#Erebor never fell au

[katajainen]

When you search for your favourite small(ish) ship on AO3 with the “otp:true” command, and see that there’s been a grand total of 4 new fics posted in the last year, and you wrote 2 of them...

...the obvious solution is of course start another fic because no-one else is going to do it.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ambassador to Madness

Rating: NR

Warnings: No warnings as of yet

Status: In-progress (9/?)

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU | Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell | Goldsickness | Slow Burn | Family Drama | Leans a bit towards Fake Marriage AU | Romance | Mystery-esque | First Time | Dwarven Politics

Summary: All Bilbo wanted was to be an ambassador to one of the richest kingdoms in Middle Earth. Upon meeting its prince, his opinion is greatly lessened. However, Bilbo still finds himself agreeing to play the part of his consort to help free Erebor from the gold mad Thror. Turns out, Thror may not be as blind as his grandson thinks, and intends to use Bilbo to get rid of Thorin once and for all.

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

New Chapter- Chapter 9: Feast and Fashion

Bilbo allowed it as walked over to pluck the book out of Thorin’s hands, his fingers ghosting over the section fondly. “Yes, she helped the author understand flower language for the story.”

“That’s like our gem language, right?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo nodded.

“Would you translate this part for me then?”

Bilbo’s heart was beating wildly in his chest especially when he could probably guess what part Thorin was at. Sure enough, as soon as the book was passed over to Bilbo, he saw that Thilion had just given the longing bouquet to Linnadis even though she had told him she was accepting Míriedir’s proposal to court. Thorin leaned over Bilbo’s shoulder so he could see the words as well, and as his breath tickled his neck, Bilbo thought he was going to combust.

“A-ah, yes. So the pink camellia means “longing for you”. The edelweiss is “courage in one’s devotion”, and the red salvia…”

Bilbo trailed off as he looked up into Thorin’s uncomfortably close face. Unable to pull away from the encouraging blue of his eyes and wistful smile across his face.

“Forever mine.” Bilbo ended up near whispering.

Thorin hummed in sympathy, but did not pull away or take the book back. He merely continued to stare at Bilbo the same way. 

“In gems, we would have used Ruby, Amethyst, and Diamond for such a message. Although it’s not an exact translation. Ruby is strengthening the decision making in passionate displays. Amethyst is about clearing one’s mind, but also being courageous in relationships. And then Diamond is practically indestructible so it’s a symbol of eternal love. Then there’s the matter of where you would place it. Possibly in a bracelet because our hands are our greatest gift from Mahal.” 

At this, Thorin stroked the inside of Bilbo’s wrist causing the hobbit to gasp lightly.

“Or a necklace to keep close to your heart.”

For more of this chapter, please click the AO3 link above!

[sonics-atelier]

Marks of Fate: The Acorn and The Harp

For @bagginshieldweek24 Day 3 : Soulmate Marks AU + Dwarf Culture

Summary : Soulmate marks are a blessing from the gods themselves, thorin and bilbo are destined for each other, cue teasing and heartwarming fluff

a/n : Welcome back to another installment of my How Thorin and Bilbo fell in Love series, I hope you enjoy this one <3 ( filli is awesome spread the word )

In the land of Middle-earth, soulmates were marked by unique symbols, destined to find and complete each other. Dwarves, the Children of Mahal, bore these marks with pride, believing them to be gifts from their creator. Hobbits, nurtured by Yavanna, held similar beliefs, though their marks were rarer and often hidden beneath layers of simplicity and routine.

Thorin Oakenshield, the exiled king under the mountain, bore the mark of an acorn above his heart. It was a symbol of growth, strength, and resilience, a connection to the great forests Yavanna loved. He had always believed that his soulmate would come from a race deeply connected to the earth, but life had other plans.

Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire, had a harp on his wrist. It was a symbol of harmony and music, a nod to the gentle nature of his people. He had never paid much attention to it, dismissing it as an odd birthmark, until his adventure with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield began.

As the journey to reclaim Erebor unfolded, Bilbo found himself drawn to Thorin in ways he couldn't explain. The dwarf king, though stern and proud, had moments of surprising gentleness, and Bilbo felt a connection growing between them. Thorin, for his part, was equally captivated by the hobbit, though he struggled to understand why.

Unbeknownst to them, the gods had already woven their destinies together.

One evening, as the Company made camp near the forest of Mirkwood, Thorin sat by the fire, absently tracing the acorn mark on his chest. Kili and Fili, his mischievous nephews, noticed their uncle's distraction.

"Uncle," Kili teased, "why do you keep touching your chest? Are you hiding something from us?"

Fili smirked, adding, "Maybe he's thinking about his soulmate. What do you think, Kili? Are they a dwarf or an elf?"

“What if it's Thranduil ?” Killi put a hand over his forehead, “Oh the Anguish,being mated to the one who you abhor.”

Thorin glared at his nephews, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "Mind your own business, you two. And for the record, I don't know who they are and I pray to mahal it isnt that stuck up blonde"

Bilbo, sitting nearby, looked up curiously. "What are you talking about?"

Kili grinned, "Our uncle's soulmate mark. Every dwarf has one, you know. It shows us who we're destined to be with."

Fili nodded, "What about you, Bilbo? Do hobbits have soulmate marks?"

Bilbo hesitated, then rolled up his sleeve to reveal the small harp on his wrist. "I suppose we do, though I've never thought much about it."

Thorin's eyes widened as he saw the mark. It felt significant, though he couldn't quite place why. Over the next few days, he found himself watching Bilbo more closely, noticing the way the hobbit's kindness and courage shone through.

. . .

In dwarven culture, courting was a subtle and intricate process, filled with gestures and tokens. Thorin decided to embrace these traditions, hoping to win Bilbo's heart. He started with small gifts: a carefully carved stone, a polished gem, and once, a delicate flower he found growing near the road.

Bilbo, bewildered by the sudden attention, accepted each gift with a puzzled smile. He had no idea what they meant but felt a warmth in his chest whenever Thorin's fingers brushed his. It wasn't until Balin, the wise and kind-hearted dwarf, took pity on him that he began to understand.

"Master Baggins," Balin said one evening, sitting beside him by the fire, "do you know what those gifts mean?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea. They're lovely, but I'm not sure why Thorin keeps giving them to me."

Balin chuckled. "They're courting gifts. In our culture, when a dwarf is interested in someone, they offer tokens to show their affection and intent. Thorin is trying to woo you."

Bilbo's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! I... I had no idea. What should I do?"

Balin patted his shoulder. "Just be yourself, laddie. And if you feel the same way, perhaps find a way to show him. A small gesture, something personal."

Bilbo nodded, determination growing within him. Over the next few days, he found ways to reciprocate Thorin's gestures. He shared his favorite stories and songs, baked a special treat with the limited ingredients they had, and once, he even found a small, shiny pebble that he knew Thorin would appreciate.

Thorin noticed Bilbo's efforts, his heart swelling with affection. One night, under the stars, he took Bilbo aside, away from the others. "Bilbo," he began, his voice soft, "I have something to tell you."

Bilbo looked up at him, his heart pounding. "Yes, Thorin?"

Thorin took a deep breath, revealing the acorn mark on his chest. "This mark... it's a sign from Mahal. It means we are soulmates, destined to be together. I believe the harp on your wrist is a sign from Yavanna, connecting us through the earth and its music."

Bilbo's eyes filled with wonder as he traced the acorn with his fingers. "I never realized... but it makes sense. I feel it in my heart"

Thorin smiled, his eyes shining. "Then, will you accept my courtship, Bilbo Baggins? Will you stand by my side as we reclaim our home and build a future together?"

Bilbo's heart swelled with joy as he nodded. "Yes, Thorin. I will."

Their bond deepened with each passing day, their love growing stronger as they faced challenges and triumphs together. Kili and Fili, though they still teased, were thrilled for their uncle, knowing he had found his true match.

And so, under the watchful eyes of the gods, Thorin and Bilbo began a new chapter of their lives. Their soulmate marks were not just symbols of their destiny, but the foundation of a love that would endure through all the ages of Middle-earth.

- @sonics-atelier 2024 , do not repost or reuse in any way , shape or form.

[mikathemonster]

“under my skin”

author’s note: okay, SO. y’all seem to be eating these fics up ravenously, so here I am to supply food to the starving wolves. eat up, baby! I'm so nervous since this is my longest fic yet, but here’s some fun and sexy (slight) enemies to lovers smut to spice up the fluff I've been writing lately. don’t say I never did anything for you guys. happy holidays, happy new year, and happy reading :)

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 14,873

summary: forced to be allies for the sake of preventing war, kíli could do nothing but find his way under your skin...

content warnings: Post BOTFA, Everyone Lives! AU, Enemies to lovers, minor injuries (but ouch man they hurt), a poorly written fight scene (im so sorry in advance), possible OOC Dwalin (let me know what y’all think), blood, mentions of violence (it’s LOTR, y’all), smut, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), praise, cursing

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGLESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

No matter the obstacle in your harrowing journey, the reward was all you needed to quickly motivate yourself again. What journey, you ask? Why, it was an adventure of great status and power. Commissioned by the King Under the Mountain himself, you (along with a hand-picked team of established dwarves and men) were tasked with hunting down and tracking a rather grisly enemy: Aevar Godfred. Once a man known for his high position among the ranks of Gondor, he was now an exiled thief on the run. His latest snatching had been of three precious jewels of Erebor. Now, these jewels weren’t nearly as precious as the Arkenstone, but they were still regal enough, crafted by Thorin himself to symbolize the current royal line of Durin. One for the king: an emerald that glowed with a radiant green shimmer. One for the crown prince: a ruby that flickered like the flames of the forges. And the last one for the youngest prince: a sapphire that reflected light just like the vast seas.

Aevar, under the cover of night and the kingdom’s banquet of Durin’s Day, had snuck into Erebor and stolen the Royal Jewels, his slippery self escaping into the night only to finally be noticed the next morning by guards when it was found that the jewels had left the treasury. An issued warning had been sent to Gondor, but after being informed that Aevar himself had been exiled, Thorin had decided to settle matters by his own means. A simple capture mission, one that Thorin was hoping would end with a blade to the thief’s slimy neck once he was returned to Gondor.

You remembered Thorin’s words the day this journey had been pushed onto you as clear as ever. It was night, and the torches had cast a glowing aura about the king as he sat upon his stone-carved throne. You, along with two other dwarves known as Dwalin and Kíli and another man named Sigfred, kneeled before the throne as Thorin’s gruff and commanding voice filled the bedrock walls.

“It is upon you that I delegate this mission,” he said. “Two weeks past, a sniveling thief fell under our noses and stole precious jewels of the kingdom. Jewels that belong to royalty.” His expression was proud and bright, but his voice held a dark tone that conveyed his authority with a scary countenance. “Word spread to Gondor, but it now comes to our own hands to deal with this sniveling coward. Under the guidance of Balin, I have assembled you four to carry out this mission. Word has come to us that the thief has been spotted south of Mirkwood. I suspect he may be running to Rohan or the Wilderland for shelter. You are to find him, hunt him if you must, but return him alive and restore the jewels. I promise you will all be handsomely rewarded upon your successful return.”

You all raised your heads to look upon the king, who now stood proudly above you all with a daunting presence. “To aid us in our mission, Gondor has sent Y/N.” With a raised hand in your direction, the king introduced you to your group, and you stood tall. “They are our insurance, and are in charge of keeping you all to our word that no harm comes to Aevar Godfred.”

You nodded in agreement, bowing. “While he is your enemy, I can assure you that we plan to deal with him swiftly. We exiled him in the hopes that he would rot away. Now, we plan to imprison him for the rest of his days so he can torment no longer.”

“That should’ve been your first decision,” one of the dwarves piped up, and you turned to meet his glare. Two fierce brown eyes met yours, their deep color matching the fiery attitude as the younger dwarf of your troop.

“Kíli, hold your tongue.” Dwalin warned, his own steely eyes now turned to the young prince.

“I’m sorry Uncle, but I cannot. I will not,” the young dwarf said, who you now knew to be Erebor’s Prince Kíli. And what an ignorant prince he seemed to be. “Why does Gondor wish to keep their thief after banishing him to be our problem? Why now do they intend to dispose of him?” The young dwarf stood now, palms open to Thorin in a silent plea of an explanation.

“To avoid battle.” You interrupted, growing impatient with him so soon after meeting him. He looked to you confused, before returning his quizzical glance to his uncle, who merely nodded.

“It was agreed that Aevar Godfred would be returned to Gondor as an insurance of no ill will between our kingdoms.” His voice was softer now as he approached his nephew, offering an apologetic hand on his shoulder. Carefully, he leaned into his shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We cannot afford to wage any kind of disagreement with Gondor over this man, nor can we afford his burglary to go unpunished. This is the only way to assure both.”

Though you couldn’t hear the words Thorin had whispered to Kíli, you figured you already knew based on Kíli’s reaction, his eyes widening and his jaw setting tightly. His tongue had left him, only responding with a small nod of acknowledgement before Thorin pulled away, casting a glance to you before returning to his throne.

“As I said before, Y/N will be your aid and your warden. I trust you all to behave.” Now back to his regular gruff self, he cleared his throat. “Offering his services to us freely, Sigfred here will serve as your guide. His knowledge of the Wilderland is vast, and I pray it will serve you well on this journey.”

Sigfred too now rose, a silent nod from the ginormous auburn-haired man, whose mustache twitched as his gaze pierced through you. You had heard tales of a wandering ranger from the Wilderland, their rumors passing off as myth as it was hard to survive without aid in those lands. After all, nothing came from the Wilderlands save for wild beasts of enormous strength. But here he stood, six feet and four inches tall, with hair covering his chest and arms as shown through his tunic.

“As for warriors, Erebor supplies the journey with Dwalin and Kíli.” Thorin finished his introductions, his hands offering the two dwarves, of which only Dwalin was left kneeling. But that didn’t last long as he finally stood, arms crossed.

“For the journey, I offer my axes,” he grumbled. His voice was deep and gruff, and scars littered his arms, reminiscent of battles long ago.

“And I my sword and bow,” spoke Kíli, who now seemed to know how to bite his tongue.

“It is done, then.” Thorin said with a nod. “By first light, you all shall begin your journey. Rest now, and be swift.” And with a single hand he dismissed you all, leaving you to return to your lodgings within the mountain halls. But as you left, you felt Kíli’s gaze bore stubborn holes into the back of your skull.

