Chapter Two
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not meant to violate the rights held by New Line, Tolkien Enterprises, nor any other licensee, nor is any disrespect intended. Mostly belongs to Tolkien, with the exception of some of my own characters (Glorendil, etc)
Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the long wait! I want to thank all of you for the great reviews you gave me! I'm glad you enjoyed, I certainly enjoyed reading all of your great suggestions! This idea was given to me by a Stardurin1217, so thanks! Remember, I'm still taking suggestions and requests in, and I put a pin on every suggestion I got. I rarely say 'never', so keep that in mind. Legolas and Tauriel have caught my attention ... *wink* ENJOY!
"Hush! You'll get us caught, you fat oaf!"
"Me? You're the one who's going to get us caught, with your clumsy feet!" Thorin argued.
His younger brother, Frerin, ignored him, just scowling a bit and continuing to hurry on. Thorin hurried after him, worried that he had hurt his feelings. Tauriel was his brother, and he woud never hurt his feelings on purpose. And besides, he would probably get in trouble with Grandfather or Father if he did so.
"Frerin, I-"
Frerin turned away with a huff, but Thorin caught the mischievous glint in his eyes that showed that he wasn't truly angry. Thorin tackled him to the forest ground, crying out loud, "You had me worried for a moment!"
Frerin spat out some grass and muttered, "This behaviour is unacceptable for a prince." He pointed to grass streaks stained in Thorin's tunic. "Father and Grandfather and Mother will not be pleased."
Thorin merely grumbled, knowing that his brother was correct. But he wouldn't admit to it. Never.
"You just had to shout, didn't you? Now Ada will hear, or maybe even Rotur. And it'll be all your fault," Frerin complained.
"My fault?" Thorin sputtered, then hurried after him. "Oh, no, you pesky little dwarf. If Rotur catches us, then I'll be blaming you. Besides, this was your idea in the beginning."
"And you agreed to it." Frerin jumped over a log, and Thorin leaped over it after him. "The Crown Prince makes the final decision."
"No. The King does," Thorin argued, just to spite his brother.
"You know what I mean!" Frerin hissed. He snorted and ducked under a branch. "Fat, clumsy oaf."
Wild little bear, Thorin thought irritably, but didn't dare say it out loud. He only called him that name when he was feeling less tense, and Thrain or Thror called him that during ... during a spanking. Thorin shuddered.
A spanking.
He hated spankings, especially when Thrain swatted him. There was just something about Thrain's hands and fingers; something that made it feel as if each swat bit and stung and set a fire onto his backside. Thorin landed on the ground, the breath knocked out of him.
Frerin snorted and helped him up none too gently. "As a prince you should be more attentive and formal," he scolded.
"And as my younger brother, you should be more respectful," Thorin retorted. Frerin swiped at him and caught the side of his head. "Ow," he complained.
"You deserved that." Frerin turned and strode on.
Thorin frowned as he carefully hurried after him. Frerin was becoming more and more forward, not the shy little dwarf Thorin once knew him to be. It seemed he was growing too comfortable and too spoiled under Grandfather's constant petting and gentleness. King Thror, Thorin's grandfather, seemed to favour Frerin over Thorin. But Thrain petted Thorin and spoiled him more, so he supposed that they were equal.
"Frerin, don't you think we should return? Rotur has already probably told Father or Grandfather and we'll get in a bunch of trouble."
"What? Already?"
"Aye," Thorin answered. "Grandfather will be looking for us by now." It was a lie; Thorin knew that Thror was in a meeting right now.
Apparently Frerin knew as well, for he said, "No, brother, you lie. The King is in a meeting right now." He frowned at him. "You know that as well as I do. Are you chickening out?"
"No!" Thorin protested. "I just don't want to get into any more trouble than we already are in."
"We're already in trouble, it doesn't matter now," Frerin said dismissively. "Besides, we've played hooky before."
"Aye, and we've been caught every time."
Frerin turned to glare at him again. "Are you going to continue to argue with me or are you coming? Even if you don't go, Thorin, I will. Alone."
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Thorin sighed. He shot his little brother a glare. "But we're returning before nightfall."
But Frerin had already ran ahead.
"Where have you been, my son?"
Thorin spun around. Thrain stepped out of the shadows of the Crown Prince's chamber, merely raising an eyebrow and staring at him sternly. Very, very sternly. Thorin gulped. His father was vexed, and a vexed father was never good news.
