Thorin II Oakenshield (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
takingback) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-07 05:46 pm
takingback) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-07 05:46 pm
if this is to end in fire
Who| Thorin Oakenshield and you
What| The King under the Mountain arrives and proceeds to be the grumpiest new arrival.
Where| Various locations within the Training Center.
When| A week after the last Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Rude behaviour, most likely. Will match format!
A: District 2 suite
To say that Thorin takes things well upon his arrival would be akin to saying the water is red, or that the grass is purple. The chairs, the tables, the strange tubes of light on the ceilings -- everything is alien to him, stranger even than the sights he would see in the other towns of Men, in Bree, in Laketown. Where is the wood? The carvings? Tapestries, candles and lanterns?
He paces around the room once, twice, muttering something inaudible in khuzdul before rounding on the table and kicking it, hard- hard enough to send whatever decorations were set on it flying to the floor. It's not dignified, and even less productive, but at least it gives him a fleeting satisfaction of defying the order - of the room, and also of those who brought him here.
The Avox he runs into at the door gets a glare and a growled-out I don't need your help in response to his inquiries as Thorin pushes past him, leaving the suite.
B: Central commons, near the elevator
The box... moved. Without anything visible moving it, no one there to make sure the machinery worked, no one to release counter weights to pull it back up -- it baffles him. The sound made it seem like there was something moving it, and something must have done... but despite the similarities with the machines the dwarves had used for centuries in their mining, Thorin can't quite wrap his head around it.
Which is why he abandons his plan of "look at no one, talk to no one" and turns to whoever is closest to the elevator doors, his tone as gravelly and serious as if this was a matter of extreme importance.
"How does that- contraption keep moving without any weights to pull it back? Is there a wizard's spell on it?" If there is, it's rather a poor way to use their spells, he thinks. Gandalf would certainly not waste his time with something that can be made to work mechanically.
C: Central commons, restaurant
He's used to the stares. Weaving between the long, soft benches, groups of chairs and the chattering people left and right, his stature is as much a hindrance as it is an advantage - people pausing in their speech, moving away a little so he could pass, well, that wasn't too bad. But the stares.
At least one thing is still the same, in the world of Men.
Carefully avoiding looking at anybody, his plan to bring as little attention to himself as he possibly could, Thorin makes his way to the restaurant area, both to find food - battling a dragon makes you rather hungry, if you wouldn't believe - and to see if he can pocket some of those knives used for eating; not the same as having a sword or an axe, but better than being completely unarmed.
What| The King under the Mountain arrives and proceeds to be the grumpiest new arrival.
Where| Various locations within the Training Center.
When| A week after the last Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Rude behaviour, most likely. Will match format!
A: District 2 suite
To say that Thorin takes things well upon his arrival would be akin to saying the water is red, or that the grass is purple. The chairs, the tables, the strange tubes of light on the ceilings -- everything is alien to him, stranger even than the sights he would see in the other towns of Men, in Bree, in Laketown. Where is the wood? The carvings? Tapestries, candles and lanterns?
He paces around the room once, twice, muttering something inaudible in khuzdul before rounding on the table and kicking it, hard- hard enough to send whatever decorations were set on it flying to the floor. It's not dignified, and even less productive, but at least it gives him a fleeting satisfaction of defying the order - of the room, and also of those who brought him here.
The Avox he runs into at the door gets a glare and a growled-out I don't need your help in response to his inquiries as Thorin pushes past him, leaving the suite.
B: Central commons, near the elevator
The box... moved. Without anything visible moving it, no one there to make sure the machinery worked, no one to release counter weights to pull it back up -- it baffles him. The sound made it seem like there was something moving it, and something must have done... but despite the similarities with the machines the dwarves had used for centuries in their mining, Thorin can't quite wrap his head around it.
Which is why he abandons his plan of "look at no one, talk to no one" and turns to whoever is closest to the elevator doors, his tone as gravelly and serious as if this was a matter of extreme importance.
"How does that- contraption keep moving without any weights to pull it back? Is there a wizard's spell on it?" If there is, it's rather a poor way to use their spells, he thinks. Gandalf would certainly not waste his time with something that can be made to work mechanically.
C: Central commons, restaurant
He's used to the stares. Weaving between the long, soft benches, groups of chairs and the chattering people left and right, his stature is as much a hindrance as it is an advantage - people pausing in their speech, moving away a little so he could pass, well, that wasn't too bad. But the stares.
At least one thing is still the same, in the world of Men.
Carefully avoiding looking at anybody, his plan to bring as little attention to himself as he possibly could, Thorin makes his way to the restaurant area, both to find food - battling a dragon makes you rather hungry, if you wouldn't believe - and to see if he can pocket some of those knives used for eating; not the same as having a sword or an axe, but better than being completely unarmed.
no subject
Nor I you. [There is still no sign of friendliness in the words, but he is confused enough to leave out the additional rude remarks.]
There is no end to the torments of this cursed place, it seems. [... almost. Almost leaving them out.]
no subject
I would not count me among your torments so quickly, if what I hear of this place holds true.
no subject
[He admits this with a sideways glance, wondering if there is more - there must be, but what he has been told is bad enough as it is. Bad enough that the only familiar face he has seen so far is the face of the Elvenking. He can almost hear Balin's voice in his ear, telling him to be civil... and yet he does not know he can be as much.]
no subject
Tell me, what do you last remember before your coming here?
no subject
... I remember the dragon. [He doesn't quite understand why Thranduil is asking, and yet there is something in the Elvenking's tone that makes him answer, instead of asking why he wants to know, that should he not know it, too.]
no subject
A living dragon?
no subject
Yes, but I fail to see what significance this has on someone who would turn away from the world, lock himself in his mighty halls and hide like a coward.
no subject
...Being called a coward, the king stiffens up and resists the urge to clench his teeth. His voice does raise just a touch, however.]
Cowardice is a word used by fools who have forgotten the meaning of caution. I have no need nor desire to justify my actions to you.
[Yes, we certainly have done this before, haven't we?]
no subject
And yet, you expect me to answer questions that you should already know the answers to.
no subject
As you continue to answer them, I feel no need to stop asking what I want to know.