.Author’s note: Before I start this chapter I want to clarify a few things about this particular work of mine. 1) This story takes place in the third age of middle earth. It starts about two years before the events surrounding the Battle of Five Armies and the finding of the one ring. A time when Elves and Dwarves (at least the better, friendlier members of these races) Tolerated and on occasion helped one another.
2)I want to empathizes that Arathorn, Aragorn’s father was most definitely not an elf and therefore it is perfectly plausible that he had a dwarf friend.
3) I am doing the best I can with the technicalities. I have two other stories and a novel I am currently writing and I am doing the best I can with all four. I think it is perfectly plausible that a widowed grief stricken dwarf would take in an orphaned elf child, besides, whatever else Tolkien wrote about dwarves, Borin is MY character. He is an eccentric dwarf in the first place, living alone in the woods with his wife instead of in a dwarf colony.
I hope I have clarified a few things, and I also hope I have not offended anyone, I simply felt the need to respond to criticism. Respectfully yours, Vanya-vasa
Fifteen year old Kis stood in the middle of her home and surveyed the mess with horror. The furniture was smashed and the floor was littered with four dead orcs.
“Father?” she called softly. No response. She stepped over the bodies looking for her father’s stocky form among the shambles. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she shook her head. She refused to believe he was dead. “Father!” she called louder. She heard a panting and a groan from the upper floor. Kis dashed to the stairs and ran up them three at a time.
She found him on the floor of his bed room with a last orc slumped dead across a chair. She ran to him and carefully gathered him up in her arms and with much groaning and grunting she lifted him to the bed. He had a nasty chest wound and a worse head wound. He opened his dark eyes and looked at her. A smile came over his rough weathered features. He said nothing but a look of deepest love and parental pride came into his dark brown eyes.
Kis knew that words were pointless. She knew also that there was nothing that could be done for her father. He had lost far too much blood and the wounds were beyond her skill to heal. She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers and knelt there looking straight into his eyes. He reached up with his free hand and tenderly caressed her face and Kis held his hand there and as she clasped it his eyes clouded over and his hand went limp under hers. Tears stung her eyes and she cast her hood over her face and let wave after wave of grief wash over her.
How long she knelt there was anyone’s guess. It may have been one hour or twelve, no one was counting. All she knew was that all at once her grief was replaced with cold rage and a deep desire to hunt and slay the orcs that had so cruelly murdered her father.
Kis stood up and composed her father’s body, closing his eyes and folding his hands over his breast. Then she stood up. First she had to bury her father. She went to his work shed and began to gather the materials for a coffin. Then she thought better of it. She remembered the Elf buried under the cairn in the pine wood. Surely he had been a great warrior if he had fought off a host of orcs with only her father’s aid. She could do Borin no greater honor than to lay him to rest beside the Elf had that sired her.
She went back into the house and went up to her father’s room it took quite an effort but she finally managed to get the dwarf down stairs. She then laid him on the couch and went outside to get a board large enough to hold her father. When she had found it she carried it into the house and set it beside the couch and carefully placed the Dwarf onto it.
Then with a knife from her belt she pierced two holes into the board and threaded them with a strong cord. Then she pulled the loop of cord over her head and rested it across her shoulders and collar bone and drew her father out of the door. It took her quite an effort to make it to the pine wood as she was only fifteen and not very big for her age. But she was fairly strong and in the end her lay beside the cairn of the unknown elf.
Kis laid a reverent hand on the cold stones and gazed at it for a long time. Deep within she knew she would never see it again. After a moment she shook herself and started to slowly and carefully bury her beloved father. Stone by stone she covered his familiar face with the cold stones.
Kis cast about the house wondering if there was anything she might have forgotten. It is said that Dwarves make light of burden and that was true of Kis as well. Her blood may have been Elven but she had been raised a Dwarf and all she took was a shirt of steel her father had given to her on her last birthday, a cloak, her father’s Ax, an extra set of clothes, a water skin, rations for the chase and an ornament that she had had all her life. When it had grown too small for a hair clip her father had taken the flower and made it into a necklace for her.
Kis took a deep breath, took one last look about her and strode out the door. She carefully locked the door behind her and left the remains of her home behind. There was nothing for her there anymore. The animals were gone, killed or driven off. Her father was dead and all that was left for her was to avenge him.