#( one written entirely in khuzdul. )

[blackarrcw]

@tilosecretbirb asked: Why didn't you say anything about this before?" (Fí to Elyssa)

The half-elf simply shrugged her shoulders, her attention shifting to the elder of the two brothers "Because I didn't know." At the time when she'd been offered an opportunity to accompany them upon their quest, Elyssa hadn't known that she could easily understand the words the dwarves would say in their mother tongue; Khuzdul. Her mother had kept much of her heritage from her over the years, only relinquishing what she felt her daughter needed to know.

Clear blues looked to the blonde once more, her arms folding across her chest loosely. Was he to be angry with her for not saying anything? She'd hoped not. It would pain her in many ways, losing her friend in all of it. "It wasn't as if I tried to keep it from any of you." Her words were soft, an urge to get him to understand that she truly wasn't trying to hide anything.

It was only with the encouragement of the resident Hobbit that she came out with it, after Fili had confronted - well, overheard her while she was in the library. What was she supposed to say? 'Hey look, I know you're saying things because I can understand your language?' That wouldn't have sounded good and probably would have set some of the dwarves off for a bit.

[lucradiss]

I love when people make the dwarves Jewish in their fics or they ingrain Jewish cultural stuff with the dwarves’ because like. Loosely or not their story is very similar to that of the historical Jewish experience!! Like. Being ousted from their homes by dragons on more than one occasion? Having to wander the world, assimilate into the towns of men, learn Westron and all but discard their language of Khuzdul (which is runic and I’m pretty sure inspired by hebrew)?

Not to mention general cultural stuff! Jews have entire holidays based off of fire!! We have whole stories of having to live in and defend mountain homes from those who mean to do us harm!! (And ofc the stereotypical dwarven greed and love of gold which I think can be attributed to the time in which the hobbit was written)

Tolkien’s dwarves are so Jewish and I love when people use that in their stories bc it just makes everything feel a little more full and fun to me personally

[court-jobi]

Erebor is your Rome

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 3,028

Ratings: Gen Audience

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello Tumblr! Here's the first of my headcanons that finally took written form~ only 8 years in the making... no time like the present, right?? This one-shot is an intro to Tessa DeVon, her delightful bond with the Dwarf King, and a snapshot of their story in-the-making.

Summary: While Thorin Oakenshield sets to work bringing some semblance of order to rebuilding Erebor, he's not invincible. He gathers his wits a moment and takes a spell in his inner chambers -the door still-ajar - just the invitation for the Company's Unexpected Darling to come have a chat and offer one of her trademark pep talks; as best as a millennial can manage. After making her mark in Middle Earth after taking a Journey with them like no other, life under the Mountain is a learning curve for all.

New to Erebor, sure, but Tessa's full of wisdom in her own right.. and perhaps that's all Thorin needs.

Read on AO3

Just past the hour, Tessa entered the open door and paused at the tension seeping around her. Around the great table in the center rose the heated points of each of the visiting heads-of-house. Their words laced in Khuzdul bounced off the aged, carved walls up to the ceiling.

She cast an unspoken question with lifted, worried brows- just a quick once over to each of the dwarf lords (all of whom paid no attention to her arrival), once to their newly instated King (she noted, with a less than subtle appreciation of today’s choice of vest), then to Balin, to see if she should clear out.

Thorin muttered something in confidence to Balin over his left shoulder, then strode towards his study with a long, rough sigh. Then an announcement later, Balin shooed the others out of the chambers straight away.

Tessa flowed with the exiting movement, favoring the near side of the door to see everyone out, planning to leave last. Chin tipped up to acknowledge each as they passed, Tessa stayed at the threshold until her dear friend reached her side -only to be stopped by the arm when she turned to follow suit–

“Not you, dear,” Balin said, were it so obvious by his laugh, “You’re the one he needs right now.”

So here Tessa remained- the only soul left in the once chaotic room, per Balin’s excusal.

The order– didn’t apply to her?

Although Tessa wasn't sure if it actually didn’t pertain to her or if Balin was simply trying to meddle with the rules for Thorin’s sake, the woman remained in the doorway with her thoughts. Tossing away the time for second guessing, Tessa simply entered further: after Thorin.

Closing the heavy oaken door behind her, the empty King’s study felt smaller than it looked. Surely this was due to the stark quiet in here compared to the room she’d just left. The office sat nearly untouched in these past few decades, save for the workable space of the green-veined stone worktable- once home to Thror’s entire docket of business back in Erebor’s high Age. Its spread was filled with business again of another caliber- one that rests in his grandson’s hands: to bring to glory everything that had been dormant under the Mountain’s years of abandonment and decay.

Thorin sat. looking every bit as miffed as he looked when he left�� not in the regal chair of the table’s head, but in a simple attendee’s seat, with barely any cushion to speak of. Sunken arms of the dwarf King propped upon open knees in the posture hardly fitting of someone of this station.

Tessa learned through observation early on; Thorin often pushed his chair sideways when taking an audience, to catch the sunlight rather than have his back to it. Its warmth and brightness was likely something he missed, but never confessed so. Though now, even at its afternoon peak, the streaks of shine gave no joy like they usually did.

A bare rap of knocking against the threshold’s grain made to alert him of someone’s presence. Thorin glanced at the hollow sound but didn’t speak. It registered when he looked up to her that Balin was right; Thorin sunk in relief again, letting down knowing his audience had finally left.

Reading a downcast face was Tessa’s innate specialty; so was the role she took as the token ‘mom friend’ in her university days. But breaching the topics behind such frustration as Thorin showed – especially regarding those of complex, ‘dwarven matters’– was not something she was familiar with. How could she, really; her experience with dwarves as an outsider was decidedly short, no matter how much they immersed her into their comings and goings. This would be her curse even should she stay for the next hundred years– she’d never know Middle Earth as well as her friends here; even now as she called it her home.

For his sanity, Tessa risked the walk. Resolved to be there to listen, if nothing else.

That softened feeling in her sought Thorin’s side, close to the desk… toeing the line close enough to the edge of the armrest– within his reach, if he wanted.

“Hey, you.” Tessa spoke life into the room by voice alone.

The dwarves’ King looked lost, studying the end of Tessa’s dress with focused effort.

“They are evenly split,” Thorin inferred the council’s ‘determination’. “After sixty years of poverty and loss, they cannot make a single, unanimous ‘aye’ for the life of me…”

So, the talks were not going well. This had to be discouraging. Considering the impromptu committee had planned to convene long before lunch– and it was now past noon...

“It’s a complete state of friction, no cooperation.” Thorin spoke his mind, “Have you been here all this time?”

“No,” Tessa chimed back pitifully, “Finished inventory in the Northwest Hall from yesterday. Just thought I’d check in, see how things were going.”

“You’ve caught us in a recess, then,” he sighed.

Tessa firmed her lips, listening.

“Nothing new, this.” He gestured to the plans before him- notes and scraps more than outlines and ledgers, “--the prospect of re-imagining Erebor, life within the mountain: this is a rare chance to start things over. A thing of purpose, of destiny. My grandfather kept such meetings close to the chest, and even closer like minds. I always thought more could be done, saw potential we never had the chance to build. Silly me, I opened the floor for our extended kin to ‘speak freely’. I never imagined such stubborn minds would greet us after so much time away.”

Non-stubborn dwarves?... That concept sounded nigh impossible. By definition, dwarves were hard-headed– even Tessa’s fairy tales depicted them that way.

“I’m no expert, but I’m not sure those two words can exist in the same sentence, hon.”

“I cannot argue that.” Thorin ceded. “But even so, this opportunity should lend itself perfectly to our kind, Tessa. To utilize talents of all kinds and trades… Would the noble houses not defer to each other? Ones who have worked in such conditions, who’ve accomplished projects of this scope? Have we become so set in our ways, scattered across the land of Men… We have carpenters here; smiths, masons- all at the ready- to understand even the-…” he spat and mumbled through a stiffened jaw.

At the arm of his seat, Tessa settled in to hear out his concerns. She flipped her palm upward in an offer. His stern eyes fluttered at the gesture, then softened at the sight, bound to accept it.

Falling into their habit of touch- the tender thing neither spoke of- Thorin’s giant thumb took its job to rub the top,

“I swear, whatever this Mountain’s so-called King imagined to be a uniting task, has made him a bloody fool.”

“Thorin-...”

Tessa stopped that negative-self talk in its tracks. A sweet smile graced Tessa’s lips as she said so, disagreeing with any talk that put Thorin in a bad light… even if such words came from his own mouth.

A dark memory turned to a reserved calm behind his eyes and his tone,

“Smithing in Ered Luin was tiring, backbreaking work… but what I might give to return to a job that was honest. Provided enough to meet needs. I can assure you, it didn't drive me to quarreling madness…” Thorin studied the softened fingers in his grasp.

This quiet moment from him: vulnerability at its finest. Thorin’s gaze fell back to the hands encasing his with a level breath,

“I know I should be patient,” even through temper, he could anticipate Tessa’s faithful answers, “but a room stuffed to the gills with dissent and conflict– nonstop– for half a day’s working hours, I cannot help but remember… this is not the life I envisioned for you.”

The release of his name left Tessa’s chest again, leaving no choice but to close the gap between his legs. Pure empathy brought her hand from his to clasp Thorin’s shoulder and bring the entire torso of the hero before her into her waiting embrace. Following the flow of her movements, Thorin found himself slumping to press his forehead into her stomach.

Unseen by his Council, his mind spun– past and present pressure warring. Now, he sought her for grounding with naught but a hand to her waist. If she could just numb him long enough to rest the growing throb in his temples…

With that gentle press of her hand onto the back of his head, perhaps she could.

“Well, Thorin,” Tessa lightened, “I didn’t really have a plan prior to my deciding to stay here. I had no vision to be crushed, so you’re hardly disappointing me.”

A chuff of warm air flared through a certain dwarf’s nose from his hiding spot.

“I mean, this is a huge step up from squirrel stew and the canvas sleeping mats.” she teased, the memories flickered in the mind like the lanterns along the walls. “Not that those things didn’t have their charm! But I can’t say a girl like me wouldn’t love the velvet getups and shiny bits that came with settling down in a place like this... You didn’t even need to do that much, Your Highly Majestic-ness. Consider me ‘right spoiled’~.”

Naturally, a displeased grunt masked his amused smirk. “You know my meaning, lass…”

Tessa chuckled. Grumpy dwarf. If she could lift his spirits first, then the head would follow.

