-General-
Aldril's family rested for a whole week in the velvet-draped halls of Moria, time that his children did not let go to waste. Like their father, both had inherited a passion for knowledge; they loved history in particular, and Moria had much to offer them. Their reading, however, was interrupted on more than one occasion by the sons of Kíli and Fíli, who dragged them out of the libraries. Even so, this proved beneficial, for thanks to it they came to know much of what the Dwarven kingdom had to offer.
There was one place in particular that captured their attention: a vast hall where the vestiges of a titanic battle still remained. Scorch marks blackened the stone, and numerous structures appeared dented and fractured by the impact of something enormous and devastating.
"Are you saying my dad fought in this place?" asked Elenion in astonishment, observing the scars etched into the walls and columns.
"Yes, your father fought in this place," said a gruff voice.
The sudden intervention startled the little ones, who flinched and turned their heads toward the source of the sound. The echo of footsteps resonated in the hall, and soon they found themselves facing a Dwarf with a thick chestnut beard with reddish hues. In one hand he held a piece of dried pork, from which he took small bites with apparent indifference.
"Master Glóin, it is not good to scare us in that manner," protested one of Kíli's sons, crossing his arms with feigned annoyance.
Glóin dismissed the comment without even looking at him and walked to the spot where the scars in the stone were most visible. Placing his hand upon the blackened wall, he let out a deep sigh, as if the weight of the memory oppressed his chest.
"This is not a place for children to visit," he declared. "Return to your parents."
The Dwarf's words provoked immediate discontent among the sons of Kíli and Fíli, who began to protest loudly. They did not like having their fun ruined, especially because that place had always piqued their curiosity. For years, their parents had kept it strictly guarded, and this was the first and only occasion in which they had managed to get so close.
Unlike the Dwarves, Aldril's children looked at each other. Something was amiss in that place. It seemed strange that practically all of Moria was open to them, save for those zones in particular. Moved by their innate curiosity, they approached the Dwarf.
"Why can we not be here, Master Glóin?" asked Elentárië politely.
She knew the Dwarf well, for her father frequently took them to visit Erebor, where that bearded one with the gravelly voice always received Aldril with embraces and laughter.
"If it is something we should not know, then forgive my bold question," added the little one respectfully.
The half-elf's good faith was rewarded with a nod from Glóin. The Dwarf sketched a faint smile as he observed the broken columns and the scars on the stone.
"You have your mother's manners," he commented. "As for your question, this is a dangerous place. The creatures your father fought here could still be roaming in the deepest parts of the darkness. Although none have been sighted, it is prudent to be cautious and not to become complacent."
"What kind of creatures?" this time it was Elenion's turn to ask. "Father has only mentioned that he fought a Balrog and something else, but he has never told us what it was."
"And it is better that it stays that way!" replied Glóin, raising a finger. "Let not your curiosity lead you to discover something that could harm your fragile minds. You are still very young; when you are grown and mentally strong, you may know what dangers lurked—or still lurk—in the depths of Moria."
Such a mention sent a slight shiver through the children, and with good reason: for merely speaking, however briefly, of those creatures caused a malaise in the minds of the weakest, while chilling the spines of the moderately resilient.
"Well, now you know! Now scram, you brats, before I tell your parents you were here," Glóin growled.
Pushing them brusquely, he ushered them out of the hall. On the way he met the guards and, after a brief reprimand, ordered them to escort the children back.
...
Much as the little ones wished to return to the hall, it was impossible. A great number of Dwarven guards stood watch at every entrance; there was simply no way to sneak in unnoticed. Let us remember that the Lords of Moria were Kíli and Fíli, and both knew all too well how to slip into a hall teeming with guards undetected. Precisely for this reason, they had warned the sentries in advance to ensure their children could not enter.
Without a doubt, their mischievous side had served a purpose, though they rarely showed it anymore. They had grown; they were adults and, as such, had to comport themselves accordingly. They knew this well. However, being with Aldril carried them back to the days of the expedition, when adventure called.
An expedition they would never leave behind. Who could? They were hunted by Orcs and Wargs; they met the Elves of Rivendell; they ventured into the Misty Mountains and witnessed the battle of the Stone Giants; they were captured by Goblins and barely escaped Azog; they flew on Giant Eagles; they met a Skin-changer; they experienced the black magic of Mirkwood; they entered as outsiders into the old Lake-town; they saw a accursed dragon! And, to end it all, they fought alongside Men, Elves, and Dwarves against Orcs and the Warg clan.
Yes, an adventure without equal.
It is worth mentioning that, during the banquet the day before their departure, they got drunk while reminiscing about those experiences. Kíli even wept: nostalgia had hit him hard. Raising his goblet of wine, he exclaimed:
"Do you see it now, Balin?! These scoundrel Dwarves managed to reclaim their home! I hope you are proud of us!"
Shortly after that, he collapsed into a sea of tears. Kíli was joined by Fíli, who, just as drunk, embraced his brother while both vented their emotions like two small children.
They were not interrupted, much less criticized. Everyone knew the name of Balin: the wise Dwarf, the brave one who stood before Azog the Defiler, defended the King under the Mountain, and died giving him the chance to finish off the Pale Orc. His sacrifice continues to be told to this day.
Soon after, both brothers drifted into slumber and, with an apology from their wives, were taken to their chambers. Now only Aldril, Tauriel, and their two children remained, the latter already sleeping soundly, even amidst the racket made by the other Dwarves.
With no reason to stay longer, the Half-elf headed to his quarters. There, his beloved red-haired Elf tucked the children in with warm blankets; afterwards, she washed up and lay down. She invited Aldril to join her, but he shook his head.
"I want to get some air."
Tauriel knew that, even if her husband did not show it, the memory of that white-bearded Dwarf saddened him. She also knew that Aldril held Balin in very high esteem. In the years they shared, he had told her how the old Dwarf had showered him with advice and wisdom during their journey to Erebor, how he had always tried to include him in the group. Undoubtedly, despite the few months they knew each other, the Half-elf had come to care for him deeply.
"Do not be long, my love," Tauriel said as she sat up and placed a tender kiss on her beloved's lips.
...
In a secluded spot outside Moria, Aldril watched as a great number of Dwarves celebrated; it seemed the banquet had spilled out beyond the halls. Among the crowd, he spotted Men of Rhûn and Rhovanion, laughing and drinking alongside the Dwarves.
"A very fine view... it was always my dream to see it again," said an aged voice at his side.
Aldril closed his eyes for a moment while chuckling; at the same time, silent tears welled up in his eyes.
"We fulfilled your dream," he whispered.
"And I thank you for it."
Opening his eyes, Aldril turned to his right, from where the voice came, and there he saw him: semi-transparent, but unmistakable. It was the one for whom he had stepped out to get air. From time to time he could see spirits, something he had achieved after pushing his blessing to the limit, to the point of having fought alongside Lady Varda herself.
"I suppose it took you a long time to be able to come, didn't it?" he said, raising his wine goblet toward the Dwarf. "You can rest now, old friend."
"Yes... I can now return without regrets to the halls of Lord Mandos. I do not wish to abuse his kindness by staying longer than allowed," replied the Dwarf, producing a goblet from behind his back and clinking it gently against Aldril's. "Look after them."
"I will, do not worry."
With a joyful laugh, the Dwarf vanished into the wind.
"Yes... I will look after them," whispered Aldril as he raised his gaze to the firmament. "Now rest, Balin. I hope that one day we shall meet again."