Alright, so here's the first AU which was a personal one that I wanted to see come to life. I just find it really intruiging and was up late one night thinking about it and I was like.
Yiiiissssssss!
And made it happen.
Basically the premise of this mini-fic is that Thorin and the Company has reclaimed Erebor. Things went fine. Everyone survived. The gold sickness isn't affecting our favorite dwarf king. The kingdom is flourishing underneath his rule.
However, Ren was never on the quest.
In fact, the Battle of the Five Armies was more like Battle of the Four Armies. The elves had... problems.
Somehow and somewhere, they had fallen into a bad place of existance and, given their long life spans and tirelessness, had been brought before the other races and taken in as slaves. They are viewed as less than the other races of Middle Earth and are treated like dirt.
But, we'll learn more about this later in other chapters. That's right, this one is probably going to be a multiple chapters one. I'm not promising them in succession but it will happen and finish at some point.
READ ON!
Gladiator: Ch. 1
(Eventual Thorin/Ren)
There was a sound knock on his door which caused the King glance back at it in the reflection of his mirror.
"Come in." His resounding voice called as he shrugged on his fur cloak, his servants struggling to lift the heavy article up onto his broad shoulders.
He heard the latch on the door click and it groaned as it swung open. In stepped two of his most faithful friends, his advisor and his brother, the Master of Arms and General of his army.
"You're going to be late for your own celebration." Balin murmured, stroking a hand along his beard as he read from a scroll in his hand. "No doubt Dain is already waiting for you."
"My cousin will be the death of me." The King murmured as he reached out and took hold of the raven crown which sat upon the velvet pillow. Raising it up, he lifted it so that he could place it atop his dark head of hair. "Him and these ridiculous parties."
"It's not everyday we celebrate the first anniversary of reclaiming the mountain." Dwalin murmured, crossing his thick arms across his wide chest.
Thorin only gazed back at himself in the mirror as his servants finished straightening out the fur, making sure that it all ran in the same direction. "The longer he stays here, the more I wish he could go back to the Ironhills already. It seems harder and harder to please him."
"Not to worry, he'll be gone by the end of the week... I hope." Balin murmured, causing both other dwarves to snort and grins cracked across their faces.
"What do you suppose he has planned for tonight?"
"Who knows." Dwalin murmured and Thorin dismissed his servants before turning to actually face his companions. "Hopefully something more... entertaining." Again, the three dwarves only shared knowing smirks as they moved to the door. "I almost fell asleep during the singers' performance last night."
"Aye, you're not the only one." Balin agreed as they continued down the stone hallway, following just a step behind Thorin. "I understand that those women were beautiful but... well, they were a bit tone deaf."
A chuckle resonated throughout their group and it was only a moment later that they came to the end of the hall that lead to the King's private chambers. Three guards stood at the end of the long corridor, all of them baring the symbol of the Ironhills.
"My king," One of the guards stepped forward, his spear held tightly in his hand, "It would seem that Lord Dain requires your presence."
"And where exactly does he ask me to go?" Thorin asked the guard, narrowing his blue eyes slightly. He felt pride swell in his chest as he watched the dwarf squirm beneath his gaze.
"He wants you to meet him down at The Pit. He says that he has a special surprise for you."
For a moment, the dark haired dwarf calmly gazed at the dwarf before he slightly inclined his head in thought. "Of course he has another surprise for me." Sighing through his nose, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead nodded slowly to the guards. "Very well, lead me there."
With only slight bows, the three guards turned and began to make their way through the vastness of Erebor. Down and down they went, deeper into the heart of the mountain until the temperature slowly started to drop.
And then, all at once, there was heat as they passed by the forges which meant that they were getting closer to their destination.
The murmuring of many voices could be heard and the dark haired dwarf glanced back to share a knowing look with Dwalin who only pursed his lips. It was like Dain to do something like this.
It was strange that he hadn't known about the event, given that he was the one who usually organized the happenings that took place in the Pit.
The three guards led them down the darkened corridor. It was no surprise when they took a left suddenly and walked through another tunnel with guards stationed periodically along the way.
It only took a few moments before they emerged out into the light at the end and they were met with the vastness of the arena before them.
Fili and Kili were standing on either side of the door, dressed in their finest armor and when they saw their uncle approaching, they beamed at him and politely bowed their heads to their patriarch.
Smiling widely as well, the King reached out and clapped them both on their shoulders and drew them each into his side.