That was three weeks ago. It was the money that kept you here, you had to remind yourself. Nothing else but the bounty of gold promised to you by the King Under the Mountain himself, Thorin Oakenshield. Nothing else, despite the fact that you were already beginning to feel your patience wearing thin. In just three short weeks, the young prince of Erebor had been nothing but insufferable and unprofessional. Constantly up to pranks at the expense of you and your sanity (he had attempted to jest with Sigfred, but it seemed the poor dwarf prince was intimidated by the silent man who stood almost two feet taller than he), he was driving you up a wall. The few times Dwalin had put him in check were the only moments that brought you relief these days. That, and the quiet nights you all slept in the shadows. It seemed the only good thing Kíli provided was his skill with a bow and scouting. Though, a part of you was also entertained by his stories, which he told often to Sigfred whenever he could. Though intimidated, it seemed the young dwarf was also awestruck by the tall ranger. It was only when he told such stories of dragons and elves that you found yourself fully listening to him.

But as more days passed, he seemed to be getting bolder. To begin the next week, he had decided to swipe your clothes while you were caught unawares, hiding them while you were bathing nearby! You were lucky it was Sigfred and not Dwalin who found you panicking naked about the springs, pushing your embarrassment down knowing for a fact that the quiet man wouldn’t tell a soul. You were lucky he had helped by finding and bringing you your clothes (lest you be caught meandering naked just outside of Mirkwood) but still, a part of your dignity had evaporated that day. You could feel yourself being pushed to the brink by his antics, and weren’t sure just how much you could take it.

A few more days passed, and finally you had a lead on Aevar Godfred. You had caught wind of a strange man shirking about past the Brown Lands, headed west towards Fangorn. You thought that he was possibly trying to run to Rohan in hopes of sanctuary, as Thorin had theorized all those weeks ago. Mind set on tracking him, you followed Sigfred as he led the way, his fast legs leaving you and the other two dwarves quite winded by the time you set up camp the next night. Quickly, you all settled under the shelter of wooden ruins that must have been a stable at one point. Dwalin was quick to get the fire going, sending out Kíli to go hunting for tonight’s dinner. Sigfred, who was a vegetarian, was put on watch.

With a tired demeanor, you sunk to the ground, sitting near Dwalin at the fire. For now, while Kíli was away, you could relax. A sigh escaped your lips, and you tried to stretch your back, thoughts eating away at the back of your mind. “I worry about our journey ahead,” you said. Dwalin responded with nothing, but the glint in his eyes told you he was listening. “I’ve heard rumors about Fangorn Forest, and it’s not one to lose yourself in.” You straightened your back, leaning closer to Dwalin, your voice now a whisper. “They say the trees there are different, they’re not normal. They… they can speak to each other. Whisper, mumble, and moan. And sometimes, they say they can even walk.”

“And does someone of your status believe these tales?” Dwalin mused, and you could hear a slight mocking lilt to his voice, though you took care not to address it. He didn’t seem spooked by your words, not in the slightest. “Why lead us there then?”

“I hope to go around,” you replied. “But if Sigfred finds more tracks, we may have no choice but to venture into those woods.” You leaned back, laying on your back now among the grass and twigs. “I’m beginning to worry about how long this is taking. Surely Erebor wouldn’t claim war over something small like this.” You had muttered the last part to yourself, but Dwalin’s keen ears had caught it.

“Thorin would not choose war so easily, not since the days of the dragon,” he said. “But I say murder lies on his mind often with the likes of thieves.”

You nodded, listening. It made more sense to think of it like that, and it started to make you wonder if the council of Gondor had sent you here as “aid” merely to appease the stubborn dwarves. A milk run of sorts. A small errand to busy the minds of children. You groaned at the thought, not too pleased with the idea of possibly being a scapegoat for something as small as this.

The sound of returning footsteps stirred your thoughts, and you were quick to stand back onto your feet. You knew it was Kíli, and if Kíli was returning so soon, you had no doubt that his antics would as well. You weren’t in the mood to deal with him, especially now with all these doubts swimming in your head. You needed to clear your mind, and so you walked away from the fire and into the night. Not too far, mind you, but far enough to feel alone with the crickets and the stars. They were shining brightly tonight, and you wondered what it would be like to touch one as you sat back in the grass. You wondered what it would be like to fly up, up, up into the sky and sit on a cloud, far away from dwarven princes and thieves and political feuds.

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed before you had finally decided you should return, standing up and dusting yourself off before a soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Are you not going to eat?” The voice startled you, coming from right behind you and causing you to trip and fall backwards on top of the poor person. Well, maybe they didn’t deserve that much pity, as you quickly realized it was Kíli who had startled you.

“Gods, make yourself known next time!” You grumbled, annoyed, and you brought your fist to his chest in spite. But after a quick wince of pain, all he did was smile, and suddenly you realized how close you two were, with you still on top of him.

“My, my. Falling for me already?” He beamed, coughing out a pained chuckle with his cheeky grin catching you off guard as you hurriedly sat up and away from him, trying your best to regain your composure.

“Don’t get it twisted,” you said. “If I spend one more minute this close to you, I think I’ll go insane.”

He too started to rise, propping himself up on his elbows. “I think we finally agree, but don’t go making empty promises.” He chuckled, and you could have sworn he even winked. The gall! The nerve! Gods! Your cheeks heated up in anger and embarrassment at his words.

“The only promise I’ll give is my hands around your throat if you don’t stop.” You warned, finally finding the courage to stand.

He sighed wistfully, getting himself back up. “I’ll warn you; don’t go making promises you can’t keep, now. You’d be surprised to find I might like that.”

Your eyes widened, and your ears and cheeks flushed again. You were so unbelievably caught off guard by his flirtatious comments that you couldn't even remember why he had come to retrieve you in the first place. Now he was beginning to push his luck. “Will you stop these jokes, already?”

“Jokes? I can assure you that I’m definitely into-”

“No, stop! Stop it! I’m done!” You said, frustrated. “For two months now we’ve been at this, and for two months now you’ve made a complete fool of me! I can’t take these pranks of yours anymore, I refuse! Hiding my weapons was mildly annoying, painting my face in my sleep was immature, and don’t even get me started on hiding my clothes while I’m bathing! Is nothing sacred to you?”

His eyes widened, surprised by your outburst. A heavy silence fell as he studied your face carefully. He took a step closer, his eyes holding some sort of apologetic worry that seemed so foreign to you now compared to his usual grins. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” His words were honest, and his voice had softened. “It was all in good fun, I meant no ill will.”

“Good fun?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I was left to wander around naked because of you!”

“A sight I wish I could’ve seen,” he coughed to himself. “But really, I meant nothing by it. Despite how lovely it is to see you flustered, I don’t wish to make an enemy of you.” He spoke truthfully, though hidden was another truth you couldn’t fully discern. Offering a hand, he looked into your eyes with his own deep brown ones that shone in the starlight. “A truce. I promise to leave you alone for the rest of the journey, I swear.”

You were suddenly finding yourself taken aback by how quickly his mood had shifted from playful to serious. Before the journey had even started, he had been glaring daggers into your backside. What could have possibly made him change his mind in these last two months? Even his pranks had gone from tormenting the group as a whole to being more targeted towards you as of late. What was in his mind to focus so much attention on driving you insane? But his expression was earnest, and it suddenly made you second-guess yourself, now embarrassed that you had made such a big deal of it all. “No, you… You don’t have to do all that.” You sighed, swallowing your pride for the first time with him. “I just… If we are to continue being allies, then I can’t keep being some little game for you to entertain yourself with. I deserve some respect.”

He nodded, understanding now that his attempts of flirting with you had come off as harassment, and was feeling deeply ashamed. “You deserve so much more than that,” he said, retracting his hand. His voice had said those words so softly, like a feather caught in a breeze. And just as quickly as silence fell again, he was quick to do a silly little bow to you.

“From now on, I’m at your service,” he smiled. “Allow me to extend my services for your forgiveness, if you’ll allow it.”

You swallowed, not sure of what to make of his gesture. Perhaps he was simply joking again, but perhaps he wasn’t. And perhaps you were willing to risk those odds, for some reason. You stood for half a second before sighing. Your mind was made up. “Alright,” you spoke. “But one more chance. That’s all you’re getting, so you better not disappoint me.”

Relieved you accepted him for now, he beamed, and in the same breath realized just how much he was beginning to fall for you.

Finally, you were hot on Aevar’s trail. Two and a half months into your journey, with which Kíli had thus been true to his word, and you had found it. Hidden just in front of the forest’s entrance, in a now-abandoned shack along the main road, you had spotted a campfire. And not just any campfire, but the likes of which belonged to Aevar Godfred. You knew him well based on his face, for he had been born with a scar along his cheek that was hard to miss through the windows of the shack, and even harder to forget. Behind trees, you kept hidden, retreating back to tell the others of your good fortune. Finally, this would all be over soon. Or at least half of the journey would be.

It seemed the only one who had been excited by the news was Kíli, his eyes shining brightly and eager to get to work when you had told the group of your findings. Dwalin himself had also shown relief, though from all his years he knew better than to celebrate early. Sigfred, for once, showcased a small smile, though concern still laced his brow. Now, all that needed to happen was the forming of a plan. After quick deliberation, it was settled; you’d all wait him out and sack him in his sleep.

Hours passed by until the fire’s light was seen dying, and further scouting from Kíli proved useful as ever. Aevar Godfred, the scourge of both Gondor and Erebor, was finally asleep.

With careful steps and baited breath, you all surrounded him, wary of waking him. It had been decided that the “sacking” would go along in this fashion: Kíli, with a drawn bow and keen eye, would keep his sights drawn on Aevar in the event that he tried something nasty upon waking. Dwalin, armed with his sheer muscle, would guard the door of the building. Sigfred stood guard outside, for he was the last resort if Aevar tried to make a break for it. And as for you, you carefully made your way to Aevar’s sleeping figure, maneuvering his weapons away from his sleeping body until you were ready for the next step.

Quickly, you gave a glance to Dwalin, who nodded to let you know that he was ready any time. Turning your glance, you now looked at Kíli, who looked quite intimidating now that his weapon was drawn. He gave you a knowing look, slowly nodding, and you knew it was time. You drew a breath, unsheathed your dagger, and pounced.

You awoke the thief with a start, your blade drawn to his neck as you straddled his body, digging your knees into his wrists to prevent him from moving. His head whipped wildly about, assessing the situation, before his head made contact with yours, and hard. Your grip faltered for a moment, and Aevar took his chance. Springing up, he swung his legs at Kíli, missing the dwarf’s fired arrow just barely, though it cut his cheek. Down Kíli tumbled, and down Aevar flew to swipe at his weapons, but not before you threw your dagger as a quick-ditch method. It managed to pierce him in his backside, and the traitor let out a great howl of pain, dropping to his knees but still desperately scurrying to try and retrieve some sort of weapon.

“Dwalin, now!” You commanded, holding your head in your right hand. You wondered if it would bruise, but found yourself more annoyed that Godfred had gotten you with such child’s play. Kíli himself was also finding himself annoyed, not having missed a target in a long while. He would later blame it on the cramped space, but that was no matter for now.

Dwalin was swift as he was scary, kicking Aevar down onto his stomach and holding him there with his foot before binding his hands behind his back, all the while with the cowardly man howling and moaning. With one swift hit, Dwalin knocked the man out, and his body thumped on the broken wooden floors.

“Dwalin! We need him alive!” You said, worried.

“Alive,” he repeated. “And I’d rather think quietly, too.”

You groaned, not wanting to bicker. The important part was that you got him. You had ensnared your prey, and despite the annoyance you were thanking the stars that it had been so easy. Stumbling onto your hands and knees, you issued another order.

“Kíli, find the jewels. Quick.” You said, and Kíli wasted no time in searching, tearing apart Aevar’s things one by one. But he was starting to get frustrated, with each bag and nook and cranny turning up empty.

“They’re not here.. They’re not here!” He looked at you with exasperation, and you finally stood up, dumbfounded.

“Look again, Kíli,” Dwalin commanded. “Find them now.”

Both of you now searched, hands tearing the place apart together until just under the floorboards, you saw something shine from the moonlight trickling in the window. Quickly, you got on all fours, prying the floor open only to cut yourself on a sharp nail. You winced, a few curses expelling themselves from your lips as you stumbled back, catching yourself with your elbow. Kíli was quick to notice, casting a worried look to your current state before finishing what you had started. He pried open the floor, and there they were. Tucked and wrapped in a loose scarf sat the jewels, the sapphire peeking out in the moonlight. It was the sapphire that you had seen.

“We found them!” He called out, a laugh of relief escaping him as he raised them in his hand to show Dwalin and Sigfred, who had finally come in after realizing all had went well so far.

You smiled in relief, but quickly found yourself focusing back on your hand, which now felt as though it were burning and going numb at the same time. Though it was bleeding a lot, as being a long cut that ran from your middle finger to the base of your thumb, you were lucky it seemed to have only cut skin and not tissue. But still, it was deep, creating a thin gash on your hand. This plus your combined headache was making it harder for you to stay present in the moment. Your head pounded still from the impact, and you partially wondered if you were having a concussion. You ripped off some fabric from your tunic, quickly wrapping your hand for now, though you knew it would have to be treated sooner than later. But now, there was still work to do.

Just one hour later, you had all set up inside the abandoned shack. Quickly, everyone had gotten to work. Sigfred had been put on watch after tying and binding Aevar up to one of the shack’s foundational beams tight enough that you almost pitied him. Keyword: almost. Dwalin had rekindled the dying fire just in time for rain to begin falling, with droplets peppering in through the broken patches of the thatch roofing. Kíli had raided the rest of Aevar’s belongings to supply everyone with decent enough rations, and you… You hadn’t been much help, not that you could help it. You leaned against the wall of the ruined building, wincing at any slight movement in your right hand due to the placement of the cut. A part of you silently wished it had been your non dominant hand; at least then, you’d still be some sort of useful.

Taking a seat by your side, Kíli put both of your rations on the ground before leaning closer, his brows furrowed and laced with concern. “Let me see,” he said, awfully close. And reluctantly, you offered him your hand. You had half the mind not to just because of how much he seemed to get on your nerves, or how much you wanted to seem strong despite the burning feeling, but you were worried too much about it being infected to be in any position above him right now.

