*sigh* Isn't it hateful? I found out an idea to a new story, but I can't write it yet because I'm working on this story!
Maybe I'll put this on hiatus after a few more chapters...it won't really matter as I don't have many follows or favourites...
Enjoy!
Frerin roughly pulled out the wooden chair and pointed at it. "Sit."
Thorin took his seat in front of the mirror and sighed. When he did, Frerin immediately grabbed a few strands of hair and began carefully, but quickly braiding.
"Tell me why this is necessary again," He folded his arms, glaring at his reflection.
"Because you are going to meet the representatives of the Seven Dwarf Kingdoms. I'd think they'd be expecting the young Prince to look a bit tidier!"
"Yeah, but they're a bunch of greying dwarves—why would they care?"
"You know dwarves take pride in their looks, which you don't," Frerin was already on his second braid. "Plus, there might be dwarf lasses,"
"Oh, so this is about the ladies now," Thorin accused jestingly.
"Well, you'd want to make first good impressions, don't you?"
Thorin stared at Frerin through the mirror. "You're not actually serious, are you?"
"I'm very serious, dear brother. I eavesdropped on our Grandfather and Father earlier. They were planning to put you into an arranged marriage,"
This sentence had an instant response. Thorin swiftly turned around, his face almost colliding with Frerin's hands. "What!?"
"You ruined the braid!" his brother snapped. "Now I have to do it all over again!"
"Hey! We're talking about my arranged marriage here! What did they say!?"
"Turn around first,"
Thorin grudgingly turned around to face the mirror again, as Frerin continued on his braid. "Okay, what did they say?"
"Grandfather said that he'd sent a raven a few days ago, to invite the Kingdoms to look upon the splendour of the Arkenstone," Frerin said. Neither of the brothers had actually seen it yet—today would be the day in which their Grandfather would unveil it. "Apparently, he also told the ravens to tell the dwarven rulers to bring along any available female suitors for his 'eldest grandson'."
"Outrageous," Thorin hissed, seething with annoyance. "Didn't Father say anything against it?"
"You know Father and Mother were put into an arranged marriage, right?" Frerin pointed out.
"They were lucky!" he retorted. "I don't think I'm going to find my One from an arranged marriage!"
Ones were very complicated subjects in the matter of dwarves. It is said that a dwarf can never be truly happy, until they find their One—the dwarf that they would marry. A reason why many dwarves didn't marry was because either their One was married to someone else, or they simply could not find their One.
"Anyway, I think you should still look handsome and prince-ly," Frerin said, slipping a silver bead on the end of the finished braid. "And then you probably mention…just in passing… that you have an extremely dashing younger brother who's available…"
Thorin slapped him.
"And now, for the unveiling of the Arkenstone!"
Thorin tried to look as impressive as possible, while Frerin puffed out his chest and tried to look as handsome as possible. Not long after he and his brother had gotten ready, the giant gates of Erebor had opened, and the first few visitors had already streamed in. As time progressed, more and more dwarves came in, milling around the Hall of Kings with the other residents of Erebor. As it turned out, many dwarf lasses were there as well. Well, many for dwarven standards.
"Ooh, look," Frerin had pointed out, as a lass drifted past them in a light green wave. "She looks nice,"
Thorin had made a face. "Not for me."
"What about her?"
"Too purple,"
"Her?"
"Too elaborately dressed,"
"HER!?"
"Just…no,"
"Seriously Thorin," Frerin had commented. "You're too harsh a critic,"
"None of those dwarrowdams are my One!" Thorin had snapped back. "What in Mahal's name was Grandfather thinking?"
They had continued arguing, until Thror had shut them up. He began by saying some lengthy speech about how Erebor was thriving with wealth and life, and then he began talking about the Arkenstone. He praised the miner who found it (a dwarf named Holnirn) and had presented him with a large chest full of treasures. And then he announced to bring in the Arkenstone.
A large object covered by a red, velvet robe was carried out by four dwarves. There was utter silence over the whole hall, as they placed it down.
"Wow, it must be big," Frerin whispered in Thorin's ear.
The dwarf grabbed the edge of the velvet cloth, and pulled the whole thing off with a flourish, revealing the object underneath.
It was a throne, carved from marble, stone, silver and gold. In a small scoop—just above where the person would sit, surrounded by a decorative motif carved from gold, was the Arkenstone.
It was as if the gem shone with its own light. It was pure white and radiant—like the stars that shone above Erebor, but shot through with streaks of rainbow colours. Thorin could understand the excitement of Master Tybag, as he stared upon this legendary jewel.
"Stop it!" Someone pinched him. He turned to see Frerin, who was not so easily enraptured by the Arkenstone. "You look like the fools gaping at it down there,"
It was true. All the dwarves gathered in the Hall of Kings were looking at the Arkenstone with wonder upon their faces.
"This jewel signifies my right to rule," Thror shouted. "And that my line will continue to rule after me for many ages! This Arkenstone will unite the Seven Kingdoms of the Dwarves!"
Then, one by one, each ruler of the Kingdoms came up, and swore loyalty to the Arkenstone, and whoever held possession of it.
"Serious stuff," Frerin muttered.
"Now, to feast!" his Grandfather roared, and the dwarves began milling out, heading towards the Main Hall.
"Hello there," As Thorin and Frerin were about to leave, they were ambushed by dwarrowdams.
"So, you're looking for a female suitor?" One of them said. She was wearing a light shade of blue. "I'm Adra, by the way,"
"Ummm…not really," Thorin looked down and shuffled his feet. Curse my awkwardness! "It's actually my Grandfather forcing me into an arranged marriage,"
"Oh," The look on Frerin's and the dwarrowdam's faces told him that was the wrong thing to say.
"Anyway," said a purple covered dwarf lass. "If you want to see us, we live in the Iron Hills. If you want to know my name, I'm Bazdeth."
"Oookkayyy," Thorin said, slowly backing away. "Right," He was getting very freaked out and overwhelmed.
"We were all handpicked by Lord Gror," A green-robed lass said. "I'm Ginla,"
"And I'm Morah," another one piped up quickly, whilst shooting a glare Ginla's way.
Frerin, sensing his older brother's discomfort, stepped forward. "Of course, if Thorin already secretly admires one of you, I'm still single—"
"Oh shut up," One of them snapped. "Look at you—you don't even have a beard. Plus," She batted her eyelashes at Thorin, as the other dwarrowdams agreed with her. "I only want your brother,"
"That's it, I hate you all," Thorin said abruptly without thinking. "You can all scoot back to the Iron Hills,"
"But why!?" they wailed.
"Because you insulted my brother, who is a charming, kind dwarf that would care for your every need if you ever married him. Anyone dwarf who marries someone based on looks is no good to me. Now go,"
Sniffing disdainfully, they turned in a swirl of coloured silk and left.
"Wow," Frerin looked at him. "You'd really do that? If they didn't like me, you wouldn't marry them?"
Thorin laughed. "Of course, brother! However attractive they may be for dwarven standards, I think they're ugly if they think you're ugly. Plus, didn't you see how they acted?"
"They were so up themselves," Frerin put on a very convincing high-pitched voice. "Hi! I'm Ginla! I love you Thorin! In fact, I love you even more I love myself! Will you marry me!?"
Thorin punched him, and they collapsed from laughter.
Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!