Chapter 10: Forbidden Glances
The Mirkwood forest was a living maze, its ancient trees looming like sentinels, their gnarled branches weaving a canopy that choked the sunlight into a dim, greenish haze. The forest floor was a soft carpet of pine needles and decayed leaves, muffling Mark Baratheon's steps as he moved, a shadow among shadows. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of damp earth and resin, a sharp contrast to the dungeon's stale mildew that still haunted his memory. His tunic clung to his sweat-slicked skin, the fabric chafing his shoulders, heavy with the day's exertion. His wrists throbbed, raw from old chains, and he rubbed them absently, the sting a sharp anchor to reality. Dust and pollen gritted his teeth, the taste bitter, coating his dry throat with every cautious breath. "Kili's out there," he thought, his modern lilt a defiant whisper in this ancient world. "Can't let him near her."
The forest murmured, alive with sound—the rustle of leaves, the creak of branches swaying in the wind, the distant hoot of an owl hidden in the canopy's depths. A weathered stone, half-buried in the earth, caught his eye, its surface etched with a faded rune, a relic of some forgotten elven ward, its lines worn by time and rain. Mark's heart pounded, a steady drum in his chest, his meta-knowledge a map guiding his steps. The scout's report had been vague, but he knew Kili was scouting ahead of Thorin's company, a lone dwarf in the forest's embrace. "Gotta stop him before Tauriel finds him," he thought, his wrist stinging as he rubbed it, the raw skin grounding his racing thoughts.
He moved silently, his boots soft on the forest floor, no system abilities needed—just raw, practiced stealth, honed from years of dodging trouble in his old world. The ache of it tightened his throat, and he shoved it down, focusing on the task. He reached a small clearing, the trees parting to reveal a patch of dappled light, the ground scattered with broken twigs, a silent story of a recent passage. There, a lone figure stood—Kili, stocky and dark-haired, his braided beard swaying, his boots crunching on the leaves, the sound sharp, betraying his presence. His armor clinked softly, the iron scent of his sweat mingling with the forest's musk.
Mark's pulse surged, jealousy flaring, an emotional override drowning his caution. "He's not getting to her," he thought, his wrist stinging as he rubbed it, the system's runes humming faintly in his mind. He focused, summoning Minor Transportation, the air buzzing with a low hum of energy, like a distant storm. His body flickered, a shimmer of light, and he reappeared a few feet from Kili, half-transparent, a ghostly blur in the dim light. The dwarf froze, his roguish grin fading, his dark eyes wide with shock, his hand twitching toward his sword.
"Stay clear, dwarf," Mark said, his voice a low, ethereal whisper, laced with menace. "The forest ain't your friend. And the captain of the guard—she's off-limits. Don't test me."
Kili's mouth gaped, his breath catching, the beads in his beard glinting faintly. Mark held the pose, his form shimmering, the system's runes pulsing like a glitchy heartbeat. He phased back to solidity, the transition smooth but draining, his chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes. The forest air was heavy, the rustle of leaves a tense backdrop to Kili's stunned silence.
[Minor Transportation Lv. 1 used. MP -10. Possessive much?]
[Achievement: Possessive Protector. +100 Essence.]
The system's snarky jab cut through, a glitchy pop-up in his mind, its irony biting. Mark's grin was tight, his heart racing with triumph and guilt. "I did it. Kept him away," he thought, but the victory felt hollow, tainted by his own hypocrisy—manipulating the narrative to control Tauriel's path, like Rick Grimes rigging a deal to protect his group. The rune-carved stone watched silently, its faded lines a reminder of the stakes, the forest's whispers a warning of consequences yet to come.
A sudden pulse vibrated through his system, a sickly yellow glow flickering in his mind, the air growing heavy, oppressive, like a storm about to break. The runes pulsed, erratic, their hum a discordant note that set his teeth on edge. "What the hell?" he thought, his wrist stinging as he rubbed it, grounding his rising dread.
[Artifact hint: A cloaked artifact stirs ripples. Beware its pull.]
"The Ring," Mark thought, a cold knot twisting in his stomach. Bilbo was near, the One Ring's presence a shadow in the forest, its pull a whisper of temptation. His meta-knowledge screamed to act, to find it, to change the story—but the risk was too great, the timeline too fragile. "Can't mess with it. Gotta let it play out," he thought, his throat dry, the forest's musk heavy in his lungs.
[Intuition +0.3. Keep it secret, keep it safe.]
Mark turned to leave, the leaves rustling under his boots, the forest's murmurs fading as he moved toward the fortress. His heart was heavy, the weight of his actions pressing down, his wrist stinging as he rubbed it. The clearing's silence was broken by the crunch of boots behind him, sharp and deliberate. Tauriel emerged from the trees, her red hair glowing like fire in the dim light, her green eyes narrowed, sharp with suspicion. Her leather armor creaked, the lavender scent clinging to her cutting through the forest's musk, a challenge in the air. Her dagger twirled in her hand, a nervous tic, the steel flashing like a warning.
"You left," she said, voice flat, melodic, but edged with wariness. "Where'd you go, huh? What were you doing out here, alone?"
Mark's stomach twisted, his lie ready but dry in his mouth. "Just… keeping you safe," he said, deflecting, his modern lilt strained, his gaze meeting hers, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.
Her eyes narrowed further, her dagger pausing, the air thick with tension, like a standoff in a walker-infested camp. "Safe from what?" she pressed, her voice low, a hint of curiosity beneath the suspicion, her fingers tightening on her dagger's hilt.
[Tauriel Trust -2%. Lies don't help.]
Mark's grin faltered, the system's jab a sting in his mind. "Damn it, she's too sharp," he thought, rubbing his wrist, the sting grounding his racing thoughts. The forest watched, its rune-carved stone a silent witness to his deception, the leaves rustling like whispers of judgment. He'd won one battle but lost ground with her, the cost of his jealousy a crack in their fragile bond.
In a quiet moment, Mark lingered by the rune-carved stone, his fingers tracing its faded lines, the stone rough under his touch, grounding him. The forest was silent, save for the distant hoot of an owl, the sound echoing like a warning. His sister's laughter rang in his memory, her lavender candles a ghost in his nose, the ache of her absence a weight in his chest. "I'm doing this for me. For her," he thought, his voice cracking in his mind, the system silent for once. The forest air cooled his sweat, the dust gritty on his tongue, anchoring him in this alien world where every choice was a gamble, his moral hypocrisy a shadow he couldn't outrun.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ The Hobbit I m Untouchable ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ The Hobbit I m Untouchable ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [Grimm, Teen Wolf ,blacklist,Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!