open post;

[walkingarsenal]

Permanently open for prompts/starters/anything.

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[orcsurfing]

It is difficult to fool an eye of an elf, Legolas is certain what he saw and it was not the offered explanation. And yet... he concedes, in a way, not that terribly keen on confiscating a weapon that, at the end of the day, is as useless in the dungeons of this realm as any lock picks. It is keys, yes, that hold the doors closed, but it is his father's magic that keeps all but the fitting key from opening these bars. He's not worried, in fact, never has been about that in particular. Perhaps the principle of the thing was to strip the prisoners of their weapons, perhaps he should have exposed a liar when he saw another one, but Thorin and the sword of Gondolin was a different matter all together. Something more personal to see a dwarf wield a sword of his kin.

In any case, his father wished the company contained, and so they would be, regardless of whatever plots and plans come to life in their heads.

"Perhaps," he says at last, betraying nothing much of his private thoughts. He speaks in a fashion composed, calm, in a way that makes it difficult - nearly impossible for those unfamiliar with the prince - to distinguish whether or not he believed the excuse, "Does it possess a sentimental value, a little trinket like that?"

A little dagger like that.

Legolas wonders, idly, if the dwarf will pick up on his true meaning, but doubts so. He had the audacity to lie to his face, come up with an excuse plausible enough and were Legolas any less watchful, he could have taken it without much opposition. He accepts it even knowing it is a lie, for reasons he can't quite justify with himself; perhaps curiosity how far the lie would be taken, or perhaps interest in holding on to something that was, in truth, of no use and the dwarf must know that.

A cocked eyebrow in expectation of an answer is all the hint he gives, his look sharp like the blade hidden from him.