A/N: Thank you, my darling UKReader, for the prompt! I haven't thought of it, but she most certainly would :P
Thorin wanders off the path in Thranduil's kingdom while Wren takes a shine to the key of Erebor.
The cursed Elfling was holding Thorin's sword in his hands, and the Dwarf gritted his teeth. It was almost as painful as seeing his woman in the arms of another. He shortly wondered what sort of balderdash this thought was, he had no woman, and then he shortly wondered where the thief was. He hoped she had escaped the spiders and the Elves, but he couldn't be sure she was safe.
The pale pointy eared bastard mumbled in his unpleasant discordant language, "This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin." Thorin scoffed, he would prefer to forget where his blade had come from. It was a Dwarven sword now. "Where did you get this?" The Elf added in Common Speech, and Thorin clearly imagined wiping the ground with the puffed up, poncy face of the wood wimp.
"It was given to me," he growled, and the pale bastard had the nerve to point Thorin's blade at its master.
"Not just a thief, but a liar as well." The following images in Thorin's head were more violent. The Elfling called his pathetic soldiers, and the company were being herded to be escorted, when Bofur turned to him.
"Thorin, where is Bilbo and the lass?" Thorin quickly looked around. Apparently the halfling made his escape as well. Thorin shortly thought he had underestimated the hobbit, he was more agile that Thorin had initially given him credit for.
The Elves chained them together and led them through their gates, going as far as sometimes slightly pushing and shoving them to keep them aligned. Thorin clenched his jaw and endured it as the King he was.
Inside, the detestable Elven kingdom was even less welcoming, walls made of some ridiculous trees and passages being pretty much giant roots. No railings of course. Thorin snarled. They were led through towards what he assumed were the cells, when suddenly on one of the branches substituting for a column he saw a dark green ribbon tied in a playful bow. He recognised it immediately. Some remnants of the haze he had been overwhelmed with in Mirkwood were still floating in his mind, and he remembered running his hands through the red haired thief's curls and pulling at the ends of the ribbons braided into them. They slid through his fingers, silky and smooth, of this exact fern green colour. He made a step to the side and quickly pulled at the ribbon, hiding in in his sleeve. It earned him a gentle but firm shove, and he returned into the line.
He smirked and allowed them to escort him into his cell. He was informed that he was to see King Thranduil in a few minutes, while his companions were pushed and stuffed into their cells. He felt a prickle of disappointment when they managed to find the last dagger hidden in Fili's coat and more than a prickle of irritation when he saw Kili exchanging mawkish glances with the Elven Captain of the Guard. Thorin agreed, there was certain charm in her, like in all redheads, and then he remembered that he never even liked redheads, and felt even more irked. He blamed the fog and poison of Mirkwood for this muddlement, it caused him to see "certain charm" in an Elven lass! Mahal help him, he was growing senile!
The Elfling who took his sword stepped towards him and spoke in his annoying nasal voice, "Are there daggers hidden in your garments as well, Dwarf? Do not make us search you, give them to us."
Thorin jerked his chin up. The Elfling flared his nostrils and grabbed the collar of his coat. The disgustingly long fingered hands ran over Thorin's body, and suddenly his coat was jerked open, and the Elf pushed his hand into the hidden pocket inside Thorin's waistcoat. The latter prepared to fight, that was where the map and the Erebor key were hidden, when Elfling straightened up. In his hand Thorin saw a lacy, peach coloured garter. The Elf cocked one brow and gave Thorin a derisive questioning look.
Thorin recognised the garter. Its sister was tied around the bottle of wine he was presented with, the second time the red haired thief bested him. He couldn't help it and smirked. The Elf threw the offending piece of undergarments into the cell prepared of Thorin, who was then pushed after it.
The Elves left, probably to inform their King, and Thorin turned around and gently picked up the lacy item from the floor of his cell. It still bore the light fragrance of lilacs, and he clasped it in his palm. His situation was rather depressing, but suddenly he started guffawing loudly.
He was mostly laughing at himself, at his confusion, at the memories of the odd life he saw in his daze that was never to take place, at the fact that he still had no idea whether she'd take the map and the key and loot the Halls of his ancestors, or whether the ribbon on the branch meant she was telling him she was coming for him. He was still chuckling loudly when the guards came to escort him to King Thranduil.
A/N: This one is short, so one more today :) And remember, reviews are highly appreciated, especially after each chapter ;)