Chapter 2
Haunting II
oOo
The strategy meeting had been in session since the first light of day. Now, it was noon and not only was it the air in the tent close to suffocating him, but Thráin was also sure that, had he the mind to try, he would be able to cut the tension in it with his battleaxe. The problem was not that he was unused to these kind of meetings. It were not the long-winded explanations for each proposed move or the endless discussions of strategy, tactics and backup plans that exhausted him. It was the utter inability to cooperate, as shown by his fellow clan heads that drove the exiled King to frustration.
Especially Heptar, the leader of the Ironfist Clan, had so far been unable to agree with any plan Thráin proposed. Indeed, he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in shooting down each of the King's ideas. Had Heptar at least made suggestions of his own, Thráin might have been able to work with him. As it was, they had been in this tent for more than five hours, standing around the same round table, starring at the same map, moving around the same little stone dwarrows and orcs and still had nothing to show for it. They had been going around in circles for days. Now, the battle was less than a day away and their strategy was little more than 'overwhelm them with numbers'. That, Thráin knew, was ludicrous as they had no way to know how many Orcs and Goblins they would be facing.
To some degree, Thráin could understand the other dwarf's hostility. The feud between their clans went back many generations and he himself would have preferred not to ask the Ironfists for assistance. It had been a hard blow to his pride to admit that they needed the help. Desperation and grief had driven him and he was not so delusional that he could not see it. For his people were starving and homeless while their ancestrally home was inhabited by the disgusting vermin that had murdered his father.
And then here was this dwarf, all but ruining their chances of victory with his stubbornness over a feud so old that no one knew why it even existed anymore.
It was more than frustrating and Thráin felt seconds away from throttling the stone-headed dwarf when the flaps of the tent were suddenly thrown wide open.
"What is it now?" he growled under his breath before looking up. This had better be life threateningly important or someone was going to lose a braid. Didn't these people know that the council was not to be disturbed?
It was Thorin. The dwarf that dared to disturb the meeting was his own son.
His son, who was now walking towards the table with a confidence in his stride that Thráin had never seen in him before. Thorin's hand was resting lightly on the pommel of his sword and the look on this face was one of unshakable determination. He seemed ignorant of the partially curious, partially angry looks the rest of the council send him.
When his son reached the table he bowed once in greeting. "My King."
"Thorin," while Thráin's voice was dark with anger, he was also wondering what on Middle Earth could be so important that Thorin would risk his fury. "I dearly hope you have a reason for this most untimely interruption. You know you are not to disturb the council's meetings."
Thorin inclined his head respectfully before he answered. It seemed like not all his etiquette lessons had been a waste of time. "Yes, I am aware and I do apologize for the intrusion."
Thráin had to commend his son's calm under the scrutiny of himself and his fellow leaders if nothing else. Never in his life had Thorin been timid, that was true. Still, just yesterday Thráin had seen him chase after his brother and hitting him with a frog of all things. Today Thorin stood before him with a bearing more fit for a King then for a Dwarfling of only just five decades, be he a Prince or not.
"Well then, out with it!", said Thráin impatiently. He truly did not have the time for this and the fact that his fellow clan-heads where watching the exchange closely did not help either.
"I need to know something regarding tomorrow's battle." Thráin noticed how his son kept his expression carefully blank when he finally answered.
"You will be briefed this evening, at the same time as everybody else, as you well know." He waved his hand in a gesture that should have been a clear dismissal. No matter what this was about, it would have to wait. Besides, he could not give information about a battle strategy that did not yet exist even if he wanted to.
"True, father, but I want to know where you are planning to station Frerin?" Thorin asked. Thráin looked up from the map once more. The impertinence was grating on his already short nerves and he could feel his anger rising slowly.
"Thorin, you knew the answer to this question before you came here. He will be leading his own unit, as is royal custom. Same as you. Now, please, stop wasting the council's valuable time." Thráin said, irritation tainting his voice. That his sons would lead their own units was one of the few things that were clear and decided about this whole mess. Thorin knew so, as did Frerin. They had known before they had even departed from the Dunlands.