His thicker fingers delicately unwrapped the tunic scraps off of the cut, soaked in blood that now looked dark from the amount you had bled. His jaw set tightly after getting a good look at it, and he drew a skin from his bag. “We need to clean it,” he said. He opened the skin with his teeth, pouring a liquid on your wound that you quickly realized from the smell and awful sting alone was liquor, quite possibly ale. You hissed, tensing everywhere as your head fell back against the wall in pain. It ebbed in your hand, a burning and stinging sensation that made you want to chop the whole hand off and be done with it. You bit your lip hard, groaning in pain. You had tried jerking your hand back to you, but Kíli’s once delicate hold now gripped your wrist tightly to make sure he didn’t miss any spots.

“It has to be cleaned,” he explained, though you already knew that quite well. “You’re doing well, it’s alright.” His reassuring words startling you as you quickly met his gaze, a sense of uncertainty in your eyes. Perhaps he pitied you right now, you thought to yourself. He was being too nice, and you didn’t know how to respond to it. It seemed like another prank, another ruse. You broke the eye contact held between you, your pride getting the best of you as you only nodded. Eventually, the pain dulled down, and Kíli’s grip loosened, setting your hand down to retrieve some fresh gauze to wrap your wound.

“It’s not too deep,” he said. “But you won’t be able to make much use out of your hand for now.” You turned back to him, refusing to take your eyes away from him now as he wrapped you up. No, it wasn’t refusal, now that you thought about it. You simply couldn’t look away. You had become all too interested in the concentrated gaze he held, his hair falling in the front of his face. Without a thought behind it, you raised your other hand to his face, tucking away the loose hair behind his ear. He tensed at the contact, quick to look at you all wide-eyed like a deer caught at night. You couldn’t read his face, and soon realized just what you had done. Coming back to your senses, you cleared your throat, sitting up straighter.

“It is… Um, is it finished?” You asked. Kíli took a second longer to bring himself back, before he too cleared his throat.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “But be careful. Here.” His hands left your own, and you found yourself being disappointed by it, though you didn’t understand why. He handed you your food for the night, and you softly thanked him, being careful with your injury as you ate.

“He’ll be waking up soon,” Dwalin grunted, and you were reminded that you had an audience this whole time. “What’s the plan from here?”

“Gondor isn’t too far from here,” you spoke carefully, envisioning the route home in your mind. “But the jewels and prisoner must be returned to Erebor.”

“And so they shall,” Kíli nodded, now seated next to Dwalin, leaving his spot beside you. Again, disappointment crept into your mind from the gesture, but you still didn’t understand why you felt such a way.

“Aye, they will.” Dwalin agreed. “But traveling with a sniveling thief won’t be easy. I doubt he’ll be more than willing to come along, and I don’t want more dead weight for the journey back home.” He grunted disapprovingly, not liking the idea of traveling with Aevar. Not that you blamed him, though.

“As much as it doesn’t sound appealing, it’s what your king wanted us to do.” You said. “Gondor, if they even still want him, will want him from your kingdom more than my own hands.”

Kíli quirked an eyebrow in confusion, looking at Dwalin and then you. “What do you mean by ‘if’ they still want him?”

You sighed, finishing your meal quickly. “My orders were more vague than I told you; I’m not entirely sure what will happen to him once he’s brought to Minas Tirith. But regardless, we should follow along as we have. We should leave early tomorrow and make use of the light. I’ll take first watch.”

Kíli was still curious of your orders, but decided against discussing further. It was late, and everyone was tired from the journey. Sigfred let out a small sigh of relief after being relieved from his duty, and soon everyone was preparing for the night to sleep.

Night crept on, much like the thunderstorm that raged overhead, and you had been at watch for a few hours now, with everyone sleeping at the other end of the shack. You too had begun to start feeling tired, but the thunder clapping flooded your ears and kept you awake. It seems it managed to stir others at times too, for soon Aevar awoke, tied down and gagged. You rolled your eyes at the sight as he began groaning and sputtering muffled curses at you through the fabric stuffed in his mouth, quite enraged to be in his current state.

“Silence,” you ordered, keeping your voice low. “You have no one but yourself to blame. We’re taking you back to Erebor, where your punishment awaits.”

But Aevar was a fool, and a stubborn one at that. Managing to spit out the gag to your surprise, he then spat venom at you. “Do what you will, but as soon as you fall asleep I’ll unbind myself, slit your disgusting throats and be off with what’s mine. I stole them once and I’ll do it again.”

“Oh, don’t make me laugh,” you scoffed, glaring at him. “Give it up; you have no power here, nor anywhere else for that matter.” Your words were fueled by your distaste for his pitiful arrogance. “Did you really think you were so smart? So clever? You stole something when nobody was watching, and now act as if you’ve hung the stars themselves. Get a hold of yourself, Aevar. You’re nothing but a worthless cheat.”

“So says you, who bends every which way for the sake of a man you call King.” He said. “And I’m the one without worth? If I’m but dirt, then what does that make you?”

You didn’t answer at first, but your expression became stony as your free hand held the hilt of your dagger tightly. “It’ll make you nothing but a distant memory by the time we arrive in Erebor. Now be quiet if you know what’s good for you. It would be wise for you to keep your tongue once you’re there, unless you’d like for me to cut it out?”

“You don’t scare me,” he hissed. “You’re just a slave to your government. A pawn to your politics. And a whore to your-”

Quickly, you decided you had had enough of his mad ramblings, grasping the blade of your dagger to strike him in the head with its hilt, knocking him unconscious once more and right in tandem with an awful clapping of powerful thunder. He made another slimy grunt before going out cold, and upon seeing the slight cut on your hand from your grip, you dropped the blade, watching it clatter to the floor. You were lucky this cut was lighter than the one on your dominant hand, and even luckier that your dagger was dull. Only a few drops of blood escaped before you wrapped your other hand as best as you could, relieved that you could still use it despite your rashness leading you to now have two cut hands.

But you hadn’t been quiet enough, it seemed. From hearing the clatter, Kíli awoke, his eyes squinting in the dark to find you standing over Aevar’s body, which had sunk back into his original position. He stood up, making his way behind you as he peered over at the thief, who now lay unconscious. His gaze shifted between the dagger on the floor and the thief tied up. “What happened?”

“He woke up, just like Dwalin said,” you spoke plainly. “So I put him back to sleep.” Now starting to ebb away from your dark thoughts, you turned to look at the dwarf. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he lied, his voice soft. “The thunder. It’s just loud tonight.”

You nodded, sitting back down against the wall like you had done earlier. “I see. It’ll probably continue on until the morning, too.”

Concern laced his brow as he studied your face, kneeling now in front of you. “Y/N…” Your name sounded so delicate on his tongue. “Is… Is everything alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “He just… He got under my skin, that's all.”

Now Kíli nodded, and repositioned himself to sit next to you. “I see.” A small pause as he attempted to cheer you up. “And here I was, thinking that was my job.”

You gave a weak chuckle, smiling softly as your head leaned back, hitting the wall. A comfortable silence fell over you two, or as silent as you could get with the commotion going on outside. “Listen, Kíli,” you whispered.

“Yes?” He looked at you, his eyes shining like stars in the dark sky. You didn’t understand why you thought of them like that, but you did.

“About earlier. I wanted to thank you for patching me up. I should’ve said it earlier but I let my pride get in the way. I’m sorry.” You spoke earnestly, wanting to wipe the guilt out of your memory by setting the record straight. “You’ve been true to your word since our last conversation, and here I am still finding myself not trusting you. It’s unfair. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he smiled, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m nothing but trouble in your eyes, you have every right to keep looking over your shoulder. I’m just glad you didn’t suffer anything worse.”

You sighed, nodding with a hum of acknowledgment, but his words seemed to bite you on the inside. Another pause came, followed by your voice. “You’re not.. You’re not trouble.” You spoke carefully, not even entirely sure where you were going with this yourself. “I’m just not used to such antics, least of all from a prince.” He chuckled at this.

“Sometimes,” you looked away, not being able to look at him while you admitted the next bit. “I suppose sometimes, they could even be considered funny.”

You kept your gaze away, but saw in your peripheral that Kíli seemed shocked by your words. “Funny? Oh Mahal, how hard did he hit your head?”

You whipped your head back around at the accusation, finding it already annoying that it had taken so much pride to give the dwarf a compliment. “Oh please! If he had hit me any harder I may have said I was in love with you,” you said sarcastically, but it seemed that Kíli didn’t find it as funny. Or not at first, at least, as a gruff chuckle left him a bit delayed.

“Ah, I see.” He said. “Well, it’s good to see you’re not hurt in the head, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to insult me nearly as easily.” He gave a cheeky grin and you rolled your eyes, shrugging off his teasing. “I like seeing this side of you, Y/N.”

“What, injured?” You raised your wrapped hands, confused by his statement.

“Open,” he said, and continued to elaborate at the sight of your raised eyebrow. “When we first met, you were so cold and kept mostly to yourself. I’m glad the journey has brought us closer.”

“And when we first met, I could say the same of you,” you retorted. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your glares and sneers when I left each room.” Kíli shrunk a little at this, finding himself embarrassed.

“I was…” He explained. “I was rather rash in my thoughts, I’d say. But I know better now. I think I know you a little better now, too.” You scoffed at this, rolling your eyes.

“Oh really? And what have you found out, you little spy?” You taunted, raising a brow.

“That you’re just as strong as you are stubborn.” He began. “That no matter what happens, you always seem to be able to motivate yourself and get back up again. And that you take your job seriously. So seriously that you never seem to have time for a joke or a laugh. But when you do laugh, your eyes crinkle up like paper. It makes me wish to see your laugh more often.” He looked over at you, meeting your eyes now. Your face was flushed from hearing such words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to escape his stare. No, you found yourself lost in it. Two swirling pools of a deep brown that seemed to drown you. So deep, in fact, that you feared if you dove in, you might never come up for air. You found yourself speechless, not sure of what to say or how to continue such a conversation. Kíli continued it for you.

“You also have quite a temper,” he laughed. “You get wrinkles on your forehead, especially when you’re cross with me. And your fist stings just as hard as your glares. It reminds me sometimes of my mother; it seems you both think I’m reckless.”

Finally, your words returned to you as you cleared your throat to find them. “Well she’s right, you know,” you said. “You are reckless. A complete idiot driven by impulse. But you’re smart, nonetheless.” You sighed, pushing your pride aside for just a moment, long enough to admit your favorite things about him. “You’re incredibly skilled with a bow, I’d say you even rival elvish warriors.”

“You think so?” He asked, smiling. You nodded.

“But your strategies need more work. You’re smart with a blade, and you’re incredibly determined, but you’re still impulsive. You don’t look out for yourself enough.” You tried your best not to scold him, but still found yourself frustrated at the facts. “You try your best to look out for everyone else in the group, but do nothing for yourself. It’s exhausting. If you continue to do so, you’re only going to get yourself hurt.” You wanted to say more, but bit your tongue, lest you admit a tiny part of yourself cared about him.

“So the immovable Y/N truly does worry about me,” he teased, but his face dulled at the thought. “But you’re right. At least, that’s what I’ve been told many times by many people. I let my emotions get the best of me, it seems.”

You felt bad for chiding him, shifting yourself to face him more as you sighed. “It’s not entirely a bad thing, you know.” He looked back up at you, curious for you to say more. “Emotions are good, it means you have a heart, and that’s very rare to find these days in times of war. You have the heart of a warrior, Kíli.” His smile returned at your words, and he found himself falling deeper into your eyes this time.

“You know,” he spoke, his voice soft. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a soft spot for me.” You flushed again, your eyes going wide. “Either that, or you’ve gone delirious with infection. I think it’s poisoning your mind!” Your breath of relief (that you weren’t even aware you had let out) left him laughing at your disposition.

“Well if that were the case,” you grumbled. “It would be from your own lack of medical expertise.” Kíli smiled, rolling his own eyes, and you were beginning to find yourself very tired from the night, your eyelids growing heavy and your yawns coming in more frequently. The thunder outside now seemed so distant in your sleepy mind. How long had it been? Four, five hours? You stretched your exhausted body, trying to find comfort against the wall.

“I can take over,” he spoke, stirring you from your thoughts. “I don’t mind. You need the rest, anyways.” You shook your head no, stubborn as you were.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“You’re tired,” he said. “Just rest. I’m quite awake now, don’t worry. I can stand watch.”

You sighed, not wanting to bicker. “Fine, but only for an hour. Not a moment longer, wake me up once it’s over.” You groaned, resting your head against the wall to sleep, not bothering to move from your spot, still intent on watching later as you shut your eyes.

Kíli huffed at your stubbornness. “Y/N, here.” You felt his hand come across your face, guiding your head into his lap. Your eyes shot open for a second, startled at the gesture.

“What… What are you-” you tried to speak, but were interrupted.

“Shh, rest now,” he said. “I don’t want you to have a stiff neck for the journey back. Unless you’d rather take the floor?”

You said nothing in response, not having the energy to fight or the courage to taunt him back. A small sigh left your lips and you closed your eyes again, drifting off to sleep.

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. You all wasted no time in hurrying back to Erebor, though the journey itself would take another month and a half. Your days were filled with hiking the forests, hills, and mountains as the sun rose and set around you all constantly. But despite the fast progress you had been making, the journey was far from quiet. Aevar made sure of that, constantly whining and groveling only to spit insults whenever someone wasn’t giving him the attention he so desperately sought. You had all realized early on that rendering him unconscious never solved the problem like you had hoped it would. So instead, you had chained him up, tying his hands together with a long rope you could pull on to ensure he followed. It was mostly Dwalin’s job to do this, being one of the more physically strong ones. Sigfred had been in charge a few times in the past, but quickly found he didn’t have half the stubborn determination that Dwalin did.

Kíli had been put on as the leader of the pack lately, often scouting ahead and helping ensure the road you all traveled was safe and swift. He seemed to have a new energy about him lately too, but you chalked up his eagerness as just wanting to be home soon. You too were ready to return to Erebor already, the journey having set a new ache in your bones that you wished a decent bed would soothe. But you’d be lying if you said you also didn’t share a newfound energy. And it wasn’t because your hands were healing up quickly, either.

