One Ring||Reader Insert

4 ~ Still Prisoner

Gandalf had managed his way down the boulder quite easily. He went about untying the dwarves, with your help. It was a good thing your arms were unbound for dinner. Thorin was the first up and ready, retrieving his sword from the pile the trolls had made.

"Where did you go?" Thorin asked, looking harshly your way. 

Gandalf huffed.

"To look ahead."

"What brought you back?"

Gandalf smiled. "Looking behind." The old wizard cast his gray eyes back to the group of struggling dwarf men. "Nasty business. Still, they are in one piece."

Thorin chuckled critically. You looked down at him with a scowl. A bit of optimism would do him some good, or at least it would do you some good.

"No thanks to your burglar," he met your stare. It was odd how powerful he seemed, how threatening from a foot below you. "Or your pets."

Gandalf set a large hand on your shoulder, tightening like a clamp.

"They had the knowledge to stall for time," his tone changed again, and the sun seemed dimmer from above. "None of the rest of you thought of that."

I didn't think at all, you thought to yourself, blushing. What was I even doing? Pretending to be a witch?

That same ugly feeling came rushing back to you. They had been fighting for their lives, and you'd hidden behind a pony. What good were you in this world if you couldn't defend yourself, or others?

Thorin walked away. His pride was damaged far to easily.

"Some king," you muttered, angrily. You didn't enjoy being rude to people, but he just got on your nerves!

"What was that, dear?"

You looked up at Gandalf. You were the middle ground here; the dwarves were short, and you were average, and Gandalf towered over you all. But you were also the youngest. Gandalf was hundreds of years old, and gray from head to toe, and the youngest of them was Bilbo, but he was fifty! It was a grand thing they all aged slowly in comparison to humans. Bilbo could pass to be in his thirties as a mortal - if he had a sudden growth spurt.

"I want to learn to use a sword," you told him. You didn't want to feel useless on this quest, and once you returned home, that would still be a neat skill on resumes.

Come on. Who doesn't want to use a sword?

Surprise. That was Gandalf's sole emotion. But it vanished so quickly and was replaced by such a thoughtful look you could've passed it off as a trick of the light.

"I don't think Thorin will be happy to hear that," Gandalf said.

"I don't care," you answered, looking off to Thorin. He was the epitome of anyone with control issues. "My hands hurt," you flexed your fingers, "I'm tired of walking. This sucks."

The tip of Gandalf's staff smacked against the ground softly. He hummed, the way he did when he was thinking, and watched the dwarves.

"Blunt of you to say, but I understand. I will discuss this with Thorin soon, once we reach where I want to bring you."

"The elves?" You asked. "He won't bring anyone near them. That's why we're in this situation in the first place!"

"No...he will not."

The dwarves were stomping off. They'd decided there was a cave nearby, since the trolls were about so close to dawn. Treasure would lure them anywhere.

"You know the future, don't you?"