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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 1 month

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 24

Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! <3

Summary: When two girls fell into Middle Earth, excited at the prospects of living through their all time favourite novel, they find things are not as they seem. Something is watching them, as if they're being dared to reveal their secrets. How will they survive the challenges of the journey, dealing with the darkness that follows them, alongside certain two princes who are fascinated at everything they do, and a brooding, grumpy king who begins to suspect that they aren't telling the whole truth.

Where were they from, really? They did take the rabbit hole down, after all.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 4038

Warnings: Swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 // Chapter 25 >

Part 3: Chapter 24 -

30 Different Ways To Fuel Yourself Off Of False Hope.

Kismet (Definition): A hypothetical force or personified power that determines the course of the future events. Fate, Destiny.

(Noun / Origin: Old Turkish / kis·met)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Tuesday, 26th April 2941 of the Third Age (Trewsday, 6th Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)

Waking up on the day we had spent over a year of our lives waiting for was certainly less invigorating than I assumed it to be.

A month ago I would have been practically vibrating in my seat, beaming with enthusiasm at the thought of my favourite story come-to-life happening, and that I would be able to take part in it firsthand. Now that feeling had been flung out the window, my jitters of excitement were replaced with nervous ones. Sickness and dread filling the empty pit of my stomach as my mind filled with all the ‘what ifs?’

What if they don’t let us come? What if Gandalf can’t convince them? He’s already gonna have a hard time trying to get Thorin to understand that Bilbo is – somewhat – capable of surviving and adapting to the wild.

What if they start yelling about women not being strong enough and how mad they are that Gandalf told us about a ‘secret’ mission? And I start crying because I can’t handle yelling and being rejected which will make them even MORE stubborn about not letting us come? Even if they did let us come, would Thorin sulk and hate us for months?

Oh God.

What if HE doesn’t like me?

My eyes unconsciously dragged over to the bow leant against the corner of the parlour as my thoughts drifted to him. Blurry flashes of wavy brown hair and a cheeky smile danced across my vision. I let in a deep breath, before frantically pushing the waking nightmares of all the insecurities and terrible outcomes that would possibly happen this evening into the depths at the back of my mind.

Giving my head a small shake and rolling my shoulders, I returned my sights to the piece of paper on the table in front of me. I bounced my leg erratically, spinning the quill in my hand between my fingers and staring at my looping handwriting with vigorous intent, but barely taking a word in.

About an hour ago, in order to try and take my mind of things and rid my stomach of it’s sickening feeling, I had started a checklist. A feeble attempt of a distraction to try and use the attention of my already racing mind to guess the contents of what I was bringing, rather than dwell on the probability of my year-long plans collapsing before me.

I had also spent my morning trying to find comfort, and enjoy everything the best I could, making sure to not take everything around me for granted as I had realised today could be the last official day that we enjoyed comfort. A proper bed, proper meals, a steady routine, and the reassuring bubble of safety and peace the Shire gave. The thought of leaving it all behind made me want to tear up.

Despite my distraction attempt, I found myself constantly glancing out the open window in front of me, my nerves having woken me up just before dawn, and I had sat here by candlelight long enough to watch the sun rise and the birds begin their morning call. Now the candle was extinguished, smoke wisps trailing up and out the window into the crisp spring air, the wax beginning to harden as I leant back in the wooden chair, thankful for the cushion studded onto its base.

It was still relatively early, and I figured it was only about 6am, not bothering to get up and double check the grandfather clock in the other room. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I spent the next hour extending the checklist, until Kay stumbled in, copper hair and nightgown askew, mumbling about how my shuffling had woken her up too early for her comfort. Leaning back in my seat, I watched (as another distraction attempt) Kay, whose eyes were still slightly swollen and half-glued together by sleep, as she felt around for the kettle, hanging it on its hook above the fireplace before clumsily setting some wood down and lighting it on fire with her wand.

Slumping onto one of the dining chairs, she rested her forehead in her hand, groaning with fatigue weighing on her figure.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, eyes closed as she looked ready to fall asleep again.

Turning back to the window, I lifted my feet onto the chair tucking my own nightgown over my legs as I stared out at the glowing, orange beams of the morning sun that cut through the clouds and trees. “Like 7? I haven’t checked since I got up.” I answered, hooking my chin over my knees.

“What time did you get up?” she yawned.

“Uhh,” I squinted, watching a deer drink from the river down at the bottom of the hill whilst everyone still slept. “I think it was quarter to five? I couldn’t get back to sleep cuz of today.”

“Jesus Christ.” Kay breathed as she got up and joined me at the parlour table, brushing a hand through her knotted hair. “The hell have you been doing this whole time?”

“Anything but thinking.” I sighed, seeing Kay curiously reach over and drag the piece of parchment I had been writing my checklist on towards her.

“About today?” she suggested, twisting her head to scan the words.

“About everything that could go wrong.” I groaned, leaning my head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Now why are you worrying about that?” she vocalised, pushing the paper back to me as she leant on her elbows. “The worst that could happen is that they say no, and then we – plus Gandalf – simply gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss Thorin into being a feminist and letting us come.”

Snorting in amusement, I lowered my head back down, absentmindedly scratching my fingernail against the texture of the parchment. “How’re you so calm about this?” I questioned, glancing up at a suspiciously mellow-looking Kay, despite the craziness of her fresh-out-of-bed appearance.

She shrugged. “Honestly? I think I’m disassociating so hard that my brain simply doesn’t have the capacity to conjure up anything other than the fact I’m about to meet my future husband.” She simply explained, a cheshire grin wide on her face.

“Oh Christ alive.” I agonised, leaning forward on my elbows and proceeded to drop my face into my hands. “I forgot about that.”

“And you’re about to meet yours~” she sing-songed, prodding at the hands hiding my face. I let out a strained laugh, both amusement and anxiety ridden between. “You already made some odd noises when you had to deal with meeting Gandalf, I can’t wait to see what on Earth you’ll sound like when you meet him.”

“C’mon Kay, it’s not like I’m gonna marry the guy!” I whined in anguish, dropping my head from my hands and onto the table. “I barely have a crush on someone who is technically a complete stranger who I know next to nothing about. Look at what happened with Bilbo! We’ve watched the movies hundreds of times and we never knew stuff like how he preferred fried eggs over poached until we ended up here!” I was basically sobbing my smushed face into the wood at this point.

Twisting my head so I could face Kay, I looked up at her with wide, wet eyes. “What if he turns out to be nothing like I expected or he finds me weird?” I muttered pathetically.

Within a flash, Kay had rolled up my piece of parchment, and swatted my head with an outraged expression. “Have you forgotten his apparent type?? Miss ‘5’9 potential model who’s been mistaken for an elf multiple times??’ He’s gonna walk in, take one look at you and have the fattest fucking aneurysm, because we are the hottest people in history to exist in Middle Earth.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Except for Galadriel of course. Can’t disrespect my milf wife like that.” She patted her hand over her heart and blew a kiss out the window.

Huffing a laugh, I took another glance out the open window, spotting the mail-hobbit-man as he began his morning route. “What on Earth do I even say to them all?” I almost whimpered, beginning to spiral. “What if they get weirded out about how well we remember all their names??”

“Alright, stop.” Kay emphasised with another swat at my head. “You’ve got a whole day to get through before dealing with that, so before you send us both into a mental breakdown, let’s go get ourselves ready so they don’t walk in on us looking like a hundred year-old mops.”

As soon as the words left Kay’s mouth, Bilbo stumbled in scratching his nose whilst he made use of the preboiled kettle. “Market trip today.” He declared halfway through a yawn, stretching his arms up. “Need some fish and veg for tonight’s dinner and whatnot.” Sliding into the chair beside us with a fresh cup of chamomile, he took in the morning scenery through the window with a content sigh, seeming to have completely forgotten (or forced himself to) about yesterday’s affairs. Shifting his head, he gave us both a once over. “Fancy coming?”

The sereness of Bilbo’s mood that morning had been shot into the stratosphere when the clock hit half nine. I hadn’t missed the strain that had begun to grow in the hobbit’s smile the closer he got to swinging his blue coat on, and by the time we were out the door, his face had dropped completely.

Despite his much smaller stature, we found ourselves jogging to keep up with the frantic hobbit as he practically jogged down to the market, head swivelling around like an owl as his eyes determinedly scanned everything they landed on.

Settling into a speed-walk, I sidled up next to him as he continued to scurry on, leaning down to keep my voice lower. “I doubt Gandalf’s gonna be hiding out in the market waiting to scare you, Bilbo.” I attempted to reassure, knowing full well the wizard was still off somewhere collecting our not-so-unexpected guests. “There’s no need to worry so much.”

Bilbo blinked up at me, forcing a bewildered look upon his face. “Worried?!” He scoffed, faking a chortle. “Why on Earth would I be worried? Hahaa…”

“Because you look as nervous as a mouse about to steal a crate-full of cheese right under someone’s nose.” Chimed in Kay as she caught up on Bilbo’s other side.

“Mouse–?” Was all he could sputter out in offense to being compared to the rodent before he sprung a foot in the air, startled when another hobbit called out to him, wishing a good-morning. Opening his mouth, he went to retort, but his mind seemingly ran elsewhere, and he simply spun on the spot to march over the stone bridge ahead.

Giving each other knowing looks, Kay and I trailed not so long after, mixing into the throng that was the Tuesday morning market. Kids scurried after each other with shouts and screams, looping around us until they took off in another direction.

Lifting my head, I took in the scene before me. Hobbit-men roaring with laughter as they puffed out smoke-rings under the tents and pavilions scattered around, a hobbit-woman thanking someone as she received a payment at her market stall, handing over a sack of whatever the other hobbit bought with a grin moments later. Snapshots of the everyday lives of some of the most peaceful creatures in Middle Earth, and I knew I was going to miss it.

Zoning back in, I brought my gaze further down, to where it landed on the back of Bilbo’s coat as he conversed (though rather distractedly) with one of the local fisher-hobbits, thanking him as he was handed his packaged goods – I presumed it was the fish he had spent the last 24 hours raving about not getting.

As Bilbo continued around the market, Kay and I temporarily went our separate ways, grabbing a few final things to stick in our bags. Meeting back about a quarter of an hour later, we spotted Bilbo who seemed to be trying to hurry back, eager to return to Bag End with his now-full basket of goods. Peering over his shoulder, he surveyed around until he caught our eye, and gestured for us to follow.

