"Tattooing, when understood in its entirety, must be seen as a religious act. The human being brings forth images from the center of the self and communicates them to the world. Fantasy is embodied in reality and the person is made whole." -Spider Webb, Artist

...

Nyr, son of Nithi, returned to Erebor with the first group of settlers from Ered Luin, not long after the Battle of Five Armies. He was not a warrior; not a miner or a builder; not of noble birth. He was a kakau inker, one of the best, and he knew his skills would be needed.

Erebor was just as he remembered it, save for the dragon stench and the heavy cloud of death that clung to the stone walls. Nyr hasn't been much more than a stripling apprentice at the time, but he was old enough to feel the hollow longing when they lost the mountain. Smaug had kept mainly to the treasure room and only the pathway there had been irrevocably destroyed. Deeper in the mountain, once the dust had been cleared away, the homes and businesses had withstood the test of time. They were in need of repair, cleaning, and restocking, but the dwarrows had built them well.

The small set of rooms which had housed his family's kakau studio were virtually untouched. The stone table still held the rotted remains of the trade tools- the wooden hahau mallet was mostly gone, but the tusk moli combs were still intact. Small pots of ink were long-since dried out, decaying after more than 170 years of neglect. It was easy enough for Nyr to remember where he had been on the day of the dragon fire. He had been standing in the same place he currently stood, helping Nithi -his father and master- prepare to ink a uhi mark onto a warrior who never made it out of the mountain.

Nyr set to cleaning and repairing and by the time the first heavy snow blanketed Erebor, he was ready to begin work. He did not advertise his presence or hang a sign outside his door. Those who needed his skills would find him, just as they always had.

"Dwalin." When the warrior showed up at his door, Nyr had been expecting it. Two comfortable chairs were placed near the fire, his sketchbook open and waiting on a small side table.

"Nyr. My friend." They clasped arms in greeting before settling in the chairs. "You know why I'm here."

"The fallen king and his heirs." Nyr nodded, reaching for his sketchbook, then deciding better of it. "I will give you an uhi mark to honor them."

...

Nyr first met Dwalin just after the battle of Azanulbizar. Nyr was an apprentice, learning the sacred protocols of the kakau process from his master. It was a skill that was passed from father to son, going back so many generations that his family had all but lost count. The ink was in their blood and stained onto their fingertips. Dwalin had been nothing but a stripling, a young fighter-in-training who had seen his first taste of war. When Dwalin had walked into their kakau studio, Nithi almost turned him away. Uhi marks were sacred. More than ornamentation, they created a deep, spiritual bond between the bearer and his ancestors. Dwalin's hands already bore the back-alley tattoos common among warriors trying to show off their strength. His fingers were each inked with two poorly executed cirth runes, spelling out the Khuzdul battle cry: Baruk khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! A young warrior seeking to brag had no place in a kakau studio. But Nithi had seen the pain in Dwalin's eyes and knew he was worthy. He had lost his father, one of his best friends, and his king. Only those seeking spiritual healing or to honor their ancestors could bear a uhi mark. Dwalin was looking for both.

His first set of uhi were three flask-shaped spirit vessels across the crown of his freshly shaven head. The design and placement was always chosen by the kakau inker and Nithi chose the head because Dwalin would carry those he lost forever in his thoughts. One vessel for his father, Fundin; one for his shield-brother, Frerin; and one for his king, Thrór. Each of the vessels was capped with an umùrad- a small cross inside of a square. The square itself was symbolic of the four stages of life: birth, childhood, adulthood, and death. The vertical beams of the cross stood for the spiritual, while the transverse beams represented the material existence. The umùrad was a sign for those who had passed on to the Halls of Waiting, to feast with the ancestors. As the orc Azog had carved his name into Thrór's severed head, so Dwalin inked the king's memory into his own. Years later, a fourth spirit vessel was added for Thrain, who vanished from beneath the eaves of Mirkwood while Dwalin and the rest of their party slept.

Dwalin came back fifty years after his first uhi and requested another. Nithi was getting on in age and decided to make that mark his last official kakau inking. Dwalin had spent the years learning about his ancestors and embracing the culture that was all but lost to the dragon. He wanted a uhi mark to recapture the living pulse of his heritage. Nithi chose to add to the work he had already done on the warrior's head, attaching deeper sentiment to those who were lost. Five stone gates were inked into Dwalin's flesh- one for Mount Gundabad; one for Khazad-Dûm; one for the Iron Hills; one for Ered Mithrin; and one for Erebor. The five kingdoms of the Longbeards, Durin's Folk. Just below the gates, spanning the crest of Dwalin's forehead, were thirteen of the same umùrad symbols that capped the spirit vessels. The center umùrad was for Durin the Deathless, who woke alone. The remaining twelve umùrad were divided evenly on either side, representing the other six father's of the dwarrows and their wives. When the uhi marks were finished, Nithi retired his tools and Nyr became a kakau master. Dwalin wore the marks with pride, not knowing then that the thirteen uhi would later come to represent something more.

