It's been ages since my last FF. Real life has kept me busy, my PhD thesis is coming to its end, and then there was MagicCon in April... But today is Mother's Day and suddenly my music player started "If you're reading this" by Tim McGraw, a beautiful song that was the inspiration for the Harry Potter FF with the same name. (Almost 8 years ago! Where did the time go?!)

So that song was also the inspiration for this ficlet. It's Dís-appreciation-day! Seriously though, there are things we never tell our mothers and it's only when it's too late that we wish we had said it earlier. Even after all these years and all these fanfics, my heart still aches for Dís. And Dwalin, for that matter. You can read this as a shipper fic if you like, but personally I see them as friends.

Already home

The fire is cracking, sending warmth and the distinct smell of burning timber to her. Here, in her chamber, it doesn't matter that winter has claimed the mountain. Outside it may be freezing, the lake an icy plain, the grounds covered in snow. In here, it is warm, almost too much so, for dwarves have an inner fire that is hotter than any fireplace, any forge could ever be.

"Are you comfortable?"

She smiles softly and nods. Yes, she is. There was a time when she wasn't, when she felt like suffocating inside these huge walls, when this place took her breath away like everything else she held dear. But not today.

"Read it one more time", she pleads. She knows she is asking a lot from him, though he would never complain. "Please, Dwalin."

She hears the rustling of the paper as he unfolds the thin parchment. The sound has become so familiar and yet it is something she will never get used to. How can that sound be all that is left, when she should hear voices, and laughter?

"My dearest sister", he begins, and as the words fill the room she allows herself to drift away.

"My dearest sister. If you're reading this, we will not meet again in this life. It means our farewell in the Ered Luin was indeed a goodbye, and how I wish I had told you so much more than I did back then. As I write these words, war is raging outside the gates of Erebor and my company is preparing for battle. How I deserve their loyalty I do not know. Mahal knows I've failed them many times. The lads will probably not speak of it and I will spare you the details, and in the end I think I have redeemed myself if only a little. I pray that my end shall be an honourable one, one worthy of a son of Durin, and if I go I will go knowing that Erebor will be in good hands.

I'm under no illusion that, should Erebor fall into enemy hands, this letter will never reach you. You reading this means that we were victorious, and Erebor will be ours – yours – Durin's folk's again. Fíli will make a wonderful king, I do not doubt that anymore. He's proven himself on this journey, and with his brother and mother by his side he will lead the dwarves of Erebor in a better way than I could ever have. Everything I did, I did for them and for you, and I can only hope that it was not in vain.

My dear sister, fate has never been kind to the line of Durin. But better times are ahead and I hope that you will find a home here, even when I could not. There will be a time to grieve, a time to scorn, but eventually there will be a time to live.

One day we will meet again. I will be waiting for you in Mandos' halls, with Nóli and Frerin by my side, but I hope and know that it won't be for a long time. You are a daughter of Durin and stronger than any of us, your fire will not be so easily quenched.

Farewell Dís, my beloved sister. May we meet again with the grace of Mahal."

Dwalin's voice ebbs away, and she knows his eyes are glistening ever so slightly. They always do when he reads these words. She reaches out and lays her hand onto his. Thank you. It's hard for him, she knows that, but there isn't anyone she would ask but him.

"Dear mother", he begins anew, and as the fire whispers, she sees him and can almost hear his voice.

"Dear mother, how can I begin to tell you what I need to say, when time is running out and the end is drawing close? I wish I could stop time, just to cherish each second, each blink of an eye, everything I always took for granted. And yet I am sitting here waiting for the call, waiting for that moment when we defend our home for one last time. I say our home, but deep down, I know that Erebor is not my home. Not yet. Home is where you are, in the Ered Luin, where life was easy, simple yet good and honourable, and all the horrors the world holds were but children's stories.

I don't regret going on this journey, even if the end is not what I wished for. If you're reading this, it means I will not return. That promise I could not keep, and for that I am truly sorry. The other promise, though, I hope I kept. I looked out for Kíli, and if my death means that he will live, then I would gladly do it all again.

You often said that I would follow in Thorin's footsteps, but I know that I've always followed yours, and for that I am grateful. I wouldn't be who I am today if it wasn't for you. You were the world to me when your own had fallen apart, and even though I could hardly understand what kind of strength that demanded of you when I was child, I think I understand now. Everything I am, I am because of you, and I hope that I can make you proud.

I will always miss you.

Fíli."

Dwalin's voice breaks at the last word. Just the name, a strong name for a strong dwarf, her lionheart, who never knew just how much he resembled his father in more than looks. Her eyes start to burn and her heart aches, the all too familiar pain she has felt for such a long time. But the pain will fade.

"Dís…"

Dwalin's won't, that much is just as certain. She hates herself for putting him through this, but she needs to hear the words like she needs to breathe. Damn Mahal for weakening her eyes after all this time, what a cruel trick he has played, and when she meets the Maker he will have to answer for that.

"Please."

One last time the parchment unfolds, and she squeezes Dwalin's hand.

"Ma, I don't know why I'm even writing this. It's not really optimistic thinking now, is it, writing a goodbye letter? But Fíli is doing it so… I'm writing this knowing you'll never read it anyway because everything I need to tell you, I'll tell you myself.

Fee's worried, I can tell from the way he looks at me. He probably won't tell you this, just to not worry you more than you already do, but I had a quite-too-close encounter with some orks on the way and although I've recovered, I guess Fee doesn't think I'm fit for battle. Which I am, obviously.

I won't lie to you, at one point I wasn't so sure I'd make it. Maybe I'll tell you everything once you're here. For a moment, I was scared. Not so much of dying, but of leaving you all behind and going on to the Halls on my own. There was a moment during the journey when I thought I'd lost Fee, and I still recall that instant when everything slowed down, the world stood still, and all I could think was "No. No, not yet". I'd never been so afraid in all my life, and if things had gone differently… but they didn't. Just like they didn't when I was in limbo between this world and the other, when that damn wound had poisoned me and tried to pull me into darkness. Well, now I told you more than I wanted to, but I'm afraid there is no time to write it all again.

I know you never wanted me to leave, and I promised to return. I intend to keep that promise. I will forever be grateful that you let me go, and for the faith you put in me (and yes, I know you only did so because Fee promised to watch over me, which he always did, so if anything happens don't blame him). This is not a goodbye. It's a see-you-soon.

Love, Kee."

Her face is wet from the tears that have started to fall, somewhere between the first and second part. Kíli. She can see him so clearly, his cheeky grin, his mischievous eyes; she can hear his laughter and his last words. I will come back.

"I am so sorry, Dís."

She has lost count on how often Dwalin has said these five words. More than once these words caused her to scream at him, to push him away yelling and asking why he failed them. Often they made her take his hand, telling him that he mustn't blame himself, knowing that no matter what she said wouldn't erase his guilt.

Now she remains silent. She knows he is crying, even though he tries to not make her notice. It breaks her heart, knowing that he will be left behind. He's given all he ever had and more, and for some reason unbeknownst to her, Mahal thinks his role has not yet come to an end.

His words echo in her ears, the last lines of each letter, and as her breath slows down her lips curl to a smile. The tears assemble in the deep lines around her mouth, some run into her grey beard, and she knows that the time has finally come.

"Thank you, Dwalin. For everything."

Her words are but a whisper, barely audible against the cackling sound of the flames. She takes a deep breath. It is time. She is ready.

We will meet again.

And as she drifts away, she can see them, waiting, smiling; they greet her and finally, finally Dís, daughter of Durin, is home.