Tyrfing (The Hobbit - Fili)

"Your father said no..." the leader said as he turned around the corner from another hallway "not that I'm surprised"

"He never was a warrior, nor a burglar..." I trailed, my feet seemingly frozen to the golden-stained wood.

Silence settled between us

"Do you fight?"

"Yes" I answered obediently "I use a sword"

"Are you good with it" he questioned once more, moving a few steps closer as he did.

"I would like to think so, or those years of training was a waste of my hard-earned money."

I couldn't take my eyes off the ground, it was like just a glance would almost knock you off your feet, but that intense stare that I could feel on the crown of my head started to burn like a wild fire, scorching my scalp as it did so.

"Hmm" he mumbled as his form gently pushed passed me, a gentleness that I didn't think he was capable of "would you be interested...13 is an unlucky number and us dwarves are superstitious" his voice was stern and powerful, just like his glare.

It felt like the warm browns and golds that adorned the corridor started to swirl as I started to sway to its rhythm, almost as if a trance held me by the throat, pushing me to that position just before passing out were I was my most vulnerable. White light starting to dance in my vision.

"Yes...I'll come with you."

He stoped in his tracks once more, the silence from his boots crunching the dirt that stuck underneath it being a clear indicator "good, get packing..."