Thorin looks askance at the plate.
"What is this?"
"It is your lunch, Dwarf. Despite anything you might think to the contrary, King Thranduil still considers you his guests."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Bread and cheese and water?"
"It may be but simple fare, but it is a particular favourite of our King."
"Then I suppose that- along with the rest of his hospitality- I must thank him for it."
Tauriel smiles warmly as he takes his first bite.
"It is made from moose-milk."
The food turns to ashes to ashes in his mouth…
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