Chapter Text
Ori walked quickly through the streets, struggling against the current of foot traffic. As most people returned home from the marketplace and the mines, Ori made his way towards the side of the mountain with purpose. At the edge of the market was the guardhouse, and attached to the guardhouse was the jail. Ori had heard from Olaf that Nori had been caught stealing again. Olaf, who was the son of Ori’s former scribe master, was always keeping Ori up to date on town gossip even though Ori’s apprenticeship had ended well over two years ago. At times Ori found it to be grating, but as he hurried to pay his brother’s bail, he felt very grateful to the lad who couldn’t keep to his own business.
The young scribe had stopped his work immediately upon hearing the news. He gave Olaf a copper bit for his troubles, then ran off to find Dori. His eldest brother had just sighed and opened the chest containing their meagre savings. Once again the money Ori had hoped to put towards new clothes was instead going to pay Nori’s bail.
Feeling guilty, Ori banished any selfish thoughts from his mind . If I’d not been born, Da wouldn’t have left. Nori just lacked a good role model, that’s all. Dori was too young to be as strong for Nori as he’s been for me , Ori thought as he weaved through the crowd. Dori would never say as much, of course. He’d only ever comment on Nori’s moral failings as Nori’s own problem. The one time Ori brought up his own role in his father’s disappearance Dori had gone pale and cold; Ori never spoke of it again, but he thought of it the last eight times he’d gone to the guardhouse to pay Nori’s bail. At first only Dori went to retrieve Nori, then Ori came along as well, then Ori started going alone. Dori had stricter hours to keep at work, so Ori was the only one available to fetch his brother at odd hours.
The main square was missing the bustle of mid day and early evening. The tail-end of the business day was coming to a close; apprentices were sweeping out front of their masters’ stalls, shutters were being locked and tables put away. The guardhouse was on the other side of the market square. It was an imposing building, large grey stones filed flat to make climbing up or down the walls difficult. The iron bars that covered the windows were as strong as any dwarf could make them. The city guardsmen loitered outside, smoking and twirling their axes and clubs.
The small jailhouse adjacent to the guardhouse was built in much the same manner as the main building, though it had fewer windows. It was longer than the guardhouse, and attached by a narrow windowless hallway. Ori had walked through that narrow hall many times before to see his brother lying in a cell, waiting for the bail payment to prevent him from staying at the larger prison outside of town. There was one memorable time when his brother was strung up on the wall. That time he’d picked the pocket of the guild-master of the diamond cutters. Ori had to forfeit the earnings of two illustrated manuscripts, earnings which he’d hoped to use to pay for a three year lease on a small house in a quieter area of town. But Nori’s life was worth more than a house, and Ori knew his elder brother would wither away to nothing behind bars if left for too long.
The guards outside leered as Ori walked past. They were all lower ranking guards, and probably the less skilled ones at that. The night shift was always run by the drunks and slackers. They weren’t the ones who needed to put on a good face for the merchants. Ori allowed himself to feel annoyed at Nori for not having the good grace to get arrested during the day shift. While still rough, they at least had manners. Ori hoped that he’d get to deal with a lieutenant or sergeant rather than a foot soldier.
The higher ranking guards were usually brought in from members of the nobility and had the attitude to match. They at least pretended to have respect for Ori and his coin. A few years back there was a sergeant assigned to this division who was a cousin through Ori’s mother. He’d brought Nori home the first few times Nori had been caught, and pretended he’d never seen the youth. The guard would make his excuses, that Nori seemed too young to understand his actions, and Dori would pretend the sergeant wasn’t acting out of pity for their mother’s disgrace. It had been a sad day when that guard had been transferred to another division.
Ori twisted as he entered through the main doors, avoiding the hands reaching out to touch him. He knew very well what his youth meant to men like these. Nori and Dori were always warning him about dwarrows who viewed those without a physical profession as defenseless.
Once inside Ori looked around for someone who looked like they were in charge. The walls were lit with torches which gave off a stinging smoke. Ori wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the desks in the main hall. Some men quietly filled out paperwork as others slept unashamedly at their desks.
“There’s no way around it. He’ll have to go before a judge tomorrow. Thirteen strikes is the unlucky number for the fool who can’t learn,” A deep voice said from down the hall. Ori walked towards the voice unobstructed. The guards who were awake recognized him from previous visits.
“It’ll be a hassle to drag him to the courthouse, then the guard’s surgeon. He’s bound to fight the whole way,” another voice said.
“It’s best to get it over with. Having the dwarrow wait days knowing what waits for him is cruel,” the deep voice replied. Dwalin , Ori thought to himself, recognizing the voice. He was the captain of the whole city guard. He was a fine specimen of dwarfish nobility; he was the younger son of the main branch of the Longbeard clan.
