literature

Dis' Story - Part 38

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The Lonely Mountain was expensive, they said.
For the Dwarves to return, a price there was.

The cost of Erebor was three Royal lives...and in the year 2941 of the Third Age, that was the price that had been paid.

Now Dis could finally return to the Mountain where she had lived for the first 10 years of her life with no fear of any dragons.
It should have been a happy occasion...

~~~~~~~~~~

The victorious Dwarves saw her coming from afar, across the Desolation of Smaug.
She was alone.
Arrayed in black mourning garments, Dis, and the pony that bore her, were returning to the Mountain like a lonely droplet of shadow.
A black hood covered her face and Balin saw nothing of her until she dismounted before the gates of Erebor.
It was not the glorious return she had longed for all those years.

"Lady Dis? There are no words to express our sorrow," Balin had said, struggling against the onslaught of his own tears.
Dis saw the rest of the surviving company who had gone with Thorin through pain and fire and victory. They stood together, each mourning for their lost companions. They were hurt, wounded, miserable...
Dis said nothing.
Her face was deathly pale...and unstained.

Not a single tear had been shed.

She had wept for years over the course of her life and had cast so many tears in that time that there were few tears left.

Dain and the others lead her to the tombs, far beneath the Mountain, to a large chamber stood apart. 
Men and Elves and Dwarves all dipped their heads as she passed them yet she barely gave them a glance. She did not even feel the need to question why they were there. 

Dis went in alone.

The tomb was empty. 
It was large and vast, but was empty...save for the grave in the centre.
Dis walked down into the room, taking out from her robes, a candle. Lighting it, she moved forward and stopped before a broad, square grave of white marble.
It was too large to be holding just one Dwarf. 

Dwarven runes were carved on top:

                                                        HERE LIES THORIN II OAKENSHIELD
                                                                    AND HIS SISTER-SONS
                                                                         FILI LIONHEART
                                                                                  AND
                                                                       KILI SWIFTARROW

                                                 PRINCES OF EREBOR OF THE HOUSE OF DURIN
 
                                                    Having given their lives for their kingdom
                                               they rest together with the Heart of the Mountain.
                                                                                ~~~~
                                                               May their memory never fade

 
 
Dis read this and looked up.
Above the grave loomed a large memorial statue, still partly unfinished.
It would be of Thorin and Fili and Kili.
Her boys.
Her boys as she would remember them.
 
Now Dis finally lost her last few tears. They trickled from her eyes were they had been released and were spent.
 
Except for one tear.

One tear she held back.

One tear was kept.
Part 38 - The final misery has been lived but it will last. Over 100 years later after That Day, Dis returns home to the Mountain that was taken from her. But the price was dear...very, very dear...

Tolkien is responsible for all this sadness. But I still admire him.
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ishi2000's avatar
*cry* OH TOLKIEN! I'm sorry he made you do this.