"I am sorry, Father," Thorin said, choosing his words carefully. "Frerin and I were ... out."
"And getting into mischief, as usual?"
Thorin dropped his gaze. He wouldn't dare lie to his father; besides, it seemed Thrain knew what they had done anyway.
Thrain strode forward, and Thorin felt his body stiffen involuntarily. Thrain's gaze softened a bit, and he spread his arms, saying quietly, "Come here, my golden kit."
Hesitantly, Thorin allowed Thrain to give him a gentle hug. "We're sorry, Father," Thorin murmured at last.
"You cannot apologize for Frerin," Thrain responded, moving back and sitting on Thorin's bed. "I shall be visiting him after I am done with you."
"Done with me?" Thorin echoed with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this." And Thrain tugged Thorin over his lap, firmly but gently. He dragged down the prince's breeches and pulled up his shirt slightly. "You, my little prince-" SWAT! -"have played hooky more than enough."
"Ahhh! Father!" Thorin protested, squirming. His face was hot and burning in embarrassment. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Father!"
"Hush," Thrain said sternly. "You deserve this."
"It wasn't my fault!" Thorin argued, gasping and flinching again as another hard swat landed without hesitation. "It was Frerin's idea! He wanted to! He didn't like what we were learning today! OWW!"
"Ah, but you agreed to his plan, my golden kit," Thrain responded. He paused, resting his hand on Thorin's bottom and bending over to meet his son's eyes. "If you had refused to go along with him, then we wouldn't be in this position right now."
Thorin gave a slight whimper, then whispered, "But Frerin-"
"I know. Frerin has a way with words. He stings at your pride and prods and pokes you until you agree finally. That is his mischievous streak, little kit. But you are older." Thrain paused, then swatted down again. "You are older, Thorin. He needs guidance, and I cannot give him constant attention. He demands attention and love, not only from me, but from you as well."
"I-I ..."
"Shhh," Thrain whispered. "I know. Just listen."
At Thorin's small nod, he continued.
"Frerin often gets what he wants. You love your brother and you want to make him happy, and I understand that. But I need you to be strong and firm, my little golden one. He needs you to be strong and firm. For him."
Thorin was quiet before he whispered, "Ohhhhh! Oh! S-sorry, Father!"
Thrain ended the spanking with a last solid swat, then slowly rubbed his son's back and now hot backside. "You can do that for me, can't you?" he said quietly.
Thorin nodded. He wiped an arm across his face and murmured, "Aye, Father."
Thrain gave him a kind smile and gave him a warm hug before striding away to deal with Frerin.
"Frerin, stop sulking. It is your fault that you got into trouble," Thorin whispered, rolling his eyes.
Frerin seemed to pout even more, sinking deeper into his chair as he sighed, deeply, once more. Thorin rolled his eyes again. "You've been in a bad mood since yesterday," he whispered. "If you do not fix your attitude, Father and Grandfather will not be pleased."
"I don't care about them," Frerin muttered. He kicked the leg of his chair grumpily. "Oh, brother! I'd rather be outside, hunting and fighting instead of learning ... this." He gestured to the parchment in front of him.
"All dwarves need to know history," Thorin answered.
"I don't want to!" Frerin hissed back. "It makes my head hurt."
CRACK!
"Ack!" Frerin and Thorin both yelped.
Rotur glowered at them with a scowl. "Listen up, dwarflings!" he scolded. "Must I inform your Father that you have not been paying attention, my Princes?"
Thorin scowled down at his desk. "Apologies," he and his brother grumbled out at last. It was not the most polite tone, yet Rotur gave a curt nod and turned away before beginning to read from the scroll out loud to them once more. Thorin stared down at his desk, only half-listening.
"We got into trouble," Frerin murmured.
"Aye," Thorin grumbled. "Rotur's ears are sharp, Frerin. Hush."
"Hush? Me?" Frerin sputtered quietly. "Nay, sir. You, my brother, need to shut your insolent mouth before I-"
"Frerin! Enough!" Rotur barked. He glowered down at him sternly. "Raise your voice one more time, insolent little dwarfling, and I shall take you over my knee without hesitation."
"You can't do that!" Frerin sputtered. "Only King Thror and Father can-" He stopped, reddening. Flushing, he looked down at the floor.
