OPEN POST

[forgottenbrother]

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

Comments

[kinginexile]

Sometimes young princes needed a break from being well... princes. The sons of Thrain certainly did! Especially from prying nosy sisters who tried to join in everything they did. They loved her, truly they did, but they did like to have time for just them. Lately this seemed the only way to get it.

Thorin glances back at Frerin behind him on his own pony, giving a little smirk as he kicks his off to a quicker pace, racing off ahead. Feel like playing tag, brother?

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin is enjoying being out in the open air, beneath the sky again. Erebor is lovely, and it's home, but Frerin has a strange affinity for the outdoors and for the woods.

When his brother glances back though, Frerin meets his eyes, catching that smirk and returning it with one of his own.

Oh, so is that today's game? The younger brother grins, digging his heel into his pony's flank. She tosses her head and whinnies at him.

Frerin waves at Thorin as his pony flies past his brother's, a cheeky grin splitting his face.

[kinginexile]

Oh don't get cheeky, brother.

Thorin urges his pony to quicken, slowly catches up. He doesn't want to get ahead of him, no no. In fact once he's close enough, Thorin will just reach out to tug Frerin's hood back, then he'll take the chance to speed past him.

So there!

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin will get as cheeky as he likes, thank you very much, brother.

Frerin doesn't pay Thorin much mind until his hood is tugged down, at which point a startled yelp and a laugh burst out from his throat.

"Thorin! That's cheating!"

He spurs his own pony on, at least enough to catch up with his brother.

[kinginexile]

"Nay! Tis not!" He'll call back trying to keep ahead of him. Eventually though his pony does start to tire, she's not quite got the stamina Frerin's has. He tries to lose Frerin in a thicker bit of woods, winding through trees.

He'll outsmart you some how, little brother.

[forgottenbrother]

Good luck with that, Thorin. Frerin loves these woods; he knows them as well as he knows Erebor.

Should Thorin glance back, it'll appear that he has indeed lost his brother.

At least until Frerin drops down from an overhead tree branch onto his brother's pony, seated just behind Thorin.

"Miss me, brother?"

[kinginexile]

Thorin indeed thinks he's outsmarted his brother, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. At least until the little surprise. That gets a curse from him and his pony almost bucks them off, though Thorin will take care to have her stop. A hand petting along her neck to calm her.

He'll shoot Frerin a look behind him.

"Why would I ever miss such a face?" Who was he kidding, Frerin was certainly handsome, the both of them were a terrible duo with their looks. Along with their sister who was quickly growing into a looker herself, beard and all, they would be a terrible trio soon.

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin laughs, an arm winding around Thorin's waist to keep himself steady and his chin resting on his brother's shoulder.

"That is hardly what you said last night," Frerin reminds Thorin, his voice low and rather sultry. His lips brush against Thorin's ear, nipping gently at his earlobe.

And then with a hard shove, he pushes his brother off the pony.

[kinginexile]

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.

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin is laughing so hard he can barely breathe, gasping and pointing at his winded older brother.

Thorin's wheezed threat only makes him laugh harder, and Frerin doubles over, shoulders shaking with laughter.

At least until he feels Thorin's hand on his leg. He only has time for a yelp of protest before he's yanked down too, hitting the ground hard and groaning.

At least now Frerin knows how it feels to be completely winded too?

[kinginexile]

Their ponies will wander off just slightly, grazing, probably thinking them both mad. Thorin move to lamely flop across his brother, as if to pin him down. Ha. He's won.

Now it's just a bunch of heavy breathing and coughing ala two dwarves.

Finally Thorin speaks, murmured against Frerin's side.

"... that was the worst game of tag."

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin chuckles, still catching his breath. His hands instinctively slide into Thorin's hair, coming out tangles with his fingers.

"You only say that...because you lost," he wheezes, giving his brother the best cheeky smile he can muster when he's gasping for air.

[kinginexile]

"Think what you like!" Thorin huffs, but relaxes where he is. Frerin is cheating by threading fingers into his hair. He knows it. Regarding how Frerin looks rather lovely out of breath and roughed up from their game, he does look away to have a look about where they are.

Not a terrible place to set up camp actually. He'll push himself up, kneeling beside his brother now, a hand resting on Frerin's chest.

"We should make camp, give the ponies a moments rest."

AU where he comes back from azanulbizar???

[perdure]

There are times when Dís truly hates that she was born a dwarrow-dam, to be protected because she was among such a slender sliver of the population. There were times she reveled in it, in the way her father held her aloft like she was feather-light and more precious than gold. Or when her mother would braid the thick hair that tumbled to her waist and murmur into large ears how Dís would bring honor and life in the pitter patter of young feet.

When Dís was a child, the future seemed so far off and rosy as if hidden behind the gauzy fabric veils older women wore sometimes.

Now though, now Dís waits in the shamble of a home that they've cobbled together and remembers the whispering pools and high reaching arches of Erebor, even as she murmurs her thanks to even have a roof over her head. It's quiet and far too big for a young dwarrow of only 39, and maybe that's how she hears the murmurs, hears the exact moment the excitement fades into screams and hysterical tears and her heart leaps up into her throat.

She flings herself to her feet, nearly ripping door from hinges in her hurry to see. And when Dís looks up and spots the tiny twinned figures against the dispersing army (to small, it was too small where was everyone?), her heart seizes where it lays. It's a blank littany in the back of her mind, a dull wave that rises and crests until everything is just no nononononono--.

