second » video (memory) » seelie & unseelie

[goldsickness]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[orcsurfing]

[ 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.

[goldsickness]

[ 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. ]

[orcsurfing]

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

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

[goldsickness]

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.

[orcsurfing]

[ 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.

[goldsickness]

[ 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.

[orcsurfing]

[ 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. ]

[goldsickness]

[ 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.

[orcsurfing]

[ 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.

[goldsickness]

[ 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. ]