#Post BOTFA

[sisyphusunderthesun]

[oaken-dick]

This year I had the pleasure of being part of this amazing event, THAUC 2024! And now it's time for reveals!

The wonderful creators of Thauc proposed us three different prompts but my partner @luthiendraws and I were really interested in one theme in particular:

Bilbo's deeds on the quest have garnered him attention from eligible sutures and Thorin is trying to handle his jealousy with grace.

While I worked on the first part of the lineart, the amazing @luthiendraws made the other, then we switched for the colouring phase!

I had so much fun in the making of this comic, having the chance to exchange ideas and create something together was a blast. I loved every step of the journey ;-)

See you next year hopefully!

[morningnoodles]

BotFA post credit scene was so good i had to draw it ❤

[simonskizm]

So uh

You ever wonder if Bilbo sat expecting visits from the Company, and every time he heard a knock at his door he gets up from his seat or stops what he was doing to open it with the biggest smile and a "Balin!" Or "Ori!" Only to see it was his neighbor?

Maybe he cooks extra every meal, and while he's eating he waits for the sound of rough-housing dwarves to come barreling through for lunch or supper. He sits alone at the table, waiting so painfully patient for a visitor that isn't a hobbit.

Or, maybe, he sits out front on his bench and watches the horizon in case he can see a group of travelers that look vaguely like the Company.

Maybe, when he has everything in Bag End back to normal, he always makes tea at the promised time. Maybe he talks to himself, like he was talking to Oin or Nori. Has 10- no, 13- tea cups set out untouched by visitors that never come.

Every day, every week, every month.

Do you think, eventually, he stops? That he stares at the door with an almost contemptuous glare that seemed betrayed? What about his neighbors? They stop by with warm smiles and it's returned with a scowl and empty eyes that say "You're not who I want here".

Maybe he stops answering the door in general. As a matter of fact, he avoids it entirely- its existence is only to taunt him of who he made a life with that forgot about him.

[frostbite-n]

That one specific Bagginshield fanfic

Friends, Romans and Country-men. Lend me your ears. I have been searching for a Bagginshield fanfic for the longest time and have not been able to find it.

The fic is about how Bilbo post-Botfa remains in Erebor and learns Khuzdul, but uses the royal terms to address himself and insults Dain Ironfoot at least once. Most of that is due to the fact that Fili and Kili are involved in his Khuzdul education and are pulling pranks on him with different words and their meanings.

As far as I can remember he also greets Thorin with a "Good morning, lowly one" once.

I beg you, if you know that fic, find it, have the pdf or anything. Please help me find it.

[hobartsaglet]

the hobbit fandom can we rally again i just made it through another BOTFA (extended edition) watch

[lonelyvermonster]

There, But Never Really Back

TW: Mentions of death and PTSD

While watching The Hobbit I began to think about what it must have been like for Bilbo after he returned home. The books and movies don't talk about the trauma. How much of bilbos life must have been different after the quest. The other hobbits talk about how reclusive he becomes in his later years, but I want to know more from bilbos side.

How terrifying it must have been for Bilbo the first night he slept in his own bed; finally safe again, only to awake screaming. Blood and fire and dead blue eyes haunting him. I wonder how many years it took Bilbo before he no longer carried Sting everywhere he went. How much longer still before he stopped needing to check to make sure that horrifying blue glow didn't come back. It may not have been present in the books or the movie, but Sting gained a permanent place next to Bilbo's bed.

It didn't take long for Bilbo to pull away from everyone else but it's only because how could he possibly expect them to understand. How could the innocent hobbits who have never known war and death be able to understand the haunted look in his eyes? How odd he must have seemed. The only Hobbit who wouldn't eat any stew at the gatherings and parties. The only Hobbit who shrunk away from hugs because being grabbed was no longer comforting.

Do you think the first time someone tried to pull him into a hug he was overtaken with fear, Thorin's name slipping from his lips?

Do you think Bilbo noticed the way people would stare at him? The Hobbit's may have noticed him pull away, but I don't think they noticed the rest. They may have heard about trolls and dragons, but they didn't know about the sickly little creature he found in that cave. They didn't know about the nights he would wake up frightened, eyes searching for the shadows for Gollum. His neighbors didn't notice how he froze up the first time he heard a little hobbitling ask for some "eggsies". He still spun the occasional riddle but there were some he never repeated again.

Then there is the protectiveness that often comes from the trauma of watching others die.

How odd it must have been for Merry and Pippin's parents to watch Bilbo fiercely defend them against those who disapproved of their pranks and yet in the next breath berate them for the danger they put themselves in. The first time the boys got hurt bilbo could barely stand to see them; the image of two young dwarves who he had loved like family all his mind could see.

God how much worse that must have been when Frodo came along.

Dark black curls and bright blue eyes. Just close enough to haunt him. When that little hobbitling came into his life, how much of his decision to take him in was because he looked like Thorin? How many nights did Bilbo peak his head into Frodo's room to reassure himself that Frodo was alive and breathing, rather than laying on a stone slab? He protected him the way he could not protect his dwarf. Yet he also never bought him a single piece of clothing that was blue.

He filled that hobbit hole with greens and yellows and browns. Never blue. That color was perhaps the deepest tie to the pain he carried. Blue fabric, blue eyes, blue light; all capable of spiraling him into a pit of hellish memories. There were days he could not even bear to go outside because even the blue of the sky was too much.

Because at the end of the day Gandalf was right.

Bilbo was not the same, and he never would be again.

[blackknight-100]

THAUC24 fic is here!

I had the absolute pleasure of participating in the THAUC fic event once more this year, organised by @fellowshipofthefics. This one is for the prompt: "Bard and Thranduil share a moment, and their thoughts, after the Battle of the Five Armies."

Between the woods and frozen lake ➻ Read on AO3 + Amazing art by @thatonetimetraveller, check it out!

Featuring: Bard swooning over Thranduil + parenting life + a dash of Legolas

Excerpt:

The Elvenking reaches up for the carved pin and plucks it off. His terrible ice-blond braids fall like whispering river reeds, dropping to his shoulders and resting there, coiled snakes ready to strike. It takes Bard enormous effort to wrench his eyes from them to the pin the Elvenking is holding out – Tilda's hairpin, complete with its wide winged butterfly and single blue stone. The implications come to him after, slowly, like melting ice on the first spring day: the pale hands, the messy braids, the pin. “Oh Valar,” Bard exclaims. At some point between the end of the battle and now, in the time that Bard dawdled on a broken stoop – however much that was – in the time Bard abandoned his children –  “Tilda braided your hair!” The Elvenking furrows his brows. “You seem displeased,” he notes. “Allow me to assure you, Lord Bard, Lady Tilda was under the watchful guard of the good Mistress Hilda the entire time. I do not intend her any harm.” Lord Bard. Mistress Hilda. Lady Tilda. Sweet, dear Elbereth. Bard decides to unravel this one tangle at a time. “I don't doubt your intentions, Lord Thranduil” he clarifies, because he will not let the noble elf-king of all people misconstrue his words. “You have done nothing but aid us, whatever be your intentions, and all Men know that the elves are fair, good folk.” The Elvenking’s eyes flash, and for a moment, Bard is afraid. But he only says, “I would advise against trusting people only for their fairness or elvish race. Many have done so, Lord Bard, even before you were born, and they have paid dearly for it.”