When Nyr became a kakau master, he shaved his beard and received his own uhi marks- geometric designs that were inked into his arms and chest, running all the way up to his lower jaw. They were the symbols of his craft, proof of his dedication and training. When the time came to ink his first uhi marks as a master Nyr sought out Dwalin, because he wanted the marks to be gifted to a deserving friend. He took his time with the design, making it strong and solid. The uhi he chose was a stylized shape, reminiscent of an ax blade. It covered the back of Dwalin's left hand and wrapped around his wrist in a band. When the left hand was finished, Nyr repeated the design on the right. Dwalin's axes, Ukhlat and Umraz, were extensions of the warrior himself. With one he would grasp the souls of his enemies and with the other he would keep them. The uhi marks would keep the axes close at hand, even when they weren't. They would be provider and protector. Dwalin learned his skills as a warrior from his father and his father before him. He learned not to fear battle and to trust in his training. The uhi marks would remind him that every time he drew his axes 10,000 hands would draw them with him, because his ancestors were never far out of reach.

Just before Dwalin left on the quest to re-take Erebor, he came to the kakau studio one final time. The thirteen umùrad on his forehead had taken on a second meaning as he would be one of thirteen dwarrows who would risk their lives for their homeland. The mountain had been lost for 170 years, but it would not be lost for much longer. Nyr inked ten diamonds onto each of Dwalin's hands -across the lower knuckles– one for every twenty years Erebor had belonged to the dragon. The uhi marks were to symbolize the earth and the dwarrows deep relation to it. Diamonds were a sign of peace and unity. Nyr left eight as outlines for the years of struggle and filled the remaining twelve in to show the years of relative peace and prosperity. When he left, Dwalin swore the next uhi marks would be inked at the kakau studio in Erebor.

...

Dwalin cracked his knuckles absently, a sound that drew Nyr from his thoughts. "You will need to prepare for a fortnight. The first seven days will be spent reflecting on those you've lost and praying to Mahal for his strength and guidance. This will continue for the last seven days, but you will also abstain from alcohol, animal flesh, and carnal pleasures. The last two days will be spent fasting and in meditation."

"I understand," Dwalin agreed, knowing the routine very well. "And the final night I will cleanse and prepare myself. I will return to you as the sun crests on the fourteenth morning."

As Dwalin left the kakau studio, Nyr stood and began to gather his tools- they both had preparations to make.

Nyr was gifted with fluency in the language of ink. He was quiet, humble, and meticulous. He knew his trade inside and out. Being a kakau inker was not about putting a design onto the flesh, but more about clearing away the dirt and pain and revealing the hidden jewel beneath. That's what the uhi mark was- something powerful and personal. Something that managed to evoke both the bearer's past and his potential. It provoked a spiritual transformation- as if changing the skin's surface also altered the soul. Getting a uhi mark was a rebirth- an act of accepting what was in the past, embracing life, and stepping forward into the future with a clear mind and a willing heart.

Nyr reflected on the spiritual importance of the uhi marks as he began his protocols. First, he removed the hahau mallet from its case and carefully polished it with a soft cloth until the dark wood gleamed. The hahau was hewn from the wood of the ulei tree, and was carved with geometric designs and the cirth runes for peace. Next, Nyr drew out the comb-like moli and laid it on the worn worktable. It had taken him over a month to carve the set of tiny needles out of an Oliphant tusk. None of his tools were metal, which was unusual for a dwarf, but he knew Mahal understood the need for natural simplicity.

The day before Dwalin was due in the kakau studio, Nyr set about making the ink. He offered prayers to The Maker as he blended the burnt kukui-nut ash with water and oil. The resulting ink was dark and thick, the perfect consistency for clinging to the moli needles.

The morning of the inking, Nyr woke long before daybreak and took the moli out the front gates of Erebor to cleanse it in the Running River. As he reverently washed the moli a chill ran over him that had nothing to do with the icy water. The Lune outside of Ered Luin had never given him the same sense of rightness that he felt with the Running River. It was as if Erebor was welcoming him home, and the mountain itself was weeping forth the river to bless the uhi mark honoring its fallen king.

Dwalin entered the kakau studio as the sun broke over the mountaintop. He was clad simply, wearing only a light tunic and a pair of low-slung breeches. His feet were bare and his beard unbraided.

