Things should start getting a little more exciting now! I'm starting to gather all my plots/plans/purposes for this story, and getting a brief outline together. If there's anything y'all want to see, please, send suggestions to me!
Secondly, I just now figured out how to read reviews! So...yeah. Sorry about the delay!
thewolf74 - yes, Thorin didn't kill anyone. But why are they blaming him? Hmmm...that's the question...
MiyonzMae - here's your next chapter. Hit me with your questions!
And, as I said before, I don't own anything of Tolkien's, except for a large number of his published works that anyone can buy and which sit on my bookshelf, worn from use.
The sky was gray, threatening rain. Thorin stared up at it, squinting, even though the half-morning light was still dark and gentle. His head ached, and as he lifted his hand to rub his eyes, a sharp pain in his wrist jerked him to a sitting position.
"Mahal!" he groaned, gingerly touching the red mark that burned on his skin. "It really happened."
He wasn't sure where he was exactly, but he couldn't be far from home. Judging by the prints in the dirt, he had been carried on horseback, dumped on the ground, and left to…strike out on his own, die, wait for someone to find him, be easy prey for wild animals, who knows? He had nothing but the clothes on his back – his pants, boots, and light undershirt he slept in. There was a small carving knife in his pocket, but it wouldn't be much help.
With a groan, he got to his feet and surveyed the landscape. The old hunting road that led to the first snaked off to his left. To the right, if he walked a good few miles, he would be back at the town, with his family. But he couldn't go.
Banished.
The word stuck in his throat. Banished. Thorin, a dwarf prince, banished from his home like a thief of the streets. He should be back at Erebor, receiving honor and glory as a son of Durin, but now here he was, penniless, weaponless, and viewed as a murderer.
Banished.
Not that their little hut was much of a home, but he could never enter it again. He could never even get close enough to see it without the risk of death. For all of its nastiness and poor quality, it was much better than the open sky. At least it was warm in winter. At least it kept the rain off their heads. And now he had nothing.
Banished.
Dis. Frerin. Father. Grandfather. He would never see them again. Their smiling faces, their bright eyes, he would never again look upon them. Would they be alright without him? Would father and Frerin be able to make enough money to support them? And who would protect Dis? Frerin would have to grow up a little more, and put away his books if he was ever going to be responsible.
Banished.
Thorin roared, tipping his head back to the sky and letting out every frustration. He kicked the dirt, screamed again, and sat down, staring at the horizon, behind which lay his family. What was he to do?
Banished.
Go. He would go, and he would live, and he would survive. He would not let this kick him down. He would only rise to the challenge. He was a son of Durin, and in times of trouble, they trudged on, stubbornly perhaps, but they always triumphed, in the end.
Banished.
Those foolish boys. Those mean, cruel, hateful boys. He had fallen right into their trap. Had they planned this from the first taunt thrown at his siblings, or was this merely an attempt to get back at him for teaching them a lesson in manners?
Banished.
All because he had protected his little brother and sister from cruel men. All because of a few little sword cuts. All because of men. Why had they done this to him? He had never done anything to them beyond a few hard knocks, which other children had surely given them before. Why would they accuse him of such wrong-doing?
Banished.
Thorin stood, whispered a farewell to the village, and put it behind him. The forest was close, and it could probably reach it before the rain let loose. With quick, hurried strides, he trotted along the hunting path, his small carving knife in his hand.
Banished.
If he met anyone, he would hide. Or should he ask for help? No, he would hide. Who would help a dwarf accused of murder? He was on his own.
Banished.
They will pay. They will pay for doing this to me. Someday I will return, and they will get what they deserve.
Revenge.
So. Question: would you prefer me to update often, with shorter sections, like this, or would you rather wait longer and get longer sections to read? Any opinion?