#The Hobbit AU

[middleearthpixie]

I'll See You in My Dreams ~ Prologue

A/N: This is the sequel to my 2022 story, Where I Belong. I had no plans to write a follow up to that, since it seemed Noelle and Thorin’s story was told as far as it could go. But then, a few weeks ago, I found myself wondering what would happen if Thorin somehow came back to Noelle’s place and time? What if their story wasn’t quite finished? Anyway, here is, I hope, what will be the answer to those questions. And if you’re unfamiliar with Noelle and Thorin, here is where their story began… 

Summary: Noelle James knows soul mates exist, the trouble is, she just can’t seem to find hers. Especially since hers seemed to have existed only in the world of cinema and The Hobbit movies. No one believes she actually spent time in Tolkien’s Middle Earth and even fewer believe Thorin Oakenshield existed in her world, either. 

So when she finds herself unexpectedly alone on yet another Christmas, she has no way of knowing exactly what the universe has in store for her this time.The trouble is, this man claiming to be Thorin can’t possibly be him, for he died at the hands of Azog the Defiler at Ravenhill. She saw him die with her own eyes.

So, it can’t be him.

Or can it?

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Noelle James

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

I’ll see you in my dreams 

When all our summers have come to an end

I’ll see you in my dreams,

We’ll meet and live and laugh again

I’ll see you in my dreams, up around the riverbed

For death is not the end…

Prologue

Erebor

Thorin hadn’t realized he was humming until Thalia shot him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “What?”

“You’re doing it again.”

He bit back a sigh, setting down his fork. “I apologize. I’ve had a long day and have much on my mind. And for some reason, I cannot seem to pry the tune from my head.”

“But that song is like none I’ve ever heard.” Her forehead wrinkled, her thick, dark brows furrowing as she did so. In the flickering golden candlelight, that expression made her face, normally so round and full of laughter, look almost craggy and wizened. It wasn't the first time he’d thought so, but for some reason, it had troubled him far more often of late.

He shared supper with her every evening in her flat and until recently, it had been a highlight of his day. They got on well and she made him smile, and little by little, it seemed only natural that he should begin thinking about taking a wife. Taking her as his wife.

He hadn’t broached the subject yet, though, as the timing just never seemed quite right. Then the blasted song began echoing inside his skull. There were no lyrics at first, only the melody. But, lately, as he hummed, hints of words had begun forming in his brain.

But where had he heard any of it, for it sounded like no music he knew.

“Are you certain? I thought we heard it at Yule?”

She shook her head, the wooden beads in her beard clacking. “I know I’ve never heard it. Might you at least sing me some of it?”

He shook his head. “I recall no words, but only the music.” He reached for his napkin, dabbed at his lips, and then pushed back his chair to rise. “My apologies, Thalia. I think it would be best if I took my leave now.”

Her lips curved downward in a hint of a pout and the motion smoothed the furrows in her forehead as if an invisible filament connected them. “Have you found fault with my cooking?”

“No, of course not. It just as I said, I’ve much on my mind and I fear I’m not good company as a result.”

She rose, skirting the table to catch him by the wrist. “Perhaps a walk might clear your thoughts.”

“Thank you, but no. I think only sleep will help this time.” He patted her hand, then pulled free to strides toward the door. “I will see you come tomorrow, then.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He stepped out of her flat, pulling the door softly closed behind him. Flames danced behind globes of frosted glass in sconces mounted high along the labradorite stone walls that were slowly being polished back to their former glory.

Erebor. For so long, Thorin could only dream of reclaiming his home, of rightfully claiming his throne within those stone walls. Now that he had, it wasn't quite the dream come true he’d once imagined. No, he’d spent nearly six months recuperating from the wounds he’d received at Ravenhill, at hands of the pale orc Azog the Defiler, and when he’d done that?

The real work had begun.

It was a two-steps-forward-one-step-back process, but over the last six months, he could at least now see the signs of renovation, especially in the main levels of the kingdom. The lower levels, aside from the forges, still needed much in the way of work, but as he made his way up to the Great Hall, cracked, damaged, and sooty stone gave way to solid walls polished to an almost-mirror like finish. 

But he didn't stop at the Great Hall. Nor did he make his way up to the ramparts, where he’d preferred to go when he needed to think and clear his head. 

No this time, he went outside, nodding at the guard in the gatehouse as he left the warmth of the fortress to step into the darkness of the winter night. Snow drifted, blew this way and that, swirling wildly about him as he followed the narrow slate pathway away from Erebor. The pathway became a flight of cut-stone stairs, worn and crumbling in places, that led up behind his kingdom, toward a different fortress. One he did not often venture to without good reason. 

Ravenhill was not high on the list of his favorite places. In fact, he avoided it as much as possible. But for some reason, he felt drawn there this evening. The tune that had been playing in his head for the last few days grew louder now. And not only that, but the words that had been but fragments were fragments no more. Instead, they became words he knew, yet didn't know at all. 

Well, it ain’t no secret, I’ve been 'round a time or two. Well, I don’t know, baby, maybe you been around, too. Well, there’s another dance, honey. All you gotta do is say yes, and if you’re rough and ready for love, honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

The voice singing them in his head did not belong to him. It was raspier than his and not nearly as deep. And while he didn't know whose voice it was, he knew he would know the name, should he ever hear it.

Or perhaps he was just going mad again. 

Snow blew harder now, but he didn't really feel the cold. Didn't notice the flakes sweeping his nose, getting caught in his beard, in his hair. All he knew was the voice in his head grew louder as he neared the river. 

A vision swept before his eyes. A woman. With a long tangle of red hair. In his arms.

Well, it ain’t no secret, I’ve been 'round a time or two. Well, I don’t know, baby, maybe you been around, too. Well, there’s another dance, honey. All you gotta do is say yes, and if you’re rough and ready for love, honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

He closed his eyes against the rising voice inside his head. 

The voice grew louder still. 

A dull thud jarred through him as he dropped to his knees alongside the rushing river. 

The music swelled.

“Leave me in peace… Mahal…” he gritted, his hands pressing against his ears as if that would somehow block the sounds. 

It blocked nothing. It didn't even quiet them. Instead, the voice grew louder. 

Well, it ain’t no secret, I’ve been 'round a time or two. Well, I don’t know, baby, maybe you been around, too. Well, there’s another dance, honey. All you gotta do is say yes, and if you’re rough and ready for love, honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

Nausea swelled. Bile rose into the back of his throat. He gagged. He coughed.

