A/N: I'm just gonna say right now that this is a terrible chapter. It was so hard to write for whatever reason, but it's finally done. I hardly even proof read it because I'm so sick of it and just want to post it, but I'll probably go back and make some edits later. If you see any, let me know. Thanks!

Thorin was utterly confused.

One second he'd been with the group and the next he was being spun towards a thick clump of trees he could not remember being there a moment ago.

His body slammed against the rough trunks with all the force of the blow he'd been dealt. Where had it come from?

The spiders.

Yes.

He was being attacked.

Vaguely, he wondered if he should just shift and be done with the lot of them, but then he would lose his jacket, his sword… and that wouldn't set a very good example for his nephews, now would it?

Speaking of his sword…

He drew Orcist out of it's sheath, brandishing it at the spiders as if he held a fabled weapon made long ago specifically to destroy them.

Well.

He supposed that it was but-

One of the creatures launched itself at him before he could finish the thought and he sliced three of its legs clear off it's body.

Thorin was just about to strike towards the spider's head when an arrow pierced it's hide.

The creature let out a wail and crumpled, it's remaining limbs curling towards its abdomen as it died.

He only had a split second to wonder what in the name of Mahal had caused this when there were a bunch of tall buggers surrounding him, speaking rapidly to each other in their native tone.

Inwardly, he cursed them and everything they stood for, but on the outside, he was as cool and collected as the stone his people came from.

They searched him of course, stealing his blade and calling a thief for possessing it, but he would not let them get to him. He refused to let them win.

Anger simmered just below the surface as they bound his hands together, poking and prodding him in the direction they desired him to move.

He tried to count the turns they took, tried to memorize the way to get to the palace, but he'd been so turned around to begin with that it only took mere moments for him to once again be completely lost.

Thorin Oakenshield was in the halls of Thranduil the blasted Elf King sooner than he thought possible. So much for trying avoid being detected. Where had they gone wrong?

Right.

Spiders.

He could still feel the venom coursing through his veins. It was making him nauseous, making it harder to think. And just when he needed to be clear headed…

It took him a second, but just as the doors slammed shut behind him, he realized he could use it to his advantage.

He let his feet slide out from under him just slightly, forcing the elven guard to his right to catch him.

"Watch it," the tree-shagger snapped.

Thorin just wavered slightly and gave the russet haired bastard a confused look, as if he wasn't sure exactly what was going on.

Even if this was only partially true, it was true nonetheless. Why he'd been bound and treated like a common prisoner was beyond him. He hadn't done anything truly wrong. The one who deserved to be punished was not himself, that was for certain.

All the same, before he could really get a good look at the palace he was being marched through he was being shoved to his knees in front of a large throne on which sat…

Thranduil.

He resisted the urge to throw himself towards the elf and tear off the points of those stupid ears.

"Thorin Oakenshield himself," the bastard drawled, glaring down at the dwarf in front of him as if he smelled particularly nasty that day.

Which he might have. They hadn't found a bathable stream for nigh upon a week, if that was indeed how long they'd been in the forest.

But that didn't matter.

Focus Thorin.

He stayed silent, staring at the ground as if he didn't have enough energy to lift his head.

"What brings you into my kingdom?" Thranduil questioned.

Thorin pretended as if he didn't hear. Keeping his head bowed took nearly all his willpower, but in order for his plan to bide more time to work, he'd have to play dumb.

"Are you deaf to my words?" the elf king sat forward in his seat, "Or just too thick headed to understand them?"

Thorin muttered something in Khuzdul, shifting slightly in a way that showed how hard it was for him to continue to be upright.

You're sick. The spider venom is making it hard for you to understand what is going on here. You're sick. The spider venom is making it hard for you-

His chant was interrupted when the guard next to him jabbed at him lightly with the butt of his spear, "Speak up."

He repeated himself, much louder this time, shouting the half formed curse with slurred words that even the best interpreter wouldn't have understood.

"What is he going on about?" Thranduil snapped.

"Spiders!" Thorin yelled hoarsely, "You have to kill them, the spiders are coming-"

And he listed to the side as if exhausted, on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Where did you find him?!" the elf king seemed unsettled.

"He was surrounded by a nest of the nefarious creatures, sire-"

"Oh, he's no use to us now, then is he? They've poisoned him. See him to a cell, when he's recovered you can bring him back to me," Thranduil ordered, "And tell Tauriel she is to report to me on the progress of destroying their nest when she returns."

"Yes my king," the guard gave a small aborted bow before dragging Thorin off down a dark corridor.

He must have fallen asleep nearly as soon as the door locked behind him, because the last thing he remembered was a russet haired elf giving him a disgusted look before stomping off down the hallway.

His head was still fuzzy, but much less so.

And now there was food.

After checking to make sure that there was no one around to see, he slid the plate closer to himself, shoving the bread hastily into his mouth.

He would never admit it outloud, but after so long without substance, the elvish food was one of the best things he'd ever tasted.

As soon as he was done with the tray, an elf unlocked the door, taking the utensils out of his cell.

