Thorin's mind was numbed. Although he was aware of everything that happened around him, it seemed like it came over someone else.

Thranduil had drawn him upright and pushed him against the wall, while his body was searched. The blade of his sword rested upon Thorin's throat and he knew he would cut himself if he moved, so he was forced to watch how the man searched his clothes.

Once more he was glad he had given the key to Alyssae. He didn't know if he would ever see her again or that she would return to her own city, but it would stay out of Thranduil's hands anyway.

"What's this?" The man pulled the map out of his pocket and unfolded it curiously. "The Lonely Mountain," he sneered after he'd watched the map. "Is it really your intention to kill Smaug? You're such a fool. Nobody tempts fate by challenging a dragon and that isn't without a reason."

Thorin held his tongue. That was easy for him to say, while he had withdrawn between his spruces, with only some big spiders he had to take care of. Thorin had seen how his people was destroyed by Smaug's flames. Everything they'd owned, they'd lost because of that monster and it was his duty to take back his land. They had wandered enough.

"Well, this explains the real reason why you're here." The elf smiled scornfully. "We gave back the life-breath of three of your companions. It's about time I take my share."

"You get nothing," Thorin hissed. "It's your fault my people are scattered all over Middle Earth."

Thranduil shook his head. "Don't blame me for the failure of your ancestors. If they hadn't been so occupied by robbing the riches of their allies, the dragon never had appeared on the horizon."

Thorin flew into rage, but Thranduil's sword obstructed every move.

"I am not done talking yet." The tall elf looked down on him. "I want to know which of your men dared to dishonor the princess of Chyndall, betrothed of my kin."

Thorin squeezed his eyes. "Dishonor?"

"Indeed. It is pestiferous that a dwarf has touched an elf in an inappropriate way. Something I hold you responsible for."

Before Thorin could say a word, Thranduil raised his other hand and a whip hit his midriff. There were hooks that pierced his clothes and grasped his flesh. When the elf pulled back his hand, he ruthlessly tore loose the skin. The pain that was caused, made his knees bend and he fell forward. His cry cut the musty air, but a torturing pain in his back seemed to inactivate his thoughts and he could only think of the wounds that were left behind on his skin. Blood bubbled up from the holes that the elf hit in his body.

"Who?"

Thorin closed his eyes in a futile attempt to become a master over the pain. "Me," he whispered. "It was me."

"I want to hear the truth, not your disgusting fantasies."

One more time that dreary noise of moving air was audible, immediately followed by a terrible pain in his shoulder and there after in his leg. The third smash made him fall backwards when the whip tore open his lip, nose and right eyebrow. Blood trickled down and blurred his view, together with his bitter tears.

"I already know the answer," Thranduil said. "But I want you to say his name. I want you to betray him."

Thorin clenched his jaws, even though he wanted to give in so badly, so he would be delivered from the pain that shot through his whole body. He wasn't capable of standing up. Again and again the horrible instrument hit his body and snatched away his flesh.

"Now it's time to take your responsibilities, dwarf. If you don't answer me now, there will not be a king under the mountain anymore."

Thorin knew Fili's name would never come over his lips. He would rather die than betraying his nephew. And that was exactly what was going to happen. The elf would finally kill him.