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

**Best of intentions - random snippet - beginning - playing with interaction and slow burn.

**************

Mistlynn had risen with the sun that next morning. Rosalyn had been waiting eagerly at the front of her shop, holding fresh cheese danishes for their breakfast. Her new friend was jittery with a nervous excitement as they made their way to the outside training grounds. She shared her excitement, eager to see something she was familiar with and curious to see how the Dwarrow trained in Erebor.

“Promise you won’t judge me when I point him out to you?” Rosalyn pleaded; her excitement soon turned into anxiety that grew with each passing moment as they approached the seating that was placed outside of the rings. Sounds of metal clashing against metal, harsh grunts and yells of exertion echoed and grew louder.

“Of course I won’t!” Mistlynn admonished. “You listened to me drone on about my current frustrations last night. The least I can do is support you with yours.”

Rosalyn sighed as she stuffed the final bit of her danish in her mouth. She chewed quickly as she grumbled around bits of pastry. “Frustration is right. He didn’t even come by this morning, and I set aside a cinnamon roll for him! It’s pathetic, me thinking that he could be my One when he is a member of the royal court. And I am just a bakers daughter who happens to know how to make a decent pastry.”

“Hey now, none of that.” Mistlynn scolded. “You're baking is amazing. Your cinnamon rolls alone could bring any Dwarrow to his knees in supplication.”

“Such dramatic flair this morning.” Rosalyn sighed as she stepped up onto the lower benched seating that surrounded the training rings. Above them in the higher levels sat a group of poshly dressed Dams, their hair and makeup done with painstaking perfection.

Mistlynn tore her eyes from them to whisper into her friends ear. “Am I missing something? Looks like they stepped out of some romance story.”

Rosalyn scoffed. “They are crown chasers. They follow the King and his nephews around like a gaggle of puffed-up geese. Pay them no mind.”

Mistlynn heard taunting whispers and giggles coming from behind her, no doubt criticizing her choice of wardrobe and loose hair. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, as she looked forward to focus on the warriors fighting. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she recognized who was fighting in the ring in front of them. She blinked rapidly as she fought to register that the Dwarrow’s were shirtless, and it was Thorin and Dwalin dueling.

She licked her dry lips as she looked over at Rosalyn questioningly. The blonde baker was resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she sat forward with her elbows on her knees. “The King?” Mistlynn whispered hoarsely into her friends ear, a sudden heavy dread filling her stomach.

Rosalyn snorted. “Oh goodness no! Not that he isn’t nice to look at. But no, it is his cousin. Lord Dwalin.” She trailed off, her voice getting quieter as if she was scared that others would overhear her confession.

Mistlynn couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips as the tenseness in her chest lightened slightly. She looked back as she watched them fight. It was impressive to watch, leaving no doubts that they were worthy of their fame.  She couldn't take her eyes off of him as she watched Orcist slice through the air effortlessly, if not with a sharp sense of lethal grace. Dwalin deflected his counterattacks with ease. It was obvious that they were bantering back and forth, by the way they smirked and gestured at each other. Mistlynn couldn’t help but be drawn in, biting her bottom lip to stop a smile from showing on her face as Thorin blocked Dwalin before deftly spinning and knocking him off balance. Thorin’s laugh echoed as Dwalin rolled quickly in the dirt, blocking Thorin’s attempt to make him yield.

She bit her bottom lip as she allowed her gaze to roam down his exposed skin. She had never seen a Dwarrow’s bare torso. They always trained in times the weather wasn’t harsh, but never warm enough to want to remove ones base layers.

Powerful. That was the word that came to her mind. He seemed to be chiseled from the finest stone, the scars and tattoos that covered his chest and shoulders further proof of his true might as a formidable warrior. The tattoos continued down both his arms in intricately drawn knots and runes, stopping at his wrists. His muscles moved languidly under his skin, making her swallow thickly and squirm slightly in her seat. She wanted to hate him, despise the hold and affect he had on her, but she knew it would never be possible to. She despised how this new feeling stirred deep within her, growing even more ravenous with each passing day, becoming hotter with each encounter they tried so hard to avoid.

“It’s hard to look away, isn’t it.” Rosalyn giggled dreamily. “I can’t even fully blame those blood sucking bats for ogling. I have no right to be as jealous as I am at the notion of them salivating over him.”

Mistlynn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. She partially blamed the smoldering fire of conflicting emotions that raged within her. They needed to escape somehow, and it felt good to allow herself to laugh. She wasn’t the only one admiring someone she knew she couldn't have. It was freeing as Rosalyn joined her in her laughter. They earned some scathing looks from the twittering dams that sat behind them, but they didn’t care.

Her laughter caught in her throat abruptly when she found Thorin’s eyes catching hers with a mixture of disbelief and confusion churning in their glowing depths. She watched Thorin’s brows furrow as he slightly lowered Orcist, seemingly forgetting the very important fact that he was in the middle of a spar.

It also didn’t register to Dwalin, until it was too late, that his friend and King was entirely distracted. A sound and punishing punch landed on Thorin’s unprotected jaw, knocking him completely off his feet. He hit the ground hard with his back first, sliding a couple feet before his legs joined the rest of his body in the dirt. His arms were splayed out, Orcist spinning away from his limp, outstretched hand as the dust settled.

A collective gasp joined Mistlynn’s as she jumped to her feet, her hands covering her mouth as she watched Dwalin rush to his side. She hadn’t noticed that Fili and Kili along with the rest of Thorin’s closest friends that were known as “The Company”, had been sitting along the fence of the training pen. They dashed to join Dwalin, effectively circling and shielding the prone King from prying eyes.

“I’ve never seen him get hit, let alone knocked out before!” Rosalyn gasped as she stood with Mistlynn.

Dread settled into her gut. She wasn’t sure if anyone else had seen, but for a fleeting moment they had held eye contact, and that is what distracted him. She had no idea how he managed to hear her laugh from that distance, but she knew without a doubt that she was the reason why he had lost his focus.

**********

 *Thorin*

It had been a good morning so far. He loathed that he had not been able to give Mistlynn the peonies last night. After Dis had left his office, he had started walking to her room. He had paced outside of her door for several minutes, earning him many an inquisitive look from a couple guards and the maids finishing up their days work. He had continued to his room, admitting defeat once he had worked himself up into mess of frazzled nerves. They were still sitting in a vase on the table in his quarters this morning. He was hoping after a good morning of drills he would be able to deliver them to the dam that was slowly but surely driving him mad.

For the most part, he had gotten out of his head and was enjoying the rush that came with dueling Dwalin and his nephews. As iron sharpens iron, he had pushed himself especially hard that morning. After thoroughly sparring with Fili and Kili, Dwalin had stepped in, eager to match his energy.

“The lads were talkin about how they saw their King carryin a bushel of pink flowers. Mahal, your growin as soft and Bombur’s dinner rolls!” Dwalin teased mercilessly as they circled each other. After a couple rounds, they had tossed their sweat soaked tunics.

Their swords clashed as they rushed each other. “Didn’t realize you would be so jealous.” Thorin ground out before moving out of the lock Dwalin had him in, allowing him to take a couple offensive strikes.

Dwalin chuckled as he deflected with ease as he stepped back. “With yer little hive of yer aspirin queen bee’s that have been titterin over ye this mornin… I thought that just maybe ya pulled yer head out of yer arse and went after that bonnie little warrior of yers.”

