Fic: Feint Left, Jab Right
I hate titles. Really, they're the worst part of writing if I didn't think of one immediately.
Feint Left, Jab Right
The Hobbit (All Media Types). Thorin, Thranduil, mentions of the Company. PG. ~670 words. Interrogation and threats (veiled and otherwise). Held and interrogated by Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, Thorin wants to do nothing more than wring the smug bastard's neck.
More prompt goodness from hobbit_kink
The darkness of the elvenking's dungeons was so complete, Thorin thought the dim glowing of the door's small, barred window was in his mind at first. But it grew steadily brighter, accompanied by undisguised footfalls, and since it was not yet time for his scant daily meal it could only mean one thing. Climbing to his feet, Thorin straightened his travel-worn coat and hooked his thumbs into his belt and waited. The door to his cell swung forward and two guards swept in, bearing torches and behind them came Thranduil.
Thorin regarded the unchanged face of the elvenking, and was reminded of a similar scene many years ago. Albeit under very different conditions.
He would not be the first to break the silence, and waited until Thranduil said, taking a step forward into the dank room, "A curious thing. My guard heard reports of Ungoliant's spawn further north from Dol Goldur than they'd ever dare travel before. But it was not flies they were trying to catch in their webs."
"Is this a riddle?" Thorin asked, his voice rough from disuse.
"You lied to me, Thorin son of Thrain," Thranduil said as he paced from one side of the cell to the other, but all the while kept his gaze fixed levelly on Thorin. "You said you were traveling alone, for the sake of speed and secrecy. Yet twelve of your kinsmen have also violated the borders of my realm. So, yes, perhaps it is a riddle."
"I said my business was my own. Not that it was unaided."
"More a smith of half-truths than steel then," Thranduil said, his lips quirked into a humorless smile.
"Better a smith of half-truths than false promises," Thorin said, taking a step forward and noticed with a smug satisfaction the hands of the elvenking's guards on the hilts of their swords.
Thranduil paused a moment in this pacing. His tone was deceptively light when he finally continued. "Among their number are Balin son of Fundin and Dwalin his brother. Mighty warriors indeed. In fact, sworn shields all twelve of them are to the heir of Durin."
Thorin noted the lack of mention of Bilbo. Perhaps he had evaded capture and hope bloomed in Thorin's heart and tried very hard not to smile at the thought. "Every dwarf knows what loyalty is. To come to their kinsman's aid when called," Thorin said, schooling his features into a heavy scowl.
Carrying on in that insufferably breezy manner, Thranduil said, "I ought to have phrased that the heirs of Durin, though. Your sister-sons are quite recognizable. The elder especially has the bearing of your brother Frerin."
The bottom of Thorin's stomach dropped and he had not before thought it possible to hate the elvenking more than he did the day Erebor fell to Smaug.
Deadly quiet he said, "You will regret it, should either of them come to harm."
Thranduil stopped his movement then and fixed Thorin with a steely gaze of his own. "Tell me then your business then. If not, you must continue to suffer my hospitality."
"Oh, it is hospitality then to be held against your will?" Thorin snorted, but his mind could not let the thought rest that this elvish bastard had not only threated his company and the quest, but members of his blood. When he was King Under the Mountain again, he would have Thranduil, King of the Woodland realm on his knees before him.
"Remember you may leave. Provided you explain, in detail, what business brought you here," Thranduil said. With a final look, knowing Thorin would not respond, he swept from the cell the light of the guards' torches and the sounds of their footfalls becoming ever more faint.
With a shout of frustration, Thorin slammed his fists against the solid stone of his prison. If Bilbo Baggins had indeed escaped the Mirkwood guards as he had the goblins, then Thorin would need to trust once more in their burglar to find a way out of the halls of the elvenking.
Feint Left, Jab Right
The Hobbit (All Media Types). Thorin, Thranduil, mentions of the Company. PG. ~670 words. Interrogation and threats (veiled and otherwise). Held and interrogated by Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, Thorin wants to do nothing more than wring the smug bastard's neck.
More prompt goodness from hobbit_kink
The darkness of the elvenking's dungeons was so complete, Thorin thought the dim glowing of the door's small, barred window was in his mind at first. But it grew steadily brighter, accompanied by undisguised footfalls, and since it was not yet time for his scant daily meal it could only mean one thing. Climbing to his feet, Thorin straightened his travel-worn coat and hooked his thumbs into his belt and waited. The door to his cell swung forward and two guards swept in, bearing torches and behind them came Thranduil.
Thorin regarded the unchanged face of the elvenking, and was reminded of a similar scene many years ago. Albeit under very different conditions.
He would not be the first to break the silence, and waited until Thranduil said, taking a step forward into the dank room, "A curious thing. My guard heard reports of Ungoliant's spawn further north from Dol Goldur than they'd ever dare travel before. But it was not flies they were trying to catch in their webs."
"Is this a riddle?" Thorin asked, his voice rough from disuse.
"You lied to me, Thorin son of Thrain," Thranduil said as he paced from one side of the cell to the other, but all the while kept his gaze fixed levelly on Thorin. "You said you were traveling alone, for the sake of speed and secrecy. Yet twelve of your kinsmen have also violated the borders of my realm. So, yes, perhaps it is a riddle."
"I said my business was my own. Not that it was unaided."
"More a smith of half-truths than steel then," Thranduil said, his lips quirked into a humorless smile.
"Better a smith of half-truths than false promises," Thorin said, taking a step forward and noticed with a smug satisfaction the hands of the elvenking's guards on the hilts of their swords.
Thranduil paused a moment in this pacing. His tone was deceptively light when he finally continued. "Among their number are Balin son of Fundin and Dwalin his brother. Mighty warriors indeed. In fact, sworn shields all twelve of them are to the heir of Durin."
Thorin noted the lack of mention of Bilbo. Perhaps he had evaded capture and hope bloomed in Thorin's heart and tried very hard not to smile at the thought. "Every dwarf knows what loyalty is. To come to their kinsman's aid when called," Thorin said, schooling his features into a heavy scowl.
Carrying on in that insufferably breezy manner, Thranduil said, "I ought to have phrased that the heirs of Durin, though. Your sister-sons are quite recognizable. The elder especially has the bearing of your brother Frerin."
The bottom of Thorin's stomach dropped and he had not before thought it possible to hate the elvenking more than he did the day Erebor fell to Smaug.
Deadly quiet he said, "You will regret it, should either of them come to harm."
Thranduil stopped his movement then and fixed Thorin with a steely gaze of his own. "Tell me then your business then. If not, you must continue to suffer my hospitality."
"Oh, it is hospitality then to be held against your will?" Thorin snorted, but his mind could not let the thought rest that this elvish bastard had not only threated his company and the quest, but members of his blood. When he was King Under the Mountain again, he would have Thranduil, King of the Woodland realm on his knees before him.
"Remember you may leave. Provided you explain, in detail, what business brought you here," Thranduil said. With a final look, knowing Thorin would not respond, he swept from the cell the light of the guards' torches and the sounds of their footfalls becoming ever more faint.
With a shout of frustration, Thorin slammed his fists against the solid stone of his prison. If Bilbo Baggins had indeed escaped the Mirkwood guards as he had the goblins, then Thorin would need to trust once more in their burglar to find a way out of the halls of the elvenking.