Thorin swirls the sword in his hand and lunges ahead. Dwalin is ready for him, he ducks, and the older prince of Erebor receives a humiliating smack of the training sword on his backside. Thorin growls and thrust his wooden sword aiming for the larger Dwarf's shoulder. The move is predictable, and Dwalin pushes his body following his initial trajectory, and Thorin flies by and slams into a wall. He heavily leans on it and winces as if in pain. Dwalin moves to him in concern, only to be cut down under his knees and flop on the ground on his back, in a muddy puddle. Thorin is laughing and his frolics are joined by Frerin, who is sitting on the bench by the wall. Dwalin is swearing under his breath.
"That doesn't count," he is grumbling. "Why not? You are on your back," Thorin's white teeth are gleaming. "You cheated." "I won," Thorin walks to the bench and picks up a mug of water. He drinks greedily and gives Frerin a mischievous side glance. All three of them settle on the bench and stretch their legs. Frerin's face is suddenly dreamy.
"I saw Alda today again, she was visiting Dis." Dwalin groans but Thorin looks interested. "What was she doing?" His velvet voice is soft, he is looking at his younger brother with affection. Dwalin punches his shoulder, "Don't encourage the lad. Nothing will come out of this." "What do you mean, nothing will come out of it?" Frerin's voice rings, "I am almost of battle age, I can talk to Father about her!" "Is your noggin hollow? Such lass wouldn't be interested in you!" Thorin painfully nudges him with his elbow. "And who would she be interested in? I am a prince!" Dwalin screws his eyes at Thorin, but the latter slightly shakes his head.
Frerin is looking at both of them. "Do you know something I don't?" Thorin smirks, "We know a lot of what you don't." Frerin jumps on his feet. "Only because you are older doesn't mean you are smarter." He turns around and stomps away. Dwalin shakes his head, "Aye, it only means that such foxy lass like Alda would be more interested in you." Thorin sighs and rubs his face with his hands.
"She caught me again in the passage the other day. I specifically chose a little-known one, and there she is! Honestly, she is a better scout than Father's guards." Dwalin barks a laugh. "Tell the lad what she is like. His moaning and lamenting is annoying like fleas in your cloak!" Thorin leans back on the bench and closes his eyes. "It'll pass. No need to tell him that not all women have pure heart and noble intentions. He will meet his One and will settle. If he wants to fawn over Alda's voluptuous curves, let him be young for longer."
Dwalin is looking at him stunned. "Voluptuous curves?" "His words, not mine. Although the forms are indeed something." Both Dwarves smirk. Thorin ponders it for a moment, "But obviously the dome is empty," he taps his finger onto his temple, "Does she really think Father would allow her to become a future Queen of Erebor?"
"Well, if you were determined she was the one you wanted..." They both consider the idea and then burst into booming laughter. After a few moments of frolics, Thorin wipes tears from his eyes. "Even to think of it..." He shakes his head, "Alda on the throne of Erebor, with her battering lashes and saucy winks." "You are thinking of the wrong part of marriage," Dwalin gives his an impish grin, "Alda mothering your sons, and everything that precedes it..." He cocks his brow, and Thorin gives him a condescending smirk. "I am the heir to the throne of Durin, mothering my heirs is a job for a daughter of an old and noble family. Not for some skint from Ered Luin."
Dwalin shakes his head and then slams his giant palm into his shoulder. "We'll see, you'd be surprised. Once Mahal leads you, what are you to do if she is not of noble blood? Just watch, some voluptuous curves will capture you, and you are a goner!" Thorin puffs air scornfully, "That's a pile of troll's dang! Who cares what she looks like? Her fathers is what matters, the family, the blood, my heirs. Sighs and busses are no concern of mine." He gets up and swirls the sword in his hand again, "Another round and then to axes?"