"Tonight is our celebration, boys." He told them as they embraced and tapped their foreheads to each others.
"No, Uncle." Fili murmured, his blue eyes shinning. "Tonight is a celebration of the King." He told him and the dark haired dwarf shook his head slightly. "Tonight we celebrate the Erebor that has flourished and grown beneath your rule."
"Cousin!" All three of their heads turned to look upon the one who had called to Thorin. Dain had risen from his seat upon hearing their quiet murmurings and felt excitement grow within him when he saw the King had arrived.
"I did not suspect such a grand surprise." He murmured as he embraced the Lord of the Ironhills.
"Only the best for the King." The dwarf replied with a grin before he turned to face the audience who had been roaring in delight since they had noticed the arrival of their leader.
Clapping Thorin on his shoulder, he turned to face the crowd and raised his hand as if to silence him.
"My good dwarrow folk!" He spoke once they had grown quiet. "Tonight, we celebrate the one year anniversary of our good king reclaiming Erebor!" A nearly defining roar resounded throughout the room. "And to honor him and his nephews for their valiant efforts, I have decided to impart a gift to them and unto you!" Another loud cry.
Beaming back at his family members, the dwarf then nodded to a guard that was standing on the arena floor.
With a sharp jerk of his head, he yanked hard on the chain hanging from the wall beside him and the large door that led into the arena fell open.
For a moment, the room was silent as they all held their breath in anticipation and it was only a short half second later that about three elves came stumbling into The Pit, three females. One that had pitch black hair while the other two had golden tresses.
With wide eyes, the three creatures stared around at the vast room around them as the dwarves let out cries of delight as they realized what the gift was that Dain had given them. For it was a gift of entertainment.
A bundle of weapons was also tossed out onto the sandy floor of the arena and the three creatures scrambled towards it immediately, hoping to find some sort of protection with them.
Thorin only turned to look at his cousin who had a dark smirk on his face.
"You give me the gift of a gladiatorial circuit made up of slaves…?"
"Only the best, I assure you. They have performed for me and my court various times." The brunet dwarf assured him, a strange glint lighting his eyes.
"I can understand the delight in gladiators but slaves…? And female ones no less."
"You need only give them a chance, my lord. I think you will find yourself impressed." Dain smiled darkly again and allowed his eyes to slide to the same guard who still stood by the door which had since been closed.
With another sharp nod, the dwarf yanked on the chain again and this time it opened to reveal a pack of goblins who came shooting out into the arena, hissing and spitting at those around them.
The three females, after having anxiously reached for weapons, turned to face their new foes. For a moment, they bristled but soon calmed themselves. There must have been about eight goblins total and once they saw the she-elves, they themselves went on alert and rushed towards them.
And just like Dain had said the three women delt with the goblins until all of them lay upon the sandy floor, black blood oozing from their wounds. Two of the three elves came away with a few scratched while the other had a deep gash above her eye.
Seeking his approval, the Lord of the Ironhills turned towards the king and found that he had a disinterested look upon his face.
Still, the show went on and more elves were brought out and battled against the whatever foes they were presented with. They now measured to be six in number, three males and three females. It was at least intriguing to watch how differently each one fought but you could almost tell that there was a certain likeness in all of them.
That they had been taught by the same person.
"Are you enjoying the show, my lord king?" A voice called from behind his immaculate chair. The dark haired dwarf sat up straighter in his seat and turned back to find whoever had spoken to him.
A sad excuse of a man stood between two guards, looking hopeful as he awaited his answer.
He had thin, black, greasy hair that fell to his shoulders. His clothing was rather grand for someone of his… status. He wore a fine gray tunic that had golden stitching. His trousers were plain but still of fine fabric. However, the coat he wore was lined with black fur and the fabric of his coat was also a charcoal color.
"Who is addressing me?"
"Forgive me, Thorin. This is Borgil, the Slavemaster and owner of the… um, gladiatorial circuit before you."
"It's a pleasure, my lord king." The greasy man bowed his head and the dwarf had to fight the urge to let his lip curl. Slavers were always the lowest and greasiest beings belonging to the race of Man and it appeared that he would be no different.
"I'm sure it is." Thorin replied cooly, waving away the guards on either side of the man before turning back in his seat.
"I hope that the entertainment pleases you, my king." He stepped up to stand beside his cousin. "When Lord Dain offered me the chance to perform for you, I was overcome with joy that my elves would get to fight in The Pit."
