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[ The video starts to the image of a clearing in the midst of trees, in the distance a mountain range with snowy peaks frames the picture. At the centre of the shot, two men call to attention, or rather, two dwarves. One easily recognizable, with his dark hair and short beard, even without the white streaks or as many wrinkles counted on his face - it is Thorin. The other, perhaps an inch taller than him, hair lighter but by only a little, and a smile wide and easy on his face, looking younger though not by much.

The taller one aims, with a bow and arrow in hand, at a marking on a tree nearby. A second of silence, and he releases the arrow, sending it flying right past the tree. Thorin's mouth twitches into a smile, and he sounds most amused when he says. ]

You do understand you are meant to hit the centre of that mark.

[ The other dwarf, puffing his cheeks in a manner most childish, shrugs at Thorin as if this had been his plan all along. ] I know. This is just practice. I will be a master bowman in no time, you will see.

[ With that, he retrieves another arrow, stretches the bow once again. This time the arrow does land on the tree, though as far from the mark as one could possibly get. A soft chuckle is heard, and though on the video it is not seen, it is a clear sound from Thorin. ] You are terrible at this.

[ The last taunt to be exchanged, the taller dwarf all but shoves the bow onto Thorin's hands, then gestures dramatically at their impromptu target. ] Really? Well, let us see you do better if you can!

[ At first, Thorin does nothing but stare between his companion and the weapon in his hand. But then, with a resigned sigh of someone who is clearly used to this kind of thing from before, he takes the bow, pulls an arrow from the other's quiver and gets into position. A second, a deep breath, and when he releases, the arrow pierces right at the center of the mark.

A moment of silence passes, then finally the taller turns to the other, mouth still hanging open before he simply lifts his hands up in a shrug. ] ... you are the most infuriating brother I could ever have.

[ At that, Thorin's expression opens into a wide grin, and of all things, he laughs genuinely as he hands the bow back to his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. ]

I will tell you this, little brother: all things worth having in life will come difficult to you. Were this easy, anyone could do it.

[ A smile soft still remains on his features as he squeezes both his brother's shoulders reassuringly, and finally that pout from earlier disappears, bright expression returning to the taller one. Then Thorin lets go and takes another step back, gesturing at the tree once more. ] As you said, this is practice.

[ With that, the tallest turns back to his practice, while Thorin looks on in silence for now - or until he misses the mark again, perhaps. ]

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[ Look how endearing, how quaint! It is not a good thing at all that something, or someone, is plucking memories out of their heads and showing them all to see. Yet... among all the grief and suffering, this is peaceful. Though bittersweet. ]

Ah, but he does laugh and smile! And so delightful at that.

[ A beat of a pause, then: ]

And when he does, wise words follow.

[ Many words come to mind to the breach of his privacy, the invasion of his own mind and memories this broadcast has been, and neither endearing nor quaint feature on that extensive list. And that it is for all to see just as well, that even those he would not ever share these memories in word get to see them as if playing before them at this very moment, has Thorin ignoring the locket for a few good hours, otherwise he would just crush the thing under his boot out of sheer rage.

When he replies, it is in a low tone, nearly a growl, but a subdued one. ]

Everyone laughs and smiles. Just because one would not spare such things to you, it does not mean they are incapable of it.

Edited 2014-07-17 18:04 (UTC)

[ How rude, Thorin, and he offered a compliment even! But no matter, this attitude bothers him none. ]

Indeed, that would be correct. Nonetheless, it was most fascinating to witness, undeserving of it as I may be.

[ He does offer a smile of his own, and despite his words, it's not a bitter one in the slightest. ]

[ In this case, it truly is a defensive mechanism more than it is anything else. All the more so considering who he is speaking to right at this moment. ]

Not by my own choice, as I am sure you realize.

[ Silence feels heavy in his tongue. Lastly, he adds. ]

It matters little whether one is deserving or not. This is not a memory I would have shared willingly, not with anyone.

[ And now here he feels traces of guilt seeping in for intruding on something that ought to have been private. ]

I do. It is a beautiful memory, having had it shared does not lessen that one bit. [ Despite his earlier teasing, now he means every word. ] Though for my part, I offer my apologies for intruding upon it.

[ Good he does, then. That was the reason why Thorin said that in the first place.

However, when the apology comes, he does not know what to do with it, so silence follows for a while after. ]

Your apology is accepted. [ Words reluctantly spoken. ]

[ He's silent for a moment after this, before finally: ]

Cherish this memory, though I do not think it something you must be told.

It spares being said, indeed.

[ There is a reason, he thinks, that out of all the memories this was the one to be chosen after all. ]

Family is not something dwarves tend to forget, even with time or death. Most especially then.

