“Gandalf.” The king said warmly, “I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way. Twice.”
Bella snorted despite herself, trying to quickly cover it with a cough though it turned into a real cough when Thorin’s intense gaze turned to her.
“So,” he said, eyeing her up and down, “this is the hobbit.”
“Bella.” She corrected automatically, drawing herself to her full height (which honestly wasn’t very impressive when she was her real size let alone when she was smaller than a dwarf).
“What is she wearing?” Thorin addressed Gandalf and Bella bristled. She had never changed from the sweatpants and tanktop she had worn to bed- finding that all of her clothes had been replaced by long skirts, flowy tops, and corsets.
“She is standing right here. And she is wearing clothes, Mr. Oakenshield, the same as you. Though I managed to find my way here on time, which is where we differ.” She snapped.
The fact that it was her house and she had woken up there was unimportant.
Thorin’s mouth quirked into a smirk, “She looks more like a school teacher than a burglar.”
“I’ll have you know,” Bella ground out, “that I am a writer.”
“What is your weapon of choice?” Thorin continued like she had never even spoken, “Axe or Sword?”
“I don’t know, which one is better for smacking you upside the head with?”
The dwarf finally looked away as Gandalf walked up to him, nodding at the wizard in greeting. “Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.”
The young brother dwarves laughed softly amongst themselves, muttering something about “Uncle Thorin’s sense of direction.” Apparently the regal dwarf got lost quite frequently, though Bilbo would never dare to point that out to him. He’d rather keep all of his limbs.
teaser to my upcoming fic Amrâlumê, Thorin’s sense of direction.