Ever since that first night with Aevar, you had found Kíli invading your mind much more than you deemed necessary. You now watched him closely, catching yourself studying him like a prey does of a hunter, though you knew in your heart that he was no such thing. But still, you found yourself strangely timid around him now. His smiles slowly became contagious, his laughs leaving you flustered now. You had no clue what to make of it, and silently cursed yourself all the while. You didn’t want to address the fact that you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him, and had silently chosen not to address any of these feelings until you reached Erebor’s mountain gates.

But it was on days like this that you were finding it harder and harder to do such a thing, as Kíli seemed to always want to be at your side whenever there was a break to do so. Not that you had any courage to deny him, though. A secret part of you enjoyed the way his face seemed to light up during your conversations, a stark contrast to how you two had originally gotten off upon meeting each other.

The night was young, and you had all just reached the dense and dark forest of Mirkwood, setting up camp quickly. It was better to go through Mirkwood during the day, for it was so dark at night that you couldn’t even see your hand if you waved it in front of your own face. Sigfred had gotten the fire started, with Dwalin taking first watch, tying Aevar to a tree, much to the thief’s dismay. It was your turn to hunt tonight’s dinner, as your rations were all running low, and so you set out just a little ways away from your campsite.

Determined, you snuck around the fields surrounding the forest until you found a small river. With eager eyes, you stepped into the shallow end of the waters, drawing your daggers as you let the moonlight glimmer off the stream, waiting eagerly to see the shimmer of fish scales. Though it was a lot of waiting, you were eager and patient for the reward of fresh fish. One by one, you managed to stab each fish with great accuracy, only gathering enough to eat for tonight; any leftovers would probably spoil during the remainder of the journey. Waiting just a little longer to catch one last fish, your focus was stirred by footsteps approaching you. You looked up, keeping your dagger taught in your hand, until you realized it was just Kíli who stood at the top of the riverbank, peering down at you. You sighed, relieved it was just him.

“You know, for a dwarf,” you chuckled. “You’re quite the master of stealth. It’s starting to scare me how quiet you can walk.” He smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“Apologies, I meant not to startle you. I actually came to offer aid; there’s not much to do at camp.” His hands drifted to his bow, holding it up for you to see. You nodded in acknowledgement.

“I appreciate it, but I’m almost done. You can help me carry these back though, if you’d like,” you gestured to the fish, and he nodded with a delighted hum, climbing down to the edge of the river’s shores to get a closer look after putting his bow away.

“A fine dinner, I’m sure,” he grinned. “Caught by an even finer hunter, no doubt.” You flushed at his words, fiddling with your dagger to avoid looking nervous. His words were like honey, and if you weren’t careful, you’d find yourself stuck in their sweetness. A part of you wanted to talk about your newfound feelings, though this was all foreign territory to you. You didn’t even know where to start.

“You’re too kind,” was all you could mutter out before hunching back down into the waters to search for the glimmer of fish again. You needed a distraction, something to pull you out of the enchanting reverie of Kíli Durin, and he could sense this, growing a little concerned.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, seating himself next to your pile of caught fish, all of good size for tonight’s dinner. You dare not look back at him, feigning ignorance.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You spoke absentmindedly, trying harder to focus on your hunting. And soon, you saw another shimmer of scales heading right your way.

“It feels like you’ve grown a little distant, ever since that night we caught Aevar,” he said, causing you to slip up and narrowly miss the fish. You huffed quietly as you watched it dart away with frantic speed. It seems there was no avoiding this, no matter how hard you wanted to. You stood straight again, looking at him nervously.

“What do you mean?” You asked, hoping it was enough to make up an excuse for. What you hadn’t expected was to see Kíli’s expression so worried, almost afraid. But not the fear one has in danger, no. It seemed like an emotional fear, an anxiety over the anticipation of your conversation. And it seemed you shared it, too.

He chose his next words carefully. “You talk less, at least when you’re around me. You no longer seem to enjoy being near me once we make camp. I just… Is it something I did? Did I make you uncomfortable in some way?” His eyes seemed to hold a slight hurt in them, and it broke you in two to see him in such a way.

You mentally cursed yourself, not realizing in your own emotional troubles that you had also brought Kíli some pain. You quickly shook your head, denying his questions. “No! No, I promise that isn’t it,” you said. But you didn’t know where to go from there, your words catching in your throat. Kíli stepped forward, his boots almost submerging in the river’s waters.

“Then what is it, Y/N?” His voice always spoke your name so beautifully, so delicately, and you wanted to tell him that, but now wasn’t the time. You weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to tell him. You yourself didn’t even fully understand how you felt towards him, and it seemed to only bring frustration to you, especially right now when all you wanted to do was shout about how you couldn’t erase his smile from your mind.

“I…” you tripped over your own thoughts, finding yourself frustrated to tears that you couldn’t even say such a simple thing. But then again, it wasn’t simple. Not to you, at least. “You don’t bring me discomfort,” you reassured. “I just… There’s so much in my mind right now, and I have no idea how to tell you about any of it.”

Kíli took a step further, now in the waters with you as he approached, his hands reaching out for your own. Gingerly, you took them, drawing a breath. His gaze was so gentle, so patient. “Is there anything I can do to help ease your mind?” he offered, and you frowned, unsure of what would even help at this moment.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’m not even sure I know what to make of these thoughts for myself, Kíli.”

“Then tell me what ails you,” he said. “And I will do my best to help.”

You exhaled, nodding as you collected your thoughts. “It…” you started nervously. “It’s so strange, the way I feel about you. At first, I thought you must have hated me. Why else were you always out to get me with your pranks and your jests? Or your mocking, flirting comments? But as soon as I addressed it, you were so quick to stop…” You looked back at him, and he nodded, begging you to continue. Encouraged, you took a breath.

“And then that night, the night we captured Aevar Godfred, and you patched up my hand… You looked so beautiful then. Your kindness made me feel so many different things, so many things that I haven’t felt in quite some time, if at all. And your words, oh your words!” You chuckled, both frustrated and amused at your current plight. “Every time you speak such beautiful words to me, it’s like reading poetry. But even ink on paper cannot compare to the things you speak of sometimes. And your smile is like starlight; it makes the sun hide away, knowing it cannot shine half as bright. You make me feel so many different things that I cannot begin to explain or understand, Kíli. And it hurts me to see you hurt because of my struggling mind. But I don’t know what to call these things I feel towards you, I really don’t.”

You had gone from smiling to now sad again, realizing that despite getting all of these feelings off of your chest, you still didn’t understand what they meant. Kíli opened his mouth to speak, his eyes glittering again as the stars above reflected in them, but you cut him off short. “But I can’t keep avoiding you anymore, not if it hurts you like this. But I also can’t bear to part from you. My heart, it aches for your smile, for your voice, it aches for you.” You were starting to realize just what your words and feelings met, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit you might be in love with him until you heard him answer you.

“Oh, amrâlimê,” he smiled, tucking some wisps of your hair back behind your ear. His voice was so delicate as he spoke, and your eyes widened at the use of his native tongue. You had no idea what he had said, and wanted to ask, but knew it wasn’t the time. Not now, at least, when you awaited his answer. Your eyes searched his, anxious and confused at his smile as you awaited his answer. “Only you can be the one to say what this feeling is, but I can finally admit in confidence that I too feel the same.” He brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently, despite them smelling of fish.

“You’ve set my heart on fire,” he said. “And no matter how you try to put it out, there will always still be at least one ember burning brightly, smoking only for you. My heart burns for you, amrâlimê. I burn for you.”

“You know your heart so well,” you smiled, feeling immensely happy at his words. “But how can you know for sure that it is I who it belongs to?”

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you two even moreso, his left hand coming to rest on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch as he wiped a runaway tear away. “You might not like this, but I’ve known it ever since I hid your clothes that day in the river.” You laughed, finding yourself amused by this.

“Really?” You chuckled, poking fun. “Making me miserable made you fall for me?”

He grinned, laughing. “I was never doing it to make fun. Well, maybe a little. But every comment, every joke, every prank, that was my way of telling you I liked you, though I’m a little embarrassed that they were interpreted so wrongly.”

“Every comment?” You mused. “Even the ones about wanting to see me-”

“Yes, but that’s not the point right now,” he cut you off, embarrassed. “Those words are for a different mood entirely, not right now. But yes… They were all true.” He muttered the last sentence, avoiding your eyes as you laughed. It was all falling into place in your mind. How could you have been so stupid, so blind by your determination towards the mission?

“Kíli…” you breathed, and his eyes met yours once more as you looked at him nervously. “Can I kiss you?”

He smiled, all too happy at the question. “Of course, amrâlimê. Always, now and forever.”

And slowly, as your eyes darted between his own and his lips, you leaned in, meeting his lips in a soft and light kiss. The act itself was quite foreign to you, but it felt right. Gingerly, your hand went up to his face, and his other hand moved up to gently place itself over your hair as your lips danced together in a beautiful song sung by the words you two had just exchanged. His lips were slightly worn and rough from the journey, but you didn’t care as you wrapped your injured hand around the back of his neck for support as you leaned in. It was such a lovely thing between you, a token of your mutual feelings for one another, that you thought you could kiss him like this forever. But all too soon, you pulled away at the sound of much heavier footsteps, your senses going on alert. Kíli did too, taking a step back to look behind him.

“What’s going on down there?” It was Dwalin, and he sounded quite annoyed. “You two have taken so long we thought you drowned.”

Kíli laughed and you breathed a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been some stranger. “I can assure you, we didn’t drown!” He called back, causing you to look away in embarrassment, eagerly grabbing the fish.

“Well if you don’t hurry back, then I’ll make sure it happens myself!” Dwalin warned, casting a disappointed glare before finally leaving the riverbank. You sighed again, this time out of anxiety. But the grin of a madman that lied on Kíli’s face was more than enough to raise your spirits again.

“Amrâlimê,” he said, walking up to you as he grabbed the remainder of the fish from your hunt. “I love you. And I understand if you need more time to think upon it, but I want you to know how I feel. I’ve never been more sure of anything. When we’re back home, I want to show you just what you mean to me, if that’s alright with you.”

You drew a breath, finding yourself speechless at his declaration of love. Thinking for a moment and silently thankful he would give you time to think, you nodded with an eager smile. “Then I’ll be waiting for that day, when it comes.”

Finally, after two months since capturing Aevar, your group had completed the long journey back to the mountain halls of Erebor. It all seemed so long ago from when you had all first set off on this trek, parts of it fading off into distant memory.

You all had been welcomed warmly by Balin and Thorin, and upon the sight both Kíli and Dwalin seemed overjoyed to be back home to their lives and their friends and their families. You and Sigfred were both glad that the journey was now over, but it seemed as though the both of you felt out of place within the stone caverns. After all, you had only come as aid; this wasn’t your home. Though home, for the both of you, seemed so far away. A selfish part of you would’ve preferred to stay here and not worry about the troubles of Gondor, but you could tell Sigfred was itching to return to his homelands in the Wilderland.

Hours later, you were all summoned to a meeting with Thorin, most likely to discuss your success, your rewards, and the new objectives surrounding Aevar Godfred. You weren’t too excited about having to travel back home with him; it was safe to say you had barely tolerated the journey thus far with the cowardly thief. But for tonight, you could relax. After all, there was to be a banquet held in your group’s honor, a celebration of the return of the royal jewels (with tighter security, of course).

Slowly, you came into a side room of one of Erebor’s many halls, finding yourself in a sort of gathering area, a war room of sorts. A strong stone table lined the middle of the room, and you could see Kíli already seated at the end of it. Everyone else had yet to arrive, and you found yourself growing nervous at being alone in the room with the prince. Butterflies tickled inside you as you made your way closer to him, and his eyes lit up upon seeing you. Gods, those deep brown eyes that had you hooked since you first saw them. Only now instead of rivalry and arrogance, love lay behind them.

“Amrâlimê, there you are.” He smiled, standing out of his seat to pull your own chair out for you. Taking your place next to him, you returned the smile as you sat down. “Will you be joining me at the banquet tonight?”

“The banquet?” You said. “I’d like to, yes. But I’m not sure I have anything to wear for such an occasion.”

“Nonsense, you’re perfect the way you are,” he smiled, taking your hand in his as he placed a gentle kiss on it. You couldn’t bite back the smile that crept onto your face again.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you that-” And just before you could tell the prince how you truly felt, in walked the rest of your party.

“My apologies for my lateness,” Thorin said, followed closely behind by Dwalin and Balin as he sat at the head of the table. Balin, carrying four large pouches, stood beside him. Dwalin sat down just as Sigfred entered, and soon the entire party was seated. “Now, onto business.”

The meeting droned on for about an hour or two, as it began with you all recounting your journey to the King Under the Mountain. You told him all about the journey of capturing Aevar, who you were told was locked away in the dungeons. The whole time, Thorin was silent, his stare unreadable. Finally, after finishing your recollection, he nodded to Balin, who gave each of you one of the heavy pouches. Peeking inside, your eyes widened at the glittering jewels which lay inside. Thorin was no cheat when it came to rewards; this was more than you had ever expected!

“And now to our next ordeal,” he said, and you returned your gaze to the king. “We sent word to Gondor shortly after you left, asking what we were to do with the prisoner. They still request he return with Y/N to Gondor, but not before they send a caravan to aid in the journey back. We expect them to arrive within the next few days.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, both relieved and upset about the opportunity to return home. Though you missed the White City, you knew that it also meant parting from Kíli, something you weren’t ready to do just yet.

“Y/N, we’ve arranged a room for you to stay here for the time being until the caravan arrives.” Thorin said. You nodded in respect.

“Thank you,” you said. It was all you could let out.

“As for you, Sigfred,” the king turned to the tall man, who seemed much uncomfortable in the stone chair, though he tried his best not to show it. “It seems this is where your service ends. On behalf of Erebor, we thank you. You are welcome anytime within our gates.”

The two men shared a nod of respect, and soon the king stood tall. Or as tall as one could when he was 5’2”.

“I shan’t keep you all any longer. This group is now dismissed, but leave not before treating yourselves to tonight’s banquet, as a token of our thanks to you.” And with a strong nod, he dismissed himself, leaving the room with Balin trailing behind. Sigfred was the next to leave, followed by Dwalin shortly after. You rose from your seat, about to leave when a hand took yours.

