Title: Thoughts in the night chapter One
Author: Dís Thráinsdotter
Disclaimer: I don´t own Tolkien´s characters, I merely borrow them.
Summary: Glóin sits thinking about his life one night when he can't sleep. Post Hobbit but before LotR.
I can't sleep tonight. I ought to, I have some important things to do tomorrow and I need steady hands to be able to do them properly. But for some reason or other there simply isn't any sleep in me tonight. So I get up from bed after lying still to will myself to sleep, and go into the sitting room where I sit down on the couch before the fire. I fill my pipe and light it; it is Longbottom Leaf from the Shire. I buy three barrels of it every year from the Dwarves who travel between Erebor and the Blue Mountains, and it is true that it's the best pipe weed from the South farthing.
I sit and smoke in peace when I remember Bilbo Baggins. A laugh fills my heart when I think about the party in his hole, Bag End; he did look somewhat puzzled when he saw us on the doorstep. Gandalf had given us the advice to come to Bag End in groups so Balin and Dwalin had gone first followed by Fili and Kili. Then Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin and I had gone followed by Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Thórin Oakenshield and Gandalf. By the time they came Bilbo was so flustered he pulled the door open and they all fell inside. I couldn't help laughing when I saw Thórin flat on the mat with the others on top of him and the angered glances he gave me didn't make it easier to stop laughing. But I also understood him, Bombur who wasn't exactly slim even then and hasn't grown slimmer since must have winded him. Gandalf stood on the porch and laughed. The party was good though, even if it was given on short notice. We spoke about Dragons, Orcs and other such things; we sung a song about how Smaug had taken our home (not that I had ever seen it but mother and father always spoke about it) and how we were going to take it back.
And so my thoughts drift to the Dragon and how he came to Erebor. Mother and father used to speak about it when I grew up, how splendid our Halls had been before the Dragon came. Balin used to mention it from time to time; he had been outside the Mountain with Thórin, Frerin, Dis and the others when Smaug came which was most fortunate for all of them. "An adventurous Lad in those days, always out and about" Thórin said about himself and it was indeed fortunate that he had been safe that day. According to what mother said everything was turned upside down; they simply grabbed the tools, clothes and food they could in a hurry and went out through the escape exits while listening to the deafening roars of the Dragon. Many Dwarves were slain and eaten, and many Men as well. So the town of Dale was turned into ruins and our Mountain taken and we became homeless.
It must have been hard on Thrór, our Father, and Thráin even though they were able to rescue a good number of our Folk, teasing the Dragon and naming him "Lazy Lizard" and other such names. Balin told us that their beards had been singed when they came, a sign of how close to the Dragon they had been. Many were able to go to Iron Hills and our other dwellings, which was good for them and also proof of the wisdom in not putting all eggs in one basket. Thrór had to deal with haughty Men and Elves, and at about 230 it isn't easy to be wandering like we had to do.
I was seven the year that blasted Azog murdered our Father and I still remember the wailing and weeping of our people. The Dunlendings were furious, they offered to execute the Man whose comments had caused Thrór to go to Khazad-Dûm in the first place saying that he was the ultimate cause of the murder and had to be treated accordingly, but Thráin had declined the offer saying that it wouldn't make his father return to us and finally they fined the Man, he had to pay a ware gild for our father and he did. The Man was white and trembled when he looked at Thráin, he hadn't meant it to come to this and he was as angered as the others. Orcs in our ancient dwellings, how horrible. They had no right to be there and certainly no right to claim it as theirs.
Poor Nar, he shook with anger when he spoke about it, hadn't his hair and beard been white already they would have become and Thráin sat speechless for a week. But then he rose and said that it couldn't be born and sent messengers to all the places where our Folk lived, telling them what had happened and summoning the Host to Dunland. Father was one of them and his short stubble made him look strange. We had all torn our beards at the tidings and the Men who had beards had done so as well. But if they indeed grieved or if it was to show sympathy with us I am still not sure of. They did help us set up a camp for the Host, which was augmented by children of other Fathers who were filled with wrath when they heard the tidings. Father was so angry at the time and mother was no less angered, hadn't she had us to take care of she would have been one of the warriors. Instead she was one of those who repaired the mail the warriors wore.
Those were days filled with horror, particularly during the War, but still we were able to find time to play and train with our axes. Mother was always worried for father that he would be taken from us, but fortunately he wasn't even though a good many were. The battles were horrible. Not to mention meeting the Dwarves, Elves and Men rescued from the Orcdens. They looked terrible, worn and famished, and the Orcs had tormented a number of them. They didn't tell us younglings about what had happened to them, saying that they would reward our parents badly by giving us nightmares, but enough filtered through to give us nightmares in any case. Sometimes we were able to sneak in among the grownups and listen to their tales, they would speak of cutting people loose from instruments of torture, cutting chains from then that kept them hanging on walls and other such things. Also they sometimes spoke about what they did with the Orcs when they found them. They weren't given any mercy and they didn't deserve any.