The blackness came out of nowhere, roaring in his ears like that of Smaug the terrible just before he broke through Erebor’s front façade to torch Esgaroth to cinders. It filled his ears. It pressed into him from all sides. 

And with a final gulp, it swallowed him whole. 

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[tetchy-frog]

*Slides this into your feed*

Finding some peace in suburbia

[verkomy]

joel and ellie in the tolkien universe

you can get a print here: inprnt!

[mrkida-art]

Dragon King

[thorin]

AU where bilbo doesn't go to erebor with the company on that day where they all first met

half a year goes by where bilbo sometimes wonder what happened to those dwarves that raided his pantry. did they succeed in their crazy quest? were they safe? was gandalf safe?

gandalf was alive, but had been banished by thorin himself after he'd fallen to dragon sickness. now, gandalf needs bilbo to steal the arkenstone from thorin in order to give it to either dáin or fíli so he can become king instead, as thorin is clearly unfit to rule.

now what would happen next is the question......

[mismaeve]

Ashes of the Heart

↳ Ashes of the Heart, Thranduil x Fem!Reader, modern AU ↳ Requested by @fizzyxcustard Word Count: 2.3k TW: heavy angst, cursing, graphic descriptions, references to death A/N: This was such an amazing request to write, I enjoyed myself so much! I didn't know I could produce such angst, but here we are so read at your own peril. Any feedback is always welcome and much appreciated. Enjoy! 𓋼𓍊 Backstory: Thranduil who works in military as elite special operations leader, is leaving his lover to oversee a Navy SEALs mission. It's something he has done countless of times, only this time - his lover has a bad feeling about it.

«For how long?»

Your question was one that you had asked many times before. Always the same. A question without an answer as you watched him pack his duffel-bag, barely anything inside it, save for a few shirts and clean socks, and boxer briefs. His lack of an answer hung heavily within the four walls of your spacious bedroom.

“I see,” you sighed heavily. You knew well enough to trust that if he could, he would tell you. Begging and pleading would change nothing, and you had quickly adapted to a life of being kept in the dark. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, but it could drive you mad during those lonely nights when your fear for him became your greatest enemy. Scenario after scenario of every little thing that could have gone wrong – the image of your beloved injured or worse…

You shuddered.

“What is it, my love?” concern filled his pale eyes as his hand clasped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring his touch for the solitude that was to come.

“It feels different this time,” you confessed, your eyes dropping to your hands – a jumble of nervous fingers.

“How do you mean?” Thranduil asked softly.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen to you,” you whispered, your admission sending a painful jolt through your heart and filling your stomach with lead.

“Oh, my sweet, you know-”

“Yes, I know you’re never on the ground yourself. Believe me, I know this. But I can’t shake this feeling,” you interrupted him, desperately wanting him to understand and accept your concern.

You always let him go, never fussed or begged him to stay. You knew how important his work was to him – to the entire country and maybe even the world. His brilliant mind was the one hidden behind every successful operation. How could you keep him to yourself when everyone’s safety – including your own – depended on him?

You had adjusted, not only your life but your expectations as well. Only tonight, the sickening feeling of dread was like poison inside your mind, spreading its bile throughout your entire body.

“Oh, my darling,” Thranduil pulled you into his arms and kissed your hair. You held onto him for dear life, afraid of what might happen if you were to let go. Your premonition of tragedy only growing with each gentle stroke that trickled down your back, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

“I always come back to you, do I not?” he whispered against your hair, his body rocking yours back and forth slowly and tenderly, a simple motion meant to soothe your growing worry.

“But you never promise,” you pointed out. “You never promise to come back because even you know that there is still some danger to what you do and where you go,” you insisted, pulling away to look at the man you loved beyond any reason and doubt.

His pale eyes held yours, the understanding gleaming through from the depths of his own soul. He knew you were right.

“Believe me when I say that no force in this world would keep me from returning to you,” Thranduil said. “You are my home, my peace from the destruction that is our world. You’re my haven during a raging storm. Nothing will keep me away from you.”

You bit back the tears that had come unannounced and nodded. If only to please him, you would muster the last of your courage and strength. You swallowed the bitter lump of foreboding and forced yourself to smile. He deserved a proper and loving good-bye, not tears and childlike pleas.

“Be safe, will you?” you said softly and placed your palm to his cheek. Thranduil leaned into your touch with a reposeful sigh, his eyes closing briefly while he cherished this last moment between you.

“Always,” he whispered.

An hour later you were sat on your bed alone.

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Not a phone call or a text, no letters of any kind – Thranduil appeared to be fallen off this Earth entirely. It became harder and harder to remind yourself that he wasn’t allowed to communicate while planning and overseeing an operation. With each day that went by without a word from him, your unease had turned malignant – eating and tearing away at your mind like a disease for which there was no remedy.

You had a number to call in case of an emergency, but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. This wasn’t the first time when he had been gone for months on end, you had survived that, surely you would persevere this time as well. If only it weren’t for that pesky feeling that wouldn’t go away. Without knowing how or why, you knew with crystal-clear certainty that something was wrong. You had known it long before he had walked out the door.

Another month had gone by without any news of his whereabouts when you awoke with a scream, tiny beads of sweat covering your forehead. Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, threatening to burst any minute with every shallow breath you drew. Wheezing and gasping for air with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to catch your breath while still being held captive by the nightmare that had just haunted you.

You jumped at the sound of the doorbell, a yelp escaping your trembling lips. Fumbling with the light, your fingers still shaking from your vivid dream, you struggled to switch it on. Tumbling over your own sheets in your rush to get out of bed, you nearly fell out with your face first.

With your heart lodged inside your throat, you rushed to the door and peered through the tiny peephole. A well-dressed man was standing on the other side, patiently waiting for you to open. In your flustered state you hadn��t immediately recognised the familiar face of Jerry, a man who worked closely with Thranduil. Mindless of your current attire, you unlocked and threw open the door.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, not bothering to hide the panic that laced your voice.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced in the middle of the night, but I fear this couldn’t wait for a more decent hour,” Jerry’s tone was calm and collected, a blatant contrast to your own disheveled self.

“Tell me,” you urged him. The sinking feeling in your stomach warning you that the news he bore were far from good. A nauseating wave of hot and cold reverberated through your entire body, your insides twisting and churning in painful anticipation.

“Let’s talk inside, shall we?” Jerry offered with a quick nod in the direction of your apartment.