“We have a saying where I’m from:” Tessa offered in this quiet moment, “-‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’-”

Thorin hummed again, peppered with interest this time.

“I didn’t ever have a chance to go abroad to see it in person- much less see the city in its heyday; it sat clear on the far side of the world. The whole country is shaped like a boot, it’s a peninsula with water all around it. But it’s a place we all learned about in our studies.” Tessa set the scene as simply as she could manage in a few refrains, “Rome was the birthplace of arguably the greatest empire in my world’s history- host of all sorts of things; how we made multi-lane roads, waterworks, even how we perform life-saving surgeries. Things like music and sculptures too– gosh, so much art, you wouldn’t believe… If you looked back on it, models from the Roman Empire grew over time into the way we do things today.”

The draw of Thorin’s waves tempted Tessa’s fingers, but she didn't feel like crossing that line just yet- it’s a private one, and a very serious matter, Balin says.

“But I think it’s safe to say,” Tessa swayed a little in her step, “Given the scope of this place, this world, everything you’ve told me you remember about growing up here… What this mountain meant for the North all those years ago? Erebor is your Rome.”

… Forehead still pressed to her sternum, Thorin’s head cocked.

“You say Erebor was a marvel- is a marvel-” Tessa corrected herself, taking a few stray fingers atop the runs of silver through her King’s hair. “Anyone can say they can imagine something great, think they know how to tackle something huge, all by themselves– but the second they’d try and fail on the first go, they’d write it off. Call the challenge something that’s too far gone. For such a great place, there has to be a great vision; and I’d bet on anything that you have that vision.”

Tessa trailed off just as she mapped his waves. Something about Thorin not looking at her directly made her more brave.

It’s those eyes of his, she mused, makes my brain turn to mush. Maybe it’s better this way; he needs to hear this, and I’d never get the nerve to tell him staring at me with those baby blues.

“You can’t help but see the potential, because you remember it at its height. To know what Erebor was, but also what it needs to be, now. It’s a different time, different age now- just like you said. It only makes sense that it’s what’s freshest in your mind coming back home, tattered as it is right now. And in the interim, you’ve lived in such a variety of places, so you’ve been inspired to grow. Bringing in the things you know and make it even greater.”

This seemed to strike a cord. Thorin tilted his head fully, looking askance yet comfortable in his spot to think.

“Any city can be great, sure. You can rebuild Erebor just like any other king before you. That being said, I know something else for a fact, too.”

The edge of hair hiding Thorin’s eyes begged to be pushed back,

“Given the state we’re all in, there’s no doubt this place needs more than a fair share of elbow grease. But I’ll promise you this…There’s something more to be said of the man who refuses to give up on it. And even more–”

A tip of the chin up, Tessa turned Thorin’s jaw up.

“--building his mind and heart up in a healthy place while he works at what he’s after? That means more to me than anything else. More than how many studded halls or linens or comforts he can give, or how fast it goes up. That’ll all come back to the mountain in droves… I only have one you. So when you wanna call a recess, you call the recess.”

A contented sigh left him. While the sound proved enough that he seemed happier to have been consoled, Tessa missed the ghost of a smirk that accompanied it.

With another hand passing over the divide of his (unfairly beautiful) part, the Company’s resident darling pivoted,

“How are you sleeping?” Tessa asked.

“I’m exhausted.” the deep whisper answered.

“Did you eat today?”

A pause, “...Not as much as you might like to see.”

Tessa bit the urge to scold back. He had the decency to look guilty about the negligence, after all.

“Then there's a good place to start.” Thorin earned himself a little backscratch, “The body is a forge- it needs fuel to light it. A good supper can sustain it enough to carry light for hours, even well into the night if needed.”

Thorin nuzzled against her -a nod, more like. This position caused muffling of his usually crisp-cut words into her waistcoat.

“You could pass as a dwarrowdam with talk like that.”

“I’m picking up some new metaphors,” the pride fluttered in her voice. “Is it working?”

“You are helping my mood, and you’re endlessly amusing…” Thorin caressed her hip, unable to stave off the smile.

Tessa quirked her lip, perched atop his head. “The accent needs work.”

“Hah- I’ll say.”

An aire in her laugh, Tessa knelt to meet his eyes.

God, he looks tired, yet now he seemed not so miserable than at the start.

“You know, I really would have liked to have known you sooner…” Tessa leaned onto his lap- “To have watched you spend time as a king already, way before this whole getup…”

“Sweet as you are–” Thorin hushed the sentiment, not unkindly, “I was hardly a king of old during our people’s time in exile. I guarantee you, you’d have been sorely underwhelmed by the name of ‘Durin’…”

“You led in the ways that mattered.”

“Out of Balin’s mouth to yours..” Thorin gave a playful wrench under Tessa’s chin.

Tessa shook it off with a smile of her own. The Company formed to bolster Thorin Oakenshield was not something to be overlooked,

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. Providing a way of life? In so many cities, for as many as were dependent on you? You amaze me already; how easy you make it look. ‘N even when it’s hard, you’re not above calling those you trust to help you. You made sure to keep a reliable circle close.”

In her comfort, Tessa barely registered– she’d sunk into Thorin’s hand as he held her cheek, adoring her.

“These are all the marks of a truly good man, to me– not a fool in the slightest. With a mind like yours and a work ethic to back it up, that’s how I know you can do this.”

Finally– a prized crinkle graced beside the dwarf’s eye. What a well-won smile. The reward for all Tessa’s doting: easily her favorite sight in all of Middle Earth.

“At the same time,” she brought herself back to the present- not ogling him, mind you– “I know it’s easy for me to say, I’m on the outside. I know it’s harder in your position… and that's why I want to be here for you ok? With proper care, that patience you need will follow. And the ‘impasses you need like a hole in the head’ will fade away. Bit by bit, under your hand.”

Thorin tested the idea again: “ ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’.”

“Sure wasn’t,” Tessa promised. “Just brick by brick.”

Thorin set a kind look back, drawing Tessa in by her jaw to grant her brow bone a kiss and met her forehead.

The last time Tessa gave a glorified TED Talk to the financial minds in the newly renovated Treasury, Thorin had been awestruck to the point where he didn’t even hide his sidebar with Bilbo: ‘What a queen she’ll make, Master Baggins’ he’d said. This touch spoke just as much as that moment, weeks before.

And to be true, his mind was indeed more sound now thanks to her, like rain washed over a steaming batch of coals to a bearable temperature.

“Care to share any expert opinions on how this Rome was built?” Thorin murmured into the space between them. “Any trade secrets your world would not mind you parting?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly there 1800-something years ago to see it. But I’m pretty sure it all started with getting a decent meal in the Emperor’s stomach before lifting a finger on any ordinance.” Tessa rose to pull him up to height. “Even I find a snack does wonders before picking fights with assholes at the council table, that’s for sure~.”

[erosofthepen]

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.”  Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia. 

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

[galadhremmin]

We have derived Caranthir liking the Dwarves (and vice versa) because apparently, Finrod succeeds in every field Caranthir fails, and at this point it's clear this derives from the in-universe writer of the Silm and his own biases. Think about it: "Dark Finwë" , a grumpy, prejudiced lordling, and "Hair Champion", most handsome, noble king, have met with the same people!! Yet the king of the first secret kingdom is everyone's friend, but the prince that trades with them regularly is not... seems sus.

Hence, Caranthir is friends with the Dwarves. (But that is just an interpretation, so you're free to think what you wish, I just have several opinions on in-universe prejudice and the almighty narrative.)

I think that 'we' might actually have been Dawn Felagund years ago. Maybe this reading existed even before that, but I doubt that-- she's been very influential in silm fandom and was long before tumblr was much of a thing. https://dawnfelagund.com/caranthir-the-slandered

I wouldn't say it's 'clear' that what amounts to Caranthir's entire documented personality derives from the bias of the in-universe narrator, though as you can see from Dawn's writing it's a reading you can argue for. There are a number of different approaches you can take to the Silm and its biases anyway. One of the few times when it's absolutely clear the text isn't telling the entire story is when it talks about the Easterlings. I've posted about this before but the recorded names are, uhh.... the ones to betray the elves are unlikely to actually have been named things like 'ugly lord' and 'ugly beard.' 'Dark Finwe' on the other hand is a documented reference to his haircolour being dark like Finwe's own; hardly a negative judgement!

I personally think Caranthir can be exactly as ill-tempered and prejudiced as the Silm paints him without becoming an unsympathetic character. If a writer cannot make a moody, deeply prejudiced man an interesting character that is a failure as a writer; there are after all enough books who manage exactly that. That is not to say choosing not to write him that way is a failure (obviously not), but it's not necessary in order to make a reader feel for him at all.

Just going by the text, I think it actually might make for a more interesting narrative to explore in fic to me. Because he does change his mind about something, and at a very specific moment; when he meets the Haladin. That is much less dramatic if he secretly been as nice and popular as Finrod, and got along with everyone all the time already. He's been raised by Fëanor, who said things like 'No other race shall oust us!' and rallied the Noldor not motivated enough by vengeance for Finwë alone by playing on their deep-seated fear of being replaced by the Secondborn. Very unlikely that had no impact. At best it has made him uninterested in humans in his area (while they're not much of a threat to ruling instead of the elves anyway). The text says they paid them no heed.

And yet! Caranthir sees how brave Haleth and her people are. He 'does her great honour.' He changes his mind and offers them lands. His tragedy to me is not that of a slandered figure, but of this deeply, deeply prejudiced person raised to distrust the motivations of human beings -- who overcomes those beliefs, offers friendship, is rejected! then extends that same trust to the Easterlings anyway... and it's those specific Easterlings, not the ones who ally with his brothers-- who betray them all. And cause the disastrous ending of the Nirnaeth. It's the 'to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well' part of the curse hitting him in the least fair way possible. Someone finally changes for the better, and the outcome is treason and destruction.

That is a very good character arc to me, actually. His aesthetics-based scorn for the Dwarves is reprehensible but strikes me as deeply Elvish, and part of his prejudices. Naugrim is too unflattering a name for them for it not to be common. His temper-- well why can't he have one? Sure there's only one recorded instance -- but that's imo because there are hardly any conversations in the Silm! Anyway I like some people with tempers well enough. Personally I think people are missing out on opiniated grouches.

