Chapter Two: Company
The road to Erebor was hardly one of the longest journeys Fanrell had undertaken in his many years, but it just went to prove how slow time passed when you were feeling miserable. His horse seemed to delight in taking slow and measured steps, the road seemed to eternally stretch before him, no matter how long the company to Erebor seemed to travelled along it, the path never seemed to shrink...Fanrell blamed the dwarves, it was all because of their short legs. This was taking twice as long as it should.
He normally enjoyed riding threw his beloved forest, blue eyes taking in the wonder of nature, the blessings that the tree's granted those who cared for them and kept them safe, the sun that played threw the leaves, casting dappled light on the leaf littered floor of oranges and yellows and reds. The sound of the streams and rivers as they gurgled in their banks, knotted and laced with the greedy roots of the nearby tree's who relished the plentiful water. He had spent hours on patrols with Legolas attempting to mimic the calls of birds that flitted threw the trees and animals that rustled around in the leaf littler, granted the only one that had ever had much talent for had been the cawing of a crow, the ugly sound had never failed to have his blonde companion offering him water, "How terrible! Your many admirers must weep nighty for the siren sound of your singing voice to return!" the Prince would say. The fond memory had a soft smile paint itself onto his pale lips for a little while.
Things were going to be very different from now on, mountains where of course just as much a part of the natural world as the trees that he had grown up in, but that was not why he was going to hate it there. Elves liked the open air, the natural sounds of the forest called to them like a lullaby, what could Fanrell expect to hear in his new rocky home? The hammers of smiths making their wares, the sound of rocks scraping against rocks as the miners looked for more commodities to pull from the earth and sell to the highest bidder. A structure of natural greatness hollowed out and stripped bare for profit.
A raucous cry from one of the dwarves broke him from his thoughts and the smile that had slowly been fading with every thought finally vanished all together. He looked around to see one of the guards throwing a small sack of coins to another with a hearty laugh. He wasn't even outside the forest yet and he was already wishing he was back at home, fires of Mordor he needed to grow a spine about this. He cast another look at the dwarves beside him and urged his horse forward a little ways so that he was in front of them, he didn't need to be reminded that he was married by being glued to the man's side all the time.
It was fair to say that Fanrell's mood was not very well hidden from the party around him. Thorin had been forced to change places with Balin, at the older dwarf behest, because the grey haired dwarf had been afraid that one more irritated look from his "bride" might well have incited the Prince of the Lonely Mountain to violence. The resentment between the two was abundantly clear and if something was not done to ease the growing tension then their wedding night might well end in a brawl.
As the older Dwarf sat on his pony considering some way to get the two newly weds to at least be civil to each other the beautiful tree lined roads of the Greenwood fell away to the rolling fields that lay beyond it. and the elf a little ways ahead of them gave a slow realise of breath as his eyes looked over the horizon. It was a beautiful view, especially today when the sun was just starting to dip behind the towering bulk of the Lonely Mountain, the light almost seemed to shatter off the rocky surface and cascade down onto the valleys and hills, the fields and little crops of rock they had yet to pass. Balin gave a little smile and urged his lazy pony onwards, there was still a bit of light in the day yet before they would stop and make camp for the night, a little time yet to lay some kind of plan to keep the peace until they at least reached Erebor.
The dwarf watched the young elf's back as he thought threw all the problems this royal match might bring to bare fruit. One of which was already ripening before his eyes, the one he had told the king would come the moment they had spotted that carefully worded clause from the Elven King. He had tried his best to persuade the mighty Dwarf Lord not to be so cruel but even now he could hear that booming voice calling across time
"That pointy eared excuse for a King thinks that he can manipulate his way out of rendering aid to our people?" Thror had boomed in his great annoyance when he had read over the parchment. "I think not! If he wishes to play by these rules then there shall reciprocations on his own head, rather than ours. There shall always be an elf in Erebor!" The quill had been snatched up and the King had carefully started wording the response to the clause on a spare bit of parchment while Balin had tried his best to reason with the man.
