then growled, “But a live fool is better than a dead one. Watch your back.”
“You could come with me, brother,” Balin repeated.
Since Dwalin had already made his thought and positions clear on Balin’s quest, he didn’t dignify that with an answer.
Heaving a sigh, Balin came up behind Dwalin and placed a hand on Dwalin’s upper arm – Balin had always been smaller, shorter, than the younger brother. A scholar, a learned dwarf, a respected arbiter. Dwalin had done his best to live up to his older brother’s and his father’s example, but he hadn’t the head for what they did. There was no shame in that, he knew – Mahal blessed his people with their own talents and strengths – but it didn’t change the fact that Dwalin did not relate to his father and brother in the same way they could relate to one another. His father, of course, supported the quest.
Mahal, but even their prince and king understood it. It was only Dwalin, just a mere year past his coming of age, who would not give his blessing on it.
Balin patted Dwalin’s back awkwardly, and then walked away.
Dwalin hefted the axe again.
“Thought he would never leave.”
Dwalin’s head jerked up to peer into the branches of the tree. A russet-haired dwarf lounged on a branch, smirking down at Dwalin, and Dwalin bit back the instinctive snarl. Nori was a trouble-maker, the younger brother of Balin’s good friend, Dori, and had been a sickly young dwarrow. Now, as a dwarf only two years or so away from his majority, Nori was a devil in disguise – charming, fast-talking, and fingers lighter than feathers as they brushed past pockets of good people. “What do you want,” Dwalin snarled, leaning his weight on the axe and scowling up at him.
With a slight hop and a little wiggle, Nori dropped from the branches and sauntered over to Dwalin. “You to smile, perhaps?”
When all that happened was a deeper frown, Nori sighed. “Or for you to stop this foolishness. The axe and the wood did nothing to you. You have been out here for half the day, and for what?”
“Not pounding on the heads of those who deserve it seems a good reason,” Dwalin snapped. Nori had the unfortunate effect of making Dwalin lose his temper all the quicker, and he never appreciated the sharp words or taunts that Nori launched at Dwalin.
Laughing, Nori kicked the piece of wood. “And so this, creating enough wood to fuel the entire village, this is the better option? Come, I know why you are upset, and that kind of hurt will not go away with physical activity. Or, at least, not this kind of physical activity.”
Dwalin bared his teeth and advanced menacingly on Nori. “And what would you know of what bothers me?” he demanded. “What knowledge would you give?”
Nori’s face abruptly became solemn, and resigned. “Because it bothers me, too, that Dis is still a good decade away from her maturity and yet the king seeks to sell her off to another clan. That the king’s greediness is crippling his family – aye, you may turn away, but it is true!”
Dwalin had turned his back, but when Nori raised his voice, he paused, hand on his axe.
“It is true! The king demands ever more in tribute from the elves, and it does not sit easy with them. The ancient sickness is upon him—”
“Hush!” Dwalin shouted, whirling around and clasping a hand over Nori’s mouth. Those brown eyes stared fearlessly up into Dwalin’s own, and Dwalin swallowed before removing his fingers. “Hush. That talk is not tolerated.”
“You know it is wrong, like I. You are not upset that the king chose Balin to complete this task, and did not trust you with it. You are upset that the task exists. Dis is too young, and Thorin and Frerin are too cowed by their grandfather to speak up against it. And their father – pah.” Nori spit on the ground. “He is a weak-willed prince, and had his wife lived she would not stand for her children being treated thus.” Nori stopped, and then his face became sympathetic, quiet. “It also does not escape my notice that you are very close to Dis.”
Dwalin felt his cheeks flush, and he glanced at the ground.
“I am observant, or an eavesdropper, whichever you claim to call me,” Nori said with a faint laugh. “But you are right. Your brother should not be on a task such as this.”
“He obeys the king,” Dwalin said quietly. “As do I.”
And if he wished a little to himself that Dis did not marry Ghili, that the sickness had not settled in the old king and madness had not settled in the new, if he wished that his closest friend and companion had not had the duty of being king thrust too soon on such young shoulders, well.
The sons of Fundin, like their father and their father’s father and their ancestors throughout the ages, stood by the throne as supporters, guards, and friends. And he would serve as best as he could for as long as he could.
