The Hobbit Imagines

September 4

(Imagine Thorin visiting The Hunger Games)

Ceasar walked around in his dressing room. For this years annual Hunger Games he had his hair painted again. This time it was neon-green. But the guy who had done it had 'accidentally dropped' a bit of brown in his hair as well. So now his hair looked like a green bed of grass with bird poo on it. And it couldn't be fixed before the show started, they just had half an hour left.

'This day couldn't be better' he muttered. Sometimes Ceasar just hated these Games. He was the Master of Ceremonies for the Hunger Games and it was his job to make the tributes feel relaxed. But how could anyone feel relaxed when you knew 23 of the tributes who were send in, wouldn't get back... Of course the other districts had been wrong for rebelling against the Capitol, but for how long did they have to punish the districts?

Ceaser placed his hands on his desk and looked in the mirror in front of him. 'But we will make it a heck of a show again tonight!' But while he said it, he could see that he was lying in his own eyes. It was a mystery to him that no one had seen it before. If anyone would find out that he was doubting the Hunger Games, he wouldn't be alive for much longer. The Capitol wasn't only fighting against the districts, but also against everyone who asked questions about The Hunger Games.

He sighed and closed his eyes. How much longer did they have to go through with this? He opened his eyes and was shocked with what he saw. A man, who wasn't taller then his chest, stood behind him with a sword in his hands. Ready to attack him if he made one wrong move. Ceasar put his hands in the air and looked in the mirror at the man behind him.

'Now, don't do anything crazy. I'm not here to harm you' Ceasar said. But the man behind him didn't show a sign of putting his sword away. 'Why should I trust you?' a dominant voice asked him. 'Where am I?' Ceasar swallowed and tried to collect his courage. This wasn't one of the tributes. He had seen them on the TV and no one looked like the man who stood behind him right now. Carefully Ceasar turned around and came face to face with the unknown intruder.

'You are in Panem, the Capitol to be precise. But you sir, don't look like someone who is from around here. Am I correct?' Ceasar tried to sound as his usual self, but he did hear fright in his voice. Hopefully the man wouldn't notice it. The raven-haired man looked confused. 'I have never heard of Panem nor of the Capitol. Am I still in Middle-Earth?' Now it was Ceasar's turn to look confused. 'Middle-Earth? Oh! You mean the world from that book! Well, that's only fiction, not real...'

The man pointed his sword right under Ceasar's throat. Ceasar looked down at the man and saw determination in his eyes. This conversation wasn't going the way he wanted it to go. And of course there was no one around to help him. If he screamed he would have had his head cut off before anyone could get to him. So he quickly made up a plan. He would just have to go along with this crazy person. Maybe it would keep him alive.

'Middle-Earth is not a fictional world! Now tell me, why am I here?' the man bellowed at him. Ceasar swallowed, and as he did he felt the tip of the sword touching his adam's apple. 'Oh dear... Uhm... Well.. You see, I don't know why you are here... But, maybe it had to do something with that wizard? You know that guy... Uhm... What's his name?' The man looked down and realization seemed to hit him.

He withdrew his weapon from Ceasar's neck, who could finally breath again, and cursed. 'That bloody wizard. You are right. It must be Gandalf. But you just said that you only know my world from a book. What book are you talking about?' The man raised his eyebrows at Ceasar. But he was still to happy to breathe that he didn't answer straight away. After a few minutes he had his breath under control and explained everything to the man.

'By the way, my name is Ceasar. I'm the host of The Hunger Games. What's your name?' Ceasar smiled and tried to stir this conversation in another direction. Maybe he could get out alive of this after all. 'My name is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain' he said while crossing his arms. Thorin didn't look quite impressed with Ceasar, but it appeared he was curious about this green-haired man. And, wait, was that bird poo in his hair?

'But you were talking about some kind of games, what kind of games are they?' Ceasar smiled, finally something he could tell a lot about. Of course he had once heard of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. But he had never watched the movies nor read the books. 'Well, this year we celebrate the 70th Hunger Games. It is an annual occasion in which we reap two kids from all twelve districts, and we let them fight to the dead. But the winner get's...'

'Wait!' Thorin looked kind of shocked and disgusted. Ceaser stopped immediately and frowned at Thorin. What was the matter? 'You let kids fight to the death?!' Ceasar nodded. 'Yes, that's what I just said. But the winner get's fame and wealth. So it's a win-win situation' Ceasar showed Thorin his biggest smile but he didn't get it returned. Thorin looked at him like he had lost his mind.

'And for what reason do you do this?' Thorin asked dumbstruck. 'For entertainment.' Thorin's mouth dropped. 'And because the twelve districts have rebelled against us once, and this is their punishment.' Thorin shook his head and paced around. 'And I thought Middle-Earth was crazy at times...' he muttered to himself. 'Excuse me?' Ceasar asked. He didn't quite catch what Thorin just said, but he surely heard something around the line of him being crazy. And he definitely wasn't the crazy person in this room.

'Never mind. But who in his right mind would send twenty-four kids to their deaths by battling each other?!' Thorin spit at Ceasar who looked down in shame. This was the same question he had been asking himself for a long time. Who in his right mind would do this? The Capitol was punishing the districts for seventy years now... When would it be enough? When would it stop?

'And what if they chose to not fight each other?' Thorin asked. He didn't understand why these kids actually agreed to fight one another. They could chose to put their weapons down and to not entertain these weird people with their weird coloured-bird-poo hair. But he wouldn't say this to Ceasar. He hadn't mentioned it to Radagast, so he wouldn't tell the green-haired guy that he had bird poo in his hair.

'If they don't fight each other we send wild animals into the arena to kill them. Or we change the weather so that they freeze to death or die of starvation.' At this point Thorin looked absolutely horrified. 'What is wrong with you people?! Do you have no honour?! Punishing the grown-ups for nearly seventy years is one thing, but to let kids fight your battle for you... There is no honour in that. You should be ashamed of yourself.'

Ceasar wanted to respond by explaining that it wasn't that cruel, but Thorin started to fade away. Within a matter of seconds, he was vanished. 'Well, good rid dens. He would have been in a lot of trouble for questioning the Capitol.' Ceasar grabbed his bottle of water but put it down without drinking from it. What if Thorin had been right? Where they wrong for doing this? 'Ceasar you have five more minutes! You have to come backstage!' He shook his head and put his smile on. No, of course not, they had every right to do this, he told himself.

Thorin looked around and saw his Company surrounding him. 'Where have you been? You suddenly disappeared! Just like Gandalf and Bilbo did in the last two days!' Kili asked. But Thorin first sat himself down and buried his face in his hands. 'I don't want to know where I just went and I don't want to go there ever again.' Dwalin and Balin exchanged looks.

They knew the King for a long time. And whatever he had seen had been traumatizing to the King under the Mountain.