Thorin was only quiet for a moment, his face continuing to show that what was happening before him was of little interest. Glancing off to the side, he found that his nephews seemed to be feeling the opposite. They seemed to be entranced by the show.
"I will say it is intriguing: the act of putting a knife in the hands of a slave." The dwarf rubbed his bearded jaw in thought. "It could give them... ideas."
"Oh, no, my lord. They are strictly performers. Me and my other men keep them in line and make sure that all our weapons are accounted for when the night is over."
The King only hummed in understanding, lazily watching the fight before them. Seeing how uninterested his cousin was, Dain exchanged a look with the Slaver. Both of them knew it wasn't going well.
"Slavemaster, why don't you go see if there is something else that you have down there? Something rather intriguing…?" Inclining his brows, the Ironhills dwarf smirked slightly and the greasy man then understood.
"Very well, my lord." He bobbed his head, his own lips drawing back in a large grin.
Bowing towards the both of them and his nephews, the man left the way he came. As soon as he left the hall, a dark chuckle escaped his lips and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. For he knew one thing that would certainly draw the King's attention.
It took him a few minutes to make his way down into the holding cells but he knew that he had time. The last fight was almost at its midpoint, the elves still had a few orcs to kill. As the night progressed, they would increase the number and skill level of their foes, usually starting with the goblins and orcs before moving up to wargs and sometimes they were lucky enough to get their hands on a live mountain troll.
Walking through the various cells, he had to squint to see into the shadows but when he came upon the last one, he took notice of the booted feet that sat in the circle of light provided by the torch across the way.
Only one of his fighters wore boots.
Withdrawing a ring of keys from his pocket, he fiddled around with them for a moment before he found the right one. Sticking it into the lock, he turned it and the door opened with a click and a low groan as the hinges protested. He reached down and picked up the discarded chain that lay on the cold stone floor.
"Oi." He called into the darkened cell and he furrowed his brow softly when there was no movement. "Oi, wake up." Reeling his foot back, he kicked one of the booted feet. The chains around the ankles jangled noisily and it was only a half moment later that he bent down and unlocked the shackles from around the ankles in the boots which soon began to move and shift position. "Get up." He commanded again, tugging lightly on the chain.
The creature on the other end began to move and the boots retreated from the light as it stood up, multiple chains jingling the entire way.
"Looks like you get to perform tonight." He murmured, taking the end of the chain and attaching the clip to a steel ring he always carried around. It made holding onto the chain easier. "Come on, then."
Walking out into the prison-like room, the man led the way and the being had no choice but to follow. As they made their way towards the chute, Borgil stopped at a chest and lifted the lid up, only to retrieve a set of ivory daggers and a pair of shackles.
Setting the knives down for a moment, the man turned back to the chained creature who slowly raised their wrists to present them to the man.
"Alright, listen up." He spoke in his strange accent as he situated the first thick shackle around their wrist. "You're really going to give them a show tonight. One that's bloody and gory. Dwarves like to see a good mauling so stretch it out a bit. Play with them if you like. You need to impress them, all of them but none so more than the King." The first one locked into place and he began to work on the other one. "We need the money and if you perform well tonight, I'll give you and the others extra food."
This caused the creature's head to snap up and a spark to enter into their eyes.
"Yeah, that's right." The other latched around the wrist and he released their wrists to step back and admire his work for a moment. Tightening his grip on the chain in his hands, he moved forward again until they stood in the chute. "Just remember, they love a good show. Bloody and violent."
Beaming back at the slave, he watched as one of their eyebrows twitched with interest and something dangerous sparked in their eyes.
It was only a moment later that the fight ended and his men herded the rest of his fighters back into the waiting cells where they would remain while the real attraction took place.
The thick wooden door before them was lifted up and before Borgil could react, he was being yanked forward. A cry of protest came from his lips as he was nearly dragged out onto the vast floor of the arena.
The murmuring that had been going on within the audience suddenly grew quiet as a loud shout of protest was heard from down below in the battlefield.
Thorin felt his brow furrow slightly as he watched as the Slaver was suddenly dragged out onto the The Pit's sandy floor by a chain that he had his hands wrapped around. However, the person doing the dragging is what really took hold of his attention.
Sitting up slightly in his chair, he couldn't help but smirk and rub a hand through his beard as he watched the slave drag the Slavemaster out into the open before his people, their own hands wrapped tightly around the chain so as to note choke them due to the collar that lay around their throat.
