Frerin of Durin's Line

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ The second son of Thrain and heir of Durin ➵ Independent RP account ➵ Muse and Mun are 18+ ➵ Semi-selective ➵ Sideblog ➵ Serious risk of Durincest ⊹ Sidebar bg credit: sweetcrescent on deviantart ⊹ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

[theminttu]

The King beneath the mountains The King of carven stone The lord of silver fountains Shall come into his own

[captain-flint]

Middle-Earth Meme: Locations [5/5]

Azanulbizar (Dimrill Dale)

A name in the tongue of Men of the North for a great valley on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. The valley, which was part of the ancient Dwarf-kingdom of Khazad-dûm, is also called Nanduhirion in Sindarin and Azanulbizar in Khuzdul.

A bloody battle was fought in Dimrill Dale between Dwarves and the Orcs of Moria, in which the latter were defeated and their leader Azog killed. In T.A. 2989 Balin and his followers fought the orcs here on the way to Moria. Thirty years later the Fellowship of the Ring paused in the valley, having escaped from Moria and the loss of Gandalf.

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

                             ”Yeah! Plenty of places,”

But they were all with Evie. And now she just dragged herself through life, hopping from motel to motel, trying to find some meaning. But she never   did.   And   she  was a lone. The   droop in  her expression was obvious     ,    though     she       tried           not   to        linger        on     it.

“Went on a boat for a few  months and got sun burnt pretty bad. South of France…” Again, another twitch in her lip. She had nowhere to go, no reason to stay. “Other places. I just — Get on a train and see where it goes. Don’t really have a home so — Just keep moving.” 

[zabadith-blog]

          ❝Better than me,❞                                            Frerin teased, his smile falling a little flat.           ❝I never leave the damn house except for work and cigarettes.❞

Mostly because I’m not allowed to, was the unspoken afterthought and the blonde took a deep drag on his cigarette to hide the frown that arose, unbidden, at the bitter thought.

          ❝What’s eating you?❞                                                   He asked as he noticed the solemn expression on Ceri’s features, flicking the ash from the tip of his fag.

          ❝I mean, y’don’t have to tell me, but sometimes it’s good to talk to a complete stranger about your problems.❞

He’d dealt with enough ‘emotional’ clients to know how to listen to a sob story. The only difference here was that this was done out of concern and the ‘goodness of his heart’ as opposed to a wad of cash.

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

                            “No, I don’t really know anyone.”

It was always horrid, explaining that part. Reminding herself of how lonely she was, over and over again, whenever she met someone new. At least the smell of cigarettes and alcohol covered the scent of his blood.

 ”I’ve been travelling for a while,” — Over ten years — “Staying in some fancy hotel where everything on the menu is in French, and they don’t put milk in their tea. Its minging.”

[zabadith-blog]

          ❝Eugh.❞                           Frerin made a face at that.                                                                           ❝Sacrilege.❞

He’d never been a fan of the ‘high life’. Even though his previous line of work had paid well - incredibly so – he’d never sought the same kind of opulence his brother seemed to prefer.

                                                Instead wasting his fortune away on drink and drugs.

          ❝Been anywhere interesting?❞

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

“What?” Oh, names. Right. She nodded, smiling up at him

. “Ceri. Like Kerry, but— Not. Yeah. Nice to meet you.” She took another drag, before offering Frerin her hand.

                                  “I don’t live here. It’s well posh.”

"Oh, —Not that its bad! Just                       — not what I’m used to.”

[zabadith-blog]

          ❝I live here and m’still not used to it.❞                                                                               Frerin shrugged, accepting the offered hand.           ❝The price of fags is stupidly high too.❞                                                                                    He sighed, withdrawing his hand to pluck his cigarette out from between his lips with a wry smile.           ❝Normally I brave the walk into town, but couldn’t be arsed this morning. You here visiting someone?❞

The blonde knew he was babbling, but he seldom spoke to anyone outside of his brother and clients and... Well... She was nice.

