It's been a day to remember. A path that was too easy to lose, overgrown spiders – the cobwebs are proving a pain to get out of hair – and then the wood elves, who were unfortunately rather thorough in searching their captives. Fíli doubts that he'll ever see most of his blades again. But then, unless the Elvenking changes his mind, the Company isn't going anywhere, with or without all of their gear.
The dungeons are quieter than they were a while ago, when the others still had remarks to make, when they all tried to break down their cell doors. Kíli's whispering, not as hushed as he no doubt believed it to be, stopped when that one guard left, the elf maid. In the silence, the sounds drifting down from high above seem louder, although the celebrations are unlikely to become truly rowdy, at least going by what Fíli has seen of elves.
It will be a long night, and a long however long after that. They don't have that time.
But now that it is quiet, no guards passing by, there is something that Fíli can do with what may be a rare chance for it. He peers out of his cell first, a glance through the bars as far as they'll allow, and listens. Still nothing. Certain of that, he reaches inside his boot, retrieving a knife that remained undisturbed in its hiding place, one of the very last on him. It's getting relocated, just in case – the elves haven't asked him to take his trousers off, either, and so it will be only most of his blades that he'll never see again, not all.
Then, suddenly, comes an accusing voice to pierce the quiet before Fíli realizes that its owner has approached his cell with steps he didn't hear. He quickly slips the knife inside his pocket and turns his head.
It's the pale-haired guard, the other one in charge. The one who called Thorin a liar and a thief and had a few insults for Glóin's family. Fíli meets the elf's cool gaze. "Not much left for me to hide,” he answers, but he knows that elven eyes are said to be sharp. "You had us searched from head to toe."
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The dungeons are quieter than they were a while ago, when the others still had remarks to make, when they all tried to break down their cell doors. Kíli's whispering, not as hushed as he no doubt believed it to be, stopped when that one guard left, the elf maid. In the silence, the sounds drifting down from high above seem louder, although the celebrations are unlikely to become truly rowdy, at least going by what Fíli has seen of elves.
It will be a long night, and a long however long after that. They don't have that time.
But now that it is quiet, no guards passing by, there is something that Fíli can do with what may be a rare chance for it. He peers out of his cell first, a glance through the bars as far as they'll allow, and listens. Still nothing. Certain of that, he reaches inside his boot, retrieving a knife that remained undisturbed in its hiding place, one of the very last on him. It's getting relocated, just in case – the elves haven't asked him to take his trousers off, either, and so it will be only most of his blades that he'll never see again, not all.
Then, suddenly, comes an accusing voice to pierce the quiet before Fíli realizes that its owner has approached his cell with steps he didn't hear. He quickly slips the knife inside his pocket and turns his head.
It's the pale-haired guard, the other one in charge. The one who called Thorin a liar and a thief and had a few insults for Glóin's family. Fíli meets the elf's cool gaze. "Not much left for me to hide,” he answers, but he knows that elven eyes are said to be sharp. "You had us searched from head to toe."