The creature was female obviously, given the thick, blonde hair that was braided back atop her head and then left to spill aways down her back. It may have also been the leather breastplate she wore that alerted others of her gender, given it showed off quite a bit of her stomach, almost so much so that it was scandalous. Upon her hips sat a pair of dark brown trousers trousers and a thick leather belt. A simple piece of torn cloth hung down, acting as a tattered sort of skirt over her pants. Upon her feet were a simple pair of boots but boots no less, unlike the other slaves, he noticed. Leather gauntlets covered her hands and forearms and a pair of leather sheaths were strapped across her back, crisscrossing in the very center but were left empty. However, what was exceptionally strange was that she wore a leather muzzle across her face, only allowing her eyes to be seen. There was a small slit in the front that allowed her to breathe.
Thorin found that it was almost too easy to tell that this strange creature before him was Brogril's champion.
A variation between chuckles and murmurs of concern washed across the gathered crowd as they watched the female continue to drag him around. They could all see that she was wild, they were certain of that. And yet, there was a sudden feeling of anticipation in the air.
The Slaver suddenly barked something harsh in elvish, causing the creature to stall in her actions. For a moment, it was quiet as she stared the man down but she slowly let go of the chain, letting it fall slack so that it dangled between them in the air.
Cursing her under his breath, he yanked harshly on the chain and drug her forward, towards the King himself so that he could present his fighter to him. The female did nothing but stumbled forward slightly, the man having caught her slightly off balance.
"My lord..." He panted, slightly out of breath as he swiped some of his greasy hair from his face. "This is the event that everyone has been anticipating on this night."
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a key and everyone was tense for a moment as the blonde elf stepped forward, presenting her shackled wrists to the man. Scowling at her slightly, he continued to grumble as he inserted the key into the lock.
And as he was doing this, Thorin felt his interest in the fight peak all the more.
As if she had sensed his presence, her eyes had sought him out on his balcony just a few rows up and the dwarf lord was amazed when he finally got a good look at her.
Her eyes were thickly lined with dark charcoal, making her look all the more sinister. And yet, Thorin was more amazed to find that her eyes in themselves were the most striking about her. For they were the most intriguing shade of sapphire blue he had ever seen.
She glared up at him from her place upon the arena floor, patiently awaiting for Borgil to be done. She never looked away, she never broke eye contact.
When the Slaver was finished with his work, the man barked something at her again in her language and even then, she failed to look away from the King.
Borgil moved back towards the door where they had entered, glancing back at her the entire time. The door fell shut behind him with a resounding thud and it was only then, that the female allowed her head to drop. Turning back slightly, she glanced back at the door out of the corner of her eye to make sure that he was gone.
He reappeared only a minute later back upon the King's balcony. Bowing swift to the family of royals, he quickly stepped back up to the edge of the balcony.
The female was looking up at him expectantly and the man swallowed nervously before withdrawing a set of daggers from his the innermost pocket of his coat. Scowling down at her slightly, he tossed the blades down so that they landed just before her feet. The elleth failed to flinch as they landed tip down in the sand just before the toes of her boots.
Still glaring up at the Slaver, she reached down and picked up the discarded chain that still hung from her throat. She began to wind it around her neck so that it was shortened and served as sort of a necklace.
Then, all at once, she bent over and easily pulled the knives free from the ground and all those watching felt their interest peak as she skillfully twirled the daggers around in her hands.
Slowly turning back around, she faced the large wooden door and allowed her arms to fall to her sides, the shinning steel glinting evilly in her hands.
Glancing down at the King out of the corner of his eye, the Slavemaster was immensely pleased to find that the dwarf now held a spark in his eyes as he gazed at the female warrior.
Exchanging a look with Dain, the man only nodded before he then turned and gestured to the guard beside the door to open the doors. Yanking hard on the chain, the large entrance was heaved upward and out swarmed a hardy pack of six orcs.
Thorin allowed his eyes to drift to the ugly creatures for a moment before he looked back to the elf, wanting to gauge her reaction. If anything, her expression, from what he could see, had not changed.
Then, all at once, she was moving.
Both her knives were hurled across the arena and came to land solidly in the guts of the first orc that had stormed the field. Running towards him, he fell to the ground and reaching out, she took hold of her weapons and yanked them free, leaving the brute to bleed out on the ground.