Jogging forwards, we hurried to catch up, only to slow down to a stop as Bilbo’s path was blocked by who we recognised to be Master Worrywort, his appearance giving a sense of Deja vu. Hauling his wheelbarrow stacked with produce, the older hobbit paused as he spotted Bilbo, his eyes lighting up.

“Hello, Mr Bilbo! Ah! And of course the lovely ladies.” He greeted us all, reaching into the pile in his wheelbarrow to pull out a very large-round vegetable that looked like a weird cross between a potato and a turnip. “Here!” He held it up in front of Bilbo. “Have a feel of me tubers.” Reluctantly, but willing to appease him, Bilbo briefly gave the vegetable a touch. Glancing up, Master Worrywort eagerly gestured it towards us. “Nice and firm they are. Just came in from West Farthing!” We both reached to politely prod and pinch at it for a moment, giving satisfied nods.

“Very impressive, Master Worrywort.” Bilbo complimented, eager to shift the conversation along. “Now, I don’t suppose you’ve seen a wizard lurking about these parts?” He asked, squinting against the sun as he gave the marketplace a once-over for the hundredth time.

Master Worrywort frowned in thought, placing the vegetable back in his barrow. “Tall fellow?” He suggested. Bilbo went to reply, when something caught his eye, his face paling as the other hobbit took no notice and carried on. “Long grey beard, pointy hat? Can’t say I have.”

Looking over my shoulder, I spotted the basket of grey wool that was being carried behind some of the stalls, my height making it easy to decipher that it was, in fact, not a wizard. Turning around, I went to assure Bilbo, only to find he had already taken off before Master Worrywort had finished speaking. The three of us scanned the area in confusion, looking for the missing hobbit.

“Where’d he go?” Wondered Master Worrywort.

Continuing to peer around for Bilbo, Kay answered. “Christ knows. He hasn’t been feeling himself lately.” She lied – though it wasn’t completely so.

Unbothered, Master Worrywort simply shrugged, before tipping his straw hat and bidding us adieu. The second he picked up the handles of his wheelbarrow to carry on, we shot off, crossing the bridge to see Bilbo step out, a dazed look on his face. Checking behind me, I saw that the basket of grey wool had revealed itself to be nothing but that.

“C’mon.” I sighed, patting the weary hobbit on the shoulder. “Take yourself back home and grab some tea and a book, then relax. Me and Kay are gonna run some errands.”

Still staring behind us, Bilbo nodded, not moving until we gave him a slight nudge, and off he went stumbling back up the hill with his basket.

Once he was in the distance and we were sure he wasn’t about to have a nervous break, the two of us spun on our heels and crossed back over the bridge, taking the path to the stables.

“You’re leaving?? Why?!”

Bertie looked up at us with wide eyes, clouded with confusion as he absorbed the news.

“We’re going travelling for a bit.” Kay offered, which technically wasn’t a lie. “Might see if we can find our families.”

He gave a slow nod. “Is Bilbo going with you?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but paused, realising that despite the future events on the horizon being very much canon, Bilbo still had free will and the right to refuse to come.

“Maybe.” I suggested. “We’ll have to see.”

“Well I hope he does!” he exclaimed, looking almost saddened at the thought of Bilbo not going. “He’s awfully fond you both, y’know.”

Blinking, I glanced at Kay, only to see her respond in a similar way.

“Right.” Stated Bertie with a clap and a rub of his hands, startling us back into focus. “If you are both going, I wish you both the best of luck.” He gave us a warm smile, which quickly morphed into a tired one. “But for the love of Yavanna, please take those… beasts with you.” He pleaded in exasperation, gesturing at Calhourn and Hecate who were munching on a hay bale in the corner of the building. The latter raised her head to fix poor Bertie with a very prominent stare, and the hobbit shifted back a few steps, grumbling and cursing under his breath as he went to prepare their saddles and the rest of their equipment.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky by the time we started to head back to Bag End, our half-explanation for leaving having been given to the stable owner, who had kindly insisted that our jobs would still be here whenever we came back. Now we were halfway there, and I was panicking when I had realised I had forgotten to do something I considered rather important.

“Ah crap!” I cried. “I still need to write the letters!”

Kay glanced over at me, brows furrowed. “Whatever are you needing to write letters for?” She questioned.

“I need to write to whoever’s going to presume Bilbo dead and try to sell out Bag End!” I exclaimed, and Kay’s brows rose in realisation. “Otherwise he’s gonna come back to one hell of a nasty surprise. Oh! And also one for Gladiola to say we’re leaving and that she’ll have to find other babysitters, and whoever is–uh-crap –”

Kay quickly grasped my shoulder, swiftly brining my stressed rambling to a halt. “Girlie you’re going to give me a heart attack with how much you’re stressing out!” She breathed. “How about, when you get back, I’ll find out whoever does the house auctions and you write the Gladiola. Then we’ll see if anyone else needs one as well.”

I nodded silently, refusing to speak anymore in case everything came out uncontrollably in front of the shrew-faced Lobelia Sackville-Baggins that was sneering up at us from her front garden when we pattered by.

Reaching the front door of Bag End, I sped ahead of Kay, eager to snatch some parchment and a quill, then ran to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Reading over then re-reading again, I double checked the letters now fully completed in front of me. Kay had slipped in earlier, sliding over a small shred of paper that had the address of the hobbit that would be auctioneering in a couple years’ time when everyone would think Bilbo to be missing and most likely dead. The other one was for Gladiola, explaining – but not giving away too much – about what was going on, apologising for the last minute notice, but pleading that no one tries to sack Bag End (‘punch the Sackville-Bagginses for us, if you must’ I had underlined boldly).

Sealing each letter with a wax seal, along with the box of little gifts and knick-knacks Kay had precured for the Greenfoot’s as part of the apology, I gathered everything up, and slipped out of my bedroom window as quietly as I could.

The evening had begun to settle in when I hurried down the hill, the sun turning the sky into a flurry of oranges and purples as I tried not to trip over any grass mounds. Minutes later, when I had reached the house of the Greenfoot’s, I peered through the small window by the door from where I was stood behind the gate. The candles were lit, but no silhouettes came into view, so I quickly twisted the handle of the letterbox, the handprints of paint we had helped the kids stamp on still yet to be tarnished by the weather, and I felt guilt creep up in the pit of my stomach.

Before I could turn any more miserable, I hissed out a curse when the lid let out a creak. Shoving the parcel and letters (I had asked Gladiola in her letter to deliver the other one) into the box, I gently eased the lid back up, thankful it hardly made a squeak. Glancing up at the window, I jumped when I spotted Gladiola, but let out a sigh of relief when I realised her back was turned.

Without a second thought, I dashed off, skipping the paths as I took a beeline straight up, resulting to crawling on all fours up the steep parts at some points. Reaching the top, I turned around, taking in one of the last views of Hobbiton beneath the final rays of the vanishing sun with a weary sigh. With a stretch of my back, I went to walk towards my window, when my eyes were drawn to a short but unusual looking shape in the distance. Squinting, I watched as it made its way through one of the paths between the crop fields near the outskirts on the other side of town.

“I know that silhouette…” I thought to myself, before my eyes widened and I let out a gasp.

Dashing round the bend to my open window, I narrowly missed a drunk hobbit as he stumbled along swigging from the flagon of wine in his hand. I practically dove through, earning myself several bruises along my arms and legs as I clumsily battered them against the furniture whilst I struggled to clamber to my feet.

Sprinting across the floorboards, I almost slipped several times as I hauled my bedroom door open and bent over to avoid the beams as I half-jogged/half-stumbled through the hallway in my woolly socks, grasping the wood lining the archway to the kitchen to skid to a stop. Though that didn’t stop me from headbutting the chandelier.

“Ah, fuck!” I cursed, rubbing at my forehead before I ducked through.

Kay was staring up at me confused from where she sat at the kitchen table, quill poised to continue scribbling away at whatever was on the parchment in front of her until I interrupted. Bilbo was across from her, bent over the stove as he prodded and flipped the fish on the pan in front of him, too used to our antics at this point to bother looking up.

“Evening jog?” Kay muttered, keeping her voice quieter than the sizzling of the cooking food as I flopped down next to her.

Chest still heaving, I turned to look at her. “Huh?” I furrowed my brows.

She gestured at my face with the quill. “You’re cheeks’re pink and your hair’s frazzled.”

Sitting back, I absentmindedly reached up to pat down my face and hair. “Went to deliver the stuff.” I breathed. “Then decided to climb up the hill and ran when I saw someone in the distance.”

Kay’s eyes widened, and she took a glance at the still distracted hobbit. Giving me a look to show she understood, she returned to her parchment when Bilbo swivelled around, taking turns picking up the three plates that already had the boiled slices of carrot and potato ready to go, along with a small bundle of herbs, to shovel a freshly fried trout onto each one.

Sliding a plate in front of the two of us, we picked up our silverware as Bilbo tightened the sash round his waist that held his dressing gown over his night-time robes. Settling down in his seat, the hobbit let out a content sigh.

He glanced up at us with a smile. “So,” He started, tucking a napkin into his collar. “What did you two get up to in town after I went home early?” He asked as he reached over to take a pinch of seasoning from the tiny wooden bowl between us.

The two of us stiffened, watching intently as Bilbo began to season his food in an all-too familiar way.

And that was when the doorbell rang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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middleearthpixie · 6 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, @i-did-not-mean-to!!

And.... we're off...

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 36

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 2,583,909 (just about everything i write tends to go novel length and when my muse cooperates, look out!)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien - The Hobbit and LOTR, and most of the characters played by Richard Armitage.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? After the Fire, More Than Meets the Eye, Brilliant Disguise, Where I Belong, In This Moment

5. Do you respond to comments? Almost always. It might take me a while, but I try to respond to every one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? That would be The River which was a short piece of about 3k words that takes place right before Thorin starts out for the Shire and the Quest to retake Erebor.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Pretty much everything else (Where I Belong is more bittersweet than flat out happy). I write romance and one of the hard and fast rules is an ending that is either happy or happy for now. And I am an absolute sucker for a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so much hate, but useless criticism (and yes, unless a writer has specifically asked for a critique, criticism is useless so save yourself the time and trouble and don't bother with it. Don't like something, don't agree with it? Write your own story how you want it. I'm not even nice about that any more.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sure. I write steamy in general, but Good Trouble, The Chance You Take, Playing with Fire, Damaged Goods, Miss Fortune, Seven Days, and Better Days are the smuttier of my fics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've written crossovers for Richard Armitage characters - Guy of Gisborne/John Porter

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I doubt my fics are good enough for anyone to steal, so I'm thinking no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I'd be very surprised if I have.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and I don't know that I'd be able to do it, either. I'm far too set in my ways and doing things the way *I* think they should be done and telling the story the way *I* see it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Thorin x OFC

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't have any. I almost never orphan a story. It might take me literally years to finish it, but it will be finished.

