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Bombur
Thranduil expected the fat dwarf to be the easiest to break. All the dwarves had been starving when Thranduil's warriors had found them, but for one of his size, the lack of food should have been felt sharper than any. So the elven king had a feast laid out on the table of the solitary room that had been designated to interrogate the dwarven invaders in. Such a feast would have had any of the elves in Thranduil's kingdom drooling, if elves ever did such disgusting things. Yes, Thranduil was confident that he'd soon know why Thorin and this rag-tag group had dared to enter HIS realm.
Only, when Bombur was led into the room, things did NOT go as Thranduil had planned. It was all too obvious to the studious eye that the heavy-set dwarf was barely keeping himself from diving at the table of food. Yet when Thranduil informed Bombur that the feast was his for the taking if he simply told him what his company had been doing in Mirkwood, the red haired dwarf grew silent and still. He clasped his hands tightly before him, squeezing them tight as he repeated the lies Thranduil had been told before about visiting kin.
No matter how Thranduil cajoled and coaxed, Bombur refused to budge from his story. The enormous stomach rumbled, betraying Bombur's false cool in face of the food he was denying himself. Yet Bombur remained stubbornly set in place.
Thranduil ordered Bombur taken back to his cell, declaring that the fat dwarf would be given half-rations for the rest of his imprisonment. Bombur's plump face fell, but he said not another word as he was taken away. In frustration, Thranduil ordered the food taken away, the sight of his failure sickening him.
Nori
Nori's shifty eyes and nervous hands led Thranduil to his next tactic. Despite the hard times that might have befallen his kingdom, the elves of Mirkwood were still richer than many realm of man and certainly more than the fallen kingdom of the dwarves. He had a chest of coins, golden cups, and the full contents of his former queen's personal jewelry box placed before the wild haired dwarf. All this, he promised Nori, would be his, to spend as he would, if only he would give him the truth of his company's presence.
The entirety of Middle Earth knew of the dwarves' legendary love of gold. There should have been no way that Nori, with his beady, distrustful eyes and twitchy fingers, should have been able to turn down Thranduil's offer. Yet turn it down he did. Much like Bombur fighting against his hunger, Nori gripped his pant legs tightly as he glared at Thranduil as he repeated the familiar lies that the elf king had been given from the start. Word for word, Nori's story matched what Thranduil had already been told.
In his frustration, Thranduil flung the chest over, pelting Nori with its contents. If Nori had been more recovered from the spider-venom, he would have taken the opportunity to snatch a few of the precious items that smacked him in the face. As it was, he threw the single coin he did manage to catch right back at Thranduil, catching the king right between the eyes hard enough to bruise his perfect complexion.
To Nori, the stunned expression on Thranduil’s face was worth the heavy iron shackles the guards placed upon his wrists and ankles once he was back in his cell. And when the weight of his restraints rubbed his tender flesh raw and bleeding, he would think back to that moment to find peace and satisfaction.
Gloin
Thranduil had heard from his son about the locket that Gloin carried; the locket contained portraits of some hideous creatures that the red haired dwarf claimed to be his wife and son. It was the weak point that Thranduil planned to strike.
Dangling the locket before the dwarf after he was brought in, Thranduil made promises of sending Gloin back to his precious loved ones, if only he would tell him his company's true purpose. How lonely his wife must be without her husband. How much was dear little Gimli missing his daddy. Surely whatever endeavor they were on was not worth being so long separated from those that should have been most precious to him. Thranduil was a father and a husband (though his wife had long since departed for the Grey Havens); he understood the pain that Gloin was going through.
However, although Thranduil had been expecting Gloin to break down, the heavily bearded dwarf had glared daggers at Thranduil as he informed him that his wife was hardly lonely with memories of their times together to keep her company. And Gimli was a tough young dwarf that was beyond the stage of mewling after his father. There was no way he could dream of returning to either his wife or son knowing that he'd traded his freedom for his honor.
