Section 3. Glóin
Pairings: Glóin/his future wife
Rating/Warnings: Minor angst
Word Count: 413
Disclaimer: If I owned the hobbit, it would be even sadder.
Summary: None of Thorin's companions will ever forget the day the dragon came.
2. Dori & Nori
Glóin met his wife by dragon fire. The dwarf was working in the forges when Erebor’s great bells began to ring, the notes sounding out a cadence that he never thought he’d hear. That signal wasn’t telling Glóin to come defend his city, it was telling him to run from a kingdom that was lost.
So the dwarf threw his gear together and sprinted up the stairs. He took the tunnel toward his home and ran straight into bedlam. There were dwarves running to and fro, some shouting about dragons, and Glóin was desperately grateful that his older brother was still off traveling. If there truly was a dragon, then the bells were right and Erebor was doomed; Thrór's guards were not prepared to fight off such a monster, though the dwarf dashed inside his house to grab his weapons anyway. He would need his axes no matter how this battle ended and perhaps his kin had been mistaken about the nature of the threat.
All told, Glóin spent maybe ten minutes in his house. He threw a travel pack together – gold, clothes, and smithing tools wrapped around some family heirlooms – and grabbed his axes from the wall. But when he walked outside again, he found the street aflame. It seemed the stones themselves were melted, cloth and torches burned to cinders and for a moment the dwarrow could only gape in shock.
Although the warrior had fought his share of battles, no enemy had ever reached behind the lines, and his heart ached to see these tunnels ruined utterly.
Something slammed into Glóin and knocked him off his feet just as a piece of burning timber crashed down where he had stood. The dwarf landed hard on the stone, his pack flying in one direction and his axes in another. He grunted when an elbow dug into his stomach and a knee caught in his thigh, his rescuer struggling to her feet awkwardly.
It was a dwarrowmaid, one Glóin didn’t recognize. Her clothes were worn and plain with soot and burn marks on the hem, but her expression was fierce and her stance was proud as she looked down at him.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” his rescuer asked sharply. “This is no time for lollygagging; there’s a dragon on the loose.”
Despite her tone, the dwarrowmaid held out a hand to help him up and with that touch, Glóin's heart was lost for good.