16. What are your writing strengths? I write fast and clean (meaning my edits/revisions are usually minimal) and judging by a lot of the comments I receive, I write very good and natural dialogue

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I sometimes have trouble slowing action down, as I usually want to get right to the meat of the story. I also can't always translate the images in my mind to the words on the page.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I write using other languages sparingly - usually just enough to give the reader a feel for the character. It's too easy to fall into linguistic stereotypes otherwise.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Marvel. Loki, specifically.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? This one is a three-way tie between More Than Meets the Eye, After the Fire, and Something in the Night, (my current WIP) because all three have heroines who are very unique - Arielle is not only trying to pass herself off as her twin brother, but she rambles when she's nervous, Jasna is a medical student who stutters, and Nina is a bounty hunter seeking revenge against a certain dwarf king. All three were and are fun to write.

And now for the no-pressure tags!

@evenstaredits @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @frosticenow @glassgulls @sunnyrosewritesstuff and anyone else who'd like to answer! :)

#writer asks #20 questions #fanfic #fiction

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eccentricmya · 7 months

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how are you so Normal about silm. Literally I am sitting here, so depressed I can’t eat, drawing Them again and again and you’re just like. Oh here I’ll vilify Maedhros. Now I’ll paint him in a nice light. Why don’t we discuss it over coffee. Like Maedhros isn’t some figure who’s emotionally and psychologically a part of your personal identity I don’t get it. How are you so cool about all this. The world is falling apart

(oh by the way I think your blog is great).

Oh thank you! 😊

You pose a great question. I was thinking just yesterday if I'm not passionate enough for the fandom lol. The answer is maybe that I've mellowed out over the years. Though I still get obsessed with new things from time to time and want to read and see everything related at once! Much like you are now, I suppose.

But why are you depressed? Because of how Silm is or is it related to your artistry? For both I would say, enjoy the process! I know it's easier to say, but truly, the best part of fandom and creation is the fun you have here away from real life. If you make yourself stressed because of it, then it stops being a comfort and becomes a burden instead- at which point, I find myself turning away from that fandom or abandoning the fic idea.

Tolkien though, is like home to me. It's nothing new or exciting like some attraction at a fair; it's the same characters, the same story, but it feels relaxing rather than boring because of the familiarity. And when you're relaxed, it is very much like sipping coffee!

Let me give you an example... in Uni, I used to chug my coffee so that I could have more of it. If I finish one cup, then I can have 3 more! And the amount of time I got to experience the taste of coffee back then was around half an hour. Nowadays, I drink just one cup, which I savour for half an hour. I'm still spending the same time on my coffee experience, but now it is in a much more healthier manner.

Fandom is like that. The characters and story we love is not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. So take your time. Take a walk with your favourite characters, instead of running after them. Let your heart decide the path you walk, instead of sticking to the already paved road. I swear you'll enjoy the journey far more this way!

As for having a crisis over our favourite blorbos? I cried buckets when Thorin and Fili and Kili died. I was so distraught that I had to wait in the parking lot of the theatre before I could ride back. It is normal to have attachment with characters, no matter how fictional they may be. But I do not think a single character can define your personality. Rather, it is your personality that gives meaning to a character you love. We're too multifaceted for it to be otherwise.

The same goes for characters. They're complex too and can have a multitude of traits that we may or may not vibe with. This is why we can have vastly different views or headcanons about them. Fiction is the realm of possibilities, we should embrace them all! And if someone else's take conflicts with mine, I can just go "oh, they're in a different universe of the multiverse; we can co-exist."

Sorry it got so long, I may have rambled off-point... your ask made me contemplative hehe. Thank you once again! Have a nice day! And remember to eat please!

#such a lovely ask #just fandom things #silmarillion #my inbox is always open if you wish to talk!

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loveacrossuniverses · 9 months

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Thorin for the ask game!

-@all4theluvoflizzy

T(each)- He would teach me metal working, how to fight, but most importantly how to speak Khuzdul, I wish Tolkien had written more about it. Neo khuzdul is cool but I just wish there was a way for me to learn it in its true form. I have also heard of the dwarves having secret True names so learning Thorin's would be amazing. Oh he could teach me to play the harp as well! I'm not sure there's anything much i could teach him tbh, he has over 100 years more life experience than me!

H(eight)- There's definitely a height difference between us! Obviously Thorin is a short king (approx. 5’2”) and I’m pretty average (like 5’6”). Honestly neither of us really think about our height difference, he’s very used to being shorter than people and it’s really nice being with someone who isn’t weird about their height (vague-posting about my irl ex lol)

O(nline)- This one kind of stumped me tbh, I can’t really imagine Thorin having much to do with social media in general, he’d probably be one of those people who barely posts and mostly uses it to message people. (obviously the company has a group chat and he has a lot of family to keep up with haha) When he did occasionally post it would probably be pictures of things he made and nice landscapes rather than selfies (he’s way too serious for that). Although alternatively I’m now imagining a world where I’m the fictional one and he has an f/o blog about me that he’s self-conscious about and terrified of people finding!

R(ainbow)- Gold is the obvious colour to associate with him i think. But more specifically i associate him with the colours he normally wears, brown and dark blue together, and black and silver like his hair. I have a scarf I bought when I was 14 because it’s the same colours as his coat!

I(mage)- This was so hard for me to choose! He's beautiful and i have so many pictures of him! But here's one of them! (it was my phone wallpaper for a long time!)

N(ostalgia)- I think his favourite memory is probably something from before the dragon came. Nothing big, just watching his siblings play together in Erebor. Or the first time he held his nephews (would be post-dragon). A rare conversation with his father and grandfather where they were just family, not royalty. A hug from his father... This was a few memories I guess, but I can’t decide which one to choose. I’m kind of sad now but it’s nice when I get to explore Thorin’s past with him.

This was really fun, I always love talking about Thorin but it's kind of hard for me to articulate how much he means to me! Thank you so much for asking <3

#f/o #fictional other #self ship #self shipping #tolkien f/o #tolkien self ship #self shipping community #thorin oakenshield #thorin #no sharing #ask game #asks #answered

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jeza-red · 2 years

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@omicheese tagged me to list fav characters from 10 things woohoo! Thank you! Let's try:)

1. Geralt Tarrant from Coldfire Trilogy. Magnificent bastard to end them all.

2. Milva from the Witcher Books. I just have feelings about this amazing womanTT So much love for the archer Queen.

3. Gilbert from Bloodborne. He was my first friend in the game and his window was a place of safety. Also, he's like, ten of my favourite character tropes rolled into one xD

4. Thorin Oakenshield from Hobbit Trilogy. The man. The legend. The perfect angsty, brave, tragic figure. Handsome too ;]

5. Predator. Each of them. Just, my boy.

6. Victoria from Blood Ties. Probably my second favourite female character. Just a cool gal, detectiving her way around vampires and the like:)

7. Probably my favourite girl in fiction is Gerda. From Snow Queen by HC Andersen. The OG of a girl protagonist to me, brave and dedicated, and following her set path.

8. Azhrarn the Lord of Darkness. The Demon Lord. The Big Ham. Beautiful. Selfish. Powerful. Move, over Lestat, you're not even close to that league.

9. James from Silent Hill. This one was a toss-up between James and Red Pyramid, but in the end James is helpless and pathetic, and forever confused. I like that in a character.

10. I was going to list Kormac from Diablo 3 as my favourite idiot, but then I remembered how much I absolutely adore the female Witch Doctor XD She's just so easygoing and unproblematic, taking things as they come and sorting them out with no struggle.

I will tag @kyuuley and @the-quiet-carrotcake and @hongvanngh :)

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eorzeanchronicler · 10 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by: @traveleorzea, thank you so much!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

43 works so far, wow!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

207,031 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm writing for my current obsession, Final Fnatasy 14 as well as working on my last fanfic for GW2 as I've long since began leaving the game behind after finishing EoD.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Gold Amidst Snow (MDZS), Inquiry (MDZS), Never Envy (MDZS), Flight (SVSSS), Dream Walker (MDZS) As you can see, I was really into MoXiang TongXiu's works in the past and while I still love them with all my heart, I've taken a break from them to enjoy other works!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yep! I try my best to reply as much as I can <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Earth Is My Body and Water Is My Blood (MDZS) because I kept it canon-compliant, which is bad for the character as she happened to be a minor villain in the story. It was interesting exploring what might have been going on and somehow recasting the light on her to be far more sympathetic than the original story portrayed her to be.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely Is That a Hat in Your Pants or Are You Just Happy to See Me? (GW2) the rediculous name and the fact it's from the POV of Rama (my love, my king, my everything) who is characteristically somewhat of a dork makes for a cute and lovely ending!

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not at all, thankfully!

9. Do you write smut?

I tried but writing it is just too hard, so I gave up lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, and I hope it stays that way.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, someone had asked to make a Russian translation of Gold Amidst Snow and I saw no reason to deny it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, I don't know how one would go about co-writing a fanfic, I never tried before, but it looks fun!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I will always melt for some good ol' Bagginshield! The Hobbit featured greatly and I blame Bilbo and Thorin for making me fond of people going from disliking each other to loving each other!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

In Sun and Rain (LOTR) mostly because I have no ideas on how to approach it and am mainly using it as a way to experiment with simpler and more slice of life type stories.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Descriptions, I can describe places and people, how things work, and how a person ticks. If it needs describing I can probably do it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, I know a character and I can trace their wants and desires but I never know how they want to speak. Their voices take a while to find and only after writing them for a while. It's a pain considering I love exploring character relationships.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love foreign language phrases in fic, it feels so natural for me, probably because I come from a background where it's usual to hear someone switch language as they go about their day. With that said, the best way I've seen it executed is by having hover translations like in the amazing @noverturemusings fanfictions!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hahaha, Transformers. It was a weird Humanoid AU where a girl isekai's into a female Starscream. Good times, good times!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hands down, it has to be Is That a Hat in Your Pants or Are You Just Happy to See Me? I had so much fun writing from Rama's POV and I like to go back and reread it when I have a bad day, it's my comfort fic!

