Hope
Author: wanderingsmith
may 2014
Summary: "Laddie, there is no hope. We are all prisoners here."
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
"Laddie, there is no hope. We are all prisoners here."
"No. We are not *all* prisoners."
Balin's breath caught, both grieved to have not given their burglar
the respectful thought he deserved before now, and heartsick at the
blind hope he heard in his king's voice, "Oh lad.. he's dead."
Thorin's heart cramped at the word, face paling as he stepped
forward to grip his prison bars, uselessly straining to see his old
friend's face to read the truth there. He had to swallow to unlock
his throat enough to let even husked words out. "You saw him dead?"
Waiting for Balin's answer, Thorin could not breathe, caught on the
knife edge of his raw faith in their hobbit, and having life deal
yet another blow to his heart.
Balin did not need to see his old friend to recognize the terror
that had replaced the hope. How many more times could he have his
world taken from him and still remain sane? And Balin's words would
not help him... "No, I did not see him fall. But alone in that
forest, even a warrior-"
Thorin's shoulders dropped in sharp relief, though his voice picked
up fierceness as he finally growled back, knuckles turning white
where they still gripped the bars, glaring at the wall opposite as
though he could see out to where their comrade roamed, "He IS a
warrior. And I will not give up faith in him again until I touch his
cold dead corpse!"
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