Rotur narrowed his eyes. "You get my point, dwarfling. It is as your older brother has said. Hush. And Thorin, do not provoke him, and do stop that horrifying smirking. You have nothing to pleased about, sir."
Now it was Thorin's time to flush and look down.
"Thorin?"
"Aye?" Thorin looked up from where he was jotting down some notes for an essay Rotur had assigned them.
"I'm bored." Frerin was on Thorin's bed on his back. He was throwing a balled-up piece of parchment up and down.
"I can see that," Thorin muttered. He turned back to his parchment. "If you're bored, get started on your essay as well."
"Nooooooo," Frerin moaned. "No more History, Thorin! Please!"
Thorin snorted. He set his quill down and headed over to his brother. He snatched up the balled-up parchment and tossed it away from Frerin. "Hey!" Frerin scowled.
Thorin rolled his eyes before he proceeded to rummage through his drawers for some socks.
"Thorin?"
"What?" Thorin growled. Frerin was beginning to annoy him.
"Thorin, can we go out on an adventure?"
Thorin rolled his eyes again. He threw a pair of socks at Frerin, saying, "Those are yours. Mother must have mixed them up again."
Frerin caught it and began to absently put it on his feet. "Thorin!" he whined. "Please!" He sat up and met Thorin's exasperated gaze. "Please! Father won't mind!"
"It's Grandfather who will," Thorin corrected. He put on his own socks and strode over to his desk again.
"Grandfather?" Frerin scoffed and Thorin turned to his little brother in surprise. "Grandfather's opinion doesn't matter when Father allows us to do something."
Thorin scowled at him. "Is that what you truly think, little brother?"
Frerin looked down, looking slightly ashamed of his disrespectful words to Thror. Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Well? Is that what you think?"
"No!" Frerin snapped. "I don't know why I said that." At Thorin's disbelieving snort, he looked up miserably. "Please, Thorin. Just once." He directed his gaze outside to the starry sky. "I thought you enjoyed sitting with me and watching the stars."
"I do," Thorin answered promptly. "But I'm not sure if Father will be happy if we go out without permission."
Frerin turned his pleading gaze on Thorin again, and Thorin felt himeslf beginning to waver. "Brother, please," Frerin pleaded. "Just once. It's bene such a long time since we last watched the stars." A glint entered Frerin's eyes. "And since when have you been so cowardly?"
Cowardly? Thorin let out a soft growl, and almost retorted with, Fine, then! Let's go! Then he remembered his Father's words during the most recent spanking Thrain had given him:
He demands attention and love, not only from me, but from you as well.
And what exactly did that mean? Thorin hated it when Thrain spoke in riddles. He supposed it meant something like 'don't give in to your little brother's pleadings if it means putting yourselves in danger'. "No, Frerin, don't you call me a coward," Thorin said quietly. "I'm being reasonable."
"Reasonable?" Frerin snorted. He stared at Thorin challengingly. "You've changed, brother. I never thought I would feel like this." Frerin turned and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Thorin grimaced.
"And - oh, Thorin! That stunt! That glorius, beautiful stunt!"
"I know. You've told me," Thorin muttered.
"But - but, oh! How I wish to learn it myself!" Frerin exclaimed.
"No, Frerin. You won't," Thorin said.
Frerin shot him an injured look. "You believe that I can't do it?"
Thorin rolled his eyes. "It's not that, Frerin. But it's dangerous."
"Dwalin did it!" Frerin argued.
"He only did it because it was necessary," Thorin retorted. "He could have died if he didn't. But you won't be doing it. You never will."
Frerin huffed. "You're being unfair, you know," he informed.
"I know."
"You can't just tell me what I can and can't do."
"I can."
"Who says so?" Frerin challenged.
Thorin stared back. "Father does."
"Father?" Frerin blinked. "You've discussed me with Father? Without me there?"
"We did not intend to in the first place," Thorin replied as he ran his gaze along the training field. "But our discussion drifted toward you."
"And what did you talk about concerning me?" Frerin asked.
Thorin glanced at him. Frerin looked wary. "'Tis none of your concern, brother," Thorin replied. "And you shan't do that stunt."
Frerin scowled at him. Then he raised his huge and round eyes to Thorin, obviously pleading him silently. Thorin looked away, telling himself, It's for the best. It's like Father said. He needs me to be firm with him; he's expecting it from me.
