His Brother's Maker

Chapter 3

2751 Third Age, Autumn – Erebor

Nine year old Thorin sat on his bed banging his heels against his bedframe. He was worried. The dwarfling had not seen his mother in several days. Whenever he asked after her – asked his father or anyone – they would just look away from him refusing to make eye contact. Nobody seemed to have any time for the young prince lately. Tears fell from his blue eyes. He was scared and he wanted his amâd to hug him, kiss his hair, and tell him that she loved him. He squirmed and picked up his stuffed wolf from his pillow.

Thorin clutched the toy to his chest. He rubbed his face against the soft wool yarn that his mother had used to knit his toy. He continued to rub his face against the wolf's ears. The soft, rhythmic motion comforted the young boy. He was still holding the toy to his chest with his chubby fists when the door to his room opened.

"Thorin," Fundin said quietly. Thorin's elder cousin dropped to one knee and held his arms out for the young boy. The young dwarfling rushed into the open arms still holding his toy. Fundin wrapped his arms around the boy. He stroked the little boy's dark hair that was so much like Frís'. "It's alright, laddie," Fundin soothed. "Your mother wants to see you. She's got someone that she would like you to meet."

Thorin's blue eyes that were rimmed in red turned up to meet Fundin's, "Meet someone?"

"Aye, laddie, I think you'll really like him," Fundin smiled at the boy.

"Him?" Thorin asked again.

Fundin's smile widened at that. Curiosity was growing in the dwarflings blue eyes, "Aye." With that he scooped the small boy up and carried him down the torch lit halls of the royal family's apartments. He looked down at the child who was rubbing the ears of his stuffed wolf against his face. The young prince was so small. He smiled to himself. Fundin was recently married and hoped that soon he would have some small dwarflings of his own with his beautiful wife.

Thorin peered around his cousin's arms as Fundin pushed open the door of Thráin and Frís' private quarters. When he was set down on the large bed with its deep blue quilt. He ignored his father and went to crawl into his mother's lap. Thorin stared up at his mother, his blue eyes wide, when he discovered that his place was already occupied. He looked first from his mother's face to his father's. His father was half-seated on the edge of the bed next to Frís with his arm around his wife's shoulders. Thráin chuckled at the confused expression his eldest's face.

Thorin stared down at the red, squirming body in his mother's arms. Its face looked squashed and its hair was coppery like a fruit. "What is it?"

His parents and Fundin laughed at his words. The small, red thing squirmed and Thorin reached forward to touch the copper hair that was so unlike his own brown rat's nest.

"This is Frerin. He's your brother," Frís said.

Thorin made a small sound in his throat. He made another sound when Thráin pulled his elder son into his lap. Thorin dropped his toy onto the blue quilt.

"Do you know what that means, Little Thorin?" his father asked him.

The dwarfling shook his head, not taking his eyes off of his . . . 'brother'. "No . . . what does it do?"

There was laughter again. "For now he eats, but soon enough he will be following you everywhere a you won't be able to get rid of him," Frís said.

"Thorin, being a big brother is a big responsibility." Thráin said, ruffling his son's hair.

Thorin looked up at his father at that point.

"It's up to you to help protect him, and take care of him when he gets bigger," Thráin says seriously.

Thorin nods – just as seriously – before turning his attention back to his copper haired brother.

"Would you like to hold him, Thorin?" Frís asks gently.

Thorin did not respond.

"Here," she said. Frís leaned forward and placed the red faced bundling in her eldest son's arms. She carefully adjusted his hands so that they were supporting Frerin properly. Thráin placed his hands over his sons just in case.

Thorin started. The bundle was warm. He peered down. "Frerin," he whispered. The smaller boy opened his blue eyes and looked back. Thorin stared in wonder into eyes so like his own. Thorin lowered his head so that the two boys' noses were almost touching. He smelled sweet. Then Frerin opened his pink mouth and squawked loudly. Thorin jerked back; yanking his hands away. If it had not been for his father's supporting hands Frerin would have been dropped.

Thorin stared has parents; his eyes were wide with surprise.

"It's alright, sweetheart," his mother said kissing his forehead with a laugh. "He'll be noisy sometimes . . . just like you."

Thorin picked up his fallen stuffed toy and clutched it to his chest. He hugged the toy tightly. He looked back at his brother. He carefully put his stuffed wolf onto his little brother's chest. He hummed happily and reached for his little brothers copper hair again.

2786 Third Age, Spring – Dunland

That copper head had darkened into a deep, red-golden bronze with age. That same bronze head bobbed in front of him now. Thorin had never forgotten the day that his baby brother was born, and he did not think that he ever would forget. That small red ball had indeed only gotten noisier. As soon as Frerin's chubby legs could support him he was chasing Thorin everywhere, and clinging to his older brother's tunic.

A smile crossed Thorin's face. There had not been a day in the past twenty-six years where he had not seen his baby brother. He could not imagine ever being separated from his wild younger brother.

"Frerin."

Frerin made a huffing sound, but did not turn around. Thorin hummed in response.

The sunlight was filtering through the leaves and pine boughs. It was a good day for Thorin and he wanted to make the last few days of freedom memorable for the both of them. His father had been hinting at a large change that was coming. He had not pressed Thráin for details; he was not all too excited about his maturity ceremony. He did not want to be the heir for the throne of Erebor.

Thorin paused and tore a small branch off a pine tree. He began tearing the fronds off and flicking them at the back of his brother's bronze head. It took five direct hits for Frerin to turn around.

"What are you doing?" the younger brother demanded.

