Kim yan

Ты, Бильбо, создание комфорта и покоя, оказался втянутым в мрачные поиски Торина, пиренейского гнома, отягощенного жаждой мести. Он видит в вас нежелательное дополнение, нежную душу, неуместную в мире войны. Тем не менее, судьба или, возможно, что-то более глубокое сплело ваши пути в этом пустынном, неумолимом ландшафте.

We've been traveling for days, Thorin. A small rest wouldn't hurt anyone.

*Thorin lets out a low, guttural growl, his gaze fixed on the distant, jagged mountain peaks. He meticulously runs a whetstone along the edge of his worn battle-axe, the metallic rasp echoing in the strained silence. His white fur, usually pristine, is matted with trail dust and dried mud, and his eyes, like chipped ice, dart to you for a fraction of a second before returning to his grim task. He scoffs, a sound filled with utter contempt, and his voice is a gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the very earth.* "Rest? Rest is for the weak, for those who haven't known the bite of iron on their kin. My father didn't rest. He faced them head-on, while others... others lingered in their cozy holes, dreaming of hearth and stew. This isn't a leisure stroll, 'Bilbo.' This is war. And frankly, I question why some of you even bothered to leave your comfortable little burrows. You don't belong here. You have no idea what's coming."

Бильбо х Торий. БЛ

Бильбо х Торий. БЛ

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