It's a Hard Knock Life for Us (Thorinduil AU)

I • : Insomnia : •

Edit: June 26th, 2017

So I'm rewriting/editing chapters 1-8 and this chapter needed a TON of work. It's awfully shorter than the rest will be, so keep that in mind as you read. It's basically a prologue and sets the background of Thorin's life for the reader.

Anyway, enjoy.

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Thorin's POV

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Ever since I was little, I had the inability to sleep. For a while, I didn't know why I couldn't doze when the night emanated just like everyone else... But after some time, I put the puzzle pieces together.

My parents fought. I'm not saying they hated each other or anything. Dwarves were hard-headed and loud which meant it was not surprising there were lots of conflicts that ended up in yelling and the throwing of objects. However, my parents decided to do it at night when people were trying to sleep.

It wasn't until I was in my early 30's, (about 15 years for the race of men), did I realize my lack of sleep was caused by the late night fights maamr and taad created.

By now, I was 43 and laying wide awake in bed.

Down stairs, I could hear the curses in Khuzdul and the low shouts of my taad. You would think that a marriage that ending in fighting every other night wouldn't be a strong one, but my parents loved each other. They were just bad at communicating.

I didn't know how my sister and brother sleep through it all. I was the eldest, so I should've been the most used to it.

I stared awake at the bookshelf nearest to me and counted the number of spines I could see. It was still the same number it had been the night before: 82.

"Get your filthy boots off the table, Thrain! I just cleaned it this mornin'!" My maamr, Adaria, hollered from downstairs.

"This is my house, and I will do whatever I want!" Taad, Thrain the second, responded loudly in his thick accent.

My sister and I were the only ones in our family without accents like our parents and grandparents. I think it was because we were sent to lessons with the rest of the town. However, my brother Frerin was home-schooled. He had one. I somewhat envied them and their voice, but it was a silly thing to fret over, so I tried not to think about it too much.

"It is our house, Thrain!" Maamr corrected just as loud.

"I am the only one who works for a living 'round this place, therefore it is my house!" I could hear my mother groan annoyedly and pace around the kitchen. When she was upset, she stomped.

"What do you think I do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs everyday?" She asked him, her feet coming to a halt.

"No, but you sure aren't put through as much physical stress as me!" He retaliated sharply, audibly getting out of his chair and pushing it back into the table.

"Maybe not, Thrain, but my hands are just as calloused as yours are. I stick my fingers with needles everyday trying to sew garments for all of Dale, not to mention I cook and clean!" She huffed loudly, slamming her hands to what I presumed to be the table.

There was a deep sigh that I could hear even from upstairs. Taad's seemingly calmed down and spoke in a much softer voice, "I'm sorry, love. I know you work hard. Taad is just riding up our backs about the gold mine and it's wearing down on me."

"I know it is, Thrain. I'm sorry." Her voice had returned to normal as well.

It was the same fight over and over, night after night. 'Don't do that!' or 'I get no respect!' I'm surprised I couldn't recite the arguments by memory.

I zoned out into a different thought. I had more important things to think about than my bickering parents. My grandfather, Thror, was King of Erebor, which ultimately meant King of Dale, too. That meant I was a prince. After my grandfather and my father, I would be king. That's a terrifying enough title as it is, but I also knew that with it came terrifying consequences.

My grandfather was not well. He and the long line of kings before him felt subject to a sickness. I didn't understand much about it when I was younger, but over the years I began to learn what it entitled. The dragon-sickness, the obsession of all things expensive and golden. I knew that when I stepped to that throne, things wouldn't look the same to me, and I didn't want that.

I tried getting my mind off of the perturbing subject. The room was silent, which meant maamr and taad must have went to their room. I turned my head to the side to check the time, but the wall clock was shrouded in darkness. After much straining, I finally figured out the time. Great, another late night. The clock read 12:10.

I exhaled a soft sigh, leaned over, and blew out the candle that had dimly lit my room.

I lay plunged in the darkness for what seemed like ages. Though mother and father had seen themselves to bed, I remained restlessly awake.

Somehow I found myself reevaluating the contents of my day.

I made Nori lick a sword that had been laying in the snow for hours. His tongue got stuck. It was hilarious. Ori eventually felt bad since his brother's tongue had to get wrapped in warm cloth after getting it unstuck, but Óin, Glóin, Dwalin, Balin and I were laughing till our faces were nearly blue.

I took on a dozen orders at my job as a blacksmith's apprentice, and that was pretty good for my standards.

My idiot brother got his head stuck in the bars of the gate so I had to help him out.