Tagging: Well, whoever wishes to answer this really, no pressure!

#writer asks #ao3 writer #fanfic #ffxiv writing #ignore the typos #its 1 am and I think they're funny

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daethsticks · 1 year

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Chloe the way I started RACKING my brain for any tv show that you watched and ended up deep in your blog 💀💀💀

anyway it's not technically a tv series but how about the hobbit movies! you rewatching them recently made me want to rewatch

gjdhdjjdks rissa I was doing the same thing with you OKAY LETS GO

Favourite character: gosh uhhhhh, when I first got into the movies I was obsessed with Thranduil, but now I think Thorin might be my favourite. I do love all the dwarves tho

Funniest character: bombur has some small funny moments from what I remember

Best-looking character: Thorin 😮‍💨

3 favourite ships: bagginshield, barduil, and that’s it bc I couldn’t care less about kili/tauriel

Least favourite character: radagast im sorry bro is annoying

Least favourite ship: not that I have major negative feelings about it but kili/tauriel

Reason why I watch it: even though the plot is kinda meh and super bloated a lot of the character interactions are really great

Why I started watching it: okay so back in 2012 I was going to the movies with my nan. We were planning to see Les Mis but on the way I saw the poster for The Hobbit and asked if we could see that instead. After that nan and I saw the rest at the cinema together as well :)

#thank you rissa sorry I forgot about this for like 2 days #answered #divorcedmalewife #ask game

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lucigoo · 1 month

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It Was Never What It Seemed

My latest Bagginshield fic is now up.

This has een almost a years work of sweat and tears and I have @sunnyrosewritesstuff to thank for being the best cheerleader I could ever ask for.

This fic can get a bit heavy, so please do mind the tags, but this has come from deep within e ad I hope you all enjoy it.

A03 link here

Summary: It has been 8 years since Bilbo has lest stepped foot in Erebor. He needs to talk to his husband, especially as he is now about to marry another. Another who is not Bilbo.

Bilbo left and when he did he left Thorin broken hearted. Now he is to marry a Blakcklock Princess, consequences be damned.

Follow along with our favourite dwarf and hobbit as they find their way back to one another, No matter how painful the journey is.

And as always a snippet:

Bilbo waited until Anette (the same worker he had hired all those years ago to man his stall when someone who could recognise him came by and who still worked with him) came back from where she had been trying to get a closer look. They were chatting away when Bilbo asked who the new dwarves were. “Oh, their Blacklock dwarves. From the Orocarni mountains,” she eagerly answered him. Bilbo scrunched up his nose. “But those mountains are so far away from here, that’s a long way to trade,” he thought out loud. Annette laughed at Bilbo’s obliviousness. He was usually much more up to date with his gossip than this, wielding it like a weapon when he was in the market with the other traders. “Well, they aren’t here to trade,” she said with a smile. At Bilbo’s questioning noise, she continued. “Rumour has it they are here for a wedding.” Bilbo’s head spun. “Who’s wedding?” He wouldn’t believe that Thorin would make a political alliance with their boys, but that was the only reason for such a large delegation to come. A royal wedding. Bilbo closed his eyes and hoped Fili or Kili weren’t being married off. After all, surely their mother, the Princess Dis, wouldn’t allow that to happen. Annette laughed at him again. “Silly dwarf, how are you so far behind? The rumours about the King’s wedding are all everyone has been talking about for months,” she said with a smile. Bilbo felt his whole body freeze. The King’s wedding. The King couldn’t have a wedding. Thorin couldn’t marry a strange dwarf. Thorin WOULDN’T marry a strange dwarf, right? Annette looked at him, shocked at his obvious reaction. Bilbo’s face was screwed up in confusion, and if she didn’t know better, Annette would have thought in pain. “Aren’t you pleased your King has found a worthy spouse?” She asked. “Especially after all thought him craft wed for so long.” Bilbo had to snort at that. Thorin wasn’t craft wed, he was as far from craft wed as a dwarf could get. He just hadn’t met his One until he walked through a bright green door in The Shire. Those kisses, touches, looks, caresses, and more were not those of a dwarf playing around or just having a quick fumble. They were of a dwarf, madly in love after so many years of believing he would be alone until he returned to the stone. Bilbo felt his tears trickle down his cheeks as he turned away from his friend, unable to continue the conversation and not caring how rude it may look. He somehow composed himself enough to see out the last hour or so before explaining that he felt unwell and had to return home. After packing up early, he made his way home with all haste. He needed to return to Frodo and speak to him. They had things to do.

Also just because I think it is brilliant, until today and posting the completed fic, the title was "You're Still Married, Stupid Dwarf," and that baout sums Thorin up, lol.

I hope you enjoy <3

#bagginshield #bamf bilbo #my fics

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failed-version-of-both · 2 years

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Thank you for the tag, @thorin-is-a-cuddler <3 I guess sometimes it pays off to be weird online.

Relationship Status: In an open LDR. I'm European, he's US-American, it's a love story for the ages. Except we're both dirt poor and probably doomed. So yeah I'm fine :)

Favorite Colour: Green. Any. Though I've been loving pink these past few years. Everything I buy is a dusty pink, I have a pink chair and wear bubblegum pink masks. All about reclaiming that which you were alienated from because it has feminine connotations <3

Song stuck in my head: He Was a Friend of Mine by Willie Nelson (or the Willie Nelson version? Idk much about country I'm very sorry 🤠)

Last song I listened to: Tales of Dominica by Lil Nas X. ("This plastic bed don't blow up no more" what a constant mood")

Three favorite foods: Nigerian Jelof, Tteokbokki, chocolate

Last thing(s) I googled: "Tipping the Velvet" because I was trying to make sure I wasn't misremembering the plot. "How much caffeine in coffee" because I wanted to compare it to the coffee drink I had bought. Always need to anticipate the next headache.

Dream Trip: That's like asking me to pick a favourite child. I truly would like to see the world, but when I do travel, it's mostly around my own country in order to see friends. I'd like to go to Iceland and Ireland and Hawaii for the breathtaking nature. I'd like to see the Appalachians. Poland to see where my great-grandmother lived. Stockholm to practise my Swedish. I'd love to go anywhere I've never been, with time left over to revisit places I've seen before.

Tagging @carydorse, @lemomomonade, @broken-lycan if you want to <3 And if you see this and feel like it, please join! I'm really bad with names recently, including URLs, but I would love to get to know you all!

#tag game

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fizzyxcustard · 4 years

Note

@thewarriorandtheking Asks: What are your 3 favorite things about Thorin? Tag, you're it!

Mmmmm. My three favourite things would have to be his eyes, his loyalty and his sensitivity. :)

I say sensitivity, and some people may find that strange, because in some parts of the film we do see an extremely vulnerable/sensitive side to Thorin. When he overhears Elrond and Gandalf speaking about the madness in his family. His eyes in that moment; it makes me want to break down with him. When they first reach the secret door to Erebor and the sun sets. His voice breaks, “That’s what it says. Balin, what did we miss?” There is so much desperation here, and it makes Thorin so much more loveable and you want to see him be victorious on the quest.

Loyalty is a pretty obvious one, especially with Dwarves. That is what they’re known for. I think we all need to try and be like Dwarves in that regard.

His eyes. Goes without saying. They’re gorgeous. And in the words of Richard Armitage himself, “They’re the key to Thorin’s heart.” There is always so much emotion swimming in them.

#thorin oakenshield #akdogdriver #ask #3 favourite things about thorin #thorin #dwarves #the hobbit

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sweet-demiboi · 3 years

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oh my god oh my god oh my god alright so this is a 2am idea because I'm sleep deprived rn buttttt what about some thorin x male!reader who smokes. not even those medieval pipes Bilbo and Gandalf smoke, but literally just cigarettes. for some reason the reader managed to create some semblance of modern day cigarettes or cigars, and now he smokes them sometimes, mainly when he's worried or when he can't sleep, and like on their quest to win the mountain back thorin and the reader have become quite close, but after that whole troll thing happens where they get captured and shit, the reader just takes out a cigarette and tries to smoke his sorrows away.

like just some headcanons about thorin and his bf who stress smokes- literally simply ignore me if this doesn't make sense or inspire you <3

Such a lovely idea! :D

When you had agreed to go on the quest with the dwarfs you had to set priorities on what you wanted to take with you because space was limited.

Of course, you took things like replacement clothes, one or two candles, as well as matches, but you also packed a good amount of cigarettes as you were sure of being stressed out after an hilariously short amount of time.

You knew that smoking wasn't exactly the best of coping mechanisms for stress or even fear, but you couldn't help yourself. Smoking just was a quick thing to do, and it worked for you.

Not to mention that you did it quite often on this journey, but the first time was after you were at the trolls.

Dear gods, your hands were shaking from the aftershock when you prepared your cigarette and lightened it, but it became better after the first inhale of smoke.

You had searched for a quiet place a little away from the company to have some peace.

Despite this, one of the dwarfes came to look after you.

It was Thorin, who was kind of your favourite.

Over all the time you already spent on this journey you two became close, like really, really close. So close that Fili and Kili whispered about you courting each other.

You couldn't deny the tingling sensation that came when his skin brushed over yours, neither your quickening heartbeat when he looked your way.

But the best were still the talks, and you were so happy that all your admiring of each other didn't only happen from afar, because when you weren't disturbed Thorin and you definetly flirted.

Sadly, it didn't happen anything more than that although you already dreamed about kissing him and being even more close.

You breathed in another time and blew the smoke out of your lungs again, then he stood right before you.

"Am I allowed to sit down?", he asked.

"Of course", you said, "If I do not disturb you."

Thorin just smiled and took his place next to you. His look fell on your cigarette.

"I've never seen something like this. Is it a human thing?"

You shook your head "Not really. I make the cigarettes myself, but they aren't really different from a pipe."