It was Kíli. “Y/N, you had something to say earlier, before everyone came in?” He stepped closer towards you, and you had to push away the sad thoughts as best as you could. You didn’t want to risk crying in front of him again.

“Ah, right,” you said, chewing your cheek to keep your voice from breaking. “I’ll be leaving soon, it seems.”

He nodded, sensing your sadness. He shared it. “Yes, it seems so.”

“But I…” you swallowed. “I don’t think I’m ready to go, Kíli.”

He stepped forward again, his hand cupping your cheek. “What is it, my love? What troubles you?” His voice was so soft, and you couldn’t help the tears that slipped past your eye.

“I love you, Kíli,” you breathed. “And I feel so selfish because it’s taken me so long to figure it out and yet I still have to leave.” Tears fell from your eyes as you looked down at the man who had stolen your heart. But he only smiled at you. A small smile, one that hid sadness with hope.

“Amrâlimê,” he spoke. “There is no one else who could occupy my heart the way that you have, and even distance couldn’t change that.” Both of his hands now clasped themselves around yours as he brought them to his heart. “I am yours, Y/N.”

Desperately, you leaned in with the need to feel his lips on yours, and he was much obliged to provide such a thing for you. “Can we just…” you breathed. “For tonight, can we pretend that I’ll stay? Please? Just for tonight.”

He gently placed a kiss on your lips, a smile gracing his features. “As you wish. Tonight, I won’t leave your side. I am yours for as long as you want me.”

The banquet raged on all throughout the night as the flames of the torches and lanterns burned brightly within Erebor. The kingdom was joyous and generous in their celebrations, it seemed, as you witnessed several arrays of meats, meads, and cheeses served on long tables full of drunken dwarves. You relished each bite that came your way, knowing you hadn’t been treated to a feast like this for a while since your journey. Cheers and laughter rang loudly in tandem with the music, of which Kíli was helping to supply. For as long as you had gotten to know him, you found yourself still surprised by him as he wielded a fiddle before you, his smile so wide his eyes squinted tightly when he did. Even the ever-grumpy Dwalin found himself strumming the viol in the throng of musicians that bordered the ballroom!

Which of course, leads us to discuss the ballroom. A huge space in the middle of the banquet’s hall, dwarves and dwarrowdams alike danced like fire lay at their feet, their movements and jumps in accordance with the strong beat of the music that echoed off of the bedrock walls of Erebor. Even Sigfred, who hadn’t shown any hint of a smile on your journey, was cheering wildly as he dragged you onto the dancefloor with him, his tall stature helping to make space for the two of you to dance in the crowd. It was a wonderful night, and you had quite forgotten your troubles of hours earlier.

Soon, you felt arms wrap around your waist, and you turned just in time for Kíli to give you a cheeky wink and whisk you off away from Sigfred in a dance of your own, your bodies syncing up with the rhythm as laughter kept your bodies moving to the beat. Your hands never left his as he jumped about, his hair creating a mess all over his face as his smile grew a slight sheen of sweat from his abundance of movements. Though you were one to talk, as you were sure you were quite sweaty yourself from all the movements you had been putting your body through on the dance floor.

Soon, the previous song ended, and you dragged Kíli off of the floor and back towards the end of the hall where the food and drink lay, your body desperately needing water. Quickly, you found a pitcher, bringing it to your lips.

“My, you’re so quick on your feet! I didn’t take you for a dancer, my love,” he grinned, taking the pitcher from you as he stole a gulp for himself. Gods, you still found yourself getting giddy every time he called you his love.

“And I didn’t take you for a musician,” you said. “You surprised me!”

He smirked, winking at you. “Well, I can guarantee there’s plenty more where that came from.”

You took back the pitcher, raising a brow in curiosity. “Oh? Like what?”

He offered his hand, leaning in closer, a newfound mischievous glint in his eye. “I can show you, but first, why don’t we find somewhere a little more private?” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing their hidden meaning as you set the pitcher down and took his hand, eager to follow with a grin.

He led you through the twists and turns of the stone-carved halls until he eventually brought you through a pair of deep oaken doors to what looked like a beautifully carved bedroom. The stone bed that lay in the center of the room was wide and exquisite, draped with fabric that formed a canopy above the soft mattress below. Shields decorated the walls, along with Kíli’s sword and bow hung on a wall to the left. A fire lay glowing in the fireplace to the right, which glittered with gems that were embedded in the mantelpiece. Another door lay to the right, one that you figured led to the bathroom. This must have been his own bedroom.

He guided you with him as he sat at the foot of the bed, with you taking your seat next to him. “I tried to make it more comfortable, wondering if you’d ever join me here.” He said, and you smiled, still tipsy from the ale as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s gorgeous in here, Kíli. They tell no lies about dwarven hospitality.” You sighed, letting your back hit the mattress until you sat up quickly. Kíli raised a brow.

“What’s wrong?” He said.

“It seems I’m quite winded from dancing,” you said, feeling the back of your shirt. “I’m in need of a proper wash.” You sighed to yourself, amused by how hard you had been going during the party. Kíli took this as an opportunity to feel his own tunic, laughing at his own sweat.

“You’re not the only one, then.” He said. “If you’d like, I can draw you a bath.”

You raised a brow. “You won’t wash up?”

“After you, amrâlimê,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll let you have the hot water first.” You leaned into his touch, smiling. Ever the gentleman, he was, as he got up from where he was seated to go run the bath. But with some new courage, you stood up to follow him, gently taking his arm.

“Or,” you said slowly, stepping closer over the shorter man.

“Or?” He questioned, stepping closer and closing the gap between you two as a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “Or what?”

“Or maybe,” you continued. “We could share the hot water? Together?”

“Together?” He said a bit too eagerly, a cough escaping him as he tried to hide his reaction. You smiled at this. “Together, together! Amrâlimê, I’d love to.” He couldn’t hide his grin, too excited about the idea.

“Good,” you said. “So why don’t you draw the bath and I’ll join you in a few minutes?” He shook his head all too eagerly, like a puppy dog when you mention the words “treats”. Quickly, he left you to prepare the bath, and soon you realized just how fast your heart was beating. Where had this sudden boldness come from? You chalked it up to the energy of the party mixing with this ale in your system; yes, that had to be it.

Soon, after ridding yourself of your party clothes (a.k.a. the clothes you had been traveling in for the past few months) and finding a towel to cover up with, you gently knocked on the door to the washroom, your heart hammering in your chest. You heard a distant hum from Kíli on the other side, and took it as your sign to enter.

Opening the door to the dimly lit room, you smiled at the sight of so many candles lit, their flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. A waft of warm, steamy air hit your face as you entered, a relaxing sigh drawing from your lungs at the scent of the woodsy oils he must have used for the water. It was at the end of the room where Kíli sat in the tub, suds covering him as the ends of his hair were damp, a soft smile on his face as his eyes welcomed you in. You felt all warm inside, he made you feel so safe.

Which was good for your nerves, as was the dim lighting, as you crept closer to the tub until you were now standing in front of him. He looked at you with admiration in his eyes as he offered his hands to ease you into the tub. Gently, you took them, letting the towel fall to the floor and trying so hard to meet his gaze as you heard a small gasp leave his lips. Slowly, you crept into the tub, and he guided you to sit in front of him, leaning your back against his chest as he peppered your shoulder with kisses and soothing rubs.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispered in between kisses. “You’re beautiful…”

“Really?” You asked, a part of yourself feeling unsure as to believe him.

“Even the greatest masters of stone in Erebor could not carve a figure as divine as yours,” he said, and you felt your face heat up. You couldn’t help the smile that slipped into your face. “Mahal took great care when he thought of you, my darling.”

“Let me see you,” you said, now eagerly wanting to gaze upon your newfound love. You turned your head to look at him, to which he chuckled as he sat up straighter in the warm waters of the tub. You twisted yourself now to face him, your eyes transfixed on his own figure, which was worn and weathered with hair and scars of years past. His body was history itself, like a book you so desperately wanted to read. Carefully, you hovered your hand over his chest before letting it land right over his heart. His heartbeat was steady; so calm, so soothing. You could fall asleep listening to it.

“It beats for you, amrâlimê,” he said, bringing your gaze back up to his face. “Only you.”

You leaned closer, dangerously closer, as your other hand went up to cup his cheek. Your noses touched from how close you two had gotten, and you thought that you wouldn’t be able to breathe unless he exhaled. Your eyes flitted to his lips for a split second, but the young prince keenly caught it. “Show me,” you said, and with those words you began a wild night for yourself.

Kíli closed the gap between you two, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that was slow and full of young love. His hands roamed from your face to your shoulders until they found their places in the curve of your hips, holding you closer to him. In an effort to be more comfortable, you sat between his outstretched legs, sitting back on your knees in the sudsy water. He smiled into the kiss, a culmination of all his feelings for you taking over as your hands reached his hair, tugging lightly. That was all the encouragement he needed.

Pulling you closer, the kiss slowly became more intense, filled with more passion and even more pent up urges. His thumbs carved their prints in your hips, and you let out a small whine from the feeling. Quickly, he pulled back, chest heaving from lack of breath as concern laced his brow. “Is everything alright? Did I hurt you?” His eyes darted across your features as you flushed in the dim room.

“Quite the opposite, I promise.” You said. “Do it again.” And with a crazed smile, he dove back into your lips.

Soon his tongue made a quick swipe between your lips, and you let him in with open arms and a drawn out whine as he deepened the kiss between you, your tongues dancing with each other as you found yourself hooked on his taste. You wanted more of it, and desperately.

Wanting to change it up, you moved your kisses to his jaw, trailing down lower and lower until you found your perfect battlefield: the little dip between his neck and his shoulder. With eager intensity, you bit down softly, tracing little kisses and bites wherever you could, resulting in a breathy groan leaving his lips. “Y/N…” his voice whined, needy and full of want, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you came back up.

“Yes?” You feigned innocence, wrapping your arms around his neck as you looked down at your love, and he sat up, his grip on your hips tightening a little as he found his opportunity to attack your own neck.

You gasped as the touch, a small sigh leaving your lips as he placed love bite after love bite until he found the one spot that left you weak. “Fuck,” you breathed out a moan and you felt him smile against your skin. “I need you, Kíli. Please.”

“Begging already?” He smiled. “Amrâlimê, we only just started. Now relax, my love. I’ve barely begun.”

A small huff left your lips as his own returned to your neck, peppering in a few more bites that would later develop into beautiful bruises before trailing down to your breasts. His touch as delicate as his tongue darted out to lick a stripe over your nipple before taking it into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the swell of it as his eyes never left yours. Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself growing more and more needy, rubbing your legs together for some sort of friction as the warm water was beginning to feel much, much hotter. Your hands dug into his hair, tugging and twirling as his tongue danced shapes over the swell of your breast, biting softly. A moan escaped your lips in surprise.

His hands now moved from your hips to your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart as you helped him spread your legs. His calloused fingers, which were softened by the water, traced circles on the inner part of your thighs, slowly inching their way closer and closer to your heated core. “Come now, Y/N,” he purred, pressing a kiss to your breast before shifting to give the other one some attention. “You can get louder, can’t you?”

With a shaky breath, you nodded, and he smiled in return, his fingers ghosting along your slit until he gently pressed one further, allowing it to slide into you with ease. You couldn’t help the delicious groan that left your lips as you finally began to feel some sort of stimulation down there that you desperately needed, your hips rocking to swallow his finger up to the very knuckle. You wanted more, and he was more than happy to oblige, dipping a second finger into you as his thumb found your clit, delicately tracing shapes onto it. You clenched around his fingers as they slid in and out of you with curved expertise.

“That feels so good,” you mewled, your voice carrying out as a whine, and you were rewarded with a kiss as Kíli brought his lips to yours. His fingers slowly began to quicken their pace, his thumb never leaving your most sensitive bundle of nerves as his lips enveloped yours in a sloppy kiss. You broke away, needing to breathe as soft moans and pants left your lips. “Faster, please Kíli.”

“As you wish, my love,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your jawline as his fingers now curled inside your tight walls, the water beneath you sloshing with his rapid movements as his thumb continued its unrelenting attack on your clit. “I only exist to please you. That’s all I want to do right now.” You could feel yourself building up inside, the tension pulling at every nerve in your body as you could sense you were almost ready to snap. You looked down at him with hungry eyes, now seeing that he too was quite aroused, his erection poking out of the waters as he worked his magic on you. But just as you were about to bring it up, you felt yourself snap, a string of broken moans and whines leaving your lips as your vision blurred for a split second and you felt yourself come completely undone. But Kíli didn’t stop there, no. He continued his torture, keeping up his pace to allow you to ride out your high until he slowly came to a stop, pulling his fingers out of you.

You fell forward onto him and his strong arms caught you, tucking away some of the hair that had fallen in your face. He looked at you again with awe, drawing you in for a chaste kiss. “You look so beautiful when you’re wrapped around my fingers,” he said, a smile on his lips. But you weren’t done, no. You brought him in for a kiss of your own, a needy groan resounding in his throat as your fingers delicately went down to wrap themselves around his length. He shuddered at the touch, and that one act of his was more than enough to make you ready for another round of fun.

Gently, you ran your hand up and down the length of his shaft, bringing your thumb up to rub small circles over his slit, which was eagerly leaking pre-cum in your hand. “Please, amrâlimê, I can’t handle your teasing,” he whined.

“Begging already, are we?” You whispered in a mocking tone, mimicking his words from earlier as you lowered your face to his solid member, placing a kiss on his swollen tip. His breathing hitched, his eyes clouded with want. “But I thought we were only getting started?” His hips raised out of the water to give you better access as you placed teasing kisses along the length of him, your tongue licking a stripe that led you back to his tip until you took him into your mouth. He moaned loudly at the touch, his hips bucking ever-so-noticeably, and you felt so powerful in this moment. Slowly, you lowered your head along his length, wanting to see just how much of him you could take into him before you swallowed around him, causing him to curse.

“A-amrâlimê,” he stuttered. “Please.” His voice was so breathy, so whiny. You loved it.

Slowly, you began bobbing your head along his shaft, your hands busy with keeping your body from falling over him as your hair fell in your face. Ever the gentleman he was, he was quick to tuck your hair back and grasp it in his fist, careful not to force your head despite how much he wanted to feel you gag on him. His hips bucked again as you kept getting faster and faster, wanting to bring him to completion before he quickly grabbed your throat, forcing you to meet his face as he brought you in a forced kiss.

