Es handelt sich hierbei um eine meiner absoluten Lieblingsszenen aus "Der Hobbit - Smaugs Einöde". Sie zeigt Thorins Verzweiflung und seinen Stolz so gut wie kaum eine andere Szene, ist aber in der deutschen Synchronisation nicht halb so stark wie im Originalton. Darum habe ich auch den Artikel in Englisch verfasst. Wem das zu anstrengend ist, für den habe ich ihn übersetzt, ihn findet ihr auf Seite 2 ;) Doch ich weiß, es gibt ein paar O-Ton-Fans unter euch, und vielleicht gefällt euch diese kleine Szene, der ich Thorins Gefühls- und Gedankenwelt hinzugefügt habe, ja.

Far over The Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep, And caverns old...
They were leading him up the wooden steps, away from the cells in which they had locked up his friends. With every step the verses echoed in his head. Words, born from loneliness and the loss of his folk.
We must away
Ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold...

They had not enchained him. He did not exactly know whether to be amused or surprised by that. His heavy steps pounded hollowly in the silence of the huge cave. He raised his gaze and shot a short glance at his surroundings. This Realm did not even come close to the glory and strength of Erebor. They climbed up the last steps, and there he was.
Tall, pale, the cold eyes, which had the colour of the first ice, fixating him. He remembered those eyes. Screams. Smoke. Flames. His own voice sounded strangely in his memory. „Heeeeey! HELP US!“ Fear. He was caught up in the wave of dwarves running for their lives. The setting sun was burning like the fire in his back and illuminated the silver hair and the crown of the Elven-King, as he turned from them.

He bristled with anger. Oh, how he despised him. Chin up, he stepped towards Thranduil, calm on the outside, trembling with wrath on the inside. The Elf crossed his arms behind his back and started circling him with slow pace. It was not until he stood behind him, that he started to speak. “Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand.” His voice dripped with self-approval. “A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary...” He could feel Thranduil move towards him, but he wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of turning his head for him. His racing thoughts drowned the Elf’s next words. Sternly he stared at Thranduil’s Throne.
As if he deserved one. A liar, an arrogant wood-crawler, who had no idea about the world out there. How dared he talk to him like that! Hush, calm now. The fate of his men depended on every single word spoken between them.

The face of the king brought him back to his mind. He was now in front of him, eyes locking, icy blue to stormy grey. “You have found a way in.” It was no question. Thranduil slowly walked backwards, keeping a secure distance between them. “You seek that which would bestow on you the right to rule. The king’s jewel. The Arkenstone.”
White light. Crystalline spheres, beckoning, glistening. A desire he could not deny. His heart leaped up when he heard the name of the stone. His mouth opened and he drew a deep breath.

“It is precious to you beyond measure.” A sly smile appeared on the Elf’s lips and something crept up in his eyes. Greed. Thorin looked up at him. Still he kept silent, weighing out every word in his head. “I understand that. There are gems in the mountain, that I, too, desire. White gems, of pure starlight.” Thorin held his breath, he could feel where this conversation was heading. And then Thranduil bowed his head and said the words: “I offer you my help.”
He smiled, a small chuckle escaping his mouth and for the first time since he had been brought here he spoke. “I am listening.” “I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.”
Claiming. Always claiming what was HIS. What was not destined to be his!

Thorin parted his hands and turned his back to the Elven-King. He took a few steps ahead, needing to move his feet in order to control himself. He raised his voice and asked: “A favour for a favour?” “You have my word. One king to another.”
Shouting. Running. Fingers clutching around his sword.
“I would not trust...”
Ash burning in his eyes, the stench of burnt flesh in the air.
He could no longer hold himself back. “...Thranduil, the great KING, to honour his word, and should the end of all days be upon us!” The last words came out as a roar and he made no effort to calm down again.
The pounding of gigantic claws. Like thunder upon the stones.
The pain and fury took over his tongue as his hand darted out, pointing accusingly at Thranduil. “YOU lack all honour! I have seen how you treat your friends!”
Blood. Ice. Hunger. Cold.
Quickly he crossed the space between them, still shouting at him. The shocked look of the king made him even more furious. “We came to you once! Starving! Homeless! Seeking your help!”
Sunset and ashes.
He spat out the next words. “But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of MY people. And the inferno that destroyed us.”
Dragon.
All pain echoed in his last words, which broke out in the powerful language of his ancestors, wishing him a death in flames. And suddenly, Thranduil’s face was directly in front of him, so close that he could feel his breath brushing over his forehead. “Do not talk to me of dragonfire!”
But Thorin did not listen to what Thranduil told him about the serpents of the North. To what he said about his grandfather. He just stood there and stared, until the guards dragged him away.
The pines were roaring On the height.
The winds were mourning In the night.
The fire was red,
It flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

So, ich hoffe, ich habe euch gerade nicht überfordert ;) Lasst mir doch einen Kommentar da, wie euch mein kleines literarisches Experiment gefallen hat, und ob ihr meine restlichen zwei Artikel zum Thema Lieblingsszene noch sehen möchtet. Ich hätte da eine zur Enthauptung eines Mutanten und einen zur meiner Meinung nach besten Disney-Szene.

Two kings and one dragon

Kommentare zu Two kings and one dragon

Kommentare werden geladen...