If there was one thing about Frerin that he both simultaneously loved and hated, he was so very touchy. It could drive a young dwarf mad sometimes. Like right now, the way those lips and teeth teased hi--

And then any sort of allure Frerin may have had is instantly ruined as he's shoved off his own pony! He lands with an 'oof', breath knocked out of him. Rolling onto his back he stares up at the ceiling of leaves the trees have created above them, then his gaze goes to Frerin, no doubt having a chuckle at him.

"Come here, little brother, and I shall say many things to you. None close to what I said the night before." He wheezes a bit, sounding rather pathetic. After a few good coughs and finding his breath, Thorin will push himself up and he grabs for Frerin, by the leg, tugging him off the pony next. Frerin meet the ground, ground meet Frerin.