Thranduil was at a lost; all stories said that dwarves cared little for anything that wasn't golden or glimmering, but he'd thought that after his failure with Nori, such tales had been greatly exaggerated. In hopes of calling Gloin's bluff, Thranduil smashed the locket in front of the stubborn dwarf and felt a warm churn of satisfaction at the pain that flashed across his face before he was taken away, back to his cell.
No, these dwarves were NOT made of the stone they held so dear. The elf king WOULD find a way to get what he wanted from them.
Dwalin
Thranduil studied the tattoos that spread across Dwalin's body, having ordered the dwarf to be stripped before he was presented to him. Those rough and crude runes told multitudes of tales, no doubt, but only to those that could read them. Alas, Thranduil had never seen the point of learning ancient dwarvish and the only person he knew who could have translated the dwarf’s tattoos was all the way in Rivendell.
Idly, Thranduil ran his fingers over the dwarf’s broad shoulders, frowning at the meaningless pictures decorating the warrior’s skin. For Dwalin was obviously the best warrior of the group, his entire body a living weapon, whether he was armed or not. Surely the look on the scarred dwarf’s rugged face spoke of Dwalin’s longing to smash his tattooed fists into Thranduil’s face. Not that Thranduil would ever give him the chance.
With a last caress that made the tall dwarf shudder and snarl at the elf king, Thranduil ordered Dwalin to be taken back to his cell and for a letter to be sent to Lord Elrond with each and every tattoo Dwalin carried presented for him to translate the meaning of. If these dwarves would not SPEAK their secrets to him, he would seek other ways of prying them out.
Bifur
It took only a brief moment in the same room as the wounded dwarf for Thranduil to realize he would get nowhere with Bifur. When the salt-and-pepper haired dwarf wasn't snarling in his people's ancient tongue and making wild, meaningless gestures, he was staring off into space so blankly; it was as if his mind had departed and left his body far behind. No, Thranduil could see a lost cause laid out before him. So he had Bifur taken back to his cell without presenting a single question.
Next time, he would press harder to get the answers he desired.
Oin
For the first time in his life, Thranduil was close to gripping his flowing golden locks and pulling them out by the roots in pure frustration. Never before had he EVER had to repeat himself so many times to get a single point across. However, whenever he spoken, Oin would frown at him and hold a hand up to his ear, demanding that Thranduil tell him again what he'd just said. The elf king was literally red in the face from shouting before he threw his hands in the air and called for Oin to be taken out of his sight.
With his back turned from the old dwarf in disgust, Thranduil did not see the sly smile that curled the healer's lips as he was led away from the king's presence.
Ori
Still fuming over the catastrophes of Bifur and Oin's interrogations, Thranduil slammed his hands down on the table before Ori and demanded that the young dwarf tell him the company's reason for being in his forest. He was KING of this realm, and would not be defied by a filthy band of dwarven peasants. Unfortunately, such an aggressive tactic proved to be a grave mistake.
Although the youngest of the dwarves had been able to put up a brave front since their capture (first by spiders, then by the wood elves), his brave façade broke in face of the elf king's rage. Ori suddenly burst into tears, bawling wordlessly into his knitted gloves and curling up in the overlarge chair in which he sat. The young dwarf babbled through his sobs, but Thranduil only managed to catch the words "spiders", "hungry", "tired", "Dori" and---worst of all---"mother". Hardly anything that helped Thranduil figure out the dwarven company.
Nose curling in disgust, Thranduil ordered Ori away with a dismissive wave of his hand.
The elven king was too focused on planning what his next move would be to see the kind hand one of the guards placed on Ori's shaking shoulder as he was gently helped off the chair and out the door.
Balin
Balin's pleasant smile and warm eyes remained fixated on Thranduil as he inquired after the king's health. Surely something heavy must be weighing upon him for the elf to find himself in such a state. The sincerity and concern in Balin's voice was so genuine, Thranduil found himself sickened once again. Although this time, it was not the dwarf that disgusted him, but himself. These dwarves were getting to him in a way that no other being ever had.