“I need to know, Jerry,” you insisted as the two of you had taken your seats on the couch at his request.

A heartbeat passed before your husband’s highly esteemed colleague began divulging the events that had taken place during the operation. It appeared that there had been a leak, and the entire campaign had been compromised from the very beginning. The team of Navy SEALS had been deployed as planned, their movements tracked and monitored by intelligence officers, the entire operation led and overseen by Thranduil as chief elite special operations leader. Everything had seemed to go as planned when their systems had suddenly crashed and shut down entirely, leaving them in the dark about the movements of their men on the ground.

“Well? Go on,” you pushed for Jerry to continue after he had taken a brief pause.

“I’m sorry, I-,” he cut himself off and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping, clearly unable to go on.

“For fuck’s sake, tell me!” you choked out through gritted teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. You felt you couldn’t breathe but you had to know. After everything that they had put you through, they owed you this much.

Jerry lifted his head, his face drawn and utterly defeated. His look was that of pity, like he knew what he was about to do to you. Nonetheless, you stood your ground in defiance, even as your heart had already begun to crack and splinter.

The supposed glitch in their systems had turned out to be a cleverly crafted ruse, a temporary disabling of the sensory motion detectors orchestrated by the terrorists so their drones could slip in undetected. When their back-up systems had picked up the slack, it had already been too late. Several explosions had riddled the base of their headquarters as the drones had launched their assault. A perfectly plotted mission to eliminate the brilliant and tireless minds behind the curtains. All turned to ash.

No bodies had been recovered from the scene.

An ear-piercing cry filled your apartment, threatening to shatter your windows – just as your own heart had shattered into a million pieces. You screamed and wailed until your throat burned raw, your chest painfully heaving with each useless breath you took. Unaware of the steady arms that had wrapped around you, holding your convulsing frame, you continued to unleash your blazing agony.  There was no end in sight, no promise of a respite, however temporary, only grief – dark and thick, and unyielding. An endless sorrow took over your body and promised to never let go. There was nothing left for you, only pain forever etched in your soul at his sudden departure.

You knew with uncanny certainty that you had died that night. In his passing, he had taken you along with him.

Three weeks earlier

Jerry was pacing up and down the narrow corridor, his thoughts racing quicker than he could pay attention to. His once sharp and focused mind had become nothing more than a blur. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to do this, his regret already eating away at his conscience.

He couldn’t do it.

Jerry stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He slowed down his throbbing mind by focusing on his breathing, a practice he employed whenever his wits threatened to abandon him. If he was to have this particular conversation, he would need his devices to remain cool and collected, even if his counterpart appeared to had lost his.

He wouldn’t do it.

With a nod of quiet determination, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his colleague’s room.

“What is it that you do not comprehend?” he hissed in anger.

“I don’t understand why you’re willing to put her through this when it’s so uncalled for,” Jerry argued back albeit his voice lower and gentler than that of his friend.

“Uncalled for?! Look at me! Who am I to condemn her to loving a monster?” Thranduil spat in burning fury.

“She loves you, you know she does. She’ll love you regardless of how you look,” Jerry tried to make him see reason, but Thranduil only shook his head in dismissal.

“No.”

“Coward,” Jerry stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest. His own defiance preventing him from backing down.

“Fuck you, Jerry.”

“You’re a coward. Because why else would you ask me to tell your wonderfully loving wife, who probably at this very moment wishes for nothing more than your safe return, that you have died? You say it’s for her, but I think it’s your own vanity and fear that drive you to do this. That’s not love or mercy.”

Thranduil regarded him in silence, his right eye not blinking. The sight of him was horrific – the left side of his face was covered in bandages, his previously golden-white hair now burnt off entirely, leaving a patchy scalp riddled with burn-blisters. What was left of his skin was red and swollen. His chest was submerged underneath countless burn dressings, his left arm wrapped in medical gauze – from his fingertips to his shoulder. He couldn’t see Thranduil’s legs, but he imagined his left leg was in no better shape than the rest of him.

Jerry schooled his features, the last thing his colleague needed was to see pity in his eyes.

Thranduil turned his head away from his friend, his gaze drifting to the lone window of his hospital room.

“It’s because I love her, that I have to do this,” he began quietly. “I’ve no doubt that she would love me despite my injuries. She would want to nurse me back to health, without a complaint or single regret. She’d do anything for me.”

“It’s because I love her, that I don’t wish this kind of life for her. A life stuck with me, caring for me while I’m slowly consumed by my rage. I’ve become a disfigured cripple who may never walk again or regain the use of his arm. Half of my face has been melted off straight to the bone,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“If I haven’t become a monster yet, it’s where I’m headed. I am angry at the entire world and that anger will only grow with time. I can’t subject her to share her life with an ungrateful, bitter beast. Not when she deserves to live.”

Jerry heard Thranduil’s breath hitch ever so softly, the sound of it piercing his heart like a bullet. It was gut-wrenching to witness his close friend be reduced to this – a heap of charred flesh with a broken spirit.

“She won’t survive it,” he said quietly.

Thranduil turned his head, a sad smile playing on the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of genuine pride gleaming in his good eye.

“She’ll think so too, that there is no surviving this. But she’s strong,” his smile widened knowingly. “Fierce. Even if she may not know it yet.”

“What if you one day, say a year from now, regret your decision? What if you find yourself wanting to find her?” Jerry asked.

“I doubt that will ever happen. But if it did…,” Thranduil trailed off and paused.

“I’d pray that she could find it in her to forgive me and would gladly spend the rest of my life trying to earn that forgiveness.”

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𓋼𓍊 Thranduil Tag → @coopsgirl @missymoo02 @imsorare @ioitsmeri1

If anyone wishes to be either removed or added to my taglist, let me know ♡ ↳ Maeve's Taglist ↳ Requests ↳ Masterlist

[heyitsjustmoi]

New chapters are up! Check out how Thorin, King of Erebor, blushed just because Bilbo asked him to be his friend. What an adorable loser Thorin is hahaha!😄

[mordellestories]

Chapter 8 art

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

turns out I have no self control and started writing a tangled au (and you can't stop me)

more even more bc I require constant validation

[heyitzbud]

Fili is just so heavy on the mind lately. Thinking about a Fili who survived the battle of the five armies. Ends up injured by the orc but survives, thorin does not. Having the weight of not only losing his uncle, his king, but of now *becoming* said king at such a young age. Healing from his injuries. Recreating a once thriving kingdom, not only his own but keeping relations and rebuilding Dale. The weight of it all, mentally and physically, i fear the toll it would take on him. Sure he has others to help mentor and guide him, Balin is a huge help, but even so.

