AN: I do not own the characters created by J.R.R. Tolkien. The other characters, personalities and dialogue contained here within are solely my own and based loosely on the aforementioned author. Any plagiarism, intended or not, will be thoroughly and passionately disliked.
First Impressions
Thorín, son of Thraín, son of Thror, did not stomp. He was not some petulant child to throw tantrums when he did not get his way, or to huff out his breath when he was frustrated with a situation. No, the Crown Prince Under The Mountain was better than that, trained in the ways of etiquette and poise since birth and, while there were things that could be said about him – from his dark demeanor and stoic personality down to his lack of close friends – none could say he was unmannered enough to do such a petty thing as stomp through the halls of Erebor.
Thorín stormed.
In fact, he thought to himself as he did just that on his way from the meeting hall his father and grandfather had sent him forcibly from, he was a storm in his own right. When his mood was aggrieved and anger threatened to boil his blood, there was no force in Middle Earth that could calm him. His approach could be sensed, much the same as a coming gale – a drop in temperature, a strengthening wind and perhaps an overall foreboding that would raise the hairs on the backs of necks anywhere his path led.
So, as the Prince stormed past nobles and commoners alike, many averted their gazes and murmured a prayer to Mahal that their home withstand the tempest that was the Crown Prince Thorín, second of his name and he, despite his foul mood and barely contained temper, prayed with them.
As he ascended to the royal levels, his rage simmered with the exertion of climbing from the lowest floors to the highest. The monotonous activity of taking stair after stair allowed him a reprieve from the thoughts in his head and, while he did not stomp, his heavy footfalls quieted significantly after the first several stories were cleared. His breathing became heavier, warping the pressure in his chest from frustration to physical action and it was a relief. He climbed on, fury turned to mere annoyance with every landing he passed and, when he had reached the last one, he rested heavily against the wall, tipping his head up to gather as much air as he could into his lungs.
He waited, regaining both wits and breath, replaying his grievances for the hundredth time since he left the meeting hall. He had been "excused" yet again from the latter part of the meeting and it infuriated him. He had been hounded and pushed to attend every meeting to it's fullest, never allowed to shirk or beg off unless sickness had taken him and that had only happened once in his sixty-three years. Now, however, he was not wished there with more and more frequency and it unnerved him, to say the least. While he had reacted instantly with anger, it was worry that nagged at his heart. A deep-seeded concern that he did not understand or wish to explore.
He hefted himself off the wall and headed toward his sister's chambers, the given "reason" for his exclusion from the rest of the council meeting in the first place. His sister, the Princess Dís, would reach the ripe age of eighteen in a few short days and an opulent feast in honor of her birth date was scheduled to occur as it was every year. As the youngest and only female child of the line of Durín, she was especially cherished by the residents of the mountain. Her birth had been a wonderful blessing and, though his mother had died in the process, Dís was held with the highest regards by all. His father had informed him that his sweet sister had requested his presence and firmly suggested he take his leave to spend some time with his youngest sibling.
"She can wait until the council has adjourned," he'd said, brushing off the sudden invitation with little thought. They were discussing important matters, the business of running a kingdom and he knew his place was at his father's and grandfather's sides.
Thror had slammed his fist on the obsidian council table, roaring in a display that shocked every dwarrow present, "You will do as your father bids, Thorín!"
The prince was quelled, his embarrassment creeping over the edges of his beard as his grandsire glowered at him from the head of the table. With intense, narrowed eyes, the aged king continued with a low voice, "Do not disrespect your elders in my presence. This council can, and will, carry on without you, despite your belief otherwise."
At that, Thraín had stood and Thorín had followed suit, his father's hand on his elbow leading him from the room as if he could not manage the task himself. Once past the threshold the heavy doors had been closed at his back and he had fumed all the way to the staircase. Going over the scene in his mind again he still understood it little but was wont to nurse his pride after such a blow and did not wish to wound it further by disobeying.
As he turned the ornate handle on his sister's door, he shook his head. There was no answer to his quandary in solitude and so he strode through the door without knocking or being announced. The only one in the room was his younger brother, Frerín, who currently lounged across the whole of a plush couch that sat before the fire. His tow-headed sibling raised his eyebrows in his own surprise, barely moving to acknowledge him, "Welcome, brother. You seem...cheerful."