You pulled away to look at him as his chest rose and fell dramatically, breath leaving his body in his aroused state. “Did you not want me to-” You spoke in a confused lilt, but he cut you off.

“No, not before I feel you again,” he breathed. “I’m already jealous that I didn’t get to taste you first, my love.” You smiled, chuckling as you brought his hands to your hips again, letting him guide you over his length. There you hovered, bringing him in for a kiss in the hopes it would distract you from any pain that was soon to come.

“Kíli, I love you,” you breathed in between kisses. “I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me as badly as I do now with you.” His tip rubbed against your core, and you let out a small whine. “Please, I need to feel you inside me already.”

“Oh Mahal…” That was all the motivation he needed, it seemed, for soon he sunk you quickly onto his length, splashing some water around you as you cried out at the delicious feeling of him stretching you out, his length already reaching places you had yet to even discover about yourself. You let out a string of curses, all moans, as you clenched around him in delicious pleasure. Gods, he felt amazing. You rolled your hips over him, craving some more of that delicious friction you had felt earlier, and you felt him shudder again. Gods, it turned you on to see his eyes glazed over like that, looking at you with such want and love that you wanted to consume him.

“Amrâlimê, let me show you just how much I feel for you,” he said. “Let me take care of you.” Slowly, he rolled his hips in tandem with your own, slipping in and out of you with ease as his thumb quickly found purchase over your clit again, rubbing slowly in tandem with his thrusts. The water around you sloshed and splashed with your movements, but that was the least of your cares as pleasure rocked through you, tearing you piece by piece until you were nothing but putty to be kneaded by the man you loved, who thrusted into you with increased pace with each movement. He was hitting every spot inside you, filling you so deliciously until he eventually found your sweet spot inside, causing a moan to rip from your lungs.

“Fuck, Kïli,” you said, your mind melting and only thinking of the pleasure he was bringing you as his own moans rang in your ears. “Right there, please. Don’t stop!” You felt that same pressure building up in you, the tension pushing and pulling as you looked at Kíli with lust-filled eyes. His own eyes met your gaze as he planted more kisses on and between your breasts, biting and pinching at the skin as he maintained his pace, but he too was beginning to feel the tension you had so intensely started earlier.

With shared moans that echoed and bounced off of the stone walls, you found yourself coming undone around Kíli, pleasure taking over as he helped you once again ride out your second orgasm. Your skin felt like it was going numb while being on fire all at once, and you relished every moment of it with ragged breathing. With a few more thrusts, Kíli too came, pulling out of you just in time to avoid any unprecedented consequences as his back hit the walls of the tub, his breathing uneven as he gently pulled you into him, kissing all over your face which held a small sheen of sweat from both the party and your latest festivities.

“I’ve wanted this for a while now,” he said, his voice soft as he kissed your forehead. “It seems as though all my thoughts of you are improper as of late.” You chuckled, leaning into his touch.

“Well then we’ll have to spend more time exploring those thoughts, now won’t we?” You teased, and a fired up groan sprang from Kíli’s lips as he brought you into another kiss.

“I’d love nothing more, amrâlimê.”

And for a while, you two stayed like this, with not a care in the world of whatever was going on in it. For now, you could focus on nothing other than the intermingling of your two heartbeats. Time seemed to slow down for you two as the candlelight danced on the walls, and you were content. Because in this moment, nothing else mattered except for you and your son of Durin. Not the fact that soon you would have to leave Erebor entirely, nor the fact that there were probably some people searching for you two at the banquet. All that mattered right here, right now, was how much you were in love with this man and wanted to be with him. Nothing else.

“Come on,” your love said. “Now we really need to wash up.”

[the-pen-pot]

Erebor Never Fell AU (Hobbit)

Ohhhh, this one's a tiny little idea that keeps growing when my back is turned. I've not technically started it yet, but here's a little synopsis:

Bilbo Baggins and his mother leave the Shire after his father's death, as Belladonna has little left to live for but adventure. Unfortunately, she falls afoul of a cruel prince, a man who is used to taking what he wants.

In the ensuing struggle, both she and the prince lose their lives, and it is Bilbo who wielded the blade which avenged his mother.  Taken prisoner and accused of murder, his sentence is to be the king’s food-taster. His eyes are bound, as he is unfit to look upon the Men who imprison him, and every day he is dosed with poison and every evening given enough antidote to keep him alive.  

Such is his existence, until the day his Master takes him to Erebor as part of his retinue, and he discovers the promise of a future among the dwarves who live there. Especially the eldest dwarven prince, Thorin Oakenshield.

 (Erebor never fell AU with political intrigue, and Bilbo Baggins finding friends when he thought there was no one left in the world who cared for him at all.)

Thanks for the ask, lovely!

WIP Ask Meme here

[just-some-sad-bitch]

I dont care if bagginshield is a ship of the past, if no one reads this or finds it I DONT CARE I NEED TO WRITE THIS DOWN BULLET POINT STYLE.

Ok so this is an AU where Erebor was never attacked by Smaug, the ring doesn’t exist and dragon sickness is related to like old age and long exposure to gold rather than a curse that haunts the line of Durin.

In this AU, as I said, Smaug didn’t get to Erebor but was taken down in Dale. This results on a disaster to both kingdoms because while dale was dependent of Erebor for trade, gold, etc. Erebor heavily depended on Dale for its food, sure the kingdom had cattle and what not but in the midst of the disaster Erebor begins to suffer.

Thranduil is still an asshole and states that he owes nothing to either men o Dwarf.

So, regent king Thrain strikes a deal with the only kingdom that responds to their call: The Shire

Of corse the shire doesn’t respond out of the goodness of their heart, they are in dire need of protection. It is well known that hobbits are a peaceful race, rarely conflictive and with no actual army, they see no need for it for they have no enemies, however, in the last few years goblins have stationed themselves on the blue mountains and when they see fit, they attack the shire and everyone in it.

So the Thain and King Thrain strike a deal

Erebor will send an army to provide protection against the goblins, possibly chasing them out of the Blue Mountains and getting to keep the new mountain

In return, the shire will build a road that leads directly to Erebor making sure to have a direct way of sending food and supplieas all year round

Both kingdoms sharing their surplus, strong armies and nurturing food

However the deal must be strengthened by more than paper and ink, and so a marriage is in order.

The shire will send the Thains grandson to become the master of agriculture of Erebor and marry the second son of the house of Durin, Frerin the golden

FINALLY with all this convoluted background I present you:

Bilbo arrives after years of building the great road that unites the two kingdoms, he is obvs accompanied by Gandalf the grey and dozens of caravans filled with grain, cattle and rich soil

Waiting for their arrival is the regent king Thrain who took the role from his father Thror after he fell ill to gold sickness. With him were his family

Lady Dis, known for her character, forwardness and cunningness as well as beauty and strength. and her two sons; Fili, heir to the crown eventually and Kili, his younger brother, the pride and joy of the kingdom

Thorin, crown prince of Erebor, strong warrior that fought valiantly against the white orc and in his victory earning the title of Thorin Oakenshield. Loyal to his people above anything else and commited to becoming a great king one day.

And of corse the groom, Frerin who had little to say in the matter of his marriage but couldn’t refuse. You see, his older brother will inherit the great kingdom, such promise cannot be waisted on diplomatic endeavors, and his sister, one of the smartest dwarves to ever walk middle earth had already gifted the line of Durin with two strong heirs. So what was he to do? Refuse the only thing that would allow him to show his valor? Of corse not, he was as much prince as his brother and sister, and if his father commanded he be married to an outsider in order to save the kingdom, he would a thousand times.

What he did not expect however, was having his brother fall head over hills for his betrothal upon first meeting. Of corse no one noticed, everyone was too focused of the arrival of the hobbit, but himself and his sister notice right away how Thorin could not stop looking at that creature as if he was the most beautiful being in all of middle earth

The hobbit, however was fat too focused on the king’s speech, the strange surroundings and his wizard companion to notice

He was mad, but similarly to Frerin, he found himself in a situation that he could not escape, his parents were taken by the awful goblins and if being married off is what he had to do in order to save the shire then he will marry whoever and whatever the Thain asked him to

And that’s it, that’s all I got, sorry if grammas is wonky it’s almost 2:00 am and English is my second language, also I was too lazy to review it over. I would love for this story to develop in a way in which Thorin is trying to woo Bilbo while also trying to not Interfere in the deal. Also Bilbo falling in love with thorin but also feeling guilty because were dwarfs marrying for diplomacy is super common, hobbits usually marry for love and I imagine him feeling guilty for loving Thorin while he is supposed fo be marrying Frerin. Also Frerin and Dis egging them on even though they KNOW they shouldn’t. I just imagine this ending with Thorin proclaiming his undying love for Bilbo and both of them being torn between running away and living together but also knowing they have a duty to their respective kingdoms. Of cors everything would work out in the end but Idk

If someone has a similar fic to this please please please share it with me I AM STARVING. Anyway thanks for reading bye!!!

[bagginshieldweek24]

Bagginshield Week is fast approaching!

We’re less than a week away from the beginning of Bagginshield Week 2023, keep reading to find out everything you may need to know and remember!

All kinds of platonic, romantic and sexual relationships between Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are welcomed, included open relationships, so long as they are the focus. Likewise, all canons and headcanons are accepted!

All mediums are allowed, included mixed media, and there is no official minimum that your work must fill! Also, all ratings and warnings and such are accepted, so long as you tag accordingly!

Two prompts are given for each day of the event as well as two alternate prompt lists, and you can use as many of them, combine any of them as you wish, I only ask that you mention which ones you’re using in any specific work. You can also make as many works as you want/can.

You can post in any platform, but as the event mod, I will only be able to work with Tumblr and Archive of Our Own: for Tumblr you can make a post containing your work or a link to it, and you have to tag your posts #thilboweek23 so that I can find them more easily; for AO3, you can find the collection here https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bagginshield_week_23

You can post your works from June 4th to June 12th (the official event dates are June 4th to June 10th, plus two extra days).

The prompts are: Fairytale AU and Domestic for Day 1; Bilbo in Erebor and Piercings & Tattoos for Day 2; Pride & Prejudice AU and Blade/Sword for Day 3; Nautical/Pirate AU and The Moon/The Sun for Day 4; Ghibli AU and Hobbit Culture for Day 5; Erebor Never Fell and Flowers/Flower Language for Day 6; Everybody Live/Nobody Dies and Haunted House/Castle/Palace for Day 7.

The prompts for the Whump Alternate List are: Believed to be Dead; Nightmares/Hallucinations; Silence; Left Behind; Hidden Injury.

The prompts for the Regular Alternate List are: Courtship; Secret Relationship; Thorin is an Errant Smith; Meeting the Family; Enchantments/Spells.

If you need more specific information look here: https://www.tumblr.com/bagginshieldweek23/710619673617629184/bagginshield-week-2023-guideline-dates-prompts?source=share

Now, as for posting in Archive of Our Own, a word or two:

If you already have works ready and want to leave them to cool in drafts, ready to be posted on the day, for the moment, a friendly reminder to reset the date of it once said day comes! Otherwise it will be posted considering the date in which it was uploaded and will appear along with those stories, and might lose momentum, sort of speak. You can readjust the date of publication in the Associations section when you’re uploading/editing your work:

On the other hand, with the rise of AIs and, more importantly, with the “threat”, for lack of a better word, of your work being used by third parties through them, AO3 has given the general advice to private works, that is to make them accessible only to other signed users. If you wish to do so I have no issue, and you can set it up in the Privacy section in the uploading/editing page:

For those posting in other platforms, I can only ask you to tag accordingly, and to either make a promo post on Tumblr, or send me any links you wish to share through asks, and if you don’t use Tumblr but an acquaintance of yours does, they can send it in instead. As you may see if you’ve read the previous event post, I didn’t set up an email address nor a Discord server; I have my reasons for that, but hopefully this should be solve by the next event.

Other than that, I can only say that I cannot wait to see what any of you make, and to wish you best of lucks, Company!

[ahobbitinerebor]

Pre Game Plot

As this game is technically an everyone lives AU, here is a simply story to help you understand what happened to get us here!

Warning: a small amount of fantasy war.

...

Thorin fell to the icy ground with a grunt, the pale orc bringing his blade down from above him aimed at his chest. His reaction was that of instinct and the clang of steel hitting steel filled the air as the dwarven king used the last of his strength to hold back the foul creatures attack with Orcrist. His arms shook and his body burned but the vision of a honey curled hobbit stood in the back of his mind, forcing him to keep going, to survive. Though as the snow began to fall around them and his dwarven strength weakened, his will was slowly crumbling down to the earth with it. He could hear Dwalin somewhere in the battle behind him and the sharp voice of his hobbit a few levels down the narrow cliffs, but alone he stood against his enemy. Or so he thought.

The arrow hit before its whistle met Thorin’s ears, the sharp steel imbedding itself into the orcs flesh. The beast stumbled, its focus lost and not gained quick enough to dodge the glittering steel that cut through its throat. Thorin’s vision was blinded with the splatter of black blood as the beast’s head come off only returning to the sight of a pair of two worried eyes watching him from above. One a deep hazel, the other bluer that the depth of the ocean.

“Fili? Kili?” he questioned with a quiver in his voice.

The young dwarrow only grinned in return, bringing their uncle towards them in a desperate embrace.

And just like that, the battle was won.

The orcs fled, the races of men and elf were met with honor and aid for their allyship, the dwarves retuned to the mountain, and soon things began to heal. Soldiers healed their wounds and minds. Food healed hungry bellies. The mountain healed her stone and hallways. All things seemed well in the world once again. All things but one. The charcoaled earth that surrounded the mighty dwarven mountain, scorched by the hatred and hunger of the fire drake refused to bear life once more. Thorin took note of the way his husband’s eyes would skim over the lifeless dirt with anguish (and how the distributions of food grew smaller with each delivery, Erebor’s and Dale’s dependency on the elves supplies slowly wearing thin) and an idea began to form in his mind. So when Bilbo returned to the shire to collect what belongings he deemed worthy of bringing back to the Lonely Mountain, the small hobbit returned with not only a crate of old toby he had lost in a bet with Nori, but with three other hobbits, all wide eyed and open to wondrous possibilities. Though he had asked for three dozen, only three were willing to leave the cozy life of the Shire to help regrow the life around Erebor. But three would be enough, for Thorin had long ago learnt you should never underestimate a hobbit.