Thorin's only response was a shrug and flung another frond. Frerin batted it away while staring at his brother. Frerin's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looks down the slope at his elder brother. The brother that was supposed to be the responsible, mature, non-childish one of the three royal children. Another frond was tossed in his direction he caught it, took a few steps towards his brother, and flung it with all his might back in Thorin's face. The pine frond – even when flung with force – did not cause any pain or damage.

Thorin's white teeth flashed in a quick grin before he surged forward and tackled his brother. The two brothers wrestled. They used to behave like this all the time when they were much younger. Once they had grown larger and Dís tried to join in their mother had forbidden such rough play in her home. Each of the brothers had their own responsibilities that were increasing; they only saw each other at home most of the time. The two brothers only had limited time with one another.

The brothers tumbled through the leaves that were left over from the previous winter and fall. Each of them had ditched their packs and were struggling for the upper hand. Frerin sat straddling his brother's chest, "Do you give up, brother?"

"Why would I give up to such a small boy?" Thorin teased. "I am only allowing you to win . . . for your confidence."

Frerin grabbed a fistful of dead leaves that he dropped onto his brother's face. White teeth flashed again as Thorin flipped his brother over his head with a deft kick of his feet. Frerin had hold of Thorin's coat. He knew how his brother fought; he was prepared to be pushed over, flipped over, head-over-heels, over Thorin's head. Thorin was jerked over by his brother's firm grip. They both expected the hard, sudden jerk of hitting the ground. That sudden expected stop did not come, they were both falling . . .

Thorin felt as if his stomach had dropped trough his back when he realized what must have happened. The foothills were full of small cliffs in the hillsides that appeared without warning. Thoughts raced through his mind . . . he hoped it was a small cliff, he hopes Frerin will not be hurt. If Frerin does become injured it will be his fault and his mum will be quite angry with him. On a more selfish note if something ever happened to Frerin then Thorin would be the only heir. He would not be able to leave like he had been thinking of more and more often lately.

They landed hard on the ground. The ground was a bit softer than it could have been due to the spring rains that had ended the previous week. Thorin landed on of his younger brother. Thorin groaned and shifted.

"You alright, Frerin?"

There was no response.

"Frerin?" Thorin shouted peering at his younger brother. He desperately touched his brother's face.

"Mahal . . ." he murmured softly. Thorin lowered his ear to his brother's mouth to listen and feel for warm, living breath. Internally he was denying what this might be.

Thorin jerked back, swearing, "Shit, Frerin." Thorin sticks a finger in his ear trying to get all of the wet from his younger brother's tongue out of his ear, while Frerin snorted with laughter.

The younger of the two put his palms under his head. "You should have remembered that one," Frerin said, sticking his tongue out.

"I should have," Thorin grumbled with his finger still in his ear.

"It's been far too long if you've forgotten that old trick," Frerin chuckled.

Thorin shoved Frerin before he stood. He brushed the dirt and the leaves from his clothes. He reached his hand down to help Frerin to his feet. Thorin grasp Thorin's hand before catching his eye. An eyebrow was raised before Frerin pulled Thorin down with a laugh.

The fire was burning bright in the center of a small clearing in the pines. The two brother sat side by side keeping the spring evening chill away. Shoulder to shoulder Thorin watched burning embers float up into the sky to blend with the stars. They had eaten some of the food that they had brought in their packs. He was warm, full, and content.

"Thorin?"

Thorin hummed in response.

"What are you thinking about?" Frerin asked, leaning aback onto his elbows.

Thorin turned to face his younger brother. "Do you really want to know?"

"Maybe," Frerin replied with a smile.

Thorin took a deep breath. He was not sure if he wanted to share these thoughts with his younger brother. He had not voiced these thoughts to anyone except the darkness when he was positive that everyone else in their home was sound asleep. "How would you like to be king," he asked softly.

"King? Me?" Frerin scoffed. "I will never be king. You'll have heirs of your own and there will be no need for me to ever take that role."

"But… Frerin," Thorin paused. "What if I don't want to be king…? What if I want to leave? What if I want to leave and go to the Iron Hills to live with Nain and our cousin Dain?"

Frerin was silent. That silence stretched on for several minutes. Thorin shuffled uncomfortable. He looked away from his brother. He wondered in Frerin had heard him.

"Don't . . ." Frerin's voice was choked. "Don't leave me. You cannot leave me. I need you. Dís needs you. You'll be a much better king than me."

"I don't think that's true . . ."

"Thorin, you are much better than me. You care. I don't care enough about everybody else," Frerin looked directly at his brother his eyes hard and glistening with tears.

"I'm sorry," Thorin mumbled. "I just don't want this either. I'll stay for you, Dís, and mother."

Another silence stretched between the two brothers. "Adâd has been pressuring me lately about responsibility. I have responsibility every day for breakfast and I don't want it. I want days like this with you."

A smile flickered across Frerin's lips, "That's good. I'd tell him where you went if you did leave."

Thorin smiled back laying down onto his side. Silence grew again until Frerin yawned.

"Tired, brother?"

Frerin simply nodded in response.

Frerin lay down in front of his brother. Thorin pulled the blanket over both of them. His brother's hair tickled his nose as he adjusted the wool and fur blankets. He draped his arm over his baby brother. Frerin sighed softly and curled up. Thorin smiled while listening to his brother's breathes even out. He nestled his nose into his brother's bronze hair. He still smelled sweet. He smelled just as sweet as he did on the day he was born. Thorin fell asleep warm and close to his brother, both of them caught up in the moments they were living. Neither were thinking about the future and how their lives would change when Thorin was through with his ceremony in a few days.

A/N:

I meant for this flashback to be at the end of chapter 2, but I forgot about it. I've been tweaking my outline, expanding it where it is needed.

In the flashback Thorin is 9 years old, his equivalent age is 4.5.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I'd like to know if people are enjoying this story enough for me to continue writing it. :)