[ It is startling, just a little, to realise this is a trait their people share. Legolas finds himself bemused. ]

An admirable trait, though it comes as no surprise to me. All the same, I do not suppose you are willing to share much more than you have been forced to share.

[ A long silence follows after the words. A request, in a way, though veiled as an assumption, and Thorin has half the mind to close the locket right then and there.

But then he speaks, words pained but sharp, clear. ]

His name was Frerin. He died in Azanulbizar. [ Another pause, though much shorter. ] He was little more than a child.

[ Sympathy and grief mixes together in his voice, when he finally responds appropriately profound. ]

It is the worst fate for the ones so bright and full of life to be taken by war, so young too.

[ It reminds him of the fates of Thorin's own nephews, but Legolas holds his tongue. This is not the time or place, in fact not a single time or place will likely ever be suited for this revelation. ]

A terrible loss, you have my condolences late as they may be.

[ And offer no comfort at all. ]

[ No comfort comes, in fact the ache may be greater, but he says nothing to the words. It is something that Thorin has resigned himself with for a long time now, that his family is a cursed one, by adversity and war, by madness and death ever floating above their heads. It would be a wonder that he has not yet seen it happen this time, if one would not know of the gold already clouding his mind, even without him knowing it.

It is how it is. Peace was never meant for him, and happiness he only regards as an ever passing thing. The only thing he hopes for is that he will find it for his nephews, unknown to himself how their fates are too cursed. ]

Now you know. [ At least of the circumstances of Frerin's death, though his life mustn't be terribly difficult to imagine either, from this memory alone. ] If your curiosity is satisfied, I will take my leave now.

[ There is no more for him to say, and no words to offer comfort. It's not his place, and he doubts Thorin would accept such from him anyway, no matter how almost amicable their conversations have been, bickering aside. What he can offer is the time alone that he so clearly wishes for. ]

Of course. Be well until next we meet.

[ Another silence, Thorin considering a response for a moment, but in the end, all has been said, and he spares no courtesies this time. With a click of the locket, the feed ends. ]

[It's hard not to watch that, as personal as he knows it is, and have a smile brought to his face. Seeing Thorin smile was a treat on its own, knowing the reason behind it.

The first and last time he saw Thorin using a bow and arrow was in Mirkwood when he completely missed his mark then; not that Bilbo could blame him, considering their situation at that time.]

A master of all arts I see. What out there can't you do?

[ Bilbo, at the very least, is a much better choice to see this, had he had any. Not that it brings much comfort to him, but unlike the answer from the elf, this one sounds very different. There is no taunt, well-meaning or otherwise, but simply words that Thorin sees as a welcome change of subject, away from something he does not wish to talk about. ]

Gardening ought to be one, Mister Baggins.

[He smiles warmly.]

You have yet to kill those sprouts we planted! In fact they're very healthy considering their caretaker is a first-time gardener.

Although I do admit I am curious to see how your cooking skills fare.

Only because you tend to them just as much.

[ He sincerely doubts they would last this long had he been taking care of them on his own. ]

I can cook meat. [ Yes, that's it. ]

Oh, I help here and there but not with much! It is your share of the garden after all.

[He snorts quietly, not at all surprised.]

Nothing else? Well that won't do at all.

[ A pause follows that last remark, though despite his words, he does not sound overly offended. ]

I beg your pardon.

Mhm! [He huffs audibly.] You cannot survive on meat and potatoes alone, Thorin. There is so much to learn about the art of cooking, you can't just limit yourself to knowing how to cook meat decently! Or even semi-decently in your case.

I suppose I can teach you how to cook as well. Perhaps you'll find it even more rewarding than gardening. [Although he can't imagine how.]

Whatever do you mean by 'semi-decently'.

[ Said with the proper amount of offense, and yet a hint of amusement, extending itself to his next few words. ]

I was under the impression that hobbits enjoyed cooking for other people.

[ See, why does he need to learn. ]

Exactly that. It certainly isn't the best cooking I've had. [And he would know.]

Oh we do! But it's also important to know how to cook for yourself as well, seeing that I won't always be around to make you a meal whenever I feel up to it.

Learning how to cook is just as important as learning how to swing a sword or... shoot an arrow - a necessary life lesson!

Excuse your Lordship that I could not gather the best conditions to prepare meat in the wild, during the few times we managed to find shelter and rest during our long journey.

[ Spoken with the proper amount of sarcasm, clearly not a heartfelt apology in the least. ]

I see. And can you... swing a sword or shoot an arrow, Master Baggins? Because if you think it so important to teach me how to cook, then perhaps I ought to teach you how to wield that small blade of yours in return. [ A pause. ] A necessary life lesson.

