forgottenbrother: (you're hilarious)
Frerin, son of Thrain ([personal profile] forgottenbrother) wrote2013-06-10 11:04 pm

OPEN POST

OOC NOTES: Okay so I was going to set up a scene here, but I know I have at least two people who want to tag in and play with Frerin, so I decided to let you guys set up a scene on whatever's going through your head. Feel free to give me a blank tag and I'll set up scene in that case, but talk to me if you want to do that so we can decide on something that we both want to do.

Other than that...um...well yeah just go for it :3
perdure: (They'd be lost without me)

/cradles gently

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-13 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
Her skirts are muddied from her flight to Frerin's side, blood seeping into the fabric where they press together. Its a poor substitute for the agony she can see etched into his features or the way he trembles against her.

Mahal he feels so small against her, shoulders too broad and unfilled, limbs too long like a foal growing into it's racing legs. How could he have gone to battle and expected to live, how grateful she is that he did.

There had been times when she woke up screaming in to the silence of their home, feeling dread coil in her belly and wondering if she would be the only one left. If her small shoulders would bear the weight of a once great kingdom. Those nights she hadn't gotten much more sleep, and Dís doesn't think she'll be getting much sleep any soon.

He winces and she tries not to flinch away, arm soft about his waist as they walk the suddenly too far length to their home.

"Hush now," It's a low murmur, thick with tears and crumbling at the edges. "Lets get you patched up, but don't you dare apologize, I shan't hear it."
perdure: (Ugh these peasants)

/soothes

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-13 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
Dís isn't sure how she's holding herself together. They're a sturdy race, hardy and built to endure but this is surely too much isn't it? How can they survive after so much grief, after losing their home and losing the prospect of what might have become one? She'd seen the smattering of warriors left, couldn't even begin to tally the lost lives and wounded and she was good at maths. As good as someone who had no resource to train better could be.

But most of all, she'd noticed the stark lack of her father and grandfather and it feels as if someone has split her in two and scooped out the tender flesh of her heart. Her limbs feel heavy like lead, and she counts each step out in her head (one two one two) until the door she'd left swinging looms up ahead with both the comfort of a dock after being mired at sea and the broiling fear that once she steps through the doorway it will all be permanent.

Frerin breathes and whispers hollow words wrought with apologies into her hair and Dís steels her spine, carries him through like it's a smithy's flame and they're being reforged from a broken blade into something better and stronger.

(She can only hope.)

"We'll make you another one, brother." It's almost offhand, but there's purpose behind her words, voice mithril-strong because even though she's young, Dís is determined. She's lost much, in the exodus from Erebor and after, but never so much as the loss of what today has brought and Mahal bless, but she's never letting anybody take what's left of her family from her again.

First though, she's got a wounded brother in her arms and she must take care of him where their mother would have had she lived. With soft touches Dís guides Frerin to the kitchen and settles him in a chair. Then as she bustles about gathering water (thankfully she'd been set on making tea to calm her nerves and it's already warm), long strips of white bandages, bottles of ointments meant to cleanse wounds and needle and thread just in case.

With a soft look in her eyes Dís cups his jaw in her hand, leaning down to press their foreheads together for a brief moment as reassurance. When she pulls away it's with the grim determined look on her face only someone who's seen a loved one hurt and been the only one to do something can muster.

"Off with your shirt."
kinginexile: All icons by this journal. They suck. (Got lost TWICE Gandalf. Twice.)

[personal profile] kinginexile 2013-06-14 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Want my mouth?" He'll ask, nipping along his thigh. He'll switch to the other one, giving a good nip there as well, worrying the skin till it was sure to leave a mark.

"And what do you want me to do with it, Frerin?" Come now, tell him everything.
perdure: (Fili did what now?)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-14 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
After so long waiting, the silence is no longer quite so poisonous or distressing. Or rather, it wasn't. Now, Dís knows the silence will never quite abate. There will be no more fireside chats with her family as they try to keep warm in winter and keep morale among them high. There will be no more strong arms to pick her up and twirl her about, no laughter when Dís kisses the eyepatch covering the scarred mess where he father's eye once was. The silence seeps into every corner of the room and settles there like a weary traveler finally come home, slinks into her very blood until she can hear the blank rush of it in her ear drums. The longer Thorin stays out there, dealing with mourners and court members, the louder it gets.