"Come on, little brother," Thorin said quietly, throwing an arm around his sulking brother's shoulders. "Let's go spar, hmm? Take that stunt out of your mind."
"All right," Frerin sighed.
"Where are you going, Frerin?"
Frerin turned. His older brother, Thorin, was watching him with suspicion. Frerin felt a flash of pain to see that his brother didn't trust him, but he merely shrugged and said, "I just want to be alone for a few moments."
Thorin raised an eyebrow like Thrain did sometimes, then murmured, "Heed my words well, Frerin. If I find that you did the stunt, then you'll regret it the moment I set my eyes upon you."
Frerin felt a flash of fury as his brother ordered him about, but he didn't show it and said, "All right."
"Return by nightfall or you know Grandfather won't be happy."
"I know."
Frerin watched Thorin turn and walk away, then he spun around and raced off to the larger training field where he knew Dwalin would be. Sure enough, the tough dwarf with the Mohawk was there, grunting as he pounded a dummy to shreds.
"Dwalin," Frerin said after the dwarf finished his exercise.
Dwalin spun around, chest heaving and he wiped the sweat from his brow. "What do you want, Frerin," he growled in a cool voice.
Frerin moved closer, though he eyed Dwalin's axe a bit warily. "I want to ask you a favour."
"A favour?" Dwalin began to clean up the dummy, or at least, what remained of it. "I don't like favours."
"You'll like this one," Frerin pressed. I hope, he added silently.
"Well?" Dwalin sighed as Frerin paused. "Spit it out, Frerin. I don't have all day."
Biting back a sharp retort, Frerin paused again before saying, "You know that stunt you did yesterday when we slayed the Orcs?"
Dwalin hummed and gave a curt nod.
"I want you to teach me how to do it."
Dwalin stopped. "What?" he growled, straightening.
Frerin gulped, trying his best not to show his fear of the tough warrior. "I want to learn that stunt you did."
Dwalin eyed him for a few moments and Frerin squirmed. "You do know how hard it is?"
Frerin nodded.
"How difficult and tiring it is."
"I know, Dwalin, I truly do," Frerin pleaded. "But, please, teach me. I want to know how to do it."
"Thorin will not be happy."
"I know."
"Thorin will not approve. Neither will Balin. You know what they will say," Dwalin said in a low tone. "I don't fancy a burning backside, you know."
Frerin scoffed. "Thorin? Thorin would never spank me for something like this." He rolled his eyes. "Please, Dwalin. Teach me how."
Dwalin muttered some foul curses under his breath about stubborn dwarflings, then growled, "Very well. Let's head over to the forest."
"Thank you!" Frerin gasped. He looked back toward the entrance of Erebor. I'm sorry, Thorin, he thought, I don't mean to be so disrespectful to you. But you're too protective. You have to let me decide for myself.
"Are you coming, Frerin?" Dwalin called.
"Yes!" Frerin answered hurriedly, darting over to the older dwarf.
Dwalin nodded and said, "Let's go."
The two strode into the forest, Dwalin snatching up two wooden swords as he did so. Handing one to Frerin, he said gruffly, "Here."
Frerin took the sword from the older warrior. When they arrived in a clearing, Dwalin walked forward, swinging his sword lazily. "All right. Watch carefully, or you might get hurt." At Frerin's nod, he continued. "This is a very dangerous battle technique. But it can also be useful. Only use this move if it's an emergency. Now, watch carefully."
Frerin followed Dwalin's every movement, gasping in awe when Dwalin ran forward and did a quick flip backward, slashing at an invisible enemy. The slash was quick enough to slice off the enemy's head in a clean move. Landing on his feet, Dwalin looked at Frerin.
"It's useful when an enemy is aiming for your head," Dwalin explained.
Frerin nodded. "I want to try it," he said firmly.
Dwalin hesitated. "I still have a bad feeling about this," he muttered. "Thorin will not be happy."
"Never mind Thorin," Frerin said dismissively. "Come on, Dwalin, please, teach me! You promised you would!" He sent a pleading look toward Dwalin.
"Don't blame me if you get into trouble," Dwalin muttered. "All right. Now copy my moves."
"Dwalin! Behind you!" Balin yelled.
Dwalin spun around, eyes wide. An orc was aiming for his head with a triumphant snarl. With a gasp, Balin began to run forward, knowing that he would be too late to save his brother, but trying anyway. "NO! DWALIN!" he heard Thorin roar.
