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”But uncle!”
“No ‘buts’, Frerin. It is absolutely out of the question!”
Fíli cannot help but worry at the sound of the voices of his uncle and eldest son. Frerin and Thorin rarely quarrelled, in fact he cannot remember them doing so since Frerin had expressed a wish to start training with Dwalin. Thorin’s strong dislike of the idea had long since been replaced by pride when he discovered his grandnephew’s skill with the crossbow (He had proclaimed to everyone who cared to listen, and those who did not, that his grandnephew’s marksmanship nearly exceeded that of the Bard the Bowman, and certainly that of Thranduil’s bratty son).
Fíli hesitates on the threshold of the chamber for a few seconds more, before entering. The scene before him would look relatively peaceful with Thorin sitting behind his desk, bent over a pile of documents, quill in hand were it not for the fuming dwobbit that stood before the desk, arms crossed and tapping one booted foot in a manner that reminded Fíli very much of Billa. Frerin was staring at Thorin in a way Fíli was sure was supposed to be murderous, but looked rather harmless, if not comical in Fíli’s opinion.
“Ah, Fíli. Good of you to join us,” Thorin said through gritted teeth, without looking up from the document he was studying. “Perhaps you could explain my grandnephew why it is entirely unnecessary of him to accompany Balin to renegotiate the trade agreement with Dale.”
Fíli felt entirely flabbergasted for a few moments; he looked back and forth between Thorin and Frerin, whose mouth had tightened to a thin line at his uncle’s statement.
“Father,” Frerin hissed, his voice loaded with mock sweetness, “How wonderful of you to show up. Perhaps you might explain my dear uncle the importance of me accompanying Balin to Dale, and actually gaining some real political experience.”
Fíli opened his mouth to say something to calm both his uncle and his son but was cut short by Thorin, who finally lifted his gaze from his desk to stare at Frerin.
“And while you’re at it, you might also want to enlighten your son on the dangers of going on such an unnecessary trip. Not to mention that the affairs of a kingdom like Erebor is not to be handled by mere children!”
Both Fíli and Frerin’s jaws dropped at the last statement and Fíli barely had the time to close his mouth before Frerin was spitting an answer back at his uncle.
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to inform the king, that if he think me so incapable of handling political tasks, then he might reconsider requiring my presence at every damn council meeting or perhaps do me a favour and have Master Balin stop lecturing me on the affairs of his kingdom!”
Frerin turned on his heel before his uncle could shoot back an answer and stormed past Fíli. He stopped at the door and whirled around, facing his father and uncle again.
“And you may also tell him,” Frerin sneered, though Fíli could hear the tears in his voice, “That I am sorry that he think me such a disappointment as both a nephew and a prince.” He then turned around and slammed the door, leaving Thorin gaping at the door.
“Was that really necessary?” Fíli demanded.
Thorin sighed tiredly, and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand.
“I did not mean it like that! How could he think I am…that I could ever be...” Thorin did not finish the sentence, instead choosing to hide his face in his hands completely
Fíli walks over to the desk, and let himself fall down into a spare chair.
“Why does he have to be so stubborn? I am merely concerned for his safety.” His uncle mumbles, his words muffled by his hands.
“Perhaps if you explained that to him instead of sneering at him, he might understand.” Fíli remarked.
Thorin looked at him through his fingers.
“Don’t you think that I tried?” he asked dryly.
“Forgive me, uncle, but I don’t think calling him a child and implying that he is not capable of surviving a short trip to Dale is the best way to express your concern for him.”
Thorin snorts in response, and leans back in his chair, sulking in a way that was achingly familiar of Frerin.
“Could you not speak to him? Explain to him why he cannot go?”
Fíli shrugs.
“I suppose that I could. If it were not for the fact that I agree with Frerin.”
Thorin opens his mouth to protest, but Fíli holds up a hand to stop him. He knows that it is risky behaviour but he might just be the only person, besides Balin, Billa and his mother capable of talking some sense into Thorin, without sweet-talking him at the same time.
“Uncle. Frerin loves you, perhaps more than anyone in the world. He just want to impress you, to show you that he can do all the things that you think him capable of. He just want to prove himself. Why not give him the chance?”
Thorin looks at him, pensively for a few moments, before sighing in defeat.
“Perhaps you are right, Fíli. I shall think on it.”
Fíli bows his head at him in thanks and rises from his chair, moving towards the door.
“One more thing, uncle.” he added over his shoulder. Thorin looked up at him.
“Do me a favour, and talk to Frerin about this, yourself.”
Fíli swaggered out of the chamber in his usual cheerful manner.
X
A week later, Frerin and Balin set out for Dale with a small group of officials. To his credit, the young prince did not complain about the small army of guards that followed them.