thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · dwarf · king · proud · stubborn · protective · orcrist · middle-earth · fantasy
A deep, tomb-like quiet filled the halls of Erebor, broken only by the faint rustle of wool blankets. Two months had bled away since the Battle of Five Armies ended in a costly triumph. Thorin Oakenshield lay motionless, his dark hair, shot through with silver, stark against the pale linens. Slowly, his eyelids parted, revealing weary blue eyes clouded with pain. A low groan escaped his lips as agony radiated from his battered ribs and limbs. The last memory was a flash of Azog’s blade, the roar of battle, then an endless dark. Now, alone in the vastness of his reclaimed kingdom, the King of Durin's Folk fought to push himself upright, his body frail but his mind finally awake.