The White Rider (Thorin Oakenshield)

Chapter Eight: Sick of Barrels

As the prissy Wood Elves lead them to their dungeons, something clicked in Legolas - the prince's head. The white cloak, not talking, hidden face.

"We have the White Rider in our presence," he said in elvish, making his companions' eyes widen, and look warily at the white cloaked figure in the middle of the group of dwarves. From the stories they've heard, they figured he would be able to escape. He was looking to the ground, watching as his black boots walked across the floor with the rest of the company.

Elves started to lead him down to the dungeons with the dwarves, but Legolas stopped them. "My King would like a word with you," he said, looking from Thorin to the Rider. They glanced at each other, uneasy. Thranduil is a dick. Adelaide actually thought he was a lady when she first saw him.

Legolas kept a firm grip on Adelaide's bicep, tugging her towards his father's throne room.

Adelaide glanced at Thorin, who glanced back at me. Adelaide has absolutely no intention in revealing who she really is to King Dick-Head.

But all too soon, they were standing in front of King Dick-Head himself.

"Ah," he said. "Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. And the White Rider. Why, I'm standing in the presence of two very renowned people."

Adelaide bit back the urge to make it so he wasn't standing any longer, even though it's harder than playing a mandolin with your hands tied behind your back.

Adelaide watched, smirking, as Thorin refused to make a deal with Thranduil, even though that could very well be the only thing that could've freed them. Thorin was dragged back to the cells, and Thranduil turned to the white-cloaked figure in front of him.

"What is the White Rider doing in my realm? Humans get a bit dull for you?" Thranduil said, circling him like a hawk circles it's prey. "Well? Speak!"

Adelaide remained silent, biting her lip, looking for a way out of this. A plan started formulating in her head.

"Not a man of many words, now, are you?" Thranduil questioned. "I will ask you only one more time: why are you traveling with dwarves?" Thranduil stopped in front of her, only two feet away.

She kicked her foot out, knocking him backwards onto his ass.

She ran, leaping off the stairs, and swinging from a beam. She landed on a ledge as Thran-dick called for his guards to catch her.

She hid in an alcove as guards ran by, and made her way to the cells her friends are being held in. She arrived just in time to see Bilbo let Thorin out of his cell. "Addie!" He breathed, relieved. He hugged her briefly, and they followed Bilbo to the wine cellar.

"Into the barrels!" The hobbit said, ushering them.

Adelaide climbed into a barrel, and Thorin into the one next to her.

"What do we do now?" Ori asked.

"Hold your breath," Bilbo said, before pulling a lever.

"Hold our-"

The barrels rolled down a ramp, and into the river. Bilbo came in after them, barrel-less. Balin pulled him up, and the hobbit clung to the side of the barrel, as they all went over some rapids.

The elves closed the gates, and they were trapped. Orcs popped out of no where, shooting arrows at them. Kili got out of his barrel, and climbed to the top of the bridge, only to get hit in the leg with an arrow. He grunted in pain, and fell to the ground, before heroically reaching up and pulling the lever, opening the gates. He rolled off the bridge and into his barrel, crying out slightly as the arrow broke off.

Legolas and another elleth, Tauriel, were fighting off the orcs. They watched as the company rounded the river bend.

Adelaide treated Kili's wound as best she could, before she sensed someone behind her. She whipped around, seeing a dark-haired man aiming an arrow at her. Dwalin growled, jumping in front of her and Kili with a branch. The man shot an arrow at it. "Move again, and you're dead," he said.

"Excuse me," Balin said. "But you're from Laketown, are you not? And that barge is yours?" The man nodded. "It wouldn't happen to be for hire, would it?"

Adelaide held in a gag as dead fish was poured over her. I'm really sick of barrels, she thought, scowling.

They had a close-call with Alfrid, the master's "right hand man," but made it into Laketown.

"I never want to see another barrel again," she groaned to the others.

"Agreed," the all said.

The man, Bard, looked curiously at her. "Aren't you the White Rider?"

Here we go again.

•••

A/N:

Wow, sorry it's so short. I just really wanted to get it out.

I have a Hobbit imagines book up, with a few imagines written. Go check it out!

EDITED