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Eighteen

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: Battle violence, death, nothing too graphic

Rating: T 

Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

He stared at her. 

Kaia was all too aware of the pale blue eyes that had been on her since the moment the gaunt man swept into the courtyard of the White Tower. She didn't have to turn and look at him. The burning on her back told her he stared. 

She’d never seen him before and she knew that if she had, she certainly would have remembered him. Tall. Long, almost flowing white hair and beard, dressed in immaculate white robes that seemed to glow around him. 

And yet, he stared at her as if he knew her, but could not place her. She tried to ignore it, but after a while, it troubled her more than the wounds on her arm did, so she crossed the rain-dampened courtyard to stand before him. “Excuse me?”

The gaunt man looked down at her. “Yes?”

“Have you a problem with my being here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you think I’ve not noticed you?” She held his piercing gaze with only a hint of discomfort. “You keep looking over at me and if you are troubled by my being here, I’d like to know what it is.”

“I’m not at all troubled by you, my lady,” he replied, his voice low and almost soothing. “I was simply wondering how your mother fared these days.”

“My—my mother?” Her stomach twisted slightly. 

“Aye. You look very much like her.”

“How do you know what my mother looked like?”

“How do I know? I knew her, of course. And your father, also.”

Kaia felt as if she’d been punched in the gut as she just stared up at the old man. “You—you knew him? Knew them? But how?Who are you?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose my name would help, wouldn’t it. I am Gandalf. You were but a wee lass when I last saw you. No more than two summers old. I’m not at all surprised you do not remember me.”

She just stared up at him for a long moment, but before she could say anything, he added, “I was there, at Erebor, when your father fell.”

“You were?”

“Indeed, I was. And he fought bravely. Tell me, how is your mother?”

To Kaia’s surprise, her throat tightened and her eyes stung. She swallowed hard as she shook her head. “She… she was killed in an orc raid the summer before last.”

Gandalf’s eyes widened. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you. I—I wasn't expecting to bump into anyone who knew her. Not here, anyway.”

“Tell me, how did you find your way here from Mirkwood?”

She blinked away the tears and managed a slight laugh. “It’s a long, boring story that ends with my finding the steward’s son and later on joining his brother’s soldiers.”

Those blue eyes widened now. “The steward’s son? You are the woman Boromir brought off the field out there?”

Kaia smiled even as she felt a bit of a pang at hearing his name and tried not to think about where he was, what he was doing at that moment. Nodding, she said, “I am, yes.”

To her surprise, his eyes softened and a hint of a smile creased his already-creased face even more. “And what does the steward think of this?”

“Think of what? I’ve not met him.”

“Think of his son, his heir, bringing a woman home with him.”

She chuckled. “He didn’t bring me home that way, you know.”

“And yet you are here still.” Gandalf glanced out toward Osgiliath. “And I assume you are waiting for his return.”

“You have me there, so,” she chuckled, “I suppose he did bring me home that way.”

“Good. His mother used to worry about him, you know. Afraid he would grow old alone and regret it.”

“I did not know,” she told him, shaking her head. “He does not speak of his mother often.”

“Come.” Gandalf gestured to the center of the courtyard, where a dead tree stood amidst the lush grass surrounding it. “Walk with me.”

She did as he requested, strolling across the courtyard to the low white stone wall surrounding the dead tree. Gandalf sank against the stone. “What has he told you of her? Of his family?”

“Not much at all,” she confessed, also settling on the stone. She glanced up at him. “His brother is younger than he is and his life has been devoted to Gondor’s defense.”

“His mother died when he was but a child and her greatest fear was that Denethor would have him forsake everything else for the glory of Gondor. Denethor cared not of the personal cost, but cared only about keeping Gondor in his grasp. Not that much has changed since then.” Gandalf turned to stare out in the direction of Osgiliath, although all they could see from their vantage point was angry gray sky. “He does not want to relinquish that power. And he made certain to drive that home to Boromir, to remind him at every turn how he will inherit the stewardship, and until now, he has made it clear Gondor comes before everything. Boromir’s mother used to worry that would lead to a very cold and lonely life for him.

“But, you might change that and I can only imagine how Denethor will react to the knowledge that someone other than Gondor has won Boromir’s heart.”

She sighed softly, her eyes stinging as she also stared off toward Osgiliath. “I only wish for him to return safely. I do not think I could bear losing someone else I love.”

His thin, wrinkled hand came to rest on her shoulder. She waited for him to offer up some words of comfort or wisdom, but all he said was, “You may not have the choice.”

“I know. And that’s why it was so much easier before I happened upon that blasted clearing. Now, he is down there and I am here waiting and waiting is not my strong suit. I should be there, fighting alongside him.”

“You are no soldier, though.”

“No. I’m not. I’ve had only a few lessons from Faramir’s second, Madril. Everything else I’ve done, I’ve done alone, out of the need to survive.” She sighed softly, her shoulders slumping as she added, “I’ve fooled myself for a long time, you know. Let myself believe I could take care of myself, but the truth is, the only thing I’m actually good at is running away. I ran when my village was attacked. I ran after I found Boromir—although that was to bring him to safety—and I ran after he and I—”

She stopped abruptly, her cheeks growing hot. “I ran.”

“So stop running.”

“That is easier said than done, you know.” She looked up at him this time, the wind picking up to send her hair flying wildly about her face. Raking her fingers through the curls, she pulled them back. “Although, this time… perhaps it won’t be.”

Beyond the walls of Minas Tirith, there came a great loud rumbling, and what started as a faint hum rose to a clear shout. Kaia and Gandalf both jumped at the sounds, practically sprinting across the courtyard to the far end, where she stopped dead in her tracks and just stared.

What had been an empty field not long ago now held an army of orcs and where they parted, a lone horse moved toward the main gates. Kaia’s heart stopped as she peered down and realized who the wounded man was being dragged along by that horse.

Sweat prickled along her back at the sight of Faramir, in his battle armor, with two arrows protruding from him. The only thing she could do as her belly twisted into sickening knots, was a clap a hand to her mouth and whisper, “Oh… oh, no…”

Both she and Gandalf spun about at the same time and hurried down along the city’s tiers until they reached the Great Gate, where she stepped back as soldiers tended to Faramir, freeing him from his horse’s stirrups to spirit him to a litter and bring him up.

Gandalf went with him, while she stood where she was, waiting to see Boromir as she heard one of Faramir’s men say, “They were outnumbered. None survived.”

Kaia’s knees went to sponge, but she caught herself before they gave way. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head even as the gates slammed shut. “Oh, please… no…”

There had to be some mistake. There simply had to be, because as she’d told Gandalf, she could not lose another person she loved. And until she saw Boromir’s body for herself, she would not believe he was gone. She just couldn’t believe it. 

Men all about her rushed into their positions as a thunderous clanking filled the air. Then came the shouts and she had no idea why anyone was shouting until she looked up and saw what the orc army had fired over Minas Tirith’s walls.

Heads. The heads of the Gondorian soldiers who’d followed Faramir and Boromir back to Osgiliath.

Her gut kinked sharply. A brackish taste flooded her mouth.

She was going to be sick.

This time, when her knees crumpled, she hit the stone with a low moan of pain and as she did, her stomach clenched, twisted, and emptied itself onto the cobblestones before her. She couldn't look. She simply could not bear to see if Boromir’s head—

“No,” she whispered as her stomach revolted once more and she vomited again. 

A shadow fell over her and an arm came about her shoulders, tightening as a woman shouted, “Come! We need to get away from the walls!”

She let the woman tug her to her feet and as they pushed through the throng of people, a second wave of decapitated heads flew over the city walls. With all of the horrors Kaia had seen over the course of her life, nothing would ever compare to this. Nothing ever could. This was beyond her worst imaginings and vile beyond belief. All around her, horrified shrieks blended in one scream of mourning as heads were recognized by loved ones. 

She didn't know who had her arm, but the woman pulled her back, closer to the city’s interior as the first massive boulder slammed into one of the many turrets, knocking a huge chunk free and crumpling the stone as if it was made of sticks. 

“Abandon your posts!” Denethor bellowed, his vice rough and panicky. “Flee! Flee for your lives!”

A dull thwock followed and Denethor went quiet, while Gandalf hollered, “Prepare for battle!”

With those words, Kaia forgot her nausea. Forgot her worry over Boromir. Forgot her own fear. She had had enough. Enough of battle, enough of death, but mostly?

Enough of orcs. 

She shook off the woman still holding her arm as Gandalf thundered by astride a white horse, and without looking back, she hurried back to Boromir’s flat, where she’d left her things. He’d pressed the key into her hand before leaving for the stables, and the lock gave without trouble.

Inside his flat, it was eerily quiet and she paused. Only twenty-four hours had passed since he and Faramir left. That was it. And yet, it felt as if he’d been gone a lifetime already. 

And now, he most likely was not going to return. 

“No,” she whispered, “do not—”

But it was too late. The memories were there, comforting and torturing her all at the same time, beginning when he was but a strange, wounded man lying on her sofa. She didn’t know his name, but that wouldn’t be the truth for long. 

His eyes slid shut again and he drew in a deep breath, then winced and exhaled sharply. “Take care,” she told him. “You’ve had a bit of a go there yesterday.You need to give yourself time to heal.”

Another nod. Then, silence stretched for a few minutes before he murmured, “Boromir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name.”

For the first time since finding him in the clearing, Kaia smiled. “Rest then, Boromir. I’ll return shortly.”

She smiled, remembering the first time she helped him with his trousers. 

She slowly rose, easing the trousers over his hips, and paused as she straightened before him, suddenly very aware of where her hands where and where she was in relation to this half-naked man before her. It was wrong, and she knew it, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but notice how broad his shoulders were and how wide his chest was. He was a warrior, no doubt, for heavy bands of muscle wrapped about his legs, about his shoulders and arms, across his chest. 

The air stirred as she peered up at him, warmer than it had been only minutes earlier, and she realized then that his eyes were not as pale as she’d thought, but were more of a gray-blue, off-set by the honey-gold color of his hair. 

“I think I might manage this on my own.” His low growl—almost a purr, really—broke the thickening tension swirling between them.

“What?” She glanced down at her hands, only a fraction of an inch from his bare skin, and let go of his trousers to step back. “Oh, of course. I beg your pardon.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips as he fastened his trousers, while embarrassed heat swirled through her. “Y-yes, of course. You have this,” she stammered, gesturing to the pot simmering over the fire. “I’ll just let you—that is, I’ll get supper on the table while you… well… I’ll get supper.”

With a soft sigh, she grabbed her sword, pausing in the doorway once more, as her next memory was powerful enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“Of course.” He smiled then. “You know I love you, right?”

Her hand tightened on the sword grips. 

Boromir was not dead. 

She refused to believe it.

Silence.

Boromir’s ears rang with it as he lifted his head and squinted through the smoke, at the utter devastation around him. Forget foolish, trying to reclaim Osgiliath had been beyond idiotic. They didn't stand a chance. 

He eased onto his back with a low groan. Every muscle in his body ached and it was only through divine providence that when his horse threw him, he’d landed amidst stone and rubble and vegetation that had begun claiming Osgiliath’s crumbling stones for itself. If not for that mess, he had no doubt he would have suffered the same fate as so many of his and Faramir’s men. 

Faramir.

He’d seen his brother felled by two arrows that pierced his armor. Faramir toppled from his saddle, but his foot got caught up in the stirrup and before Boromir could get to him, said horse had bolted, dragging Faramir behind him. 

His stomach clenched at the thought of his brother bouncing over who knew how many miles of rutted, rock-strewn field. His eyes closed of their own volition and stung with tears he fought to hold back. Not now, he told himself sternly, shaking his head as he tried to fight down the grief roiling inside him. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. He had to get return to Minas Tirith before it was too late, and that meant shoving all other thoughts aside and focusing on this one single task. Minas Tirith first. Everything else after. 

Slowly, he sat up and looked about, steeling himself to rise. The scars on his thigh ached, the hot burn spreading slowly up into his left hip. With his first step, Boromir bit back an oath at the starburst of pain erupting in that same muscle from which Kaia had pulled not one, but two arrowheads not too many weeks earlier. For a moment, he wondered if he’d been struck again. The pain was that bad. But upon examination, he found no evidence of any arrows anywhere on his person. He’d been lucky, for so many arrows rained down upon them, it was only a miracle he hadn’t been hit.

His head, however, thundered beyond pain, which receded as he paused. His forehead felt damp and when he swept the back of his hand over it, a hot sting erupted in its wake just above his right eye, out toward that temple. He drew his hand away to find himself staring down at the blood smearing it. Wonderful. He had no idea what struck him or what he might have struck when he fell, and he couldn't recall so it was entirely possible that was how he’d fallen from his mount. Or perhaps it had happened when he landed amid the rubble, as his helm was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he’d been struck and lost it before falling. He didn't know and honestly? Thinking about it only hurt more, so it was best to not trouble himself with it at the moment. 

His blade glinted in the dimmed sunlight, and when he crouched and reached with his right arm, another fireball erupted along his upper arm, into his shoulder. The fabric of his sleeve was torn, but he’d thought that was because of the brambles he’d landed in. But, upon closer look, he realized the dark wet stain was not from the river, but from the blood oozing from the chunk taken out of his right shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if some creature had taken a bite of him, the wound shiny and raw and red. But that was silly, of course. The Nazgûl’s fell beasts wouldn’t trouble with that. He had to have been hit either by a misguided arrow or perhaps an axe. He couldn't say. Chaos reigned from the moment they drew within sight of the orcs guarding the city. From that first shower of arrows, until just now, Boromir could remember only bits and pieces of what had happened.

He bit back another oath as he lifted his sword, then tucked it into its scabbard. His legs felt steadier now, but when he found his horse cut down not fifteen feet from him, a heavy sigh rose to his lips, partly for the loss of the animal, but also from the knowledge he now had to get back to Minas Tirith by foot.

But that wasn't the worst part. Just beyond his horse’s body, he found other bodies and, despite his years of experience in battle, his stomach knotted to send a sour taste flooding his mouth. 

