- The Wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They’re less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not. - What do you mean? - These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing. And you are on foot.
Dwalin sat stunned in the
threadbare armchair. He watched Y/N as she stomped away from him, her bare feet
as thunderous as boots. The door slammed behind her and she disappeared into
the corridor while he tried to sort through his sudden flood of thoughts. He
could not fathom why she would have put on such a display and all for him…
He had been certain that
she hated him. When they had stood at the altar and he had seen the look in her
eyes; dread, resignation, disgust. He had not truly thought out the marriage but instead recklessly listened to that voice in his head which he so often
ignored. It had been more to him than a last chance, for at his age he was well
past eligibility, but a dream come true.
Fire leaped from the dragon’s jaws. He circled for a while high in the air above them lighting all the lake; the trees by the shores shone like copper and like blood with leaping shadows of dense black at their feet. Then down he swooped straight through the arrow-storm, reckless in his rage, taking no heed to turn his scaly sides towards his foes, seeking only to set their town ablaze