destitute ~ The feeling of lacking something and incapable of feeling said thing.
~ You can't run away from your battles, because battles turn into wars until you're left broken beyond measure
I DO NOT own the hobbit, the characters or their stories. I only own my OC character Nikoleva and her story
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"Can't say that I fancy elf maids myself. Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin... Not enough facial hair for me," He said as Dwalin nodded to him, smirking. "Although, that one there'es not that bad" He cocked his head behind him to a passing elf.
"That is not an elf maid" The tattooed dwarf replied with a wink as Kili looked to see the elf turning to him with, revealing that he was a male. The company burst out in laughter as the brunette sunk down in his chair and started to pick at his food.
"That's funny"
On a table a bit away from the rest of the company, Thorin, Gandalf and Lord Elrond sat talking about the swords that they had found in the goblin caves.
"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well" Elrond handed the sword back to Thorin, who nodded gratefully before the elven lord examined Gandalf's. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age..." He handed the sword back to him before raising his eyebrows in suspicion.
"How did you come by these?" He asked.
"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs!" Gandalf told him.
"And what were you doing by the great east road?"
Thorin started to look unsettled and stood up. "Excuse me" He muttered before getting up and joining his company at the other tables.
Nori turned to the harp player behind him. "Change the tune, why don't you? I feel like I'm at a funeral!"
"Did somebody die?" Oin exclaimed, not hearing what his companion had said correctly.
"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it!" Bofur exclaimed, standing up and jumping on the table. He began to sing and so did the others.
"There's an inn, a merry old inn... Beneath an old grey hill... And they brew a beer so brown... That the man in the moon himself came down... One night to drink his fill... The ostler has a tipsy cat... That plays a five-stringed fiddle!"
The company began to throw food around the room as they laughed and continued singing.
"And up and down he runs his bow... Now squeaking high, now purring low... Now sawing in the middle... So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle... A jig that would wake the dead... He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune... while the landlord shook the man on the moon... It's after three! He said"
Lord Elrond and the other elves looked mortified and shocked at the dwarves' behaviour, all while Gandalf smiled sheepishly at him. Soon the dinner had ended and Gandalf pulled the elven lord aside.