Thráin had already made to turn back to the map on the table, when he was interrupted once more. „No, I don't believe he will."
He turned around, this time to openly stare at his son who had dared show such impudence in the face of not only his King but the entire Ruling Council of the Dwarrows. And he wasn't the only one. All the Dwarrows in the tent, even normally unshakable Fundin, were now looking at Thráin's son with varying degrees of surprise and shock on their faces. Thorin had never before dared to deify his King so openly. Why he was suddenly doing this now, one day before their great battle was beyond them.
"I think I might have misheard. Would you care to repeat that, Thorin?"
"I said; Frerin will not be leading his own unit." Thorin stated once more. His son's voice was calm but his eyes were practically burning into Thráin's. "He will in fact be in my unit, fighting by my side." Where I can protect him. Thorin hadn't said it aloud but he might as well have shouted it in his face.
So that was it. Thorin was worried and Thráin couldn't even blame him of it, not truly. Not when he himself was.
"Thorin, you know it is expected of the Princes to lead. Frerin will be no exception." Thráin ground out.
"I have found that I care little for tradition if it could cost us my brother's life." Thorin exclaimed. His voice still dangerously calm.
"Thorin." Thráin sighed. "You have trained with your brother for many years. Are you telling me that you do not trust your brother's skills in battle?"
"Do not imply that I don't trust my brother!" Thorin snarled. It was the first time that he raised his voice during this conversation and also the first time his true emotions could be seen through his carefully blank exterior. He is afraid, Thráin realized with a start as Thorin went on. He truly is afraid.
"I trust my brother's skills near as much as I trust my own but I do not trust the orcs. He is only just forty-eight and I..."
Thráin held up a hand to silence him and cut of what certainly would have been an impressive tirade of words. It seemed he had been wrong. This could not wait. Best sort it out immediately. "My dear friends and councilmen if you would excuse me for a moment." He did not wait for an answer as he took Thorin by the forearm and dragged him out of the tent. They went on for a short time until they reached a relatively quiet area where Thráin felt like they could talk openly.
"Now, I would very much like for you to tell me what this is all about."
oOo
This was not what Thorin had expected. Granted, he did not know what he had expected when he had stormed away from Frerin and into the council's tent, adamant to save his brother.
"Father..."
"No, Thorin. Speak now or don't speak at all but if you want me to even consider leaving Frerin under your command then you will have to convince me that there is a reason. And best do it fast, because I need to go back to that tent before they start threatening each other with axes. Again."
His father's voice was stern but not cold and it was what gave Thorin the hope that there was indeed a chance to sway him, a chance to save his little brother's life. But how? He couldn't very tell the truth. They didn't have the time, not to mention that Thráin would most likely call him crazy and dismiss him. No, the whole truth would not work, but maybe...
He took a deep breath to gather his thought, then he sighed and began to speak.
"I... I know this valley better then I know most other places on Middle Earth. You and I both know that I have never set foot in this place before and yet I could draw you a map of this place, more detailed then the one currently laying in that tent."
"Thorin." Thráin interrupted.
"Please, just let me speak. You can tell me that I'm crazy when I done." Thráin looked at him with narrow eyes and nodded once. "Go on."
"As I said, I have never set foot in this valley but I have been here before. For many years I have been dreaming of this very place. Of Orcs and Dwarrows locked in combat, dying left and right. I've been dreaming of a white Orc on a white Warg and of splintering shields and oaken branches. And I have dreamed of my brother dying. I dreamed of Frerin as I held him in my arms and I have heard him whisper his last words a hundred times and more. Tonight I had this dream again, and it seemed more real then, than it ever had before. When I realized that the place of my dream is where we are now, I could not just stand there and do nothing. I know how this sounds, believe me, but I can't take the risk. Not with Frerin. Not even for you."
Thorin was trembling. He suddenly felt like a child again, younger even then his current body was. A huge part of his youth he had spent trying to make his father proud of him. This now could very well break the already strained relationship he had had with his father at this point. But it would be worth it, if it let him keep Frerin by his side. Frerin had to survive tomorrow, Thorin would worry about everything else after.
