Thorin
(#39204088)
Far over the misty mountains cold,
Roac
Storm Seeker
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Male Tundra
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.62 m
Wingspan
3.39 m
Weight
281.05 kg
Genetics
Black
Iridescent
Iridescent
Black
Shimmer
Shimmer
Moon
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Tundra
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Biography
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"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But, sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell." His last words. Not a bad legacy to leave, really. Unlike the myriad of tavern jokes about the man who's last words were something along the line of "Is it edible?" or "Surprise me." or "Hey, watch this!" Thorin had no regrets about his last words. He meant them. And, as he curled up in a warm beam of sunlight for a hopefully-to-remain-uninterrupted nap, Thorin reflected that the simple things in life were, indeed, the best things in life. Food and cheer and song indeed. Also naps and hot baths and good books and the few moments a day when his nephews were quiet. |
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It's not that he had ever taken those things for granted, more that he rarely had the time to indulge in and enjoy them. Now though? Now he wasn't a young Prince helping his people escape a dragon and it's terrible aftermath. He wasn't the Heir Apparent headed to war for a kingdom he'd never seen. He wasn't the defacto leader of a decimated people, having to struggle with his inherited council because he wasn't yet of age. He wasn't King in Exile trying to hold a dwindling population together; fed and clothed and warm and safe. It just wasn't his job anymore. Now he could afford a bit of leisure. |
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He was almost asleep when he felt the tell-tale sensation of tiny feet digging into his mane. Not necessarily a disagreeable sensation, but a weird one, and a relatively common occurrence lately. He knew from scent that it was Bilbo, and of course it was; no one else would have the gall. And as Bilbo made himself a little nest in his hair, Thorin resigned himself to Nap +1. But the sun was warm, and the company was fine, and he had learned his lesson well. It was the little things in life that made it worth living.
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When Thorin first awoke in this world, he had thought himself in the halls of his ancestors. A brief glance showed it to not be as grand as he had been led to believe. It smelled a bit like an infirmary and the bed he was on was a bit stiff. Leagues better then the cold ground he had died on, but not quite what he had expected of Mahal's Halls. He didn't feel his mortal wounds, but his everything hurt in the way only true exhaustion can accomplish. He thought his body was supposed to be remade in this afterlife? Maybe this was normal. But suddenly there was Fíli, filling his vision with a worried and somehow also relieved expression. And Kíli, curled up next to him, snoring lightly. They looked different in some way he couldn't quite put his finger on. But it was them. He knew them, would know them anywhere. From their first words to their last breaths, he had known them, and so the relief he felt at seeing them now was palpable. Still, that worried expression on Fíli's face didn't belong there. He couldn't pull the lad into a proper hug with Kíli cuddled around his arm, so he reached a shaky and weak hand up to Fíli's neck and brought his forehead down to touch. Fíli went with the movement willingly, and Thorin felt blessed at his nephews' love and loyalty. |
Appearance: Thorin is short and stocky for a Tundra, with a thick dark mane spun through with silver and a beard that he keeps short in grief. Family: Fili and Kili (Nephews), Dis (Sister), Balin and Dwalin (Cousins), Oin and Gloin (Cousins) Friends: The Company Master Ferro |
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"Uncle?" Fíli's voice wobbled. "Thank Mahal, you're okay. You are never going to believe where we are." Fíli's blue eyes were squeezed shut and his whole body shuddered momentarily. "Are these not the Halls?" Because any other option made little sense. He had watched his nephews die after all. Had they been revived by Gandalf? The Elves? "Not at all." Worrisome. But he'd deal with a potential life debt to the Elves later. "Are we not dead then?" "No, we died. Definitely died; do not want to talk about it. But we didn't go to the Halls." |
