Prompt Post 13
Welcome to the Hobbit Prompt Post!
PROMPT FREEZE. This will stay in place for a bit longer than normal; we have a lot of prompts still to fill. So instead of 72 hours, let's go for a week, okay?
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Both anon and non-anon posting is allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don’t out them. IP tracking is off ( Read more... )
PROMPT FREEZE. This will stay in place for a bit longer than normal; we have a lot of prompts still to fill. So instead of 72 hours, let's go for a week, okay?
Guidelines:
Both anon and non-anon posting is allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don’t out them. IP tracking is off ( Read more... )
A quiet, sharp gasp from Oin drew Bombur’s attention. He followed the dwarf’s wide-eyed stare to where the contents of his pack were scattered about, and a bandit pocketing his pouches of herbs. The two dwarves’ eyes met. Those herbs were needed for Thorin’s injures, and the Halfling who was unconscious and feverish in Gloin’s arms. It was all they had…
With a speed that caught the bandits off guard, Bombur ran over to the thief, threw his braided beard over the man’s head, capturing him in a tight chock hold with it.
“Return everything, now,” Dwalin demanded in a furious voice, materializing at the cook’s side. “Or…”
The man struggled and coughed as Bombur’s beard tightened a little.
Bug-eyed and frightened, the bandits scrambled to do as they were told, stunned by this turn of events. Once the herbs had unceremoniously been dropped on the ground, Bombur let the fellow go. He dashed wildly after his companions.
“And if you ever come back, we will not be as gracious next time!” Kili threatened after them.
“Did not know you had that up your sleeve, brother,” Bofur murmured, eyes twinkling with pride.
Bombur only blushed under the admiring comments and looks from the others. And he did not blame the Halfling at all when, the tale eventually being shared with him, he doubted it and took three months to be convinced of its truthfulness.
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So it was a shock when the group rounded a corner and drew up sharply, all but running into the young guard coming the other way. The guard stumbled back a step or two, eyes widening in astonishment. Bilbo and the dwarves stared, open-mouthed. For about ten seconds everyone remained frozen. Then the soldier shook himself, an angry expression settling on his face, and leveled his spear at Bilbo’s chest threateningly. The hobbit’s loud nervous gulp drifted clearly to his companions’ ears. Frantic hand motions and tapping on arms took place unbeknownst to Bilbo and the guard, their focus only on one another.
Thus the element of surprise was on Bifur’s side. He jerked his scarf from his neck, scooped up a rock at his feet and set it in the middle of the scarf. In a fluid movement Bifur whipped his scarf above his head in a swift circular motion, and then let it go. The dwarf grunted with satisfaction when the scarf with the rock made contact with the side of the guard’s head and he crumbled to the ground in a heap.
Low sniggers escaped the dwarves when Bilbo’s face turned to total bafflement as he poked at the still elf with a toe and lifted up the grey scarf. The Halfling’s confusion changed to awe when Bifur took the scarf from his hands and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Thank you!” Bilbo whispered.
Bifur grunted and smiled. With a nod, he encouraged the hobbit to lead the way, and fell into step behind him.
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It was the third day they were in pursuit of Azog’s orcs who had made off with Kili, their burglar, and their wizard. (Just how a wizard could be captured they had not been able to work out. Nor were they very hopeful Gandalf had freed them all and were at this instant trying to catch up with the rest of the company since he was minus his staff (which currently was in Balin and Dwalin’s safekeeping).) Time was not on their side. Durin’s Day was fast approaching. It had been a long, intense discussion before Thorin decided they would go after their companions. Picking up the trail had not been difficult, but now they had hit something of a wall…
Nori turned his attention back to the small creature Bombur was sitting on. It reminded the dwarf a bit of an orc, except its skin was scaly, protecting it from punches and the like. The creature had been among the kidnapping party.
“I am going to ask one last time,” Nori stated softly, plopping down on the ground beside the two. “Where is the pack going?”
Again the creature burst out laughing, merely grunting as Bombur pressed his weight down more firmly on him.
Resting his chin in his hand, the portrait of boredom, Nori's gaze wandered slowly up and down the creature’s legs.
“What would be the fun in telling you that? Would defeat the purpose,” the creature said in a raspy tone between cackles. “The others may look down on me, but I never spill secrets.”
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“Never tell- Bwhaha!” the creature cut off, violently kicking his feet out of reach.
But Nori stayed right with him, vigorously tickling the bottom of the creature’s toes with the feather tip of Ori’s quill he had pinched. He knew a thing or two about tickling.
About five minutes passed with Nori’s tickling growing more intense, and the creature laughing and trying to get away.
“OW!” the creature yelled when the sharp point of the quill dug into one toe. “Stop! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” his voice rose in panic.
“That’s better,” Nori commented with a grim smile. “Where are they going?”
Shortly they were all setting off again at a hard pace, with the creature tied up and bouncing over Dwalin’s shoulder.
“If you have lied or try to double cross us…,” Nori trailed off, grandly brandishing the quill in front of their prisoner’s nose.
The answering terrified squeak was quite satisfying.
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“That will teach you to show respect and courtesy to your betters, old windbag!” the trip upper jeered meanly.
Looking across the room, Ori glimpsed several of the company struggling to get up from their table and through the crowd. A glance at Gandalf revealed him still down, and a few of the men were stepping toward him. …There was no time to wait.
Ori clambered up onto a table as fast as he could and strode to the man who had tripped Gandalf, fumbling frantically in his pocket.
“Excuse me,” he said in his politest voice, tapping the man on the shoulder. “I hate to interrupt…”
The man spun to face him, startled, and stared straight into the dwarf’s eyes.
Ori flung the contents of his inkwell into the man’s eyes, who cried out, effectively blinding him.
“…But that was very bad manners, tripping him like that,” he finished, shaking his head in disapproval.
Then Dwalin and Thorin were there, and soundly took the man down with just their fists. Quite a thing to behold it was.
All mayhem nearly broke out in the pub. The patrons were divided between making the dwarves pay via a full out brawl and being hesitate to cross the strangers. Gandalf managed to regain his feet, dignity, and staff, and turned the troublemaker who started it all and his friends into toads. Everyone had scattered and cleared out quickly after that trick.
It had been an irritated company, though, which retired to bed, as the wizard had mumbled unintelligibly into his beard the rest of the night, not dropping a word of thanks to any of the dwarves who had come to his aid. While his brothers had complained about the manners of wizards, Ori silently mourned that all his ink for his writing was gone.
Next morning as they headed out, however, the young scribe’s face was awed and embarrassed when Gandalf silently placed his tall grey hat on his head, and did not ask for its return until after midday. Ori simply smiled up at the wizard with understanding and thanks. And again in the evening, when he discovered a new inkwell filled to the brim in his pack.
THE END
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Thank you for reading. :)
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Loved it! :D
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