And then suddenly there was no breath left in his lungs because his father was hugging him and the last time that had happened was more than two centuries ago for Thorin. "You stupid Dwarfling! Why did you never say?"
"Adad..."
"You could have spoken to me of this. No, in fact, you should have spoken to me of this. Why does it take a war for you to open your mouth and..." He trailed of. "You inherited my bad habit of hiding your troubles until you explode, didn't you?" He asked and it seemed like his tone of voice couldn't decide between dry humour and despair.
Thorin winced. "It would appear so, yes. Does that mean you believe me?", he mumbled into his father's shoulder.
"Have I ever told how your brother came by his name?" Confused by the sudden change of topic, Thorin shook his head. His father sighed and took a step back, releasing him from his arms. "When your mother, Fís, was pregnant for the second time you were just five years old. The day came when she was to give birth and you were the one who was with her then rather than me."
"Yes, I'm aware," Thráin said at Thorin's incredulous look. "I was leading a patrol near Esgaroth at the time as my father, King Thror, had ordered me to. When the news reached me and I arrived at her bedside, your brother was already born and screaming louder than a hundred screeching Wargs. Your mother was asleep from exhaustion and you were standing next to the midwife telling her to 'gimme bwower, now!'. Of course as soon as I was through the door the midwife handed him to me which, for some reason, only made him scream louder. In all honesty, it was chaos." Thorin watched in amazement as a light smile flashed over his father's features. Smiles and laughter were rare in these troubled times, but there it was. Tiny, but unmistakably a smile.
"And then the most amazing thing happened," he continued. "You, tiny as you were back then, took your brother from my arms and immediately he was calm. You smiled at him and he laughed. It is one of my most treasured memories. You were rocking your new born brother back and forth as if you had never done differently and he was giggling and pulling on your braids with his tiny fingers."
"When the midwife asked me what the child's outer name was to be, you were the one to answer. 'Frerin,' you said, 'Is Frerin.' And for the life of me I could not think of a more fitting name."
Thorin looked at his father with astonishment. He had known that the bond he had with his brother ran deeper than that between most other siblings but for it to have been so even so early on was a surprise. He himself had been no more than a toddler at that age. It was a proud achievement that he could already walk and talk back then, let alone choose a name for his younger brother!
"Do you know why I told you of this now?" Numbly, Thorin shook his head. "I have known since the day of his birth that Frerin would be more your little brother then he would ever be my son. I loved him, as I did you and later your sister but you adored him and he adored you in return. You were the one to play with him, to learn with and to teach him. When he had troubles or nightmares he brought them to you. You were the one to praise him for his achievements before all others and I have never seen you prouder than the day you two returned from your first hunt with a stag that had an arrow sticking right out of its eye. The bond you share with your brother is stronger than mithril, and unique in a way that I cannot explain. It is not impossible that Irmo would bless you with a warning, if Frerin truly was in danger."
Thráin sighed once more. "But do you know how much work it is going to be, to explain this to the council? No, I do not want to hear it!" He said as Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "Yes, he will fight by your side. I would not be able to separate you two either way and I see now that it was futile to think of trying such. I will entrust his life and safety to you, nadanê."
He looked at Thorin intently. "No matter what fate dictates, we write our own destiny, Thorin. Do not forget it."
"Thank you, adad." The relief was so overwhelming that Thorin couldn't keep it out of his voice entirely. Still, Thráin only nodded and turned to leave, yet before he had taken more than a few steps he turned to Thorin once more. "This matter is not closed however. When this battle is over you and I will talk and you will tell me all about these dreams of yours. Do you have any suggestions for our battle strategy, while we are at it? Still, it is not like it would change much as I cannot get that blasted council to agree with anyone on anything."
"I am sure you will think of something. I'll talk to Fundin should I have any suggestion, shall I?" Thorin said, a thin smile curling his lips.