But Dís cannot focus on that right now, she double checks she has what she thinks she needs and re-arranges items before turning back to face Frerin and smile softly at the blue eyes so like hers and Thorin's. For all her youth, Dís can feel the age settling upon her shoulders.

"I'll help you then." Carefully, carefully, she reaches forward and takes the edge of the tunic from his hand, holds it so he can slip his uninjured arm free and then tugs it over his head and down the wounded arm. There's a quick draw of breath once his torso is revealed, and brow creasing in worry she carefully takes a rag and dips it in the water, cleans the blood and grime from his skin before she can even think about cleaning out and patching up wounds.
perdure: (Leave me behind again I dare you)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-14 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
His words draw a sharp glance, icy with fury and helplessness as Dís cleans his skin and hisses.

"Don't you say that." It's laden with fear, and though her movements are gentle, her hands tremble. "You did not die and you will not die -- not for a very long time or I will bring you back just to kill you myself, do you understand?"

But he's telling the truth, the wounds she can see are relatively minor damage and though there's a possibility of bleeding beneath the surface and cracked ribs, Dís could do nothing about that. She just clears away what she can, gently, and dips the rag in the water, wringing it out until the bowl is pinkish in color and the rag not so much. Eventually, when Frerin's mostly cleaned, she turns to his wounded arm and tries to cause as little pain as possible. Fingertips skim along his limb in search of the break, feather soft so as not to jar bone, but enough to feel it. There's a nod, eyes half lidded so she can focus more on the feeling of bone and skin beneath hands and she looks back up at him.

"It's broken. But cleanly, I think. I'll try to set it and splint it but we'll need to call for a healer who knows more than I do if you want to be able to use it properly again."
kinginexile: All icons by this journal. They suck. (Let me be all super close and shit.)

[personal profile] kinginexile 2013-06-14 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
But teasing his dear brother is the best part. Thorin has some mercy on him though, tongue lapping from the heavy sacs at the base of his cock to the tip. Lips press against the head and then he's mouthing along the hardened flesh, blue eyes watching Frerin. He's still not quite giving him what he wants, but it's still better than nothing, yes?

The way Frerin's body shudders for him, how he gasps and whimpers. He does like to hear him beg. Though he knows without a doubt his brother will get him back for this once they've returned home.
perdure: (These fucking elves I swear)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-15 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
Her chin trembles beneath his touch, teeth sinking into her lip so she can keep hold of herself and not give into the tears she feels filling up her eyes. Still, her voice is heavy with unshed tears when she speaks.

"You are forgiven already, brother." Her face turns into his palm, seeking the comfort, and with a soft sigh she pulls away to dump the dirtied water and gather clean water. Once she's returned, Dís picks up the vial of ointment and gently spreads it across the wounds. That done, she winds bandages just loose enough about his torso. His arm is trickier, and it's why she's waited to reply to his question.

"It cannot wait long or it won't set right and you might lose the ability to draw your bow or hold a blade properly."

She's just glad the bone has not broken through the skin, she wouldn't know how to help if it was, hardly knows how to help with this as it is. Still, she takes his wrist and has Frerin hold out his arm, carefully feels out where the break is and with eyes mostly closed, gently tries to nudge it back into place. That done, she wraps a layer of bandages about his forearm and then suddenly realizing she had't gathered something to splint it with, looks around. Her gaze falls upon the mostly empty quiver he'd dumped before they struggled through removing his shirt.

"Frerin, can I have one of your arrows?"
perdure: (Ugh these peasants)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-06-18 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
That soft touch is soothing, and as Dís smiles just a tad as she bandages him up. There's a twinging pain in her chest as he flinches and gasps for air, eyes moving feverishly beneath closed lids. It's obvious what he's remembering, and though Dís wasn't there, couldn't have been there, she can't help but wish she could take some of his pain up her shoulders to help.