Thorin threw his head back and laughed incredulously as he managed to trip Dwalin. His grin was wolfish as he watched Dwalin regain his footing. “She isn’t my little warrior. Besides, don’t you have your own little tart waiting for you? Once you pull your head out of your arse I might consider following suit.”  

It was in that moment, he heard her. It was a real laugh, one that stemmed from a source of joy. His heart caught in his chest at the beautiful sound, and his found himself searching for her in the seats provided for onlookers.

He found her quickly. She was sitting next to the baker that had captured his stubborn cousins heart, and she was breathtaking. Her head was thrown back as she laughed, her friend giggling beside her. Rosalyn, he reminded himself. His cousin’s One, sitting next to his, seemingly the best of friends.

Her gorgeous curly locks flowed freely down her back, glowing in the warm rays of the morning sun. She was beaming, her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes glittered with happiness.

Mahal, she’s beautiful.

Her gaze caught his and time seemed to slow. How was it she was more breathtaking every time he laid eyes on her?

He watched her emerald eyes grow wide, her full lips opening as if gasping. Why did she look so startled? He couldn't fully process that thought as something plowed into the side of his jaw, and he found himself flying backwards. He saw the bright blue sky of the morning, before his breath was stolen from his lungs as his body connected to the ground with a resounding force. Apparently, it only took a second for all of this to transpire.

His ears began to ring as he lay there, confused. He heard distant shouts and shrieks; muffled and distorted as if he was laying under water. The ringing became louder as a pounding pulse began to form in his head. He blinked slowly, trying to shake away the throbbing that was starting to pulse on his jaw. He groaned as he shut his eyes. ‘Sar em Gabura’. He growled; his teeth clenched.

“Mahal faslmaganu zharmur[KA1] !” He heard Dwalin’s rough brogue hiss from above him. “Wha were ya thinkin! Ye bleedin fool!”

“Hit me hard enough, ya troll brain?” He hissed as reality began to set in. He had lost focus, something he was constantly berating Fili and Kili on. Now, he found himself flat on his back with a splitting headache and throbbing jaw. Perfect.

He cracked open his eyes and saw the outline of ten heads surrounding him. Gloved hands came into his sight as a crooked, U-shaped hat floated above him. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He heard Bofur’s amused voice. He squinted, as if that would stop the blurry fingers from swaying back and forth.

“I am not answering that.” His words came out slurred. He knew than that if he said he counted six, he would be carted off to Oin’s infirmary.

“Mahal’s beard Dwalin! He can’t even talk straight; you walloped him good.” He heard Bofur admonish the very irate Captain.

“A dwarfling could ave blocked tha hit. Not like I snuck up on im!” Dwalin grumbled.

“Och now, he will be right as rain in a moment. Leave im be.” Gloin chastised Dwalin as he knelt down on the other side of Thorin.

“He literally wiped the ring with my sorry arse just this morning, lecturing me on not focusing.” Kili laughed, as he stood up quickly to avoid the arm Dwalin swung in his direction.

“Smart ass. Just you wait until I get up.” Thorin groaned as he forced him arms to move and rest on the top of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you Thorin, but the entire royal court just watched you get ram rodded by your Captain of the Guard.” Nori mused, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Exactly why he is the bloody Captain of my bloody guard.” Thorin growled as he braced his forearms on the ground and forced himself to sit up. His stomach churned as the sky and ground rolled around him. “He’s the only one who can best me.”  

“Easy now! There is no rush.” He heard Dori titter nervously from the other side of him.

He heard Kili gasp dramatically as he nudged Bofur with his elbow. If his jaw wasn’t throbbing as if it was going to fall off, he would of ground his teeth together. “She’s here.” Kili’s tone was smug. Bofur began to snicker as he wagged his busy eyebrows at his comrades.

Mahal, there is no way she witnessed that. Thorin groaned as he rolled onto his knees. He felt Fili and Dwalin grab ahold of his biceps.

“Who is here?” Dori sounded intrigued, directing his question towards a smug Kili, and still snickering Bofur.

“No one.” Thorin hissed as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He staggered slightly before Fili and Dwalin steadied him.

“That’s going to be one beauty of a bruise.” Fili teased good naturedly. “Any other dwarf would have had his head knocked clean off.”

“I don’t think that’s helping matters lad.” Gloin snickered. “Especially with his lady watchin.”

“She isn’t my bleedin lady.” Thorin spat. “Sun blinded me for a brief moment.” His denial was useless, and he knew it. More than just his jaw was bruised, his pride was throbbing as well. He chanced a subtle glance towards the onlooker seats. The dams were standing and whispering fervently amongst themselves, their fans a blur of colors that made his eyes hurt.

Then he saw her, standing next to Rosalyn, her face pinched with worry as she watched him sway on his feet. He felt his face flush with a hot shame. He rubbed a heavy hand against his screaming jaw, wincing as his hands came in contact with the dark bruise already forming on his face. He sighed in exasperation. “What in Durin’s name is she doing here?”

“Blinded by the sun my arse. Blinded by your lassie is more like it.” Dwalin snorted. Apparently Thorin had spoken his last thought aloud.

Mahal, he needed to get out of here. “Fili. Hand me my tunic and Orcist please.” He whispered with a grimace as he took a step forward. He rolled his neck and shoulders back, trying to get his range of motion back and clear his eyesight before his comrades got the idea to carry him out of the training arena. “The rest of you, continue with your drills. I’ll be fine to walk back myself.”  

They all began to protest at once. He held his hand up, trying to pin them all with a firm glare. “I’ll walk you back Irak’adad.” Fili walked up to him with his discarded tunic and Orcist. “The only ones I couldn’t best were you and Dwalin. I’ve fulfilled my drills for today.”

Thorin grumbled as he snuck a look back towards Mistlynn. He caught her walking off, following Rosalyn as they stepped down from the seating area. At the last moment she looked over her shoulder, once again catching his gaze. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but her gaze softened as an apologetic smile twisted her lips. In another blink, she was gone. He sighed heavily as he chastised himself again under his breath.

“Uncle. You alright? You're mumbling.” Fili’s voice startled him. He hadn’t realized that he had walked up alongside him, holding out his shirt for him to grab. Orcist was sheathed and slung over his shoulder along with his own sword,

“Make sure the stubborn git walks it off righ.” Dwalin barked, not fully able to disguise his concern as he watched Thorin slowly pull on his tunic.

“Quit clucking at me and finish the drills.” Thorin groused back as he took Orcist back from Fili.

“Do you want to stop by the infirmary?” Fili watched in concern as Thorin gingerly pulled his tunic back on.

Thorin started to shake his head but stopped the movement when his neck and shoulder muscles protested the movement. “No. I’ll go to my room. Take a moments rest.”

“Are you alright, my king?” A sultry voice drifted down from the stands as they started to walk towards the exit.

“All is well ladies. No need for any concern. The king has a lot to accomplish today.” Fili grinned charmingly, making them all giggle and bat their lashes demurely.

Thorin groaned as their giggles grated on his diminishing patience. “We are going to have to change our training schedule again.” He grumbled.

Fili laughed. “Or if you just accepted your One, they would no longer follow you around like a prized steed to be won.”