He chuckled "Then why do you make them?"

You grinned while inhaling "Because it looks cooler."

Thorin couldn't deny that. His eyes followed your fingers, which slung elegantly around the cigarette and away from it, guiding it to your lips and away from them.

"It looks elegant.", he said and you coughed surprised.

"You think so?", you asked with a raspy voice.

He chuckled again "Yes."

You blushed a little and looked away again "I only smoke when I need to calm down."

Thorin's expressions suddenly looked worried "Well, then I'm glad that this is the first time I see you smoke on this journey."

You smiled a little "And I'm sure there will be other opportunities for you to see it again."

The dwarf took your hand wordlessly and made eye contact. You returned it excitedly because you noticed your faces coming closer to each other. Finally your lips were only one breath apart, then you kissed.

You kissed him. You kissed Thorin, the king under the mountain. And it felt good. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft. You were already moving them in unison and then you felt his hand on your right cheek. You smiled in the kiss and deepened it with your tongue, brought your own hands up in his hair.

When you parted, you both smiled at each other, never breaking eye contact "I suppose this is long overdue, (Y/N).", Thorin grinned.

You laughed and nodded "You're right."

After that you started officially courting and the others were so happy for you.

Of course, Fili and Kili were making even more jokes, but you could clearly see that they were accepting you as their uncle's boyfriend. Really, they thought Thorin would never find someone and they weren't disturbed by you being a human, nobody of the company was.

Your smoking continued, and Thorin's attraction to you built whenever you did it, but you supposed you would smoke even more if Thorin wasn't by your side.

Please, don't smoke when you are under 18 or 21 (depends on the laws in your country) and it's best when you don't do it at all :)

#gay thorin oakenshield #gay #pansexual #bi #lgbt #thorin oakenshield x male!reader #thorin oakenshield x male reader #the hobbit x male!reader #the hobbit x male reader #bisexual #queer

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 1 month

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 23

WELCOME TO PART 3!! AHHHH I'm so excited that we've finally reached the actual hobbit storyline. It's been almost 3 months since I uploaded the last chapter, but I've made it worth it by returning with a double chapter package, so I hope you're around this weekend for when I post chapter 24! Enjoy! <3

Where were they from, really? They did take the rabbit hole down, after all.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 4542

Warnings: Swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 >

Part 3: Chapter 23 -

The Shaquille O’Neal of Improvisation.

Oneirataxia (Definition): The inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

(Noun / Origin: Derived from the Greek word 'oneiros', meaning dream and 'taxis' meaning arrangement / one-er-tax-ea)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 25th April 2941 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)

Our eyes widened, a silence falling over the both of us as we stilled. Staring at each other, we remained frozen like statues, listening for the words we had been desperately anticipating for the past 19 months.

And just like that, our prayers were answered.

“What do you mean?” Grumbled an oh-so familiar voice, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” The two of us practically scrambled onto our hands and knees, hovering our ears near the bush to catch every word. “Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning, or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

I leant up on my knees, ignoring the sharp sting of a random thistle that Bilbo had forgotten to meticulously weed out. Grasping Kay’s shoulder, I held my breath, preparing for what was about to be revealed in front of us. Something we had been waiting an eternity for.

Slowly raising my head, my eyes immediately locked onto the tip of a pointy, grey hat, and I felt my heart drop to my stomach in nerves and excitement as I rose up further, the hat entering my view inch by inch until it revealed the person wearing it beneath.

Kay grasped my wrist that was still latched onto her shoulder, and I felt myself practically shaking as Gandalf the Grey himself finally came into view. I was almost back in my living room, watching the original scene play out, the shot from the TV coincidentally lining up with the view that was in front of me.

My eyes darted between Bilbo and the tall wizard in front of him, and I felt a tiny bit of relief at the sight of someone taller than me for once. But that didn’t last much longer as the initial shock silenced my spinning mind, taking in the two once-fictional characters with rigorous intensity. Kay and I refused to budge an inch, determined to catch and absorb every second of this moment and keep it seared into our minds for the rest of eternity.

Eyes as wide as owls, our gazes flicked to Bilbo as he squinted up at Gandalf.

“All of them at once, I suppose?” he muttered, waving his wooden pipe around slightly to emphasise.

At this point I could practically hear the soundtrack, the happy Shire tune shifting to one of uncertainty. Gandalf’s expression morphed slightly as he grasped his staff with both hands. Furrowing his brows at the hobbit, he regarded him with a disapproving look, a grumbling hum of unsatisfaction escaping his throat as Bilbo continued to stare up at him in bewilderment.

A moment of silence passed as the two continued their glaring contest, until Bilbo’s usual lack of patience for odd manners got the better of him and broke the quiet.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” He sputtered out, blinking profusely as if that would help him grasp the situation.

Gandalf’s expression and stance hardly changed as he replied. “That remains to be seen.” He half-muttered, his cryptic wording confusing the poor hobbit further. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” He explained slowly, and we waited patiently for Bilbo’s reply. That was, until Gandalf’s piercing eyes snapped over to where our heads were peeking over the bush, sending a jolt up our spines. “And it’s been rather difficult to find anyone.” He exclaimed, voice raising slightly, almost causing us to cower.

Bilbo continued to squint up at Gandalf, his pipe dropping from his half-open mouth as his brain caught up with what was said. Soon enough, he noticed Gandalf’s gaze had wandered elsewhere, and he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on us. “An – an adventure?” He guffawed, turning back to Gandalf, and his toned shifted to a rather snarky one. “Now, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures.” Desperate to do something that would get himself further from the wizard and closer to us, he stood up from the bench and stepped over to the letterbox. “Nasty, disturbing –” He reached inside, grasping the letters. “– uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them.” He exclaimed before shoving his pipe between his teeth, absentmindedly sorting through the letters and envelopes in his hands as he made some odd noises to try and convince the wizard his interests were elsewhere. He spared Gandalf a brief glance – though it was more of a glare – and noticed the wizard’s eyes were still on us, observing without saying a word. Stepping in front in an attempt to block his view, Bilbo stuck his thumb behind his braces, opened his mouth to continue, but hesitated, instead giving a curt “Good morning.”, and quickly turned towards the door, where he motioned stiffly with his arm for us to follow suit.

Kay and I glanced hesitantly at each other, before rising to our full heights. I found myself unable to move, continuing to stare at the robed figure stood tall at the tiny gate as he returned it with his own scrutinising and wholly unsettling gaze. Though it barely lasted a second as his gaze shifted to one of frustration as he looked over at Bilbo’s retreating figure.

“To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son,” he called out, raising his voice. “as if I were selling buttons at the door.”

Bilbo’s head swivelled round, his body following not long after with a startled look upon his face. “Beg your pardon?” he sputtered.

Gandalf let out a huff, switching his staff to rest in one hand as he spoke. “You’ve changed,” he breathed, a reprimanding tone of disappointment underlining his words. “and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed, leaning forward slightly as he seemed to properly take in the wizard’s appearance for the first time. “I’m sorry do I know you?”

I felt quite awkward, standing by the door fiddling with my hands whilst witnessing the exchange, watching with bated breath as Bilbo desperately tried to end the conversation, then also for one to say something that would set the other off. And if my guesses were correct, that was going to happen relatively soon.

At this point Gandalf’s demeanour had shifted from quiet, obvious frustration to one of exasperated amusement. “ Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf!” He practically cried. “And Gandalf means…” he gave the hobbit a small but endearing smile. “..me!”

Recognition flashed across Bilbo’s face as his eyes flickered over the tall wizard, and a smile slowly grew on his face. “Not… Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks! I remember those! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” He emphasised with a few friendly jabs of his finger. “Hah! Old Took used to have them on Mid-Summer’s Eve!”

From where he was stood almost next to me, I watched as he paused, looking Gandalf up and down. Realising what he was about to say next, I side-eyed him with a warning glare, but he took no notice, his attention far too fixated on the wizard.

“I had no idea you were still in business.” He regarded with a frown, and I let out a small sigh of disappointment. Looking off into the distance for a moment to spare myself the second-hand embarrassment of the exchange to come, I glanced back at Gandalf, only to find he had been staring at me the whole time. My eyes widened, and I suddenly found the grass under my feet extremely interesting.

Feeling the burning intensity of Gandalf’s eyes shift elsewhere, I looked back up to find him giving Bilbo a rather scathing look. “And where else should I be?” He demanded, giving the hobbit a small fright with his tone.

Bilbo stiffened. “Well…” he sputtered, blabbering a few more half-words as he gestured around him with his pipe awkwardly, eyes wide. Trailing off, he decided to instead stuff the pipe back in his mouth, finishing his sheepish parade of sounds with a loud clearing of his throat, taking a deep heave from the smoke.

“Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me,” Gandalf regarded with another sigh. “even if it’s only my fireworks.” His expression shifted as swiftly as he passed his staff between his hands. “Well then, that’s decided. It will be very good for you all!” he exclaimed with a grin, wagging his finger at us and the rapidly paling hobbit. “And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” He concluded with a small, amused bow of his head.

“Wait, us-?!” I exclaimed, almost stepping forwards in shock.

“– Inform the who? What? No! No, no!” Bilbo interrupted my sudden exclamation, storming back up the steps to the circular door. “We do not want any adventures here, thank you!” he cried, jabbing at the ground with a thunderous look. “Not today! I suggest you try somewhere over the hill, or across the water!” He continued, waving his finger in every direction that would take the old man far away from his home. Grasping the golden door knob, he swung around, about to yell something else, before deciding to end his tirade early. “Good morning!” He half-cried, and he stormed into the house.

Apart from the usual sounds of the birds and rustling leaves, silence blanketed the front steps of Bag End. Kay and I were leaning forwards slightly, having bent over to watch the hobbit storm through the doorway. However, the noise of someone clearing their throat had the two of us shooting up, straightening our backs as we turned to the wizard still stood expectantly by the gate.

“And here I was wondering about the day I would come across the two of you.” He proclaimed, settling where he stood as he finally spoke to us.

As if waking from a trance, I let out a loud “HUH?”. All Kay could do was lightly whack me on the shoulder as Gandalf blinked in surprise.

“Though…” he trailed off, flickering his grey-blue eyes between us. “You are not entirely what I expected.”

It was Kay’s turn to act confused as she made an odd noise in the back of her throat, and Gandalf swiftly went to reply.

