A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 25

Out of the three of them, Dori knew what it was like to live alone the best.

His mother had been a beautiful Dwarf. With her flaming red hair, evergreen eyes, and challenging smile, she had charmed everyone she had met. She loved easily, forgave everyone, and never allowed her lowly status as the descended of a royal bastard get to her. She was fierce and wild like the wind; never bowing to anyone and never really settling in one place completely. Dori knew that he could live a thousand years and he would still miss his beautiful mother as much as he did the day she died.

But as mesmerizing as his mother had been, he could not say that she was a good parent. From the day he was born he had been shuffled off to the side and forgotten about until his mother needed something. He had learned to walk and talk without her. He had learned how to feed himself, clothe himself, and protect himself without her. And he learned to comfort himself when he was scared or lonely without her.

Sometimes Dori wished he could hate her for being such a shitty mother, but he really couldn't. His heart still yearned for her love and attention too much to resent her. And, in the long run, he knew that he was better off for it. Without his mother around, he had learned to be strong and how to take care of himself. These skills came in handy when Nori and Ori were born later on.

The day his mother placed Nori in his arms, she had told him to watch him and take care of him before leaving. He took one look at his baby brother and fell in love. At long last he was no longer alone. He had someone to love and comfort and keep him company. For once in his life, Dori finally knew what it was like to love and be loved in return.

He tried his best to raise his brother, but it was hard trying to be an adult when you were still only a child. And as Nori grew up, it became obvious that he had inherited more than their mother's eyes and lips and fingers. He had also gotten her wild and fierce drive and ability to charm anyone he met. Those traits had brought him more trouble than Dori cared to think about. In the beginning, he could combat it, but as Nori grew, he became more restless and independent. He wanted to be free of his older brother's overprotective ways and chaffed at his constant nagging. Dori reluctantly pulled away and gave his brother his chance at life even though it left him alone again.

But he was strong and so he took it in stride. Even after Erebor fell and they were forced to flee to the cities of Men, his mother and brother still wandered away from him. He dealt with it and focused on saving coin and keeping track of them when they disappeared for days on end. It was not a happy life, but it was not horrible either, and Dori counted his blessings and moved on.

Then one day Ori was born.

In many ways, Ori felt more like his child than his brother. As with Nori, their mother had left Ori with him to be raised before leaving again. With the large age gap between them and their absent mother, Dori became both mother and father and brother to Ori. He was the one who fed him and changed him and sang him to sleep. He taught him how to walk and talk and read and sing and sew and so many other little details of life. Ori became everything and for once in a long time Dori found that he was not alone.

When their mother finally passed away—and how strange it was to him to be an orphan at his age—Nori finally came back to stay. He still wandered occasionally, of course, but he didn't stay away as long as before, and he always came back. With his two brothers there with him, Dori felt like he had a family again. That he wasn't alone anymore and would never be again.

Being alone for so long meant he was quite good at spotting it in others. He could see it in Bifur's eyes and Thorin's shoulders and in Bilbo's smiles. Sometimes he even caught a glimpse of it in Gandalf, but it was fleeting and rare. He could not say why any of them would feel isolated when surrounded by so many who loved them, and it was really not his place to ask. But what Dori did know was that solitude was a crippling experience that could eat you up inside. He had spent so many years alone that he could not stand the idea of seeing any of his friends—his family—go through it too. So he silently swore to himself that he would stay with the Company and his brothers for as long as they needed him.