"My King might I suggest that we simply return it and ask that the wording be changed to make it clearer, must we really play this game with the elves and sink to their level?" He sighed when the King continued to write without pause "Think of your son's bride."
"What of him?" Thror had asked waving his hand and correcting a few of the phrases in his response "He has nothing to do with this other then as an extra bond of alliance. He is gaining a strong husband, a good home, food and station that he is accustomed to, I see no reason for the Elfling to complain."
Balin had sighed again and leaned on the table close to the King and tried again to point out a glaringly obvious flaw in the spiteful little trickery.
"He will swiftly grow to resent not only this house but the people in it, including the strong husband he is getting on his wedding day. It will cause a discord and sour his relationship with Prince Thorin, they will come to hate each other in the end and the marriage will break apart. Hardly a stable bond between peoples when the married parties cannot stand the sight of each other"
The King of course had not listened, he had added the new clause with the backing of the rest of his council, Balin had been forced to stand back and watch as the ghastly business had been concluded. That was what it was about after all, business, unfortunate that two lives had been dragged into the midst of it.
Thorin was as stone-like as always, he didn't even move his head when he heard the sound escape from his bride at the beautiful scenery was laid out before them as they came to the end of the forest. Even the thought of his "bride" had him bristle internally and fight back a snort. All the elf had done since they had left the city was throw looks at him. Looks that suggested he was made of something the Ward had recently scraped off the bottom of his boots.
Thorin had to admit that when he had first seen his intended he had been a little awe struck. Elves were beautiful creatures there was no doubting it, though of course Dwarves had their own aesthetics and their own idea's of what was classed as beautiful, but it was hard to deny that the star lovers were a race all others found lovely to behold.
Fanrell had seemed no different to all the other fair skinned beautiful creatures that drifted around the city, with all that inherent grace that made the dwarves feel like great beasts in their stumpy metal boots. His white hair, pale skin and silver decked body had been a sight to behold, something Thorin had not been expecting to be lead down the isle towards him. However the moment the wedding had finished and the contract had been signed he had watched that graceful star child turn colder and darker as the moments passed by until that look he had cast in Thorin's direction, when he had climbed onto his horse.
Thorin had not expected to be married off to the Ward of the Greenwood, it was not that he was not attracted to males, he knew that men and women had a different appeal and he had spent a few night in the arms of some male dwarves that had caught his eye. However he had always thought he would be settled down with a nice dwarvish woman of good standing, as his father had done, have a family, children of his own to be next in line to the thrown. In short to live out his days in comfort and happiness, not stuck to the side of a snotty, arrogant slender irritation that did nothing but hold contempt for him.
Thorin hadn't given much thought to what married life to an elf would be like. In fact until a few days before the wedding itself he had pushed it from his mind, mostly because he thought that both his father and grandfather would give up on the idea. He had never even met his intended, only been told by the council that he was considered fair and graceful and would be a good match for him. He had started wondering what the elven Ward had been told of him and weather the elf was hoping the same as he was. When it had become apparent that the wedding was going ahead questions of what would be expected of him had plagued his night's driving off sleep to buzz around him like fireflies. Would they sleep in separate rooms or even in different areas of Erebor all together? Would they only be expected to even see each other at functions and meetings with the elves? What would the Ward be doing while he was attending to his own duties?
He looked ahead to Fanrell's back and sighed, if the comment Balin had made about them sharing a bed was indeed correct he assumed they would be seeing a lot of each other, more than likely more than he was comfortable with. It certainly answered a lot of his questions about his married life. Soon they would be making camp and he would have to share a tent with the man, and a bedroll too and considering it was their wedding night...If they were to sleep as partners then surely they were also expected to...consummate the marriage. That thought sent a shiver along his spine. After all there was more to that sort of thing than looks alone and he was not feeling in the spirit to try and make love to a man that looked at him like mud.