“You look at me as if I am as familiar as an old cousin, yet I only recognise you by your faces alone.” He began, changing the subject. We only got more confused.

“Have you seen us walking around or something?” I blurted whilst my face scrunched in bafflement. Unconsciously, I took a glance around, as if I was about to spot a hiding place that the wizard could have sprung out of.

“No, no.” He chortled, taking his time to admire the scenery around him with a fond eye. “I haven’t been here in quite some time, I’m afraid. But it seems you both have certainly settled in.” He gestured up and down at us. “The last time I experienced a dream where you were present, you were wearing some awfully odd clothes.” We both glanced with wide eyes at each other, and Gandalf raised a brow. “Sometimes you were here, other times in a very strange place – otherworldly, in my opinion.”

All I could do was stare. There was a weird mix of emotions floating around inside me – a mixture of shock, excitement and suspicion. The latter not so much, because this was Gandalf we were talking about here. Except for the dream part, that weirded me out a little. In the end I barely managed a small shrug. I was at a loss for words.

Though that was broken when Kay piped up next to me. “… Youuu could say that.” She replied with a few light nods. Suddenly her face contorted to one of alarm. “Wait, you dreamt about us?!?!”

At this reveal, Gandalf narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here? If I may ask.” He interrogated firmly, avoiding Kay’s question.

I took a moment to consider my next words – and figured only the truth was the best way. “…Honestly? We could ask you the same thing.” I answered, albeit the nervousness in my voice was quite prominent as I wondering if I had done the right thing. “We didn’t really have a choice, nor did we know this would happen. We just, you know, appeared out the blue from the sky.”

“Out of the blue?” Gandalf repeated amusedly, then glanced up at the cerulean sky. “Quite literally, I take it.” He hummed, and gestured to the door with his staff. “Does he know?”

“He does.” I replied, nodding firmly. “We figured it would be a bit unfair hiding things from the one person who kept us alive and has looked after us this whole time. We kinda owe him our lives.”

Nodding with a low hum, Gandalf seemed satisfied. “And what do you know?”

That caught us off guard.

“What do you mean?” Kay questioned, puzzled but wary.

He tilted his head as he looked at us. “You know who I am, despite us having never met in person. And I am yet to reveal what this journey entails, yet you seem calm and I dare say prepared for this. And along with the vague visions that were conjured as I dreamt, I am therefore led to believe,” He levelled us with a look. “that you may know more than you let on.”

My mouth bobbed open and shut, not to similar to a fish as I absorbed the reality of Gandalf’s statement. ‘He knows.’ Was all my mind managed to conjure. ‘Of course he knows, he’s Gandalf, for Christ’s sake!’

Blinking, a moment passed as I attempted to get a word out, until my throat decided to conjure the oddest sounds as I tried to put together the words. “Mmmmmmmnnyyeeeaaaaahummmhaaawwww-HURK!!!” Kay had elbowed me in the ribs – hard.

“The answer isn’t hum and haw, though we may have an overall idea.” Kay stated as I keeled over with a groan. “But we can’t say much without our throats literally closing up.”

Gandalf squinted at her, his free hand reaching up to absentmindedly stroke at his beard. “You cannot say a word?”

“Barely.” I wheezed with a cough, attempting to straighten up despite the protests of my now-sore ribs. “I mean, we’ve managed to say a few things, but most of the time we can say it as long as we don’t think about it too much – if we prepare to tell anyone, it seems to alert something that doesn’t want us saying anything that might change things. But it’s really random and hard to explain without it sounding like there’s a thousand plot holes.” My mouth was moving a mile a minute as the words tumbled out.

At this point I was practically ready to tell Gandalf everything, the words explaining my theories having been ready to spill out of my mouth for months.

“We keep seeing things.” I carried on without a thought, almost relieved at the fact that I could tell someone who had the ability to possibly understand whatever the hell we were saying. “Getting chased by weird creatures, I threw a pillow at a literal shadow creature – that’s appearing more often than not lately – an-and I just want to know what’s going on.” I pleaded, shoulders slumped as I felt the exhaustion of dealing with the last year and a half’s events catch up with me.

The wizard stared. “Intriguing.” He muttered. “You truly haven’t got a clue?”

“No!” I groaned, the frustration of everything flowing over. “And we want to find out why.”

He continued to stroke his beard with a low grumble. “I must say, this is something I cannot leave behind.” He stated, seemingly almost speaking to himself. “But whether I’ll be allowed to take you both with me to figure out why, is an answer we must leave until tomorrow.” He explained with a pointed look, that I thought I somewhat understood.

From deep within Bag End, Kay and I heard our names echo throughout, reaching our ears to the still-open front door. Cringing slightly, we both looked inside at the sound of footsteps drawing closer.

“Well I must be off.” Gandalf announced, and we turned back to watch him readjust the front top of his robe slightly, before gripping his staff. “We’ll see what happens soon enough.” He suggested cryptically, before Bilbo’s frustrated face appeared at the other end of the hallway.

Desperate, I quickly spun towards the wizard. “Can we come?” I breathed, the words escaping quicker than I could think. “We’re not useless despite what they’ll think! There’s a lot we could bring to the table if you just give us a chance?” I pleaded.

Hissing our names, the hobbit strode forward, grasping the door as he hurriedly beckoned us in whilst regarding the wizard with a wary but thunderous look. The wizard paid him no mind, deeply furrowing his brows as he regarded my words with a suspicious glint in his eye.

“We shall see.” Was all I got in response before a raging hobbit seethed my name, Kay already having retreated to his side.

Seeing that this was a battle that wasn’t going to be won, I reluctantly followed, disappointedly glancing at Gandalf before turning our backs. Bilbo called out about the wizard coming for dinner some other time – the two of us figured he was barely aware that he was doing so, and with that, the green door swiftly slammed shut. Bilbo fumbled with the bolt as he slid it into place with a snap. Finally achieving so, he turned to rest his back against the wood, eyes closing with a relieved sigh whilst he leant his head back.

A moment of silence passed, the hobbit settling as he seemed to be in the clear, until a muffled scraping noise near his feet filled the quiet hallway. Moment disturbed, Bilbo’s eyes immediately snapped back open, the tenseness straightening his spine once again. He jerked away from the door, almost like he had been prodded with a hot iron, as he stared down at the source of the jarring noise.

Ears wiggling slightly, he leant over, his back to us, before he shot back up with a furious glimmer morphing over his features. Storming over to the small circular window to the right of the door, he stood up on his toes, peering through the panes to try and catch a glimpse of the assailant.

He got his answer soon enough, when the silhouette of Gandalf sprang into view, casting a shadow into the hobbit hole. Stumbling back in surprise, Bilbo was caught in the arms of Kay before he would send himself sprawling onto the floor. All three of us stared at the window, a hush washing over us as we peered at the distorted image of Gandalf’s face as his gaze glowered through the glass. His eye twitched once, and with a flurry of robes, he vanished from view.

Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo dashed into the parlour over to the larger window, the two of us following suit, bending over to squish our heads together as we all tried to peer out at the wizards retreating back. His humming flowed through the air as he leant down to swing the miniature gate open, strolling down the path with a happy tune, until the edge of his cloak and the point of his hat disappeared round the bend.

I backed up until the ceiling was high enough, and stood to my full height, the events of the last five minutes hitting me full force as I stared blankly at the chandelier hanging in front of my face. Kay was the same, and we watched as Bilbo stared at the windowsill, scrunch his nose up with a loud sniff, then storm off into the kitchen without a word.

As soon as he disappeared, I practically deflated. With a roll of her shoulders and a few clicks of her back, Kay shuffled over to the armchairs that sat by the unlit fireplace, flopping down on it with a loud huff.

“I think I need to lie down.” She half muttered with a groan, barely glancing up at me as I collapsed on the chair opposite. “I cant believe we just met Gandalf.”

Nodding, I remained silent, staring at the small fraying threads of the rug beneath my feet as my mind raced through what just happened. I felt Kay’s eyes on me at my lack of an answer.

“What is it?” She questioned, and I figured she had seen my face cringing at the floor.

Glancing up at her, my eyes filled with worry. “Do you think he heard those weird noises I made?” I asked apprehensively.

She deadpanned. “Yes.” She stated. “I’m pretty sure the most prominent thing he’ll remember from our first meeting is you attempting to sound like every animal on Old McDonald’s farm.”

I groaned loudly, my whole body cringing as I brought my knees up, shoving my face into them as I slapped at my head.

“I mean, you could always Obliviate him once you learn how to?” She offered jokingly.

“I can’t do thatttt.” I whined, voice muffled as I shoved my face further into my knees, not caring if the pressure would leave my face red for the next few minutes. “What if the Middle Earth equivalent of Jesus appears and puts me in Jesus-prison for accidentally completely wiping the memories of one of their mini-gods??”

Kay huffed, unable to contain her laughter as she chucked a cushion at me, the object bouncing off the top of my head as I raised it, watching the projectile ricochet onto the floor.

Hair ruffled and sticking about after being assaulted by the cushion, I squinted with bleary eyes at Kay as weird shapes danced in my vision after being pressed to the bones of my knees. A thought came to mind, and I opened my mouth, before the thuds of large feet sounded through the wooden floor, Bilbo storming through the archway from the kitchen not a moment later.

“…nd what on Earth did I ask him to tea for!” he muttered to himself as he stared at the floor, flushed cheeks puffed out slightly as he chowed down on a seed-cake. Stopping in the middle of the room in front of us, he scoured the room, not acknowledging us in the slightest as he twisted and turned on the spot.

Darting his eyes across our forms, he flinched slightly as he seemed to only then notice our presence, before continuing on his search.

“You haven’t seen my Engagement Tablet anywhere, have you?” He asked, headspace still elsewhere as he marched into the entrance hall. “I need to write everything down before I forget.”

“Can’t you just use the calendar?” I called out, leaning over the arm of my chair as I tried to spot the hobbit behind me. My eyes landed on him, observing as he stopped in his tracks to swivel towards the calendar we had him nail to the wall when we had found it just this morning.

