The Halls of Erebor

Introductions

"My dearest daughter," Frin's mother hovered over her, delicately placing each of her braids into an intricate design. "You know this is an important day."

Yes, mother." Frin nodded in an effort to please the elf above her. She knew being presented to the dwarven court and Thror, King Under the Mountain, was important for her parents. In her option it was a formality, a tradition. She grew up with many members of court. She and Thorin, the prince under his father Thrain, had the same tutors. There was a small part of her which was nervous. She had been gone for a year and quietly wondered if anyone would remember her.

For the past year, her family had been with the elves of Mirkwood. Her father, Farin, was an ambassador for the King. He was a small round dwarf, with a long grey beard which now hung over his chest. Once vibrant red hair had become washed out and more grey than red. Frin had been told by some that her father was harsh and brutal. If he wanted something he would inevitably get it. There had been a rumor saying he kidnapped a child once, to force one of Thror's rivals to support the King. To Frin, however, he was always kind and doting. She had never wanted for anything. The finest silks, jewels and lessons filled her childhood. He ensured she was able to fight as any dwarf should in addition to being well educated.

Her mother Lorelin was the emissary from King Thranduil. A refined elf living among the gruffness of dwarves was strange for most people. Her brown hair fell elegantly down her back, each hair in place. Since they returned she had taken to wearing a blend of the dwarven styles. Frin knew it was to be more accepted while not losing herself in the process. The relationship between a dwarf and an elf had been scandelized but over the years the people of both kingdoms grew to accept them.

As her mother tucked the last braid behind her ear, Frin spoke to a question which had been lingering in her thoughts since their return to the mountain. "Have you seen Thorin since we've been back?" She tried to phrase the question in a way that seemed idly curious but judging by the look her mother gave her, a slightly raised eyebrow, it hadn't worked.

Before she'd left, Thorin and herself had been inseparable, causing mischief everywhere they went. They were children. Frin used to get teased by her father's friends. They'd say she had an infatuation with the young prince of Erebor. If Frin was honest with herself, she had been infatuated with him. But, now she was of age, an adult, who had to deal with the realities of the life she found herself in.

"Yes. I have seen him. He has matured in our absence." Her mother spoke in her usual level tone.

Frin felt a small ball of nerves twist. She was nervous, nervous to see him, nervous to see the King.

The door to the room opened revealing her father, clothed in the robes he usually wore to court, black with a silver belt of dwarven knots. "Ready?" He asked looking at Frin, who gave a small nod.

Standing she was thankful for being allowed to wear what she wished. Over her shoulders, draped a robe of deep blue lined with the fur of a black bear. Underneath she wore a simple elven tunic but instead of the light, airy colors of the elves she wore black. On top of the tunic was a leather armour, covered in dwarven knots and runes. Her trousers were a simple leather dyed black, tucked into dwarven boots, made for her smaller figure.

In the corner of the room she could see the hilt of her short sword gleaming at her in the torch light.

"How do you wish to be known?" Her father asked, having seen the glance.

"As I am." Frin replied.

With a smile of pride he nodded, "then don't forget the sword."

With a mirrored smile, Frin quickly grabbed the elven blade and strapped it around her waist all while following her parents as they led her from her family home and through the halls of Erebor. She could feel the eyes upon them as they moved through the crowded streets deeper into the mountain to the throne room.