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Dwalin was a dwarf on a mission.
He didn't necessarily like the thief, but grudging respect had grown during the journey to Erebor, not to mention the battle and everything that happened after. He did, however, love his nan'ith, and if that meant grudgingly accepting the thief turned Spymaster as family, that's what Dwalin would do. If he could find his nan'ith, of course. She had up and run away twelve weeks ago, and while he had been looking he had also been relying on word of mouth.
A runaway hobbit among dwarrow – or humans – was bound to be noticed sooner or later. He didn’t think she would have run far – she probably wasn’t in the mountain, because she was many things but certainly not a liar – but the rebuilt Dale? Or even Esgaroth, now that the remaining signs of the ravaging dragon fire had been eradicated?
Belba didn’t like the water, Dwalin knew that much, but that was just another sign pointing in the direction of her having holed up in Esgaroth.
His waiting paid off in the end, stray whispers of a tiny woman making gardens on rooftops in Dale reaching him. It could of course be a human woman with the greenest of thumbs, but if Dwalin knew his nan’ith like he thought he did, it would be Belba. He’d probably been wrong about Esgaroth then, but the gardening possibility of Dale in spring would be a bigger draw than hiding.
Dwalin knocked on Balin’s door, poking his head in when called to enter. He was once again struck by how tired his older brother looked, seeming to have aged a century in the weeks since Belba disappeared.
“I think I’ve found her,” Dwalin said lowly, not bothering to enter the office properly. Balin’s head shot up from where it was bent over the heavy desk, and even though the happiness was tentative, he lit up, immediately looking years younger.
“Where?” Balin asked, half rising from his chair.
“I don’t know if it’s her yet,” Dwalin cautioned, not wanting to get Balin’s hopes up too much before anything was certain. “But there is a small woman making rooftop gardens in Dale.”
“Oh…” Balin sounded almost like it was punched out of him, relief colouring his entire posture as he sat down again. “It must be her.”
“I thought so too,” Dwalin nodded. “I’ll be going – don’t tell anyone where I’m off to, I think it’s for the best, just… just in case.”
Balin waved him off, and before Dwalin shut the door behind him he saw his brother lean back in his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face and through his beard. He looked tired, but the smile spreading across his face gave Dwalin joy.
Dwalin did not hurry on his way to Dale, even if all he wanted was to break into a full-pelt run. He wanted to think he knew it was Belba, but there was still the niggling idea that it might not be.
He was very carefully not skulking around when he entered Dale, but he did keep to the side of the roads, trying to stay as inconspicuous as he could. It was much easier than it had been, considering how many dwarrow had moved to Erebor and yes, even Dale, since the dragon was slain.
The quarter where he assumed Belba was, the quarter of the city where the rooftop gardens were springing up much like mushrooms, had become known as the Green Quarter. Once he arrived, he could see why; the only way he could describe it was leafy, and for the life of him he could not understand how in Mahal’s name it could become so green so fast.
In the square, in the middle of the Green Quarter, there was a copse of trees that Dwalin felt reasonably certain shouldn’t be there, but in the shade granted by them, in a chair that looked like it had been grown rather than built, there was Belba. Seeing her was like entering the mountain again, a sense of immediate relief and as if a great weight had lifted off his shoulders.
He walked up to her, not bothering to be very inconspicuous, but it still took several long moments before she acknowledged him, and even then it was barely – she gave a questioning hum, not even looking up from the plant she was pruning.
“I wouldn’t call this running far away, nan’ith,” Dwalin said, voice as gentle as it ever could be. At his words, Belba froze, hands stopping their work and lowering to wrap her arms around her body. He crouched down next to her chair, reaching one hand out to her – leaving the choice up to her if she would reach back or not. She curled even further into herself, before seeming to think better of it, one hand tentatively grasping Dwalin’s outstretched one.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave you so far behind, nadad. If I stayed in Dale, I thought maybe – none in the company ever venture far from the Mountain, but words reach much further… I thought you wouldn’t find me, but I could keep tabs on you anyway.” She still sat curled up in her chair, seeming to shrink further into herself for every word she spoke. Dwalin, in return, only grasped her hand and held on.
“Why, nan’ith? Why did you leave?” he asked, once it seemed like she was out of words. He tried to not sound as heartbroken as he was, but going by how she winced when he spoke it wasn’t successful. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a haunted look stealing across her face before she uncurled, straightening her posture as much as she could while sitting down.
It was enough to make it very obvious why she had felt the need to leave the mountain, and definitely enough to make Dwalin lose both his balance and composure.
“Did someone force you?” Dwalin forced himself to sound as calm as he possibly could while feeling like someone could – and had – knocked him over with a feather. He did know, however, that if someone had hurt his nan’ith they would not live to see the next morning.