He flailed a bit, raising his arm up and down whilst pointing a finger at it, scanning the paper rapidly before shaking his head distractedly. “No, no.” He muttered, turning away to stride back into the parlour whilst taking another ferocious bite out of the seedcake. “All plans are on my tablet, I need my tablet.” He rambled to himself as he entered the kitchen. Coming to a stop in front of the straw basket that he was yet to empty, he let out a grunt. “Oh, for Yavanna’s sake I forgot the fish! Forget it I’ll go tomorrow. My head’s far too full to run into that damned wizard again.”

Once again, Bilbo frantically disappeared as he ranted to himself, going further this time – presumably to his bedroom, where the sounds of rustling, thuds of things being dropped and drawers being pulled open vibrated through the walls, along with frustrated complaints about Gandalf thrown about as he continued his search.

Kay and I looked at each other, and a moment passed between us, before we scrambled to our feet. Stumbling into the middle of the room, I tried not to trip over the cushion that still laid on the floor. Facing Kay, we both nodded at each other, and swiftly vanished to our respective bedrooms.

Swinging the door shut behind me, I grabbed the last few remains of my belongings that I had left out as to not rouse any suspicion from Bilbo as to why it looked like we were spontaneously moving out. Hauling out the large backpack that I had shoved to the back of my wardrobe, I swung it onto the floor, unclasped the straps and lifted the lid open, loosening the leather drawstring holding the opening together wide enough for me to fit down the steps that looked like they led into the floor.

Once fully opened, I clambered to my feet, and began pulling the clothes the bag had been hidden behind from the hangers, their wooden edges clattering against the back panel of the wardrobe they swung against as I speedily pulled each piece from them, before chucking it all into the awaiting entrance of my bag.

After hearing the thump of the final piece hit the bottom of the steps, I proceeded to scour my room, pulling open drawers and using my wand to light up the underneath of any furniture that something could have rolled or been stored under.

Satisfied that everything had been packed, I climbed down into the bag, hopping over the pile of clothes and random objects that had been thrown on top. The next thirty minutes was spent reorganising, making sure everything had its place.

Just as I was about to hang up the last skirt I had laying around, I jumped slightly at the sound of my name being called. Peering out of the tiny hallway leading to the two tiny rooms, I looked up to see Kay, who signalled with a thumbs-up that she was done and ready.

Giving everything a once-over, I returned the thumbs-up with my own, and held my hands out, catching the bag she chucked down, storing it in the corner of the main room for tomorrow.

Clambering up the ladder and out onto the floor, I sealed my own bag back up, before shoving it back into the corner of my now-barren wardrobe. With a final scan, I turned to Kay, and let out a breath as I gave her a nod. We were ready for tomorrow.

And honestly? I was fucking terrified.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Text

Birthday smut

Being the sad sack I am, I've written myself some birthday smut...

If you care for soppy pornography, be my guest :D I shall not tag anyone because it's really quite idiotic...

The important part of this though is the amazing drawing @pistachiozombie has made for me <3

So, without further ado:

Words: 3,9 k

Characters: Ori x OC

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, virgin kink, masturbation, unprotected intercourse, nature sex...a list of all my kinks basically :D

“This is very much unlike you”, Thorin gasped when he heard that Ori – the sweet-tempered scribe of all people – objected to the young woman who had presented herself at the doors of Erebor a few weeks ago.

The king himself was still mending and not in the mood to send away dams when they offered to join a colony in shambles willingly; soon enough, they’d need every female dwarf they could convince to stay within the dilapidated halls of his forefathers.

Ori bit down on the flurry of angry words bubbling up from the tormented depths of his heart; Thorin was right, and it was not like him to be ungracious or unwelcoming to anyone, but that young dam – come from the far East of the world – made him nervous in ways he’d rather not question any further.

Ever since she had appeared – black hair braided in a strange and enchanting fashion – he had not been able to stop thinking about her or the way everything about her made him feel like wool compared to silk, like rocks compared to gems, like dirt compared to water; he almost hated her for the way he yearned to touch her.

This was another thing that didn’t sound in the least like the usually so pleasant and equanimous nature of his; unlike his friends and – at occasions – his brothers, he was rarely flustered by dams as the mutual disinterest didn’t give him any grounds for discontent or dismay.

Miko was different in every possible way though, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than those dark, unfathomable eyes that had sparkled with genuine interest upon witnessing how the sunlight played on his hair as he walked ahead of her into the mountain that apparently was to be her home from now on.

“Well, as we’re on the subject of our unusual guest,” Thorin went on, “she’s gone out and hasn’t come back yet. Would you mind checking on her?”

Ori frowned; in an attempt to avoid Miko – who spent too much time in his favourite spots – he had volunteered to take some of the patrolling shifts outside the mountain, and now, he had to go seek out the very person he was fleeing from.

“Ori?” Thorin mirrored his frown; by now, the king was seriously worried about the young scribe for Ori was known to be kind and welcoming and it struck him as very odd indeed that he’d be the one to reject a young lady who had been nothing but pleasant to him.

Thorin knew for a fact that Miko was extraordinarily fond of Ori, and it made him somewhat sad to know that the affection was not returned; personally, he thought that she was a lovely dam: well-bred, cultured, and brave.

“Yes, sure,” Ori replied sombrely.

“There’s no need to be so morose,” Thorin chided him, “I do not know what your problem with her is; has she offended you in any way?”

“No,” Ori sighed; clearly, Miko had been nothing but kind to him and – with every warm smile she had given him – that torturously painful fire that had crawled under his skin had but spread until it had consumed every part of him.

Miko sighed; it was ridiculous to abide by such superstitious rituals, but she couldn’t help her own desperation.

Plunging her hands into the cold water of the small stream – hidden by a ledge of rocks – she prayed to the spirits of river and stone to mellow the young scribe’s heart so that he may find it in himself to meet her eye.

She had started to feel like a common thief, stalking around his favourite haunts in hopes of catching his gaze and being blessed with one of those radiant smiles he seemed to grace everyone but her with.

Something about her seemed deeply repellent to him; every time his luminous eyes alighted on her, storm clouds gathered in them, and his mouth froze into a tight, disapproving line.

“They will not like you,” her mother had said, “they will shun you; you are a lady not a warrior, what use would a foreign king have for you?”

And yet, Miko had been unable to sit in the cage of her parents’ making when the call for help had reached her house and so, she had left in hopes to find a better life in the halls of Erebor.

Maybe, her mother had been right, she thought as she discarded the silken layers of garments that barely protected her from the cutting wind to plunge her whole body into the icy water; no blessing could be achieved by prayer alone, one had to sacrifice one’s comfort to show how much one was willing to give in order to get.

She would sit and shiver to attract goodwill by being resolute and patient in the face of adversity; Miko knew that she was not without charms, and so she fervently prayed that Ori might discover them and find enough pleasure in doing so to gift her a single soft smile.

“Mahal have mercy,” Ori cursed under his breath as he followed the sound of low humming.

His fingers dug into the cold rock that was – fortunately – hiding his fall from grace from those all-seeing eyes that shone like amber and gold in the torch light and beckoned with the silken darkness of night in the shadows.

He had found her – completely naked – kneeling in the stream and muttering invocations in a language he could not understand.

Should he call out to her?

The gently thrumming discomfort that had haunted him since her arrival was fanned into a roaring blaze of searing pain within a heartbeat or two and – without giving it any conscious thought – his hands wandered down the pantaloon-like trousers he was wearing to counteract the sudden pressure by soothing strokes such as one would rub one’s temples to dispel a headache.

Biting down on the groan of desperate eagerness and abject shame, Ori retreated a few steps until he could lean against one of the sparse trees cropping up here and there throughout the landscape; so much for keeping an eye out for roaming orc-bands and other dangers.

The picture of Miko, her face bent over the water as over a mirror, sitting there while the water caressed her naked skin with cold, keen fingers wouldn’t fade no matter how much he tried to supplant it with visions of the sad vegetation surrounding him; she had overtaken his whole consciousness and his want ran havoc within his mind to the exclusion of any rational or salvaging thought.

With an almost reluctant sigh, he sank down on the nest of tangled roots at the base of the tree and tugged that viciously pulsating member of his rather carelessly out of his pants; it seemed very obvious to him that not all things growing and thriving were healthy indeed.

This despicable lust driving him half-insane as much as his obsession with the woman herself were ever mounting and escalating, and – no matter how much he tried to trim the buds or poison the roots – they were slung like ivy around his heart and mind.

Miko – without being aware of it – was slowly but surely throttling him, and he found himself giving in to increasingly dangerous and shameful instincts…like touching himself out in the open, within a stone’s throw of her naked – but oblivious – beauty.

It was not her he hated, Ori realised as his hand started moving sloppily, it was himself; he was filled to the brim with self-loathing and hunger, cycling rapidly until they spun out of control and swallowed the whole world in the process.

There had been too much of this lately, too many sleepless nights tossing and turning while his mind tortured him with recollections of every look and smile Miko had given him, too many instances of him excusing himself to release that pressure that would otherwise blow his skull to pieces, and he was tired of it.

Despite his best efforts, his own panting sighs melted into the soft gurgling of the stream just ahead as his grip tightened and his jaw slackened in expectation of that short and rarely rewarding release.

He would not go back to the stream; he would wait here and pretend to just happen upon her. Maybe, he would even chastise her for worrying Thorin by being away for so long.

The mere thought of her wide-eyed guilt and her trembling lower lip drew a low grunt out of him and his hand picked up speed.

“Listen,” the river seemed to whisper as Miko waded back to the shore slowly, her legs numbed by the cold water and her heart heavy with sadness.

There was a sigh dancing on the wind that spoke of yearning and of something deeper and darker yet.

Picking up her clothes, she stepped forward carefully as if tethered to the breathy sound she was following mindlessly; somehow, she was convinced that it might provide her with the answers she was so desperately searching for.

As she rounded a large tree – majestic in its proud age – she found herself rooted in amazement just beside it though as if – akin to a mystical plant spirit – she had turned into a shrub herself out of sheer shock.

She knew of course what he was doing – she had grown up with brothers and friends – but hitherto she had firmly believed that this was a thing reserved for private places, and – as far as she knew – the middle of a sparse wood was hardly that.

“Can you be helped somehow?” she asked softly and couldn’t suppress a small giggle when his eyes flew open at the same time as he gasped in alarm.

“Mistress Miko, I…” Ori stammered; she was still naked, her clothes hanging limply from her long, elegant fingers as she looked down at him in mild amusement.