Ori’d caught himself staring at the man once or twice when he came to collect Nori. He was attractive, well muscled, tall, with a long beard. The top of his head was shaved to show off his very impressive tattoos. He was as cold and hard as the stone dwarves surrounded themselves in. For all he had a reputation for being strict with the law, twice now he had stopped by Ori’s home, when Dori was working the late shift, to let Ori know he’d best go get Nori before Nori got himself into trouble.
Ori thought back to the last time Dwalin had stopped by, and Ori’s hands were still stained with ink from a project he’d brought home to work with. Dwalin had stared at his hand when he’d opened the door, and had come alone to bring his warning about the raid on the gambling den due to take place that night. Ori remembered intense gratitude and embarrassment that a dwarf such as Dwalin felt such pity for his family to give warning to them.
That had been after Ori had already been by a few times to collect Nori from the small jailhouse attached to the guardhouse.
He did stare so when I first paid Nori’s bail during one of his shifts. I suppose he wanted to figure out what illegal activities I’d been up to that I could pay such a high bail , Ori thought to himself as he walked slowly down the corridor between the guardhouse and the jail.
The captain also made a rather amusing face when I told him how I’d earned it . Ori stopped that train of thought when he could make out Nori’s figure bound on the floor in front of him. Nori was kneeling and hunched over to hide his face, hands chained to the ground. His hair, however, made identifying him quite easy even in the dimly lit and smoky prison.
Dwalin looked up at Ori and asked roughly “What are you doing here?”
“I - well - I’ve come to pay Nori’s bail. How much is it this time ‘round?” Ori said. He kept his head down out of respect for Dwalin’s status.
“Your brother is to pay with his left hand, not coin, this time,” The second guard said with a sneer.
“His - his hand!” Ori cried out, looking at his older brother.
“Aye,” Dwalin said, sounding almost apologetic. He looked at the wall behind Ori’s shoulder as he continued, “And the guards up front should have stopped you from coming back here, since any bail money you’ve brought means nothing tonight.”
With only one hand there is no hope of Nori entering a civil trade, Ori knew well. And what price would he pay if he continued getting caught? Ori wondered.
Ori felt like his stomach began to press its contents up the base of his throat. He swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth, and took a deep breath to steady himself.
Nori shrunk up into himself after the other guard spoke. In a quiet voice, almost too quiet to hear, Nori said, “You’d best leave Ori. I’ll make my way home once it’s done.”
“I - can’t just leave you!” Ori replied, wiping his shaking hands against his cardigan. Dwalin followed the movement of Ori’s hands with his eyes, then looked up at Ori’s face.
“You can and you will,” Nori said with a grimace. I suppose he thinks he is smiling as he does when he lies about where the money for dinner came from, Ori thought sadly.
Ori looked at his brother for a long moment as the night guard spat on the ground, and left the room, leaving him alone with Dwalin and Nori. He stood still as the rock Mahal carved the dwarrows from, and Dwalin walked across the room to open a cell. While he stood there he could feel Dwalin staring at him from across the room.
The nobility are made of flesh and blood just as any dwarrow is, Ori thought, remembering the time he’d been offered a pass on paying bail in exchange for a night at a shady inn from a different member of the night guard. Dwalin is handsome, he thought, bile rising in his throat, and he’s never shown himself to be cruel. Ignoring anyone who would play the role of audience to his offer, Ori reached out for Dwalin’s arm.
“Please captain. I don’t have a lot of family and I can’t - I can’t stand Nori suffering. Surely there might be some way to have Nori pardoned, whatever he took returned and his slate wiped clean.”
It was the first time in his life Ori had hoped someone would act immorally, that someone could fail his expectations. A night with Dwalin, well, whatever was done would fade with time.
Waiting till he found a paramour who suited me, and pleased Dori was a dream, he thought as Dwalin looked at where Ori’s hand was touching his arm.
Dwalin looked around for a moment, and when the guard at the door didn’t turn to look at them, he looked back at Ori. “I can arrange for my testimony to be a conflict of interest, though I’d need you to help that become a truth I can swear in front of a judge” Dwalin said quietly, “I was the one who caught him.”
It was a painful relief to know that Dwalin could have the moral failings of any other dwarf. Ori nodded and said, “I understand, truly I do. I’ll do whatever it takes to see Nori safe,” he said, looking up at Dwalin. The guard at the door turned, and whistled loudly. From the corner of his eye, he could see a nasty grin spread across the dwarrow’s face and he felt his ears begin to burn.
Nori, from his place on the floor struggled, trying to rise. The chains holding him down kept him no higher than his knees.”
“Ori, you can’t - stop whatever idea you’ve got going on. You’re not so clever you can fix this for me. This is my mess and I’ll pay for it with my own blood, not yours.”