“Of course not!” she scoffed at him, something that settled his nerves better than anything else would have. She rubbed a hand fondly across her very obviously pregnant stomach, smiling first down at it and then at him. “I don’t regret this child for a moment, nadad, but – yes, it is the reason I didn’t feel comfortable staying in the mountain.”
“No one would judge you – this is a blessing! A child in the company can be nothing but Mahal smiling down on us!” Dwalin tried to tell her, attempting to be as convincing as he possibly could while not crossing into ‘pushy’ territory. He knew his nan’ith – if she thought he was pushing, she’d push back harder and in the opposite direction.
“Oh, the cultural differences…” Belba smiled shakily at Dwalin, looking as happy as she looked upset. “Had I come back to the Shire in this condition, pregnant and unmarried? I likely would have been stoned, despite being one of the most respectable hobbits there.”
Dwalin felt himself start to shake in anger and had no choice but almost fly to his feet, turning on his heel to start pacing, anything to relieve the sheer rage he was feeling.
“Don’t leave!” Belba said, suddenly sounding more terrified than she had during their entire talk that far. It shook him to his core to see her crying, something he hadn’t seen her do since – not since Thorin was in the throes of gold sickness.
“I’m not leaving, nan’ith, I’m just enraged at the small-mindedness of hobbits…” He fell to his knees by her chair, and once again he reached out to grasp her hand. “We do not care if there is marriage, we do not care if it is only to beget an heir – we wish that it always be some kind of love fueling the act, but the Craft Married who take people to bed anyway, well…”
Belba snorted, one hand wiping inelegantly at her cheeks in a bid to remove the tear tracks.
“I love him, but – he doesn’t love me,” she said, slowly and almost silent, as if telling the greatest of secrets. She hesitated before she took a deep breath - when she let it out it was with the gravitas of someone letting the world off of their shoulders. “Hobbits have cariads, Heart’s Love – it’s much like your Ones, you see. I found my cariad and I was – over the moon, really. He is the father, of course – I may not be respectable, but even I know it’s only proper to go to bed with someone if you love them. I know it’s not the same here, but I am a hobbit, nadad.”
Dwalin was about to say something but stopped himself before he could do much more than draw breath – if she stopped talking now, he felt, she might never speak again. She shot him a look of gratitude, before she continued telling her story.
“I was going to tell him, of course – he deserved nothing less. Then… then I learnt about Ones. How dwarrow all have one person created to be their perfect match in every aspect… and how no dwarrow have ever matched outside their own race. Why would I be different? I couldn’t tell him then – he’s honourable, and would have decided to stay with me, despite it dooming him to an unhappy life.” Belba shrugged and looked away from Dwalin, the feelings still too raw to talk about them properly. “Then I found out I was pregnant, and I couldn’t stand to raise the faunt in the mountain without him, so I – well, let’s call it what it is, I ran away.”
“You did run away, but I – and everyone in the company, once they get things explained to them – won’t judge you for it. You’ve had a couple of very eventful years, nan’ith. Running away I think is the healthiest option.”
“Eventful, that’s the least to call it I think,” Belba laughed in response, the sound slightly tearstained but nevertheless happy.
“Now, I’m a dwarf and technically not allowed to reveal any Khazad secrets – but considering both Balin and I adopted you and you’re carrying a dwarven child, I think the King might make an exception.” Dwalin winked at Belba, pleased to hear her peals of laughter ring out, echoing amongst the houses.
“I happen to know the King, I think it’ll be fine,” Belba said, almost questioningly – when Dwalin only smiled reassuringly at her, she relaxed back into her chair.
“To dwarrow, it’s fairly obvious to see who’s found their One – I think most of the company knew before Nori realised it, but that was mainly because you’re a Hobbit, not a dwarf. Now, I don’t know who the father of your pebble is, but I’ll eat my beard if it isn’t Nori.” Dwalin knew he was being abrupt, but the fewer words he said, and the quicker he said them, the quicker he would get to go home, put a stop to the mountain-wide moping Belba’s leaving had caused, and hopefully cheer his wan nan’ith up again.
“Nori isn’t… Nori’s the father, of course, he’s my cariad, but… he doesn’t care for me, not for anything more than a quick tumble. He would have told me I was his One, otherwise.” She shook her head adamantly, unable to process what he was actually saying.
“I would kill him, if I didn’t know he was self-sacrificing like the idiot he is,” Dwalin muttered, pulling Belba to her feet as he rose to his. “Nori has barely eaten since you left, and Dori has resigned himself to forcefeeding him extra-sweetened tea to try and keep him alive. A dwarf can live for a long time without food without dying, but he becomes weak quick.”
And dwarrow who had been rejected by their Ones… they barely lived a month. That Nori had survived three was no mean feat.