Thorin’s answering glare would have been lethal to anyone else, but Fili was immune to the silent threat. He grinned widely as he waggled his eyebrows. “As Amad says, the two of you will make beautiful dwarflings.”

Thorin scoffed. “Your Amad is a meddling royal pain in my backside. She should be concentrating on helping you find your One and quit trying to force my hand.”

“I am still young and have a lot of time. Your One is here within your reach and you keep barking at her like she’s one of those annoying crown chasers.”

Thorin grumbled under his breath. “I am done discussing this. Will you just please keep this from your Amad for now? At least until my head is done ringing?”

“Fair enough Irak’adad. Shall I fetch you something cold for your jaw?”

Thorin groaned as he was reminded that his jaw was still pulsing angrily. “I will not tell you no.”

Fili snorted. “Very well. I’m sure Bombur has something that would suffice without alerting Balin or Oin.”

**

He walked as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the quicker yet busier route so he wouldn’t garner too much attention to himself.  Curious looks along with hushed gasps followed him as he made his way to his quarters. He was thankful that everyone kept their distance despite the alarming sight he knew he looked.

His head was pounding by the time he reached his rooms. He sighed in relief as he closed the door behind him, the dark and coolness of his room a welcome reprieve. He placed Orcist on the entry table and trudged to the oversized armchair by the simmering fireplace. He collapsed fully into the seat and his body went limp.

It had been many decades since he had been clobbered in the jaw, but this time was a first for him to be punched out due to distraction.

Distraction from a lass, no less.

He groaned as he slouched further into the chair. There had been witnesses to his distraction, his comrades knew what had caused it. And by the way she had looked at him, worried and a little embarrassed, either by him or for him he couldn’t tell, she knew all too well that she was the cause of it.

His door creaked open quietly, before it was shut again. He could tell it was Fili by the way his steps fell, He heard a sharp intake of breath as Fili stopped by his side. “There is no question that Dwalin got you good. Your entire side is bruised Irak’adad. Are you sure you don’t want Oin to look at it?”

Thorin peeled his eyes open to look up at him. “I’m fine. Nothing is broken, I would be able to tell if something was.”

Fili held out a cooled slice of steak. “This was the coldest thing I could find.”

Thorin nodded his thanks as he took the meat and gingerly placed it on his swelling jaw. His eyes closed as he let out a sigh of relief as the cold meat soothed the angry bruise. “Thank you, Fili. Would you mind covering for me in the meeting today. Tell them something came up that I could not ignore.”

Fili snorted. “Of course. Are the documents in your office?”

“Balin has them. He will be there early so he will be able to give you a quick summation of what will be discussed.” Thorin spoke lowly, trying to minimize the movement of his jaw.

After a moment of silence, he heard Fili’s weight shift on his feet. “Why do you still have those flowers?”

Thorin’s brows furrowed in confusion for a brief moment before he remembered what flowers, and who they were meant for. In irritation he growled lowly. “I tried to give them to her last night, but she wasn’t in her quarters, and it didn’t feel right to leave them at her door.” He hissed, cursing the fact the flowers were still there and that he had forgotten them entirely.

He heard Fili trying to not chuckle. He frowned. “What, dear nephew, is so funny?” He opened the one eye on his uninjured side. Fili was looking at him with a bright grin on his face. “Not you too. Don’t say a bleeding word.” Thorin growled reproachfully.

“It’s just that first, you had a cut on your chin from her knocking you out during that chase when we first brought her back here, and now you have a bruised jaw from her distracting you at the training ring. And you have a big bouquet of flowers you saw her admiring in your room. I’ve never seen you so…” Fili trailed off as he watched his uncle raise an eyebrow as if daring him to finish that sentence. Fili shook his head, a smile still on his face.

“Never mind. I’m sure it will all work out in the end. Amad said it did with her and Adad.”  

Thorin groaned. “That was different Fili.”

“How so? She’s your One and its obvious she drives you to distraction, and you, of all Dwarrow’s are never driven to distraction.”

“You're going to be late for that meeting with Balin and the council.” Thorin gave him a pointed look masterfully with just one eye.

Fili’s grin grew wider as he patted his uncle on the shoulder. “I’ll check in on you later.”  

“No need.” Thorin groused as she shifted to a more comfortable position in his chair. “I’m perfectly fine and capable of taking care of myself.”

He heard Fili let out a long-suffering sigh before he excited his room. Silence fell around him like a heavy blanket. “Thank the merciful gods.” He sighed to no one in particular. He let himself drift, the cool meat calming his physical wounds, but his heart wasn’t so easily consoled.

 [KA1]Mahal’s hairy balls - khuzudul

TAGLIST***

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin @dustie-faerie @exhausted-humxn-being @lathalea

[conversacomsmaug]

Capítulo 1 – Viva...

Sobre o áspero e gélido pico de Ravenhill, o vento sussurrava histórias de tempos antigos. A batalha à muito havia cessado, mas o eco da violência ainda rodeava a terra. Thranduil, Rei da Floresta das Trevas, andava com a majestade de um soberano atormentado pelos espectros da guerra. Seu olhar, outrora impenetrável como a própria floresta que jurou proteger, agora carregava uma suavidade rara e dolorosa.

Ali, prostrada sobre a neve manchada de sangue, estava Tauriel, sua capitã, seu valor inquestionável, cujo coração sangrou amor tão profundo que desafiou as próprias leis do reino élfico. Ele aguardou até que os anões retirassem os corpos de seus parentes mortos e Tauriel pudesse se recompor. Ela sabia que não tinha o direito de reivindicar o corpo de Kili e por isso fez sua última despedida.

Chegando próximo a ela e ajoelhando um pouco atrás da elfa, em uma atitude de completa compaixão e humildade, que qualquer um que o conhecia ou já ouvira falar do Rei Élfico não acreditaria, colocou uma mão no ombro de Tauriel com surpreendente suavidade e ainda com olhos brilhantes de lembranças doloridas. “Tauriel, você agiu guiada por sentimento, algo que muitos de nós perdemos em tempos imemoriais”, começou Thranduil, sua voz tão suave quanto as primeiras neves do inverno. “Você foi banida não pela força do seu coração, mas pela inquietação que ele causou dentro do nosso próprio.”

Tauriel, as lágrimas cristalizando em seu rosto, olhava-o com um misto de reverencia e desesperança. “Meu Rei, eu...,” seus lábios tremeram na fria brisa, “Eu achava que o amor poderia ser a nossa força.”

Thranduil se aproximou mais, a distância entre monarca e súdita borrada por gestos de compaixão. “Em outra vida, talvez nos ensinassem que o amor é a verdadeira força. Pela dor que causou, peço desculpas – não como teu rei, mas como alguém que esqueceu o que é sentir.”

Ouvir essas palavras de seu rei, alguém que ela outrora julgou tão frio, fez com que ela não soubesse se isso lhe dava forças ou a quebrava ainda mais. Ela o julgou, e agora estava ele aqui, impensável, o outrora inalcançável Rei Thranduil, olhando em seus olhos com um calor que derreteria uma geleira e lhe oferecendo palavras gentis sobre o que ela sentia pelo jovem príncipe anão. Talvez ela tenha tomado um golpe forte demais de Bolg e está desacordada vendo cenas inimagináveis.

Não, mas isso era real, doía, doía muito, não só sua carne, mas seu fëa. E Então ela estava caindo em si.

