Skin Changer : A Hobbit FanFiction (Discontinued)

Daddy's Girl

Thranduil's palace was magnificent, with spiraling staircases and green filtered light that gave everything a mystical air. Its beauty was without question, but Thorin couldn't help but feel like he'd been swallowed by some great beast. The walls around him were alive, pulsing, whispering. That the elves lived there was testament to their madness.

He had been separated from the Company as they were lead to what he assumed was a prison. The elf who'd pulled Ilma aside was nowhere to be seen, and the elves that held him would not meet his gaze. They stood at his sides, still as stone, for half an hour before acting on some signal Thorin could not see, leading him up a branch turned bridge, and up a low staircase that leveled out into a wide platform. There, at the top of yet another set of stairs, was a throne, a pale crowned figure upon it.

Thranduil rose lithely, his robes trailing behind him as he stepped down to stand beside Thorin, dismissing his guards with a graceful wave of his hand.

"Some have made mention," the elf king said, his voice ringing through his halls. "Of a noble quest at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland, and slay a dragon." He looked at Thorin then. his gaze piercing blue beneath his dark brows. "I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary for something of value." He twisted himself down so his face was level with Thorin's. "You have found a way in."

He backed away, an infuriatingly smug expression on his face. "You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The king's jewel, the Arkenstone."

Thorin had to look away. That this elf had managed to guess all he sought to keep secret...

"It is precious to you beyond measure." Thranduil smiled. "I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire. White gems, of pure starlight. I offer you my help."

The unspoken in exchange hung loudly between them, and Thorin scoffed. "I am listening."

"I will let you go," Thranduil said. "If you but return to me what is mine. After all," he added looking at something behind Thorin. "You've already done so."

Thorin turned, expecting some jewel or momento of happier times between their peoples. He was not, however, expecting Ilma.

She stood as tall as any elf, her white hair clean and falling in waves about her stoic face. She was wearing a dress, the white fabric pooling about her feet, despite the fabric her clenched fists held.

"Ada," she said, voice strong and clear as she walked past Thorin without acknowledging him. "You do me insult."

"How so, my daughter?" Thranduil asked, arms opening as if to embrace Ilma.

She stopped short of his hug. "You have taken my guests into custody, delaying their journey. I would see them released."

Thorin glanced frantically from father to child, wishing dearly that they were playing some elaborate joke.

The wide eyed expression on Thranduil's face was too like Ilma for that doubt to remain. "As would I, daughter. But there are forms to be upheld-."

Ilma made a violent motion with her hand, startling some of the guards into defensive positions. "Since when is extortion a motion of law?"

Thranduil grew serious, a cold light entering his eyes. "What would you have me do? Leave our heritage in the hands of heathens?"

Ilma lifted her chin proudly. "I would have you treat my guests with the proper courtesy."

"And if I do not?"

"Then treat me as your prisoner."