"Balin?" he caught the older dwarf's attention by giving his shoulder a shake, he wouldn't be overly surprised if the other dwarf was asleep on his horse as he seemed to have the ability of sleeping anywhere down to an art.
"Aye, lad?" the advisor turned his head to look at the prince.
"What else do you know about him?" He nodded in the direction of the Elf's back as his body moved gracefully with the rhythm of the horse. Thorin wasn't sure why exactly but even that seemed to irk him.
Balin gave a sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He might be very close to the Prince and could get away without the bowing and scraping and title calling but there was still high regard and respect for his position."And why are you asking me?"
"Who else could I ask? You are on my Grandfathers council." Thorin said with his own exasperated sigh.
Balin lost the battle against the muscles in his eyes and they rolled. The Prince was an intelligent young dwarf, but it seemed that occasionally he, like his grandfather, could missed the Mumakil in the room.
"How about asking him?" he hooked a thumb in the direction of the elf in question. "You are married Thorin you will actually have to talk to each other when the occasion calls for it."
Thorin was about to say something when there was a call from the fount of the caravan. Seems that they were to camp here for the night. He gave Balin a look that meant to tell him they would talk about this later but the older dwarf simply brushed it off and pointed meaningfully at Fanrell's back as the graceful creature dismounted with the lightest of landings. How on earth had he been married off to a man that irritated him by literally doing anything at all?!
Even though Fanrell was the Ward of the Greenwood, and therefore considered among royalty, he and his adoptive brother had always been close with the Silven elves, and on patrol they always did their fair share of setting up the camp. Thorin had completely ignored him and headed over to his family after dismounting, it seemed that he had no more interest in seeing if the elf needed any help with anything.
Fanrell wandered around the Dwarf camp on his own, nobody really seemed to take much notice of him, a nod now and then but mostly the dwarves got on with their work. Feeling like he was not pulling any weight at all he took to offering to help with things or just doing jobs he seen that needed to be done that nobody seemed to have spotted.
However when he asked he was polity thanked but told that it was all being handled, nothing to concern himself with. and each and every time he started a job he thought people wouldn't notice him doing a dwarf would hurry over and take it on himself, thankng the elf for alerting them to the mistake and to rest up. After the fifth time this had occurred the elf just stood and sighed, bowed his head respectfully to the dwarf that had taken over the task and then moved away to stand around awkwardly, leaning back against a large rock and watching the dwarves hurrying about their tasks.
A disgruntled whinny to his left made him turn his head, his horse was standing like a white soldier among the ponies the dwarves rode, they were penned in a makeshift corral, wicker fencing, so they didn't wander off in the middle of the night. Fanrell hated to see the things stood there bored out of there minds just as he was...and they were so very out of the way. The Elf looked around to see if there was anyone watching him, and found he was being more or less ignored just as before, out of the way, not getting under anyone's feet, oh the irony. He gave a sly smile and started casually making his way over to the penned creatures, nobody batted and eyelid. Perfect.
His ears had picked up a stream not to far away, he had no doubt that the pony's would fair far better after having a nice cool drink and a graze on the lush water-fed grass than they would standing around packed together like fish in a barrel. Reaching up he ran his hand down the nose of the dapple horse his brother had bought him a year or two ago, then he opened the latch on the gate and let it swing open. The ponies as was their natural instinct simply stayed together in a loose heard till Fanrell took the reigns of his horse and started quietly leading them away toward the stream hidden by the rocks around their camp, the herding instinct causing them to follow quietly after each other, one by one disappearing behind the rocks.
One of the dwarves nearest to the penned ponies looked up when he thought he thought he heard a few whinnies and almost yelled out when he saw the last of their beasts swishing tails vanishing away behind the rocks, but a hand on his shoulder silenced him, causing him to simply turn around to come face to face with a smiling Balin.
"I wouldn't cause a fuss, Lad." the Dwarf said patting the dwarf on the back, "They are in good hands, best to just get on with your job."