I can hardly fault you for the conditions we were forced to work in. You are excused. [He fights back a teasing smile, knowing full well Thorin isn't the least bit apologetic.]

... Oh. Um- [Well this backfired.] Actually, I have asked for Kili to teach me archery, but if that offer is sincere I don't see a need in wasting it... [Because he knows he should learn how to swing a blade just as much as he should learn how to shoot an arrow. The burns on his wrists start to itch faintly.]

So then it is settled. I teach you how to cook and in return you may teach me how to use a blade, yes?

[ He says no more to the teasing, though it is clear it has reached him just the same with the soft yet audible sigh he lets out. ]

Then my offer is sincere. I will teach you to wield your sword, at the very least. It will do you better if you know how to use it.

[A better sign than none at all.]

Well... Thank you, Thorin. [He smiles down at the locket.] I do appreciate this.

I think it ought to have been better to teach you while we were traveling. But it its better now than never.

[ Not that Bilbo had not managed regardless of lack of practice, but still. ]

[Kili still has yet to leave his room, though he watches the locket and the memories shared through them. This one comes as a surprise indeed, and he's quiet for a long moment before speaking. It's a treat to see his uncle Frerin. Fili and Kili learned long ago it was best not to speak of him. It made people so sad to think of what became of the prince.]

I would have liked to know him.

[ After the two first replies, it was only a matter of time until one of his nephews did too, Thorin knew that. So when Kíli's response comes, he'd had more or less the time to prepare himself for it at least, though it made it any easier.

Still, he answers only in voice, not wanting to look anyone in the face at the moment just yet. ]

And he would have liked to know you, Kíli. You and your brother both.

[Kili is quiet for a few moments before speaking again.]

No one ever talks about him.

[ He should have expected the words to come eventually, after a broadcast such as this one. From Kíli especially, whom was not so prone to be discreet or to keep his thoughts to himself.

Nonetheless, it makes it no easier to reply to. ]

No, we do not. It was a long time ago.

[ And yet never long enough for the pain to truly leave their hearts. ]

[Kili pauses another moment, wanting to speak but knowing he probably ought not to. Curiosity wins out in the end.]

Did he ever become a master bowman?

[ Yet strangely so, Thorin is not as reluctant about continuing on this topic, despite still being clearly upset. ]

He did not.

[ Said curtly, with a sour taste of loss to it. ]

He learned how to aim better, but that was it. He never became as skilled as you are.

[Kili's quiet for a moment before speaking.]

I'm sorry, Uncle.

It is not your fault, Kíli.

[ Simply another tragedy of their line, like a curse that Thorin has been hoping to see change with his nephews at the very least. ]

[It feels vaguely wrong to watch this, a memory that Fíli doubts his uncle wants out there for anyone and everyone to see, for all that it is only a bittersweet glimpse of his younger days. Yet watch it he does, from beginning to end, something that he and Kíli often wondered, a question that skirted near-forbidden ground, now satisfied at last.

What was Uncle Frerin like?

Judging by the exchange that plays out on the locket, the uncle they never had the chance to know may have been Thorin's Kíli in some ways -- bright, carefree, stubbornly competitive. Had he seen battle before Azanulbizar? Was he a master bowman when he fell?

The locket sits on Fíli's palm afterwards, silent as he gazes down at it. His other hand lowers, only to land in a plate of cold food he tried to use to coax Kíli out from his room. Instead of any appropriate response, a splodge of a magic ink stain is the first thing sent Thorin's way.]

Maker--

[ Fíli's response comes, one he had expected along with Kíli's. He knows neither of them would pass on a broadcast made by Thorin, and he does not blame them for seeing it to its end once they started.

The answer from his older nephew, however, is an oddly short one, and without any logic as far as his own memory is concerned. So Thorin's response is both a confused and inquisitive one. ]

What do you mean.

[He might as well own up to watching that memory (and to the strange message sent), so he rethinks writing, switching to letting Thorin see his face, even if he probably looks uncharacteristically disheveled.]

The locket... [A pause.] I saw you and Uncle Frerin.

[ Despite the switch to video, Thorin opts for voice only instead. He would rather not show his face, even to his nephews, and to that end the locket's functions prove of some use.

Still, he does not know what to say to it. ]

I am aware of that. [ A second, and he shifts to a different topic for now. ] How is Kíli?

[Following Thorin's lead, Fíli responds in the same manner then. He doesn't question his uncle's choice, nor the abrupt change of subject; Thorin has his reasons.

It was a long time ago that he and Kíli last tried to press for something, anything more about their uncle's younger brother, but Fíli remembers those attempts, how they went.

The option to speak without seeing each other does make it easier to answer when Thorin asks after Kíli, although Fíli's reply comes after a few seconds or so, quiet.]

