Chapter Text
Calculating eyes watched intently as the younger dwarf moved, the tall figure unseen as he gazed upon his beloved.
Ori... Somehow, the little dwarf had managed to catch his interest, throughout their time together as part of the company. The scribe's carefree nature had surely frustrated him at first, having wanted nothing more than to just beat some sense and toughness into that gentle soul.
However, after the Battle of the Five Armies, the young one had definitely proven his worth. He had even, albeit unknowingly, saved the life of the dwarf who lurked in the shadows, looking over Ori. Nowadays, the scholar seemed so delicate and fragile, as if one touch from his own war-hardened hands would break the little flower.
Dwalin sighed as he looked down at his hand. He was not one for frivolous gifts, in fact he hated such things. But for the dwarf in front of him, he was willing to attempt such customs.
He had spent the last moon's passing gathering information, consulting Nori and Dori about gifts that would be to their brother's liking, much to their amusement. They had agreed to allow the courting to take place, as guardians of Ori.
Grumbling, he twirled his handmade hairpins between his thick fingers. They were not delicate, or dainty as many maidens of Middle Earth would want, they were practical hairpins, fashioned by his own warriors hands.
Grumbling to himself in embarrassment, Dwalin knew he would not be able to gift these to Ori personally. So, he decided upon the next best solution, and threw them into the clearing where his intended sat, before fleeing from the scene with a decidedly flushed face.
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An unsuspecting Ori was humming happily to himself, sketching in his favourite book. Therefore, when several objects whizzed past his face at a dangerously close proximity he could only blink.
He gulped, looking at wall behind him. His eyes only grew wider as he noticed the miniature weapons embedded into the wall, a sense of dread filling him as he lifted them out.
Inspecting them, Ori noticed these minuscule blades were not like any weapon he had ever seen. They were too small to deliver a fatal attack,
Nevertheless, as he turned the tiny daggers over his heart dropped into his stomach, a cold chill coming over him despite the warm summer heat.
There, etched into these blades, his own name stared back at him...
He needed to tell someone, and quickly.
-----
As the alarm bells were raised, and the company was gathered within the throne room for an emergency council, Dwalin realised his gift may not have been well received. Ori was not wearing his hairpins, and in Dwarven culture had was a sure sign of rejection.
"I have gathered you here, brothers, as one of us is in danger." Thorin spoke out, scanning the room before his gaze landed upon the distraught Ori. "An attack has been made on Ori, this day."
That drew Dwalin's attention from Ori's supposed rejection. He had been attacked? No-one attacked his property.
Stepping forward, the bald dwarf growled. "I will watch him, king."
Thorin nodded at him, giving Ori instruction to stay by Dwalin's side and wait to see if this mysterious attacker struck again. After all, Dwalin was one of the greatest warriors in Erebor.
It was worth the bright smile he was granted by his little flower, and he grunted his approval. Somewhere across the room neither dwarf noticed Nori and Dori in hysterics.