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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Thorin tried to remain calm as he stared out the large window, but he could feel his nerves becoming more and more frayed. There had been no word about Oreliell or Lord Korvon. He had no idea if the plan they had set into motion had succeeded, or if she had encountered some unforeseen obstacle.
"She will be all right, laddie," Balin said, wringing his hands together. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, as well as Thorin. Thorin knew he was worried about his brother, just as he worried about Oreliell.
"Aye, he's right," Dain said. He was reclined in one of the armchairs, but appeared just as tense as the rest of them. "Oreliell will no doubt be back soon. She's a strong woman, Thorin."
Thorin knew that. Of course he did. She had proven that time and time again, with physical strength on the battlefield and strength of will and mind in his council. But this was not a situation that Thorin was familiar with, meanwhile he knew that Oreliell was. But none of that stopped Thorin from worrying about his One. They had been through too much recently and all he wished for was peace for the two of them.
Suddenly, the doors swung open, the heavy wood hitting the walls with a resounding thud. Thorin turned in surprise. Oreliell walked into the room, completely ignoring the guards standing in the hall. Thorin couldn't help but stare in awe. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes torn in numerous places. Cuts littered what skin he could see. Her breathing was deep, as if she had just exerted herself greatly.
What truly caught his attention was the dwarf she was dragging in by the collar of his shirt. The dwarrow looked worse than she did. His clothes and skin were torn deep, blood steadily spilling from the wounds. He had trouble keeping up with Oreliell, though Thorin credited that to his broken leg dragging limp behind him rather than their height difference. His wiry brown hair and beard were oddly cut, something a dwarf would never allow to happen to himself.
Oreliell stopped in the middle of the room and threw the dwarf to the ground in front of her. She glanced back at the doors.
"/Shut the door and do not disturb us,\" she commanded the guards.
They hurried to do so. Thorin faintly noticed Lord Korvon standing meekly by the doors, but his whole attention was on Oreliell. Despite being bleeding and bruised, she stood tall, seemingly larger than she typically stood. Her very presence commanded attention, and he could feel the waves of anger rolling off of her.
Thorin stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for her. This was her battle to lead. He would follow her lead.
"May I present Baralin," she said, "our thief, kidnapper, and would-be assassin. He is a member of the Morfaroth."
"What on earth happened to ya, lass?" Balin asked.
"Baralin didn't want to come peacefully. According to him, he came to the Lonely Mountain on a mission. He conspired with Lord Korvon to remove Tauriel, Vedis, and myself from the mountain by blaming us for the recent incidents."