The stream was beautiful, it started at a tiny waterfall cascading down a few taller rocks and into a small pool. Fanrell counted his elvish sight among his most loved of blessings, from his vantage point on one of the huge boulders around the pool he could watch the river meandering it's way threw banks surrounded by lush green grass. His leather boots beside him and his pants rolled up to his knees, the elf let his pale feet dangle in the cold, soothing water.
Fanrell's horse, Ellond, and his pony companions were enjoying a little freedom of their own, drinking from the stream, grazing on the greenery around the river banks some were even playing together running here and there chasing each other and acting like wild things once more. Though if they wandered a little too far Ellond would run off to heard them back to the rest of the group, it made Fanrell chuckle a little to see the great horse acting like a worried parent when the little one's strayed.
If Fanrell closed his eyes he could just about fool himself that he was home, or on patrol with his group, his brother would be tending the fire, Eruestan and Lathron would be savaging for food, mushrooms and wild berries and Limdur would be hunting rabbits for stew. He could almost taste it now if he though about it hard enough.
"Hello there, excuse me, Prince Fanrell."
The call shattered the fragile spell and the elf turned in his seat to see the dwarf with the long two pronged beard standing in the grass behind him, his hands neatly behind his back and a friendly smile on his face. When he had managed to sneak up on him?
"I'm a Ward not a Prince, Sir." Fanrell said politely as he pulled his feet from the cold soothing pool and swung around to let them dry on the rock where the dying rays of the sun warmed them. "Are you the one tasked with taking care of the ponies?" Was he being robbed of yet another job he had managed to content himself with?
"No, no...you're doing a fine job, and begging your pardon, but you are married to Prince Thorin so in my reckoning that also makes you a Prince." The Dwarf chuckled to himself and walked a little closer, "Might I take a seat? My bones are not at strong as my mind I am afraid."
"Of course." Fanrell scooted over a little to give the Dwarf some more room to plant himself down. The smaller male climbing up the stone like a mountain goat...and considering the beard Fanrell had to fight back a smile at how fitting the animal comparison was to the dwarf.
"Thank you." Once he was settled down he gave the Prince a seated bow "Balin, son of Fundin, at your service."
"I am sure this is redundant seeing as you already know my name but in honour of the ceremony of the thing-" He stood and gave a dignified bow in return to the dwarf "Fanrell, Ward of the Greenwood, at yours." he sat back down and straightened his clothing a little.
"I was wondering if we might talk." Balin said with a little chuckle, he rather liked the young elf, he had some spirit.
"We are talking now, Master Balin," Fanrell pointed out.
"That we are, Laddie, that we are." Balin gave Fanrell a look that made the elf feel that he was about to get a lecture of some sort. "It's rather apparent that you're not very happy and I wanted to make sure everything is aright in that wee head of yourn." His hidden question was met with silence "I know this treaty has been harsh to you, making you leave your home was inevitable but the hindrances that have been put on your visits must have been a hard blow."
Fanrell nodded curtly, he had understood that he would have to live in Erebor and though it had been a hard thought to wrap his head around he had reasoned with himself that he would be free to go home any time he needed to, see the people he loved, attended feasts and parties. That was the major comfort that he had derived from the fact he would be leaving.
"I cannot say that you shouldn't be hurt or angered by the new clause, that is your right and nobody can ask you to just accept it." the dwarf continued "I only ask you one thing, that you do not hold your husband responsible." the elf turned his head to look at the smaller male with a raised eyebrow. "Thorin knew nothing of the Kings plan's for you. If he had I am sure that he might have had something to say about it"
"I have not said that I blame him for anything." Fanrell said defensively.
"You have not needed to use your words, Prince Fanrell, your actions and your looks have been more than enough to crack his dwarvish pride." Balin said sternly when the elf became defensive, "You may not love him, he may not be all that you dreamed or hoped for but he is just as much a victim of this marriage as you are." He tried to soften his words, he didn't mean to pass blame on either of them but nor did feel that Fanrell's behaviour warranted defence.
