Prologue

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A/N: I know Black Speech isn't the Orcs officially language but I'll just say that it is. Enjoy the prologue!

The Prancing Pony, was a place I never really saw as ideal. Sure, the food and drinks were decent enough but the patrons here aren't so lovely. They're a bunch of loud mouthed suckers that don't care about disturbing those around them.

If it were up to me, they'd all have their tongues cut out and be fed to my pets. One of the things I can't stand are disruptions while I'm trying to have a drink. Like, can't a woman have some peace and quiet?

This damn dwarf needs to hurry up and arrive so I can be out of here already. An irritable grumble rumbles through my throat and I grip the wooden mug tightly.

It's not nice to keep a lady waiting, I think to myself and roll my eyes. He doesn't even know you're here in the first place and he's not supposed to.

A loud roar sounds at the table near me and I peer over to see two men falling out of their seats. The drinks in their hands go flying and it splashes all over the floor a few feet away. Some of it manages to get on the side of my boot, and my first instinct is to reach down for my knife.

I stop before unsheathing it and instead, lean back while pulling down my hood. If they keep that up then it looks like I'll be having intestines for dinner. In response, my stomach growls but it's not because I'm craving human flesh.

Unfortunately, the taste is familiar to me due to the orcs eating it often. I've only ever had it once and that's because it was literally shoved down my throat. Now I just happen to be missing when those meals are on the menu.

I take a swig of the alcohol before me, but am disappointed that it's not strong enough for my liking. What a shame. With a small hum, I place the mug back onto the table and push it away from me in disgust. Guess they degraded on their quality of wine.

"Not good enough for ya, miss?" One of the Hobbit waitresses asks as she comes up to my table and timidly takes the beverage. "Sorry about that, trade hasn't been so good with this rainy weather. We should have better products next week." She smiles kindly and her rambling is starting to make me angry.

I tilt my head up slightly and place a few coins at the edge of the table, "Just make sure it doesn't happen again. I'd rather not have to puke all over the floor, and humiliate myself like these pathetic humans." Her light expression slowly becomes frightened at my comment and she slowly starts to back up.

Her pitiful reaction creates a smirk, and I clear my throat before giving a glare. "I think I'm done here." I growl and abruptly stand, causing the chair and table to scrape against the wooden floor.

The noise causes her to flinch and our minor height difference causes my mood to worsen. Curse my blood for partially containing that of a Hobbit. Even though I am taller than most due to my half Elven race, which thankfully gave me normal feet, I'll forever hold a grudge against both species. Blame my irresponsible parents for that.

I grunt at the thought and brush past her frozen form after making sure all my weapons are intact. The fueling anger creates a burning sensation inside my chest and I grind my teeth together in annoyance.

Guess the worm was wrong about him arriving here today. Perhaps cutting off all his fingers wasn't enough for him to tell the truth. Maybe I should go for the wife this time.

A sudden holler causes my head to snap right and I jump back when wrestling men topple by. You've got to be kidding!

More shouts ignite throughout the tavern and my feet manages to plant firmly on the ground. The increase in noise makes my blood boil and I reach down for the sword instead of my knife this time. Bunch of idiots these men. I growl under my breath and narrow my eyes at the four that started everything.

Torn In Two | Thorin Oakenshield |Where stories live. Discover now