Thorin vs Thorns - Prompt kindly provided by LavenderCrystalofRoses
Dwalin has said it a thousand times, and he'd say it once more just for good measure.
Thorin Oakenshield could be a prideful pain and a stubborn fool when he wanted to be.
Admittedly though, watching his best friend and liege lord struggle and swear in the vicious entrapment of what could well have been the granddaddy of all thorn-thickets had proved to be an amusing highlight in Dwalin's day.
"Are you sure you don't need –" Dwalin began only for Thorin to swear at him. Loudly.
"No, I don't need you're help," Thorin sneered, struggling to keep his cool as he fought of a particularly curly strand of thorns that had somehow crept under his coat and tunic and into his undershirt. None of it could possibly have gotten any more humiliating. Regardless of how many awkward, embarrassing and downright shameful scenarios he and Dwalin had seen one another in over their long history, this had to be one of the stupidest.
He was just glad that his incorrigible nephews had once again skilfully managed to distract themselves for the time being.
The sound of leaves crunching and nature being disturbed in general was accompanied by loud, obnoxious guffawing which was quickly punctuated by a yelped 'ow!' There was absolutely no way Thorin's day could get any worse. This was going to ruin his reputation as 'the stern uncle' forever.
Unless…
"Quick, get me out of here!" he whisper yelled at Dwalin who continued to sit impassively on a nearby log. A single furry eyebrow was raised incredulously in response.
"You're asking for my help?"
Thorin growled and gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to smack the burly warrior around the back of the head.
"Yes," he muttered sullenly, wincing as he pulled on a thin strand of thorns that had managed to entrench itself even in his short beard.
Dwalin leaned forward with a furrowed brow, cupping a hand to his ear. The sound of Thorin's garrulous nephews drew ever nearer.
"Sorry, what was that?" Dwalin feigned deafness and Thorin swore under his breath, closing his eyes as though that would make the shame lessen.
"Help me." Thorin stated the words, grimacing. Dwalin shot him a pointed look and Thorin swallowed some imaginary bile as he added a half-hearted 'please.'
"Sure," the warrior obligingly stood and drew a long hunting knife, the edge razor sharp, honed to perfection and suited for bloodier work than massacring thorn thickets. Dwalin crouched beside Thorin and, with a few deft cuts, loosened the hold that the thicket had on him. Then it was just the matter of untangling, which was pursued with no small amount of cursing and a little rather over-zealous yanking on Dwalin's behalf whilst his friend hissed in pain.
The knife flashed many more times but it was only a relatively short time later that Thorin was pulled free, his hair, beard and clothes dishevelled. With the myriad of thin, stinging cuts that decorated his skin he looked as though he had gone a few rounds with a particularly vicious cat. And lost.
His release coincided perfectly with the return of Fíli and Kíli, who, young and foolish though they were, could not miss their uncle's present, rather ruffled appearance. Between the cuts, torn clothing, the absolute mess of his hair and beard, as well as the decimated thicket behind, it was not hard for them to surmise exactly what happened.
Twin mischievous grins lit up their hairless faces in unison. Thorin stifled a groan and glowered heavily at the two, as though daring them to even consider mentioning it.
"See," Dwalin said smugly. "If you had of asked for my help sooner, they would never have known."
"Yes," Fíli nodded sympathetically whilst eyeing a series of shallow slashes across his uncle's cheek and forehead. "We never would have noticed."
Kíli sniggered.
Prompt:
-Anyone Capable of getting tangled in the granddaddy of all thorn thickets is perfectly capable of insisting that he is perfectly capable of getting out by himself... even though the reality is he may need, at best, a little bit of aid.