Ā Ā Ā it was never an easy thing to pull thorin away from the responsibilities that burdened him come sunrise to sunset, often he would watch his brother speaking with the scholars, advisers and diplomats, meeting and escorting honored guests from beyond ereborās gates through their halls, all of it a fine line between politics and negotiations, never able to truly let his guard down when so many eyes were on him and so many expectations were laid at his feet. frerin had never envied thorin, never wished to switch places, he felt most comfortable where he was as the second son but that didnāt mean that he felt nothing at all.
Ā Ā ā donā look at me, iām just the messenger. āĀ frerin claimed, holding both his hands palms up in feigned surrender, the lie had been easy to drop over the last couple of days -- white lies and fibs whispered and murmured into the right ears until word had reached the kings hall of the emissaries of dale awaiting the presence of the prince outside the gates of erebor. it wouldnāt be the first time that they had negotiated a meeting with the royal durins, with the right slights of hand, frerin could make the lie believable in slipping through the cracks of so many of thorinās responsibilities.
ā you donā have to worry about it, iāve got the gift right here, all you have to do is show up and look pretty. āĀ frerin grinned, slapping thorin affectionately on the cheek before bounded backwards and out of reach, laughing as he done so, ā cāmon! donā want to be late! āĀ //Ā @lonereborāĀ semi - plottedĀ starter