[dragon-pups]

Arda Marauders 8/8 Squad

Firstly big shout out to @shadowthestoryteller for picking out and naming most of the Batch's steeds, I am not a horse girlie (affectionate) and wouldn't of had a clue where to start. So thanks Shadow💞.

This may stay as a fun art project, I currently have plans to write it, but my brain chemicals don't always agree with me.

The story starts when season three ends and I have the major beats of the batch's adventures before the hobbit planned out. Once I know how the season ends I'll have a better idea on how to begin. Either way if you want character beats or screenshot moments (one-shots) that may or may not be in their story just ask and I'll fulfill to the best of my abilities.

Individual Character Cards:

Echo

Hunter

Wrecker

Tech

Crosshair

Omega

Batcher

[tetchy-frog]

Thorn!

Just reposting a quick/messy Howl!Thorin I drew for a lovely person in my ask box for easy access :D

[laurfilijames]

Spark To A Flame

Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 6,512

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of injuries. Unprotected intercourse. Slight breeding kink. Cum play.

Summary: With the threat of another attack looming closely, Fili defies Thorin's orders, resulting in an argument between them and Fili to go in search of the ponies, as well as a quiet moment with you.

A/N: I've wanted to write a spat between Thorin and Fili for a while. They are equally as stubborn here and ironically both in the wrong, and are far too proud to realize it.

---

It was impossible to sleep despite how tired and achy your body was; staring into Fili's cerulean eyes as he laid across from you taking precedence over giving into the rest your bruised limbs craved since the accident.

"I'm sorry," Fili whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he reached his hand that wasn't tucked up under his head to touch your soft cheek.

"For what?" you questioned, unsure what he could possibly be sorry for.

He shrugged his shoulder that wasn't propping him up, his features scrunching up as he began to think of how to explain himself.

"For waiting this long to admit how I feel for you." He blew out a long sigh. "What if I had lost you before you knew?"

"But you didn't, Fili," you assured. "I'm right here, as is everyone else." You reached forward and brushed a stray curl from his face, giving him a gentle smile. "As far as I'm concerned we have all the time in the world, but I don't mind making up for what we wasted."

He chuckled lightly as you leaned over to kiss his lips, unable to feel satisfied with the amount you already had kissed them, your hand carding up his chest that radiated warmth onto your palm.

His thumb smoothed back and forth on your cheek, and when you slowed your kiss to a stop, he looked at you with concern.

"You're cold."

"Hmm, a little," you confirmed, having opted for more privacy over warmth when it came to choosing your sleeping location.

"C'mere," he cooed, tugging you closer to his bare chest where you happily nestled your face into it. You slipped your arm over his waist, letting your fingers travel languidly up and down his back, and through your touch it seemed more heat poured from his skin, his chest rising and falling deeply with breaths you assumed were controlling the latent, but quickly increasing want within him.

In return, his hands began their exploration of your body, slowly teasing the hem of your thin tunic further up your midsection, his palms emitting heat onto your freshly exposed skin wherever they landed.

Fili met your lips tentatively first - like he knew as soon as he tasted you on his tongue he would no longer be able to control what he was forcing himself to keep suppressed - only to increase his demand over your mouth the moment a breathy moan passed your parted lips.

His heavy body rolled on top of yours to guide you onto your back, his vast thigh landing between yours, and with one sweeping motion of his knee against the inside of your leg, Fili parted them to allow space for him to settle against you.

With a forceful grip on your chin, Fili clutched your jawline with his thumb and finger while his tongue filled your mouth and rolled against yours the same time his hips ground at your center. Your nails tore at his back, clawing for reprieve from this tormenting ache you were starting to realize was more a risk of death than any explosion or orc ambush was.

His hand loosened its hold on your jaw, trailing slowly but with enough pressure to assure you he had complete control over you, down your neck that drummed with a frantic pulse, all while his kiss became more furious and his hips pressed harder on yours.

You knew your skin would be raw and tender from the assault he put on it with his beard; the scruff hairs scratching you with every movement, causing heat to spring to the surface where he abraded your sensitive flesh, his face moving south to your chest where you pressed it up to meet him with the arch of your back.

Fili growled, the sound of one of his kin snoring loudly nearby disrupting his lusty inebriation, and with a heavy sigh he peered down at you ferociously, his blue eyes steely with a passion that made your heart rate pick up speed.

His mouth flew back to your neck with a silent vow to ignore your surroundings, his lips sucking and tongue licking in an effort to capture your taste, the absence of his mouth on yours allowing you to breathe out a suppressed whine that you struggled to keep quiet.

The salty sweetness of your skin made his mouth water, intoxicating him in a way he knew would be hard to sober from and would seek again and again, no amount of ale or pipeweed able to sate him like you did.

Dragging his teeth down your neck to scratch over the thin skin covering your collarbone, Fili continued his pursuit, and landing on your peaked nipple that revealed itself through your tunic, he sucked on it harshly, pulling it into his mouth with his talented lips to make it harden even more.

A cry slipped from you, the noise followed by Dwalin snorting loudly after likely being woken briefly from your disruption, forcing Fili to pause his efforts.

He glanced behind him, watching his comrade turn in his bedroll, his beast-like snores beginning again immediately.

Not having forgotten what he was doing, Fili latched onto your other nipple, soaking this side of your shirt with his saliva, the abandoned one left to the elements as the cold air clung to the wet material to keep it painfully raised. His hand replaced his mouth, instead adjusting himself to kiss you to help muffle your soft whimpering which only became heightened as he continued his exploration of your body, the hardness between his legs rolling and pressing into you expertly.

Growling against your lips, he gripped your breast with barely-contained barbarity before slipping it down your waist, softly compared to his previous actions; the ticklish sensation causing you to arch into him. Landing at the top of your leggings, his hand dove between the material and your skin, his fingers making contact with your wet, waiting sex, and you moaned desperately into his mouth, meeting your tongue with his faster in response to the pleasure he had you drowning in.

You clawed at his back, pulling him closer to you in a muted plea to never cease, rocking against his hand to increase what was already making you feel blinding heat build in your core.

All too suddenly, Fili tore himself away from you, inhaling sharp breaths to regain his lost resolve.

