Chapter 2: Far over
The skies were grey and silent. Thorin stood over his younger brother's tomb, face pallid and solemn.
"He died fighting." A voice says, hand coming to smooth over his back. "Do not let his death be in vain."
"I only wished it were me instead." Thorin replied, voice raspy from lack of use. "Why couldn't it have been me instead Balin?" Thorin turned to the elder dwarf, whose brown eyes held empathy for the young prince.
"Mahal knows we lost a great fighter, but what can we do now?"
"I- He was...I sound selfish. You too lost your own father Balin. Yet you do not mourn."
"Aloud." Balin corrected. "Now wipe your face. The council comes." Both turned to see a group of stern looking dwarven elders marching down the pathway, a parcel in the front man's hand. "Quick now." Balin ushered, handing Thorin his handkerchief. Thorin dabbed his face, which turned into a frown as the parcel was handed out to him.
"Your father had told me to give this to you should something happen to him. I thought to wait at least a while longer, but seeing as to how it cannot be put off much longer…
"Did he tell you what it was?" Thorin questioned, taking the parcel and quickly peeling of the traditional Durin seal. The council shared looks, one clearing his throat.
"He did not." Was the simple reply, before they turned and left from where they came. Inside was a purple flower; its leaves dry and withered. It smelled of lavender. There was also a few letters inside, one seemingly new, the others yellowed. He took the eldest one dated 2750 in unfamiliar handwriting.
To my dearest Thorin,
I will watch you grow from afar. As you learn to crawl, take your first steps , or form words to soon flow from your lips like the springs of these mountains. May Mahal remind you that we are not born from stone, that you have a mother who loved you as the shore does the moon.
There was no name at the end. The letter-note simple in its message. He could conclude however that it was his mother, whom he had very little dealings with. He would always sneak to look at her when the adults were holding court. She was very beautiful, and many people said that her children took after her and not their father Thrain.
"A letter. From my mother." Thorin answers to Balin's questioning gaze.
"Nanna." Balin whispered. Thorin wondered why his mother would write to him, instead of talking to he and his siblings when they were younger. They were always around, and would've enjoyed her company as opposed to a wet nurse. Were they too wild when they were younger, and scared the dwarrowdam off? How Dis and Frerin would run naked in the halls to taunt their caretaker while he laughed and cheered him on? Frerin, his lost brother. Their last words were yelled, a heated argument over something trivial., and Frerin had stalked away to the fields. That was the last time they spoke. Throat tightening again with grief, Thorin swallowed thickly at an act to compose himself.
"Please excuse me, I wish to finish these alone." He muttered quickly, all but running to his chambers and slamming the door behind him. The fireplace had already been ignited, flames eating the dry wood, demanding more as they crackled and spit out embers like a fastidious child. Three months since the battle of Azanulbizar, waging forces between the orcs and dwarves. A costly victory, which still led them nowhere. The King estranged, families in grievance over lost ones. Even Dis, his strong baby sister was in disarray. All the letters were nothing more than logs of wealth within the lost mountain, and his Grandfather's accounts of lost battles. As interesting as they were, they did little to ease the agitation peeping over his shoulder. Luckily, he found a pitcher of ale by his bedside, filling a cup and gulping it down. He filed it once more, before drinking that one as well. It wasn't enough to give him that fuzzy feeling he liked… Thorin walked over to the window and reflected on his cold surroundings. He hated Ered Luin with a passion. It was dark and dank smelling, a bitter reminder of how he and his people were forced from their home by the dragon Smaug. . It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel depressed. Sighing, Thorin took a seat on his bed, shrugging off thick layers of clothing, until he was left in a simple tunic and pants. He could roam the halls just like this, should he be summoned. There was one letter that caught his eye the most. It was ripped at the edges, and appeared to have been burned. It's seal was a series of intercrossed triangles. There was no address, but reading it, it started off like a treaty.
I, Odin, son of Borr, son of Búri, write to you in hopes of an alliance between the house of Durin, and my own- Odinson. Your people have been assaulted long enough without aid, and it is unsettling to see such a strong force be brought down by the means of orcs.