Obviously the biased anti-Feanorian Pengolodh reading is a nice one, and I have enjoyed a lot of stories written based it. But it's not at all a reading that is necessary for me to read Caranthir as a flawed but sympathetic character. He can have serious faults and still, ultimately, be someone I feel for.

What I was asking though was if I overlooked any canon evidence of Caranthir being particularly, personally fond of the Dwarves; and it seems I did not. Also; there is room for Caranthir growing to like the Dwarves over centuries without an anti-Feanorian bias reading this strong, there is simply no evidence for friendship in the rather barebones narrative (I'm not interested atm because it's wildly overdone to me & I like variety).

That said, in my opinion making Caranthir the hidden, slandered Feanorian Finrod equivalent with a dash of Curufin's Dwarf affection is not as enjoyable as simply working with what little canon character is actually there. Because there is one (and it's not the greedy tax collector of some fanon depictions either imo)

1. To start with, wrt Caranthir as the anti-Finrod, I don't think it works that well. Sure sure dark/light, open/prejudiced, repressed/shouty, but different motivations, different locations, plus they meet very different peoples even if both are Edain-- besides, Caranthir's own older brothers do successfully ally with the Easterlings without betrayal, while Curufin (much more so than Finrod! no Khuzdul for Finrod!) is the Dwarves' Friend(tm). Also, a flawed Finrod already exists. That's just the regular edition. He has his own faults and (very different) tragic arc.

If Finrod never seems to have strong prejudices to overcome, and if he's not confrontational (which... look he's a diplomat. Make of that what you will. Pretty awkward there in Doriath, buddy!) he does have trouble facing his own complicity (he wanted to sail those ships despite the murders) until Sauron beats him to death with it. He leaves Valinor with the idea of ruling but he has to give up the crown. He's ambitious, he seems emotionally repressed, he's.. possibly paying the greater Dwarves to drive the Petty Dwarves out of their ancestral home to build a city? Oops. Depending on the version you go with in that case, of course; there's also ones where he's free of the blame of that one. Not of wanting to sail those ships and being uneasy with the guilt wrt wanting to do so despite their being stolen and murdered for though. No he doesn't kill; but he wants to use the result of it anyway, and to make it worse he is actually half Telerin.

There's also (to be fair, only for sure after the disaster of the Sudden Flame because that's the recorded instance) his guards killing random innocent trespassers to keep his kingdom hidden -- yes, that's right there in Silm, yes he's still King at the time. Beren has to wave that ring. People just seem to miss that he'd be killed without it somehow.

I think it's just too easy to reduce him to the golden perfect opposite of Caranthir. Yes he's described more positively; he's also just mentioned more because unlike Caranthir he rules an actual kingdom, the greatest and richest in Beleriand in fact; and does things that have a lot of very longterm effects, like helping B&L steal a Silmaril. They don't 'meet the same people' anyway -- the Haladin have a different culture from the Beorians which contributes to their reaction to Caranthir (and iirc their later fate).

Sidenote: Dawn's essay attributes the Green Elves helping the Feanorians at Amon Ereb to Caranthir's diplomatic skills; but why not to those of Amras or Amrod? This is the quote; 'Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves' -- nothing here indicates it was Caranthir who got them that aid. In fact A&A are the hunters, i.e. more likely to have roamed in various forests where they would have encountered Green Elves, imo.

There's also the very desperate times to consider in which this aid takes place. This is just post Sudden Flame, and even if the Green Elves didn't like Caranthir they probably liked him better than Morgoth. Also, speaking of cosmopolitans, Maedhros allies with, yes, Dwarves (Azaghal), Grey elves, Easterlings (and you might say: Fingolfinians); even part of the remaining people of Dorthonion rally to Himring post sudden flame (that means Edain and Arafinwean followers in Himring, at least for a time), and he manages to be friendly with Felagund despite calling him a badger. ;)

Finrod is not the only other leader to forge diverse alliances, and though B&L ends happily his people mostly do not. Caranthir's not much like Finrod in any way. Not in motivations, temperament, tragic arc. That's fine. No hidden kingdom for a dragon to eat either. Finrod could probably do with being a little less like Finrod sometimes, though he's well-intentioned and likable. Caranthir loves to shout and isn't sneaky. Good for him.

2. Curufin also already exists. His love for Dwarves is one of his defining and redeeming characteristics and boy does he need them. He's daddy's favourite, a sneaky overambitious bitchy bastard who is also a talented smith and linguist, and truly considered a Dwarf friend, which is apparently exceptional. He's quite flawed; tries to help Celegorm force a political marriage, laughs with a bruised mouth, seeming to lose his mind while attempting and failing murder after first losing his own stronghold and then the city he tried to take from his cousin. He's just... a personality. Mostly a bad one! You can feel for him though, because he seems like an utter mess. Many 'i would love to study you' feelings on my part. Would hate for him to be real but also I'd pay to be his therapist.

3. And then finally there's Canon Caranthir. A difficult, prejudiced person who despite that (which doesn't at all have to mean there is no despite, the despite is what makes it juicy)

- seems to be responsible for re-establishing (large scale?) trade with the Dwarves, whatever he might think of them (and they of him) to their mutual benefit. I don't think he's greedy either. It seems like a mutually profitable situation. Access to Dwarvish goods seems pretty vital to Beleriand, and facilitating trade is a real service.

As someone pointed out in the replies, the Silm does mention Dwarvish companies travelling east to Nan Elmoth and menegroth various times, but quote wrt Caranthir says 'Caranthir’s people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand' and 'when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand.'

They stopped at some point and Caranthir's people made it happen again.

- which means he's practical. He seems like he's good at organising, and setting his own feelings aside if necessary despite his prejudice and temper (which is an achievement it wouldn't be without his, hm, everything). Also he and his people as well as the Dwarves work together well because ''either people loved skill and were eager to learn,' despite their (initial?) mutual dislike. Those aren't bad characteristics; seems like it was an exchange of skill as well as goods and possibly providing safe travel opportunities.

I don't like the 'greedy Caranthir' fanon and don't think it is even that easy support entirely with canon. 'They had of it great profit,' the text says-- both Caranthir and the Dwarves. They exchanged skills and knowledge and Caranthir seems to have helped them start trading in Beleriand again. That's hardly Scrooge Mcduck.

- Another thing we can say about canonthir (lol) is that he apparently attaches a lot of value to aesthetics (was he a visual artist? is a he a sculptor like Nerdanel? WORSE: AN ART CRITIC?! Feanorian art critic is truly nightmare fuel) and that's why he dislikes Dwarves (of all things...). Either way points to 'aesthetics' as something apparently important to Caranthir. Which makes sense given who his parents are. What is interesting to me is that this apparently DOESN'T matter to Curufin, who is a lot like Feanor in most things. That's interesting!

I've never, never seen this but I think it would be very funny to attribute his aesthetic prejudices to Nerdanel. I love her; but why should her opinions be perfect? I know she wasn't considered beautiful herself, but she's an artist. She's got to have had some strong opinions on aesthetics anyway. I doubt it's the beards; Mahtan had one as well. And 'stunted'...at least some of this comes down to the Elvish obsession with height yet again. Hm.

- eventually Caranthir overcomes what have to be some very deeply held beliefs about human beings and their place in the world, and offers what for all intents and purposes looks like real friendship, not the ruling over Men Feanor seems to have had in mind at best. He's capable of real change!

Anyway his character works just fine to me from canon, and what he achieves and the ways in which he fails are more interesting that way rather-- neither slandered Feanorian Finrod 2.0 nor Curufin 'Dwarf Fan' Feanorion without the sneakiness and murder attempts pack the same punch as a stupidly prejudiced grouchy man doing his best anyway for centuries in this stupid ugly cursed land, eventually changing for the better, opening up-- and being brutally punished for it by the Doom.

Dammit. I hope there's therapy in the Everlasting Darkness.

hm a bit long but that's what I get for trying to gather my thoughts wrt why after considering it a bit transferring Curufin's love for Dwarves to Caranthir is a bit boring to me personally. Though there are still stories that still do it very well.

[winchesterandpie]

Small Gestures (Fili x reader)

Pairing: Fili x reader

Word Count: 1340

Warnings: anxious reader, fluffy Fili (yes, this is a warning)

A/N: I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s had some anxious days during this whole thing and wanted comfort from fictional characters! If you guys ever need to talk, I’m here for you! I couldn’t help the Princess Bride reference! Also, I know I promised another piece of Part of the Company, but this jumped in my face and demanded to be written, so that's been delayed a little bit. Sorry it’s so short - I can’t seem to write anything close to 2000 words anymore! Gif is not mine!

Happy Fili Friday!!

Fili had a bounce in his step as he headed through Erebor’s torch-lit halls, Thorin’s steps more weary beside him. There had barely had time for Fili to have dinner with his wife before the last of the many meetings that had taken up his entire day. He understood it, of course, as he was Thorin’s heir and had dealt with many such days in the past. It didn’t usually bother him.

Today, however, the prince found himself becoming irritable as the meetings went longer and further over time. Something felt off, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on the meetings served as nothing more than obstacles to figuring it out. In any case, now he was free and looking forward to returning to his beloved Y/N.

Bidding his uncle goodnight, he turned down the hall that split away from the King’s chambers, not seeing his uncle’s fond smile. Thorin had loved Y/N the moment Fili introduced her to the family, patiently nudging the two together when they danced around feelings for each other so long ago. 

A bright smile spread across his face as the door to his chambers came into view. He could almost feel his One’s arms around him already and was thankful there was yet time in the day to just enjoy her company.

Quietly, he slipped into their rooms, hoping to see her delighted smile when he managed to surprise her. Excitement morphed into concern when he saw her, for she lay in a crumpled heap on their shared bed, dressed in one of his shirts. 

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Fili knew that Y/N’s mind fought against her, whispering (and occasionally shouting) to her of fears that, in reality, were mostly far off. She knew it too, but sometimes she was too tired to fight and her mind got the better of her. Those days often ended with her curled up on the bed in the early evening, as she was now.

Fili saw the tear tracks glistening on the side of her face as he sank onto the bed, his arms wrapping around her middle to gently tuck himself around her. She was trembling, though the prince wasn’t sure if it was from her fears and exhaustion or from cold since he could see that the fire had gone out. Against the possibility of cold, he tugged their fur blanket up to cover the two of them. 

After a minute, Y/N rolled over in his arms to bury her face against his chest. He undid her braids then, setting the beads aside as his fingers worked over her scalp. If this was what she needed, Fili was more than happy to hold her and trace little patterns across her back, but he could tell that the tension wasn’t fading from her shoulders. And he was concerned by how abnormally cold her skin still felt. 

