Born from Stone (A Thorin Oakenshield story)

*While you sleep dream of me

"My love?"

Fili heard the familiar and more than beloved voice through a sleepy haze that was too heavy on his pained body. He had fallen asleep right next to his uncle in the most uncomfortable position ever and only that voice was able to draw him out of that deep slumber. His wound was screaming in pain and his head was swimming with dizziness, but the warm embrace on his back felt was so affectionate that his heart skirted. He opened his eyes slowly and smiled sadly. "Mother?"

Her arms wrapped around his chest and her head pressed on his nape. "My darling boy....my boy....my boy." Her voice was broken and each word was coming out with difficulty as her hot breath scorched his skin.

His hands clutched hers almost in despair. "Mother?" he stuttered.

She held him tighter than before, close to her, protectively, not allowing him out to pull away from her caring arms. As for her worried fingers they felt around, traced, touched, searched. His face, his hair, his hands, his wound... "Where is it? Where did those filths hurt you my love?" She muttered with a flustered countenance that could barely contain her deep concern for the well being of her only surviving child.

His hand pointed at his back vaguely. Dis' demeanour plunged as her fingers offered a trembling touch to the bulge under his tunic. She inhaled sharply. "I am so sorry my love...please forgive me for not being there...I am so sorry..."

He turned around and pulled her in his arms with such need that they both began sobbing hard. "Don't..." He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes tight.

They remained like that enfolded in each other for a long time. Bali, Dwalin and Oin closed the door behind them respectfully and took Dain with them, as he was the one who had escorted the ladies up here. Eilin stood close to the fireplace utterly stunned, with her frozen fingers twisting firmly against each other, unable to draw her eyes away from the bloody face of the King who was laying still and completely unaware of the emotional turmoil that his family was going through, right next to his bedside.

Dis felt her knees unlocking from the burden that her soul was carrying and emptied her exhausted body on a chair next to her son. Then she drew Fili's head on her shoulder and gifted his sweaty temple with dozens of kisses meant to soothe his pain away. Her long elegant fingers were lingering above the tourniquet on his back, barely daring to touch him. Tenderly tracing the point of impact while she silently prayed for his health. She held him close to her bosom cradling him as if he was still a young dwarfling instead of a valiant warrior Prince, ready to sacrifice himself for his kingdom. She yearned to stop his tears, whilst she was unable to do the same for herself.

Eilin removed her eyes respectfully from the Princess and her son and turned them to the bedridden King, consuming every detail of his wounded and pale face. The moment they reached the grumbled gates of Erebor she was overcome by dreaded apprehension as she didn't feel ready to meet the legendary Oakenshield yet. She was simply unwilling to see the real face of this mighty King and destroy the imaginary picture she had created for him from the stories that her best friend Rhiannon told her during some cold and rainy nights inside a silent and still tavern. Mythical stories for the Old Kings of the Lost Realms whispered into the darkness while Eilin was drawing one of those epic Kings by the flickering flame of a weak candle light.

So when they entered the royal chamber she felt her breath catching and her heart constricting as the King she saw pale and sweating on the bed was nothing like she had imagined. He looked defeated from time and hardships. He didn't resemble the King whose bravery, proud stature and authority the bard songs were praising all the time. His handsome face, the trademark of the Longbeards was still carefully hidden under all those bruises, crusty wounds and wild hair. Still though it was nothing like the face she had imagined for him. Nothing on him, was even close to her drawings and that seriously unnerved her from the first moment she laid eyes on him. His resemblance to his sister was so uncanny that Eilin kept going back and forth trying to compare were these siblings conjoined and were they differed. She was certain that if this renowned Dwarf Lord opened his eyes their colour was going to be exactly like the Princess' and that, for some unknown reason, threw Eilin completely off balance.