One Ring||Reader Insert

2 ~ Mom, Come Pick Me Up I'm Scared

They made you walk the whole day. The whole day. Did they think you were an Olympian?

When they finally made camp(proving just how deep in the wilderness you were), you were tied to a tree and left there on the outskirts.

They huddled around their fire in conspiracy. You realized they didn't know who you were, after hearing them debate for a few minutes. So, you decided, not a bad thing. Not necessarily good, either.

You tried to wriggle out of the bonds, but it did you no good. You were exhausted, and hungry, and all you earned from your attempts was rope burn on your skin. Eventually, you sank into the bark and grass with a heavy sigh.

It was a nice spot. Of course, you're thinking that, even though you're scared out of your mind and literally shaking in your boots, you could appreciate how pretty this place was.

Whatever country you were in - the New Zealand, you think the movies were filmed in - how did you get all the way here? It was gorgeous.

Camp was on a cliffside overlooking an endless sea of black trees glittering in the moonlight. Lakes and streams ran through the forest floor far below, and birds soared down to their nests for a night's well earned rest. It looked otherworldly. You'd never seen such a beautiful, remote location in all your years.

Then your dazing was caught off.

The first to approach you was Thorin. He stood ahead of you, brushing his sword against the ground in a threatening manner as the rest of the company watched behind him.

"You're human," he muttered in his gruff voice. You would've laughed, but you were so shell shocked that for now, you were just numb and mildly concerned.

And confused. So confused.

"Yes?" You said, pulling a face. "I've yet to meet someone who isn't."

"I am not of your race, girl," he spit, holding his blade near your chest. You could feel your heart now, beating loud and fast in your throat.

You looked up at him. His fierce blue eyes were icy cold, but they were glazed in warm wrath all directed at you. Did he mean...?

"But you're still human."

The cold metal bit at your neck. One wrong word, Thorin's eyes said, and you'll be a headless corpse.

"Okay," you whispered, holding back a whimper as you looked down the sword to him. "I'm sorry, you're a dwarf!"

That seemed to satisfy him, but not enough to pull back his blade. You glanced back at the others watching you. They looked worried. Most of them. They must not want to see you beheaded. Comforting.

"You said your name is (Y/n)?"

Had you? You were so scared when you woke up you weren't quite sure what information you gave them. You squeaked an affirmative.

"Of whose house?"

"House?" You thought back to all the Game of Thrones murmurings you had heard during it's popularity spike. "Oh! (L/n)! (Y/n) (L/n)!"

Thorin finally, finally lowered his sword.

"I have not heard of it."

"Probably because I'm not from Middle Earth," you said sarcastically. Ballsy, you realized, noticing his sword sway dangerously against the grass.

"Not of Middle Earth?" His long, black hair fluttered in the wind. "Where do you expect me to believe you from, filth? Dwarves are not so foolish as men. Are you from Rhun? Near Harad?"