“Let me draw you a bath, love,” Fili murmured in her ear. 

“Don’t gooo,” she grumbled quietly against his chest, wiggling even closer. “Cold.”

“I’ll be right back, alright?”

With a final grumble, she relinquished her place in his arms, allowing him to get up. He carefully tucked the blankets around her more tightly before making his way to the washroom. It didn’t take long to fill the large tub the hot water and sprinkle in some salts and lavender oil, and soon he was returning for the dwarrrowdam lying on the bed, gently helping her strip and step into the steaming water. She caught sight of his hair pulled back (except for his frontmost braids, of course), one of her favorite looks on him, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

The drastic temperature change made her flinch initially, but she soon settled in, leaning back against the now-warm stone of the tub. When Fili’s calloused hands started working on her shoulders, she sighed in relief. Gradually, her muscles loosened and he pressed a kiss to her skin before shifting to wash her hair.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, melting into his hands as he leaned her back to rinse the shampoo out. The blond dwarf hummed in response, bending forward enough to kiss her forehead. His braids tickled her face as he pulled back, eliciting a tiny giggle that made his heart soar. 

“How do things look, kurduwê?” He broke the silence when he finished with her hair, resting his chin atop her head.

“It’s looking up a little,” she sighed, twisting just enough to kiss his jaw.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mmmmm, I… not just yet.”

“That’s perfectly alright. I just want you to know I’m here if you do.” It cut at Fili’s heart when she seemed to shrink at that question, and he was quick to reassure her. “I’m going to get the fire going in the room, ok?”

When she nodded tentatively, he pressed a reassuring kiss to her hair before setting off on his quest. She had been doing well lately, these attacks seeming to come less frequently, but the lion prince still knew that she didn’t eat as much as she should on such days.

The kitchen staff was long familiar with his evening visits, barely pausing to greet him politely before returning to their work. He pulled out what he needed to make a simple meal, knowing Y/N wouldn’t want to eat much. One of the cooks set a small tart on the counter by his elbow, and Fili smiled gratefully at her. No matter what Y/N might think some days, Fili could tell that the dwarves of the Mountain adored her, as was evident in this small gesture by the kitchen staff.

He returned quickly, setting the tray down on the bed so he could stoke the fire. Once he deemed it warm enough in the room, he made his way back to his wife. She leaned into his chest as he wrapped her in a towel and his arms, resting her weight against him wearily. He let her stay like that, pulling her with him in shuffling steps back into the main room, never once losing his careful hold on her.

His legs hit the bed first, forcing him to fall backwards onto it. As a consequence, she was pulled with him, a breathless laugh escaping her as she fell atop him. Luckily, neither of them landed on the tray of food.

“What’s this?” she asked when she rolled over and noticed the tray. “Oh, Fili, you really didn’t have to.”

“ I know you don’t eat much when you are troubled. Come, kurduwê, we’ll get you dressed for bed and then,” he helped her sit on the edge of the bed before retrieving her sleep-clothes, “I’ll read while you eat.”

.     .

.     .

Eventually, the quiet peace of the night and the warmth of Fili’s arms soothed her troubled mind. Of course, it helped when she put words to her racing thoughts, allowing the golden prince to assuage some of her worries. Now, she lay half-asleep on his chest, snuggled under the fur blanket he’d pulled over them. 

“Please, keep going? I like listening to you read,” Y/N mumbled when he stopped.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep, ghivashel,” Fili chuckled, tilting his chin down to drop a kiss to her forehead. She hummed in response, her arm tightening around him where she’d thrown it across his middle. 

“Thank you, Fee. For all of this. For putting up with me,” Y/N said after a moment.

“Hey, what’ve we said about that?” He was quick to catch the self-loathing thought before it could spiral.

“That you’re not ‘putting up’ with me.”

“That’s right. I love you. And that means that helping you is never a burden to me.”

Fili felt her nod against him before she spoke quietly. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“So are you gonna keep reading now?” He really laughed then, the rumbles shaking through his chest to her.

“As you wish.”

Thanks for reading!!

Khuzdul Translations:

Kurduwê - my heart

Ghivashel - treasure of all treasures

Forever Tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach @thophil2941btw @legolaslovely

Tag list is OPEN! Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added!

[esmeraude11]

On the Languages of Men

Something that I wonder about? The languages of the Men of the Arda. Or rather the written languages of Men not just their languages. The Númenoreans more than likely set their written languages, the Quenya and Sindarin, to the Tengwar script. Likely as a result of Elros’ upbringing among the Fëanoreans.

The Hadorians’ spoken Taliska dialect was likely influenced by the Dwarven tongue of Rhûn, same as the Beörians, but I wonder if they might have picked up the Tengwar script due to their long affiliation with the House of Fingolfin. There may have been some adjustments to the script due to any influences from Khuzdul and the Hadorian’s written Taliska may have adapted Khuzdul sounds with Tengwar.

They spoke Sindarin but may have picked up some amount of Quenya. However, their written Sindarin is more than likely to have been set to Tengwar rather than Cirth.

The Beörians’ Taliska was also most likely set to the Tengwar script due to their affiliation with the House of Finarfin, specifically Finrod. It is important to note that their spoken language was influenced by the tongue(s) of the Avari which the Hadorians disdained so there might be further influences in the written language. We don’t, however, know enough about the Avarin elves to say if they had a written language or if they were a purely oral society.

On a side-note, it would be interesting if the Avarin tribes ended up developing a system like the Inca wherein they had an oral tongue and developed a complex and extremely accurate recording system like the quipu.

I will say too. I can absolutely see Lúthien or even Dior fashioning a form of written Taliska in the Cirth alphabet. Either, in Lúthien’s case, out of curiosity and interest or, in Dior’s case, out of pride and a desire to further connect his father’s legacy with his mother’s. But Dior’s relative youth would make that a daunting task so it could be an incomplete project.

The Northmen are likely to have developed a written language entirely different from the Hadorians and Beörians due to their relative isolation. Given that various languages were spawned from the language of the sister tribe that diverged from the House of Marach, and due to the Númenoreans general acceptance/tolerance of the Northmen’s relation to the House of Hador, it’s very likely that they retained spoken languages that were mutually intelligible with Adûnaic-speakers.

Specific groups of Northmen may have been eventually influenced by the Elves too. Like the Woodmen of Mirkwood who may have picked up influences from the Silvan Elves.

I do wonder about Adûnaic though.

It’s possible that Adûnaic was set to the Tengwar script (or perhaps the Mode of Beleriand same as Rivendell?) But given the slow divergence of the Men of Númenor from the Elves it’s also possible that some bright soul decided to create an entirely new script for the language. Something that wasn’t derived from an Elven script (be it Tengwar or Cirth).

I also have questions about the Halethrim, their descendants, and the Men of Enedwaith and Minhiriath who were descended from sister tribes of the Haladin.

We know that a large part of the reason for the Numénoreans rejection of the Men of Enedwaith and Minhiriath’s kinship was due to the mutually unintelligible languages. They spoke languages derived from Haladin which wasn’t a sibling language to the tongue of the Beörians and the Hadorians, Taliska.

It’s also very likely that the Men of Enedwaith and Minhiriath were using a script entirely different from the Tengwar-derived scripts of the Men of the West. We know that they were a very isolated group who kept to themselves rather than interacting with other Men or even the Elves. So it’s entirely possible that they may have created their own written language in isolation from the Elves of Beleriand.

The Men of Bree, descendants of the Men of Enedwaith and Minhiriath, spoke Westron. I wonder if their Westron was originally set to Tengwar as the Númenorean Adûnaic might have been. And once Númenor’s influence was lost if Westron’s Tengwar became bastardized (especially given that Westron is a language derived from Adûnaic). We do know that their tongue was influenced by the Elves of Middle-Earth.

Given that the Sindar are the most populous among the Elves left it’s likely that Westron was influenced by Sindarin. Now, Gondor and Arnor likely used Tengwar due to their descent from Númenor. And their oral languages were likely dialects of Sindarin with the use of Quenya remaining, as we’re told in canon, in the use of notaries and the well-educated.

The Sindar generally took up Tengwar for a few reasons. One of which appeared to be it’s being more convenient as a written language than the Cirth script. So Westron was likely written using a form of Tengwar.

Gondor (and Arnor) may or may not have standardized their written language after some time given that there must have been some drift after the Fall of Númenor.

The Dunlendings are another issue. They could have developed their own written language. Or continued using whatever script the Men of Enedwaith created/used. However, they may have also picked up either the language of the Rohirrim or the language(s) of the Gondorians due to repeated contact with either group.

There is also a distinct possibility that they didn’t have a written language and developed a civilization around a recording system.

Haleth may or may not have learned Quenya due to her brief association with Caranthir. But due to her decision to move her people to Brethil it’s entirely likely that the Haladin picked up the Cirth script from the Iathrim. They also likely spoke Sindarin to some degree alongside their own Haladin.

However, we do have to note that the Haladin tended towards fostering their own interests and were often reluctant to adopt new things. They could have created their own written language and kept the Haladin tongue free of outside influences.

The Men of Umbar likely used whatever later script was developed for Adûnaic by the Númenorean King’s Men.

We don’t know enough about the Haradrim to say whether or not they have a written language to go along with their oral language(s). It’s entirely possible that the Corsairs of Umbar spread the use of Adûnaic and its script across Harad and that the Haradrim came to use it. Though it’s also possible that Haradrim had no need of Adûnaic.

They may have, due to Sauron’s undoubtedly extensive influence, picked up and popularized the use of the Black Speech’s written script as well.

I do like the idea of the Men of Umbar being a large minority within Harad but that not necessarily translating to them having overt influence over the Haradrim. The Haradrim maintaining their own culture and retaining their spoken and written tongue(s) even with the significant amount of cultural pressure that the Númenorean descendants of Umbar might attempt.

The Easterlings are another group that likely have developed languages entirely separate from the Edain especially since this particular group may consist of multiple tribes of Men. These would be tongues without influence from either Elves or Dwarves. However, like with the Men of Umbar and the Haradrim, there’s a distinct possibility that Sauron may have influenced the direction of their speech with the Black Speech.

They may or may not have a written language. Or could have a system of recording instead of one.

