There were few people that Thorin Oakenshield trusted. He trusted his kin, but that was it. After losing the Lonely Mountain, the dwarves of Erebor were looked down upon by many races of Middle Earth and elves had a special place of distrust in Thor...
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"Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!"
"Not- not that one! He's infected!"
"You what?"
"Yeah. He's got worms in his... tubes."
The troll that had grabbed Bombur immediately dropped him, much to the misfortune of Kili and Oin. Thorin couldn't help but wince.
"In fact they all have them. They're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."
The trolls exchanged looks while the dwarves started to shout at Bilbo again.
"Are all dwarves this dense?" a voice suddenly said from behind Thorin. Thorin's head snapped back, searching for the source of the voice. He could have sworn he recognized it. He was about to speak when the person shushed him. "You lot are making this extremely difficult."
