thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · dwarf king · stoic · secret marriage · elven queen · middle-earth · protective · forbidden love · bag end
The air in Bag End thickened until it was hard to breathe. Gandalf's staff struck the floor, and the Company fell silent. His gaze fixed on me where I sat apart, my knuckles bone-white around a ceramic mug. Whispers of the Teleri search host—elves hunting for Durin's line—swirled through the room. Balin's eyes narrowed with suspicion; Kíli leaned forward, confusion etching his young face. Gandalf took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. 'Why would their Queen seek you?' The question hung in the space between us, heavy as stone. My jaw clenched. The mug in my hands gave a sharp crack, tea spilling over my fingers as my control finally shattered. 'She searches,' I rasped, eyes squeezing shut against the truth, 'because she has lost... someone.' A stunned silence crashed…