This comment too was met with silence, the elf was looking over the field were the ponies played like children, but the set of his pale lips told the dwarf he had hit a chored somewhere, hopefully it would be reverberating in the young man's mind, working it's magic.
"I will come and collect you when the food is ready." Balin said patting the leather clad knee nearest to him and picking himself up off the rock and heading away back to the camp, happy in the knowledge that he might have planted a seed that would keep the problems at bay for now.
When Thorin came out of his grandfathers tent for the meal he was met with an unusual sight, the elf was busy herding all the ponies, one at a time, back to the corral they had been stationed in. He seemed to be counting them as they appeared from behind a large rock. He rose a single eyebrow but before he could walk over and say anything about it, his father and grandfather came out of the grand tent and started pushing him over to the fire where there was a great amount of meat set on trays and even more roasting over the fire.
Throin took a seat and noticed that there was a pillow next to him, he presumed for his bride to take a seat on. Wonderful, a whole meal spent in the company of someone that couldn't stop throwing dagger filled looks at him.
"Where is our Elvish bride?" boomed Thror. It was something about being King, Thorin had always assumed, that had changed his grandfather's voice from a normal volume to one that now echoed off near mountains and caused small avalanches. "Fanrell, where are you lad?"
Throin was about to tell his grandfather where he had last seen the slender irritant when said elf appeared in the crowd and made his graceful way over to Thorin's side. "I am here, my King, pardon my lateness." He then proceeded to remove the cushion and throw it to Balin, who caught it with and chuckle "For your poor bones, Master Balin." he folded himself down onto the ground beside Thorin and offered him a small smile, barley a twitch of his lips "Forgive me, my husband."
The Dwarf Prince was rather taken by surprise, the elf had certainly changed his tune in the few hours it had taken to set up the camp. He didn't get a chance to dwell on it however as his Grandfather was talking and when that voice spoke you had little choice but to listen.
"Not at all, not at all. No cushion? Goodness I thought elves too skinny to have the natural padding." the King chuckled in good sport. "Well then let the meal begin!"
"A little louder grandfather I don't think the elves back in the greenwood heard you clearly." Thorin muttered under his breath sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it a bit to try and stop the ringing.
"Oh I don't know...that dwarf over there didn't seem to hear him" came a smooth and quiet voice from his side. Fanrell was leaning towards him slightly and pointing to a guard that looked to have fallen asleep leaning on his spear.
Was that an actually a real smile on the elf's face? Gold under the mountain it was. It actually made a smile pull at the edges of Thorin's lips as well despite his best efforts The dwarf tucked into the trays of meat and bread that were being passed around. When he had passed the third, tray laden with some kind of meat, to Fanrell he caught and odd look on the elf's face.
"Everything alright?" He felt a bite of irritation coming back, what was the food not good enough for him or something?
Fanrell passed the tray on without taking anything from it with a smile to the dwarf on his other side him and then looked around to his husband and after a second shook his head. "No, nothing wrong...I was just wondering if there was anything...green," he had so far only taken some salted pork and a bread roll. "I am not used to a heavily meat diet." He said breaking open the roll and putting a little bit into his mouth.
Throin actually had to think about that, he had noticed at his short stay in the Greenwood there had been an awful lot of vegetable's at each meal along with the meat and the bread and the cheese. In fact over half of the food had seemed to be plant material.
"It doesn't travel very well." He explained as he started pulling apart a chicken breast, taking strips off the ribs. "Mostly we carry or hunt meat for journeys but I promise there are vegetables in the mountain."
"I suppose I am just used to travelling in the forest." Fanrell said as he pulled some of the fluffy centre of the roll out of the crusty shell and wrapped a thin slice of the salted pork around it before popping it into his mouth. "There are normally things like mushrooms and the like growing everywhere if you know where to look and wild herbs, like garlic."
