#Thorin fanfiction

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[ambitiouspotions]

COURTING | THORIN OAKENSHIELD | HEADCANONS

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

thorin would be very standoffish of you at first and very annoyed that he found any attraction towards you in the first place

he wouldn’t want to be outwardly rude to you only direct and firm when speaking

he would keep his distance and keep his words to a minimum, but he would be intent on listening when you speak

when he finally convinced himself that he could speak to you without intentionally being rude he offered to take your night watches for you and offer an extra cloak so you could sleep more comfortably

he would “accidentally” kick his nephews while walking to keep them quiet due to their quips about you

it is hard to change his mind once he is set on a decision, so the moment he let his mind agree with his heart he was eager to express his feelings to you with gestures like grooming your pony, toting your heavier items, and sharpening your blades

he is quick to draw his sword in battle for you; and throws his arm in front of you so he can take any initial hit

any cut, scrape, or bruise you would acquire would cause him to curse himself for letting it occur in the first place

the moment he said “i love you” would be the moment there wouldn’t be a day without it going unsaid

with his stubbornness, any arguments that occurred would end with him settling himself and then coming back and holding your hand to his lips while apologizing

he takes you into his private chambers to sing softly to you while playing his golden harp

due to having long hair of his own, he can style yours with braids

thinks back to his dragon-sickness and frequently apologizes for his behavior; he never wanted to be cruel or rude to you so knowing he did causes him grief

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

pictures found on pinterest, edits made by AMBITIOUSPOTIONS are mushed together on canva

[harrypoppinss]

How the Dwarfs show PDA

Thorins company x gn!reader

Warnings: an insane amount of fluff, implied smut

Thorin

Being the King of Erebor meant that he had a lot of responsibility on his plate. Even before the Dwarfs defeated Smaug and reclaimed Erebor, he wasn’t overly affectionate publicly; that didn’t change once he re-built his kingdom. Kissing is a no go, but instead he would just always have you hold onto his arm as you walked, or vise versa. But when you’re alone in your shared chambers, its like he can’t get enough of you. Thats when he always makes up for the lack of attention and affection that he can’t openly show like he wants to, but if he sees someone flirting with you then thats thrown out of the window; literally. He will pull you up onto his throne and make-out with you infront of everyone if he wants to… and he has… many times. But most of the time; not very into PDA.

Fíli

Like his Uncle, he has a lot of responsibilities since he’s the heir to the throne. But he doesn’t let that stop him. Once he’s done with his daily duties as the prince of Erebor, he gives you his undivided attention and affection. He always makes sure you’re able to stretch your legs, so he usually like to take late night walks through the mines as you two attempt to not be seen by the guards. One time though you did get caught doing… something. But that’s a story for another day and time. Sometimes he will literally just slip away from the meetings to go and be with you but only if Kíli is there to cover for him. He doesn’t have a problem with showing you how much he adores and loves you, even if that means getting his head chewed off by Thorin for skipping his royal duties.

Kíli

This man is literally the definition of PDA. He doesn’t have as many duties as his brother so he gets to spend his free time with you. He doesn’t care who watches you two as you walk through the halls of Erebor with his arm tucked tight around your shoulders; paired with a proud grin on his face that reads “yeah thats right they’re mine”. He doesn’t care if his Uncle scolds him for it, you’re his one. He tends to pepper kisses all over your face at random times, which inturn makes you incredibly flustered, sometimes his own brother has to pry him off of you. He’s just a lovey-dovey type of boyfriend and he is not afraid to show it to the whole Kingdom of Erebor.

Dwalin

Not a fan of PDA at all. However, if he sense that you’re having an off day, or if he sees someone openly flirting with you…. well then it’s like he’s a whole new person. He’ll pull you into his chest as he rubs circles on your back, giving the person that was attempting to flirt with you a death glare and grinning when he watches them basically shit their pants and scramble away. If its the scenario where you’re having an off day he will find someone to cover for him most of the time with a threat before taking you back to your shared house as he gives you his undivided attention and affection. All in all; this man can quickly become the worlds biggest simp for you.

Bofur

Like Kíli, he’s the definition of PDA. As soon as he gets home from work he’s all over you; literally. He will physically jump on top of you if you’re ignoring him, especially after a long day in the mines. Which usually leads to you forcing him to get up off of you so you can fix him a bath. Even when you’re doing that, his hands are wrapped around your waist as his chin rests on top of your head. In public it doesn’t change, his fingers are laced with yours and he’s constantly finding an excuse to kiss you. You have something on your lips? Kiss. You turn to look at him? Kiss. He wants your attention? Multiple kisses. He just adores showing you how much he loves and cherishes you, even during the journey to reclaim Erebor.