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Before he could question his nephew further, someone else walked into the room. Something that made his brain stall completely. Smallish, only about twice his size. Female, his suddenly addled mind supplied, though he's not sure how he knew that. A light, garish yellow with bright green wings and trimmings, and balancing a giant pearl in her tail as she walked. She smelled of candle fire, anti-septic and flower blossoms, and seemed to bring a whirl of butterflies in with her. All in all, a soft, gentle appearance, but still... A Dragon. Panic welled up in Thorin and he made a quick, desperate move to pull Fíli behind him. His motion caught her eye and her attention swung over to them. "Oh good. You're awake." She smiled and it was unnerving. "Now stop moving. We only just took your stitches out yesterday. You were quite badly injured you know." "Good morning, Miss Jenna." Fíli supplied. The brat, resisting Thorin's attempts to shield him, turned wide blue eyes to him, insisting, "She's the Lead Healer, Thorin. She's the one who saved your life." |
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It was then that Thorin realized why the lads looked different to him. Wings. Claws, fangs, fur. A completely different skeletal shape and face structure. It was amazing he recognized them at all. Scent, the odd thought popped into his mind; He recognized their scents. A glance at his own hand, still clutching Fíli, showed much the same. Fur. Claws. He followed the arm up to his chest, shocked to see it was, in fact, attached to him. It wasn't his hand and arm, the ones he had been born with and had seen and used every day of his 195 years of life... but it responded to his attempts to move it like it had always been his. Thorin was overwhelmed. This was too much information. Too soon. His already exhausted mind and body did something it had never done before. He fainted. |
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When next he woke, considerably calmer, it was to the understanding smile from Fíli, small with just a hint of mischief, and the outright laughing eyes of Kíli. "So sorry I missed it." The latter teased. The dragon Fíli named 'Miss Jenna' tutted on about too much excitement for the healing halls, and keeping him for observation for a week or so, "Although, if he heals as fast as you two, he'll probably be out sooner then later." She patted Kíli on the head as she walked away and the lad preened. Thorin couldn't wait for her to leave. He had so many questions. Hardly had the door to closed behind her before he rounded on his nephews. |
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"Where are we?" "Sornieth." Kíli said simply and with an innocent smile. He seemed to be enjoying having more information then his esteemed uncle for once. Content to dole it out in small measures to keep the game going. Thorin turned to Fíli. "As far as we can tell," Fíli offered, "the continent is called 'Sornieth,' the region we're in is called 'The Sea of a Thousand Currents' - "A bit ridiculous, I feel, since the water is so still," Kíli cut in. "That's more because their Deity has gone missing, I think - anyway, the territory is called Fishspine Reef, and the clan that has taken us in calls the themselves Iron-Coral Caves." Fíli finished quickly, before Kíli could cut in again. Thorin had grown up in a wealthy kingdom; a kingdom that had well established trade routes throughout most of Middle Earth. Some of his best memories were of his Father, Grandfather and himself pouring over maps of far away places, ale in hand and chart books open. Thorin had seen, at least on paper, more of Arda then most could even imagine. Far beyond the confines of most common maps. |
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But he had never heard of Sornieth. "The rest of the Company?" He tried a different track, maybe Balin would know more. If the change of topic surprised them, Fíli didn't show it. "Just the three of us, as far as I know." "How long have we been here?" "A few days over two weeks." Kíli offered."Fíli arrived first, I dropped in a little after that... A Hunting Party found you about a day later; you've been unconscious for almost two weeks. We were worried." That last bit admitted quietly with none of his previous mischief. Thorin could tell that 'worried' wasn't the word he had wanted to use. Scared. His lads had been scared. |
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"Where you injured?" He asked. "No" they chorused. "...You weren't either..." Kíli looked hesitant to say it out loud. "All your wounds were self inflicted." Fíli continued, "when the Hunting party grabbed you, you panicked." "They had to tie you up to bring you back!" "Granted, part of that could have been from being underwater at the time. You nearly drowned." "Yeah, I only slammed into the stone floor from ceiling height. Walked it off." "If you had landed on your head it wouldn't have hurt as much." From there, the younger dwarves devolved into bickering; poking each other, followed by pushing, then hitting, ending in a full blown wrestling match on the floor. Thorin tuned them out. He had many more questions, but no idea how to ask them. Or who to ask. He was worn out, physically, mentally, emotionally. Maybe if he went to sleep, he could wake up and it would all have been just some weird dream. With that in mind he closed his eyes, and to the sound of his nephews scuffling on the floor, willfully passed out. |
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