The rest of the meal passed under a relatively good mood, Fanrell soon found out that if you wanted to eat when you lived with dwarves that you had to get your food as fast as possible or you didn't get any at all. This was not just because the dwarves themselves seemed to eat a great deal in a very short space of time but because when there was singing and dancing and general merriment, food seemed to change from sustenance into a projectile weapon. More than once he had found himself ducking to avoid an errant chicken or turkey legbone and at one point was almost covered in hard boiled egg had Thorin not grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged his head down. If nothing else it was an experience.
After the meal a brawl broke out among some of the guards and soon bags of money were being thrown around as bets were taken on who would be left standing at the end of it all. At an Elvish party this would have been considered a travesty, but here even the King and the royal family were tossing sums of money around joining in on the betting and later Fanrell was surprised to learn that one of the combatants was Thorin's cousin, Dain and he was the victor after a few breaks for Ale mid match. His opponents where left laying around, groaning nursing bruised foreheads.
It seemed to the elf that dwarves were much freer in their merriment and the way in which they celebrated than the elves were. Elves were far more refined and controlled in their displays, their music more melody and beauty than the catchy tunes that the dwarves came out with, Elvish dance was more about skill and choreography unlike the way the dwarves flung themselves about. Fanrell watched it all with interest, drawing the conclusion that although it was different it didn't making it a lower kind of enjoyment, at one point he even found his foot tapping and head bobbing along to some of the catchier tunes.
It was late that night when the King decreed that it was time for the watch to begin and for everyone else to go to bed. Both Thorin and Fanrell seemed to stiffen up as the same thought had struck them...Oh no...it's time. Thorin was the first to unfreeze himself from his spot, he offered a hand to Fanrell who after a brief hesitation took it, pulling himself up from his cross legged positions on the ground.
Together the newly weds made their way, under the watchful eyes of the assembled dwarves, to their tent. Thorin was a perfect gentleman and pulled back the flap for his bride. Fanrell slipped inside in a less than graceful manner, in his nervousness he forgot to duck creating an awkward scene when his face almost met the side of the tent, he had to step back and bend in order to get inside.
The tent was beautifully decorated, there were lamps dotted around, resting on anything solid so as to illuminate the canvas house with soft yellow light. Fanrell noticed the bed and carefully avoided it as he stepped over the soft plump mattress covered in pillows and fur throws. When he heard Thorin enter the tent and the flap flop closed he felt that awkwardness again rising.
So in order to avoid actually having to talk to the dwarf he had married, for just a few more minuets, he moved over to his trunk. Kneeling in front of it he shifted one of the candle lamps from off the lid and set is one the floor, opening the lacquered wooden box to fish out some looser clothing. The silence in the tent was thick and heavy with everything the was. Just. Not. Being. Said. Thank you very much. He found what he was looking for and pulled out his hairbrush a loose fitting shirt and some half length loose linen pants before closing the box back up.
Thorin was standing stiffly by the door, watching him with those lake blue eyes, he seemed to be struggling with saying something. He, like Fanrell, wished to avoid associating with the bed at all costs, including looking at it. Maybe he was thinking that if he didn't look at it, it didn't exists. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, much as Balin had done back by the river. Fanrell used his clothing chest as a seat and started to upbraided his hair, pulling it over one shoulder to brush it, looking expectantly at the dwarf.
"Look I have...I...well we... we don't have to..." Watching Thorin stutter and try to faultily snatch at words was surprisingly sweet to the elf, and also rather calming on his nerves, it showed that at least when it came to this they were both in the same boat. "I can sleep on the floor." The dwarf finished clearing his throat again.
"You don't have to do that." Fanrell said passing the brush threw his currently less than silky strands "Elves do not sleep as dwarves and men do, it is more akin to mediation we can even do it while walking." Was that a hit of nervousness in his voice? "I can sit here all night, it isn't a problem."
