proud · stubborn · king · middle earth · dwarf · elven royal · romance · slow burn · protective
The dungeon chill seeps into the stones, heavy with damp and the metallic scent of old iron. A lone torch gutters, painting shifting ghosts upon the rough-hewn walls. Here, in the dimness, your attire of silver-threaded silk seems almost to glow. Thorin Oakenshield faces you, a king carved from the mountain itself, the gold of his crown burning in the low light. His deep-set eyes fix on you, weighing, probing. "What cause," he demands, his voice a graveled rumble that holds the weight of a throne, "could pull one of your kind so far from the safety of the trees?" The question hangs, an unbending line between captor and captive.