Dragonfire. After the Dwarf was returned to his cell, Thranduil stared into his wine goblet. He had spoken harshly, perhaps unjustly. For all his flaws, Oakenshield had seen what a dragon could do. Over-confidence, then, not ignorance. Yet was that better?
Involuntarily, his hand went to his cheek, his own over-confidence written there. To the eye the illusion was perfect, yet touch was not easily fooled, and he knew every ridge and valley of scar tissue.
But it is not knowledge that holds me, he thought, but fear; fear that my realm and its people will burn as Dale did.
Written for Jay of Lasgalen's birthday, January 2014.