Book One: Little River | Thorin Oakenshield

Chapter Four

~ | The Exiled King | ~

Gandalf opened the door with a calm and deliberate motion, revealing a dwarf standing on the doorstep, his posture exuding both confidence and weariness. Narelle stood firmly behind Gandalf, her stomach twisting into tight knots as she tried to maintain her composure. As the door creaked open, the dwarf looked up through his eyebrows, a slight smile curling at the edges of his lips.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door," the dwarf explained as he stepped inside, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. Gandalf smirked knowingly at his old friend, stepping aside to allow him entry. The other dwarves immediately bowed their heads in respect for their leader.

Narelle, feeling the weight of his presence, instinctively hid herself slightly behind Gandalf, though she remained visible enough to address the King if required. The dwarf's dark brown hair had begun to show streaks of grey at the temples, a testament to the years he had seen. Two braids sat atop his mane, secured with silver clasps, reminiscent of those worn by his fellow dwarves. His facial hair, though short, was untamed, and his brown leather cloak, lined with greyish fur and silver fabrics, showed signs of wear, the black cord tying it together frayed with age and use.

Bilbo furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted just a week ago." He tried to peer around Gandalf, attempting to catch a glimpse of the door's exterior, but Gandalf closed it firmly behind their newest guest. The dwarf removed his heavy cloak, folding it over his arm with practiced ease.

Gandalf, with a knowing smile, turned to Bilbo. "There is a mark. I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. He handed his cloak to Kili without a second thought, then turned his sharp gaze on the Hobbit. "So... this is the Hobbit," he mused, his voice low and measured. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

As he circled Bilbo, Thorin scrutinized him closely, his eyes narrowing as if assessing whether this unassuming figure was truly worthy of joining their quest. Bilbo, feeling the weight of Thorin's gaze, stood frozen, caught between his natural politeness and the intimidation radiating from the dwarf before him.

Narelle took the cloak from Kili with a subtle nod, a quiet acknowledgment of one of her closest companions. As the others focused on Thorin's entrance, she moved with practiced grace, unfolding the cloak and carefully hanging it on the hook beside her own. Without drawing attention to herself, she slipped back through the hallway, her footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor.

Rejoining Gandalf, she took her place beside him, her eyes fixed on the unfolding interaction between Thorin and Bilbo. Though she remained silent, her presence was steady and reassuring, a calm observer amidst the growing tension.

Bilbo blinked in confusion, taken aback by the seriousness in Thorin's voice. "Pardon me?" he repeated, clearly baffled by the dwarf's line of questioning. He glanced around the room, as if hoping someone might explain the sudden shift in conversation.

Thorin's expression remained stern, his gaze unwavering as he asked, "Ax or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" There was no hint of humor in his tone, only the weight of expectation, as if this question held more significance than Bilbo could comprehend. The Hobbit hesitated, clearly out of his depth, while the room fell into a tense silence, all eyes on him.

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, rolling his feet awkwardly from his toes to his heels before finally planting them firmly on the floor, as if trying to ground himself against the intensity of Thorin's gaze. "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know... but I fail to see why that's relevant," he replied, his voice tinged with nervousness.