Thorín had no patience, "I was told my presence was required here."
Frerín gazed at him through the corners of his narrowed eyes, "And this...requirement?...has put you in such a mood?"
Thorín sighed, running a hand through onyx hair, "Being ejected from a council meeting has me...most perturbed, by all accounts."
The blonde grinned lazily, tucking a hand behind his head, "More alike vexed, from the look on your face, nadad."
Thorín glared at his brother, not wishing to sally words with him any further. Before Thorín could move to seat himself, Frerín jumped lithely from his place draped across the couch and wrapped his brother in a fierce embrace. It took a moment for Thorín to respond in kind, as he was not much for physical affection, but the warmth of his brothers arms melted his icy facade enough to allow the act to continue. Frerín pulled back and slapped Thorín heartily on the back, "It is good to see you, brother. Our meetings have become few and far between."
Thorín nodded sadly, his eyes cast down as he acknowledged that fact. He knew in his heart that he should spend more time with his siblings but there were not enough hours in the day for what he wished and wanted. His days were filled with councils and matters of state, endless grooming for the throne that was his to be his within his lifetime some how, while his younger siblings had leisure to complete studies on whatever they wished and more. He knew Dís had begun training on horseback recently, though he'd never been able to make time to visit the stables and see her at it. Frerín had completed his combat training over a month ago, on his thirtieth name-day and Thorín had yet to congratulate him on the high honors he'd received, despite that he had been at the ceremony himself.
His heart was heavy and it must have reflected in his eyes when he finally gave his brother the praise he had been unable to for so long, "It was my greatest pride, brother, seeing you become a warrior."
Frerín's signature smirk, which was as constant as his beard, faltered for a moment before returning with some force, "Took you long enough."
The comment brought a weak smile to Thorín's face and they pounded each other on the back again before Frerín leaned forward with a quizzical look on his face. Thorín watched in confusion as his brother inhaled deeply through his nose and paused, "...did you run here?"
Thorín's eyes rolled of their own accord and he brushed past a smug Frerín without an answer, muttering under his breath. He walked to the chair farthest from the door and sat heavily as the younger continued, "You are allowed to take the lift, you know."
Thorín sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose and pressing on his closed eyes simultaneously. The weight on his shoulders slid to his feet and he sunk further into the plush chair, resting his head on its padded back. He grumbled, feeling exhaustion come over him, "Being in the presence of others would not have improved my mood as much as the exercise of venturing here."
With his eyes shut, he was unable to see Frerín's brows furrow at the thought. Frerín turned casually to a side table and poured wine for them both, his look of concern vanished by the time he passed a silver goblet into Thorín's broad hands. Thorín took it with a slightly surprised thanks, tasting it carefully before drinking with a thirst. He exhaled after two mouthfuls slid down his throat and seemed to relax further, his feet stretching before him while he rolled his shoulders lightly to relieve the stress held there.
Frerín claimed the same seat on which he had lounged at Thorín's arrival, opting to sit instead, and watched his older brother unwind. It was a rare thing to see, a resting Thorín, and Frerín tried not to stare in wonder at it. After a draw of his own wine Frerín asked in a much softer tone, "And our company?"
Thorín looked to his brother, brows raised, "Come again?"
Frerín repeated himself, "Our company. Will our company be taxing on your mood, my Prince?"
Thorín could not tell if his brother was jesting and it unnerved him slightly. He thought for a moment, taking another drink before answering, "My brother's company is never a burden to me."
"And what of your sister?"
The loud question alerted the dwarrow to the entrance of their sister, her light hair spilling, damp, against her back and joy spread across her face. Frerín watched as his usually sulky brother broke into a broad, genuine grin of his own and stood to hold his arms open to the dwarfling maid.
She ran to him, a cry of "Nadad!" piercing the air and was lifted into his embrace with both parties groaning from the ferocity of it. Frerín smiled fondly on the pair – despite the forty-five years that seperated hem, Dís always had carried a special admiration for her eldest brother that went beyond the respect due a Crown Prince. She wished to be his only pride and joy but, little did she know, she had already claimed that title. Frerín could see it with every conversation, every interaction. She adored him and he, her.
