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He remembered the screams, the burning smell of bodies, the ash that filled his mouth. He remembered it all. He remembered how his wives golden copper hair turned a nasty brown with ash and blood. He remembered his daughters blank ghostly eyes and gaping mouth in a silent scream. The blood all over their floor, the hands dragging him away, his own voice going horse with his own screaming.
Bofur elbowed him in the ribs, he was having memory visions again. His cousins offered him a kind knowing smile, the smiles no longer held the pity that they once did. He didn't need their pity, he needed to have his baby girl back in his arms, he needed to feel the warmth of his wife at his side. He needed to join them.
Shaking his head from his past, he knew that his family would be upset with him for joining them early. His wife would have that frown of her's and his daughter would cry and puff up in anger. They wouldn't want him to dream of their deaths every night or see his daughter be cleaved in half every morning. His wife would be stuck between slapping him and trying to comfort his screams whenever he saw his wife's head be cut from her body, or the slimy hand's on her thighs as she silently cried. He wasn't at the spaceport any longer, no, he was living with a kindly little human lad who was going to help them reclaim their home, just like his family would have liked.
He didn't pay attention when they were first ushered into the big house, so much like the one his family owned. The colors and atmosphere so warm and inviting, the home soft and sweet with its smell. His wife would praise the owner endlessly and they would compare design ideas, his daughter would shyly ask about exploring and would bring him back every interesting item she found. He ignored the conflict that happened before him in favor of inspecting a small toy hanging from a coat rack, the yellowed stuffed animal being held from the metal hooks by a baby blue strap. His daughter would have loved something like that, the creature's ears long and soft, its eyes beady but kind. He choked on his own breath seeing his daughter's hands stroke the fur in wonder, turning to him to ask if she could have something like that, his wife giving her a scolding for being so greedy. A sob left his throat as the visions vanished.
Bofur lead him over to the area where they would keep watch, his cousin distracting him with annoying questions about their peacekeeper's house. Everything was soft, including the rectangular piece of fluff they were inspecting. The distressed cry ripping him from his thoughts about how much his wife would have liked the color.
He turned to see the soft little thing, the man small, like his wife. The golden curls framing a kind face with sparkling green eyes with golden flecks. His voice was caught in his throat at the man's posture, shy but sweet and innocent. The lips trembling slightly with uncertainty as the human took in their weapons. Fear.
He staggered forward faster than he thought, his hands shaking with fear. He saw the goblins raiding the port, his home burning, his wife and child taken from his so cruelly. He saw the dark eyes focusing on the trembling man before him, he saw his daughter in the man's posture, and his wife's kindness in the man's looks. He screamed as he fell to the floor, clutching his head injury. A solid reminder of everything he lost, the ax buried deep into his speech center, leaving him grunting the most basic words of their language.
He gargled the names of his family, the soft hands massaging away the pain and memories. His wife's soft hands on his skin, and his daughter's sweet voice telling him it was alright. He looked the man in the eye.
“Daughter.” He growled out. Bofur laughed behind him, he knew that the man was no lass. But he couldn't get the thought out of his head, the man looked like the reincarnation of his dead family. He grunted back harshly at his cousin, Bofur was a good sort, but didn't know when to shut the voice hole, “Quiet!”
He offered his hand, a vow of protection. He wouldn't let the goblins take this kind being before him. Eyes so knowing of the cruelness of life, but so kind. As he rubbed his nose over the knuckles of the small man he heard his wife and daughter whisper praises to him. His baby girl was happy about having an older sibling and his wife cooing over the small man, saying that the lad should get more to eat, her special meat pie would fix their boy up just fine. A sob escaped his throat as he pulled back, he would protect his boy.
“I will not fail again, I will never fail you this time,” He growled back, his shoulders slumping as his boy's shoulders stiffened. He would keep his family safe this time, he wouldn't fail twice, “Promise.”
He watched as Bofur translated some of the words he couldn't understand, the boy turned to him and said yes. He nearly swept up his small lad and huddled the boy with furs and armor. He watched as his son's title was brought into question after Bofur had gave the proper greeting to Thorin's. The wizard called his lad such things freely.
“I will rip out his beard and shove it down his throat.” He snarled with rage. His daughter nodding beside him, and his wife already ruffled up trying to find her weapon. Her sword wasn't here, it was at the smith's, he remembered because they didn't have it when the port was attacked.
Watching as his boy pushed past, he followed as Bofur gave a cry about furniture. He released a breath when he found his boy curling into bed with Thorin, their king would keep his boy safe. He made his way back down stairs, his vision swimming with his daughter skipping and hopping down the stairs. As he sat down for watch, Bofur at his back he was happy not to see his family ripped from his that night. No, he was his shy little boy leading his daughter around their new home, his wife's fingers twining with his as they watched their family play.
He was happy not so hear his wife's and daughter's screams in his ears, or to see their blood flow like a small river. He nearly choked with pride when the vision of his daughter and son took hands and skipped around with childish joy. Tightening his hands on his spear, he watched as his daughter brought him the small toy, his son saying it was alright for her to have it. The ax itched again, his hands patting at the scar, the inside of his skull itched. He was fine with that. He didn't see his family being raped and murdered before his eyes, a little pain was fine.