The second orc swung a dual handed ax at her but she ducked under it and spun to the side, one of her knives easily sliding between his armor and up into his ribcage.
Another orc ran at her while she still had her blade stuck in this one. Using her remaining weapon, she blocked his attack and yanked the second knife free to stab up into his skull so that her blade entered into his brain through his jaw.
Black blood now began to coat her hands and her knives but she still pressed on, seemingly unaffected by what was happening.
Pulling both knives free, a crude sword was swung at her but she stepped back and out of the reach of the weapon. The remaining three orcs only glanced at their fallen comrades before allowing their eyes to drift back to their attacker.
She calmly stood there watching them with what one could only describe as a predatory look gleaming in her eyes.
Wordlessly, they all lunged towards her in an attempt to attack and even then, this seemed to cause the fighter little distress. She only stepped to the side and dodged the first swipe by the swordsman as she sheathed the blade in her left hand.
Then, all at once, she was clutching one knife in both hands and swung downwards. A guttural cry echoed throughout the vicinity as the orc dropped to the ground, clutching his handless arm to his chest.
Ignoring him, the female turned back to face the rest of her foes but was met with another blade. Quickly withdrawing the other one, she blocked this one with both of her own weapons.
The orc before her was obviously stronger and began to force his own ax down towards her. Still, she didn't panic and instead lashed out with one of her legs, catching the ugly creature in the side. This blow made him falter slightly and he stumbled off to the side.
Hearing something coming up behind her, she side stepped out of the way just in time and watched as a heavy mace smashed into the ground where she had just been. Facing this new foe, she was about to raise her weapons to try and block the second swung dealt by the orc but instead, heard more footsteps in the sand behind her.
Thinking quickly, she dropped to the ground and ducked just as the orc with the mace swung at her from her left. However, the weapon would never hit her.
Instead, it smashed into the skull of the second ugly brute coming up behind her with the ax. A resounding crunch was heard throughout the arena and some of the dwarves grimaced while others cheered at the sound.
Upon realizing what he did, the final orc froze for a moment, his eyes flickering momentarily to his comrade.
This was a major mistake on his part, however, given that the she-elf reached behind him and slashed the soft flesh on the backs of his legs. With a yelp of pain, he sunk to the ground, dropping the mace as he went. The female immediately slunk out of his reach and stood back up, slowly drawing up to her full height above him.
It was easy to see the anger drain from his face and it was slowly replaced with fear.
He wasn't to be blamed though. For the wild creature before him had just easily slaughtered his companions before his very eyes and he was now covered in their black blood. Thorin himself believed that should he meet someone such as her as on the battlefield, he himself would feel a panicked.
The remaining brute began to squeal and whine, all the while trying to crawl away from. The pathetic creature drug its lower body behind him in an attempt to escape her.
The woman forgot about him for a moment and instead turned back around to face the King's balcony, very well knowing that was where the Slaver stood.
Her hands, now slicked with blood, held onto the equally filthy twin blades. With her dulled sapphire eyes, she glared up at him, as if asking his approval. All heads in the audience turned and looked to the greasy man who only inclined one of his brows and slowly turned to look at the King.
The female herself slowly allowed her eyes to drift to the dwarf lords and found that the one beside the King was grinning like mad. The King himself, however, steepled his hands in front of him as he rested his elbows on the arms of his throne. An expectant look shone in his eyes and the elf knew.
Momentarily glancing back to Borgil, she heard his words echo inside her head. Blood and gore.
All at once, she twirled the daggers around in her hands and slipped them into the sheaths upon her back as if she had been doing it her entire life. Her final foe was still attempting to crawl away from her and was getting nearer to the door but he would never make it that far.
Ignoring him for a moment longer, she approached the body of the orc from before, the one who had his head smashed in by his comrade. The ax he had been wielding was stuck soundly into the ground.
Reaching out, she wrapped both hands around the thick handle and tried to lift it, only to struggle slightly. Furrowing her brow slightly, she tried again and was able to pull the weapon free from its place and took hold of it tightly in her slicked palms.
With that same dulled look in her eyes, she approached the beast that was trying to crawl away.
Easily catching up to him with her long legs, she stood astride him a moment as he continued in his attempt to flee from her. However, he had little time to respond as she swift brought the ax down into his skull, a resounding crunch echoing throughout the arena as the beast below her stilled.
