Where she is right - The story of Dís, daughter of kings.

37

Twenty-four years later, it was the year 2988 of the Third Age, Thorin Oakenshield died peacefully amidst friends and family.

A severe inflammation of the lung had taken the last strength of his already weakened heart. Alwa and Fredrin were with him, as was Tul with her husband Arvid and her two-week-old daughter Thurid. And his sister Dís. Also all the companions. Even Bilbo, whom Alwa had invited under a pretext many months ago and who was staying as the king's guest presently.

Two days ago Dwalin had finally arrived, too.

He had led an unsteady life since Dwin's death. During the summer months he usually roamed the wilderness of Middle Earth's mountains and the winters he sought work as a mercenary or visited Bilbo in the Shire. Shortly before the annual birthday of his children, he usually spent a few days in the Erebor, sat at Dwin's coffin and met with Balin and Thorin. In the first years he had then met with Kái and Ema in the Iron Mountains or in the Ered Mithrin to spend their birthday together. And later in Erebor. For Kái returned after his apprenticeship and a couple of years later Ema came back, too. But Dwalin never remained longer than a week at the most and he had never stayed overnight at his former home.

This year he had been on his way to Rohan in autumn when he dreamt three nights in a row of Alwa, who asked him to return to Erebor. For two days he had ignored her message, but in the third night Alwa had been so very commanding in his dream, that he packed his things together the next morning and rode north again, although reluctantly. Thus he arrived just in time to bid his king farewell.

Thorin had talked to everyone during the last days and so everything was said. And that was good for today his strength was barely sufficient for a last touch of the forehead. The old king embraced his sister and his children and kissed his little granddaughter with a smile. Then he lay back calmly in Alwa's arms and, with a glance in her eyes, went over to the other side.

Tul fell crying in the arms of her husband and Dís stood there with her tears running down her cheeks. After having buried her husband Bard eleven years ago, the loss of her beloved brother hurt her deeply. She kneaded her handkerchief and looked completely lost. Fredrin stepped up to her and put his arm around her. Thankfully Dís

accepted his comforting embrace.

Alwa did not cry. She had seen it coming for a long time and now she was holding the dead in her arms, slightly rocking back and forth.

The companions were about to leave the room quietly as Alwa's calm voice was heard:

"Dwalin. Come here to me."

The old warrior threw a surprised glance at his brother and went over to the queen. He bowed and for a moment the two just looked at each other.

"You will stay now and serve your prince, who will soon be your king", she commanded.

Fredrin wanted to intervene but Alwa raised her hand and stopped him.

"I am the queen and he will do as I say", she said firmly.

"Yes, my queen. I will be there for him with all my strength. I swear", Dwalin grumbled.

"Then all is well", Alwa replied simply, dropping her head on Thorin's chest.

So Dwalin returned to the Erebor and moved back in with his brother. Over the past years Kái, Ema and Balin had renovated and newly furnished great parts of their home and only bath and chambers of Dwin and Dwalin had remained untouched.

So when Dwalin stepped into their bedroom that night after dinner with his children, Bilbo and Balin, he closed the door behind him, dropped his saddlebags to the ground and looked around.