Chapter Text
The first time she had pressed her lips against his, Bard had been surprised at the feel of the whiskers along her jawline. He had been even more surprised at how soft they were. He knew they were there, had often wondered how different it would feel when a dwarrowdam would kiss someone not of their kind when he would be so much more used to the smooth jawlines of a daughter of Man or an Elven maid.
There was a beauty that Bard had come to appreciate when looking on Dís of Erebor. She did not have the full beard of some dwarrowdams, instead having longer sideburns along her jaw that ended just short of her chin. The tresses were long enough to have a few braids and beads within the braids when they had first met. She had since shifted those beads into her long, black hair. A few silver strands threaded through her black locks, but for the most part her hair was a perfect pitch black that was obviously a Durin trait. When he asked once how Fíli was so fair in comparison, she had simply smiled sadly and said Finn. He learned later that this was her late husband.
Finn and Bard's own late wife, Thyra, were initially subjects that neither Bard or Dís wished to bring up. When the two had initially become friends, finding themselves laying bets on when their respective eldest children would admit to their mutual feelings, they spoke of everything but their spouses. They spoke of the goings on in the mountain, including how changed Thorin was since he had been reunited with Enelya and the two were wed. They spoke of the repairs both within the mountain and those now moving forward in Dale.
Soon they started to speak on more day to day matters that were little to do with diplomacy. They spoke of their children and the childhoods they had, all the while tip-toeing around the two subjects that left them both hollow and raw.
In the end, it was Finn and Thyra who brought them together in a more intimate sense.
Dís had been edgy, something Bard had immediately noted when she stepped into his halls one evening. Glancing at the nearby time piece, he was admittedy surprised to see her. Night would be falling soon, plus it looked to begin storming any moment. The dwarves that were working in the square would stay at various places, those of the Company staying with Bard himself. Many were already finishing for the day and retreating to freshen up before getting food and ale before they would turn in for the night.
It left Dís and Bard alone for the moment. Every time he asked a question of her, her responses were sharp and clipped. He wondered, for a moment, if he had done something to upset her. Yet no recollection within his memory brought forth something to make him think that he had indeed upset her.
Bard had taken note that Kíli and Fíli had both watched their mother with concern when they had stopped in to see her before heading off to the local pub with Bofur and others of the Company. He knew then that something else was amiss with the lovely princess of Erebor. However, she had wanted nothing to do with any sort of conversation, retreating to her rooms instead. With a sigh, he had seen to his own needs for dinner, having a servant take something up to her. When the woman had returned, she had looked upset in her own right.
"She was crying," was all the young maid had said before bobbing a curtsey and heading into the kitchens.
The thought of Dís crying bothered Bard. He had never seen anyone as strong as her, save for his own daughter, who he knew had gotten that from his beloved Thyra. The fact was, Dís had lost even more than his own family. Losing her home at such a young age, losing her husband when her children were but wee babes, losing her grandfather, father, and brother at the same time as her husband, then coming horrendously close to losing her last brother and both sons. He hoped that his daughter would never face the same hardships Dís had or that they had already endured in their own little family.
Finishing his meal, he headed upstairs. He thought it best to give Dís the night, yet his feet had carried him towards her suite instead of his own. He was thankful the Company was not back yet to hear the sobs coming from Dís' room in that moment, nor that his children were home to hear either, having spent the night at various friends' homes this evening. He gave a single knock before entering the room, almost wishing he had waited when he saw Dís in nothing but a pale shift covering her body.
"Get out," Dís said, her voice trembling.
"I wanted to--," Bard started before dodging a vase that came flying. "What in the bloody seven hells is wrong with you?!"
"I said get out!" Dís yelled at him. "The neanderthal ways of men may be appealing to the women of your race, but they are not for ours!"
Bard's spine stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Neanderthal ways of men?" he questioned hotly. "I merely came to see how you were as I was concerned. Friends do that!"
Dís hurried foward and shoved against Bard's abdomen, ignoring the feel of strong muscle beneath the clothing covering him.
"Get out!" she said again, shoving him more and more until she hissed and hobbled backwards, blood trailing from where she had cut her foot on one of the shattered shards from the vase she had thrown at him.