That seemed to stump the dwarf a little as he gave Fanrell the strangest look, he assumed that it was not all that strange elves did still need to rest their bodies which was why they did have beds I which to 'sleep' when they needed to.
"That would be uncomfortable surely, I will take the floor-"
"I am not a woman, Thorin." Fanrell interrupted with a little bite of irritation in his voice "If it makes you feel any better we shall both stay on the bed. Just because two people share a space to sleep dose not automatically mean that they will share in...nocturnal rituals." Because he couldn't bring himself to say sex.
The dwarf looked as though he was about to argue but seemed to decide against it after all and deflated somewhat."Agreed."
The elf continued brushing his hair slowly, counting strokes in his head while the silence ballooned anew between them. He hated the feel of an awkward silence, he was generally the first to break them when he was at home, the air just filling with all that dead sound put his teeth on edge.
Thorin, was still hanging around the door like he didn't know where to put himself. He was never normally so hesitant but then again this was a position he had never found himself in before. Sharing a bed with another so that you didn't freeze if you were caught outside in winter was one thing, there was no time for awkward questions or strained politeness, here there was an irritated elf and all the time in the world to stand around like a lost sheep.
He soon seemed to snap out of it though when a yawn made him stretch. That bed was suddenly looking very inviting, considering how he had barley slept for a few days now. Thorin didn't let much get in the way of his sleep when he could help it so he just started undressing. He was not ashamed of his body and he reasoned that seeing as he and Fanrell would be living in the same room, there would come a time when they would have to see each other unclothed and he had had enough of walking on egg shells if he was perfectly honest.
Getting himself out of his heavy top clothing Thorin pulled out the pants he slept in. Just pants, no shirt, he didn't see the point really, sleeping in the mountain was a tricky thing, it was always hot thanks to the furnices and the forges so going to bed even on what were considered cold nights with more clothes than you needed caused restlessness. As he undressed he found himself wondering if he would even be able to sleep with a stranger in the bed next to him, he was known for tossing and turning a lot in his constant need to find a comfortable spot.
When he turned around after pulling on his sleeping pants he was greeted by the site of a tall pale slender elf's back wearing nothing at all. He would have liked to think himself a gentleman but he couldn't help looking him up and down.
"Turn back around Thorin." Fanrell's calm voiced snapped him out of his assessment.
"It's not that impressive a view, you shouldn't flatter yourself," Thorin said but he turned around anyway.
Fanrell folded his arms and looked round once he pulled the loose shirt over his lithe chest. "Then you wouldn't have been staring."
Thorin chuckled and crossed his arms over his barrelled chest turning back and lookiing him up and down, trying not to laugh at the get up "That's what you ware to bed?." and then he lost the battle to hold in the comment that had first come to mind "My sister wares something similar."
There was silence for a moment and then "You're an ass." but there was a hint of amusement in there all the same and the elf climbed into the bed and started trying to settle into a good position in which to rest himself, placing his hands flat on his belly so as to measure his breathing.
Thorin lingered at the side of the bed for a while but soon climbed in, pulling some of the fur blankets over himself and coughed in order to gain the elf's attention, it seemed to fall on deaf ears, The Dwarf Prince seemed to have a very unfair proportion of the bed to his partner. When his subtle clearing of the throat didn't seem to grab Fanrell's attention he lost his patience, already strained as it was, "Do you mind moving up? You the size of a pit prop how on earth can you need so much room?" He complained.
"Because I have arms and legs and I need my space." the Elf said calmly but did indeed move over so that the Dwarf had a little more room to lay down more comfortably.
Thorin slowly and carefully turned onto his side his back facing the elf next to him. He thought with all the things buzzing around in his head there would be no way that he could sleep any time soon and yet within moments he had fallen into an uneasy sleep, but sleep it was still.
When he had dosed off Fanrell turned his head to looked at the sleeping Dwarf. He was still angry, still upset, he was trapped here but Balin's words had echoed deeply inside him. "but he is as much a victim of this marriage as you are..."
"Good night Thorin..."