"Well," Frerin said, speeding up to walk next to his brother, "You've been more silent than usual."
Thorin smirked and shifted his pack to his other shoulder. Frerin, smiling beneath his thick braided beard. He waited for some explanation but Thorin offered none.
"The human girl?" the younger dwarf asked in a lower voice, careful not to let others hear.
"Her name is Marryn," Thorin said quietly.
"Something did happen, then!" Frerin whispered.
Thorin sighed and said, "We have agreed to keep in contact, through letters and meetings when possible. That is all."
Frerin glanced ahead at their father walking at the head of the group.
"You ought not to have become so attached, brother," Frerin said, "A human woman has no place in the halls of Erebor."
"Calm yourself," Thorin grunted, "I found her charming. Is that such a crime? We are only talking."
"Talking may lead to something more," Frerin said, "Grandfather would never allow such a union."
"What makes you so sure?" Thorin asked.
"The kingdom of Erebor belongs to dwarves alone," Frerin said firmly, "The king would have his heir marry a noble and hardy dwarf woman."
"The king does not control my heart," Thorin hissed.
"It is precisely your heart I mean to save," Frerin said, "such dealings with a daughter of men can only end in tears."
With a huff, Thorin stomped away, joining a small group of his cousins as they walked toward the Lonely Mountain.
His sister, Dís, caught up to him.
"I'm in no mood for further lecturing from younger siblings," Thorin said gruffly.
"I have not come to lecture you," Dís replied just as gruffly.
Thorin frowned at his sister. She was a stout young dwarf with long braided hair the color of straw and a thin wispy beard to match. Though she was only in her early teens, Thorin had always found her to be wise beyond her years.
"I came to congratulate you," she said quietly, punching her brother hard on the arm.
"On what?" Thorin asked, rubbing his arm.
"Your human girl," Dís rolled her eyes impatiently.
Thorin smirked. "She is a friend. Nothing more."
"Sure," Dís replied, smirking back at him. She walked back to her friends without another word.
The morning was calm and warm, but the whispers of autumn were surely growing louder. Thorin looked back at the distant city of Dale and fumbled with the corner of a small bit of parchment in his pocket. On it was written the address of a certain tailor's shop, wherein lived the good lady Marryn.