"My Lord, you cannot be serious." She protested in her typical monotone.
"I assure you that I am, my Lady. I want his head...then once Thror and Thrain are gone, we may yet have that mountain." Thranduil said in his own emotionless tone, glaring dow...
Oriana travelled with the highest protection. She wore a suit of armor, made entirely from Mithril chainmail. It was stronger than diamonds and light as anything.
On her head, she wore a crown of woven white cherry branches, a white diamond sitting in the center of her forehead. A few white blossoms were in bloom on either side of her head.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
Oriana entered the mountain with two guards that were her escorts. Gaining the attention of most every dwarf they passed, men going slack-jawed at the vision that glided by so effortlessly in full chainmail, her soft curls had been braided to the side, hanging over her shoulder on her chest. Reaching down to her naval at the very end of her silver weaving.
With her, she carried a high elf blade, a short sword with a long handle, sheathed on her back, beside her long bow and deep colored, leather quiver of arrows with lavender feathers and dark wood. She always used light purple feathers, it wasn't only her favorite color, but nobody else used them. Anyone who knew arrows would recognize it as her "calling card" of sorts.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
When Oriana reached the throne with her guides, she held a fist over her heart and bowed to Thror. She knew that he had the dragon sickness, it was blatantly obvious by only looking at him.
"Who are you to approach the King Under the Mountain?" The King himself questioned.
Oriana stood to her full height again. "Your Majesty, I am Princess Oriana of Lothlorien. I mean to stay in Erebor to arrange the rest of my journey home. To stay as a guest in these Great Mountain Halls." She tried to sound as regal as possible, wanting to make a good impression.
The King glared down at her, he trusted no elf that he did not already know...even then he was biased. "No...go back to your fairy king and tell him that none of his kin are welcome." Thror grunted.
"I an not his kin...I am of no relation to Thranduil. I have my own land to return to, and I would very much like to do so as soon as possible. Has the hospitality of Dwarves faded so quickly, your Highness?" She asked, with only distaste at the mention of Thranduil.
Thror began to fill with digust and hate towards Oriana. He was about to yell for guards to imprison her, but a low voice rang out. "Grandfather, allow the elf to stay." Oriana was surprised to see a dwarf man approaching so openly, his eyes were such a blue that they could be elvish. "It would be a demonstration of good will. Durin's Day is soon to come, she might stay for the festival and learn a thing or two." The Dwarf further explained. Oriana's eyes fixed on the dwarf Prince that walked to Thror's side. No doubt, it was Thorin.
He was a young man, with dark brown hair and a short beard, but still impressive, he wore a total blue tunic, black trousers, boots, a fur coat, and a sword on his back. He was very tall for a dwarf, nearly five foot. His blue eyes were also fixed upon the Princess.
Oriana looked him up and down before bowing her head slightly. Thorin nodded. "She seems respectful...make her a guest of honor, Grandfather. I shall guard her personally while she's here to keep her hands away from our riches." Thorin proposed.
Thror grunted a few curses in Khuzdul...Oriana was disgusted, as she knew the language well. "I have no interest in riches, I only want to go home." She said honestly.
The King sighed and waved a hand, dismissing her. Thorin put his hand on Thror's shoulder, a smile on his face before he looked to Oriana again, still smiling. "Come. I'm sure you would like a tour. Only of the upper levels, of course. I've heard your people don't do well under ground." Thorin motioned for her to follow him.
She went, her guards behind her. "That is a very considerate thought, your Majesty. Though, I don't mind the underground. I rather enjoy the aeroma of forge smoke." Oriana shrugged her shoulders.
"An elf maiden that enjoys the forge...a princess no less? You must be really very strange, my Lady. I suspect we shall get along just fine." He said as they entered the Great Hall.
"You flatter me." Oriana said, still unchanging in her plain stone expression.
"'Twas not my intention. Is calling someone strange considered flattery to elves?" He asked with a light chuckle.
"No...I merely appreciate being thought of as more than a standard. Normality is terribly boring." She said...this surprised Thorin. He has never heard anyone say that, especially not a maiden.