              It was rare for anyone to be nice to Frerin, considering the company he kept.

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

           So will drinking, Ceri thought, able to smell the past week’s drink            on him. But it remained a thought, and she thanked him as she            placed a cigarette between her lips.

"I know. I’ll stop before they do, though." She passed the lighter back to him, dipping her head as she thanked him again, exhaling a lungful of fumes.

                                           ”Will power ‘nd that…”

[zabadith-blog]

          ❝I keep meaning to go cold turkey, but…❞                                                                                        Frerin trailed off with a small, self-deprecating smile.

         ❝Don’t have much in the way of willpower.❞

                                            Wasn’t that an understatement.

          ❝M’Frerin,❞                                He offered, taking another deep draw on his cigarette.

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

She left the shop, hands stuffed into her pockets to protect her from the cold, and luckily found a half-empty packet of cigarettes. She gave a sigh of relief, but once again became frustrated when she couldn’t a light.

Spotting the other, leaning against the wall, Ceri chewed on her lip. She wasn’t brave, certainly not brave enough to approach a stranger. The vampire approached, repeating in her head that she was stronger than any human, that she could fight him off if she had to.

                                                    “Excuse me, Sir,”

"Can I borrow a lighter please? The — Uh, shop won’t sell me anything.”

[zabadith-blog]

Frerin blinked up as a sweet sounding voice wafted through the haze of cigarette smoke and self-loathing that had settled over his mind.

The girl that approached him was young. Probably too young to smoke.                      Not that he cared. Much.

Fishing his lighter out of his jacket pocket, he passed it over to the stranger, blowing out another halo of smoke around his head.

          ❝You know those things will kill you, right?❞                                                                                           The blonde said, only half-joking and instantly regretting the words the moment they had left his mouth.

[bittxn-deactivated20160427]

                                        zabadith

Had Ceri been a little braver, she would have argued that the ID given was real. But, it wasn’t exactly true. It showed that she was ten years younger than she actually was.

                      Her babyface had made buying cigarettes a problem, and                       —- not wishing to cause a scene —- she tucked her ID into                       her purse, wished the shop keeper a nice day and turned to leave.

[zabadith-blog]

Frerin barely registered the dull aching in his head as he slumped back against the faded brick wall, not knowing – or caring – where he was as he pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket; sparking up and exhaling a lungful of smoke with a weary sigh.

He dare not go home for another few hours. Not until Thorin left to… Do whatever he did during the day that kept him out of that house.

Tucking his hands into his pocket and puffing on the filter clasped between his teeth, he eyed the shop across the road; half of him wondering if he should spend the money he’d… Earned… That night on a bottle of something to drown out the bone-deep misery that wouldn’t leave him alone.

[ex0skeletal]

Pro Tip: Instead of having feelings, try being dead inside. Everything is still horrible but you will not care at all.

[dxrins]

Visit Original Link

Dear rabbit My legs are getting weak chasing you The snow fields wouldn't seem so big if you knew That this blood on my teeth, it is far beyond dry And I've captured you once, but I wasn't quite right So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me Rabbit My claws are dull now so don't be afraid I could keep you warm as long as you can just try to be brave Yes I know I'm a wolf, and I've been known to bite But the rest of my pack, I have left them behind And my teeth may be sharp, and I've been raised to kill But the thought of fresh meat, it is making me ill So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me Me

[zabadith-blog]

➵ O P E N

[gcldenblood-blog]

Dis wrinkled her nose. She’d lost count of the amount of times she’d tried to hint at Frerin’s bad drinking habits. But of course, he wouldn’t notice it from her, and take it too personally when it came from the eldest.

"Oh, I am flattered that you don’t think I’m an arse.” The princess muttered, reajusting her grip. Times like those made her wish she had an extra few inches of height, to at least be tall enough to guide Frerin by his shoulders. But she settled for tugging him around by his arm. “You’re not an arse, but you are acting like one. More so when you drink, nadad.”