"We shouldn't," he whispered, a poor attempt to convince both of you as he looked at you hungrily.

"No, we shouldn't," you agreed, the conviction in your own words a farce. "We can't. Not here."

"No," he shook his head, wiping his hand over his beard with a desperation for patience and countenance.

Your hands wrapped from his back around to his chest, your fingers twisting pathways through his chest hair, coaxing him to lean down over you again and reattach his lips to yours.

"You're making this impossible," he said in a gruff voice, not removing his mouth from yours.

"I'm sorry," you fibbed, smiling as you nudged the strain in his trousers with your core, causing him to hiss.

"You are not."

"No, I'm not," you admitted, sighing as you finally accepted that nothing more would be happening despite both of you wanting to plunge into the depths of rapture that you were already wading in.

Fili pressed a lingering kiss upon your swollen lips again, whispering as he pulled away. "I'm due to take watch next anyway, and it's best we aren't caught by poor Ori coming to get me," he chuckled, sitting back on his heels to peer down at his obvious arousal.

Fili reached for his tunic and slipped it over his head, allowing you to admire the flex of his muscles as his body shifted back into his clothes.

"You get some rest, eh?" he advised with a gentleness in his voice. "You're going to need it."

With a wink and another self-satisfied chuckle, Fili stood, his expression changing to a wince, and hobbled over toward the front of the cave.

The night was quiet; allowing Fili to use his ears to seek out any potential dangers as opposed to his eyes that could barely see a thing from how dark it was. He looked up at the sky, the thick clouds that threatened rain covering any light the moon was giving, making him wonder if its shade was more yellow or silver tonight and what pattern of stars he was missing out on.

He struck a match against the side of the rock he sat upon and brought it to his pipe, lighting it and inhaling the sweet pipeweed gifted to him by his dear friend who's wearied eyes thanked him as he covered his yawns with his crocheted mitts when Fili sent him inside for warmth and sleep.

There wasn't much to listen to aside from the occasional hoot from a nearby owl and the slight breeze rustling in the trees, allowing Fili to simply sit and enjoy the quiet, sighing calmly into the cool night air as he finally acknowledged the pain in his leg he had been minimizing and the persistent ache between them that called for his attention above all else.

As his thoughts began to wander back inside the cave with you, thinking of what you had done so far and all that was left unfinished, a scent of smoke different from what came from his pipe filled his nostrils, making him sit up straighter from against the rock face he was leaning on.

Keeping still and even holding his breath in an effort to hear better, Fili waited for any indication of where the source of the smoke was coming from, his eyes scanning the area carefully through the darkness until he finally spotted a glimmer of flame off in the distance in the northwest corner of the forest.

His eyes remained fixed on the orange glow for long enough to observe that it wasn't moving, making the assumption it was where the orcs had set up their camp, and deciding he would stay on watch for the rest of the night to ensure they remained in the same location, Fili leaned back again, placing his pipe between his lips, his gaze locked on his enemy.

"Fili, why didn't you wake me?" Kili's groggy voice sounded from his left as he emerged from the cave with the subtlety of a goat. "Was I not meant to take watch after you?"

"Hmm," Fili confirmed, his tired eyes still watching where the smoke wafted up from the treetops in the dim light of the early morning.

"Then why-" his brother paused, following his line of sight as he stretched his arms in the air. "Oh."

Fili glanced up at him, his eyebrow cocked, watching as Kili figured it out on his own without him wasting the little energy he had left to explain.

"Does Thorin know?"

"Not yet." Fili admitted, slowly getting to his feet, his leg sore and stiff, his limbs plagued with even more ache than before. "They haven't moved all night. It's difficult to tell if they're seeking us out or waiting for us to walk into another one of their traps."

Kili stood staring ahead, mulling over his brother's words in his mind, his expression serious.

"You can take over now," Fili grinned, clapping his hand firmly on Kili's shoulder, the force making him stumble and rebalance, and left with a limp to head inside the cave.

Thorin stood beside Dwalin in the center of the company's temporary dwelling, the remaining members of the company moving around them to prepare for setting back out as they stood like two immovable pillars, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

"Uncle," Fili interrupted, earning an annoyed glance from Dwalin and an unreadable one from Thorin. "The orcs have set up camp over on the Northwest corner of the forest. I watched them all night and it doesn't appear they've moved, but I'd bet the Arkenstone they're about to begin their search for us again."

Thorin gave a curt nod as he processed his nephew's words, and hearing a dismissive snort from Dwalin, Fili turned to glare at him.

"Hogwash. They aren't lookin' fer us, lad. That attack was random."

Fili opened his mouth to speak, only to be quieted when his Uncle spoke first.

"Dwalin is right. We will set out as planned, with a couple of groups splitting off to search the forest for the ponies as we go."

"Thorin I don't-"

"Fili. We need to move on, this venture is already taking longer than intended. We need not waste any more time."

With a clench of his jaw and a long, frustrated sigh through his nostrils, Fili decided to let his concerns dissolve, Thorin and Dwalin clearly not concerned over the possibility of another ambush, and stalked over to his bedroll where you stood repacking your bags, steeling himself with a deep breath in order to disguise his hobbled gait and the anger coursing through him.

"Morning," he smiled, tensely at first, but the sight of you instantly turned it genuine and helped wash away his fatigue and weight of carrying the worry Thorin chose to ignore. "How did you sleep?"

His voice was tender, and almost bashful, and when you slipped your arms up around his neck, his cheeks blushed pink.

"I didn't sleep much at all," you admitted. "I kept wondering when you were coming back."

You looked at him with concern, seeing the strife and fatigue settling in his blue eyes turn them a stormy hue, making you rub your fingers back and forth at the base of his neck to help ease the tension you felt in his shoulders.

"Fili, what's wrong?"

His eyelids fell shut, basking in the brief moment of reprieve you graced him with, making him wish he could fall asleep in your arms and forget about everything else.

"They're just two stubborn rams, is all," he jeered, nodding his head in the direction of Thorin and Dwalin.

"That's nothing new," you spoke through a slight grin before searching his eyes again in knowing there was more that was plaguing him.

Fili sighed, his hands finding your waist to clutch as he sought reassurance. "No, it isn't. Though I really wish they would listen. Maybe it's because I've been awake for too long and I'm making this bigger than it is, but I can't help but worry."

Realizing he still hadn't explained everything to you based on your quizzical look, he breathed out again and continued.

