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Summary
Thranduil turned back to him, his face completely devoid of any expression. He was made of cold, cold ice, but something in his eyes seemed to shimmer with a heat that Thorin didn’t quite understand.
“I would require a guarantee,” the Elvenking told him. “A deposit of sorts.”
“What are you talking about?” Thorin asked. His tone was severe, but he felt bewildered. “Did you not hear me? You already took all we own! I have nothing but the clothes on my back!”
There was a pause, and then Thranduil said, very carefully: “Then I will accept that as your payment.”
