Absolutely. She remembers warm impish smiles, golden hair, and a loud laugh. She remembers a brother who sat with her and cheered her when she was cross or upset. She remembers… not much more than that. She was only 39 when he died.
Gimli started something when he drew Dis out of her mourning. Every child of the extended Durin line (and quite a few who aren’t) now call her ‘Aunt Dis’, just as he does. Even the adults sometimes refer to her as ‘Aunt Dis’ now and then, as in “go and ask your Aunt Dis.”
Frerinith likes to play with her measuring-weights, and will sit for ages just placing them on and off the scales, watching them bob. He also calls her ‘Aundish’ – because he doesn’t quite have his tongue-placement right yet.
She does love being Aunt to all these healthy, merry children. It’s one of her few sources of true joy.
Still, it never fails to remind her that nobody will ever call her ‘amad’ again.
Thorin’s response to the naming of Dwalin’s last child was utter gratitude. He immediately dragged his brother close and held him as Frerin reeled with the knowledge that he was not forgotten.
(Then Thorin had to endure three straight days of Frerin crowing about it.)
Dis’ reactions to all three, though…
Dis’ reaction to Wee Thorin’s name was to stare at Dwalin as though skewering him through with daggers made entirely of her will. Then she said, “another one.”
Dwalin had the good grace to look sheepish.
When Balinith came along, Dis only clenched her jaw and sighed.
When Frerinith came along, and Dwalin told her the name Orla had chosen (hesitantly, his massive hands wringing the edge of his tunic), Dis had to stand and leave the room very quickly.
She’d nearly forgotten what it was to cry with happiness.
Thorin told his mother and father when he was very small, perhaps 15 or so. Thrain wept. It was adorable.
Frerin told his mother, after they had both died. Fris wept. It was awful.
Dis has only ever told her husband. She has never truly felt safe enough in her living memory – though not through any fault of her parents. She was only 10 years old when the dragon came and her mother died.
(For comparison’s sake, during the War of the Ring Gimizh is 25.)
(Thanks, Nonnie! She’s very proud of her new hardware!)
…
“Well, it’s not unheard of,” said Fris, examining the baby’s mouth with her finger. Little Dis scowled up at her, and gummed enthusiasically upon it in retaliation.
“I’m sure they’ll grow in their own good time,” Thrain said, and smoothed back the baby’s fine, downy-soft hair.
“Both the boys had their first teeth by ten months,” Fris fretted, and she wiped her finger absently upon her dress and bounced the little girl up and down with her other arm. Dis squealed, open-mouthed, and waved chubby fists in the air.
Thrain wasn’t sure what to say to that. Both the lads had been as textbook as they come, hitting each milestone as though ticking off a list. Thorin had been through the food-fussy stage right on cue, and Frerin had dropped his morning naps right on his first birthday.
Their little girl was proving to be made of a different metal altogether. She wasn’t interested in crawling at all, and preferred to pull herself up using her parents’ hands, the furniture, skirts, trousers, or whatever was closest. Then she would stumble around, holding tightly to whatever she’d found, until she sat down – bonk! onto her bottom.
Then she would holler.
“Well, she won’t grow teeth for our wishing it,” sighed Fris, and put Dis down upon her rug. The baby immediately scooted around on her bottom to face them and lifted her hands, an imperious expression on her tiny face.
Thrain half-smiled, half-sighed. “I’ve got it, dearest,” he said, and bent his (aching) back once more so that his daughter could move about the room on faltering feet.
…
“Ow!”
Fris was woken out of her sleep by a yelp from the childrens’ rooms, and she rubbed her bleary eyes as she sat up. “What in Mahal’s name,” she growled, under her breath.
Beside her, Thrain mumbled something that sounded very like, “lookitthedolly” and rolled over.
Fris resigned herself to being the one to get up this time, and put on her housecoat and slippers and padded down the corridor to where Dis’ door was slightly ajar.
Pushing it open, she found her middle child kneeling upon the floor, his hand cradled in his lap and tears in his eyes. In the crib, Dis was glaring, red-faced. She looked like she was getting up the energy for a really satisfying scream.
“Frerin, why are you in your sister’s room?” Fris asked, trying very hard to keep the weariness from her voice.
“I always come in,” Frerin sniffed, still rubbing at his hand. “She wakes up around now, I c’n hear her from next door. She likes it when I pat her hair. But she bit me this time!”
“Frerin, it is my job, mine and your father’s, to comfort your sister,” Fris said, kneeling down by him. “It’s your job to be her brother.”
Frerin pouted, big blue eyes watering. “But I c’d hear her!”
“Oh, my summer sunshine,” Fris said, running her hand over his sweet little face. He sniffled. “You’re a little boy, Frerin. I know you want to help her, but this isn’t the way. No wonder you’re so tired in the mornings. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Frerin looked away, and Fris stifled another sigh. Of course he would think of caring for his family before he thought of himself at all. “Show me your hand?”
He held out his hand, lower lip quivering. There was a bloody little indentation in the meat of the palm.
“Does that hurt?” Fris asked him, and he nodded vigorously.
“It’s all sharp! She’s never been sharp before!”
Fris blinked. “Sharp?”
In the crib, Dis finally opened her mouth and began to let out a truly victorious howl. In the centre of her lower gum was a tiny, barely-noticeable white line.
Drew the Lady Dis during math (because why do math when you can draw dwarves?). Sorry my camera isn’t good and my art is even worse. Inspired by determamfidd’s Dis from Sansûkh.
OH MY GOOOSGKJSFDKSJDGFSHJGDFSKG
look at her FACE. That face. *clutches heart* That icy sadness, that weary certainty of forthcoming loss. That is incredible. I ADORE THAT SWORD I WANT ITTT. And her dress! ljagfkajhdf GOOD GODDAMN SHE IS AMAZING. Her hair! Braids! YESSSS.
She’s fantastic! I love it, I love her, I love you!!!
If you feel like being heartbroken over that particular meeting, you should ABSOLUTELY read the wonderful Heartless, part of the Sansukh Appendices, by jeza-red!
Aw Yiss 