"I watched the orcs all night. I know where they've set their camp and it's very close to the path Thorin wants to take. I do not know if they'll move on from there, or hang around to see if we come across again."

"Are you worried about another attack?"

"How can I not be?" Fili leaned his forehead against yours, praying to Mahal he would be able to keep you and everyone else safe.

Heavy boots tread across the soft, earth floor, the pace of the company sluggish and exhausted and unable to hide the remnants of injuries as they plodded along; the wishes to relocate their ponies ever prominent in their increasingly-less hopeful hearts.

Fili readjusted his pack on his shoulder, turning back to glance at you, his expression a combination of protectiveness and something else you couldn't quite place.

His gait continued to waver from its usual confident stride, the pain and fatigue that burdened him already and now the addition of his worry revealing itself the further you carried on.

You reached forward and laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, the corners of your mouth lifting up when he gave a firm one in return.

Up ahead, Thorin paused, turning to face his cortege.

"Bofur, Ori, make your way West. Keep your eyes open for any signs of the ponies. Kili, Fili, I want you headed East off the path. We will all meet directly North before the day's end."

Fili felt heat rise up through him, watching as Ori and Bofur agreed without question and took a few steps off the path in the direction of where the orcs had been.

"Thorin," Fili barked, confused at why he would be sending them walking directly into a possible trap. "Did you not listen to me?"

"We need supplies, Fili. It's a risk we must take in order to find the ponies."

"Ori, Bofur," Fili called, forcing his friends to turn to him with an uncertain look. "Do not go West. Stay with the company until we are sure there are no orcs near our set course."

"Fili!" Thorin shouted, storming over to him quickly to grip the furs on the collar of his coat. "You dare defy my orders?"

"We are still injured and the orcs are many in number. The chances of surviving another attack with just two of them is scarce."

As Fili held his Uncle's challenging stare, he stood tall, refusing to back down, his rebellion only further souring the scowl on Thorin's face.

"As I said, we need to retrieve our supplies or we will be in just as much danger as going to look for them. How much longer can we go without food or medicine, and how much longer can you walk on that leg?" Thorin hissed, giving him a dismissive look. "We all survived the initial attack…"

"And I will not stand by and watch another one happen! You already put us in danger once by going this way in the first place. You knew the enemy would be here. Had you listened to my suggestion of taking the other-"

Thorin lunged at him, his face inches from his, his knuckles white as he clenched harder at his disobedient heir. "That route was longer and just as dangerous! Do not second guess my authority, Fili!"

"I second guess it when you give me too many reasons to!"

Thorin's grip tightened on his jacket as he pressed his fists into Fili's chest with a warning shove, his temper rising exponentially, his voice lowered but powered by so much rage that it didn't need volume to get his point across."Fili, you know nothing of-"

"I know enough to not let it happen again!" Fili spat, continuing to contend despite what consequences would come of it, his arms forcing Thorin's to release him as he pushed back at his Uncle's chest to free him of his grip.

"Do not disrespect me! I am your King!" he bellowed, making Fili almost laugh at what lengths Thorin would go to in order to spare his pride and re-establish his rein.

"Then do not disparage me! I am your heir, your kin! I have a say and deserve not to be dismissed by you. You have forced me to sit back and let bad things happen too many times, Thorin, and I refuse to anymore."

You felt frozen in place as you watched the argument happen between Fili and your King, feeling like you hadn't taken a breath in ages and that your mouth would never hold moisture again until finally Fili turned away from him and stomped over to you to the best of his ability, his hand gently taking hold of your elbow.

"Let's go," he ordered softly, leaving the answer as to where that was unclear.

Still shocked from what you had just witnessed, you followed him easily, allowing him to guide you to wherever he needed to go in order to cool off, the question of your safety not a concern in knowing his fury would be enough to scare off even the most terrible creatures.

Once sure you were out of earshot, you finally allowed one of the many questions on your mind to slip past your lips as you trotted alongside the fuming Prince who still had a hold of you by the hand.

"Where are we going?"

He glanced at you without fully turning his head, his expression a mix of anger and something that looked beguiling with how his eyes were cast downward to meet yours.

"To look for the ponies," he said matter-of-factly, confusing you even more.

"Is that safe?" you asked without a second thought, not able to hide your surprise after the events that occurred only moments ago, pausing in your strides momentarily.

"I know better than him what and where is safe," Fili said confidently, neglecting to halt his own hindered steps, the emphasis on 'him' revealing he wasn't going to let this situation go any time soon.

Blinking, you sighed and continued following him, thinking how stubbornness ran true and strong in the Durin bloodline, the corners of your mouth pulling upward hesitantly as you kept to yourself how similar he was to his Uncle despite not currently wanting to be.

"Fili, did we not come from this direction?" you asked after a while, convinced now that your surroundings had begun to look familiar and the odd shape of a tree or valley off to the side became recognizable, and you cursed yourself for not having paid more attention to your route; your focus solely on keeping an eye out for signs of your lost equines, but your distraction primarily at the fault of the gorgeous Prince limping a step ahead of you who radiated an intense air from him as his frustrations turned into something more tangible.

"We did," he confirmed, stopping beside a smooth boulder nestled comfortably between various trees and lush greenery, grabbing both of your hands to hold in his as he pulled you before him.

Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him quizzically, your expression asking for your curiosity to be answered as to why you were backtracking.

"Sometimes," he began, dipping his head to reach close to your lips without touching them, his eyes flickering across your features. "I like to retrace my steps."

His hands slowly abandoned yours, moving instead to hold onto your waist where they barely made contact, the sensation of his fingers ghosting up along your sides making you sigh longingly. Your tunic lifted away from your skin as his hands forced it to travel along with them, exposing your warm flesh to the fresh air, and unconsciously, your fingers began working at the fastens of your jacket to allow Fili to continue revealing any part of you he wished to see.

His lips brushed yours teasingly, the roughness of his hands scratching your sides, the sensation making your nipples harden and ache for his attention.

"There are other things I like to retrace as well," he purred, his voice low and sultry, his fingers continuing to explore your midsection in the places he had before, the memory of his touch etched into you and reigniting the fire that had settled into embers awaiting to be woken again.

Your eyelids slipped closed, battling with yourself over giving in to what you so fiercely wanted or ignoring the cruel temptation and continuing on with the intention of finding the ponies, only to be disrupted when Fili picked you up and sat you atop the rock beside where you had been standing.