Percebendo a luta interna de Tauriel, com as mãos estendidas, Thranduil ajudou ela a levantar-se. O horizonte mostrava uma promessa de alvorada, os raios primeiros de luz penetrando as trevas.

Percebendo que ela talvez não entenderia se ele não fosse direto, Thranduil falou com a voz firme novamente. “Vamos retornar para Mirkwood, Tauriel. Há muito para reconstruir, e agora reconheço que precisamos de todos os corações – especialmente daqueles que amam com coragem.”

“Mas meu banimento, Kili... eu...,” ela balbuciou ainda em torpor.

“Basta. Há muita dor agora Tauriel, não só a sua. Seu povo agora precisa de você. Uma vez você quis lutar pelo que era justo além do amor, venha e me ajude. Esse é um pedido e não uma ordem, do seu Rei. Eu ainda o sou?” Ele olhou mais uma vez em seus olhos e era como olhar seu fëa. Ela congelou.

“Sim. Meu Rei.” Ela balbuciou um pouco mais firme, ainda em dúvida sobre o que estava acontecendo.

“Bom. Se não deixei claro, agora falo para não ter dúvidas, revogo seu banimento. Venha comigo.” E se virou dando as costas para uma ainda confusa Tauriel. De qualquer forma, o que ela deveria fazer? Para onde deveria ir? A dor ainda era excruciante, então ela apenas se deixou levar. Era fácil, automático, ela o seguiu e o obedeceu por tantos séculos... agora o melhor seria seguir seus passos novamente pois parecia não só confortável, parecia certo. Era mais fácil assim, neste momento, não pensar.

Juntos, rei e guerreira começaram a descida, suas silhuetas fundindo-se à paisagem repleta de esperança de cura e novos começos.

E o que vocês acharam? Para ter um gostinho... rsrsr

[acornsandoaktrees]

this is why Thranduil doesn’t leave Middle Earth right after BotFA. he has his daughter’s health and healing to protect, and is in a unique position to do so

Alphes woke alone, reaching. "Tauriel?" She cried, voice barely there, then with more desperation and strength, "Tauriel?" "She is not here." Haerel answered her call. Brun braids and olive skin, nervous hands and stitched face. "Where is she?" Alphes croaked, chest impossibly tight. She wanted her, wanted her, wanted her. The soldier swallowed thickly. "Gone. She's gone." Feeling for the support of an armrest, he fell into a chair beside her. "She left the morn after the battle. Slipped away in the twilight. I saw her go." Alphes turned her eyes to the caved ceiling: unfamiliar white, a tent. She was in a cot. Fine fabric of clothes and a thin sheet stung her skin. Fragrant herbs caught in her nose. The rest of the camp was quiet outside walls rippling in a breeze, and a consuming heat lingered within her. "Why did you not--" A cough tore her throat and spiked through her torso in horrible lances, "--pursue?" Folding his hands into his lap in order to still them, Haerel looked down. "She meant to go. Someone met her at the edge of camp." "Who?" Alphes tried to shift up, then grimaced and relinquished quickly. Haerel watched with caution and no small amount of fragility; hers or his she could not say. "I do not know. A Man. A girl." Sigrid, perhaps, her mind suggested. What was Tauriel thinking? Tears pricked Alphes' eyes like fire. How could she leave? Haerel shifted, paused, then committed to standing. He bowed haltingly and rose stiffly. "I must find a healer so that they know you're awake." Alphes nodded and let him go without complaint. Later, healers helped her rise, cloud of pillows propping her up. Ethuilas -- she'd accompanied the military force, their greatest healer -- held her hand as the bandages were removed, not complaining even when she squeezed tight at the sting of salve. 'Our healing saves many things, but it cannot prevent the scars,' she signed to the princess as the burns were covered again, 'This mark will be with you forever.' Alphes pulled in a breath; Thranduil burst into the tent. He was breathing fast, evidently having sprinted all the way. His face was drained white with terror. "Aiya," he muttered, wind knocked out of him by the sight of Alphes awake on the cot. She looked incredibly like her aunt's burnt corpse animate. Alphes smiled at her father, shifting up higher against the pillows. "Hi, Ada. I'm okay, don't worry."

Legs giving out beneath him, Thranduil collapsed at her bedside and clasped her pale hand between his. He brought it up to his quivering lips. "I thought I had lost you, iellig," he whined in a broken whisper upon her skin. She did not know what to say to comfort him. She wished she could. He had lost another, hadn't he? What a horrible thing -- to know the touch of dragon fire.

[ohnonotnow]

the only thing keeping me sane rn are those post BOTFA AUs where no one dies and everyone is happy 💯🔥🙏

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup 9th June - 30th June

So, im a little behind with weekly round up as im sure you can see. A broken wrist and RL really has been kicking my arse. Thankfully my wrist ismuch better and Rl seems to have calmsed down somewhat so im back. Between the 9-30th June I uploaded 19,849 words (thats not all I wrote but I didnt keep track lol) and as always I will put 6 recs and mine under the read more.

So, as always, recs first: The Best of You and Me - giddytf2 - The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, I love it hwen they are both idiots tbh)

Summary: In which Jaskier discovers that he's mysteriously pregnant but wants the baby, Geralt finally learns to use his words after twenty years, Yennefer is so done with two idiots in love and their communication problems, and Ciri gains a new family.

A Dream or Something More - amloveabledeathmo - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)(Bilbo/Thorin, Quest retelling, The Rivendell scene is just so precious)

Summary: Bilbo gets a second chance, but how long is it before he realizes it. He does things to make himself happy and treats the dwarves like the lovely family they are. Also setting Bilbo a bit younger here not middle aged but about 40ish so like 10 or so years earlier to give him more time with his dwarves.

My Ego Dies - Conkers - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) @conkers-thecosy (Bilbo/Thorin, this is just all around adorable)

Summary: What if Frodo Baggins visited Erebor ten years after Bilbo returned to the Shire, and met with Thorin Oakenshield.

White lies - ylc - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaskier, Fake/pretend relationships are just so much fun) Summary: In Jaskier’s defense, he hadn’t actually believed Geralt would come looking for him eventually, so he figured that telling his mother that the Witcher was the father of the child he was carrying would be a completely harmless lie. And then of course Geralt had walked back into his life and things got… complicated.

Moonlight Feathers - Akikofuma - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, both are griffins and its so bloody cute)

Summary: Due to his coloring, Geralt will never have a family of his own, he's sure of it; until he meets Jaskier.

Learning how to be free - tashaxxxxxx - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, A/b/o, please mind the tags but this is so beautifully done)

Summary: Jaskier is a badly beaten omega belonging to King Vizimir with little hope for the future. He had even less hope when he’s told he’s going to be given away to the Witchers, bloodthirsty beasts, as assurance that Redania will keep to the peace treaty.

Jaskier has little hope of surviving the next few days, let alone of finding freedom and love.

And, as always, my fics. I have 6 fics to share with you for this time period <3

Ereborian Pride (Bilbo/Thorin and the final of my Baggin-shieldtober series that took me 9 months lol. Once again, thank you @smolestboop for the amazing prompts. Summary: On the afternoon of Kili's 18th birthday, Thorin and the rest of the company and their families) remembeed their past lives. Their quest, living in a thriving Erebor.

Thorin remembered loving and losing Bilbo. 4 year later there still hasn't been any word from their burglar. Thorin needs to find the other half of his heart.

