The Halls of Erebor

Violence

The following days passed with little to no events of interest. Frin continued to ride alongside Balin on the wagon. The evenings became quieter. The stories were fewer and Frin swore Thorin was pretending she didn't exist. In the darkness, she would awaken to his touch. Sometimes his hand would be placed on her hip, others his arms would pull her tight against his chest. Every night, she would tell herself it could never be real. It was just a dream which existed in a world different from their own.

When they arrived in the Iron Hills Thorin commanded they turn around and head immediately back to Erebor. Their wagon only came within sight to the dwarven lands before turning around.

Two days into the return journey, when the sun was high in the sky but covered by a thick layer of overcast, Balin turned to her. "Are you alright Lass?" His voice was soft and quiet. "You've been quieter than usual."

For a moment Frin debated not answering him or lying, but she needed someone to talk to. The words seem to burst out of her troubled thoughts. "I...I just don't know if I belong with all of you." She sighed looking at her hands sitting in her lap.

"What makes you say that Lass." Balin voiced his concern.

"I have always thought of myself as more dwarf than elf but I am beginning to realize dwarves will only ever see me as an elf." Frin felt ashamed for her sudden lack of confidence. "My ears make me obvious to all who notice. If it wasn't for them, I would just be a weak dwarf, a little scrawny."

"It is 'cause they don't know you." There was a small, reassuring smile on the older dwarf's face. "Everyone makes assumptions when they first meet a person but time with them changes those assumptions."

Frin exhalled through her nose, a small false smile on her mouth. "I suppose that is true." She could feel Balin staring at her, studying her. She felt extremely exposed, realizing he was able to see her so plainly.

"There is a certain someone you are referring to." It was a statement made Frin's stomach sink.

She offered a small nod.

"You father is a Lord. Surely a dwarf can overlook certain parts of your heritage in favor of others." He was trying to be reassuring.

"He has a tremendous amount of responsibility and pressure from family." Frin spoke, willing the pain not to surface. "My father is not so high in rank for my mixed blood to be ignored," she paused absentmindedly touching her ear. "Anyway, his family would never allow it."

Balin gave her an understanding look. "Families often come in the way. Is it what you want, to be married, me a lady...forgive me Lass." He shrugged slightly. "You don't strike me as a woman who takes easily to domestic life."

Frin hadn't really thought about it. Without Thorin as an option, she didn't want to be tied to anyone. "Only him." She stated. "I cannot imagine being tied to anyone. Forced to be a wife. He understands me...I think...He wouldn't force me to be anything other than myself."

"You want to be free."

"Yes."

"Lass." He took one hand off the reins to pat her shoulder. "Do whatever it is that will bring you joy. Yes, there is heartache and pain but that's life. This dwarf, whoever he is, because of his obligations is allowing you freedom." He paused. "Imagine you married him, with all his responsibility and obligation, how much of that would become yours?"

Frin allowed his words to settle in her mind. No matter how much she desired Thorin, she did not want the responsibility that came with being with him publicly. To act with decorum, follow the rules, to have a duty to the people of Erebor was all too much. It was terrifying."