Looking at the white bearded dwarf, Thranduil saw through the serene expression on Balin's face and spotted the unyielding steel within the seemingly feeble creature. There would be no breaking of Balin; never would the elder dwarf even bend when it came to keeping the secret of his company safe.
And so, Thranduil ordered Balin away and retired to his chambers much earlier than he typically did.
Dori
Refreshed and with renewed determination, Thranduil sat at the now familiar interrogation table, enjoying his midday meal seated across Dori. A plate had been placed before the gray haired dwarf and Thranduil had invited him to take what he wished from the food that’d been placed upon the table. It was hardly the feast Bombur had rejected, but it was of better stock than anything the dwarves had received in their captivity.
Dori was obviously wary, but he indulged the elf king, eating and drinking what he was served once he saw the king start to eat. Only when Dori had finished his seventh cup of wine did Thranduil subtly begin questioning the dwarf.
Unfortunately, Thranduil had made his move too late. Dori had never allowed himself to be too big a drinker. He needed a clear head to watch over Ori and was determined to do better than he had for Nori, whom had learned the perfect number of mugs that would cause Dori to drop his guard much too soon in his young life. He’d stuck to tea when he could get it and, when non-alcoholic beverages weren’t available, wines that tended to be less potent than ale (or at least served in smaller portions). There was a certain number he could have that would loosen the normal fussy dwarf up enough to join his fellow dwarves in a bit of singing and fun, such as he’d done at Bag End, but more than that…
Instead of answering Thranduil’s questions, Dori started on a heartfelt lament of his failure as a big brother. His mother had charged him to look after his brothers and now look where they were. Nori was one of the most notorious dwarves in the realm and Ori, oh, sweet, scholarly Ori, was learning how dangerous the world outside their mountains truly was well before his time. On and on Dori went with his maudlin worries for his family’s well being; he just knew his mother would never let him hear the end of it.
Recognizing his newest utter failure, Thranduil called for the guards to take the drunk dwarf away. The only thing the elven king had glean from Dori was how fortunate he was to be an only child.
Bofur
Thranduil believed he was on the right track when Bofur had visibly brighten at the sight of his flute laid out on the table. The blond elf welcomed Bofur and bade him to take the instrument, smiling pleasantly as he asked the toymaker for a song. Bofur took the flute, but did not bring it to his lips; instead he humbly insisted that he knew no tunes fit for a king. All the songs he knew would either bore the elf to tears or make his delicate pointed ears burn in embarrassment.
Trying to ignore the insult, Thranduil assured Bofur that there was little the dwarf could speak of that he hadn’t heard so many times already. However, Bofur simply laughed and teased the elf further, hinting that Thranduil didn't have the "balls" for the game he was attempting to pull Bofur into playing with him. After all, EVERYONE on Middle Earth knew how frigid the elves were, mating only for political gain and procreation (in the rare instances that they even bothered to consider having children).
The laughter and smiles of the dwarf were wearing on Thranduil’s already thin temper. He was getting tired of dealing with these frustrating, dim, rude dwarves and getting nothing but cheek and falsehoods for his troubles. With a growl encompassing all the frustration and loathing the king carried for these stubborn invaders, Thranduil warned Bofur to answer his questions with all honesty, or he would learn how sharp an elf’s passion could be when heated properly.
Bofur either did not take the warning seriously, or denied the darker implication of Thranduil’s threat. He laughingly stated that Thranduil had heard all that they’d had to say to him and wasn’t likely to get a different answer than what he’d already been given from any of them, no matter what he tried. At that moment, looking at the beaming smile on Bofur’s face, Thranduil saw red; he wanted to drown out the truth in the toymaker’s words, unwilling to concede defeat to the dwarven intruders. He wanted to humiliate the dwarf before him just as he had been humiliated time and time again; he wanted to HURT the smiling creature with his ridiculous hat and clever fingers that twirled the flute he’d been given back.
