Dís resisted the urge to cough as she entered the dusty room.  The small storage room had been untouched for years, but now the space was needed to store new supplies.  Seeing as most of the items in this particular room were mementos of the line of Durin, Dís refused to allow the task of cleaning out the room to fall to anyone else. 

Looking around her, Dís felt a deep sorrow course through her body.  Once upon a time, many of these items had been displayed proudly on walls and mantles.  But as times grew darker, more and more space had been cleared for more practical uses.

Sighing in resignation, Dís shook her head and knelt down in front of one of the numerous chests.  However, as soon as she lifted the lid of the chest, her hands froze in shock.

The chest was filled with child size furs and leathers.  Looking at them, she could see that some bore Kíli’s sigil, but many bore another, one just as familiar.

With shaking hands, she pulled one of the furs to her chest.  She pressed her face to the fabric, trying to inhale any trace of leftover scent.  She closed her eyes, struggling not to lose herself in memories of a happier time.

After what seemed an eternity, she raised her head.  Angrily, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, wiping away the tears that had formed there.  Choking back a sob, Dís took a shaky breath and protectively clasped the fabric to her chest.