So you know:
Óin is 72 years old in this. In Man years, this is equivalent to 22 years old.
Glóin is 63. In Man years, this is equivalent to 19 years old.
Dwalin is 74. In Man years, this is equivalent to 23 years old.
Balin is 83. In Man years, this is equivalent to 25 years old.
Nori is 56. In Man years, this is equivalent to 17 years old.
Dori is 70. In Man years, this is equivalent to 21 years old.
Óri isn't born yet.
Bofur is 34. In Man years, this is equivalent to 10 years old.
Bifur is 67. In Man years, this is equivalent to 20 years old.
Bombur is 24. In Man years, this is equivalent to 7 years old.
Fíli isn't born yet.
Kíli isn't born yet.
Thorin is 100. In Man years, this is equivalent to 31 years old.
Dís is 86. In Man (or should that be Woman?) years, this is equivalent to 26 years old.
Yes, yes, yes. Glóin is the baby of Farin's line (Farin's his grandfather).
OCs (They aren't particularly important and will not be the main focus of this story. They're pretty much supporting characters)
Sannith - Glóin and Óin's mother. She died shortly before the story begins. She had black eyes and ash-blonde hair which she kept free. Cause of death is unknown.
Fóli - A young thief who befriends Nori and Glóin. He's got green eyes and has black hair which he keeps in a braid. He's a good guy, but there's something about him which really doesn't appeal to the kin of his friends.
Idùzhib- The mother of Nori and Dori, and later, Óri. She is the one who most suspects Fóli of being up to no good. She has silver eyes and has flaming red hair which she wears in intricate braids.
Olùmil - The second of Idùzhib's two Ones. He's quiet and likes to read to his fiance and future stepsons. He has deep blue eyes and mousy brown hair which he keeps in a ponytail and is very protective of his family.
Sannith - Khuzdul for 'Perfect Girl'
Idùzhib - Khuzdul for 'Diamond'
Olùmil - Khuzdul for 'Midnight'
Gróin and Sannith had chosen a very bad time to die, Óin thought rather crossly to himself. Then he felt guilty for thinking such a terrible thing. But when Sannith had died several months before her eldest son came of age, Óin knew that it would only be a matter of time before Gróin followed her into Mahal's Halls.
Óin missed their parents horribly. Not least because he'd inherited an absolute Balrog of a brother to try and bring up.
Glóin wasn't bad, not really, but he was developing an awful habit of spending time with people who were really Not Good. He looked older than his 62 years, with his beard that could now be plaited without looking too short and his fierce gaze. But Óin saw the innocence that still shone in those bright black eyes, he saw that his brother was still small for his age and that made him more determined than ever to keep him safe and well.
Too bad Glóin didn't share his point of view.
"Why do you fuss so?" he asked on more than one occasion.
"You know why."
"No, I don't."
"Because you're all I have left and I want to keep you safe."
Those conversations always ended the same way.
"Aye, but I am safe with him."
"That boy steals." Óin would say firmly.
"He doesn't do it to be annoying-" Glóin would try and defend.
"That is not the point. Thieves have enemies. Every second you spend with him, the higher the chance you have of being attacked and hurt." Óin would tell him. "And worse!"
"I can look after myself."
Hating the thought of getting in an argument with his brother, Óin would come in with a retort specially designed to make his sibling laugh or at least smile and then the conversation would be finished. And he'd hope against hope that he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night to find his brother sneaking in. And that hope would be dashed barely a week later and the cycle would start over.
He glared down at the empty bed. Curse brothers.
Hearing a soft gasp, he swiftly looked toward the window, just in time to see a head of flaming red hair duck down. So. He'd finally decided to return. Slowly, quietly, Óin prowled over to the still-open window and gazed out of it, breathing in the cool midnight air.
"Cold one tonight," he remarked to himself and his audience. "Be best to close this window. What do you think, brother?"
Black eyes stared balefully up at him. "There's no need for sarcasm."
"Get in here." Óin demanded. "You'll either fall and die or die of cold, and I won't be sympathetic!"
"You never are," Glóin retorted as he climbed through.
Óin scowled at him. "Now is no time for back-chat, you little shite. How many times must I tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"You know what!"
Glóin ducked his head and gave his brother an apologetic look. "I was meeting Fóli."
"Oh. You were seeing him."
"There's nothing wrong with Fóli!" Glóin said as he sat upon his bed and began tugging his boots off.
"There is nothing right with Fóli!"
"You realise this is exactly why I climb out the window, don't you?"
"Nadadith, he steals." Óin reminded him.
"Not when I'm with him."
"Maybe, but what if one day he turns to you and says, 'Would you help me raid so-and-so's home?'"
"I'd say 'no'. What kind of person d'you think I am? I'd never steal off anyone."
"Even if your friend asked you?"
"Óin! No, I wouldn't! Why would you think such a thing?"
"It can be hard to say 'no', that's all."
Succeeding in yanking off his footwear, Glóin shook his head. "I bet Adad would be alright with him."
Despite the instant hit of sadness that hit him upon mention of their adad, Óin smiled at the thought of Gróin's reaction to Fóli . "He wouldn't! He'd lop off his head and stick it on a spike."
Glóin tried not to laugh. "You needn't look so happy about it."
Óin fought a grin as he sat beside his brother. "He'd kill you and all for climbing out the window."
"You won't tell-? Oh."
Glóin sometimes forgot about Gróin's passing. It was as though his mind couldn't quite comprehend the fact that they would never again see him.
"No, I won't tell."
"I bet he knows already. He always did find out things he shouldn't have."
Óin laughed quietly. "Aye, he did." Sliding an arm around his brother's shoulders, he entwined a lock of red around his finger. "Promise me you won't try and climb out that window again."
"Will you give Fóli a fair chance?"
Óin muttered to himself. Glóin poked him. "Watch out with your violent ways!" Óin told him, grabbing his hand. "Oh, fine! If it stops you from clambering about like a giant squirrel."
"Thank you."
"Alright. Now, I've made my promise, you must keep yours. Deal?"
"Aye," Glóin agreed.
"Good. Now," Óin shook Glóin's hand and regained his distance. "Off to bed with us. It's far too late to be up and about."
He kissed his brother's forehead and left, briefly stopping to close the door. Glóin went to shut the window, pausing to look at the stars and wonder,as always, if Gróin and Sannith were up there somewhere watching them.
There's a sadly tiny amount of brotherly fics about Óin & Glóin. So, here's my offering!
Hope it was enjoyed :)
Love from