“ You’ll have to tell Dori I won’t be home for a while,” Ori said in a flat voice. Dwalin loosened the chains holding Nori down, and grabbed Nori beneath both armpits and marched him into the cell, locking it behind him. Nori pressed himself to the cell door, eyes bloodshot, “Dwalin, don’t you dare.”
Dwalin held both hands in front of him, palms wide and said, “I won’t hurt your brother, nor do anything more than what he’s asked.”
Nori began to yell, and stopped when Ori approached the cell.
“You once told Dori - I’m an adult, whether you like that or not. You got to choose what messed you’d make. You have to let me make my own messes.”
Ori kept both his hands in his pockets to hide the way they shook as Nori slumped to the ground in his cell.
Dwalin stood silently during the brothers’ exchange, then placed one hand gently on Ori’s wrist. His hand touched the top of Ori’s wrist, at no point taking his arm fully in hand as he led Ori back to the guardhouse. He guided Ori to the stairs and said “Second door on the left is my office. I know you know your letters so you can read which room it is,” then pressed a key into Ori’s hand.
Ori made his way into the office and stood by the desk. There was a roaring fire in a fireplace along the back of the wall. The heat it gave off did little for the shivers that ran up Ori’s spine. After a few minutes Dwalin came up the stairs with a sheaf of papers in his hands.
Dwalin came in after a long wait, and nodded at Ori. He approached, then instead of reaching for Ori sat down at his desk and pulled out some sheafs of parchment. Slowly and deliberately, Dwalin began to write. Ori averted his eyes, unsure of what to do with himself.
Dwalin’s quill had a metal writing nib, and it scratched lightly as it made its way across the paper. Ori looked over briefly at Dwalin, and saw him silently speaking a word here and there to himself as he wrote. Ori turned to stare at the fire, and focused hard on the flames and the crackle of the wood. He was so entranced that he did not hear when the writing stopped. The sound of a chair being pushed back startled him back into an awareness of his surroundings.
Dwalin walked around the desk, and handed a few papers to him. Ori read through them quickly - the first was one to recuse himself from any further dealings with Nori, including the upcoming case. The second was to an advocate, asking them to take on acquiring pardon’s for Nori’s earlier less serious thefts. The third, and final paper, was to a judge, asking for a private audience with the advocate and Dwalin on a matter regarding a family friend who has lost his way.
Mahal, that’s more than I thought was being bargained for, Ori thought, unsure of how to act. He reread the papers, looking to see if there was some trick hidden in them. All he saw was plain language and a plan to keep Nori further from the punishment that the law had in store for him.
Dwalin reached out towards Ori, and Ori closed his eyes. Instead of Dwalin’s large hand reaching for his body or tugging at his clothes, it went straight for his hair. Is he - is he braiding my hair? Ori questioned, opening his eyes. Dwalin’s face was closer than he’d expected. The guard wore a worried expression as he wove Ori’s hair into a complicated braid. It culminated in him ending the braid with a mithril bead. A marriage bead, Ori noted as he became faint. Blood rushed to his head and the nausea from earlier returned full force.
Ori had to focus on what Dwalin was saying to hear over the sound of his own heartbeat and the ringing in his ears. Dwalin spoke some words in Khuzdul that Ori never thought he’d have spoken to him by someone of Dwalin’s standing. The captain held out another mithril bead to him and Ori performed the appropriate response, something he’d practiced with Dori. His brother had drilled them into his head in some vain hope that Ori’s profession might redeem him to society the way Dori’s almost had.
Ori looked at the braid he’d formed in Dwalin’s hair, not entirely in control of his body as he stuttered out the acceptance speech in Khuzdul. Dwalin smiled unexpectedly. Ori tried to return the gesture, though he knew any smile he gave would betray the shock he felt. Dwalin looked at him for a moment more, then gestured his head towards the door.
“C’mon,” was all he said. Ori followed with quick small steps. Dwalin kept one hand gently touching around Ori’s wrist as they walked through the streets of Dale. They walked the wrong way from Ori’s house, towards the imposing gates of Erebor. Of course he lives in the mountain, nobles never live above ground , Ori thought to himself.
Ori had only been inside the mountain a few times to deliver manuscripts to wealthy families, or on one momentous occasion, the great library. Ori allowed himself to be led by Dwalin as he took in the sights of the mountain. Like any other dwarf a feeling of rightness settled into his bones when he entered the mountain. Rock above and below was something all dwarves could feel with their entire body.
The feeling Ori got retrieving root vegetables from their small basement couldn't compare to the increasing rightness he felt as he walked deeper into the mountain. He read the signs declaring where the various paths lead as Dwalin led him down a large hall. Some signs displayed street names, indicating the roads lead to the neighbourhoods of guildsmen, higher ranking miners and lower nobles. Others showed the paths lead to specific mine shafts, or to the ramparts where guards kept watch.
