disdainfully | (no subject)

[Dwalin:] “Hold your tongue. You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!”

[Dwalin gestures at Thorin, and Thorin steps forward. The crowd murmurs in amazement.]

[Thorin:] “We are the dwarves of Erebor.”

[The crowd whispers in shock and recognition, and people crane their heads to see better.]

[Thorin:] “We have come to reclaim our homeland. I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North.”

[Thorin is speaking earnestly to the crowd, and the people nod in agreement.]

[Thorin:] “I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!”

[The people cheer and clap, and the Master looks on, calculating. Suddenly, a voice calls out over the crowd, and Bard strides forward.]

[Bard:] “Death! That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all.”

[The people whisper anxiously.]

[Thorin:] “You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!”

[The people shout in excitement and they applaud. The Master looks on, smiling and nodding at this turn of events.]

[Bard:] “All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?!”

[The people quiet down and shake their heads sadly.]

[Bard:] “Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!”

[The people shout, “No!”]

[Bard:] “And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

[As Bard and Thorin stare at each other angrily, the crowd gets louder, but then the Master steps forth.]

[Master:] “Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!”

[The Master points accusingly at Bard, and the crowd begins to clamor. As Bard looks away, Thorin looks at him in shock and anger.]

[Alfrid:] “It’s true, sire. We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark.”

[Bard looks around as the crowd yells angrily at him. He then strides forward and speaks to Thorin earnestly.]

[Bard:] “You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!”

[Thorin:] “I have the only right.”

[Thorin turns and faces the Master.]

[Thorin:] “I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?”

[The people quietly watch in anticipation.]

[Thorin:] “What say you?”

[The Master thinks for several seconds, then smiles and points his finger at Thorin.]

[Master:] “I say unto you...welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!”

[The Master opens his arms in welcome, and the crowd erupts in cheers. Bard looks on silently.]

[Thorin climbs up a few steps and turns to face the audience; the people hug each other in excitement and joy. Thorin and Bard stare at each other.]