Frerin loves Thorin dearly, but Dis is his favorite. His sweet little sister, so willing to give to those she loves. Fingers brush through her dark hair and if it weren't for the pain throbbing steadily through his body, he could forget too.

He breathes, buries his face in her hair and knows that Dis is breaking just as much as he is.

"I could never leave you," he tells her, but in his heart he can't forget just how close he was to death. It was luck that saw him through to the end of battle. Frerin is not a warrior, not like Thror or Thrain, and yet he made it through. He assumes his father is dead; the thought of him leaving them is too terrible.

"I'm here." He wishes he were stronger, wishes the words meant more than they do.