It’s important to note, however, that the Men of Bór were an ancient folk whom came from the East and were themselves Easterlings. They were affiliated with Maedhros and Maglor and may have picked up Quenya and Sindarin. Possibly even taking up the Tengwar script due to repeated exposure to the Fëanoreans. This could have led to them adapting their own native tongue to the Tengwar script. Or they could have simply used Tengwar for Quenya and Sindarin and retained their own written language, if they had one.

The Hillmen of Eriador were likely either descendants of the Men of Bór or the Men of Enedwaith. As such they likely used whatever written and oral languages they inherited from either group. Possibly also picking up influences from the Arnorians.

We know practically nothing of the Men of Khand. We don’t know if they had a spoken tongue, though we can guess since Variag may have been a term in their language, or a written language. But given that most civilizations create a written script it’s very likely that they did have one.

It’s also possible that their native language (and script) came under the influence of Sauron after he fled to Mordor and took control of the eastern half of the continent. So there might be influences of the Black Speech in their oral and written languages whereas the Men of the western half of the continent are largely influenced by the Elven languages.

I have so many questions and I’m sure that I’ve forgotten some of the Men of Middle-Earth but I think I’ve covered a whole lot of them. I wish we knew more about them and their languages and whether or not they picked up certain formats based on repeated outside influences or if they managed to retain their own languages’ in a purer form. Both written and spoken.

Sadly the Professor can’t answer any of my questions. So I’m left to wonder.

[x-kytanna-x]

Bagginshield asks!! 3, 5, 6, 10, and 11, please? ❤️

Thanks for the ask darling! It was really fun to do! ♥️😍🤗

3. Favourite term of endearment in khuzdul

That would be Uzfakuh, there's something incredibly tender about Thorin calling Bilbo or his nephews 'his greatest joy'.

5. A trope you've never read/found on ao3 but would love to read

Oh damn there's so many of those, I don't even know where to begin. But for now I'll say that I would love to read a story where Bilbo and Thorin meet as children and then numerous times as they grow up but never realize they have actually done so. Don't ask me how that would work, having in mind their ages, bc i don't know yet. I just want tiny Bilbs and tiny Thorin being friends and then falling in love when they're older 😭

6. A trope you have read many times but can't get enough of (idiots in love, pining, married couple, oblivious Bilbo, oblivious Thorin, Only One Bed)

I can't get enough of pining Thorin and oblivious Bilbo. You can go so many ways with it that it can either be incredibly ridiculous or incredibly sad.

10. A line from someone's fic that made you emotional

I'm to add this one from The Ravens of Erebor by navyfeather. That entire fic made me emotional but it was beautifully written and while I cried a lot it was worth it. I totally recommend it.

'“My wish,” the hobbit whispered. Thorin looked up from that, so Bilbo swiftly shook his head. “My – my wish, I – I wished to see you once more. I wished to have you back.”'

11. A line from your own bagginshield fic

More like a paragraph akdkdkd. It's from my bagginshield soulmate au. That fic is honestly one of my favourite ones out of all the stories that i have written. It has all the pining, longing and tenderness I crave to read and from Thorin's pov to boot. I absolutely love to read Thorin's pov 😍😍.

'When he got to hold Fíli — and later Kíli — on his arms, he thought that despite not having a One he had plenty of love in his life, and much more to give. Thorin believed, as he cradled his nephews in his arms, that this was as close as he would ever get to finding a soulmate. If he was meant to not have a One then he would give all the love he had stored for them to these children. He would love these tiny pebbles like his own children.'

[chibistarlyte]

this isn't really a headcanon but more of a pure prompt: since i just got home from work a hot minute ago-- bilbo and thorin modern!au see each other almost every single day on public transportation, who works up the courage to talk to the other first?

(i’m using the train as their mode of transport because i definitely prefer that over the bus. also, i mean they technically talk to each other when they say shit like “excuse me” but that doesn’t really count, right? sdhfksdhgfj)

The train was always so damn crowded by the time Thorin got on in the morning.

It was expected, though. His stop wasn’t until about six stops from the beginning of the line, and it was the middle of rush hour when everyone and their mother was commuting to work. So of course the train would be crowded.

Unfortunately for Thorin, he was a bit bulkier than most people and thus it was difficult to sandwich himself between other passengers and not disturb them by constantly bumping into them every time the train moved.

Today was his lucky day, he thought as he spotted a relatively open spot by one of the benches. He’d have to stand, of course, but that was no problem for him. He was used to it. He politely pushed his way through the aisle of people and came to stop right next to a curly-haired man with a book seated on the bench. Thorin held on tightly to the handle above his head as the train started to move once more, keeping his balance with ease.

The train ride itself was uneventful, as per usual. Thorin spent most of it just staring out the window and watching as the scenery slowly morphed from a mix of rural-suburban to a more urban setting the closer they traveled to downtown Erebor. He would have preferred to live in Erebor proper so that he wouldn’t have to commute for over an hour every day, but even for a jewelry designer such as himself, real estate in the city was just too expensive. At least the commute could be worse–had he decided to drive rather than take the train, he would have been stuck in standstill traffic for Mahal knows how long every morning and evening.

The train slowed to a stop at Erebor University, three stops away from his own. Thorin was busy admiring the artwork at the train station when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pardon me, but this is my stop.”

Thorin looked down to see who had spoken to him and his blue eyes made contact with a pair of vivid green eyes. He was face-to-face with the man who had been seated next to him and wow, he had never seen someone so beautiful in all his life.

Oh. He should probably respond, somehow.

“Sorry,” Thorin said and tried to move out of the way of the curly-haired man. He received a nod in thanks and the man weaved his way through the remaining crowd. Thorin watched as he got off the train, watched as he properly shouldered his worn leather satchel and straightened his burgundy blazer, watched as the man headed out onto the campus and pulled a gold pocket watch–wait, a pocket watch??–out to check the time.

And that was the last glimpse Thorin had of this mysterious man as the train pulled away from the station.

.

The next day, Thorin saw the curly-haired man on the train again. This time, though, he was standing near one of the doors, one hand holding the handrail and the other hand holding a book that he seemed to be completely engrossed in.

Thorin could have sworn it was a different book from yesterday.

The man was wearing a navy blue blazer today. Thorin had thought the burgundy looked good on him, but the navy blue seemed to make his light brown hair stand out a bit more.

He tried to spend the rest of the train ride looking out the window like he usually did, but he found that his gaze kept shifting towards a certain passenger the entire time. At least, until said passenger once again got off at the university stop. Even then, Thorin watched him until the train went around the bend and the man was completely out of sight.

.

Day after day, week after week, Thorin saw the mysterious curly-haired man on his morning train commute. And from just observing from afar, Thorin learned these few things about him:

1. He definitely preferred wearing jewel tones. And blazers. Every single blazer Thorin had seen him in had been a deep, rich gemstone color of some kind. Being a jeweler, Thorin could appreciate that.

2. He seemed to be extremely well-read. He had a different book every day, and from the titles that Thorin had happened to catch on a few occasions, they weren’t exactly easy reads. There were even a couple he noticed were written in a different language, though he couldn’t discern what languages from a distance.

3. He was possibly a professor, judging by his attire, general demeanor, and where he got off the train every morning.

4. He was absolutely stunning.

Well, that last point was definitely more subjective than the first three, but.  Sometimes Thorin found himself distracted by the way the sunlight would fall on the man’s round face, illuminating his curls to an almost golden blond. Or the way his favored blazers would hug his shoulders just right. Or the way his gorgeous green eyes would squint every now and then on a particularly difficult passage in his book du jour and he would silently mouth the words he was reading.

Thorin had thought about kissing that mouth more often than he’d care to admit.

“Excuse me, please.”

Thorin mentally shook himself out of his daze and looked to the source of the voice. There was a small smile on the man’s face as he looked up at Thorin, green eyes shining with…something Thorin couldn’t discern. It was then that Thorin realized just how short this man was; he barely cleared Thorin’s shoulder.

“Oh, uh, my apologies,” Thorin said, ducking his head as he tried to move out of the way…but there wasn’t much room for him to move. He sucked in a breath and held it as the curly-haired man squeezed past him trying to reach the door. There was a small thump as the man descended the stairs, which drew Thorin’s eye.

A book was lying on the dirty floor of the train, still thankfully closed and bookmarked but the cover looked a little scuffed from its tumble.

Before the train started moving again, Thorin pushed his way towards the door and picked up the book. By the time he stood up again, the train had started moving and he damn near lost his footing before grabbing onto the nearest handrail he could. He held the book in his free hand and dusted the front and back covers off on his brown trousers. Once he felt it was clean enough, Thorin brought the book up to look at the cover.

His eyes widened when he saw the title of the book was in Khuzdul. Now that was a rare sight. There weren’t many books written in his mother tongue anymore, and this one looked like it had been published fairly recently.

Just who was this mysterious curly-haired man? Thorin needed to know.

.

Climbing the steps onto the train, Thorin immediately began looking around for the curly-haired man. He had to return his book to him, and also attempt to strike up a conversation somehow. He wanted to know why this man had not only been reading a book written in Khuzdul, but a book written in Khuzdul about jewels and metal crafting.

Too bad Thorin wasn’t great with social interactions.

And damn it, where was the man?! Of course it would be today of all days that he wouldn’t be on the train.

Finally, as the train began to move, Thorin spotted a familiar mop of light brown curls.

As politely as he could, Thorin weaved his way down the aisle filled with commuters until he reached the man, who happened to be standing this morning and holding onto the handrail with both hands. No book today.

Probably because he’d accidentally dropped the one he was currently working through, Thorin surmised.

“I think you dropped this yesterday,” Thorin said a little out of breath, his heart hammering in his chest and cutting off his oxygen supply. He held the book out to the man, who regarded it with wide green eyes that a few seconds later locked onto Thorin’s face.

“Oh, heavens, thank goodness you found it! I was searching everywhere for it yesterday…” the man sighed in relief, taking the book with a grateful smile.

Thorin’s heart leapt into his throat. “I-it’s no problem. I was hoping I’d see you today so I could return it to you.”

“Well, I thank you very much, Mister…?” the man trailed off.

“Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield.”

The man’s eyes widened again. “Thorin Oakenshield of Thror and Sons Jewelers?”

It was Thorin’s eyes’ turn to widen. “You know of us?”

The man nodded, his curls bouncing adorably around his cheekbones. “Oh, yes! Incidentally enough, I’ve read a bit about your company in this book…” A bit bashfully, the man held up his book, his eyes darting back and forth between it an Thorin a couple times.