[zabadith-blog]

"You wound me, namadel." Frerin sighed in mock offence, sagging slightly against his sister as they walked.

"I always drink, does that mean I'm always an arse? But then you just said I wasn't an arse... But I have been drinking so does that then mean I am an arse again? I'm confused..." The elder's brows furrowed and he frowned down at his feet.

"Am I drunk or just stupid?" He asked, giving Dis a truly pitiful look as he swayed slightly on his feet.

[zabadith-blog]

CLOSED: dxrins

[dxrins]

Thorin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand pushing the door shut. The movement was gentle and contrary to the angered glint in his eyes. It always started like this. Thorin became possessive, furious. He knew what hot showers meant. He didn’t need to see the marks on his brother.

"You speak as if the high-necked shirt isn’t a dead give-away," Thorin snarled, slowly approaching the bedside, as a jaguar stalks its prey. "I had faith in you. Have you forgotten all I have done for you? Everything I suffered through for you? Even my organs aren’t good enough. It’s a waste, giving organs to people like you, when innocent children die waiting for them."

The elder lowered himself down into the chair at Frerin’s desk, turning it to face the younger. “Was one innocent life not enough for you, nadad?”

[zabadith-blog]

Frerin winced at the sound of the door clicking shut, his breath hitching slightly at the knowledge of what was to follow the deceptively calm gesture. He squeezed his eyes shut as his brother advanced, his cruel words lingering like the bites mottling his skin even as he tried to block them out.

Every syllable Thorin uttered was like another nail in the coffin, driving him further and further into himself until the elder’s voice was nothing more than a faint humming in the background.

          He was not himself, he could feel nothing. He could cope with anything like this; any pain, any violation Thorin could deal out.

But the peace wouldn’t last for long. His brother was an expert in scraping away Frerin’s composure, leaving him shredded and exposed like a festering wound.

          Innocent life…                                      Frerin’s hands shook as he pressed his palms flat over his eyes, pushing down hard until sparks of colour flew back and forth behind his clenched eyelids.

But he could still see the dark, sluggish trickle of blood from the infants skull, could still hear the Mother screaming, could still hear his pulse pounding in his head as terror took hold.

“Don’t.” He pleaded with his brother, his voice hoarse. Frerin didn’t know what he was begging for.

Don’t speak.                         Don’t touch me.                                                       Don’t hate me.                                                                                   Don’t leave.

[zabadith-blog]

CLOSED: dxrins

[dxrins]

Thorin returned late. If his exhausted state wasn’t proof enough, the dry ring of crusted blood around his nostrils and a dust in his stubble definitely was. Slipping back into old habits came too easily to the elder, but it didnt ease the come down. He felt filthy, white shirt ruined by sweat marks, hair matted, belt remaining unbuckled around his hips.

Tired legs carried him to his en-suit, where he tugged off his shirt and belt, reaching a hand into the shower and turning it on. His hand remained under the spray, which remained cold for far too long. After checking that he had actually turned up the temperature, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"There are five boilers in this house." Thorin told his brother as he stepped into his room, a long day of binging evident in his features. "And you used all of the hot water. Am I supposed to believe you were the only one here?"

[zabadith-blog]

“I’ve only been home for a few hours.” Frerin mumbled into his pillow, not daring to face his brother as he shifted slightly underneath the thick duvet, twisting onto his back to avoid putting pressure on the bruises littering his ribs from the last time Thorin had been in his room.        The elder tended to avoid him when he wasn’t planning on using his favourite fucktoy.

“I’ve been alone the whole time.” It wasn’t a lie, he would never dare bring clients back to Thorin’s house “I had a long shower earlier, and the dishwasher’s on downstairs.” He offered as a means of explanation, hoping his brother would accept it and leave.

