The Undecided Title Of Sara Miller *Hobbit Fanfiction* (Thorin/OC)

Chapter 18: Visitor

In which Thorin has a visitor.

Thorin sat on the small veranda at the end of the hallway, his boots propped up on a small table, pipe in hand, staring up at the looming rock wall above him. Normally he would have taken some amount of comfort from the rocks and stones surrounding him as he suspected Lord Elrond had hoped he would, but here in Imladris with the weight of the quest constant on his mind and his fears of the elves interference, the towering stone felt more like a great wall preventing his departure. True, Elrond had been an exemplary host and there had been no hostility shown him nor his company. In fact, Thorin was grudgingly aware just how much he owed to the elf lord. He had welcomed his company into his home, fed and supplied them, to say nothing of his healing both Bofur and Ms. Sara in such a short time. This the elf lord had done, all the while showing great patience toward him, his company, and the watch which Dwalin had insisted they station outside the girls room. Thorin could well understand the warriors deep held prejudice of the elves as Thorin himself still held much resentment towards them, but unlike Dwalin he knew they were in no position to be selective who they sought aid from. He also knew they could not afford to insult the elves but Thorin had given in to the warriors wishes, mostly to put Dwalin at ease, but there was also a small part of himself that was comforted by the idea and he was glad the idea had been suggested by someone other than him.

This plan had indubitably made Gandalf irritable and the wizard had tried to sway them but he had apparently underestimated just how attached the warrior had grown to Ms. Sara. In the end the Gandalf had stormed off telling them to do as they pleased but warned Thorin that he would have to work all the harder to be pleasant around Elrond. Thorin didn't think he could be pleasant to an elf, so had settled for as polite as he could manage, which usually meant simply, or not so simply, holding his tongue and not speaking unless necessary. Indeed, he had found tonight's dinner to be rather trying. Gandalf had insisted they ask Elrond about runes on the swords they had found in the troll hoard, and it had been rather reluctantly that Thorin had surrendered the exquisitely made blade to the elf lord. The fact that the weapons were crafted by elves came as little surprise to them as Gandalf had already suspected as much. What had surprised Thorin was the two swords apparent notoriety as they were rather famous blades made by the High Elves in Gondolin for the Goblin Wars of old. The two blades were named Orcrist as was Thorin's and Glamdring as was Gandalf's. Thorin's heart had sunk when Elrond has spoken of the swords and their history knowing that they must be of great value and he already missed the familiar weight of Orcrist in his hand. But the elf lord had done something then that he had not expected, Elrond had returned the weapons to he and Gandalf with a wish that they keep them well. Thorin had fully expected Lord Elrond to insist that the swords remain with him for had the roles been reversed he could not see himself, nor indeed any dwarf, surrendering such a magnificent blade to an elf. Gandalf, on the other hand, did not seem phased in the least and thanked the elf eloquently and turned to look at Thorin who had recovered quickly accepting the blade form Elrond and pledged to wield Orcrist with honor. It was then, however, that the conversion had turned sour, for elf lord would know how they came to possess such heirlooms of his house. This topic lead dangerously close to their purpose for being on the great East West road. Thorin was well aware that Gandalf had not yet revealed to the elf lord their quest and he took this moment to excuse himself and leave the wizard to the finer nuances of sidestepping Elrond's searching questions. Not wishing to endure the company of any other elves just now he returned to his room, but finding himself too restless for sleep he had retired to the veranda with his pipe, and here he sat feeling no better than he had before.

Much weighed heavy on Thorin's mind of late and not just the elves. There was also the question of who wanted him dead enough to hire mercenaries and an orc pack to track him. Clearly it was not someone of small repute. The thugs he could imagine being hired by many a person and he could even think of some who would have a motive, but he could not believe that any of these individuals would be so desperate or foolish to have turned to orcs. That would be like inviting a dragon into one's treasury to discuss payment and expecting to live to see the sunrise. He was not sure what he should do. True he was safe from threat at the moment tucked away here in Rivendell, but it could not last. Soon, he hoped, the company would be moving on into wilder and more treacherous country. He knew his dwarves were in it for the thick and thin of things and that even if he were to try and send them back they would not go, insisting they continue the quest till death if he led. But Thorin felt uneasy with the continued presence of the hobbit and girl. His dwarves were one thing, they could look out for themselves, and had joined the quest expecting no small amount of trouble; but the two additions were not prepared for such violence, and though they had both shown their tenacity in moments of great peril, they were neither one of them prepared for the dangers he feared were ahead. It would be poor gratitude to the girl who is saved his kin and the young scribe to lead her into the waiting arms of an orc pack again. She had barely come through the last skirmish with her life and if it had not been for the skills of Elrond, he was sure she would have been lost.