"Please do. I will see you in the evening then." Thorin waited until Thráin was out of earshot, then he turned his head to a nearby group of tents.
"You can come out now, Frerin," he said flatly. When his brother did not appear for a few moments more, he added, "I'm not stupid, little brother. Also, I can see your sword sticking out from behind the tent."
There was a nervous laugh and then a rather sheepish looking Frerin walked up to him. "Caught me, huh? Why is it that I can never hide from you?"
"Because I am your elder brother and there is nothing you can hide from me. Do not change the subject. Just what do you think you were you doing?" Thorin asked with an arched eyebrow. Frerin looked up at him with a slightly guilty expression on his face before it was hidden by a blank mask.
"That is what I should be asking you." Frerin said with an eerie calm as he stood up. Thorin sighed. So Frerin had heard what they had been discussing. He wouldn't put it past his brother to peek into the tent through the opening and after that he had obviously followed their father and him. The question was now how much he had heard.
"Frerin ..." Thorin started but was interrupted by Frerin glaring darkly at him.
"What were you thinking?!" Frerin all but snarled. "You can't just bloody waltz into the council tent and demand battleplans from the King!"
"Language," Thorin muttered softly even as he winced at his brother's words. He had to admit, it hadn't been the most thought out of plans, even if it had worked out in the end.
Frerin glared at him. "Nadith," Thorin said and tried to lay a calming hand on his brother's shoulder but Frerin shrugged it off and continued.
"How could you act so bloody foolish! He may be our father but he is also the King! You can't act that way to him and not expect consequences and you should bloody well know it, too!" Frerin's breath came in angry bursts as he continued in his rant. "And in front of all the clan leaders! You know what this means?! They will make him punish you and he will have to oblige them, you stupid idiot!"
Suddenly, Thorin realized that Frerin was not angry at him or at least, that wasn't the whole of it. His brother was afraid for him. He was scared that Thorin would receive punishment from their father or the council because of his concern for him. He probably felt some ridiculous form of guilt as well. That and his already heightened emotional state was causing him to lash out.
"Frerin," Thorin tried again, this time a little firmer, but his brother still would not hear him. Frerin was pacing back and forth grumbling about block-headed older brothers. That wouldn't do. He stepped forward, blocking Frerin's path, efficiently stopping him short. He quickly grabbed both of Frerin's shoulders and, before the younger had the chance to protest, he head-butted his brother. Hard. Frerin stumbled backwards in a daze and a startled noise escaping him.
"Now, are you listening to me?" Thorin asked with a huff while he crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, yes, I'm listening. That hurt you know?" Frerin grumbled and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh, stop whining." That little bump was nothing compared to the head-butts Dwalin dished out.
When he saw the continued glare in his brother's eyes, Thorin turned serious. He had to suppress a sigh before he started to speak. "Father won't punish me. At least not now, with the battle approaching and afterwards he and the other clanheads will be far too busy to even think about punishing one dwarf for being impudent. I did not make any friends today, that's true but I doubt that there will be any immediate consequences to worry about." Thorin stated calmly with a shrug of his shoulder. "Also, it's not like I drew my sword on them and slammed it into the table. The only clan likely to give him any trouble over my display are the Ironfists, the others will likely have forgotten about it in a day or two."
"It is not like they do not give him enough trouble as it is." Frerin commented. Thorin could see his brother's shoulders relax slowly.
"True." Thorin agreed. There was a short stretch of silence.
"Well, actually, the whole thing was quiet hilarious." Frerin said, unable to hide his grin any longer. Thorin looked at him with an exasperation that only an older sibling could summon. "Enlighten me, brother. What, exactly, is there that you would find hilarious about this?"
"Well, for one; I have never seen those stiff clan leaders look more flabbergasted as when father dragged you out of the tent." Frerin said between snickers. "Did you see the Heptar's expression? I think if his mouth had fallen open any wider, a troll could have made himself comfortable in there." That did it. The mental image of the always glaring clan head with a mouth full of troll was to much for even Thorin's composure. A smirk appeared on his lips which quickly morphed into all out laughter, joining Frerin who was already shaking. His brother's loud and easy laughter as a balm to his troubled mind. He had forgotten how easily Frerin had always managed to make his worries seem like specks of dust in the wind, rather that mountain tall boulders crushing him down. He had felt it keenly after the battle of Azanulbizar, as his reason for cheer had died along with Frerin.
