loves, I am working as fast as my stubby lil fingers will allow me to get this next chapter happening. It’s at 3.5K now, and I hope to have the bare bones of it sorted by this afternoon.
I know it might be a bit… uh, famine-then-feast, but I really want to show my appreciation to everyone for their kindness, non-pressuring understanding, and patience during a rough time.
So, anyways. Have a snippet of the draft of 48!
(*gif is totally unrelated to the chapter – I’ve been watching #GBBO lately and saw this and thought it was hilarious SORRY my sense of humour is borked as per usual)
…
“Show me,” were Dís’
first words after Frerin had finished his halting description of the pool of Gimlîn-zâram
and its purpose. Frerin flinched, sinking deeper into his chair by Thráin’s
hearth.
Dáin pursed his
lips. His current pig oinked disapprovingly from its place by his feet (Thorin
had long since stopped trying to tell them apart). “Warning you now: The first
time is a shocker,” he said.
“You went in too
soon,” Thorin said to him. Dáin shrugged.
“Probably, but
there’s no good time to see what you left behind you. It would have hurt either
way.”
“My whole life has
been a litany of ‘too soon’,” Dís said, her eyes hard as she raised them to her
family. “I am not afraid of loss. Show me.”
Frerin winced, but
took her hand anyway. “Seems to be my usual job,” he said apologetically.
“I’ll come get you
in a couple of hours,” Frís offered, and Dís nodded absently. She towered over
her brother as she followed him from the room. Víli’s worried gaze followed
her.
“You all right?”
Thorin murmured to him, and he glanced back, startled.
“I’m…” he began,
but broke off with a conflicted look and a huff.
“Aye,” said Thráin,
as though he knew exactly what Víli was trying to say. “She’ll be back in a few
hours, lad. She won’t disappear in a puff of smoke the moment you turn your
back!”
“I know,” Víli
said, and his head bent, ever so slightly.
“Dad,” Fíli said,
softly. Víli nodded, wordless, before he reached out with both hands and gave
both Thorin and Fíli a rough, affectionate pat on the arm.
“I’m all right.
It’s just – well,” he said, and then he stood. His smile was wry. “I don’t need
to say it, do I? I’m off to see Lóni and Frár, I guess. I want to see if Frár’s
working on anything new. Busy hands and busy mind and all that.”
“Good idea,” Thráin
said.
“I’ll go with you,”
said Fíli, still looking a little worried. “Uncle?”
Thorin shook his
head. “I want to stop in on Gimli. I won’t disturb your mother and little
uncle. I haven’t heard any report on the journey since the departure, and that
was some weeks ago.”
“They’re well into
Mirkwood by now then,” said Thráin.
“Greenwood,” said Kíli, looking faintly
injured.
“I’ll go pop in on
my lad, and then I’ll stop in on that trio of idiots going East,” said Dáin,
giving his pig a scratch beneath its bristly chin. It gave him a limpid-eyed
look of bliss.
“You just want to
coo at the babies again,” accused Víli. “Not foolin’ anyone.”
Dáin shrugged
again, grinning freely. “Who can blame me?”
“Nobody,” Thráin
laughed, and pushed Dáin’s shoulder a little. “Nobody at all. Get on with you,
then. Stop hogging all the heat from my fire.”
“Want company?”
Kíli offered as Thorin stood and stretched a little.
“It will likely be
very dull,” he warned Kíli, but he nevertheless fell into step at his side as
they left Thráin’s rooms. Custard was stretched out before the hearth, boneless
and loose with her tongue slightly protruding. She didn’t even stir at the
sound of so many booted feet passing at once.
“I can do dull,”
Kíli said, affronted. Thorin sent him a sidelong look as they began the walk, and
the lad gave an offended little grunt. “I can!”
“If you wish to
come along, then I’m glad to have you. My usual companion is busy,” Thorin
said, and didn’t allow a hint of a smile to cross his lips. “Your little uncle
is doing a far more important task right now.”
“And I’m not going
to get underfoot either, no matter how much I want to,” Kíli said, and his jaw
firmed. “He and Mum are fine. So let’s go see Gimmers and tease him a bit.”
“Unkind, nidoyel.”
“Pfft, he’s a grown
lad now, he can take it,” Kíli dismissed.
“He’s one hundred
and forty, nearly twice your age,” Thorin said, amused.
“My age when I died,” protested Kili. “I’m still
older than him!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Thorin said, and the shining
door of the Chamber of Sansukhûl rose before them as they turned the corner. Dís,
Frerin and Frís were already crowded around the far end, their eyes glowing in
the radiance of the pool.
“Well, don’t you
still consider yourself older than Dáin and Mum?” Kíli challenged, and Thorin
paused in the act of taking his bench.
“Right. Fair point. Let’s not speak of it again,” he said, and threw himself into
Middle-Earth as quickly as he was able.
…
TBC…
Aw Yiss 