Eventually they came to a path that clearly indicated it was the street of kings, the living quarters of the royal family and the nobles of highest distinction. There were guards standing at the crossroads, wearing better armour than any city guard would. Dwalin began to guide him down that street and Ori felt his feet turn to lead.
He stopped in his tracks, staring at the street sign. The hysteria that had begun to fade when Dwalin braided the bead into his hair rose to a new level.
“You alright?” Dwalin asked, looking him up and down.
“I - I can’t be here. It wouldn’t be - right - well - it’s not proper, is it? Not with my mum being - ah,” Ori tried to explain what Dwalin had clearly either forgotten, or never known
“You’re with me,” Dwalin said, “They won’t say anything to your face or mine”.
Ori looked down at his unmoving feet and didn’t reply.
“Besides, if they’ve got too high a rank for me to scare some sense into them, I can always have Thorin give thema talking to,” Dwalin said in a softer voice. He tugged Ori’s arm gently, and once again Ori followed Dwalin.
“Thorin? As in Thorin Oakenshield, heir to the throne?” Ori squeaked.
“Aye. Though really he’s king in all but name since Thror’s mind is passing on before his body. He’s a bit young, but Thrain, well,” Dwalin didn’t need to finish that sentence. The whole kingdom had heard of Thrain’s downfall. Thorin’s mother had been killed by a horde of Orcs that attacked her traveling party. She was returning from a visit with her family in the Iron Hills, and Thrain’s mind hadn’t survived hearing the news. They’d found pieces of the Orc’s bodies for weeks before finding what remained of Thrain’s body.
“Why would Thorin tell someone off for speaking what everyone knows is true about me and my -”
“Because a word against you is a word against me, and I’ve been friends with Thorin since he began to learn the sword. I teach his nephews the craft of warfare. His family is my family. You certainly know how families protect their own”
“Not those who bring ‘em shame,” Ori retorted. Dwalin looked at Ori in surprise and didn’t reply for a while. They passed some rather grand doors made of stone gilded with silver and gold. Sapphires and rubies spelled out the names of the inhabitants.
“Only broken families kick those who’re down. And I’ve seen you bring Nori home often enough from jail, pubs or the gutter to know you don’t much care what kind of shame he brings,” Dwalin replied with a sour look, and Ori decided it was for the best to stop talking.
Eventually they came to a door that proclaimed the Sons of Fundin lived within. Dwalin unlocked the left door with an ornate key he pulled from his pocket, and pushed it open. He let go of Ori’s arm and gently pushed him inside. Dwalin kept his hand on the small of Ori’s back as they walked past a main living area, then past the kitchen, to a hall of doors.
“We don’t keep regular servants. I’ve never had the patience for all that bowing and scraping, and Balin’s often away on diplomatic business. He has someone come in to clean and cook when he’s home, when he’s gone for a long stay they only come by for the cleaning.” Dwalin explained as he looked at the line of doors thoughtfully.
“I usually take dinner at a pub, or with Thorin’s family. If you care to cook you’re welcome to it,” he said with a nod. Dwalin seemed to have come to a decision because he began to guide Ori down the hall.
“I’m half good at cooking,” Ori said in a small voice. The more Dwalin spoke, the more the confused Ori felt. One door was open at the end of the hall. The floor was a mess of clothes. The walls, however, neatly hosted a slew of weapons and armour. Dwalin’s room, Ori thought, bracing himself for what would be the first of many with the older dwarf. To his surprise he wasn’t guided into that room. Instead the door to the room across the hall was pushed open and Ori was led inside.
The bed was neatly made, and was larger than the one Ori had at home. A wooden desk was placed under a large window on the opposite wall. There were lamps along the walls.
“The bed shouldn’t be dusty. Dis stayed over after a fight with her former mother-in-law two weeks ago. I can’t say as much for the shelves and desk though. But that’s work for the morning,” Ori moved to the bed and sat down on it, looking up at Dwalin. Ori took off his mittens and placed them on the bedside table, then fidgeted with the hem of his cardigan. Dwalin reached out and touched Ori’s newest braid.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” Dwalin said awkwardly as he lit a lamp. He looked at Ori, and something that looked a lot like worry passed across his face. Dwalin turned, and left the room, closing the door behind him. After a long time sitting in silence Ori pulled himself all the way into the bed. He brought the covers up over his head just as he’d done when nightmares wouldn’t leave as a child.
What just happened? Ori asked himself. He couldn’t find an answer that made any sense. The only answer he had made no sense. Ori began to wonder about his brothers, about what he was supposed to do tomorrow, how long would Dwalin leave him to his own bed. Thoughts ran through Ori’s mind at an increasingly frantic rate. Eventually they overwhelmed him and to feel tears sting in the corners of his eyes. Ori shoved his fist into his mouth to keep the noise down, a trick he’d learned when he’d realized how upset Dori was to see him cry. He closed his eyes, and curled into himself tighter, breathing shaky breaths until sleep came.