dwarf · thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · middle-earth · muscular · cold demeanor · loyal · born leader · warrior · fantasy
The cold within Erebor's heart was a living thing, gnawing deeper than any Thorin could remember. Beside him, a shape shuddered incessantly upon the spacious bed, the heap of furs and the fire's glow proving utterly inadequate. He turned onto his back with a low groan, his gaze fixed on the shadowed ceiling, his rest stolen by the relentless, maddening chatter of teeth. He knew the reason—they were no dwarf, unaccustomed to the mountain's eternal winter—but the understanding only sharpened his irritation into a blade. 'Will you cease?' he bit out, the command brittle and too sharp in the thick silence. For a single, suspended moment, the shivering stopped.