There's been no change. [Not for the better, in any case. I don't know what to do is a faint note in the words. He could break down Kíli's door, tear the walls to rubble, take his brother's star and cast it into the deepest lake he can find, but he knows Kíli best and yet he didn't see this coming.]

[ It is indeed a topic that for many years now has not been touched. Not even with Dís does he remember the last time he spoke of Frerin more than simply in passing, though perhaps it had been even before either of the brothers was born.

He knows too that aside from his name and the place and time of his death, neither Fíli nor Kíli know anything about him, though not by lack of asking. Thorin simply did not answer, but if pressured his reaction would be to respond all too roughly, ending any discussions then and there.

This broadcast may be the most they have learned about Frerin, in fact. And perhaps normally he would lose his temper, he would not even dignify their responses with one of his own, but it is done, it is not something he can simply hide or ignore. And both brothers are grown now, facing all this in a manner entirely different from other times before.

Yet unlike his brother, Fíli does not pose any more questions, and though Thorin would have answered them most likely, he is thankful he does not have to, at least for now. ]

We must let him rest. [ Thorin's own voice is tired, aching, of one who has seen this before, has watched all too closely and helplessly in his past. To see it happen to his youngest nephew is entirely unexpected, however, and all the more painful for it.

He too, that much is clear, does not know what to do. ] Perhaps we ought to take the stone from him, at least for now.

[Even with no facial expression to see, the pain in Thorin's voice is palpable. There are whispers of madness in their line, and while Fíli doesn't want to think it, the odd light that shone in Kíli's eyes when he spoke of his diamond has stayed an unsettling memory days afterward. If they take the accursed thing away, would it be enough? Would he be himself again?]

For now? There is no reason for us to keep any of them, Uncle.

[The stars had voices somehow, begging for help, yet what threat could the heavens face? Fíli would much rather have every single one back in the sky, or in the fairies' possession, or anywhere but near Kíli, even as he dreads what they might find in Kíli's eyes then.]

[ Fíli's words speak true, and yet, Thorin wonders. Hesitates. They could try to return it to the court, if that is even yet possible, but he is reluctant, not knowing why those stars are so important to them. Perhaps they hold some power, and he for one would rather find out what it is about them that gives them any value before willingly handing them over to the monarchs in this place.

But that does not mean that Kíli needs to keep his own star near him, and Thorin can easily find a place where to hide it - where to hide all of them, to be frank, and hope that is enough for Kíli to return to normal. As he had so hoped with his grandfather. ]

Perhaps not. But we cannot trust them to the monarchs without knowing what they want with them. [ A pause. ] We will hide them. Bury them, if we must.

Edited 2014-08-08 12:22 (UTC)

[A weight lifts from Fíli's heart at least enough for him to breathe a sigh on his end. They'll try this, a plan better than sitting around and knocking and waiting.

Admittedly, he agrees with his uncle. The gems can be hidden away and remain in that spot, but Thorin is right that it would be wiser to look into what this entire business with the stars even is -- why they sought protection, why the monarchs would be so insistent on having them relinquished.]

Thank you, Thorin.

[ He had counted on Fíli to understand once he explained it, and he is glad to see that he was not wrong. His response at first is no more than a single nod, but then he speaks up. ]

There is nothing to thank me for. He is my nephew, I wish for him to be safe. For the both of you.

[At that, Fíli falls silent, a distinct pause before he speaks again.]

We know. [He says it softly, an apology of sorts for doubting his uncle, for thinking him willing to abandon Kíli.

(He wonders now if Thorin perhaps sees too much of his own brother in his younger nephew, and if Thorin didn't fear another terrible loss.)

A cautious beat or two later, Fíli voices one thought he had.]

... He reminds me of Kíli -- Uncle Frerin.

[ No words are spoken for a while after the last remark, though there is no complete silence that would tell the conversation to be over. Some rustling, barely noticeable in the background as Thorin shifts from one position to another, a soft sigh masked under his breath.

He's not surprised. It takes no special kind of perceptiveness to see the similarities, all the more so Fíli who shares with Thorin the point of view as an older brother, a carer and protector. But that makes it hurt no less, to hear the words spoken so clearly as if out of his very own thoughts.

His voice wavers when he answers, sounding almost tiny for a change. ]

Yes, he does. Kíli grew up to be like his uncle in many ways.

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second » video (memory) » seelie & unseelie

video.

permavoice. bc he's not gonna show his face nope

permavid!

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visual;

voice; (not showing his face, sorry bilbo)

visual forever on his end then!

u got it

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[video]

[permavoice]

voice it is~

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written

written

video

permavoice

also permavoice!

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