————————————————————

A/N:

Where to request a prompt for a character from LOTR/The Hobbit, Supernatural, The walking dead, FNAF? Here!

The masterlist? Here!

The prompt list? Here!

[fckmini]

cats in love that remind me of thorin and bilbo!!

ft. this extra one because hes silly!!

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

Best of Intentions - scene snippet. Character relationships and development -

*******

It wasn’t the first time Mistlynn cursed herself for her quick tongue and short temper. She had risen to his bait the night prior.

 The dreams were getting more vivid, more heated with each passing night much to her dismay. She was no longer merely distracted. She had been completely derailed in every sense of the word.

 By. Him.

 And his stupidly handsome face.

 And that insufferable smirk that he seemed to share only in her direction. Damn him.

 The butterflies that erupted in her stomach the moment he walked into that dining room had caught her off-guard, and when his beautiful, keen eyes landed on her, all her good sense had seemed to leave her as well.

 She had no desire to learn how to ride a horse. She was content with Luna. And if she couldn’t ride Luna she was plenty fit to walk. Dale wasn’t that far from the front gates of Erebor.

She was perfectly capable of walking that short distance, thank you very much.

 But she couldn’t let him win, could she? No. She could not abide by it. If she could ride a Dire wolf, of all the creatures on Aule’s green earth, she could ride a gods forsaken horse.

 She walked with her chin held high as they made their way to the stables. Thorin strode next to her, perfectly at ease in his riding leathers. Not an ounce of gold adorned him. It shouldn't drive her to distraction that he didn’t seem to care about dressing like a wealthy king. Not once trace of gold was on him, again. Just a few silver rings that matched the beads that held his braids in place.

Not once, since she had arrived in Erebor did she see him dress in the ostentatious finery she was told they would drip their bodies with from head to toe. That fact shouldn't bother her. But it did. And those infernal butterflies were present once again, making her wish she hadn’t grabbed a pastry from Rosalyn before this little venture. So many life choices she was regretting at this moment.

 “Now, remind me again of what your wager was?” Thorin’s voice startled her back from her inner musings.

 She masked her nervousness with a strategically placed glower. “That I can ride any horse of my choosing within an hour’s time.”

 The slight smirk that was lingering on his face as they walked grew at her peppery tone. He eyes twinkled brightly as he looked down at her, obviously enjoying their little exchange this early in the morning.

 “Ah yes. I am quite eager to see if you will bully the poor horse as you did my unfortunate soldiers.”

 “Unfortunate indeed. I am sure the horses sense of esteem will remain more intact than the pride of your dwarrows.” She chirped.

 The sound of his deep chuckle made those meddlesome butterflies scatter. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath in. 

 “Perhaps we will find you something more suitable to ride when you find your pride planted in the dirt.” His tone was playful as he leaned in a little closer, so that he was looking down at her over his shoulder.

 “Aye, and when the horse bests ye I am sure a way more suitable ride can be found, of that I am certain.” A rugged drawl came up from behind them.

Mistlynn was already flustered by Thorin’s teasing and knowing that the imposing Captain overheard their jests made her fight to conceal the blush blooming across her chest heat rapidly and flush up to her cheeks.

 She knew they could see it, and she loathed them for it. The infernal butterflies reveled in it.

 Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin’s teasing before giving his friend a pointed look. Mistlynn let out an indignant huff and continued to walk on, her back ramrod straight, chin held with a renewed determination.

 “Did I do something to you in another life? I was having a perfectly fine conversation before you butted your ugly mug in.” Thorin grumbled under his breath as they watched Mistlynn’s petite form storm off towards the horse paddocks.

 “You’ve done aplenty to me in this life. This is the first and only time I have had the pleasure of goading your One. I have waited so long.” Dwalin smirked mischievously.

 “In that case, maybe I should go visit that bonnie little dam whose bakery you started to frequent so much? I’ve had a real sweet tooth lately, as have you I’ve noticed.” Thorin grinned wickedly as he watched Dwalin’s left eye twitch subtly at the jab.

 “Do you not have anything else better to do with your time, like being a King and ruling your kingdom perchance?” They began to walk again, following after Mistlynn.

 “Of course I do, that’s why I have Nori as my spymaster. He comes in really handy. It’s almost like I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

 “Yer a menace.” Dwalin growled good naturedly. “Who put you in charge?”

 Thorin sighed as he watched Mistlynn look around in poorly concealed horror when she realized how many had gathered around the paddocks. It was apparent their exchange the night prior did not go unnoticed or unheard, and everyone was eager to see how the wager played out.