Count, Count, Count before you Cry: Count, Count, Count before I Die (Bilbo/Thorin, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt count the days, very sad, please read the tags)

Summary: Thorin and the dwarves are Gold sick and they have NOT forgiven Bilbo his betrayal

A pair of scarlet rain boots (Geralt/Jaskier, My very first Witcher fic that I think is one of my fav things I've written)

Summary: Jaskier passed away a long time ago. The only human in a family of non-humans.

Cirilla has just had her first child and she wishes with all her heart her only human parent was here. Of course, he loved her so much he has never left her.

My brothers, my boys, my twins (Horry Potter, its Percy and George, gen fic for the @hp-abandonshipfest, its also part of my FireSeeker (Percy/Viktor) Series)

Summary: Percy was unintentionally parentified at a young age. He was tasked with being an extra parent to the twins. Now, having dumped his boyfriend, the night before the twins 22nd Birthday, the first birthday without Fred, he finds himself with George and Harry. Reminiscing about the boys he all but helped raised. His twins, and one is missing forever-more.

For the Abandon ship fest, prompt 67: Pre canon, Percy being the one who mostly watches the twins.

Dorcas the Orca, The Maruaders and a jail cell (A marauuders gen crack fic for a wonderful friend of mine)

Summary: Sirius, James and Remus are put in a jail cell.

As annoying as it is, Remus would have dealt with it, but theres an orca in the corner of the cell somehow...

If I sing it loud and clear, will you finally hear? (Geralt/Jaskier, for the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - House of cards)

Summary: Jaskier has a new song and is as subtle as a drunken Lambert.

If Geralt doesnt see Jaskier's feelings for him now, well theres no hope for him.

[my-beloved-kili]

Since Bilbo won, give me some ideas and I'll write something! You can suggest anything!

Alrighty, hobbits won for what race everybody wanted to be. Now which one would you wanna be?

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

~Best of Intentions~

Chapter 18-

****************

Several weeks later …

Mistlynn was snuggled further into her soft pillows as she felt the suns warm rays fall upon her face. She stretched leisurely, before turning around to feel towards Thorin's side. The sheets were cold, only a faint lingering of his smokey scent still present on his pillow. Her brow furrowed as she slowly opened her eyes. Although their honeymoon was over, he had never woken up and left without giving her a kiss goodbye.

Mistlynn pushed herself up on her elbows, confused. She squinted as she peered out into the bright morning light. She could see the ravens flying back and forth in front of the window, as they prepared for their day.

She couldn't remember if Thorin had anything of importance scheduled for that day, especially since it was a Sunday. She pushed the heavy blankets back and placed her feet onto the cold stone floor, causing her to shiver as her body protested the adjustment. Autumn was upon them.

Mistlynn reached for her heavy robe and threw it on quickly. As she began to unravel her hair from its braid, the sound of soft music echoed into the room. She paused her movement as the music flowed in. She had never heard such music before, and it seemed to be coming from the living quarters of their suite.

She silently made her way towards the door. The melody was eerily familiar, like a distant dream it awakened within her the voice she had been forced to keep hidden within her. It was a lullaby her mother used to sing them she realized, and a sudden rush of bittersweet emotion flooded her.

She peered around the doorway and saw Thorin seated in one of their plush chairs, with a golden instrument placed between his knees and tilted up against his shoulder. His fingers danced across the strings, the source of the beautiful music. It was unlike any instrument she had ever seen.

She noticed he was also lost within the music he was creating, and the long-forgotten need to sing fluttered in her stomach. She found herself closing her eyes as her body began to sway in time with the melody. Faint, distorted memories surged up unbidden of her mother's face and hauntingly beautiful voice. She hadn't been able to conjure a memory of her mother for many years. And for the first time, since she was a young child, she lost herself to the music.

*****************

Thorin

He had awoken early with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as a slight sweat made the sheets of the bed cling to his chest. He grimaced as he ran a hand over his face. He looked over at Mistlynn who was still sleeping peacefully and sighed in relief. His nightmare had been disturbing, and he was not ready to share that part of his past yet. He had felt Mistlynn stir next to him as he fought to control the shaking of his body as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He couldn't allow her to see him like that. He was still reeling from the discovery of his grandfather's journal and of the disturbed ramblings. He leaned up against the headboard, breathing heavily as he ran a shaking hand through his sweat dampened hair. First the journal, now these confusing night terrors. He had to speak to Balin about this. But he couldn't bring himself to. Not yet. Just a few more days of peace.

He looked over at his sleeping wife, and he felt his anxiety loosen its grip on him. His gaze caressed her silhouette, her pale skin flawless and barely wrapped in the white silken sheet. He leaned down, allowing himself to nuzzle her neck before placing a loving kiss to her bare shoulder. She stirred slightly, his name escaping her lips as a contented sigh. He breathed her in, her scent and warmth soothing him. He smiled against her soft skin as he felt her surrender to sleep fully once again before he pulled himself away to slip out of bed without disturbing her.

He didn't dream of Frerin and Vili often, but when he did it was heart wrenching, no matter the many decades that had passed since they last walked among the living.

They had been there, during the time he would rather forget. But it was too soon, and the guilt was too fresh, especially since Bilbo was still visiting. He was happy that their friend had agreed to stay for the winter and travel home in the spring, but with every interaction, every meal and conversation the ice-cold voice of doubt and guilt whispered to him how close he had been to killing his friend over that accursed stone that was now locked away in the deepest crevices of the treasury vaults.

Instead of Dwalin and Bilbo, it had been Frerin and Vili standing before him in the newly reclaimed throne room, as he sat adorned in his deceased grandfather's godly royal robes. He could feel the cold, heavy pressure of the Raven crown sitting on his head. They had glared at him accusingly. The dragon sickness had vanished, its suffocating presence and serpent like hiss no longer had its deadly coils wrapped around his consciousness. He had begged and pleaded for forgiveness before their unforgiving gaze as they continued to stare down at him as he collapsed onto his knees.

"Please, I beg you. Forgive me." He rasped as he fought back the tears he felt burning behind his eyes. "I brought them home. We are home now."

"You are just like him." Frerin's pale lips moved, the hardness of his voice cutting Thorin to the very core of his being.

He shook his head desperately. "No Frer, No I am not him. I am nothing like him."

"You are a slave to that stone, just like our grandfathers were. There is no hiding from it, it is in your blood." Frerin pointed at him reproachfully. "It is not ours to keep, yet you hold on to it still. Do you think locking it away truly vindicates the bloodstains on our family name?"

"Tell me what I need to do?" He begged. "Tell me what I need to do, and I shall do it."

"Give it to the one who is meant to wield it." Vili's voice echoed in the massive cavern. "Or it will destroy you all."

Thorin was breathing heavily as an unsettling cold began to seep into him. "What … what do you mean wield it. It is a stone. A gem. Not a weapon."

Frerin and Vili both seemed to waiver, as if they were mirages in his fevered mind. Both images of his brothers flickered, distorting as his ears began to ring, "She is the heart, Thorin. Do not lose her. Only she can bring about the balance that was lost to our people."

Thorin sat back on his heels, staring in confusion as he watched them disappear, slowly disintegrating into glowing flakes of ash and smoke. "No." he breathed as he stumbled back to his feet, pulling Orcist from its sheath as the ash flurried and grew into a familiar shape. Serpent like eyes stared down at him menacingly as a blood curdling voice surrounded him.