So much for his first plan of escape.

He had just gotten used to the hard stone floor before a guard was roughly shoving him out into the hall, muttering something in elvish that Thorin figured was probably an insult to his height.

The dwarf responded in kind, using Khuzdul of course.

He barely had time to start rallying against the boy's distant relations before he was pushed forward, landing hard on the smooth bark.

There was an awkward silence as Thorin glared upwards, perturbed by the sight of the elven king lounging in his large throne.

"Have you finally decided to cooperate?" Thranduil leaned his head against his hand, two long pale fingers against his temple.

Thorin didn't dignify that with a response.

There was a commotion from down on of the hallways, and then an elf was throwing a familiar mop of brown hair towards the throne and Thorin's heart sank.

"I noticed this one earlier… is there by any chance a blood relation between the two of you? There's an eerie resemblance."

The company was being held captive as well?! Please, oh for the love of Durin let him stay silent.

"None at all. He's one of the only archers in Ered Luin, and the best at that, so I hired him. Nothing else to be told. Can we now move to the business of setting us free?

"Setting you free? I think we need to come to an agreement first, don't you? About something I desire inside that mountain… white gems, pure as starlight. Surely, one king to another, we can find terms…"

A fury rose up in him then, so white hot it took everything in him not to snap, "Find terms? I would do no such thing. You compare us as kings… you turned your back on my people when we cried out for help! What king would do such a thing? I wouldn't trust you to honor even the most basic of contracts!

There was no reaction for a moment, and then the elf king's face purpled, "You know nothing of-"

Thorin let loose a curse word he hadn't used in years. Based on his nephew's expression, he'd have to explain that it was not something he or his brother was ever allowed to use once they got out of here.

By the time he finished his tirade, Thranduil had regained his composure, "Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I'm patient. I can wait."

Thorin was seized from behind, both his arms wrenched painfully behind his back as he struggled.

The elf king, with a smug expression in place, called, "I wouldn't fight if I were you. This fellow looks rather hungry, does he not? I'm sure he'd appreciate your cooperation in exchange for his dinner."

Thorin couldn't stop the words bursting from his throat, "You'd starve my people once again, yet you claim to honor your word?!"

He knew he was losing control, knew if he didn't reign himself in, things were going to get ugly, but somehow that didn't really matter.

Kili was shouting something, but it all sounded a bit like buzzing as he wrenched himself free.

He felt his teeth sharpen as they punctured his lower lip, his jacket falling off almost of it's own volition, and then-

Everything swam around him in muted colors as he rushed the throne.

It hadn't even hurt like it used to. It'd been awhile since he shifted, he almost forgot how painless it was-

"Thorin!" the pup was shouting, but it was all fine.

He had his prey insight, and he would take it down with ease. There was no need to worry.

Before he could get much further, there were ropes being lashed over him, people had tackled him, he was being crushed…

He smelled blood.

He managed to wriggle around and see that the younger pup was bleeding from his snout, he hadn't done that had he?

"Bring him to a cell. I don't know what dark magic these dwarves have brought into our halls, but I intend to find out. Feed them all tonight, I'd prefer them alive for questioning tomorrow," Thranduil snarled, his tone livid, "And bring Oakenshield's clothing to his accommodations, we wouldn't want to damage anyone permanently by the sight of him if he ever regains his natural form."

The pointy eared bastard could take his clothing and shove it right up his-

Sometimes it was frustrating that others couldn't understand him in this form.

He was being dragged down the hall, bits of his fur catching painfully on the stone floor as he was manhandled back to his cell. Once there, they didn't bother untying him. They threw their clothing in a heap on his back, and then scurried away. They seemed scared of him for some reason, although he couldn't fathom why.

The shift back into human was a little less comfortable than the transformation into wolf had been. His "accommodations" were chilled, leaving his naked form shivering under the weight of the ropes.

Thorin quickly shrugged his coat back on, furious that he hadn't at least managed to scratch the elf king. The curse might not affect him the same way as dwarves, but it would be a fun experiment to try. Balin would be proud, he'd even take notes if it meant Thranduil's suffering.

The torch across the hall flickered as Thorin stared at it, lost in his thoughts.

Was all hope lost?

No, he told himself, Bilbo's still out there. He'll find us. I know he will.

Thorin wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was far too much.

He still got regular meals, much to his surprise, but there was no other contact. He heard shouting once or twice, got a derisive snort from a guard when he tried to ask questions and was informed that his company was being interrogated. But never once was he brought before the king again.

They probably realized that he wouldn't give them any answers. Or maybe they were just torturing him with silence.

He was almost asleep when there came a faint knock on the bars.

"Thorin?"

"Bilbo?!"

Suddenly the hobbit appeared, almost out of thin air.

"Where did you come from?"

"It's this ring I have- oh, there's no time to explain! I'm getting you out, and that's all you need to know."

"Master Baggins-"

"Yes, yes, I am being rude, but I'm half starved and we have a very limited window, so-"

"I was going to say thank you."