Bard moved over to her, dodging the punches she threw at him, though one did catch his jaw. Thankfully he had dodged enough that it would only leave a bruise and not break the bone as he was sure it would have otherwise.
"Dammit, Dís, I am trying to help you!" he snapped as he caught her arms and held her in a vice-like grip against his chest. He ignored his body's betrayal at how right it felt as she fought against him.
"Please," Dís said, her voice cracknig. "Just go..."
A frown formed deeper on Bard's face. He shifted and picked the dwarrowdam up into his arms. He carried her to the bed and set her on the edge. He lifted a finger to indicate she stay when she tried to shove him away. He fetched a basin of water, a towel, and some clean cloths before kneeling in front of her. Taking her foot, he made sure there was no glass still in the cut before he began to clean it and wrap it.
"Finn did this," Dís finally whispered. Bard lifted his head, seeing her broken expression. "On this day even. I had made a special dinner, to give him a very special gift. I was so clumsy then and dropped a dish. I cut my foot on one of the shards."
"I can not envision you ever being clumsy," Bard admitted quietly, giving her a gentle smile.
"Pregnancy made me clumsy," Dís whispered. Her lips quirked sadly as Bard straightened once he had finished bandaging her foot. "I had known for a couple days that I was with child. With my Fíli. I decided to wait until Finn's naming day to tell him."
Now it makes sense... Bard thought. He moved until he sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Today is his naming day, isn't it?" he asked gently.
A tear slid from her sapphire blue eyes, down her cheek. "Aye," she whispered. "It's the seventy-seventh one I've spent without him." She turned to look at Bard, another tear slipping onto her cheek. "Why do I still cry as if it were just yesterday when Thorin told me he was lost?"
Bard reached up to brush the tear away, his calloused fingers a stark contrast to her smooth skin. "Because he was the love of your life," he said, his voice rough. "Just as I cry myself to sleep on Thyra's life day and on Tilda's life day. Despite how long it has been, we will always love them and miss them as if we just lost them."
"Why Tilda's life day?" Dís had to ask. Bard smiled sadly, his eyes filling with tears.
"Thyra gave up her life to bring Tilda into this world," he said quietly, his voice catching. "I could never let Tilda see the pain, because I love her with all I am. I would never give her up for anything, but I do wish that the price had not been so high."
Dís pulled his head down to hers until their foreheads touched. She stroked a thumb over his cheek. "The day the warriors returned from Azanulbizar was the day I had Kíli," she whispered. "The loss of Finn, my brother, grandfather, and father sent me into labor. I know the pain and joy you feel."
"Neither of them would want us to be like this," Bard said, his forehead pressing to hers more. "They would want us to rejoice in the life they had, not mourn the life they never could."
"My head knows that, but my heart shatters every year," she whispered.
Bard moved his head to press a kiss to her forehead. "Mine does as well," he replied. Dís lifted her chin, looking up at him. Neither knew truly which moved first, but they found their mouths pressed together as Dís moved her hand to tangle her fingers into Bard's hair as his own fingers brushed through the length of her sideburns and moved down along her neck and shoulders.
The heat between them grew as she laid back, tugging Bard with her. Soon he was laying beside her, pressed to her side. There was no hiding the erection he had, his hands moving from her shoulders to cover one full breast, massaging gently through her shift.
"Dís," Bard murmured, pulling his mouth from hers.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please... I... we need this."
She wasn't wrong and he didn't have the strength to deny either of them. Instead he pressed a kiss to her lips again, just as quickly skimming his lips along her jaw to her neck. His body shifted, groaning as his cock strained against his trousers. He moved his head down, his mouth wrapping around the taut peak of her nipple that pressed against the fabric of her shift. He suckled her, feeling her gasp and arch into his mouth. He took advantage of her arching, drawing the shift up past her hips.
Trailing lips along her cloth-covered torso, he had to pause as he got to her pelvis. He was shocked to see that Dís’ very core was devoid of all hair. Brushing his fingers along her skin in a teasing manner, he was even more shocked to feel just how smooth she was. Not even a trace that she had groomed herself bare. He realized that for all the beards that dwarrowdams had along their cheeks, they had no hair from the waist down as he took note that Dís legs were also devoid of hair. It sent a shot of desire straight to his cock to think that their skin would be so close.