Balin felt a flash of grief at the thought of his brother dying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thorin begin to run forward, yelling to Anar, a well-trained young warrior, to help his own little brother, while Frerin snarled that he didn't need help.
Everything seemed to slow down. Balin watched, horrified, as the axe came closer to his brother's head. Then, Dwalin flipped back, slashing at the Orc with his own axe and slicing its head cleanly off. Gasping with relief and fear, Balin snatched Dwalin to him, grasping him in a tight hug.
"Oh, brother," Balin whispered, ignoring the battle cries and yells as Dwalin hugged him back. "Thank Mahal! Thank Mahal that Father taught you that move! Thank Mahal that you begged him even when he refused!"
"Balin!"
Balin turned. Thorin gestured toward the last dying remains of the Orcs. "Let's finish them off," the young prince said. "We've won this."
"You ready for this, brother?" Balin murmured, glancing at Dwalin.
A nasty sneer appeared upon Dwalin's face. "Of course."
The two brothers charged.
Balin woke with a gasp, sweating and trembling. His brother had been close to death a few days ago ... Shaking, he got himself a glass of water and gulped it down thirstily. Opening the door and stepping out, he knocked on the door on the opposite side of his. "Dwalin?" he called quietly. "Dwalin, I'm coming in."
There was no reply.
Thinking that Dwalin was just ignoring him, as usual, Balin entered the room. To his surprise, his little brother wasn't there. "Dwalin?" He frowned, then exited the room, seeing no reason to linger any longer as his brother wasn't there.
"Balin?"
Balin turned. Thorin strode up to him, and Balin was surprised to see the young prince looking anxious. "Have you seen Frerin?" Thorin asked. Balin shook his head. Thorin sighed. "I've been looking for him," he explained. "We sparred for a bit, then we had an argument about a battle stunt he wanted to-" Thorin stopped, face turning dark. "He wouldn't," he growled. "Frerin wouldn't."
"Thorin?" Balin said, puzzled by the prince's behaviour.
Thorin sighed. "Come with me, Balin, and I'll explain everything. I have a feeling that your brother is in this as well."
"Come on, Frerin. That one was close, I'm sure you can do it this time."
Frerin grinned at Dwalin, knowing that the warrior usually didn't give much praise to others. In fact, Dwalin wasn't that friendly with him at all, just with Thorin, but it seemed he tried to be civil to Frerin. Frerin began to run forward, then snapped his back backwards, as he had done before, but pain cracked in his spine and he fell to the ground, crying out loud.
"NO! FRERIN!"
Frerin sputtered when Thorin rushed up, eyes wide. "Frerin! Talk to me!" he begged.
"I-I-" Frerin gasped, then murmured, "I'm okay, Thorin. Just ... just scratched."
"Just scratched?" Thorin scolded, helping Frerin sit up and he began to pull off Frerin's royal clothing, much to his little brother's shock.
"Thorin!" he argued as Thorin examined him, pulling off his top. Thankfully, he left on Frerin's breeches. "I'm fine! I guess I was just tired from all the exercise."
"You shouldn't have been doing that stunt," Thorin growled, tossing Frerin his top, obviously deciding that his brother was indeed fine, just bruised and scratched like Frerin had said. "I warned you. You're going to regret what you did, Frerin."
"Thorin?"
Thorin and Frerin both turned.
Balin had looped an arm around a shaking Dwalin's shoulders. "Thorin, we're going to return back to the kingdom, all right?"
"Aye," Thorin answered. He shot a fierce glare at Frerin. "I need to have a discussion with my little brother."
Frerin felt a shiver go up his still slightly-aching spine at the tone of Thorin's voice.
"As do I," Balin answered in a low voice. "I'm not exactly happy with my own brother." He turned to a pale and quiet Dwalin. "Come, brother. We have something to discuss, don't we?"
"Aye," Dwalin muttered.
As the two brothers turned away, Thorin stood absolutely still. Frerin shivered again. When Balin and Dwalin were out of their sight, Thorin said, "Come on, little brother. I want to talk to you."
And he turned and headed deeper into the forest.
Frerin grimaced. What trouble had he landed himself in this time?
Thorin was livid.
Absolutely livid.
