OK, I couldn't resist another chapter at the encouragement of lizajay12, a wonderful story-teller. And those who are reading my other story may notice a fiendish connection.
The next morning Thorin awoke in his king-size bed and slid off his soft, silky sheets, specially made so that he wouldn't muss his perfect braids. He had them woven in Rivendell and carried by pack-mule across the Shire. He may have no love for elves, but they were the only ones who made sheets with a 1500-thread count.
"That's probably what keeps their skin so smooth," he muttered to himself as he checked his face and neck in his mirror. He slapped the back of his hand under his chin a few times to tighten his skin and then practiced his glare, this one with an added an imperial lift of a perfectly plucked brow. He and Dwalin had an important mission today: to root out the criminals who dared desecrate their persons. An expert tattoo artist was arriving later that week from the Iron Hills, and Thorin wanted the culprits caught before then. Who knows what they could be telling unbraided dwarves with bad fashion sense in the dank pubs down in the valley? Thorin shuddered thinking about them blurting out their triumph into dirty ears.
But then he stopped. No uncouth lout with last year's clothes was capable of such artistry. Well, there once was this dwarf who made the most beautiful jewelry and bathed every other year, but that was not the norm, and Thorin always had him dipped for fleas before viewing his work. But who were these fiends who were capable of such beauty and such, such fiendishness at the same time? He thought through who could have done it, and only a few names came to mind. He rang the bell, and the royal dressers, perfumers, nose-hair clipper, and jewelry adorner arrived. Before he dressed he always had the royal nose hair clipper attend him since nose hair hadn't been in style since before Thror.
Once dressed in a most imposing and very stylish black leather ensemble, he met Dwalin in the hallway and marched toward the council chamber.
"Food first," Dwalin said gruffly.
It was a measure of how upset Thorin was that he almost missed his breakfast. He and Dwalin strode into the king's breakfast room and Thorin fixed his glare on every advisor and council member there. Dwalin stood behind him and watched for slick beads of sweat to eke their way out of guilty pores, for muscles tensing to run for cover, and for eyes shifting to avoid blame. But they all stood clueless.
"Ach," Dwalin thought, "this bunch looks too stupid to pull off such a prank." His eyes flew open and a growl started deep in his gut, rumbled as it reached his chest, and roared as it leapt out of his mouth.
"Prank!" Thorin jumped slightly, somewhat miffed that he didn't get the chance to lift an imperial brow at a nervous advisor. He enjoyed the way the unsuspecting would ready for the glare only to be caught unprepared by the brow. It gave him a thrill every time.
"What is it, Dwalin?" he asked in annoyance as he put his hands on his royal hips and frowned.
"Prank, Thorin," Dwalin bit out. "It was a prank, and I know of only two who could have and would have done it."
The entire room held its collective breath.
"Well?" Thorin demanded. "Spit it out dwarf!"
"Fili and Kili!"
"Yes, Dwalin?" The very same walked into the room, bowed appropriately, and started forking food on their plates. All in the room watched as the young princes tossed sausages to each other and slopped eggs over bread and cheese. Thorin choked on his gag reflex at the sight of foods touching each other.
"Catch Kili!" Fili tossed an apple, and Kili caught it in his mouth, spraying a nearby advisor with spittle and apple bits. Thorin put his hand over his mouth while Dwalin growled.
"Over here lads!" he ordered. The princes put down their plates and quietly walked over after Kili jammed a muffin in his mouth.
"Yes?" they chorused respectfully.
"An incident happened two days ago," Thorin said after he swallowed, "and Dwalin and I were, um, attacked-yes!-attacked, and we are searching for the guilty parties." He leaned in close to Kili's face.
"Were you aware that something untoward happened two days ago, Kili?" Dwalin's angry breaths blew Kili's hair off his face with every exhalation, and Thorin lifted his brow.
Kili's eyes blinked innocently. "No, uncle, were you injured? Where did this happen?"
Dwalin and Thorin communicated their opinions with a glance. If he wasn't innocent, the lad was good, very good.
"It happened to both of us when we were asleep, boy," Dwalin grumbled. "Dinna hear anything unusual?"
"Such as what, Dwalin?" Fili asked.
Dwalin and Thorin swung to the heir to the throne and peered at his face. He looked back worriedly, his brows creased with concern.
"Did the guards see anything?" he asked as he put his hand on his sword. "Should we post guards outside your rooms?"
Thorin frowned and then suddenly lifted his brow in a surprise maneuver, but Fili was impervious.
"Yes, that's a wise notion, nephew," Thorin said at last, "go eat. Your, ugh, food is getting cold."
"Thank you, uncle," they said, and they trotted off and noisily ate their breakfast. Thorin and Dwalin watched them, hoping to catch a guilty glance or twitch, but finally Dwalin shrugged.
"Guess not," he said.
Thorin shook his head angrily and called for all the advisors to come with him and plan their strategy to catch the criminals.
Fili and Kili looked at each other after everyone had left.
"How did you get past the eyebrow, Ki? I thought you were a goner!"
"Natural talent, brother," Kili said proudly, "natural talent." Then he slapped his brother on the shoulder. "But look at you with the perfect crease of concern. Where did you come up with that?"
Fili lifted a mug and took a long swig. The foam coated his upper lip just so.
"Practice, brother, years of practice," Fili said. "I have a mirror in my room, and I knew it would come in handy one day."