"You cannot escape destiny, Thorin Oakenshield." Smaug hissed as smoldering ash became fiery red embers as a likeness of the fire drake manifested before his eyes. "You were never supposed to awaken from the sickness. You were supposed to be his to control."

Thorin bared his teeth in rage as his grip tightened on the hilt of Orcist. "I belong to no one!"

The image of Smaug cackled. "You cannot stop what is coming! You and all of your kin will perish. He will claim what is rightfully his!"

He felt his body shake with a thunderous fury. "I'll stand in your way. As I always have." His eyes glowed, like the deep waters of the sea ablaze with the orange fire of the setting sun. Black whisps of smoke and ash whipped around the flame body of Smaug.

“You will fall, in eternal shame, as your father and grandfather before you." The fire drake reared up, his black wings of smoke flaring out before lunging towards the enraged Dwarf King.

Thorin launched himself toward his reincarnated foe, Orcist held aloft and aimed toward the blackened heart of the beast. He could feel the heat of the raging fire drake as he sprinted towards him, prickling his skin as he drew closer with each passing second. Just as he was about to clash, to sink his sword into the drakes body, he felt as if he was dragged from his dream with a vice like grip. It was then that he had reeled awake, sweat beaded along his skin as his heart raced.

He had washed himself quickly, eager to chase away the evidence of his nightmare from his skin. He dressed quietly before slipping out of the bedroom and into the main living area. It wasn't long before he had a fire blazing in the fireplace. He made several attempts to read through waiting correspondence before he gave that up. His mind was still in shambles from his nightmare, its hidden meaning lost to him. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair, rubbing his face wearily as he tried to quiet his mind.

He stared into the fire for a few moments before his gaze wandered over to his old harp, sitting in the corner of the room. The desire to play welled up inside him. He couldn't remember when he had last played. He found himself sitting back down in front of the fire with the instrument leaning against him. He let his fingers drift over the strings, softly strumming the cords before he lost himself in the music.

He was brought back to the present when he heard an angelic voice join in with one of his Amad's favorite lullabies she used to sing to him and his siblings. He looked up, his fingers faltering slightly in shock as he watched Mistlynn sway in time with the melody he was playing. Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around herself as she sang along, her voice carrying with a soul searing power that reverberated in the room around them.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as the words fell from her lips flawlessly, the pure beauty of her voice hypnotizing him as he watched a whole new side of her unravel and bloom right before his very eyes. He felt his skin prickle as goosebumps erupted along his arms clear up to the nape of his neck as her voice carried the last notes in perfect harmony as their music faded, sinking into the walls of the mountain that surrounded them.

His mouth agape, he placed his harp upright as he slowly stood from his seat. She opened her eyes, blinking as if awakening from a trance. "I didn't know you could play such music. What kind of instrument is that? It is so beautiful." She smiled softly as she watched him approach her.

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle. "That was a harp. And I am very out of practice, you, on the other hand…" he trailed off as he linked his hands with hers. "Mistlynn…your voice…I had no idea you could sing like that."

Her smile grew bashful as she shrugged. "Oh, I haven't sung since I was a young child. Since before my mother died." Her smile faded slightly as her eyes became shadowed with a deep sadness. "My father didn't like me singing. He forbade me to do so after she passed on. She was teaching me. That lullaby was one of the last songs she taught me."

"Your father forbade you from singing?" Thorin couldn't believe what she was telling him. He fought to conceal the anger that began to well up inside of him. The idea of her father subduing her gifts from the Valar incensed him. He was determined to help her out of this protective shell she had erected around herself,

She shrugged again, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. "I think it reminded him too much of my mother." She wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her nose against his. "I would sing when I was alone of course, but as I got older, I just got too busy. Hearing you play that lullaby made me want to sing for the first time in decades. You play beautifully."

Thorin chuckled as he pulled her closer, his hands resting possessively on her waist. "Your performance was much more impressive M'eudail. But thank you." He nuzzled his nose with hers teasingly before capturing her smiling lips in an alluring kiss. Her giggle quickly became a muffled squeal as he pulled her back towards the chair he had been sitting on and directly into his lap. "Any other hidden talents you are keeping from me Kurdunuh?" He growled playfully into her neck as his hands wandered over the silk nightdress that hugged her body.

"You are one to talk, your royal stubbornness." She gasped in mock offense as she pressed her hands into his shoulders, forcing him to sit back so that she could see the teasing smirk on his face.

His hands fell to rest on the top of her bare thighs, allowing him to trace invisible patterns with his fingertips. He relished the delicious flush of pink that dusted her chest and the apples of her cheeks as she tried to squirm against his ministrations.

"I am not the one hiding a voice that could bring Mahal himself to his knees."

"I wasn't hiding it. The opportunity to share never presented itself." She shrugged. "Now, should we head down to breakfast?"

Her stomach fluttered in eager anticipation as she watched his smirk transform into a lecherous grin. "It is terrible form to skip right to second breakfast."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him in confusion. "We haven't had breakfast yet?" She couldn't help the squeak that escaped her lips as he jumped up from the chair, trapped in his arms before pinning her down on the couch, trapping her body under his.

"We have yet to indulge in our first breakfast." His lustful growl made her gasp as she felt his hands slip under her nightgown and travel up slowly, teasing her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I am ravenous for you above all else." He breathed hotly into her ear before teasing her earlobe with his teeth.

It wasn't surprising to anyone when breakfast was missed by the newlyweds.

**********

"So, how is married life treating you?" Bilbo smiled knowingly as he walked with Thorin along the carved path of the garden.

He had never seen Thorin so relaxed, a heart lifting exuberance radiated from the Dwarf King. He watched his friend smile with an ease he had only ever seen on Fili before a bashful huff of a laugh escaped him. "It is … very good." He looked down at the hobbit, who was chucking while he puffed on his pipe.

A couple, skillfully smoke circles floated ahead of them. "Good indeed." Bilbo chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would be greatly disturbed by the constant smile on your face."

"I do not walk around with a smile on my face." Thorin groused as he forced a grumpy scowl on his face. He succeeded to hold the scowl for only a few moments before he had to press his lips together to stop the smile threatening to take over his face once again. Bilbo laughed heartedly as he watched the Dwarf King's trademark scowl give away into a rueful grin.

"You have it bad my friend." Bilbo chortled as he shook his head. "Not that it's a bad thing. It is very good indeed. You and your people deserve this, Thorin."

Thorin looked down at his feet as he stopped walking, his smile fading slightly as he turned to face Bilbo.

"I fear it is the calm before the storm Bilbo. My people are still scattered throughout all Arda, and the alliance between the seven dwarven kingdoms is still in shambles. Some of the dwarven lords are not happy with my marriage to Mistlynn, two of which have refused to answer any correspondence since we retook Erebor, and I claimed the throne."

Bilbo cocked his head to the side as he studied Thorin, his mouth playing with his pipe. "They came when you called that meeting before the Quest?"

Thorin nodded. "They were not thrilled then, and it's obvious they still very much opposed to my claim."

"Are they not supposed to swear their allegiance to you? Being the descendant of Durin the Deathless?"