To think that his brother had dared to disobey him ... Well, he hadn't exactly hoped that Frerin would just follow along with his orders like a good little dwarfling. After all, he and his brother were more like friends than one being an authority figure to another.
But the time was now to be stern with his brother.
Thorin still felt numb as he remembered how easily Frerin could have snapped his spine back much too far ... how he would have landed on the ground, limp and lifeless ... He stopped and glanced around. A log was placed conveniently, just the right size and height. Trees and bushes surrounded them. They would provide plenty of cover.
"Thorin?"
Thorin looked back, pausing. "Aye?"
"Er ..." Frerin hesitated. "J-just how angry are you?" he asked timidly.
Thorin felt a flash of anger. "Absolutely livid," he answered coldly.
He saw guilt flash in his little brother's eyes and remorse as well, and he thought, Good. He'll be sorry by the time I finish with him.
"I'm sorry," Frerin offered in a slightly petulant tone. "I didn't mean to."
"You did mean to, Frerin," Thorin answered as he swept off his cloak, draping it on the log. "Why else would you have done it?"
A shrug.
"That's not a good enough answer, little brother. You know that as well as I do." Thorin leveled a hard stare at Frerin, who swallowed hard and looked down. "Father or Grandfather wouldn't accept that answer."
"I know," Frerin answered sullenly.
Thorin gave a short nod. After a while, Frerin broke the silence by raising his eyes and murmuring, "Thorin? I really am sorry."
"I know you are," Thorin answered, his anger disappearing little by little. "Thank you for apologizing, though." Then he set down his weapons, his knives and sword. "Come on, little brother. We both know what I'm going to do."
Frerin's breathing was harsh and ragged, staring uncertainly at Thorin. Thorin snapped his fingers at his brother, knowing how much he hated it whenever Thror or Thrain clicked their fingers at him. And sure enough, defiance flared in Frerin's eyes, mixed with a sulky scowl.
"Come here," Thorin ordered.
"No."
Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say 'no' to me?" It wasn't often that Frerin right out refused to obey his brother whenever he was in trouble, but when he did, things got interesting.
"I did," Frerin answered in a straightforward and defiant way. He scowled at Thorin. "You can't order me around, Thorin," he said. "We're equals. We're friends, aren't we?"
"Aye, we are," Thorin agreed. "But we are also brothers."
Frerin huffed. "Thorin, I know what you're going to do," he muttered. "You've done it to me before, and my poor self couldn't sit properly for two days straight!"
Thorin felt the ends on his lips twitch up slightly, but he quickly sniffed it away. It wouldn't do for him to just burst out laughing. The last time Thorin had spanked Frerin was quite a long time ago. Most of the time they got into mischief together, but sometimes Frerin would seek out trouble and ask for a spanking from his older brother. And Thorin was more than glad to accept the deed.
"You deserved it," Thorin answered lightly, then clicked his fingers again and pointed to the spot in front of him. "Come, Frerin."
Frerin stared at him again for a few moments, then said, "No. I won't."
Thorin stood up from where he was sitting on the log. "You've just made this harder," Thorin muttered, reaching forward to grasp his brother's arm and drag him to the log.
"No! Wait! Thorin!" Frerin cried out.
Thorin paused. "What is it?"
"I ... I ... I can come by myself!" Frerin exclaimed finally, his face flushing a bit at the thought of being dragged over like a puny little dwarfling. "Please, Thorin!"
Thorin hesitated for a few seconds, before stepping back smoothly and saying quietly, "Then come, brother. I shall trust you with this one." And he seated himself on the log again.
Frerin began to slowly come forward, swallowing hard. He arrived beside Thorin, and when Thorin gestured for him to lay himself across his knees, Frerin began to slowly lower himself.
Then he bucked upwards.
Thorin saw a flash of white as he fell backward from the log. Gasping and grimacing a bit, he rubbed his chin when Frerin had landed a good punch as well. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark, but it still stung mightily. Frerin was standing in front of him in a defensive position, breathing hard again.
"So we shall have to resort to this again, hmm, little boy?" Thorin murmured, dusting himself off. Then he snapped his fingers again, just to vex his little brother even more. "Then come, brother."
Frerin scowled at Thorin's words: So we shall have to resort to this again, hmm, little boy? Then his insolent brother had clicked his fingers again just to spite him!
With a snarl lingering on his lips, Frerin rushed forward, throwing a good punch at Thorin, snarling even more when his brother dodged.