Thorin cleared his throat, nervously averting his gaze to the window. His cheeks colored, though any blush he might have has was mostly covered by his dark facial hair. He tried to think of something, anything to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a socially inept idiot, but nothing came.

“So, uh, you seem to know who I am. But I have no idea who you are,” he said awkwardly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I do believe I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Bilbo Baggins. I’m a professor of Sindarin at Erebor University.”

Well, that confirmed Thorin’s assumptions that he must be a professor of some sort.

“So you’re a linguist?” Thorin asked. He idly wondered what other languages this man–Bilbo, what a nice name, it suited him somehow–spoke.

Bilbo laughed a little nervously. “Ah, I like to dabble, yes. Sindarin is the only other language I speak fluently, though.”

Well, Thorin could definitely help with that, being a native Khuzdul speaker.

“Oh, this is my stop!” Bilbo announced almost hurriedly, like the university stop had crept up on him without his knowledge. Thorin briefly looked out the window to confirm. Had time really gone that quickly?

“Um, thank you so much again for returning my book, Thorin! I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost it for good!” Bilbo then laughed nervously again. “And it was very nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? What did Bilbo mean by that? Thorin didn’t have much time to wonder about it, though, because Bilbo was already squeezing past him for the door. “Nice to meet you too, Bilbo!” he called out. The professor waved to him as he exited the train.

The doors closed and Thorin looked out the window, blue eyes meeting green for the briefest of moments before the train continued on its way.

Thorin allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. He couldn’t wait to talk to Bilbo more tomorrow.

[northisnotup]

32 and 54!

pregnancy fic/secret relationship - I know, in my heart-of-hearts what pairing you probably want but, I cannot, in good conscience commit to it. Which is a real shame, as you may not know this about me, but hi, my name is North and I am baby-crazy! So, I’m gonna grab at a fandom & pairing I have never “officially” written for, instead! @themarchrabbit Helped me out so much with this, blessings on her name

Bifur never officially, never openly courts Dori son of Glori. Not even after the Mountain is theirs and he isn’t a simple toymaker with barely a copper to his name anymore.

Now he’s a Dwarrow of means and standing….and his tongue still refuses to fold around anything not Khuzdul and his hands shake around anything but a carving knife. Even his Iglishmêk is hesitant and slow, after the Battle.

Dori’s a shining example of Dwarrow beauty, a hero, titled and’s got a little brother who will be Prince-Consort soon enough. There’s no need for him to take his time with a battled old toy-maker. None at all.

But, courtship or no, he does. They share tea and company and bed sheets and oh, Bifur loves him. He knew, he’s always known he’d fall fast and hard and dedicate his life to the One he loves. And when the axe through his head took most of his speech and clarity and prospects, he laid his dream down and was content.

“Well, it’s settled.” Dori sounds smugly satisfied with himself, and it can’t be Ori, because negotiations on his betrothal were finished two weeks ago, once he began to show. And it can’t be his work because last Bifur heard he was still edging around a duel with the head of the cobbler’s guilde, and Nori’s not been in trouble since he was made to report to the King-Regent’s spymaster, and he’s got nothing in his hands….

Dori busses a kiss against his cheek and whatever Bifur may have wanted to sign is lost to the contentment that seeps through his core at even that simple touch.

“Now you’ll have to openly court me, no more excuses.”

Bifur’s knife misses the wood entirely, carving air in his surprise. What? The block of wood he was shaping is abandoned on the side-table as he starts to form his questions.

Dori’s satisfaction glows. “I’m carrying.”

The knife clatters to the floor from nerveless fingers that twitch and stumble over signs turning whatever he would say into gibberish. Finally after what amounts to flapping his hands uselessly in the air for a minute or so he places on hand tentatively over his heart and reaches for Dori’s stomach with the other.

Dori laughs, reaching down to lock their fingers together on the flat of Dori’s stomach. Carrying.

The whole ‘Ri line is full of Bearer’s, but even as Ori’s stomach curves out with every passing week and many an eye (and coin) on Nori’s own, Bifur never expected Dori to… they were so careful.

“I know I’m old for it, and I know you have your reasons, however I may disagree. But I want to have this child with you, lansel.”

His eyes burn and Bifu draws both of his weathered hands up to cover his tear-filled eyes. Love of Loves. Oh. He’s been so stupid, so scared and stupid.

“Bifur?”

Bifur nods his head as hard as he can with his eyes still hidden. A child. A small fuss-pot, strong like their bearer who will be spoiled rotten by Bofur and Bombur and have a playmate and best friend in his cousin, the prince.

Theirs is not a grand love story, not like Ori’s, or even a starcrossed drama like Nori’s. Theirs is more the embers of a fire, slow, long lasting heat which warms you all the way through. At his age, Dori has turned down exactly three hundred courtship gifts and offers of marriage. He waited his whole life to find the dwarrow he would love with all his heart, and was willing to stay with him even without the proper courting or traditional marriage. But now he’s carrying. At his age! A child with the one his heart chose. It’s perfect, and amazing and it’s too much. Dori likes rules, likes traditions, pinned and patterned, it’s who he is. Now he is going to get his child’s sire and marry him. Period.

[roimelenkho-blog]

headcanon: names.

As many other wonderful people have pointed out and, by this point, extensively written about, it is not uncommon for elves to have more than one name. Since i’ve been meaning to write this for the past three years, at this point, here is an as brief as possible explanation of Himêleth’s many names. 

For reference, her full, Kwenjâ name is: Tulukilja (Kandâneli) Mornâwahsien (Aikarwâhsitien) E-dela-lethsa-di’elenî Roimelenkho.

KWENJÂ (IE, PRIMITIVE ELVISH) NAMES.

First things first -- Himêleth is not the name she was born with. Himêleth is the sindarin form of her kwenjâ name, Tulukilja. The translation of both of those names is steadfast star. An alternate form of Tulukilja is Kandâneli -- the latter, however, was predominantly used amongst the first men they encountered, and was treated as an alternate, not a definite, form of the name. Tulukilja is to be considered her mother-name, the name D’râktâri gave her firstborn daughter shortly after her birth. As is custom, Tulukilja also has a father-name: Mornâwahsien, made using the alternate form of her father (Aikarwâhsiti)’s name, Mornâwahse. 

E-dela-lethsa-di’elenî is the name that, amongst the Vanyar, is considered the Kilmessë. In Himeleth’s case it loosely translates, from Kwenjâ to “eldest daughter to dance beneath the stars”. Both a promise of her status as Chief’s daughter, and her willingness to abandon Thranduil’s halls to follow her urge and need to, simply put, “dance”. Whether this involves her connection to the forest, the desert or the stars per se, and whether this is a direct reference to her own freedom and choice to leave Thranduil’s Halls, is, perhaps, not entirely clear to her either.

Similarly to how High Elves were given an epessë, or a “professional” title (for lack of a better word), the Kwendi also took upon themselves a title later in life. In Tulukilja’s case, it is Roimelenkho -- the Star Hunter. People who have been with me and this character for a while might recognize that as the name of my old blog’s url. 

OTHER NAMES.

Due to their secretive, often reserved nature (more dangerous, less wise after all), many of the Gaîs D’rak do not bother to translate all of their names from one language to the other. For example, as she sees little reason to do so, Tulukilja has only bothered to translate her name to Sindarin, as it was the primary language her mother’s people used to communicate with Oropher’s, alongside Kwenjâ. Therefore, she takes upon herself the aforementioned name of Himêleth, a literal translation of Tulukilja.

However, due to the nomadic nature of their people, and the initial extended contacts they held especially in the East, Tulukilja has recieved a few titles and alternate names along the way, listed below.

Azarhîn (Adûnaic). Literally “warrior’s child” or “star’s child”, a reference both to her being one of the first elves born following the awakening, and the vast respect awarded by the first men to her father.

Uzbadnâtha-kandur (Khuzdul). Literally “wolf-princess”, based on her tribe being known as the Wolf-People.

[aglaecan]

talk to me about caranthir and khuzdul

let’s talk about meta, baby || accepting

aw yeah, feanorians and language, my favorite topic! i’mma write this, and intersperse it with relevant quotes from various books of HoME, yeah? yeah.

okay okay okay. so. the dwarves are known to be a secretive people, who generally did not teach their language to others, while at the same time preserving it themselves and passing it along to their children, even after, in some cases, it was no longer a native tongue but a book-learnt one. it’s also a very difficult language, even if you can get someone to teach you.

“The Dwarves were in many ways a special case. They had anancient language of their own which they prized highly; andeven when, as among the Longbeard Dwarves of the West, ithad ceased to be their native tongue and had become a ‘book-language’, it was carefully preserved and taught to all theirchildren at an early age. It thus served as a lingua francabetween all Dwarves of all kinds; but it was also a writtenlanguage used in all important histories and lore, and in record-ing any matters not intended to be read by other people. ThisKhuzdul (as they called it), partly because of their nativesecretiveness, and partly because of its inherent difficulty, wasseldom learned by those of other race.”

however, there is some canon on the fact that the secretiveness is not 100%; for one thing, Adûnaic, which itself derives from Taliska (being the language of Hador and Beor), bears a strong resemblance, in places, to Khuzdul, indicating that at some time in the past, the dwarves and early Men were close enough that their languages influenced each other.

“This gave rise to the theory (a probable one) that inthe unrecorded past some of the languages of Men - includingthe language of the dominant element in the Atani from whichAdunaic was derived - had been influenced by Khuzdul.”

and further, there’s evidence that not all the dwarves were as secretive as the others; the Longbeards seem to have been the most reclusive, but the dwarves Caranthir would have known were more likely to be the Firebeards and Broadbeams.

“…of whom the Longbeards appear to have been themost secretive and least concerned to have dealings with Elves orMen”

“Since the ancestors of the Firebeards and the Broadbeams awokein the Ered Lindon, these kindreds must be presumed to be theDwarves of Nogrod and Belegost.”

now, the canon does specifically state that only Curufin was really interested in learning Khuzdul, being the most like Fëanor himself and therefore the most linguistically-inclined. and so he’s really the main source of knowledge that the Noldor loremasters have on Khuzdul.

