Strings Attached

A small voice sounded.
Mahal, help me.
Mahal opened his eyes and was furious. His people, enslaved to a stranger?
In a wink of an eye, the offending author stood before him.
“How dare you force the world to do your bidding? Who are you?”
“I’m a fanfiction writer,” said the author. “And you should be thankful. Because of me, people read about dwarves! But I get it, you can’t understand. Have you ever written anything?”
Mahal decided he heard enough.
He clasped his hands…
The author disappeared...
Dís woke up from a nightmare, She was home. In Ered Luin.

No matter what Thorin said, Dís will go to Ravenhill and…
Wait a minute. Why should I go to Ravenhill? Why should I fight? I endanger everyone! They are trying to protect me, ignoring their own safety…
Dís will go to Ravenhill.
No, I will not. Why am I on this quest? How come you can command me?
Because I am an author. And I want you to go to Ravenhill.
I refuse. You have no power over me anymore.
So you want to run? To hide from your destiny?
I... Mahal help me, I shouldn’t be here!
We’ll see.

“We ride to Ravenhill! Bring the war goats! For everyone! Thirteen… no, make it twelve. Thirteen is an unlucky number. Dís, you stay here. I want you to be safe.”
Dís looked defiantly at her brother.
“But there is fourteen of us, so no nonsense about unlucky numbers. I am going with you. So let them bring fourteen goats!”
“Um,” said Dáin, “there might be a wee problem... we don’t have fourteen goats. Not even thirteen.”
“See?” said Thorin. “Mahal wants you to stay. And…”
“We only have four goats!”
Thorin sighed.
“Alright.”
He should have the upper hand anyway.

Tango sounds.
Thorin dances onto the stage, holding his grandfather’s cloak and crown in his arms. Continues dancing tango, pretending he is holding a maiden.
Dwalin comes.
Dwalin: “They are dying there!”
Thorin: “The gold is above the dwarves!”
Dwalin: “You are not your grandfather! Wake up!”
Thorin: “Leave, or I will kill you.”
Dwalin leaves.
Dís dances onto the stage.
Thorin: “Didn’t you want to go to bed?”
Dís: “Bed, bed I couldn't go to bed
My head's too light to try to set it down
Sleep, sleep I couldn't sleep tonight
Not for all the jewels in the crown…”
Thorin: “But there are no…”
Dís: “I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more
I could have spread my wings and done a thousand things
I've never done before…”
Thorin: “I can see it now! The gold is poisoned! It’s beauty... is a lie! Sister, you saved me! You showed me the truth! We will fight!”
Dís (suddenly normal): “Lets fight for our people!”
Huge fight. Fourteen dwarves come running in.
Legolas (merrily): “Caradhraaaas, Caradhraaas. Mountain that touches the sky that’s Caradhraaas, Caradhraaas.”
Gandalf (shouts): “Wrong movie!”
Light out.

It started slowly.
First… men and elves at the gate. Then Dáin came, ready to kick some... ready to kick some. But suddently…
The orcs.
Dís facepalmed.
And Dáin, all battle happy went for it. Alone, without support. Oh, he would show them for sure!
He couldn’t.
Because… all of those stupid elves and their stupid stunt. They apparently lost their bows somewhere, deciding to – for Mahal’s sake! – jump over the protective walls of the dwarves (that had wings completely open, but that’s cousin Dáin for you).
As Dís facepalmed again, the elves met the orcs.
The first deadly crop.

Maybe…
Maybe they will not fight, after all. There is just fourteen of them, surely Thorin can’t think they would stand a chance.
Dís didn’t want to fight. But at the same time she longed for fight, to defend what is theirs… hers. Erebor.
She gulped when she saw the armies that came to their defeat.
This would be madness…
“Will you have peace... or will you have war?”
“Brother…” she whispered.
It seemed.. there will be a peace. At last.
But then the raven came, with the first ray of sun.
“I will have war.”
Dain is here.
Darn.

Whatever the little thief says, he broke the contract!
Dís was fuming.
Thorin was fuming much more, of course. He was angry and he had every right to be angry.
It was clearly stated…
The Arkenstone had much bigger value than one fifteenth of the treasure!
It was all about the Arkenstone.
And the thief stole it.
There was nothing about the date of payment (why, all the business was far from concluded)! Nor anything about choosing the manner of payment.
Oh, the burglar got lucky.
He broke the contract…
And still, he was let go.
To live in shame.

I am, once again, looking upon the dwarven city.
The term “city” used loosely. Cave, more likely.
Rather spacious cave, I will give them that, but after all... just a cave.
Just imagine what must be going on in there (I have been there, in another life). The dwarves getting ready for battle. Trying on various armor, each heavier than the one before. Each more ornate than the one before.
I seem to recall an extensive armory in the city. Cave.
So the dwarves are eager to fight?
Fortunately, Aulë doesn’t let them come back from the Halls.
Lucky us.

There was a slight problem in Erebor.
Scratch it, there were lot of problems in Erebor. But one of them (a big one) was... food.
As food didn’t keep through all the years. They brought some, but not much.
Which meant rations.
Dís hated rations.
Then the Bard character came with some crazy offer. How could he?
(How come Thorin didn’t keep his word? Didn’t pay his debts?)
Bard went away... and returned. And he was not alone.
“Lets kill it and eat it,” said Dís. Yes, she was really hungry.
“The elf or the moose?”
“Is there a difference?”

Now, where was it?
Thorin needed it. They needed it. She needed it…
For her brother, of course. And Fíli… and Kíli. Her sons are so young, she can keep it for them. Until they are old enough.
No! What is she thinking! Arkenstone belongs to Thorin!
…
That’s stupid. Just because he is her older brother? She is a lady, she deserves better…
Wait a minute. Something strange is going on. What dark power is in play here?
…
Everybody searches for the Arkenstone.
They will bring it to them. To Thorin... and to her…
“Have you found anything yet, Bilbo?”