Something told him to fight back, something at the back of his mind. The voice told him that he wanted more from his brother, he wanted more attention.
Thorin rarely praised him.
Thorin's praise, Thorin's attention, Thorin's love. That was all he wanted. Frerin thought back to a memory that still often brought him sadness and happiness at the same time.
"Thorin! Wait for me!" Frerin cried, running after his older brother. In his hands, he clutched a wooden sword. He saw Thorin's scowl on his face, the look that clearly said, I don't want you here.
As Frerin neared, he heard one of his brother's friends say, "I told you not to bring him here."
It was Ralfric, a rather nasty dwarfling in Frerin's opinion. His heart broke even more when Thorin muttered, "I told him not to follow me."
Frerin pretended not to hear, and said in a beaming voice, "Thorin? Thorin, Father gave me my first wooden sword. Can you come with me to show Grandfather? Please?"
Snickers came from the other dwarflings, and Frerin felt his cheeks burn a bit as one of them muttered a rather foul insult in Khuzdul.
"Frerin, I told you that I'm going out to play with my friends," Thorin said in an exasperated voice. "Maybe later, all right?"
"All right," Frerin said, disappointed.
As he turned away, he heard Thorin mutter, "I wish he would leave me alone. I don't like him."
Frerin's eyes had filled with silent tears and he quickly walked away before the others could tease him for that as well.
The next day, Thorin had come to him and apologized sincerely for his nasty words directed to his brother, and Frerin had accepted the apology graciously.
After that incident, they rarely fought or argued, but when they did, it became heated. But all Frerin wanted was Thorin's attention, Thorin's praise, Thorin's love. To have those three things would be the best in the world, and if Thorin praised him, just for one entire day, then his heart would probably burst with happiness.
It seemed that he could rarely make Thorin smile or make his brother proud of him. In fact, Frerin often wondered if Thorin sometimes hated him.
But one day, one simple discussion had banished those dark thoughts forever.
It had been after one particularly hard spanking from Grandfather after causing mischief in Dale. Both princes were on Thorin's bed, sniffling and on their stomachs as they rested.
"Thorin?"
"Aye?"
"Do you hate me?" Frerin asked absently.
"What?!"
Frerin jumped, shocked at his brother's response. Thorin's gaze was full of horror and pain. "No, Frerin! I don't hate you! I could never hate you!"
"Thorin?"
"Aye, little brother?"
"Do you ... d-do you lo-"
"I love you very much, little bro-"
"OW!"
"Stop dreaming!" Thorin said, smirking. "Am I not being entertaining enough?"
Frerin scowled. He was on his backside; Thorin had flipped him over his head as he had been 'dreaming', as Thorin had said. Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Well, brother? Are we going to continue fighting?"
Frerin wanted to stand up, he really did. But that simple memory had turned all of the fight and defiance in Frerin into jelly. He couldn't move. He was shaking.
"Very well, then," Thorin said. Then he picked Frerin up. "I suppose that it is time for our 'discussion'."
Thorin smacked down the moment his brother's breeches were pulled down and his bottom bared. Frerin cried out loudly, as he always did during a spanking, unlike Thorin.
Thorin felt the need to hush up. His little brother became slightly ... frantic if he saw his older brother upset and crying, so most of the time Frerin went before him.
And his little brother certainly had no thoughts on keeping quiet just to soothe the pain that grew in Thorin's heart every time a spank would land. But Thorin didn't mind; he knew how hard it was to keep quiet during a spanking.
"OWWWW! Thorin! Ow!" Frerin cried out.
Thorin swatted down hard one last time before settling down to frequent, but lighter than before, spanks. Frerin's bottom was already rosy. Perhaps it was from Father spanking him after they had played hooky.
"OW! AHHHHH! Thorin! S-STOP! Plea-OWW! THORIN!"
"Hush up, little brother," Thorin scolded. He moved his brother closer to himself, then swung his right leg over Frerin's legs that kicking much harder than it was necessary.
"N-NOO!" Frerin argued. "T-Thorin! Please! D-don't pin down m-my legs!"
"I accept sincere kicks, little brother," Thorin said as he resumed spanking. "But kicking out in anger and in an unnecessary way is not acceptable."
"AHHHHHHHHHHH! S-SORRY! SORRYY!"
