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It was bitterly cold on the day they finally reached the Blue Mountains, and the settlements there. The first snow had already fallen, covering the ground in a thin layer of white.
Once, Dís could have found beauty in the frozen landscape, could have enjoyed the soft crunch of the dead leaves underfoot, but no more. She had buried all thoughts of beauty on the battlefield of Azanulbizar.
What use had finery, had jewels, had gold, when her people were starving, were wandering the world with no place to call their own?
The Blue Mountains were a desperate bid to at last find a place to settle again. Gabilgathol and Tumunzahar, those cities of old were lost to them, but Thorin hoped that they would find enough ore in the upper veins to establish trade for grain and other foodstuff. Perhaps then they could finally have a home again, though it would be a far call from the splendour of their stolen kingdoms.
Dís prayed that he was right. Their people would not survive much longer if he was not.
She caught her mother’s arm as Frís stumbled, legs heavy with exhaustion.
“Almost there, amad,” she whispered.
Her smile did not reach her eyes.
He had been the first to spot the people slowly making their way up the valley. Víli was always the first to spot these things. He roamed far from the valley on the hunt, trading furs and meat when he returned. Sometimes, someone would ask him to run messages from one village to the next. It appeared that this time he would deliver more news than just the letters tucked into his pack.
He watched the caravan for a moment longer. They almost looked like pearls on a string. His father sometimes brought pearls home when he went down the coast to trade with the elven settlements there.
Víli always admired their smooth shimmer, but what was perhaps even more admirable was his mother’s ability to string them up one by one and turn them into beautiful necklaces. He had inherited her quick fingers, but Víli had also found quickly that he didn’t have her eye for what would look beautiful together, and which precious stones and metals should never be set side by side.
So instead of following in her footsteps as a jeweller, he had picked up a bow and now he made his life as a hunter. It was for the best, even if he sometimes missed sleeping under a roof every night.
“Truly, I cannot thank you enough, Lady Freya. It is a relief to know that the most vulnerable amongst my people will not have to spend another night in the cold.”
The older dwarf took Dís’ hands in her own.
“We are happy to open our homes to you. We might not have much, but what we have we share. I hope you will rest easy tonight, daughter.”
“I think I will.”
Dís looked over to her mother, sitting in front of the fire with a child on her lap. The boy had been orphaned by the battle.
They had done their best to do right by the children left behind and Frís had taken charge to ensure they were well cared for.
It helped distract her from her own grief to have the little ones underfoot, and if it took a child’s antics to put a smile on her mother’s face again, Dís would happily have them around. Then she turned to Freya once more.
“Please excuse me now. I should check in with my brother and the others, before the hour grows too late.”
Freya nodded. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you. I will take good care of your mother and the children, I promise.”
Dís took a deep breath as soon as she stood outside Freya’s home. The frigid air almost made her miss the warmth of the fireplace, but there was still work to do. Perhaps the time would come again to enjoy an evening in front of a roaring fire, but it was not tonight.
She walked past the row of wooden houses that marked the main road of this settlement. It was strange to see her kin live in buildings, instead of caverns hewn into the stone. Dís wondered whether the mountains around them were not stable enough to maintain such homes, or whether the dwarrow living here simply lacked the knowledge to build them. If it was the latter, perhaps that could be a good place to settle in the long term…
“Good evening!”
The dwarf who called out the greeting was blond, with a bow in one hand and a satchel slung across his back.
For a brief moment, Dís thought it was Frerin calling out to her, but the illusion shattered quickly. Aside from the hair colour, the other dwarf had nothing in common with her dead brother. He was lean where Frerin had been broad, and his beard was cropped short, presumably so it would not get tangled up in his bow string. He smiled at her, and Dís tried to muster up a smile in return.
“Good evening to you, too.” She glanced at the bow and the nearly empty quiver of arrows. “I hope your hunts were successful.”
He grinned. “I can’t complain! We’ll be glad for the meat and the additional furs when winter really hits us. It’s been a good year, but it never hurts to have a little extra.”
Dís nodded. “Indeed.”
For a moment, they were both just looking at each other silently, before Dís gestured into the direction where she had last seen Thorin.
“I really need to go now, have a good night.” And she started to walk away quickly.
Now it was the other dwarf’s turn to nod. “Of course. I hope you have a good night, too.”
Dís had nearly reached the village square, if it could be called that, when she heard him shout, “The name is Víli, by the way!”
When she turned around, he gave her an elaborate bow, and then disappeared between two houses.
Against her will, Dís could feel a small smile form on her face.