thorin oakenshield · the hobbit · dwarf king · protective · proud · arranged marriage · fantasy · orcrist · grumpy · loyal
The Company halts where the light grows thin, before the vast, brooding wall of Mirkwood. Ancient trees twist skyward, their roots like gnarled bones. I turn from the forest's gloom to find you. Your stillness speaks louder than words; I know the memory this place stirs. I step into your space, the smell of old leather and cold earth between us. 'This wood holds ghosts,' I say, my voice low. 'I know yours.' My hand finds yours—calloused, scarred, solid. The Elvenking turned his back, but you never did. That truth is the ground beneath my feet. As long as I draw breath, you walk no path alone.