I understand that you received no help from the elves, but I question why you deemed it wise to seek no further. And with my question answered, add that had you sought out farther than the Mountains, you would've found my troops readily at your command. With this mentioned alliance Asgard would forever be your brother in arms, fighting long side you at any given moment. How will this alliance be executed- I will be rather blunt with this thought, in hopes you will cease to mock me. Marriage. Yes, a marriage between a child of mine- Odin Borson, and yours- Thrain, King under the mountain.
It is known to me that only one daughter was born to you, and that she was given to the well known victorious General Vili, the moment she reached courting age, and that you haven't any other dwarrows in the line of Durin. Perhaps this proposition would be befitting for the cause. Your eldest son, and heir, Thorin, to be wedded to my son and heir Thor. Understand that because it is I that proposed this treaty, Thorin will take the name of Odinson as he is invited into the house of my son, and come to live with his husband in Asgard. I would suggest the Spring of 2800, when both are of common age.
-The Allfather
Thorin read the letter twice over, laughing at the end, and lying back on his bed, the laughing turned into angry breaths as realization set in. Aesir. Marry. Thorin. Odin. He let out an inhuman yell, throwing the letter into the fire. Blood boiling, Thorin grabbed at his hair, pacing the room back and forth.
"Thorin! Are ye okay in there lad?" A voice shouts from behind the thick oak doors of his bedroom. "Heard ya scream."
"I'm fine Dwalin." Thorin yelled back. "Mind somewhere else."
"Mindin' you at the moment. Gonna let me in or not?"
"NO." Thorin groaned, turning back to the letter that had yet to shrivel into ash.
"Well why not?" Dwalin questioned impatiently. "Got another lad in there with ya?" The door was wrenched open, and Dwalin pulled in.
"WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?" Thorin growled, teeth clenching together in anger.
"I heard you scream-
"Yell." Thorin corrected, tucking a strand of wavy black hair behind his ear, before crossing them in annoyance.
"S'pose it's bout yer father?" Dwalin inferred. "With him being gone and all… Abandoning us."
"He did not abandon us!" Thorin raged, getting into Dwalin's face, who didn't budge. "He… he.." Thorin's anger dissipated, turning into weariness, as he plopped himself onto the large poster bed, Dwalin taking a seat beside him.
"That damned parcel the council gave me… had a bunch of old notes in it."
"Yeah. Balin told me bout that. Said ye might be angry. But why?"
"Some of the letters were from my mother."
"O dear-"
"Those didn't upset me. It was the one from Asgard." Thorin huffed, hands kneading away a potential headache.
"Asgard?" Dwalin repeated. "Why would they write to you?"
"Not to me Dwalin. A treaty of peace… a marriage." Dwalin looked uncomfortable, standing and walking to the door.
"Oh sorta forgot bout that one." He grumbled.
"Forgot about that one? So you've heard of it before?" Thorin questioned.
"Not exactly. Heard the elders talk of it. Thought it was just some rumors people liked to spread. I never… no one ever upped and talked about it directly."
"No one ever told me about it.." Thorin mopped. "Everyone knew except me. And it is to be reinforced this spring."
"Gives enough' time to prepare eh?" Dwalin barely managed to duck the tankard of ale thrown at him.
"Get out."
"Look I'm sorry Thorin. Shouldn't have said that. But what can we do now? Call it off? The council's probably talking of it now, arranging things so you can be ushered off."
"I won't be ushered off. I refuse to marry someone I don't know. Nevertheless a man."
"You wouldn't know the difference was it not called out." Dwalin quipped. "Besides, isn't up to you. Have you read the letter yer father sent? There's got te be one accepting or refusing. Certainly yer old man wouldn't agree now would he?"
"Thrain and I didn't spend much time together. My grandfather raised me, I wouldn't know." Dwalin felt sorry for his friend, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"S' gonna be fine. If not, then we'll make do. I give ya my word Thorin."
"Ay." Thorin replied noncommittally.
