Book One: Little River | Thorin Oakenshield

Chapter Seventeen

CONTENT WARNING: Torture

~ | The Goblin King | ~

The company landed roughly on a wooden cage, struggling to regain their footing. Goblins swarmed around them, attacking viciously. The creatures began to disarm the dwarves, pushing them forward. Despite their efforts to fight back, the dwarves were overwhelmed.

Narelle glanced back to find Bilbo crouched motionless on the floor. Their eyes locked as she silently mouthed, "Run." The goblins shoved her forward, and Bilbo quickly vanished from her sight.

The goblins herded the dwarves and Narelle through a labyrinth of tunnels and wooden bridges, their path illuminated by flickering torches. The cavernous tunnels echoed with the chattering and snarling of thousands of goblins, their eyes glinting with malicious curiosity.

The company was prodded and pushed until they were thrown into a massive throne room, landing roughly at the feet of the Great Goblin King. Narelle looked up, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the colossal and grotesque figure lounging on his throne. The Great Goblin King was far larger and more hideous than the other goblins, with a grotesque tumor hanging from the side of his face. He wheezed and coughed, squinting down at the group with an air of bewilderment.

The goblins hastily piled the dwarves' and Narelle's weapons into a heap before the throne. The Great Goblin King, with a tremendous wobble of his massive belly, rose from his throne, leaning heavily on a large, skull-covered mace for support. He roared at his servants, "Who dares enter my kingdom armed? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

One of the smaller goblins, bowing deeply, replied, "Dwarves, your malevolence."

The Great Goblin King burst into laughter, his grotesque face contorting with amusement. "Dwarves?" He guffawed. "Well, don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack, every crevice!"

The goblins swarmed the dwarves, searching them thoroughly. They threw anything they found onto the ground and destroyed it, including Oin's hearing device. The din of shattering equipment and the dwarves' muffled protests filled the chamber.

"What are you doing in these parts?" the Goblin King bellowed, his eyes narrowing with anticipation as he awaited a response. The dwarves exchanged nervous glances, hesitating.

"Very well," the Goblin King sneered, "if they won't talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest." He pointed menacingly at Kili.

Thorin stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of his nephew. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice ringing with urgency.

The Great Goblin King looked up, a mocking grin spreading across his face as he recognized Thorin. "Well, well, well, look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." He chuckled darkly. "Oh, but I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really." His grin widened. "But I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak. A vengeful enemy of yours."

Thorin's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he faced the Goblin King.

The Great Goblin King turned his gaze to one of the tiny goblin scribes, who was perched in a hanging basket above the cave floor. "Send word to the North," he ordered with a sinister smile. "Tell him I have found his prize."

The scribe quickly scrawled the message on a slate and cackled as he pulled a lever, sending the basket sailing off into the dark caverns below.

The throne room was soon filled with the clattering of goblins carrying massive instruments of torture. The Great Goblin King pranced around his throne, his voice ringing out in a ghastly, off-key song that filled the cavern.