Cheers of triumph and satisfaction rang throughout The Pit, the blonde standing over the body of her enemy as she left him to lie there in the sand. Letting go of the handle of the ax, it remained standing upward given that it was buried deep in the skull of its last victim.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she stepped over the body of the orc and slowly began to make her way back towards the other side of the arena. She only came to a stop when she stood before the King's balcony.
Reaching behind her, she easily withdrew the two knives and held them in her hands.
It was quiet for a moment before she slowly raised her arm and pointed her right blade up to the balcony. For a moment, the guards attending shifted nervously in their places but it only was when they noticed who she was pointing at did they calm.
Borgil swallowed nervously as the steel glinted up at him and he knew that he was playing a dangerous game. He knew her strengths. He knew that she could most definitely kill him right then and there with that very knife if she really wanted to. All it would take is one flick.
Thorin only watched with interest as she focused her icy gaze on the Slaver and raised her weapon towards him. She then spoke, though it was greatly muffled by the muzzle upon her face.
Not knowing what she was saying, all heads turned to gauge the man's reaction and watched as he chewed his lip in thought for a moment before he raised his chin to show his pride before barking something back.
The female narrowed her eyes at him then and raised her second dagger at him.
The Slavemaster took a small step back, thinking that she would actually attack him. However, after a moment of being held under her icy gaze, she expertly twirled the knives in her palms so that the handles now faced him. And then, ever so slowly, she dropped down onto both her knees, still holding her weapons aloft, showing her submission as she bowed her head.
A slow wave of applause and cheers swept across the arena, for nearly everyone had been holding their breathe as they watched the exchange take place.
The large wooden door off to the side suddenly opened and another man stepped out into the arena, this one dressed less regally than Borgil but he was much more cleaned up and appeared less greasy than the other man. He had shoulder length, dark brown hair and equally as dark eyes, reminding him a little of his youngest nephew.
In his hands, he carried the same pair of shackles before and he slowly approached the female. She did not move as he drew nearer and he calmly took the knives from her before tucking them into a large leather pocket he had attached to his belt. He then set to work clamping the shackles around her wrists and after he was done with that, he reached into that same pouch at his side and withdrew a silver ring similar to the one Borgil himself carried.
Reaching out, he carefully unwound the chain from around her neck until it was free before he clipped the end onto the ring. Keeping her eyes closed, she rose on her own accord back up onto her feet, now once again bound and chained.
Thorin allowed his head to tilt slightly to one side, his eyes narrowing slightly on her form as he watched the wild creature before him suddenly become so docile.
"By what name does your champion go by, Slavemaster?" The King murmured, watching as the man gave one gentle pat to her long tresses before murmuring something that could not be heard. Then, the two of them began to walk back towards the doors, side by side. Thorin saw no signs of the hostility as he had before.
"The other ones call her 'Ren' though we've never been able to catch her true name."
"Ren." He tried the name out for himself, finding it felt odd in his mouth but at the same time, perfect. "An intriguing name to say the slightest."
"All of them have strange, short names."
"Where are they from?" The King asked, his eyes still trained on the pair in the arena.
"We caught her and another one running away from us along the path that would eventually lead them to Rohan." The Slaver himself frowned slightly at the memory. "Both of them were armed when we stumbled upon them and they put up quite a fight before we were able to capture the other one. Ren surrender when we captured her companion."
"Does she speak the Common Tongue?"
"Unfortunately not, my lord." Borgil sighed through his nose slightly, showing that this was clearly not to his liking. "None of the others do as well so I took it upon myself to learn their language and teach it to my men as well."
The dwarf only bobbed his head in understanding. "I anticipate seeing them again tomorrow night as well?"
This information seemed to startle the greasy man for a moment and he quickly looked to Dain for an answer. The lord only gave a short jerk of his head in confirmation and the Slaver beamed.
"Of course, my lord king." He bowed slightly and rose up to his full height once again. "But, if you would please excuse me, I have to go look after my fighters." He turned to leave but paused once again as the king spoke.
"Make sure that she gets plenty of food." The dark haired creature spoke as he rose from his throne, waiting to return to his chambers for the night. Borgil turned back to look at him. "Ren. Your champion." He replied when he saw the man's inclined brows. "Make sure she gets a reward after the performance she just gave."
"I will, my lord." The greasy Slaver bowed toward him again backing off the balcony until he was out of sight.
READ, REVIEW, AND LEAVE ME MINI-FIC IDEAS!
Love,
Blue