The elder’s possessive nature knew no bounds when it came to Frerin. Despite the fact that he fucked other people, the same ‘courtesy’ wasn’t extended to his little brother and he knew that the moment Thorin caught sight of the bite marks littering his body… Those little throbbing bruises would be the least of the aches wracking his body once his brother was through with him.

[zabadith-blog]

➵ O P E N

[gcldenblood-blog]

“Now is not the time for this,” Dis hissed, shoving the elder through the door, slamming it with an angry movement of her wrist. She took hold of his upper arm as they walked down the dusty path, made only by the footsteps of thirsty Dwarves and Men. “Father loves you as much as he does me, you know that. And we’re both spares. Stop behaving like a child.”

She shook her head at him. In truth, she often felt the same, but only from her grandfather— Thrain had been nothing but generous when it came to his daughter, and had showered her in affection and beautiful things. But there was somehow still an air of favouritism that would never quite shift. “Thorin’s ego is large enough, you needn’t praise him as Thror’s favourite.”

[zabadith-blog]

Frerin snorted at that, staggering back slightly - only kept upright by Dis' iron-clad grip on his bicep.

"Thorin is an arse." He nodded fervently, his usual sunny grin replaced by an uncharacteristically solemn expression "This morning, he told me to stay away from the tavern again. Me. As though 'm'some beardless whelp that can't hold their ale."

The last word was punctuated by a body-wracking hiccup, and the blonde dwarf beamed at his sister as he leaned a head on her shoulder.

"Not like you. You're not an arse, Dis."

[acumine-blog]

OKAY SO my wonderful, beautiful, fantabulous, amazing girlfriend is coming to stay with me for the start of summer so I’m putting the following blogs on a semi-hiatus kinda thing until 4th August

-  acumine -  vxtus -  vextas-bello -  zabadith

[zabadith-blog]

➵ O P E N

[gcldenblood-blog]

“I did. This morning.” She was loosing her patience now, arms folded across an ale soaked chest. Dis was beginning to question why she even allowed her brother to pull her out so late. More often than not, she was punished for it. More severly than her brothers, though Thorin rarely left the forge.

"Frerin," She sighed offering her hand. Hopefully a more gentle approach would help. But if there was one thing Dis lacked, it was finesse. "Please, come. We have to leave. It’ll be light soon, father may be searching for us."

[zabadith-blog]

"Father? Why would Father come looking for me?" Frerin barked out a bitter laugh as he shook his head, leaning heavily against the dripping table top.

" 'M not Thorin. I'm the 'spare'." The young prince gestured dramatically at the last word; his arms flailing as he staggered forward, heading for the tavern door and wincing as his face connected with the worn wooden frame "How did that get there?"

[zabadith-blog]

➵ O P E N

[gcldenblood-blog]

Dis’ eyes widened in horror at her brother’s antics. “No—Frerin—!” She reached out, trying to make him force the garment back on, but it was quite evident that he wasn’t going to listen to her. She only stared at the garment, which already had more than it’s fair share of ale soaked into it. She couldn’t help but feel offended as she looked at the tunic, her jaw jutting forward in a show of annoyance. “I know. I bought that for you.”

She shook her head as she stood, the puddle that had collected between her legs falling to the ground before her. “You’ve had enough, a bath is what you need.” She tugged her hood around her shoulders, fastening it at her neck. “You’re escorting me home. Mahal have mercy if grandfather sees you like this.”

[zabadith-blog]

"You did?" Frerin's brows drew together in contemplation as he pondered Dis' words "No you didn't... Did you?" He stared up at her in confusion, his blue eyes wide as she all but ordered him to leave; silently pleading with her to let him say.

The more rational part of his mind - the part not clouded by ale and whatever strange substance had been in Grif's pipe - wondered why he was begging her permission when he was the elder.

"But I'm not ready to leave yet!" He protested, even as he pulled himself to his feet, albeit unsteadily.