Balin son of Fundin

Reblog if you are proud of your URL

"Aye, we have indeed."

"Good evening." "Yes. Yes, it is. Though, I think it might rain later."

"Balin…" Thorin let out a relieved breath, his eyes a little lost. "I have…made a grave mistake." 

"Mistake? On what?" a frown furrowed the white eyebrows as Balin eyed the one before him. It was indeed strange that Thorin had arrived to his doorsteps at this hour, seeming so very concerned. Balin rubbed his own, sleepy face with his hand, shoving off the last drops of sleep

"I do not wish to speak of it in the open…" he helped himself into Balin’s house, assuming that it would be alright with his old friend (whether or not he was right). "It is… " Thorin ran his face over his hand, trying to find the words. "The elf king…Thranduil I…"

So Balin stepped aside, of course letting his friend enter. He moved next to the dim, dying fire in the fireplace and offered Thorin a seat. "Yes? What of the Woodland King, Thorin?" the younger blinked curiously, leaning forward toward his king.

"Balin…" Thorin let out a relieved breath, his eyes a little lost. "I have…made a grave mistake." 

"Mistake? On what?" a frown furrowed the white eyebrows as Balin eyed the one before him. It was indeed strange that Thorin had arrived to his doorsteps at this hour, seeming so very concerned. Balin rubbed his own, sleepy face with his hand, shoving off the last drops of sleep