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Title: The Tomb of Every Hope
Fandom: The Hobbit
Rating: G (General)
Disclaimer: No money to see here.
Notes: Set after the book. Expect major spoilers for the ending. The title is taken from Robert Graves' adaptation of the Song of Amergin.

Summary: The dwarves were leaving.

The dwarves were leaving. Dís watched them depart daily, long caravans winding away from the Blue Mountains, away from the home they had all toiled so hard to build. They left now as if the long years had been only a dream. Erebor called to them and they returned.

Dís turned from the sight. Her eyes came to rest on the dwarf waiting behind her in the room, her companion through these long years. “You will leave me now, too?” she asked.

Lir bent her head. “We leave for Erebor tomorrow.” Her head rose and she met Dís’s eyes, straightforward and bold. “But we need not travel alone.”

Dís nodded, heart sore. She turned back towards the window, toward the wide world. Her fingers gripped hard around the head of the hammer slipped through her belt. She could picture it so easily, the low peaks of their home dwindling in the distance as she rode with Lir and Gloín and their son across the long miles to the Lonely Mountain, the grave of all her hope.

Dís closed her eyes to the vision. Some saw Erebor as the rebirth of the dwarves, but to her it would always be a tomb. It had felled Thror’s House and burned her childhood dreams to ash. Now in its furthest depths rested her only treasure, never to return. She would find no home there.

When she turned back Lir remained, waiting, shoulders stiff under the weight of farewell. She knew already what Dís’s answer would be. Lir grabbed her in a fierce hug, arms as tight as bands of dwarvish steel around her. Dís clung to her, allowing herself this moment, this comfort. There had been a time, long past, when Lir would have followed her to the ends of the earth. Lir had a son and a husband and a new future before her. It was better to let her go. She should not weep for those who still lived.

Lir released her and stepped back, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Farewell my lady, my friend.” She bowed low before her, respect and love and goodbye. She turned quietly and left the room.

The next day Dís did not stand before her window to watch her people trickle away. She bent low over her forge, hammer heavy in her hand, and mourned what would never be.

~~~
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