It took not long for the bubbly Dís to turn her affections on her next eldest brother, his embrace just as welcoming and filled with love. She grinned between the two of them, unable to settle her excitement, "I have no guardian today AND I am able to spend time with my brothers! I did not know how this day could exceed perfect!"
Thorín tipped his head, a sly smile creeping onto his lips as he returned to his previous seat, "No guardian? It seems as if you are becoming a lady after all!"
The young maid would have none of his banter and she gave a scowl of disgust as she sat herself heavily before a chair opposite his in an unlady-like way. She haughtily ignored their tittering and smoothed her skirts as she demanded, "I am a lady, and I will thank you to remember it."
Thorín laughed for the first time in a long while. It was loud and clear and honest and his siblings could not refrain from smiling and laughing along with him. Frerín returned to his seat, doing his best to feign boredom, regardless of the grin he wore, "And so, my lovely sister, would you care to share with us why we are here?"
Her blush gave her away but she attempted an air of innocence nonetheless, "Does a Princess of Erebor require a reason to see her brothers?"
Thorín looked to Frerín, amusement and inquiry in his raised brow and the two shared a suspicious look. The blonde Prince retorted, "Aah, another scheme brought to us by our virtuous nanath?"
The young girl focused on him with a conciliatory look that may or may not have been condescending in the same instance and Thorín could barely suppress a chuckle. Her tone was soothing, "You have my word, nadar, my plotting and schemes have come to an end. You need not fear that I will try to manipulate further for I am done."
Both brothers held wary gazes, Frerín toward his simpering sister and Thorín toward his occupied brother. "What is all this talk of scheming and manipulation?" the elder Prince asked through a smile.
Frerín rolled his eyes even as he took a pull of wine, swallowing before deigning to respond, "Our most considerate sister has, for the last month, taken it upon herself to work a matchmaking betwixt your most esteemed and the noble ladies of the Mountain."
Another low and clear laugh erupted from the Crown Prince, much to his siblings' amusement. Dís glowed, beaming proudly from her seat on the floor at her older brothers even as Frerín made faces at her, pretending to be angry. She was enthralled with Thorín's laughter and felt the need to draw more from him at any expense. She had no time to do so as they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Dís jumped up with eager excitement, "She has arrived! Oh, I cannot wait any longer!"
The brothers looked to one another again as she sped toward the door. The blonde drained his glass and stood to greet the unknown newcomer but his elder did his best to disappear into his seatback, wishing earnestly that he could meld into the shadows, if not the stone wall behind him. He drank hastily, doing his best to look anywhere but the room's entrance. He turned at neither his sister's squeal of delight, which could possibly have been the guests name,nor his brother's shocked laughter and stared stonily into the flames of the fireplace.
What finally drew him from himself was over hearing Frerín's utter lack of decorum, "You wore that dress just for me, did you not?"
Thorín considered scolding his brother for his impropriety when he was beaten to it by their guest, "Oh, of course! Because every wardrobe choice I make is based on the opinion you would hold of me, my Prince."
Honeyed sarcasm dripped from her already velvet voice and Thorín could not resist his admiration of her gall in the face of Frerín's flirting. His brother laughed in response, "Obviously. As it should be."
While it was clear to him he was the only one who had not been previously introduced to their guest he was still content in his shadowed indifference. However, Dís, it seemed, would not allow such a thing. He could hear, hushed though it was, her urging to the additional company, "Come, come! Over here, there is another to meet!"
With a resigned sigh, he set down his now empty cup and forced himself from his seat. As he reluctantly turned to face this new challenge of his patience, he caught sight of his tiny sister dragging an older dwarrowdam hurriedly between the furniture of her sitting room. While the woman had apparent difficulty following the dwarfling, she managed to keep her feet around the obstacles, even if just barely.
Dís bobbed on her toes, her delicate hand entwined with the older dam's and, once the latter had steadied herself, the Princess proudly stated, "Thorín, son of Thraín, please allow me to introduce Thríva Heartweaver."
P.S. - First chapter in a long line of chapters. I've had this rolling around in my head for months so I'm only just getting around to posting this one and it's just to test the waters of interest. R&R peeps! PM me with any questions or suggestions and, if I missed a typo, PLEASE let me know. I'm super self-conscious about those things. :)
3 Lystan