"Your apologies would carry more weight if you didn't bellow them at me, you know," Thorin remarked meaningfully.
"S-sorry!"
"Sorry indeed," Thorin sighed. He paused as Frerin began to cry, rubbing his brother's back in a way he knew would be soothing. "Tell me what you're sorry for, Frerin. Tell me what naughty deed you did to land yourself over your older brother's lap."
Frerin moaned at the words that came out of Thorin's mouth. He buried his head beneath his arms, whimpering when Thorin began to spank again, saying, "Very well, then. I shall wait."
And he did indeed wait. Frerin's sobs began to deepen as the spanking carried on longer, Thorin swatting steadily and Frerin crying and hiccoughing.
"AHHHHHHHH!" Frerin howled as Thorin began to move his hand down to spank the tender undercurve. "AHHHHHHHHHHH! THORIN! TH-THORIN! OWWW!"
"This sweet little undercurve does sting mightily, does it not?" Thorin asked quietly. "Well? Answer me."
"OWWWW! A-AYE, THOR'IN! AHH!"
"Then tell me what you are sorry for, and I shall stop spanking here."
"AHHHHHH! S-SORRY FOR DISOBEYING Y-YOU! S-SORRY FOR ... SORRY F-F-FOR BE-BEING NAUGHTY!"
"Naughty indeed," Thorin murmured, pausing the spanking. He smoothed his hand over his little brother's hot backside, listening to Frerin's weeping. "Shhh, Frerin," he murmured. "It shall be all right. You were naughty indeed, but now you shall pay for the consequences, and then your slate shall be clean."
Frerin hiccoughed and gave a quick little nod. Thorin smiled. "Then tell me, little brother," he said, and when Frerin began to weep harder again, he said in a soothing voice, "Shhhh. It is all right. Do not fret, little brother. I am very proud of you. You are being so brave right now."
Frerin shuddered and let out a small, "Th-thank y-you."
Thorin smiled again. "You are very welcome, little brother." He bent down and when Frerin turned his head, Thorin affectionately swept his loose hair away from his face and pressed a small kiss onto Frerin's forehead. He saw tears fill Frerin's eyes again, and wiped them away with his thumbs, murmuring loving statements to his little brother.
"O-Ohhhhh! Thorin! S-so sorry f-for ... for being s-stupid - AHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Stupid? Nay, little brother. My little brother is never stupid. Foolish, perhaps. Naughty, maybe. But never stupid. Understand, little one?" Thorin said sternly.
"Y-Yesss."
"Now, one last question, little brother," Thorin said quietly. "Why did you disobey me? Why did you do this naughty deed?" And he began spanking again.
Frerin burst into deep sobs, and Thorin stretched out his body, allowing Frerin to kick. They were almost done anyway; they were quickly reaching Frerin's breaking point.
"AHHHHHHHH! THORIN! P-PLEASE! NO MORRE!"
"A bit more, yes," Thorin replied. "But don't worry. We're almost done. When you tell me the truth, I'll stop spanking."
It worked.
Frerin bit through his sobs, "Ohhhhhh! T-Thorin! Wanted y-your atten-ten-ten-tion. I-I-" He paused, letting out a few more sobs before continuing. "I ... Y-you nev-never p-praise me! Y-your never proud of m-me! W-wanted to prove t-t-to you th-that I could b-be as good as D-Dwa'lin."
Thorin was horrified. Scooping up his little brother and hugging him tightly, he whispered, "Oh, Frerin! Why did you tell me? Why didn't you ask me?"
Of course, Thorin knew the answer: stubborn Durin pride. He kissed his brother's forehead again, murmuring, "Oh, Frerin! I am so proud of you. I always was proud of you. You don't have to prove anything to me. I love you, Frerin. I always did."
"P-promise?" Frerin whispered, sniffling.
"I promise," Thorin whispered. Feeling a few tears stream down his cheeks, he leaned forward and touched his forehead with his brother's. It was possibly the most affection he had ever shown his brother.
And Thorin didn't mind.
Neither did Frerin.
After all, he had Thorin's praise, Thorin's attention, and Thorin's love.
End of Chapter Two
Author's Note: I hope it was good! It became longer than I thought it would, and the plot twisted a bit here and there, but I'm not sure how good it was! As long as everyone is happy, I'm happy! Please take the time to review! I'm still accepting ideas and suggestions! ;)