"Are you well prepared?" Nyr asked as a mere formality.

"I am," Dwalin replied, seating himself on the padded bench. When Nyr motioned for him to recline, the warrior shifted onto his back and closed his eyes.

Nyr moved his tray of tools to a table near the bench and sat down on a tall stool. "You carry the legacy of your ancestors on your flesh and in your heart. Those who are lost will never be far from your thoughts. I have prayed on your request for an uhi to honor the fallen king and Mahal has blessed the design."

Whispering words of prayer in a broken mix of Khuzdul and Westron, Nyr carefully anointed Dwalin's head with oils before wiping it clean. Using a bit of charcoal he drew the basic design, then picked up his tools and began. He dipped the needles of the moli into the ink pot before placing it carefully onto the skin. With a steady hand Nyr tapped the hahau mallet against the back of the moli- pushing the tips of the needles into the flesh of Dwalin's head. He paused after the first strike to let Dwalin adjust to the pain, then started up in earnest, hand-tapping the design with the cadence of a heartbeat.

Hours crawled by as Nyr worked tirelessly with rapt focus and an unfailing attention to detail. The uhi marks took shape slowly, the sharp lines becoming noticeable designs as the indelible ink settled beneath the skin. The steady tap-tap-tapping and Dwalin's occasional sharp intake of breath were the only sounds.

Nyr could see the tightness in Dwalin's brow when the moli would hit a particularly sensitive bit of flesh. He knew the initial burn of pain had given way to the achy haze of adrenalin as the repetitious punctures drove the ink deep into the warrior's skin. With every tap of the needle Nyr offered a silent prayer or promise and he knew that Dwalin was doing the same. Without the prayers it would simply be a design with no meaning. With them, the uhi mark became significant- something hopeful and heartfelt and borne in ink.

As dusk neared Nyr could tell that the pain was beginning to wear on Dwalin. A thin sheen of sweat coated his brow and his jaw remained firmly clenched as he breathed heavily through his nose. Occasionally, a dwarf could no longer stand the pain and left with an unfinished mark. It was seen as the sign of a coward. Dwalin had withstood the pain before and would continue to do so. Nyr knew the warrior would not move until the uhi mark was complete.

At long last Nyr set down his tools and reached for a bowl of clean water. Dampening a cloth, he carefully washed the blood and spare ink from Dwalin's head. The flesh was red and raised, but as it was cleaned the uhi mark stood out crisply against the surrounding skin. Nyr offered one last prayer to Mahal and leaned back to examine his work. "It is done, my friend."

Dwalin opened his eyes and sat up slowly, steadying himself on the bench. "I would see what you've done."

Nyr held up a small mirrored glass and Dwalin peered into it intently. His head still boasted the thirteen umùrad and the five gates. But instead of four spirit vessels, there were now six. The farthest left was sealed with two umùrad representing the heirs who would not be separated, even in death. The furthest right was sealed with a crown. More than Thrór; more than Thrain; more than Dain; Thorin would always be Dwalin's king and shield-brother.

"You did good work, as always," Dwalin said softly. "You have given me an everlasting gem that I will carry to my grave."

"They are your histories, I have only written them onto your skin." Nyr put the mirror down and walked to the other side of the kakau studio, where he took down two mugs and a bottle of mead. "Now we will toast the gods and drink to the memories of your friends. Let their spirits guide and watch over you until you are reunited in The Halls." He filled the mugs and handed one to the warrior.

Dwalin took a long swallow and then a deep breath, a look of peace setting over his features. "Their deaths came much too soon, but that does not make them meaningless. They died so that we could have our homeland back. Where my life was once devoted to protecting the line of Durin, I am now destined to guard the mountain it fell for. I will bear their memories on my flesh and do them proud."

And so he did.

...

A/N: Tolkien and tattoos... two of my favorite things! Did you enjoy my take on Dwalin and his ink?

-The meaning of the runes on Dwalin's hands (the battle cry) are movie!cannon. Movie!cannon also says that the head tattoos have something to do with the customs of the dwarrows, but what is unspecified. Everything else is my interpretation. You don't even want to know how many hours I spent scouring the internet and books for photographs and symbol meanings. My versions of the square/cross and diamonds are based and real astrological and Norse lore (total side-note, diamonds can also be for sex/fertility). The gates, vessels, and axes are total fiction.

-We're going movie 'verse with the battle of Azanulbizar and saying that Thrór died there, and not nine years before (purely to simplify the timeline).

-Umùrad is Neo-Khuzdul for "soul". All the other terminology is legitimate for the hand-tapping tattoo techniques of Hawaii (which I based this HEAVILY on), except for kakau- which I bastardized and is technically the verb used to describe the technique.