What she can do is be swift and sure in the way she bandages up his arm. With his permission recieved, she grabs his free hand and presses it to where she's holding the bandage tight.

"Hold this for me." And she shifts to pluck an arrow from his quiver, carefully pulling arrowhead and fletching off the shaft of the arrow. Once done, she sets the arrow on the table and pulls a knife from her belt, cleaving into two shorter pieces.

Dís pauses here though, reaching up and cupping his cheek in hand, soothing thumb along cheekbone and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Almost done, ok?"
perdure: (Not one for waiting)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-07-01 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Sometimes Dís feels as if she is far older than the nearly four decades she's seen. Erebor seems so long ago, memories buried beneath the gauzy haze of childhood and the ash and dragonflame of a mountain burning. Right now she feels twice her age, if not thrice.

Their mother would have been here taking care of them if she had not fallen long ago, and so it falls upon Dís' still thin shoulders. But sometimes she wonders if she will be able to handle the weight of being the cornerstone of this shrinking family. The knowledge of it lurks in her gaze, hidden beneath her worry as she carefully uses the arrow shafts to splint his arm. It can't take more than a few minutes but there's pain in it and she can feel Frerin trembling against her.

With a quiet sound of relief she tucks the edge of the bandage away and double checks to make sure it's bandaged well.

"There, 'twasn't hard was it?" Her smile is nebulous, trembling at the edges and not quite reaching her eyes as she cradles his face between small hands and touches their foreheads together.
perdure: (They're right Dori's cooking is terrible)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-07-03 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Every little ragged breath is like a dagger through her, carving up the tender beating heart beneath her breast. There are tears still gathered upon her lashes, mouth trembling with the want to cry and the need not to. When Frerin closes his eyes, she drags in a soft, gasping breath of air, too loud in the silence of their home.

"Come then," Her arms beneath his hold him up, and though Dís is still small and in her youth, not yet hitting the older growth spurts, she is strong. She half-carries him to bed and helps him lay down. And then, with a faintly distressed look, she piles in after him, face buried into the crook of his neck. She doesn't sob, but there are tears against his skin, helpless and worried, "I'm sorry I couldn't help more, brother."
perdure: (Ugh these peasants)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-07-04 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Support is the least she can give him, and what Dís gives freely even if he were not to ask for her to do so. What more does she have, after all? Still, he lies down and wraps his arms around her, pressing kisses and endearments to the dark curling mass of her hair and for a moment she can forget that his arm is broken and his mind is darkened with battle.

For a moment, Dís can pretend that nothing has happened and they are cuddling after a bad dream.

"Brother dearest, your safe return 'twas all I wished for." Still, she smiles, pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw and curling closer. She hasn't slept well in far too long, too worried and too unused to the silence. Perhaps now she can, knowing at least part of her family has returned.
perdure: But I guess that's okay (Frerin got to go and I didn't)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-07-11 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
I could never leave you he says and while Dís wants dearly to believe him, that is a lie she no longer can find the heart to keep faith in. Everyone leaves, everyone dies, it is a fact of life and she has gone through enough to know it well. So Dís' mouth turns up into a trembling smile, arm winding around Frerin's waist to hold him close.

Part of her wonders how it would have been if she could have been there on that battle field, if she could have done anything. But that's folly to worry about, not when she's got the deaths of her father and grandfather already weighing on her mind. So with a little sniffle she nods.

"You better let me take you to see Oín, at least." A poke at his shoulder, "I'll be very cross if you don't."
perdure: (Not one for waiting)

[personal profile] perdure 2013-07-12 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Aye," she replies just as softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw and settling in comfortable. "Sleep now, you need your rest."

It's unspoken, but there in the way she holds him close and presses warm against his side Dís makes it clear she will guard him as he sleeps. And she will definitely take him up on that promise later on.

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