Frerin bumped their shoulders together as the two of them continued snickering. They kept them touching as they slowly calmed down from their laughing fit. When Frerin made to pull away, a pained yelp left his mouth. At the same time, Thorin felt a harsh tuck on his braids that he could feel all the way to his roots. A quick glance sideways told him what had happened. One strand of Frerin's hair had managed to get entangled in one of Thorin's beads. Thorin sighed. Frerin's hair getting entangled in something or another was sadly a more regular occurrence than one should think possible.
"When was the last time you combed this mess?" He asked as he carefully untangled Frerin's hair from his bead. Thorin knew that he would not like the answer when he saw his brother scrunch up his nose as he thought.
"No idea, the day before yesterday?" Frerin answered after a while, though it sounded far more like a question than an answer. If their mother had still been alive Frerin would have be in so much trouble.
"Come on." Thorin tucked at Frerin's arm and led him back towards his tent, much like their father had done with him not to long ago. "I'm going to braid your hair," he said once they had entered.
"You can't be serious." Frerin stated nonplussed, which Thorin choose to ignore in favour of rummaging through his brothers chest, looking for a comb. "Seriously, Thorin, I am forty-eight years old. I can do my own hair. This is absolutely unnecessary."
"Obviously, it isn't." Thorin said with a snort as he turned and waved his hand in the general direction of the mess his brother called 'hair'. In his hand he triumphantly held a small and plain silver comb.
Frerin grumbled softly in exasperation. He did flop down to the floor in front of his cot however. When Thorin had sat down behind him he began to work silently. He carefully pulled all of his brother's beads from his hair and then slowly undid the unruly braids. Frerin winced slightly every time the comb got caught in one of the many knots.
"Nadad?" Frerin asked after a while of Thorin silently working the comb through his hair. He grunted in acknowledgement as his fingers were busy untangling one of the more persistent knots. "I'm glad to be in your unit," Frerin confessed.
Thorin's hand stilled in the golden strands. He had not expected Frerin to be glad. He had honestly not had the time to think about what he expected, but Frerin feeling insulted that Thorin did not believe him capable of leading his own unit would have seemed likely. The best he'd have hoped for was annoyance, not the relief he could hear in his brother's voice.
"You thought I'd be mad, didn't you?" Frerin asked dryly. Thorin didn't answer and instead focused on combing through Frerin's hair. "I would have been mad, had you not told me of your dream and had you not said that you trusted me."
"Also... honestly..." Frerin stopped speaking as if he didn't want to continue. His fingers were playing nervously with sleeve of his tunic. Thorin softly tugged at his hair.
"You know that you can tell me anything, naddith." Thorin said. Now that all the knots had been unravelled, he started braiding the strands above Frerin's left ear.
"Even that I have fallen in love with an elf?" Frerin asked as he craned his neck backwards to look up at his brother and laughed at Thorin's pained expression. Frerin's words brought forth something he would rather not think about. He had avoided the topic successfully for far too long start thinking about it now. "Relax, nadad. It was only a joke."
"Hold still, you goof, now I have to rebraid the whole thing," Frerin only laughed when Thorin pushed his head forward. With an eye-roll Thorin restarted the braid. "And yes, you can even tell me something like that."
Frerin took a deep breath but remained silent. Thorin didn't push him. If he pushed now, Frerin would just close off and the topic would never be brought up again. Then he would never get an answer, only more jokes to distract from what was actually going on inside his brother's head.
"How are you not scared?" Frerin asked after a while. This time it was not only Thorin's hand froze. Frerin was afraid of tomorrow's battle. In the question Frerin had just posed, he had admitted his own fear. Truly, he should have known.