The bodies were those of his men and not a single one of them still had its head. He stood there, dazed as he just took in body after body after body. Men with wives, children, families who loved them, who were now huddled in Minas Tirith, hoping they would return safely.

Minas Tirith.

He looked up the, wincing at the sharp pain that streaked through his temples with the sudden moment. Osgiliath was mostly vacant now. The orc army had left a few behind, but as he stood there, trying to wrap his head around the death around him, they had marched on.

To Minas Tirith.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he slid his sword free and started his trek. Any orc he crossed paths with lost his head in return. No battle. No mercy. He simply swung and wherever he cleaved, so be it. 

He paid no mind to the black ooze of orc blood that spattered across him, that stained his cloak or trousers or boots, that slapped him across the face like a spurned suitor. He didn't care. He didn't slow down. He didn't stop. He had almost twenty miles to cover, almost twenty miles between him and his home. Between him and his family. 

Between him and Kaia. 

With Osgiliath and the remaining orcs behind him, and a fresh rain stinging cold against his skin to wash away the remnants of war from his face and hands, Boromir set out for Minas Tirith. 

[lucradiss]

“The minute Thorin walked through the door, Bilbo knew that the world would change.

It was sixty years coming and Bilbo had seen it from the moment they’d met. There was a hardness in Thorin’s eyes that could never be chased, a yearning for a place far from here that Bilbo could never satisfy. There would be a day, he knew, when that yearning would manifest. It was a promise in the way that stories are often promises; Thorin’s words on the beauty of his home, his curses on the wyrm that usurped it, his lament for the well-being of his people as they slowly began to thrive in Ered Luin. It was a promise, though Thorin had never said, that the mountain would be someday reclaimed and restored to its former glory. Thorin would often tell him of Erebor’s great halls and between his words would be his desire to return. Thorin would tell him of the crispness of the air, and within his breaths there was the discontent that always settled beneath his skin.”

Read past paragraph one on AO3!!

New fic alert!! It’s that Bilbo and Thorin Married AU I was talking about awhile ago!! Basically, Bilbo and Thorin fell in love and got married 17 years before the quest began, but due to fear of intolerance and issues with status, they have to keep their marriage secret throughout the journey to Erebor.

Will they be able to keep that secret? Or will their ruse blow up in their faces? Read to find out!

Updates every Sunday!

[sinisterbug]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

I sent this to myself, but since I got it first on my dead dove account legitimately, it doesn't seem TOO tacky to send it to my other pseudonym.

One Piece fandom (these are OLD):

The Nature of Things - Kitchen Confidential/Restaurant AU - ZoSan - Just some smut and drama but no other warnings listed. I'm not listed as co-author and that was per my request during a very bad mental health phase. Comparing myself to my co-author was a good way to hurt myself at the time. I wrote this with Stark_Black, and they have gone on to become a great writer and voice actress. This was a joy to write. I miss Anthony Bourdain.

In Dreams - Versailles AU - ZoSan - No major warnings, some smut. My first big achievement as a fanfiction writer.

The Hobbit fandom (old and new):

Dimensions of the Heart (previously called Third Dimension of the Heart) - Bagginshield, Bilbo/Dain - Everyone Lived Nobody Died AU - Bilbo falls in love with Thorin and Dain. Hijinks ensue. There's a glow worm cave and WONDERFUL art by @tosquinha. Still Incomplete, currently going through re-write/edit.

The Magnificent Centuries - EXPLICIT AND DARK, READ THE TAGS ON AO3 - Harem AU (Erebor never fell)- Bagginshield, Durincest, tons of pairings, much incest - Featuring Thorin/Kili, Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo Baggins must navigate his way to the top of King Thorin' harem. Along the way he faces rivals for Thorin's affections who will go to any lengths to prevent the Hobbit's rise. Meanwhile, Fili struggles with his unrealized love for his brother while doing everything in his power to protect him from the machinations of the harem. He must do this all while not endangering his heir status by challenging or questioning his uncle's authority, or getting too close to Kili.

The Witcher fandom (recent):

We've Already Met - Vesemir/Jaskier, Geralt/Jaskier - Smut - Jaskier already met Vesemir 6 months before meeting Geralt, and they begin a casual sexual relationship based on mutual attraction and desire. Jaskier keeps this affair quiet as he goes on to make the acquaintance of Geralt and begins to travel with him. It becomes clear to Jaskier, after a few years, just who exactly Vesemir is to Geralt. Based on this, Jaskier keeps the secret that much closer for fear of angering Geralt. The bard is fine to balance the occasional tryst with Vesemir when they cross paths and never, ever mention it to Geralt. So it all goes to crap the day that Geralt invites Jaskier to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ambassador to Madness

Rating: NR

Warnings: No warnings as of yet

Status: In-progress (7/?)

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU | Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell | Goldsickness | Slow Burn | Family Drama | Leans a bit towards Fake Marriage AU | Romance | Mystery-esque | First Time | Dwarven Politics

Summary: All Bilbo wanted was to be an ambassador to one of the richest kingdoms in Middle Earth. Upon meeting its prince, his opinion is greatly lessened. However, Bilbo still finds himself agreeing to play the part of his consort to help free Erebor from the gold mad Thror. Turns out, Thror may not be as blind as his grandson thinks, and intends to use Bilbo to get rid of Thorin once and for all.

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New Chapter: Chapter 7- An Appointment for Tea

“Thorin, I went to go see the elves.” Bilbo interrupted.

Both he and Dwalin could only gawk in response.

“They threatened to kidnap you, and you went straight to them?!” Dwalin growled. “By Mahal! Do you have no survival instincts, Hobbit?”

“And how exactly were they going to whisk the Prince Consort out of a dwarven guarded mountain, might I ask?” Bilbo demanded.

He could tell from the expressions on both their faces that they had quite a few thoughts as to how that scenario would transpire, and Bilbo found he didn’t have the patience to sit through the lecture.

“Forget about that for a moment. I’ve learned something about the nature of Thranduil’s temper tantrum, and I’ve made a decision.”

“This ought to be good.” Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“We need to get the White Gems of Lasgalen back for him.”

There was a long pause as both Thorin and Dwalin seemed to be struggling to put into words their incredulity of the statement. Thorin’s lip pulled back, and Bilbo could only guess at the curses about to be muttered.

“I would not help, Thranduil, Great King of the Woodland Realm, if the end of all days be upon us! He has shown that he lacks all honor.”

“And yet, it is what is right, and you know it.” Bilbo pointed out.

Thorin seemed to still be fuming as Dwalin took over.

“Regardless of what’s right or wrong here, you seem to be forgetting that those gems are locked away in the treasury. Just how do you plan to get to them?” 

Bilbo could feel his fingers brushing against each other as he tried to act more confident than he felt.

“I guess we’ll just have to sneak in and steal them.”

For more of this chapter, please click the AO3 link above!

[youareunbearable]

Rereading one of my fav bagginshield fics and it just casually mentions a bunch of stuff that would have such fascinating implications for the Silmarillion as just background lore/word building bits (ik its just cause the author hasn't read the Silm and is just dropping extra Tolkien tidbits for funsies) but it has me going feral trying to figure out the wider world.

Bilbo has a Beleriand rug??? And its implied that its a nice rug because its from a far away land and exotic instead of like, thousands and thousands of years old??

Smaug never came so the Dwarves still have a strong hold in the east?? But Moria fell?? Was it retaken???? So Balrogs are still a thing????

People just know the difference between Noldor Elves and Sindarin Elves??? Is this implying that there are enough Noldor to around that this is just common knowledge? Especially since the Shire is moved to be between Erebor, Dale, and Mirkwood?? Were there not battles and wars that decimated the Noldor ranks in the first and second ages?? Are their strongholds still standing??? Why do the Hobbits know Noldor Elves by sight alone???

Why are the Wizards here if there is no worry of a growing Shadow??? Ik Orcs are still around and a low key problem but why?? Was the last alliance at the end of the second age a thing?? Was sauron defeated? How did Beleriand play into it?? Are the Feanorians still alive???

EREGION IS STILL AROUND WHAT????

What about the kingdoms of men around where the Shire used to be??? Are they still here or they gone?? What about Numenor?????

I've decided that this fic is the Thilbo End Of The Third Age AU for the Threadverse Silmarillion fic series

Maedhros and Fingon are both high kings of the Noldor; Maeglin, Celebrimbor, and Curufin are all running Eregion (its mostly Maeglin though); Gil-Galad is just vibing in Lindon, his little city just an alternative stop for traders/an in-between city like Thargelion a little more north.

[mithrilhearts]

I'd like to know more about "heartstones" and "sweeter than honey" please 👀💕

HARAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for asking about these two in particular!! I know I've talked about them on my blog before, but it's time for a refresher, especially after I've given them a lot more thought since the last time (or maybe I haven't, but let's go anyway!)

Heartstones - Soulmate AU/Erebor never fell

Dwarves are all born with a grain in their hands, that over time, grows into a crystal/rock, which gains its color and meaning upon meeting their soulmate. Whereas hobbits are born with a seed, that does the same thing, it grows, and only sprouts its flowers/leaves/whatever when meeting their soulmate. Like, meeting that person triggers the gem or plant into completion. Neither Thorin, nor Bilbo, are born with their respective items, making them outliers to their race - but they aren't born with "nothing", at the very least. Moving on, Frerin insists that Thorin's heartstone or heartcraft (as not all dwarves are destined to have a romantic soulmate), is out there, and they just have to go manually find it. He leads Thorin and a few of their guard, west, in hopes of searching the areas beyond the Misty Mountains - and Bilbo is named as their host during their stay. 👀

Sweeter Than Honey - Modern AU, Beekeeper!Bilbo/Lumberjack!Thorin

Bilbo Baggins is a beekeeper, owner of the best local honey farm that sells honey themed goods and what not, and has been for years. Lately, the surrounding land to his bee sanctuary has been bought up by a logging company that's migrating west (owned by Thror Oakes), which of course, means his grandson Thorin, works for him. Ultimately, Thror is hellbent on taking over Bilbo's land, it has some of the oldest and largest trees, and there are many businesses that are up and coming that would love the cleared land for development - for a handsome price. Bilbo is not keen on selling. A budding relationship between Beekeeper and Lumberjack ensues, and decisions of loyalty need to be made. Or, the cozy cottage core AU I didn't know I needed.

Ask about my WIPs!

[the-pen-pot]

WiP Ask Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs! Okay, so... all my WiPs except one at the moment actually have titles - which is kind of shocking. Have at it!

Sigh No More (Merlin) King & Court (Merlin Love Is Never Lost (Merlin) The Water and the Wilds (Merlin) Where The Heart Is (Hobbit) Erebor Never Fell AU (Hobbit) L'appel Du Vide (Sherlock) Guard of Diocletian (Sherlock)

Hmmm tagging: @the-reading-lemon @writingfanficsfan @megaraye @thenerdyindividual @peaceheather @ajpendragon @kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick @mojoflower (and anyone else who wants to do it.

[bagginshieldweek24]

Bagginshield Week 2023 - Guideline, Dates, Prompts

Welcome all to Bagginshield Week 2023, an event meant to inspire creations surrounding the relationship between Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakeshield! Keep reading below the cut to find out how to participate, when will it take place, and what are the prompts!

What is considered as Bagginshield for the purposes of the event? Any kind of relationship between Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield, whether that be platonic, romantic or sexual, so long as said relationship or the interactions between these characters are the main focus of the work you create.

Is there one specific incarnation of the characters/story that we must abide by? Not at all, you can write them following the lines of the book, the animated film, or the live action trilogy, and even add your own flavor to them. As for the story, you may observe either canon, or make it as canon divergent or alternate universe as you wish (prompt notwithstanding).

Are other pairings featuring Bilbo or Thorin welcome? Yes. So long as Bilbo and Thorin remain the focus of the work, you may include any other background pairings, other relationships (of any nature) that feature Bilbo or Thorin, and polycules/open relationships. I find it perfectly understandable and more than acceptable if you wish, for example, to develop a platonic relationship between these two characters, while also hinting at either of them having a romantic relationship with someone else. Different strokes for different folks.

What mediums are allowed? Are there any minimum requisites for completion or participation? Officially speaking, all mediums are allowed and there aren’t any requisites , since the purpose is to simply inspire more creations of this pair, but the following minimums are encouraged -

Art: 1 sketch.

Fiction: 250 words.

Commentary: 250 words.

Podfic: 5 minutes.

Edits/manips: 2 pictures.

Gifset: 2 gifs.

Moodboard: 4 pictures.

Playlist: 5 songs.

Any other mediums you can think of are more than welcome! If what you wish to create in (animation, cosplay, embroidery, essay, poetry, video edit, you name it) isn’t mentioned above, is simply because I couldn’t even begin to conceptualize what could be considered a minimum for it or wasn’t entirely sure if what I had in mind would work out. You’re more than welcome to drop any comments on other mediums in the ask box, and to participate just as freely as anyone else! Again, these minimums are suggestions, after all!

Event Specifics

Date: June 4th - 10th. 2023.

Two extra days (June 11th and 12th) will be available to post/finish creations.

There are two prompts to chose from or combine per day.

There are two alternate prompt sets (regular and whump), with five prompts each, which you can exchange or combine with any daily prompt.

For those posting in Tumblr, you must use the tag #thilboweek23 to have your post reblogged. For those posting in AO3, a Collection will be set at the beginning of the event. For those who may post somewhere else or would prefer remaining anonymous on Tumblr, you may: make a short Tumblr post to promote, request me to share your work through the Discord server (that is still being set up) or an ask through Tumblr, or send me an email with the link to your work through an account I will share later (I’m afraid I don’t have Twitter or Instagram accounts, sorry).

Prompts

June 4th: Fairytale AU | Domestic June 5th: Bilbo in Erebor | Piercings & Tattoos June 6th: Pride & Prejudice AU | Blade/Sword June 7th: Nautical/Pirate AU | The Moon/The Sun June 8th: Ghibli AU | Hobbit Culture June 9th: Erebor Never Fell | Flowers/Flower Language June 10th: Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies | Haunted House/Castle/Palace

Regular Alternate Prompts: Courtship | Secret Relationship | Thorin is an Errant Smith | Meeting the Family | Enchantments/Spells

Whump Alternate Prompts: Believed to be Dead | Nightmares/Hallucinations | Silence | Left Behind | Hidden Injury