𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ━ lord of the rings

Eleven: Locked Away

The elven King's eyes scanned the ragged group set before him with distaste, blue eyes lingering on Nymmril for no more than a few heartbeats before landing finally on Thorin.

"The King under the Mountain. I was not aware you were still alive," came a chilling voice, beautiful in its coldness. Thorin glared up at the elf on his throne.

"The line of Durin is more durable than most seem to think."

"Indeed."

A silence settled over the throne room until Thranduil spoke again, thumb tracing the carven wood of his throne. "I would ask you why you are here, Thorin Oakenshield, were it not so painfully obvious on your desperate faces," the elf said. He leaned forward eloquently, eyes focused on the dwarf. "Your ventures have not gone unnoticed, even here in the Mirkwood."

Thorin eyed him wearily. "I may wish for them to have been invisible to the eyes of you elves yet," he said. At his words Thranduil laughed, a bitter sound, and leaned back in his throne.

"I'm certain you already do," the ruler smiled, all gleaming white teeth and dangerous eyes. "Legolas, onya, lock them away for now. I shall have words with Oakenshield away from his... companions."

The princeling bowed at his father's command, toeing towards the company and pulling them to their feet roughly under Thranduil's ever watchful eyes. One by one he and a few other elves filed the complaining dwarrow away from the platform, Nymmril bringing up the rear of the company yet again. He was about to start down the stairs leading down to the main pathway when Thranduil spoke again:

"Boy," he said, "I shall be wishing to speak to you later also."

Nymmril froze, stumbling slightly as he turned towards the elven King, who was watching him closely. Thorin scowled, and Thranduil's voice was the last thing the young man heard before he was pushed forward to follow after the others.

The shifter was shoved harshly from behind as he descended the spiralling staircases down into what he could only think to be the King's dungeons. It appeared he wasn't going to see as much of the realm as he would like. One of the elves grabbed him by his sleeves, tugging him towards them and throwing him into one of the cells, and he fell to the ground at the force applied.

"You alright laddie?" Gloin said quietly from beside him, helping the young man to his feet. It appeared he had a roommate. Nymmril smiled reassuringly, brushing the older dwarf's hands off.

"I'm perfectly fine. Nothing I can't handle," he replied. Gloin huffed, inspecting the cell, and Nymmril leaned against the wrought iron that barred him from the rest of the company, wrapping his hands around them. He watched as another weapon was found on Fili, smiling gently at the dwarf as he turned, rubbing at the blonde beard on his chin. "Do you reckon we'll ever get out?"

"Maybe," Gloin said.

"If we do," came a voice from the cell next to them, "It'll be after Durin's day, I'm sure!"

"Oi, don't dampen our resident smiler's spirits, Dori! Who do you think you are?"

Nymmril smiled as the dwarrow began to bicker, unfazed and already going back to their old ways. It truly was impossible to cage a dwarf's spirit, after all.

"Who do I think- I think I'm going to shove that earpiece up your arse in a minute if you -"

The skin-changer rested his head against the bars, tuning out the incessant arguing with a fond grin on his face. He inhaled deeply, running a hand through his flaxen mane as he did so, and slid slowly to the floor, back pressed against the cold, stone wall and eyes closed. He could hear Kili speaking with someone - a she-elf, perhaps the one that had saved him earlier - and a single green eye winked open to stare at the commotion. It seemed the youngest dwarf prince had become... fond of the auburn-haired elf, because as he watched them search his companions he stared up at her with a cocky smirk.

"Aren't you going to search me?" he said innocently. "I could have anything down my trousers."

"Or nothing," the she-elf replied with a raised eyebrow and tiny smile threatening to slip onto her face. She slammed the grilled door shut, ignoring the jeers and laughs her joke mustered from the rest of the dwarven prisoners. Kili stared after her as she walked away, eyes wide with fascination. Gloin chuckled from within their cell and Nymmril looked over towards him.

"I do not- Why is everyone laughing?" the shifter asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Gloin wheezed at the comment, and several more laughs were heard.

"You- Ahck, I'm not going to have this conversation with you, you're far too young."

Nymmril looked taken aback: "I am not young!" Fili's laugh was the loudest and the skin-changer's gaze swept towards him. "I'm not!"

"Young, pretty and clueless," the dwarf said. "It's no wonder Beorn snatched you up and hid you before anyone else got the chance ."

The Prince who had been speaking frustrated Silvan to Kili's she-elf stopped in his tracks at the top of the stairwell, listening in to the conversation with his elvish ears and a frown on his face.

Nymmril seemed to take offence to Fili's words with indignation. "My Keeper was not hiding me before you all came, he was simply doing what's best for me."

"That's what you think," Ori chimed in. "But it doesn't seem very fair locking you away for so long."

"Beorn is a good person, whatever you all may think-"

"Oh, I don't know-" another dwarf butted in, Bofur it was. "He seemed very... angry."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, and Nymmril frowned, scuffing his feet on the ground.

"He does have a rather bad temper, yes. But that's to be expected. You don't know him as I do," the shifter insisted, folding his arms across his chest adamantly. That seemed to be the end of it, Fili humming in reply but that was all. The Prince of Mirkwood finally left the dungeon, face set in a firm scowl of displeasure.

No sooner had Thorin been thrown into the confines of a cell with the rest of the company was Nymmril taken away. The skin-changer was almost glad, for it meant he missed out on a majority of the despondent scheming from the dwarrow - Balin leading the charge just as the auburn she-elf had wrapped a hand around the shifter's forearm and dragged him from out behind the prison bars.

"That's our only hope gone then," the elderly dwarf sighed turning away from the faces of his fellows. Nymmril felt his heart clenched in anger at Thorin for throwing away their only ticket to freedom.

"No... Not our only hope," Thorin said, staring at the place the young man had disappeared to.