No longer allowing himself to think on it, Thranduil pinned Bofur to the table, knocking the flute out of his hands and the hat off of his head. He knew of one thing that would inflict all that he wished upon the dwarf. With his vision still clouded with hate and frustration, he kept Bofur down with a hand pressed against the back of his neck as he brutally violated the dwarf.
And, though his guards looked upon their king in horror when he finally called them back in, Thranduil refused to acknowledge their stares as he ordered Bofur covered up and dragged out of his sight. The king left the room before he could see one of the guards pick up Bofur’s hat and flute, which he handed back to the trembling dwarf.
Kili & Fili
Thranduil was no longer interested in interrogating his prisoners. After the satisfaction of lashing out at Bofur had faded, Thranduil had allowed himself to view the situation with unclouded eyes. These dwarves were too stubborn, too loyal to something greater than themselves. They would not give Thranduil what he wanted; it had been ages since Thranduli had found himself so thoroughly denied that which he desired. And so information and truth were no longer his main objectives when it came to his prisoners. What he wanted now was punishment and retribution for all the trouble the invaders had made for him. He made this all too apparent when he called for Kili and Fili to be brought chained and gagged to the interrogation room.
There were no questions asked, no persuading small talk attempted. There was nothing on the table that could be used to attempt to bribe the young elves into betraying whatever---or whoever---it was they were all being so loyal to. All there was in that room was Thranduil’s injured pride and furious temper. It was not quick and mindless as it had been with Bofur. No, Thranduil had given himself time to think of what he would do to the two dwarves who so reminded him of the exiled king he kept locked away from all the others.
The gags were removed because hearing their screams and threats was almost as satisfying as the act itself. Both shed such wonderful tears, though Fili had cried more when he’d turned his attention to Kili than when he himself was under the Lord of Mirkwood. Kili had never stopped cursing Thranduil, even when he barely had breath in his body. However, what gave Thranduil the greatest satisfaction was their reactions when he informed the young dwarves that he would be sure to give Thorin every detail of this encounter when it was his turn to be interrogated.
Thorin
Thranduil did not take Thorin directly to the interrogation room. No, today would be a special day for the exiled king. Keeping the dark haired dwarf on a strong chained leash that linked his shackled hands to his neck and strapping on a gag to keep him silent throughout, Thranduil guided Thorin down to the dungeons where the other dwarves were being kept. Thanks to special magic that he'd had weaved into Thorin's restraints, the captured dwarves did not see Thorin, but simply another elf trailing behind his king. It was another cruelty of Thranduil's, allowing Thorin to be so close to his people without them knowing it.
The blond elf did not show his captive those that he had not harmed; there was no point in letting Thorin see steadfast Balin, frustratingly deaf Oin, dazed Bifur, or hungover Dori. However, he made sure that Thorin got a glimpse of Dwalin, still as naked as he'd been when Thranduil had studied him. While the tattooed dwarf seemed as hard and stoic as ever, Thorin knew his friend well enough to see the discomfort and worry etched in his scarred face and body. They heard Bombur's complaining stomach much sooner than they saw the (very) slowly diminshing cook, his face utter wretchedness. Gloin had been given back the shattered pieces of his beloved locket, which he held tightly enough in his hands to make them bleed on the sharp edges. Thranduil took extreme satisfaction when they moved passed Nori, still wearing his heavy shackles on each limb, which were now caked with a thin layer of blood. Thorin's steps were growing more stiff and heavy with each cell that Thranduil showed him. He nearly stopped altogether when he spotting Ori finally down to quiet, terrified sniffles as he huddled in the corner of his cell. However, Thranduil tugged hurriedly at the leash, forcing Thorin to keep moving. Only when they reached Bofur's cell did Thranduil stopped.
