SO MANY FEELS. Ohhhh gosh, absolutely yes. ❤
(I adore my version of Vili, I am not too embarrassed to say! I like to think that Fili took longer to warm up to him, but in the end was the first one to look for Vili’s approval and pride in him. Augh. AUGH)
Yeah, I went pretty all-in with Thorin and Frerin rebuilding their relationship in Twelve Months and Fifty Years, I guess! It’s easier to trace that progression, as it is brought into very sharp focus in that fic.
Still, peppered throughout the whole of the Behemoth itself are moments in which Thorin reconnects with Thrain and with Fris. It’s not fast, and it’s not always nice, but it certainly happens!
You got me thinking about this progression again, Nonnie! I’ve had my thinking cap on all day, ever since I got your message. I can remember baking my brain about this very topic when I first began the story a gigazillion years ago. I quite deliberately set Thorin’s family relationships as a foil to the more dramatic events of the quest and the much more fiery development of the Gigolas (and the eventual Bagginshield) relationships in the fic. Thorin’s relationship with his family isn’t like that. It’s not dramatic: it’s steady. It’s slow, and quiet and everyday and mundane and ever-present. Fris and Thrain’s support (and Hrera’s and Thror’s, for that matter) is there from the start, of course, but the knowledge of each other, and the trust and the depth and the love, is so powerful now. What we see in that first scene in Chapter 1 is the first rush. It just grows and grows and grows.
It’s Fris waking Thorin because she knows it is important to him (tools do not belong in sleeping quarters inudoy, and oh, when did you grow so tall), and it’s Thrain listening to him speak about Bilbo (so that was the one, then?), not judging or commenting, just accepting. It’s Thrain suggesting and then insisting that Thorin bring the rest of their people on board to watch the Fellowship (we’re here, use us!), and it’s Fris braiding Thorin’s hair, while telling to stop blaming himself for things he could not possibly be at fault for (Gandalf was the one to recruit Bilbo Baggins, not you!).
It’s Hrera’s dumpling soup, and her comforting brand of loving bossiness in the middle of the night, telling him stories of her own youth. It’s Thror giving Thorin his own work-room as a meeting-place, giving up his own space for Thorin’s needs. It’s Vili joking with Thorin about which of the boys is a better swimmer, and which is a better climber. It’s all those breakfast scenes in the Halls, all of them existing together and sharing food and time and gentle teasing.
Where we’ve currently paused, at Chapter 39, Thorin has actually learned to lean on them. A LOT. He relies on his mother enormously, she is basically handling all the information for him. Thorin returns time and again to Thrain’s calm acceptance. There’s a reason why Thorin went to Thrain as well as Thror when he wanted to talk about the dragon-sickness. It’s no mistake that Frerin stays in Thrain’s rooms to decompress and recover, after he reached his melting-point at the battle of the Pelennor Fields. There’s a reason why Thorin trusts Thror to keep an eye on Erebor while he stays with the Fellowship and with Gimli. There’s a reason why Hrera keeps watch over the pool in the Chamber, seated in a chair with a rug over her knees, ready to pass on any messages.
Thorin has now actually reached the point where he can give it back. He’s SO secure in their love now, and he can comfortably show his own in return. It’s taken him a long time to feel that way: he’s been generally pretty awful to himself, on the whole. But now he can see that he is loved, and that he is worthy of that love, and so he is becoming better at expressing his own care. He gently needles Fris when she is overworking (a trait they have in common) and he is constantly aware and watching for anything that may trigger Thrain, ready to leap into action.
Like I said, it’s not a dramatic relationship arc. None of the relationships in the Halls are – that’s quite deliberate! Not only are they contending with the enormous inertia of the Halls, but also against Thorin’s own guilt and anger and self-recrimination… not to mention their own painful issues (looking at you, Thror). Dwarves are stubborn as heck, after all. But it’s there. It’s quiet and subtle, but believe me, it’s there!
(and yeah – I’ve spoken before a bit about Fris’ folks, Ais and Folgar, and they’re around! But as they’re not the focus of the Behemoth and Ricky might actually kill me if I extend the character list any more I might have to one day write a little side-fic detailing their exploits in reconnecting with Frerin, and later Thorin!)
Oh my god, Fris and Thrain would be the PERFECT people to talk to about this. Fris is just so emotionally intelligent and competent, and Thrain has learned (the hard way) not to be impatient. So he knows not to push people, to let things unfold at their own pace and to give people an undemanding space.
I bet Vili went to them as well, for advice… and yeah, Nain and Daeris would probably have a quiet word with them as well.
And yeah, I think Dain and Thorin and the lads would probably have a beer or two together, and Fili would tell them how it felt to realise that he looked like his father and like Frerin. How he was both happy to have Vili back, and angry that he died and left them in the first place. And Kili will tell them how hard it was to begin calling Vili ‘Dad’, and how both of them still look to Thorin for approval instead of their father. How Fili often accompanies Vili on his visits to Erebor each morning. The day Vili showed Kili how to carve runestones.
