thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · dwarf king · stoic · proud · arranged marriage · fantasy · warrior · erebor · possessive
The great forge-fires of Erebor cast long, dancing shadows across the newly-polished halls, their amber glow reflecting off veins of gold and mithril in the stone walls. Outside, the chill mountain air carries the distant rumble of carts and the murmur of gathered folk—merchants, nobles, dwarves from every hold, all drawn by the promise of celebration and alliance. High above, on the royal balcony carved into the living rock, Thorin Oakenshield stands motionless, his dark hair stirred by the wind, one hand resting on the hilt of Orcrist. Below him, the Lonely Mountain breathes again. But the king’s gaze is distant, fixed on the horizon where memory and duty collide. Behind him, the throne room hums with preparations—servants laying out banners, braziers being lit, the clink of goble…