Thorin shrugged, his good-natured smile now completely gone. "That was the way of it, with my forefathers and theirs. My Irak'adad's infliction with the Arkenstone put a strain on many of our alliances. It fostered feelings of resentment amongst our people, and that only grew after the slaughter of our armies in the Battle of Azanulbizar. We are no longer a united people. And my One being of an unknown clan with a mixed heritage didn't help inspire much confidence in my ability to lead."

Bilbo frowned. "Didn't inspire confidence? What! You reclaimed Erebor! You fought against Smaug, defeated Azog and his army, you reestablished your alliances with Mirkwood and Dale …" He shook his head in irritation. "You were strong enough to fight against the influence of the Arkenstone."

Thorin shook his head. "It still affected me Bilbo and I have made many mistakes." He sighed heavily. "I don't allow myself to enter the treasury, I have the Arkenstone locked away deep in the mountain vaults. That is not a secret. No matter what I do, my Irak'adad's indiscretions keep making a reappearance." The admittance was bitter on his tongue, making him grimace. "During our honeymoon, I found one of my Irak'adad's journals." He began, his voice deep and heavy with some unspoken burden. He turned towards one of the benches that was placed alongside the garden walkway. He sat down and placed his elbows on his knees.

Bilbo cocked an eyebrow as he took a deep pull from his pipe. He sat down next to Thorin and let more smoke rings escape his mouth. He looked at Thorin's defeated pose before he nudged him with his shoulder and held out his pipe in offering. Thorin raised his head from his hands and looked at the pipe. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, much to Bilbo's relief. Thorin took a deep inhale from the pipe, held it deep in his chest, then let it out. He felt the tension leave him, as if escaping on the faint autumn breeze along with the exhaled smoke.

"Have you told Balin about it?" Bilbo asked, his tone neutral.

Thorin sighed again as he handed Bilbo back his pipe. "No. I've told no one."

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. "It was that bad huh?"

Thorin shook his head again. "The beginning was perfectly fine, but then the dragon sickness started to take hold, And his paranoia took on a whole new life." Thorin swallowed thickly. "It was really hard to read."

Bilbo was quiet, as he watched Thorin sit up straighter in his seat as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "A lot of it didn't make sense. Towards the end of the journal, from what I could tell, he got a letter delivered by some sort of bird he had never seen before. It was from a Dwarf King in the North, demanding the return of the Iklal Kurdu or he would march on Erebor and take it by force. That it was his kin's right to wield it. The timeline of the entry explains a lot of things… according to the date of the entry it was right before Thranduil came to collect his wife's necklace. And my Irak'adad denied his claim. He also became suspicious of the other Dwarf Lords; our alliances became strained after that as well. My Adad and I never could figure out what caused it. Now I know"

"Did this Dwarf King give his name?"

"Varric. He didn't give a name of his kingdom. But if he threatened war… he had some military backing."

Bilbo nodded, his mind churning with all this new information. "What is the Iklal Kurdu?"

Thorin shook his head again. "It means 'Cold Heart' in our tongue." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I've never heard of it."

"It must be terribly important if one King threatens another over it." Bilbo mused. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"I don't. It has to be a weapon of some kind. My family weapons have all been smithed by our own hands, we have nothing that has an unknown origin, especially in the time of my grandfather. Any weapon not made by dwarf hands was forbidden."

"That is a strange name for a weapon." Bilbo tapped his pipe against his chin thoughtfully. Thorin snorted in amusement.

"My thought exactly. Not a typical name for a weapon used in battle. I've had Ori go over records of our weapons, the ones that have gained notoriety amongst my people. He has found nothing that comes close to that name or description."

"What Dwarven Kingdoms are in the North?"

"The Grey Mountains. But they were settled by my forefathers. Dragons and Orcs were too much to fight off, so they came back here to Erebor and others to the Iron Hills. We have some mining camps farther North but that's it. No kingdoms have been established outside of Durin's folk, and they are loyal to me."

Bilbo hummed as he let out another couple smoke rings. "What about the White Kingdom." The hobbit let the question hang in the air, and it quickly became heavy between them. "Mistlynn was their princess correct? What is her father's name?"

Thorin blinked as he silently berated himself for not even considering Mistlynn's people. "She told me her Adad is a recluse, that he has forbidden any contact with any kingdom outside of the Northern Wastes."

"That is her father. What about her Grandfather?"

"I've never asked. And she has never volunteered the information." Thorin's tone became low and quiet. "Honestly Bilbo, I didn't even consider her people. Until she came, her people were just a myth."

"I'm not suggesting that Mistlynn is intentionally keeping things from you. From what I've gathered, she would rather forget her homeland, her people and begin anew here with you." Bilbo paused as he gave Thorin a pointed look. "But I doubt her people have stayed hidden for centuries. It may not be her father, but what of her grandfather? Or her ancestors? If some of these other Dwarf Lords are so upset that you have married her, it must be for a reason. Whether they know something of her kingdom or not, there is no way a kingdom of dragon slaying dwarves and elves have kept completely to themselves."

"I assumed they were upset due to her elven lineage. But word of my alliance with Dale and Mirkwood has reached them as well. My family's history with the Ironfists and the Stiffbeards have always been tedious. I wasn't surprised when they refused to assist me with my quest to reclaim Erebor." Thorin had stood up and began to pace in front of Bilbo who was still seated on the bench.

"You, along with the company, are the most forward-thinking dwarves I have heard of. Even your people here are starting to become more open minded when it comes to the other races. This will be seen as a threat to other clans, as I was perceived by you at the beginning of our quest. But I am sure you will be able to persuade them, especially with Mistlynn at your side. You just need to get to the bottom of this threat that your grandfather received, and the rest should fall into place. And I believe the answer lies with the White Kingdom." Bilbo closed his lips around his pipe as he continued to hum thoughtfully, outright ignoring the incredulous stare Thorin was giving him at that moment.

"I didn't see you as a threat." Thorin mumbled gruffly as he stopped pacing to look at Bilbo directly.

Bilbo tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Indeed, I was, my friend. A burden. A nuisance. A threat. No need to be ashamed of that. I had just as much to prove to myself as I did to you. Our friendship is the stronger for it." Bilbo swung his feet as he gave Thorin a cheery grin.

Thorin's lip twitched with a promise of a smile, but he couldn't allow it. Not with his thoughts racing with all Bilbo had given him to think about.

Bilbo was shrewd, and had a knack for sensing inner turmoil, especially when it came to his friends. "Why have you not spoken to Balin about this?"

Thorin let out a resigned huff as he looked down at his boots. "I've put Balin through enough with Dragon sickness. To have him read my Irak'adad's journal when he was in the height of his sickness …" he trailed off his thought before he brought his gaze back up to meet Bilbo's. "I've been having dreams since I read that journal. Dreams that don't make sense …" he stopped. His eyes shifted back down to the ground before him. "But they do."

Bilbo's brows furrowed as he watched Thorin's expression change from confusion, frustration, then suddenly realization.

"Durin's beard." Thorin exhaled, as he rubbed his face with his palm. "The Arkenstone, Mistlynn."

"I am sorry. What?" the hobbit shifted his weight forward as he looked at Thorin, intrigued.

"My dream. I had a dream of Frerin and Vili. They told me it was hers to wield. That it was never ours to keep."

Bilbo's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You're brother? What is hers to wield?"

Thorin swallowed thickly. His mouth became dry as if it was filled with sand. "The Arkenstone." He breathed.

*******

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My King...