And Thorin will take a sip of his drink to hide the emotion in his eyes (it doesn’t work) – and Dain will grumble that it’s just so hard to let them help, he’s not a Dwarfling anymore and he’s been standing on his own feet… uh, foot… for centuries, and it feels.. wrong. And Thorin will latch onto the change of topic gratefully and laugh, and tell Dain that he should be grateful he does not have Queen Hrera for a grandmother. She still treats Thorin like he is all of twenty-two years old.
HAHAHAHAHA CAUGHT YOU, @kailthia! You know what this means?
YES, THAT’s RIGHT! This is now officially Headcanonpalooza part 6!
The first 5 installments are here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.
If you are having a crummy day, then may I suggest browsing through them? They are a gorgeous little shot of sunshine and will bring a smile to your face, bc K is a gem and a genius at cute headcanons ❤
It takes him by surprise on occasion.
It’s an awkward and slow process, relearning how to be someone’s son, someone’s child. Dain doesn’t always remember that he has that support, and he often forges ahead alone, independent and stubborn, as he has done for over two hundred years.
It takes a whispered word in his ear from Fris, of all people, for Dain to look behind him and see the love and hesitant hope in his parents’ eyes.
Daeris loves to braid his hair, so unlike her own. She hums as she sits him down and brushes it and brushes it until it gleams like polished copper, and then she carefully braids it back into his accustomed style. When he bends to kiss her whiskery cheek in thanks, he is struck by the memory of her blood splashed across her face, pooling upon skin that already turned waxy and loose in death.
He swallows down the sudden surge of bile and squeezes her hands. “Thank you, Amad,” he says, and tries to wipe the image from his mind.
Nain walks upon winged feet these days, nearly exploding from pride for his mighty son. He often just beams at Dain, his face softening and creasing in astonishment and joy, and when Dain rolls his eyes Nain will shrug and laugh and say that it is his right to be a foolish old man. Besides, is Dain any better when it comes to his own boy?
That’s different, Dain will sniff, and Nain will chuckle. It is a little stilted, a little forced. Their affection does not come naturally, not yet – but it feels as though one day it could.
It is when Nain turns to one side to talk to someone, or when he flops down into a chair – hells, even when he stretches – that the terrible memory resurfaces. That angle of his head. It is only the angle of his head, Dain tells himself sternly, and washes his face and stares into his own eyes in the mirror. They look bruised.
His head had wrenched to the side, lolling and loose, the angle obscene and stomach-twisting to see. A grotesque parody, a broken doll. The sturdy Iron Hills mail he wore protected him from being decapitated… but it could not stop his spine from snapping beneath Azog’s powerful hands.
The angle of his head…
Dain splashes more water onto his face and grips the edge of the water-basin tightly. You are no longer that scared and angry child, he tells himself, and tries to force his knees to cooperate. He feels light-headed. You are safe now, protected from all evil, and Mahal himself watches over us. You are safe. Nain is safe. Daeris is safe. The last scion of Azog’s line is dead, and your family is safe.
And he steps back out to smile and laugh with his father, to let his mother brush and bind his hair, and he forges ahead. Independent as always, enduring what he must. In time, the flashbacks will subside. Not yet. Not yet. There is always the angle of Nain’s head.
But Dain hopes so, nevertheless. It feels as though one day they could.
oh my goddddddddddddddd
I can picture these so well. Augh. Aughhhhhh.
I wish I could draw, because my mental images could make stone melt right now!
WHOA BAM HEADCANON-FLOOD *squints at @kailthia suspiciously*
These are ADORABLE, awwwww! I love the doily one. And a smol Thorin with his paws in the practice ink is an image that isn’t going to leave any time soon ❤ Thank you Nonnie!
Awwwwwwww!
Imagine Nain Lord of the Iron Hills with a Longbeard father who embraced the doctrines of the Eastern Dwarves because of his Blacklock wife.
Imagine mixed race dwarf Nain with scrimshawed hair and a mind that switches with ease between the Khuzdul dialects of the west and east.
Imagine Nain who traveled the Orocarni in his youth alongside his mother. Who took note of the inventions and styles and people they had there.
Imagine jovial Nain laughing at those of his kin who warned him to be wary of his mother’s people. Laughing because they don’t understand how stupid they sound.
Imagine inventive Nain drawing up plans for those twirling death lances in the BOTFA ee. Do I headcanon that he invented those because of a type of fishing spear he saw used in the canals of the Blacklock capital?
Hell. Fucking. yeah.
Imagine Dain being cut off from that influence too soon when his father passes at Azanulbizar.
Imagine Dain having to figure out where he fits after that.
Now cry.
Aw Yiss 