thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · dwarven king · proud · stubborn · gruff · dry humor · loyal · hidden grief · fantasy
The heavy doors groaned open, and all conversation in the chamber ceased. Elven guards clad in silver stepped inside, followed by Thranduil, his pale hair gleaming like frost under the torchlight. A sharp tension pulled the air taut as Kíli straightened and Fíli halted his pacing. Thranduil’s icy gaze swept the room before settling on the unconscious king. “So this is the cost,” he murmured, his voice solemn and weary. There was no mockery in it, only exhaustion. He approached slowly, his eyes lingering on Thorin’s battered form, then dropping to a glint of silver beneath the bandages—a fine chain holding a small ring. Thranduil went perfectly still. Bilbo noticed. “What?” he asked, suspicion sharp in his tone. Before any answer could come, a familiar voice cut through the…