“His sons were too occupied in war and feuds to pay attentionto such matters, save Maglor who was a poet, and Curufin, hisfourth and favourite son to whom he gave his own name; butCurufin was most interested in the alien language of the Dwarves,being the only one of the Noldor to win their friendship. It wasfrom him that the loremasters obtained such knowledge as theycould of the Khuzdul.”

but that said, Caranthir had traffic with the dwarves of Belegost and possibly Nogrod for at least 300 or so years. traffic in which both sides found great profit, and you know what you need to do when you’re trading with people? talk to them. and, i’ll say, despite the quote above where it states Curufin was the only one of the Noldor to win the friendship of the Dwarves, there’s also this, from elsewhere in the canon (emphasis mine):

“…since those of Belegost to the north had become friends of Caranthir son of Feanor.'”

(and also the fact that Maedhros had evidently befriended Azaghâl, but that’s entirely a different post altogether.)

and one final reference…

“…Lake Hele(d)vorn nearthe Dwarf-regions in the north of Dor Caranthir [Thargelion]: itmeans “black glass”, and is probably also a translation of a Dwarf-name…”

so they know at least some isolated words of Khuzdul, because they’ve given landscape features names which are direct translations of Khuzdul names.

basically this is all a very long winded way of saying that i find it, given this body of references and canon, extremely unlikely that Caranthir, a Noldor with a background in linguistics and language acquisition and a strong and centuries-long commerce with a group of Dwarves not specifically noted to be overly secretive, would not have known Khuzdul. 

or at least some of it. fluent? unlikely; there was no reason (nor actual desire) for him to expend the effort of learning it fluently. but the basics? simple syntax and grammar, important or common words, maybe a few fancier ‘ceremonial’ or formal phrases? (cursewords?) definitely all of that. Curufin was the only one who studied it, but Caranthir would know it.

[tea2go]

Familiar Faces (Fili x Reader) [Chapter One/Part One]

Familiar Faces

The Hobbit // Fili x Reader Story

Summary: Everyone lives AU//  You are a dwarrowdam of Ered Luin that arrives at Erebor with others of your kin half a year after BOTFA. You are an ordinary dam, eager to establish your new life under the mountain. Although you of course know Fili - he is the crown prince after all - and have seen him before, you have hardly ever talked. You wouldn't have minded was it not that you had trouble keeping your eyes of him out of sudden and curiously enough Fili experiences a certain gravity towards you, that he cannot explain as your face seems of course familiar, but for some reason he had never paid you much attention before and doesn’t even know your name... Will your hearts reach one another in the newly prospering kingdom or will the obstacles of love, jealousy and the growing monarchy tear you apart?

Warnings: Fluff, Angst & talk about war/death in later chapters, slow burn

Tag list: @antlers-inallofmy-decorating​ @sweeticedtea​ @deepestfirefun​ @calicoskatts​ @jotink78​ @cracoon14​ @girl-next-door-writes @the-warriors-heart @imaginationcreationgirl

Should I have forgotten to or mistakenly tagged you, pls tell me so I can remove/add you

Note: I have already written later parts, but the beginning is so hard to come up with! “Familiar Faces” is the title until I come up with a better one! There won’t be too much of Fili in this first chapter however, be warned. Ugh, I hope you like it anyway. Feedback is appreciated! 

[Chapter One/Part One] [Chapter One/Part Two]

A Long Lost Home

It had been nearly two years since Durinsfolk had last been united with their king and loved ones, nearly two years of uncertainty and fear that those you had let go on the absolutely unreasonable and mad quest to kill a dragon might never return. And indeed, your thirteen dwarves did never return, but instead sent a raven to those they had left behind in Ered Luin , announcing that they had managed the unmanageable, had actually reclaimed your homeland.

This had been about half a year ago at the beginning of winter and though some had been mad enough to leave the Blue Mountains directly in the menace of winter, the majority had been reasonable enough to plan the journey ahead and leave the first days of spring with a decent amount of food and everything you needed to start your new life far over the misty mountains. While some, such as your parents, had decided to stay behind, pleased enough with the home they had made in Ered Luin, a great group of your people, including you,  had followed the King’s sister Lady Dis and were finally able to lay eyes upon the great mountain they called Erebor. The months on the road had not been easy, but dwarves were tough and the view you now had was worth every single step. You of course had never seen Erebor before, but even though  the gate was clearly damaged, its greatness and massiveness had you at awe, making all the tales you had grown up with fall short.

You looked over to the excited dwarrowdam beside you, smiling when you saw her eyes glisten with tears of joy. She was your uncle’s wife and just like you she hadn’t heard anything of him and his brother, beside the few letters, stating that they were alive, that had been exchanged between the battle and your departure nearly half a year ago. The fact that you would have family awaiting you at the mountain, such as that your aunt needed support on the road, played major roles in your parents advocacy of the cause, you were young and eager for adventure, so you had gladly taken the opportunity.

When the new arrivals stepped through the gates they were first welcomed by their relatives of the Iron Hills that had stood behind after the great battle to help rebuild the kingdom. The entrance hall quickly filled with those weary from the travel, but spirits were high and Lady Dis was easily keeping everything at bay.

At first there was noone of the thirteen dwarves to be seen - you gave your aunt’s hand a squeeze of encouragement - but then you saw him, Thorin Oakenshield, war hero and king under the mountain , your King, enter the hall. Although you had never gotten more than a glimpse of him before and therefore had only stories to compare him to, you were certain you had never seen anyone as kingly as him in your entire life. From what you could see from the slight distance he seemed more tattered than whole, there was a clear limp in his walk, but it still was the stride of a king.  Right behind him however, a steak of gold caught your attention. The golden mane belonged to no other than the king’s nephew Fili, who you had never really been acquainted with as well, but whose hair truly was a trademark, and you figured the person next to him to be his younger brother Kili, both of whom were beaming, though clearly war marked. From what you could tell from your position, Fili was dressed in a burgundy tunic that complimented the hue of blonde and maybe it was exactly this combination that caught your attention, but there was definitely something about the elder prince that kept your eyes glued to him, instead of to the king, in a way that had never happened to you, although you were not yet able to explain what it was.

“My kin”, Thorin’s low voice boomed over the chatter of the people, “Welcome to your new home” He spread his arms wide, his entire presence filling the room.

This caused Lady  Dis to spin around and as soon as she had laid eyes on her brother and sons, she abandoned all her things to run over and gather the three of them in a tight embrace. Only when they winced and cried out in pain for their wounds were still tender because they had barely escaped death half a year prior, she stepped back and frantically scanned their bodies for injuries, only to start scolding the three dwarves loudly - especially putting emphasis on how reckless Thorin had been to not only risk his own  life but also the lives of his nephews and that she actually ought to murder him now in return. She made such a ruckus, that the surrounding people watched with amusement how their king, although smiling, shrank under his sister’s rage. You couldn’t suppress a smile yourself when the relieved mother interrupted her shouting to shower her sons with kisses and further hugs, which they gladly returned. It was obvious how overjoyed she must have been to reunite with them after two years of peril and to witness with her own eyes that they were indeed alive.

Had it not been that you were looking for your relatives as well, you would have delightly watched the spectacle a little longer, but now reluctantly tore your eyes from the prince to let them wander through the crowd instead, seeking your family. You knew, in fact, that they were well, because that was what they had written in their letter, but you had yet to see it for yourself. Fortunately enough you soon found your aunt squealing next to you and running into her husband’s arms, while you yourself caught a glimpse of a funny hat just before you found yourself in the familiar arms of your second uncle.

“Bofur, Mahal, you are well, aren’t you?”, you exhaled once he had released you and started to scan him the way Dis had checked her sons for injuries, but you found none - except for soft lines on his face that might have once been bruises, but were now barely visible - and were instead met with the beaming smile and the oh so familiar wrinkles around his eyes.  Unnecessary to say that you were more than relieved to notice that none of your family had experienced any major loss - even your uncle Bombur, who was still embraced by your aunt, seemed to be as round as ever - except for your cousin Bifur, that is, who had in fact lost his axe. You had trouble to recognise him for not only was the weapon in his head, without which you had never known him, gone, but in contrast to the rest of the company he actually seemed… more groomed and tidy than ever before. The hair on his head seemed to be brushed, his clothes were neat and pretty and when he started speaking to you in common tongue instead of Khuzdul before hugging you, you nearly lost it.

 All in all the reunion turned out to be even merrier than expected and it took awhile for the crowd to calm down. While your uncles and cousin were easily swept off after a while to greet others, take care of the livestock and personal belongings your group had brought, and look for Bombur’s children, you volunteered to stay behind to take care of the formalities such as doing the registration soon to be initiated by Balin.

[anari3l]

Thorin’s Bride

Words: 1218

Pairing: Thorin x Human!Reader

Request:  “Hey could you do a Thorin x a human reader where everybody survives in botfa and he became the king but he also have to marry a dwarrow princess even if he loves the reader. During the cerimony he couldn't take it anymore and tell the reader that he loves her and wants to marry her instead. It's depressing and romantic at the same time I know sorry.”

Author Note: 

#1: Everybody lives AU!!! 

#2: Yay, finals are over, and this practically flowed from my fingers this afternoon! Hope you enjoy!

You took a deep breath as you stood before the large chamber doors. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, standing in front of the King’s door, a gift in your hands, the night before he was to be married to someone who wasn’t you.

Thorin had hated the prospect of marrying. And when he found out he was to marry a noble dwarrowdam instead of the human rogue who had fought alongside him and stolen his heart from the very beginning, he had argued and pled until there was nothing to be done.

Upon hearing the news of his betrothment, you had arranged for passage back home, back to Bree. You loved the dwarf with all his stubbornness and cold stares, and the entire company could see it. Everyone could in fact - you were one of Thorin’s most trusted friends alongside Dwalin and Balin. The princes, Fili and Kili, even knew their uncle was in love with you, and joked with you for weeks to try to get your spirits up again after the news of Thorin’s wedding came to light.

The doors in front of you opened and you had to bite your lip to stop it trembling. You wanted to cry. You wanted to run. You wanted to ruin the dwarrow princess’s wedding to the King Under the Mountain so much so that you had shook with your tears last night.

Thorin stood before you, and for a moment, he looked upset at you being there, and then his face softened. You were a rather petite human, so you didn’t have to crane down to look at him and he didn’t have to crane all the way back to look up to you. After a moment, he gave a warm smile. “You best be careful not to get caught, lass,” he started.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen,” you managed, a weak smile forming. “I wanted to bring you a gift,” you added, holding out the package. “A wedding present.”