Lowering his head further, Bard nuzzled the very top of her mound, his lips caressing the folds of her core. He felt the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair. He shifted his body to lay along her lengthwise before his mouth was burying against her folds. He began to lick at her, finding the sweet essence as tantalizing as the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted. A hand moved to part her pussy lips to allow his tongue to circle against her before slowing pushing into her body. He slowly thrust his tongue into her over and over, lapping at the bundle of flesh he found deep inside of her with the tip of his tongue.
Bard buried his mouth against her more, letting his beard brush along her clit when he felt her free hand pulling at the opening of his trousers and slip beneath the material to circle his throbbing cock. He covered her pussy more, stroking her inner walls with his tongue in time with her strokes along his length. Her hand disappeared a moment before she took hold again, her palm wet as she began to stroke him. He had a vision in his mind of her licking the length of her palm before wrapping her hand around his cock.
He moaned against her, his tongue moving back and forth within her as she stroked him. Her hips lifted to his questing mouth even as his hips moved against her hand. He moved his hands to hold on of her thighs, massaging the flesh as the other slipped between his mouth and her core. Moving his attentions to her clit, he began to suckle at the bundle of nerves as he pushed two long fingers into her body.
“Mahal… Bard,” Dís whimpered, her hand tightening around his length, tugging it teasingly. One thumb brushed over the head, precum coating their skin. As his fingers began to thrust a bit faster, her hand picked up their own rhythm. Her hips were trying to shift away from his attentions, both needing the tactile sensations, yet wanting to flee from the impending orgasm that was building within her.
Drawing her clit into his mouth, Bard held it between his teeth and flicked his tongue against the tip just as he curled his fingers to rub her g-spot. A soft cry escaped her as she moved her hips to him, her fingers tightening in an almost vice-like grip around his cock, still stroking him. Her pace increased, stroking him as fast as she could, each stroke in time with her desperate pants as she got closer to release.
“Let go,” Bard whispered against her pussy before pressing against her g-spot as his mouth closed over her core once more and his tongue slipped into her beside his fingers. Dís arched her head back, her hips lifting and bucking against his mouth and fingers as she all but screamed her release. Her fingers slackened slightly on his cock, but she managed to continue to stroke him. It only took a few more strokes before his cock swelled and released his seed along her side and belly. He groaned into her body, his own pleasure washing over him.
They lay there, boneless, catching their breath. Bard finally sat up, licking his lips and tasting her there still. He moved until he rested at her head, pressing kisses to her neck. Leaning over her, he kissed her lazily. She groaned at the taste of her on his lips, licking her very essence off of his lips. Need thundered through him as she was the first woman he had ever been with that didn’t demand he rinse his mouth before kissing them after he had given them oral satisfaction. Some never allowed him to, including Thyra.
Thoughts of his wife doused the need immediately. They had both needed this, but his heart ached for his late wife, as he knew Dís ached for Finn. He brushed his lips against Dís’s once more.
“I should get back to my room before the Company and your sons return,” he admitted.
Dís didn’t want him to leave, she wanted to feel his cock inside of her, his hips pounding into hers over and over, wringing pleasure from every pore of her body. Yet she knew he was right. They were lucky to not have had anyone home to have overheard her cries of pleasure and rush into the room.
With one last kiss, Bard righted himself as much as he could before slipping out of her rooms to head to his. Dís rose and stripped out of the shift that was now covered with his seed. She poured water into a basin to clean her thighs and core, eyes fluttering at how sensitive they were from his attentions. She was not unaccustomed to the pleasant burn of whiskers against her inner thighs or core, had experienced it often enough with Finn.
Eyes closing, the thought of her late husband was like a splash of cold water. Slipping into a clean shift, she climbed into bed with thoughts of her husband. However, when her eyes closed, it was a pair of too-serious light brown eyes instead of mischievous dark eyes that haunted her dreams that night.