#ereborcest

And Frerin screamed as the goblin’s spear pierced his side, breaking through his battered armor – warm, wet blood soaking his undershirt, seeping through his jerkin–

He fell to the ground as the shock of pain overwhelmed him; heard his father, sister, brother screaming, all of them screaming – were they dying? Was he dying? Surely he must be...

And Dís, he saw her fall, saw her staring with wide, unseeing eyes, dulled by death. Covered in blood. Thorin on his other side; hair matted and tangled and torn; his sword arm severed--

The sound of harsh, ugly laughter echoed in his head, the pale orc standing over him with that twisted grin, raising his weapon and swinging it down-

“Frerin!”

He opened his eyes, tears streaking down his cheeks. Dís leaned over him, worry etched into every part of her face, alive. She smoothed his sweat-soaked hair away from his brow in slow, repetitive motions. “You’re safe,” she murmured. “You’re all right. Fetch some water,” she said to someone behind her; Frerin heard the sound of footsteps fading off.

“Dís…” He tried to reach up, stroke her cheek, but his hand trembled too much, and felt far too heavy. Frerin dropped it back down onto the bed. “I thought… I saw you there, but you were-”

“Shh,” Dís said. Footsteps came closer, louder, and then there was Thorin – alive, both of them alive – who sat down on Frerin’s other side, a cup of water in hand. He set it down on the side table before he and Dis helped their brother sit up.

“Here,” Thorin said, and he passed the cup to Frerin, who drank it gratefully. As he did so, Dís lightly ran her fingernails along his back, up and down in circles. It made him shiver and his shoulders relaxed.

Just a dream, Frerin thought. Only a dream – his elder brother and little sister, alive and well and whole right here in front of him. But the thoughts images still flashed before him and clouded his mind.

Frerin rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder. "Do you want to tell us about the dream?" asked Dís. “Only if it suits you, though.”

“I’d rather not. Not now.”

All right," Thorin said. Dís lifted her head, pressed a kiss to the place where Frerin’s neck and jaw met. Things had been different as of late between the three of them, had been ever since…

He knew that Thorin dealt with much the same nightmares and memories as himself. Both of them did their best to keep it from their sister; they didn’t need to burden Dís with such things.

“You know we’re here if you need us. But…”

“We can go if you want.”

Frerin shook his head. “No. Please. Stay.” He despised feeling weak--he was the one who had to hold them all together, after all; the one who did everything he could to raise their spirits. Being so vulnerable like this in front of them made Frerin nearly start to twist away. Almost made him turn his head, tell them he was fine, send them back to their rooms and leave him to face his nightmares alone.

But he didn’t. Instead he let Thorin and Dís press him down onto the bed, cover him in soft, light kisses that made his skin tingle. A shudder moved slowly up his spine at the way their hands tangled in his hair as they slid his tunic up and pulled it over his head. Gooseflesh rose on his arms at the slight chill on his bare skin.

Calloused fingers skimmed along his chest while softer ones traced the soft swell of his lips. His breath came short and shallow as two other hands moved down, and down further still until they brushed along his inner thighs.

Two voices whispered in his ears, asking for permission, which he gave with no hesitation. Then those mouths dragged along his cheeks, their breaths dry and ragged. Those fingers inched their way up along the creases of his hips. Frerin tipped his head back, unable to hold back a moan.

Let us take care of you.

His trousers were stripped away gently and he tried to touch them both. It was only with small breaths of laughter. The fabric of their clothes brushed against his bare flesh.

His name was on their lips, theirs was on his; his nightmares slipped away, chased off by the careful, easy way Thorin and Dís held him and touched him. They took him in hand, both as once, and Frerin sobbed. He knew that the visions of blood and death and battle would return, but right now it was only them. Only them.

Let us take care of you.

They washed over him like cresting waves of the siren. He was held, he was caressed, he was consumed by heat. His hips rolled up; Frerin wanted more, so he asked. Rarely had he asked for anything from them, but now – now he knew he could ask. He did not take. Freely asked, freely given, and now it all fell back into place.

Let us take care of you.

At last, his voice rose to cracked heights and he moaned brokenly. Thorin and Dís held him through it, never once letting go as his body shook and he spilled his seed over their hands.

They did not move for several long moments. Only when they felt Frerin’s breathing calm, his heartbeat slow, did Thorin stand and leave the room. Dís held Frerin close and smoothed his brow with her hands and with kisses. Thorin returned shortly with a damp cloth that he wiped over at every part of Frerin’s skin, leaving for last the sticky mess along Frerin’s thighs. Afterwards Dís and Thorin both wiped at their hands and tossed the cloth to the side of the bed as Frerin pulled on his smallclothes. It didn’t take long for his brother and sister to undress as well. Thorin held him from behind, his arms wrapped over Frerin’s shoulders and hip, one hand resting on Dís’ shoulder. Dís was at his front, her soft flesh pressed against him, warming the cold that had taken root deep in Frerin’s bones. He traced his fingers along the swell of her breast, her hip, a soft sigh escaping past her lips.

“Tomorrow,” she breathed. “Right now, you should rest.”

Frerin closed his eyes. The comforting heat of their bodies, the tangle of limbs that held him safe between his brother and sister--it was enough to chase away the nightmares...for now.