"Fili," you breathed, his name used as the weakest plea, not truly wanting to stop him from settling between your spread legs as he did now, his hands gripping your hips tightly before slipping them beneath your shirt where he tugged it past the crest of your breasts and over your head.

"Here?" you asked, a worried expression decorating your face as you glanced at his that appeared too carefree and slightly mischievous. "After everything that's happened?"

"Especially so," he answered, confidently. "I need you."

The way he stared at you with such surety made any reservations vanish, the intensity in his unbelievably blue eyes enough to convince you it would be impossible to resist each other any longer than you already had.

Fili leaned in, capturing your lips in a needy kiss, your mouth easily parting to allow his tongue the access it forcibly demanded.

Sighing into his mouth, you met his kisses with a matched eagerness, your fervor growing so rapidly it made your head spin. Your fingers tangled in his tresses, and with a slight press against the back of his head, you pulled yourself closer to him, scooching your body to the edge of the rock so your core was firm against his belly; the ardor in your movements causing Fili's to become even more intense and desperate.

Roughly, his hands tore at your trousers, tugging the laces open enough to allow them to slide over your bottom, the material chafing your thighs as he ungraciously peeled them away from your jittery legs.

Feeling too exposed and at risk, but not enough to care, you relished in the freedom granted to you in being naked; the cold, smooth rock under your seat contrasting cruelly with your searing skin, the slight breeze rustling leaves in overhead trees the same as it was your hair, the air mimicking Fili's beard to tickle you in places he hadn't yet.

Beginning to work at removing his jacket, your fingers fumbled over the weathered leather, your dexterity compromised by such inebriating lust, and just as you succeeded at discarding it, Fili grabbed your hands and planted them behind you, forcing you to arch your back in such a way your breasts collided with his waiting mouth.

"Fili," you moaned, the sensation of his hot tongue on your charged flesh making you want to beg for more instead of requesting one of the many other things you needed. "I want to see you."

His grip on your wrists tightened a moment before releasing them, and immediately you clutched at his tunic and ripped it over his head, your fingers exchanging the moss they clawed into for the thick skin and dense hair on his chest. Wasting no more time in freeing him from his trousers that were stretched to the point the laces revealed what they tried to conceal, your mouth watering at such a sight, you slid your hands down his belly and pushed at the leather hanging loosely from his waist.

His veined shaft sprang out, bouncing in the open space between your bodies, his size unsurprising to you, but encouraging more slick to gather in your folds in preparation for the assault you would endure from it.

Fili hissed when you reached out to take hold of the hot, silky flesh in your hand, his head tipping back in a request for restraint as you stroked it from tip to base and back again; the sight of his chest heaving and pulse thrumming wildly in his neck spiking your desire to a level you knew you couldn't leave unfulfilled.

With an assertive grip, Fili took hold of your outer thighs and pulled you closer to him, his head breaching your entrance, the contact of your naked heat against his stiff member making you suck in a rickety breath.

He was met with resistance as he pushed into you, slowly stretching you inch by inch and pausing when your moans grew louder and your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, allowing a moment of respite and consideration before ascending into the inevitable onslaught of pleasure.

His lips connected with yours softly, and remaining still and only halfway inside you, he kissed across to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, his moustache tickling your skin to cause shivers to burst over your entire body. Finding the hollow of your neck, he focused there, the sensation letting you sigh out a long breath that showed you were beginning to relax, cuing him to proceed in filling you to the hilt while his lips continued to add to the plethora of stimulation that would lead to your demise.

Dragging out of you, he pushed back in, his teeth scraping on your neck as he quickly let his caution fall, and wanting to see what he was capable of doing to you, you rolled your hips forward to match the tempo of his developing thrusts.

It didn't take long to sink into a natural rhythm; your bodies working together as if they had time and time again, the lust and love shared for each other set ablaze like kindling introduced to latent coals.

Fili knew this wouldn't last long, feeling the unavoidable climb of his orgasm taking hold of him faster than ever before; bursting under his skin as he succumbed to every exquisite feeling of you after having wanted nothing else since the day he first set eyes on you.

Attempting to keep kissing you, he pressed his mouth to yours, tangling your tongues until the pleasure became too much and distracted him from his task, resulting in sharing open-mouthed, panting breaths as his hips slapped into yours erratically.

Your fingers raked through his hair, signaling your own proximity to detonation, effectively spurring him on to chase that explosive, damning high, his efforts at quieting himself executed in the form of feral grunts and relentless force as he pummelled into your wetness.

His breathing became increasingly ragged as he neared his end, and in a blur of awareness, came to the realization he shouldn't finish inside you.

Slower, he willed himself, trying to extend this bliss with you for as long as he could, but each drag of his engorged cock through your tight channel kept him toppling ever closer to the edge.

"Will you be by my side when I am King?" he asked, his voice hoarse with ecstasy, his own words and thoughts of making you his Queen to love and bear his heir causing him to quiver with the most intense rapture.

"Yes, Fili," you gasped, your climax lingering just beneath the surface, your walls choking him and sending him into a barbaric frenzy. "I'm yours."

A possessiveness washed over him, his own wishes enhanced by your constant encouragement, dragging him further into a haze he didn't want to emerge from.

He growled with frustration, bucking into you harder and harder with each thrust, wanting nothing more than to fill you; to claim you as his and allow his seed to saturate your most intimate depths.

The thought alone drove him to his end, but before he let himself indulge in his selfish desire, he pulled out of you and gripped his cock that was wet and warm from you, using your slick that coated it to pump his shaft until he took aim at your lower belly and painted you with white spurts.

You whined; disappointed by the loss of him and also at being interrupted at the point of climax, but your pleasure continued in seeing yourself covered in his thick seed that decorated your stomach and waiting sex.

With his belly rising and falling in the aftershocks of his high, Fili swiped his fingers through the mess he created on your skin and dragged it between your folds, driving them deep inside you and hooking them to massage you expertly until you took up your song again.

You looked so perfect; eyes screwed shut and breasts heaving as you were brought back to that sacred place by his touch, and collecting more of his spend on his thumb, he circled your swollen bud until he felt you squeeze his fingers like a vice and your mewling grew into a call that couldn't be quieted.

Clutching his shoulder almost painfully, you held onto him to support yourself, now able to rock your hips in the way you needed in order to capture the pleasure you sought. He watched you in awe as you used him to come undone, and feeling your arousal soak his hand even more, Fili refused to relent, instead working you in harsher movements until you wailed his name and convulsed before him.

