Different Sense

Different Sense: 32

The travelling group entered Lake Town just as the sun was dwindling. The setting sun made the enormous lake, which the town got its name sake from, glow a warm golden colour.

There was a jetty which looked out onto the glowing surface of water. There was a little fishing boat docked nearby to one side. It gently moved with the waves of the lake.

Thorin wished to sit there, in peace, stare out at the water. He could pretend there was no quest. That there was no dragon, no gold, no key for him to get into a door he could not see, and above all else – the one thought which made him feel like an utter coward – was that he wished he could pretend not to be the rightful King and that this whole thing was someone else's problem.

It was an awful feeling to have, knowing that somewhere deep inside him; he wished this burden was someone else's to carry, and not his. Of course he never voiced his feelings.

He was Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, and last King under the Mountain. A temperamental dwarf, who was constantly throwing scowls at anyone and anything. Regardless of his ever short temper, Thorin had been made into a strong king to be. He had been projected to such a role, saviour seemed so much more serious than king. 

Bard had introduced them to the master of the town. He was a big, grey haired man. His eyes were also of a steely grey colour to match his hair. He wore simple, humble clothes despite his position. He promised to them fresh clothes for the morning, as well as their weapons to be looked after and they would be given ponies too.

Thorin had accepted all his offers with gratitude. No one had been so good to them in such a long time. He spoke in length with the Town Master, about his plans and travels, the elderly man sat and listened. A thoughtful look was in his eyes as his gaze drifted around the group, then back to Thorin. Everyone enjoyed and revelled in the merry atmosphere, which had been missing for so long. 

Lothiriel was present at the beginning of this, but she had promptly left, frowning deeply and seemingly in a bad mood. She did say a brief farewell, there was a moments silence while she exited the room.

That was just under an hour ago. Everyone believed she just needed some air, or alone time, but she had not yet returned.

“I apologise,” Thorin turned to look at the Town Master. “I do not know what has bought a foul mood over Lothiriel.”

“Perhaps you should go find out, King Thorin.” The Town Master smiled, although his smile was a happy one. His eyes gave off a rather awkward glint. It was a hard stare which the Town Master sent at Thorin, he didn't say anymore; standing up he excused himself and walked away from the company.

----

Lothiriel stood on the jetty, shutting her eyes she took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She needed out of that place. She needed to find somewhere calm for a moment, and the lake with its calming dark surface greeted her.

Lothiriel didn't like Lake Town, she didn't like the people and she certainly didn't like Bard and his patronising smiles and she definitely didn't like the Town Master with his secretive sarcastic tones and hard eyes.  

The more those two people plagued her thoughts the more she wanted desperately to run away from this place and get as far away from them as possible. They angered her, so much. They were two new people to anger her, they could join the ranks of her uncle.

She stomped her foot on the dark wood of the jetty. “Are you mad?” Thorin's voice sounded from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, he was standing at the start of the jetty.

“I am not mad.”

 “Then do you care to explain why you ran out, and why you have been frowning throughout the whole evening?” His heavy boots echoed against the wood until they stopped behind her.

“I do not like it here.” She said honestly yet quietly, she hung her head and shook is sadly.

“Why?”

“The people; I don't like them.”

“Why?”

Lothiriel frowned and turned to look at him with narrowed amber eyes. “Are you blind, or are you stupid, or are you both at the same time?” She asked, Thorin's blue eyes just gazed down at her. “I hope, perhaps it is the first.”

“And why is that?”

Lothiriel slapped a hand to her forehead. “I never took you for an oblivious dwarf, Thorin. While everyone talks and jokes, I sit and watch and listen. I see the way everyone acts around you; they are mocking you, Thorin.” She said sadly. “Each word you say is received by mocking indifference. They give you false pleasantries, I believe they act this way because...let us all be honest; they've probably benefited from your downfall.” She rolled her hand thoughtfully. “But now, you have returned! You have returned to take back your home and surely this interferes with their agendas. They urge you on, encourage your quest, because they believe that your demise will come from Smaug. Once you have gone, they won't have to worry about bowing to someone.” She exhaled heavily. “We are but fifteen, our aim is to take on a dragon who is seemingly impossible to beat, let alone by so few! We've known that since the beginning, they know it and they sit and humour us all. I don't like it,” Lothiriel put her hands in her pockets. “I don't like knowing that once they return to their private quarters they laugh at us. They don't believe in this quest, and they certainly don't believe in you.” She finished quietly, Thorin just looked at her rather blankly which caused her to raise an eyebrow. “Why do you look at me like that? Are you deaf too?”

“I know.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know how they act,” he smiled down at her. “I know of their mocking ways; so no. I am not blind, I am not stupid and nor I am a deaf.”

“Sorry...but what?”

“Now who is the one who is possibly deaf?” Thorin questioned lightly, Lothiriel removed a hand from her pocket and lightly hit him on the arm. “It doesn't matter to me of how they act. They offer us food, drink, a place to stay, ponies, that is all I ever wanted from them. Nothing more.”

“...You tolerate them?”

“Well someone has to.” He said in a teasing tone, Lothiriel crossed her arms tightly and frowned at him. “I honestly thought you would have too, but...seemingly I am sorely mistaken.”

Lothiriel looked down at the jetty, “Perhaps, a prelude grudge may have obscured my vision.” She said quietly, it may have been partially true. Her father and mother disliked the race of men. Maybe her mind was automatically on 'dislike mode' when it came to them. So then no matter what they'd say or do, she'd instinctively take a dislike towards them.