Uncle Dwalin
imagine || Based on this “everybody lives” AU head canon + art
Dwalin still couldn’t figure out how he, of all people, got roped into this.
There was something about the governess needing to tend to her sick husband and the other one still running an errand in Dale. Kili was with Tauriel visiting her kin, Fili was on a diplomatic mission, and Thorin needed to be with his wife, who was quite possibly going into labor with baby No. 7. Dis was by the queen’s side - she preferred to be there rather than babysitting.
“You’re the next best choice for the task,” Thorin told him, patting his back firmly as he led his longtime friend to his children’s nursery, which gave Dwalin more willies than anything he’d faced on the battlefield.
There was Frerin, who, with lightning speed, was repeatedly taking apart, then re-assembling, a set of toys with moveable parts, including a winged toy dragon that Dwalin knew had taken Bifur a full day and a half to make.
Thrain sat in a small chair, screeching as the oldest, Lily, stood behind him, working her way through his tangles with a brush. Thror, the second born, was rolling around baby Kieran, who sat in the center of the room, kicking his stubby little legs back and forth and shaking his rattle. Frerin’s quiet twin, Rowan, painted in a corner, but even that looked intense as he swirled and twisted and splotched on the concoction of colors on the large sheet of paper with a bristle brush.
Dwalin turned to Thorin. “You can’t be serious. I’m not cut out for this!”
Upon hearing his booming voice, the older children looked up and squealed, “Uncle Dwalin!”
Despite his trepidation at playing babysitter, he welcomed his pretend nephews and niece with bear hugs and gentle head knocks. He couldn’t love them more if they were his own children, and he would protect them fiercely as he had their father. He growled playfully at Kieran, who looked at him curiously, then smiled and kicked excitedly.
Thorin scanned his children’s darling faces as they returned to their play. “Don’t hurt him too badly,” he ordered, with a wink.
“We won’t!” they sang mischievously.
Dwalin assessed the scene again, sighed, then marched over to the rocking chair usually reserved for the governess.
No sooner had he settled in and started feeling comfortable than Thror began climbing up the back of the chair with something in his hand. Dwalin was just about to grab him when Rowan stopped painting and asked, “What happened to your hair right there, Uncle Dwalin? He pointed at his bald spot.
“It’s gone.”
“But Uncle Balin has all his hair,” Frerin said.
“And?
“And, you’re brothers!” Lily said as she ran through more snags in Thrain’s long locks, making him howl.
“SO?”
“So, you should have hair like him,” she said.
“Following that logic, lass, I suppose you think my hair should be snowy white and flipped up at the ends, too?”
She stopped brushing Thrain’s hair, much to her brother’s relief, and looked thoughtfully at her pretend uncle for a while, trying to imagine him with flowing white locks.
“No,” she decided. “You’d look terrible with white hair.”
Dwalin grunted and with both hands finally slid the squirming tot hanging over his right shoulder down like he was setting down a sack of sugar.
“What on earth are you doing, lad?!”
“I stuck you with Orcrist!” Thror said, jabbing him with a short pointy oaken tree branch.
“You call that sticking?” He grabbed the wooden dagger and examined it. “Who made this?”
“Lily,” every boy in the room said in unison.
She looked up from her brushing and smiled proudly.
“Hmm…not bad. A little too sharp for playing, though,” he said, tucking it into an inside pocket. “By the way, does your mother know I’ve been showing you how to make play weapons?”
“She figured it out,” Frerin said.
“Great,” Dwalin grumbled. “Does she know I’ve been training you on the sly?”
Every head nodded, except of course for Kieran, who looked like he was concentrating on something, his cherubic face focused on Dwalin’s.
“She said you should stop being sneaky about it and just train us every day already,” Lily said.
Dwalin blew out an exasperated huff.
“She also knows you’re the one who taught us ish kakhfê ai-‘d dûr-rugnu,”Frerin said.
“WHAT? I never taught you that!”
“But you’ve said it in front of us,” Lily said.
“And I‘ll have you know your father has said that PLENTY of times - shouted it in the halls of Elven royalty, no less!”
“But he’s never said that in front of us,” Rowan said shyly.
Dwalin made himself calm down. “Does your mother know all the good I’ve shown you? How to spit melon seeds as far as you can? How to belch like you mean it? How to clear a room with a quick squat and grunt?”
The room erupted with giggles and roars, especially Frerin, who did all those things like a champ.
“You forgot about the stitching,” Rowan peeped, remembering how Dwalin had tenderly repaired a patch in the boy’s trousers after a rough fall in the grass tore the fabric at the knee. He’d shown Rowan how to thread the needle, how to stitch in a straight line.
The raucous room suddenly fell silent as Dwalin tightened his jaw and bore his eyes into the timid child, who hid behind his twin.
“You can sew, Uncle Dwalin?” Thror asked in amazement.
Small, wondrous eyes were on him. He was cornered – and flattered.
“Aye.”
“Will you make me something?” Frerin asked.
“No.”
And then the pleas began. Make us tunics like our father’s! Can you make hats? Make something for Amad’s birthday!
“You little hellions, I only fix rips and such, I don’t design,” he said unconvincingly.
But they sensed his fib and kept begging.
Suddenly there was a whisper of a grunt followed by a ghastly scent that exploded in the air and rose up, wrapping around everyone’s faces, smothering them.
“Ugh!” The children wailed, each one scrambling for something in the room to cover their noses with – blankets, pillows, towels, their own clothes. But it was too much, too much!
Lily ran over to the door, pulled it open and went flying out of the room, her brothers following. Dwalin heard them fall into the arms of their returning nanny.
“Ha-ha-ha!” Dwalin said, reaching down and lifting Kieran up proudly.
“There you go!” he said. “You saved me, laddie! Clearin’ the room, just like Uncle Dwalin taught ya!”
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