[ Thorin stops in mid-stride, turning, and for a long moment it seems if he's about to bear down on the hobbit with all the indignant, self-righteous anger that he is capable of bringing to bear. Thorin has become terribly unused to being challenged, his own kin would think twice, even thrice, before standing against him even with the best of intentions. To face such defiance from a halfling, brave or no, would have been a ludicrous suggestion in the past, even as recent as weeks ago. For a while even Bilbo stood quietly by his side, saying nothing until he could hold in his doubts no longer, risking a wrath more terrible and dangerous than it ever should have been.
But it is not the mad shadow of a king that stands before Bilbo now. Nor is it the same Thorin Oakenshield that came through his door at Bag End, many months and miles ago.
He settles back on his heels, regarding his friend with his arms crossed over his chest. Not as he would in backing down from an obstacle, but rather as if he's been met with an opposing force that cannot, should not, simply be shouldered through by pure force of will. ]
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But it is not the mad shadow of a king that stands before Bilbo now. Nor is it the same Thorin Oakenshield that came through his door at Bag End, many months and miles ago.
He settles back on his heels, regarding his friend with his arms crossed over his chest. Not as he would in backing down from an obstacle, but rather as if he's been met with an opposing force that cannot, should not, simply be shouldered through by pure force of will. ]
I'm listening, Master Baggins.