“Let me repeat,” Miko asked calmly, “is there any way I can be of service?”

How she wanted him to say ‘yes’ and how she dreaded that the heart-achingly sweet expression of amazement and embarrassment on his face would harden into the mask of stern disapproval she was usually met with.

She would have done anything in her power to prolong that single moment of goodwill some obscure magic had procured.

Ori was mortified; even if he was to reject her offer and walk straight ahead until he tumbled off the edge of the world so his shame would die with his body, he couldn’t deny that in this very moment – while he still sat as if nailed to the tree, squirming under her patient gaze – the mere sight of her made his cock twitch and leak.

“I am sorry,” he stammered.

“Why? It has nothing to do with me,” Miko replied easily, but the change in his face perplexed her to the point where she wanted to make sure, “or does it?”

Finally remembering how to avert his gaze, Ori did just that to outrun the intensity of her burning eyes.

Unfortunately, his stubborn refusal to either look at her again or give her an answer pushed Miko to kneel down between his thighs – head cocked inquisitively – to ferret out a reaction.

“My brothers say,” she tried to initiate a conversation, loath to let him retreat into his shell again after having gotten a glimpse of that beautiful vulnerability she so coveted, “that people and situations give them…feelings; they claim that doing this,” she gestured to his crotch, “makes the feelings more manageable.”

She had no idea why she was telling him all this, surely, he’d know better than her.

“They are right,” Ori grumbled, “even if it only works for a little while.”

“Maybe,” Miko supplied helpfully, “you’ll have to do that more often then? Are you weary of it? My offer still stands.”

For a moment, Ori gnawed on his lower lip silently; he knew that agreeing to this would be wrong in every imaginable way. She was unmarried and – even though she seemed to have a general understanding of the matter – he was not sure if she understood what rules she’d break and what lines she’d cross if she was to touch him in that manner.

When her hand – cool and slightly wet still – closed around his own ever so lightly, a choked groan escaped his tight throat.

“It’s alright,” Miko soothed him, “let me help!”

She had massaged a good many limbs in her time – having taken care of elderly relatives since her earliest childhood – and she imagined that this would be no different; taking out the vial of oil she used to keep her skin from cracking in the inclement climate, she rubbed some of it between her palms until both her hands and the silky liquid were warm enough to not give him a jolt.

“I had not imagined it like that,” Miko mused as she closed her fingers around the solid warmth swaying slightly in front of her, “it’s strangely pretty.”

All this time, he had been holding up his tunic awkwardly, but as she took him in hand, he seemed electrified back into the real world and hastily shrugged out of his woollen coat to drape it around her shoulders.

Miko sighed, her warm breath ghosting across the swollen, weeping head of his cock, at this first act of kindness ever received from him.

If this was what it took to mellow his reservations, she would caress and even kiss every inch of him if only he’d let her.

It was much smaller and seemed considerably more fragile than a leg or an arm, so Miko proceeded carefully, sliding both her palms gently along its length to spread the oil and get a feeling on how to proceed.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked when his head fell back against the bark of the tree with a mournful, strangled cry.

“No,” he panted, “but…you shouldn’t…Mahal, don’t stop.”

Ori was torn between the overwhelming need to find his release and the deep dread of that very same thing happening; her hands were warm, tender, and shockingly skilled as they glided up and down his shaft rhythmically.

All he had to do was open his eyes, he knew, all he’d need to push himself over the edge was to take one look at her beautiful face hovering above the most intimate part of him; it felt as if his whole being was being cradled and caressed between those smooth, slick hands.

Miko froze as soon as he opened his eyes; they were huge and pitch-black with an almost angry, wild hunger that was devoid of the cunning of the great cats or the dull cruelty of wargs.

She could feel his heartbeat thrum wildly under her palms and – for some reason – her own body echoed it within a tight ball of pulsating heat that had settled in the pit of her stomach from whence it bled tendrils of electric smoke down into the void between her own legs.

It was knowledge she had never been entrusted with and that she possessed nonetheless in this moment; this twitching, leaking appendage was the very opposite of the wet hollow she carried in the same exact spot of her anatomy, as if they had been made to complement one another.

Her eyes fell on his hands – broad and strong – and her flesh seemed to liquify, flowing towards him like a river trapped within the cage of her skin and bones; she wanted him to touch her.

Within a single crystalline second, Miko felt all the fragments of a thought often skirted but never fully contemplated slide into place to form a portrait of the man in front of her and she was filled with longing; she wanted him to reciprocate her tender touch, she yearned to melt like wax in his palms, and to drip like ink from his fingertips.

Tumbling away from the precipice he had been tottering along, Ori took a deep breath to settle his nerves that were still on fire and whipping around his body furiously in their mindless yearning for relief.

“Mahal, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, extending one hand but stopping short before it made contact with her skin.

“Me? You always look at me as if I was the most distasteful thing in the world,” Miko replied in the same hushed tone, hurt tinging her voice, but – at the same time – she had to admit that there was none of the previously so common disgust in his eyes now.

“I do? Oh,” the corners of his mouth twitched in disappointment, he had treated her abominably, “please believe me when I say that it had nothing to do with you. It was my own weakness that haunted me.”

“Weakness?” Miko breathed and the word was like a spell for she felt all energy leave her own body; she melted against him until her cheek came to rest on his exposed knee.

“Oh Miko,” Ori groaned, “you will never know what torture I have suffered; it is not right to take advantage of your naïveté. I am a despicable creature and – seeing how far I’ve let this get out of hand – I can only hope that, in time, you will recognise that my keeping you at arm’s length was but for your own good.”

“There is nothing despicable about you,” Miko objected immediately, “you are light and warmth like a fire in and of itself; you are the single most beautiful dwarf I’ve ever seen, and I am honoured to be allowed to behold such glory.”

Ori swallowed thickly; he could feel the warmth of her skin on his own and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything else in his entire life.

“You have not come here for a husband,” he spoke – more to himself than to her – in an attempt to save both of them from certain ruin and damnation.

“I have come here for a purpose,” Miko looked up at him, her fingers returning to him and trailing slowly along his balls, “and this seems like an honourable endeavour indeed.”

Then, as he shivered violently under her ministrations, she asked: “Does this give you pleasure?”

“More than you can imagine,” he answered throatily.

“How can I heighten that pleasure then?” she inquired further, smiling when he first paled and then blushed furiously.

A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, but he could not – in good conscience – ask her to perform any of these things on a scoundrel such as him.

“Let me just look at you,” he pleaded, trying hard to convince himself that – if he was not letting her despoil herself – he was minimising the damage while still quenching the raging fire that blazed through his veins.

Taking himself in hand again, he allowed himself to look upon her naked glory, to trace the curve of her breast with his eyes, and to imagine the soft hair at the apex of her thighs under his fingertips; already, his breathing grew ragged and halting again and his vision started to blur.

“May I kiss you?”

He was surprised by her plea but nodded; he had not expected her to sit down on his lap – effectively trapping his arm – to press a melting, demanding, devouring kiss upon his lips.

The dam broke and his instincts took over; wildly, recklessly, savagely his hands roamed over her silken skin as soon as hers dug into his hair to pull him ever closer.

He was so close to coming undone without either one of them laying a single finger on him just by feeling her heaving breasts crash like waves of warm flesh against his own bony chest; when he plunged a seeking hand between her legs, he couldn’t hold back the resounding moan that sounded like a thunderclap in the ambient silence of the deserted stretch of land.

She was warm and so achingly ready for him that it took every ounce of self-restriction he could muster not to shove her around and thrust into her blindly; the thought of being inside her eclipsed every other sensation or contemplation in his mind and body and – for a moment – he believed that he was about to go stark raving mad.

He had to stop, he had to get her off him, he had fought this so much and he was unwilling to fail now; she deserved better than being despoiled by a mere scribe – a war hero for sure – but still only an orphan boy unable to care for a woman.

By now though, he should have predicted that – whatever he may decide – she would not let him get away with it, no matter how pure and objectively correct – his intentions were and so, before he could recover from the impression of spinning madly without moving in the least, she had tilted and shifted and sunk down on him without a shadow of hesitation.

“Oh yes,” she moaned, “I knew it.”

Everything made sense all of a sudden, Miko realised, the way his fingers splayed on her naked back, the urgency with which he surged into her as if propelled by an inner force far beyond her wildest imaginings, and the expression of pure bliss spreading like sunlight over his face as his mouth fell open in wordless, soundless wonder.

Shivering underneath her like a leaf in a gale, Ori seemed to leave the earthly plane, his eyes rolling back and then – with a guttural cry of sheer relief – he came back all at once, raining hot, messy kisses on every inch of her skin he could reach.

“Oh,” he sighed shakily, “how can something so perfect be wrong?”

“Who said it was wrong?” Miko asked, a pulsating, beating, dull ache letting her know that she had crossed over into a realm where she’d never be free of the demon she let enter her skin ever again.

From this day forward, she would yearn for this every day of her life.

“So…” she grinned, “that’s how it starts? If you really do not hate me…”

“I do not,” he interrupted immediately.

“In that case,” Miko smiled, sinking into his waiting arms, “I’d love for you to teach me how to…’take care’ of those feelings. I suspect that they shall haunt me as well from now on.”

Ori could barely believe his own ears – big and reliable as they were – but he was more than willing to find out what worked for her and to learn – at her side and with her consent – how she could give herself relief.

Actually, he was looking forward to the studying as much as to the appraisal of the achieved end result.

“I can do that,” he grinned, helping her back into her clothes and slipping his own on again as well, “I guess, we’ll be undisturbed in the library.”

“Sounds good to me,” Miko smiled and said a silent prayer of gratitude to the spirits of river and stone that had interceded in her favour so promptly and competently on this fine autumn day, “can we do that now?”

“Oh, not just yet,” Ori grinned, lifting her off him and spreading her out on his coat that had slipped off her shoulders, “right now, I shall take care of you.”

So there we are...Happy Birthday to me <3

I hope all of you have an amazing day :D

If you still want smut, I strongly recommend that you check out the Lindir-smut @mismaeve has written (for poor little me)...It's hooooot!!!

Lots of love from me <3

#the hobbit #ori #fanfiction #ori the dwarf #ori propaganda #writing #*smut #*nsfw #lemony flavours here #happy birthday to me

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