At the sight of the elf king, Bofur flinched and inched back on his bed, pressing himself against the wall. He looked terrified and so much unlike himself that Thorin turned a fierce glare onto Thranduil, silently demanding an explanation. Thranduil gave none; he simply smiled at Bofur, causing the dwarf to clutch his flute so tight his fingers turned white as he attemptted to hide his face under his hat as if it could conceal him from the elf's gaze. At this sight, Thorin's blood boiled; he'd lived among men long enough to have seen others (dwarves and humans) react as Bofur was. He knew what could cause jovial, warm-hearted Bofur to wilt so completely in Thranduil's presence and the look in the elven king's eyes told him that he was right in his assumption. With a half-smirk, Thranduil led Thorin even further into the darkness of his dungeons. He promised the exiled dwarf king that he had yet to see the best of his dwarvish collection.
Thranduil hadn't separated Fili and Kili after their interrogation; he'd had them moved to Kili's original cell, just so he could watch Thorin's reaction to what he'd done to the once arrogant, defiant younglings. If Thorin had been livid seeing Bofur, all life seemed to drain out of him at the sight of his nephews. Thranduil hadn't bothered to redress either of them, allowing the injuries he'd inflicted upon them to be presented in full to Thorin. When Thorin seemed too shock to react, Thranduil proceeded to explain exactly what he'd put the two young dwarves through, sparing no gruesome detail. However, he had just started on Kili when suddenly Thorin moved.
Much faster than Thranduil had ever seen a dwarf move, Thorin rammed his body into Thranduil, shoulder slamming into the elf's stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him and drop the elf king to the floor. With a scream muffled by the gag he wore, Thorin dropped upon Thranduil, doing his best to slam his chained hands into any part of Thranduil he could reach. However, all too soon for the exiled king's liking, elven guards were pulling him off Thranduil and holding him back firmly. The dwarf's eyes still burned as Thranduil was aided to his feet by several other guards, all politely asking if their king needed to see the healer. His eye blackened and lips swollen and bleeding, Thranduil shoved his guards away and ordered for Fili and Kili to be separated immediately.
Thorin nearly broke free when the cell holding Kili and Fili was opened, but the elves holding him tightened their grip upon the struggling dwarf and were much stronger than their lithe appearances would suggest. Thorin's struggles stopped, however, when the sound of his nephews screaming cut through the dungeon. Rooted to the ground in horror, Thorin could only watch as several guards pulled Fili free of his brother's grip; bruised and bleeding from their "interrogation", Kili and Fili maintained strength enough to require more guards to rush in to aid in the separation. Even the guards looked pained as they struggle to break the young dwarves' grips on each other without causing them any more pain than they'd already suffered.
Thorin's heart bled as the elves managed at long last to part his nephews who continued screaming for each other, his head dropping in grief as he sagged in the hold of his captors. Tears he'd held back before came streaming into his beard. Thranduil smiled in triumph and waved a hand over Thorin, breaking the spell that concealed his presence from the other dwarves just as Fili was brought out of the cell. Catching sight of his uncle in chains, fresh tears ran down Fili's face and he seemed to fold in on himself, unable to bear the shame of Thorin seeing him and Kili brought low as they were. He knew that the elven king must have done as he'd promised, telling his uncle of all the things that had been done to them, that he had been too weak to protect himself and---more importantly---Kili from.
Thranduil only added to the misery on the young dwarf's face when he dared to stroke Fili's golden hair, promising to come visit him and his brother very soon. The sobs that escaped Fili as he was taken away were echoed by the ones that Kili was heaving, now alone in his cell.
If he'd had any strength left, Thorin would have rushed Thranduil once again and the smug look on Thranduil's newly battered face said he knew the dwarf's dark thoughts. The smirk didn't leave his lips as he ordered Thorin to be taken back to his cell so he could rethink his obstinacy that had cost his loved ones so dearly.