Slowly, he settled his pace, allowing you to grind on him until every ounce of your pleasure was ridden out, his other hand reaching up to hold your head and pull you into his kiss that was desperate and fuelled with hunger and differentiating from the languid strokes of his fingers.

Ceasing massaging you, he waited for you to slow the purl of your hips, and once you did, his smile threatened to break the seal of your lips as you returned his kiss with intense eagerness, your hands grasping at him feverishly as you returned to reality.

"You are incredible," he murmured, leaning his sweat coated forehead against yours, sharing the same laboured breaths and furious heartbeats.

A bird flew overhead from out of a nearby bush, the sudden appearance making you jump and Fili reach for one of his blades that had been deposited on the boulder beside you, sobering both of you from your dream-like state.

With another kiss to your raw lips, Fili bent for his tunic and jacket, pulling his waterskin out to wet the material to use as a cloth to clean you.

Carefully, and with a gentleness he lacked moments earlier, he wiped away the sticky mess he had made on your skin, and still not sated of tasting you, returned his lips to yours until his duty was forgotten and he leaned you back against the surface of the stone and climbed over you.

"I want more of you," he whispered. "All of you."

His hand smoothed back your hair, his fingers catching in it slightly to force your head back, exposing your neck vulnerably to him where his pupils dilated at the sight of seeing your pulse thrum aggressively.

Another bird flew and landed on a branch above you, its presence unnoticed, your senses honed in once again on each other rather than your surroundings.

The cracking of a stick sounded nearby, prompting Fili to pause, lifting his head from the solace of your neck to listen, his eyes scanning the area the noise originated from. When he didn't hear or see anything more, he flashed you a smile, seeing hesitation and worry replace your lust-drunk look, and slowly returned to his worship of your heated skin, his ears listening intently.

Something drew closer, and subtly, Fili's hand slipped from your body and took hold of his sword's hilt, waiting for his moment to defend.

Crunching footsteps seemed to echo in the quiet, and Fili did his best to slow his breathing and keep his blood from rushing into his ears, the vibration of his pulse almost deafening him to what he needed to focus on.

Carefully, he rose onto his knees, bracing his weight onto his other arm that didn't grip his weapon, his stance protective as he continued to cover you with himself.

His brow was furrowed seriously, his eyes squinting as he finally caught a glimpse of what creature was sneaking up on you; the swayed, tawny-coloured back of a familiar beast coming into view behind a dense thicket of brush.

Releasing his serious expression, he softened his features, his eyes turning rounder as he peered down at you, and pressing his index finger to his lips, he nodded behind you, prompting you to turn your head back and to the side to see what had encroached on your privacy.

You could hardly believe your eyes, seeing your lost ponies grazing happily just beyond where you lay, gripping your fingers on Fili's arm to display your excitement without spooking them off.

As cautiously as possible, you both stood from the large flat of stone, Fili gingerly shifting his weight from his bad leg onto the good one, forcing you to watch him closely as you redressed and began to tether each pony to lead them back to the rest of the company.

His mood seemed to outshine any discomfort he still felt, the relief in finding your mounts alleviating any dread at the thought of having to continue on foot, leaving you feeling the radiating effects of his aura.

Courteously, Fili assisted you onto your pony's back by giving you a leg up, his hand lingering on your thigh longer than was necessary, his eyes alight with a renewed want that left your skin burning not only to his touch but under his gaze as well.

“I must admit,” he began, looking at you with a cheekiness you hadn't seen in days. “I didn't come out here to look for the ponies. I wasn't ever expecting to find them, but I'm glad we did.”

He patted your mount's neck, smiling at it warmly as he smoothed his fingers across its velvety muzzle.

“Then what was the purpose of coming here?” you quipped, pretending as if you didn't know the reason.

He grinned at you, his dimples flashing and the glimmer in his blue eyes making you forgive any deceit in his intentions.

“I can show you again if you'd like.”

He chuckled, the sound going straight to your core that ached for him again already, and when he winked you were tempted to abandon all reason and responsibility in exchange for the reckless lust he brought forth so quickly in you.

“I think we've already pressed our luck," you got out, the words feeling strangled in your throat as you wished they weren't true, wanting nothing more than to abandon all care and fear of another ambush.

Fili nodded, agreeing with you sullenly as he walked around to his pony who stood grazing beside yours, stepping his foot into the stirrup to swing his leg over its back, the action causing strain on his injury and making him wince and curse under his breath.

He directed his steed to walk beside yours, and leaning across until he was nearly out of his saddle, he captured your lips in a quick kiss.

"I'll be alright," he assured, not missing your worry over him.

Smiling, you urged your pony forward to keep up with him, and after a moment asked a question that had been pressing on your mind.

“Are you going to apologize to Thorin?”

Pursing his lips, Fili sighed deeply, mulling his answer over in his head until he eventually gave you a sideways glance and replied with a slight smugness in his tone.

“Finding the ponies is enough of an apology for both of us.”

He focused on the path ahead, his statement holding some finality to it, letting you know you shouldn't pry any more or share your opinion on the matter.

“I'm sure he'll be pleased," you said, knowing how much Fili wanted to make Thorin proud despite their disagreements.

“And Fili?” you added, the more positive ring in your voice making him look over at you with an eyebrow raised. “The ponies found us.”

Your lips stretched into a wide smile, growing into even more of a grin that allowed your laugh to pass through when Fili joined in; his amusement at your earlier mischievous behaviour voiced in his alluring chuckle.

---

Taglist: 

Everything:

@guardianofrivendell

@midearthwritings

@cassiabaggins

@lilith15000

@trishthedishofreis

@linasofia

@unbeatablecurlgirl

@the-poldarkian

@lathalea

@enchantzz

@blairsanne

@legolaslovely

@middleearthpixie

@i-did-not-mean-to

@sketch-and-write-lover

@jotink78

@medusas-hairband

@feeweeeee

@missihart23

@fortheloveofdurin

@i-am-still-bb

@roobear68

@ichoosechoasandbeingqueer

@legolasbadass

@spngingerbread21

Fili:

@shethereadinghobbit

@ragsweas

@faeriefics

[mrkida-art]

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.  

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

 I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

 “y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

 His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

[silvermoon-scrolls]

Guardians of the Galaxy AU

Staring Kili as Star-Lord, and Fili as Gamora

For @deanobingo, and @gatheringfiki's AUpocalypse - Comedy week

Feel free to share how you would cast the other characters ^^