‘Some days,’ Thorin thought to himself, ‘it might be best to stay at the forge and sleep in a loft.’
No matter how hungry a dwarf was.
Both of his very young nephews looked up at him with hopeful eyes, hoping, praying, he would over-ride their mother.
“Pwease?” Kili’s two front teeth were missing, giving him an adorable – usually – lisp.
“Uncle Thorin, he’s so scared, lookit him!” Fili was quite adamant. “He’s shaking!”
“They can’t keep it!” Dis was furious and hissing. “It needs to be… disposed of!”
“HE’TH NOTH TWASH!” Oh no. Kili was upset and starting to cry. That wouldn’t bode well for anyone trying to sleep this evening. When he got this way, he normally ended up in someone else’s bed… and usually Thorin was The Someone else. The youngest of the line of Durin was clutching the … thing… to his chest and it made Thorin’s chest contract.
“We named him ‘Socks’.” Fili was clutching the animal so tightly, Thorin wondered how it was breathing. Perhaps, he should just allow him to strangle it.
Thorin flinched. In naming the creature, they made it difficult to remove it from their home. While he had no problem with pets and had made this known to Dis, she was right: this ‘pet’ could not stay. Reaching over their heads, he motioned, all but demanding Fili hand the thing over. “Where did you find it?”
Both dwarflings looked at each other, wide-eyed and knowing they were now in serious trouble.
With the creature now in hand, Thorin tried to keep from glowering. “I need to know where you found it. You have taken it from its nest. The mother will be angry and looking for him. Now tell me where you found him, so I can put him back.” Kili was sobbing. “I promise; you will not get in trouble.”
In stammering whispers, Fili told him. As he suspected, the dwarflings and several of their friends had wandered too far from the boundaries of the Blue Mountain and in leaving with the thing in his arms, Thorin whispered to Dis to have a chat with their friends parents and to ensure the young ones were better supervised when they left the confines of the mountain to play.
Gathering up arms, he called up a large group of dwarves, all of them battle-hardened warriors and fighters.
Wargs. A nest of wargs too close to their home. If there were wargs, there were orcs. Dwalin was more excited than he had been in a year.
He had to admit, as he looked down at the baby warg, asleep in his arms, that they were kind of cute when they were little.
Before they grew fangs.
Started and completed 03/31/13