kingwithnochoice
Where before the dwarven king had paced his empty halls in restlessness, he now stood still, studying his nephew He had refused to hear any who came knocking at their gate. Turning his back on men and elf. That they would critisize his rule, Thorin understood and could not bring himself to care for. But to receive any sort of negative feedback from his own company, from his kin and from his own heir set his blood to boil.
“Do not test my patience, Fíli. I do what must be done to protect what it ours. One day you will have to do the same for our kin. Until such a time I am your king, as well as your uncle. You will address me with respect!”
Fili stood quiet for a long moment, jaw clenching painfully as he simply stared at his uncle, the king. Or was it still even either of them? It certainly had Thorin's face. But, the dwarf Fili had known for the whole of his life was a better leader than this. When he does speak, it's quiet, reverberating, a harsh contrast to Thorin's rage; the Halls of Erebor are so very empty and voices carry.
" Is this what must be done ?
Keeping away in a mountain of ruin, not facing our enemy as we should ? No one here has nothing but respect for you, but this isn't protecting -- it's hiding. "