Thorin peels away, into the arms of the court, tarnished crown craddled in his hand and she keens with grief.

By the time Frerin struggles up the path, Dís flings herself out to meet him, tears pooling in her eyes and falling like raindrops, catching in the sideburns slowly growing into a beard. Her arms curl around him, careful but needing touch, needing reassurance he's there, and guides him back into their home that was too small for six but too big for three.

/weeps

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin is battle worn and weary, dirty and soaked in blood both his own and from others, enemies and other dwarves alike. Limping slightly, face streaked with tears and his eyes red, he can't hardly meet Dis' gaze.

How could he, just a small thing of 48, come back from a battle where his king had fallen? Survivor's guilt weighs heavy on the young dwarf's shoulders, weighing him down as effectively as the grief.

His heart goes out to his sister. What it must have been like, waiting for them to come home, he can't imagine. She holds him and he hides a wince in her shoulder, holds her back as best he can even though one arm hangs useless at his side. He'll have to be seen to, but the healers will be busy with others in far worse condition and Frerin just wants to be home.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles to her, though he's not sure in retrospect why he said it.

/cradles gently

[perdure]

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."

/cries into your shoulder

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin breathes. He's home. In one piece. Dis is here and Thorin is alive too. He tries to focus on that instead of the grief, or the pain throbbing steadily through his body. Oh, how he hurts. But he's alive. He made it, and that's far more than he had expected.

The trembling is something he can't stop. It started just before the battle and only got worse when Grandfather fell and Father could not be found. He feels...fragile, like a bowl with a spiderweb of cracks. Just one more thing and he'll fall apart completely. He's having a difficult enough time as it is.

Dis has always been strong, rock solid and on many an occasion, it's been her that Frerin has gone to instead of Thorin. Age matters little between them; they are both the elder and younger when occasion calls for it. And right now, it's Dis in charge, Dis being the older one, holding them together. Frerin needs that right now.

"I--" He almost apologizes again, but catches himself. "Thank you, sister."

The words sound hollow and Frerin hates himself for that. Dis deserves so much better but he's too broken to help her right now. He moves gingerly towards home, his bad arm hanging limp and pathetic.

"My bow broke," he says, his voice shaky.

/soothes

[perdure]

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."

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin doesn't like the silence. It's too quiet, too empty. This house should have more people in it. Thorin should be here.

He wants to talk but what is there to say? He desperately wants to reassure Dis but there's no words to give her that can make this any better.

Frerin sits down in the chair, head bowed as Dis bustles about getting everything ready. It reminds him so much of their mother, and he swallows hard, tears pricking at his eyes again. He takes a deep breath, hands shaking in his lap.

At Dis' touch, he finally raises his head, blue eyes glassy with tears. He lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, taking comfort in his sister for the moment.

Frerin glances at his useless arm before looking back at Dis, starting to pull off his shirt as best he can manage with one hand. "I think it's broken," he says softly, almost apologetically.

[perdure]

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.

[forgottenbrother]

There's gratitude in his eyes, even if he can't say it again without sounding too repetitive. Frerin sucks in another breath, a shiver running down his spine as Dis helps him undress. It hurts but he'll do his very best to be strong, to not show it.

The worry in Dis' eyes makes him frown, and he swallows, trying to make his breathing even out and ease the pain throbbing steadily through his arm and multiple wounds.

"It looks worse than it is," he tells her, and that, at least, is true. The few slashes across his torso are not very deep, thanks to his armor, though his ribs are starting to bruise and ugly purplish color. "I should have died out there."

[perdure]

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."

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin regrets the words immediately after speaking them. He touches Dis' chin with his good hand, biting his lip.

"...Forgive me, sister." He falls silent, watching her tend to him and wincing slightly.

Frerin is already anticipating the pain when his sister gently takes his wounded arm and looks away, trying to breathe evenly. He hisses out a soft curse when her fingers find the break but doesn't flinch away, knowing better than that now.

He looks back at her when she speaks, nodding at her assessment. "Can it wait? The healers will be busy."

He doesn't want to take any of their time if it means someone else will be suffering.

"Dis, I..." Words die on Frerin's tongue. He's not even sure what he wanted to say. All he can think about is the battle and how terrible it was, how many died around him and the way Thorin screamed when Grandfather was beheaded. He shudders and looks down.

[perdure]

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?"

[forgottenbrother]

Frerin's thumb brushes lightly over Dis' cheek before she pulls away. He gives her a tiny smile, the corners of his lips just barely twitching in an attempt to be reassuring. He's sure it doesn't work well.

He tries to breath shallowly as she treats and bandages his wounds, blue eyes fluttering closed. It hurts, but he'll try to focus on other things.

Instead his mind brings him back to the battle, watching dwarves fall left and right, friends and strangers alike, and oh Mahal when Grandfather was--

He opens his eyes with a soft gasp, trembling worse than ever now. He can't stop thinking about it, can't stop seeing all the dead. He can hardly imagine how terrifying it must have been for Thorin when Frerin had fainted on him, covered in blood as he'd been.

He looks up at Dis just as she starts to feel at his arm, not even hearing what she'd said in regards to setting the bone. Frerin's good hand curls into a fist and he bites back a curse when she nudges the bone into place, pain throbbing through his arm. He's strangely out of breath.

"Aye," he grunts, still catching his breath.