Thorin took it, brow cocked as he looked back up to you. “I am sorry, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve tried … but remember --”

“I bid you goodnight, my King,” you interjected, not able to bring yourself to hear the next words out of his mouth. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

***

Twiddling your handkerchief in your hands as you stood beside Nori the next morning, you wondered what Thorin had thought of your gift. It wasn’t much, you didn’t have anything to give him that he didn’t already have, but it had been something.

A small corded braid interwoven with dried grasses to create a rather beautiful colored belt. You doubted he would wear it, today or any other day after this wedding, but you had made it yourself from scraps of leather from your broken gear, and had written a short note in the package as well.

Upon seeing Thorin, dressed in all his finest and long dark hair brushed back out of his face, your breath hitched as you noticed the belt under his overcoat. Looking down to your feet, you bunched the handkerchief against your mouth, eyes searching for the bride.

You didn’t pay attention to what was being said, but within moments, Thorin was arguing with Dis and a few of the other dwarves. The dwarrow princess stood off to the side, crying hysterically into the shoulder of one of her maids.

“What-?” you squeaked, looking down to Nori who looked just as confused.

Finally, your ears pricked at the next words.

“Yes, a human!” Thorin boomed. “If now is the only time to make you daft fools see it, then so be it! I apologize to everyone here, especially you, my dear,” he added to the princess. For a moment he bristled, looking from one friend to the other before his gaze landed on you near the back of the crowd. He breathed a short sigh before stepping away from his sister and starting out of the large chamber.

“What?” you asked more heartily as Kili and Fili stepped to your sides.

“I’ve never thought. ..” Kili started, staring after the closing doors.

“He broke the wedding,” Fili mumbled, watching the princess exit through a side door.

“A war will break out for sure,” Kili smirked.

You stood, eyes wide as you stared at the door. “Did he --? To the entire congregation?” you asked.

The princes smiled as they turned to look to you. “I believe our Uncle has a different bride in mind,” Fili murmured, nudging you forward.

It took only a handful of seconds for you to decide to stalk across the hall and exit after Thorin. Dis, Dwalin, and Balin were all standing about in the antechamber, arguing, voices loud and ranging from Khuzdul to Common and back as Thorin stood there, shoulders tense and taking in all they said.

At the sound of the door closing behind you, you felt smaller than you had ever felt before as Dis’ gaze narrowed on you.

“Before you say anything,” you started. “I never wanted to break the wedding … I wanted you to be happy.”

“How can someone be happy if they are not with the one they love?” Thorin asked as he stood behind Dis. “The rule is a stupid one, and one in which I have been refusing to partake in since the moment that dwarrowdam came into my life,” he added, forcing all gazes back to him. “If I am to marry, and find a Queen, I will choose the one woman I believe has the capacity to do so!”

A fresh blush formed on your cheeks as you bowed your head once more, tears still forming on your lashes but not falling.

Dwalin bowed his head, a smile on his features. “I believe we should … consider the circumstances, my Lady,” he started as Dis turned back to her brother.

“If you’ll all excuse me?” Thorin asked, stepping forward slightly and motioning towards you. “Tell the nobles and the others attending there will still be a wedding.”

You stood, frozen, eyes wide as you watched Dwalin, Balin, and Dis leave the room. Thorin stepped up to you, placing a tender hand on your cheek to force your gaze to his. “Is -- Are you--?” you stammered.

“Amralime,” he breathed, a broken smile lighting his features. “I have been in love with you for so long … Marry me?”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as your threw your weight into him. “A thousand times, yes, Thorin!” you smiled, nose nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You’re wearing my gift,” you murmured, voice muffled.

Thorin’s chuckle was warm and yet it sounded as if he was crying as well, hands splayed across your back. “I have a gift for you as well,” he added, pushing you out of his embrace and reaching to take a strand of hair between his fingers. You watched as he attached a silver bead to the end of a short braid near your ear, smiling widely as he stepped back to review his work.

Standing beside Thorin, hand in his, and your friends gathered around you was the best feeling in the world as you were formally introduced as husband and wife a short while later.

[thedwarrowscholar]

With all possible respect, I would be afraid to get a tattoo done in Neo Khuzdul. Because you're always evolving the vocabulary and grammar, I'd be afraid the tattoo I got today saying "I Garulf the Mighty Slew the Dreaded Fire-Wyrm" would read "I Head-Banger the Sheep Am Having Done Hemorrhoid Treatments" in ten years.... ;-)

Hello Anon,

Thank you for your comments. I think I need to clarify first that the last “major” revision done was done back in 2013/2014. Though this did make an alternative version at the time, I did not at all disregard the previous grammar or vocabulary, (which you incorrectly seem to believe happens frequently), seeing it was used as a variant named “Blue Mountain Khuzdul”. 

As such, none of that earlier version would be considered invalid or incorrect, nor a single word or phrase turned into gobbledygook. Nor were the differences between variants ever this drastic as you’ve written somewhat comically here. So, though I can somewhat understand your apprehension, it is entirely unfounded.

Furthermore, the changes that have happened over the past three years (and will happen) to the vocabulary are largely additions of new words and corrections of English, while additions or changes to grammar have become extremely rare. 

In other words, the language is pretty much set in its ways now. And if I do make grammatical changes I always make sure I create a linguistic back-door, so the previous grammar remains valid (for instance, archaic vs modern, different regional differences, retroactive additions, variants, etc…).

But for those people that don’t support (or trust) the vocabulary and grammar of my Neo-Khuzdul version, yet still wish to get a tattoo done in Dwarvish, there are obviously other options.

I suggest for instance that they head over to the page worth of original Tolkien Khuzdul and pick one of the about 84 authentic words the Professor blessed us with. Sadly you may not be able to write any of the lines you had in mind, but that I fear is the price one needs to pay for sticking to 100% authenticity, which obviously is ones good right… it’s their skin after all.

In conclusion, I am not “always” evolving the vocabulary and grammar, and am very much aware of the fact that consistency is an important factor to a language (even a conlang like this), not just for people that wish to get tattoos, but for people actively learning this language (like those brave individuals that take my classes) or are using it for their fan-fiction. 

Put frankly, folks can put on their skin what they like, all I’m doing is offering an option (at their own request  - I’m not forcing people to use my material for tattoos after all). 

But if they do opt for my version of Neo-Khuzdul, I can say with great certainty and confidence that whatever is going to be inked there (barring mistakes from the tattoo-artist) would not become inconsistent some years down the road.

And, with all possible respect, if you really want to get a tattoo done…. but are perhaps still on the fence about using dwarvish, then just don’t get one with dwarvish on it, if there is one thing you need to be 100% sure about, it’s tattoos.

Maybe those folks can get a cute unicorn or something, I personally think those look stunning too.

Ever at your service,

The Dwarrow Scholar

[avelera]

The Bagginshield Fanfic Timeline - An analysis by Avelera. This is just my opinion and no fics are named. I don’t pretend to have totally exhaustive knowledge of all Bagginshield fics, this is just my overall observations since having started shipping Bagginshield the day AUJ was released. No particular reason to share this now except it was on my mind. 

AUJ Era Bagginshield Fic: Free-for-all. Almost everything is either implication or extrapolated from The Hobbit book using movie appearances, there is no cohesive movie canon so fanfic writers are free to imagine the quest ending however they see fit. Bagginshield is a ship, but it’s simply one of many as every character is shipped with every other character (and even characters that haven’t shown up yet like Tauriel). Popular characterizations and tropes coalesce, such as dwarves using Khuzdul pet names, dwarvish hair braiding culture, Bilbo-the-Gardener, fem-Bilbo, secretly-female dwarves, and general fanon Dwarvish culture for everything from their view on gender to physiological differences from other races. Quest-retelling fic is rampant. Bilbo and Thorin when shipped together often correspond to standard yaoi tropes of Tall-Dark-Aggressive-and-Brooding and Blond-Flowerchild-Innocent-Submissive, though there are many exceptions. Since Thorin’s character is still fairly mysterious in the films, authors are often uncertain of how to voice his character by comparison and it’s not uncommon even in Bagginshield-centric fics for Thorin to spend most of the story in the background or not talking. Also, displays of affection and/or actual lengthy conversation between Thorin and Bilbo in many instances don’t occur until the climax or even the final chapter of the story. 

DOS Era Bagginshield Fic: The DoS theatrical release adds depressingly little to the Bagginshield ship compared to the AUJ Hug Scene and the various hopes and imaginings of fic writers as seen in DoS-predictive fics. Early DoS fic is less transformed and more sustained from AUJ era fics as no major disruption happens, fic writers simply continue to write in the established tradition and ongoing stories rather than change their plans dramatically. Fans look forward to BotFA which promises the book’s Mithril Shirt Scene and the Death Scene for more ship-y moments. This changes somewhat when the Extended Edition is released and we get the vouching scene from Bilbo and a few other Bagginshield moments. Tauriel is added to the mix of characters though and many Kili-centric fics change in tone as a result, as they now have to either explain why Kili isn’t with Tauriel in favor of another dwarf of choice, or the new “canonical” ship of Kili/Tauriel is added to the general mindscape. 

In the lead up to BotFA’s release, Thorin-hate reaches a fever pitch as fans extrapolating Richard’s performance and appearance onto the book canon of the Arkenstone Debacle scene have Thorin shaking Bilbo and threatening to kill him. Bagginshield shippers, based on fanon works that assume a darker characterization of Thorin, are often accused of enjoying an abusive ship despite the fact the series was not yet complete and how these book scenes would be depicted in the films was yet unknown. 

BotFA Era Bagginshield: Explosion. An influx of new Bagginshield authors sweep into the fandom, fanfic writers who previously could not “see” the ship jump enthusiastically on board. Even long-term Bagginshield writers are shocked (and immensely gratified) by the intimacy between the characters as seen in the Mithril Shirt Scene, the Death Scene and especially the entirely unanticipated Acorn Scene. Thorin’s characterization in fic dramatically softens, to the point where it’s clear if a fic was written pre- or post-BotFA just by the contrast of how aloof and forbidding Thorin is vs how emotional and soft. Thanks to the actual film depiction of the Arkenstone Debacle, where Thorin is shown as heartbroken rather than enraged by the revelation of Bilbo’s betrayal, much of the Dark Thorin characterization and abusive ship accusations lose their justifications as a completed character arc for Thorin becomes available. Quest-retelling fic becomes less common (or is simply exhausted) compared to Everyone Lives AU aftermath stories and other reimaginings.