'..."I...I'm ...sc-a...red." The words left Frerin's lips between more rasping breaths ...'
Thorin balled his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. He clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth together. All to keep the pain at bay that came with the memory.
"Zaglel?" Frerin asked softly. His brother's voice brought Thorin out of his dark memories. The nickname brought forth the smiling face of their little sister. She was the one who had first come up with it. To Dis, they had always been like sun and moon. Whether that was because of their personalities or their respective hair-colours was a question the toddler had left unanswered at the time.
"I am scared." Thorin admitted as he started working on Frerin's second braid.
"Well, you're not acting like it." Frerin pointed out and Thorin snorted.
"Remind me which one of us had a break down this morning? I'm fairly certain it wasn't you." Thorin countered dryly. Frerin stiffened at the mention of it.
"That doesn't count." Thorin couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Yes, it does, Tahel. I am scared. I fear death. I fear losing the battle tomorrow. Most of all, I fear losing you. Why else would I cry on your shoulder and go against our King?" Thorin asked softly as he brushed his fingers through Frerin's hair.
It had always been so much easier to talk about his thoughts with him than it had been with anyone else. Thorin kept his issues close and guarded them as fiercely as a dragon did it's hoard. Only his siblings and later Bilbo had ever managed to get him to open up but out of them all, Frerin was the one who best knew when he could push and when he couldn't.
Now, it seemed, it was time for a little pushing. Frerin's hand closed around Thorin's wrist and squeezed.
"You're not going to lose me, you know? Just as I'm not going to lose you." Frerin said with conviction. A small bittersweet smile hushed over Thorin's features.
"I hope you are right. There is no shame in being afraid. Fear is normal, naddith. It is to be expected before a battle. Especially one as important as what we face tomorrow." Thorin said gently as he put the bead into Frerin's hair.
"That's why I am glad that you are fighting beside me." Frerin said simply. Thorin had to swallow around the lump in his throat but stayed silent.
"There. All done." Thorin said and hoped that Frerin would overhear the small hitch in his voice. Frerin craned his neck back so that he could look into Thorin's face.
"One day you're going to tell me what is really going on." He said solemnly. Thorin knew Frerin had noticed that something was off. His little brother knew him too well not to notice.
"One day, I will. But that day is not today." Thorin promised with a small strained smile.
"I will hold you to that." Frerin warned with a small smirk that did not hide his worry for Thorin.
"I know, Tahel." Thorin answered as he patted Frerin's shoulder, since he could not ruffle through his brother's hair without destroying his work.
A grumbling sound resounded through the tent and Thorin looked at his stomach in surprise. He suddenly realized that he would have to eat again. This whole 'being alive' business was more bothersome then he remembered. Frerin outright laughed at Thorin's disbelieving expression.
"It seems to me that someone is craving a late breakfast." Frerin said with a broad grin. As if on cue Frerin's own stomach grumbled.
"Well, it appears that that someone isn't alone in his cravings." Thorin answered with a small smirk. "Come on, then. Let's go. There should be some food left over in one of the tents somewhere. We will get a quick breakfast and then I need to talk to Fundin."
oOo
A.N.: Khuzdul Translation - Tahel : Laugh of all laughs - Naddith: little brother - Adad: Father - Zaglel: Moon of all moons
And because there was apparently some age confusion I will add our Age conversion as well.
Age conversion (as calculated by us).
We have decided to go with the character's ages as dedicted by book canon, which not only makes Thorin the eldest of the company but also means he is considerably younger than he looked in the movie during the events of Azanulbizar. The age conversion rates have been attached for your convenience.
Dwaven years to human years - Each one dwarven year is equal to 4.12 human years.
Hobbit to human - Each one hobbit year is equal to 1.65 human years.
Dwarven to hobbit - Each one dwarven year is equal to 2.3 hobbit years.
We base these calculations on the ages of maturity and the general life spans of the different races as they have been described by Tolkien.
Characters age in human years:
Thorin (current physical age) (53) 12 1/2
Frerin (48) 11 3/4
