Thorin hefted the war hammer, peering out the slit in the wall at the Gate, at the Men gathered below. His fellows bustled around him in preparation, while their little burglar huddled in the corner, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Thorin thought of the treasures that gleamed in the flickering orange light of the torches. Treasure that rightfully belonged to the King Under the Mountain and his companions.
He heard shouts below, the gathering of his foes. He would never surrender. He had only one priority now. To keep safe what rightfully belonged to the Dwarves.