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i just know Bilbo’s hole was weak by the time they got to that mountain

“he looks more like a grocer than a burglar” and yet you’re still eating the fucking food

if only the orcs that killed boromir had that good of an aim

POV: You, a figurehead of a nation, have travelled to another land for a meeting as a messenger of your nation’s status of the captivity of a prisoner you were entrusted with. You were relatively calm before your presentation, your speech practiced, and your spirit as light as your feet on the ground. However, before you conceived to give your testimony, a friend of yours (who had diplomatic immunity in the land) drew all the attention in the meeting to himself. He regaled his hardships with traveling as a man set to govern one day. He spoke of the nearly two decades he had spent tracking your prisoner, a War Criminal in many of the other representative’s territories, at the behest of the wisest in your vicinity, a martyr of your generation. You learn of the struggle to capture the murderer that constantly evaded him. A priceless heirloom is brought up in the conversation, as how could it not be? It was the cause of the very meeting. Several nations were called upon to contemplate its destruction as none could escape its manipulation, its corruption greater than that of money could ever tempt. And it was your convict that held possession of it before his imprisonment. Your friends admits that he is glad that the fiend is in chains, not hounding after the nephew of a treasured comrade of a sovereign kingdom, a friend of its King before his untimely death in battle. You shake in your seat unnoticed as you begin to realize that maybe the daily walks for your detainee through the forest should not have existed. You are next to speak. Your tongue feels heavy. You are shitting your pants. You are Legolas Greenleaf, Crown Prince of Mirkwood.