Thorin woke a free man.
It was a strange feeling. His slave rune was gone, he had been unconscious through most of the pain.
His nails still had blood under them.
That was something which made him stare into space. It had been easy to do as asked back when the pain brought him to his knees.
But now he was free. His bloody hands were heavy. Heavy like a mountain, and just as dangerous.
He took a deep breath.
How was he supposed to live his life now? Should he go back home? To the town under the mountain where he had been born in?
No one was going to greet him. Everyone knew what he was. Everyone would shun him.
He took a bit of snow from the ground and began to try to wash his hands.
The slave rune had left a scar. There was no place for him under the world.
He looked at the remains of his campfire, stilling in the motion. He was a warrior. With or without the runes, blood would end up under his fingernails.