 “I ask myself that every day. Things were so much easier when I was just a blacksmith.”

 “Ye were never meant to be just a blacksmith. Ye were meant to be here, to save her, and rule your kingdom together.”

 “She doesn’t seem eager to do anything together, with me especially.” Thorin grumbled. “The only thing I seem to draw from her is irritation.”

 Dwalin laughed, “Do not fret, there is far more than that below all of that spitfire.”

 As they approached, Mistlynn whirled on them, her eyes flashing with anger. “You seriously invited everyone to watch? This was a wager between you and me!”

 “Maybe you shouldn't be making such a show at dinner time.” An excited Bofur called from his perch up on the fencing. “Especially after that little show you gave us yesterday.”

 “I have never been more entertained.” Fili grinned winningly at her as he winked.

 “Or wealthier.” Kili chimed in as he nodded towards where Ori was scribbling down everyone’s wagers. “It drew him forth from the depths and into the light of profitable gains.”

 “Are you not all wealthy already?” Mistlynn folded her arms across her chest as she gave each one a pointed look.

 “Oh, to be sure.” Nori chuckled. “But where is the fun in just sitting on it. Besides, I have some gold I have to win back.”

 Mistlynn blinked before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you do.”

 “Now now lass. Dont keep us in suspense.” Gloin chortled as Thorin and Dwalin walked up and joined everyone leaning against the fence. “Pick one.”

 Mistlynn sniffed, her nose twitching as she looked ahead of them and into the grazing horses. They didn’t seem threatening or wild. Whispers of excitement and knowing chuckles trickled on the wind around her as she studied each horse. She didn’t want anything too easy. They all seemed so docile and tame.

How could she garner their respect by riding a meek creature that lived for nothing but to graze and soak in the sunlight.

 A loud neigh carried over to her on the morning breeze, and a flash of white caught her eye from the paddock across from them. In that paddock, a lone horse of the purest white galloped and tossed its head in what seemed to be some sort of revelry. 

A smile teased her lips as she watched the magnificent creature. Her blood began to hum in excitement.

 Perfect.

 She snapped her fingers and pointed, confidence exuding from her at her choice. “That one.”

 The smile that had been on Thorin’s face disappeared as her choice registered. All conversation ceased as everyone looked over to the white horse. Stunned.

 “Of course she would pick that she devil.” Dwalin muttered aloud.

 “She’s perfect.” Mistlynn grinned from ear to ear.

 “Absolutely not.” Thorin growled. “Pick from this paddock.”

 “You mock me, my Lord.’ Mistlynn looked at him testily. “All these horses seem to be interested in anything else but riding.’

 “Oh, he isnt mocking.” Fili laughed nervously. “They are tame. That one…is a bit more fiesty.”

 Mistlynn watched as a grey mare meandered up to the water trough and drank deeply, without a care in the world.

 “That one will do nicely.” Thorin nodded towards the grey mare.

Mistlynn ground her teeth together. “That one looks near death.” She glowered.

 Dwalin scoffed as Thorin returned her glower with a challenging look. “You will be on deaths door if you ride that white beast.”

 “Then why own such an animal if you cannot ride it?” She challenged.

“The only one who hasn’t been thrown by her is Thorin.” Kili grimaced.

 “Perfect. If he can ride her, then so shall I.”

 Fili elbowed Kili while Thorin sent his nephew a silencing glare. “What? Im trying to discourage her not encourage her. Everyone knows Thorin is the better rider here.”

 “Not. Helping.’ Fili groaned as they all watched Mistlynn set her shoulders back in determination.

 “Lad, you have only courted an elf maiden and it shows.” Gloin shook his head. “She’s a dam for Mahal’s sake.”

 “SHE is standing right here, and SHE is going to go ride that horse. And you, my liege, are going to step aside and let me.” Mistlynn gave each wide eyed dwarrow a pointed look before she sidestepped Thorin and began to walk towards the other paddock.

 “You're going to break your bleeding neck, you obstinate creature.” Thorin growled as he stormed after her.

 “Watch me.” Mistlynn singsonged. The white mare had stopped running the length of her paddock and was now watching her from the middle. “She’s stunning.” She smiled as she looked at her through the space of the fencing.

 She moved to put her foot through the lower section of the fence, but a hand hit the railing by her head. “I forbid it. You will choose another horse.” The low rumble of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck rise as a smirk turned the corner of her mouth upwards.

 A soft, curious nicker made them both look into the paddock. The white mare had come closer, curiosity evident in her large brown eyes. Mistlynn’s smirk widened into an outright grin. “Oh, imagine that? She likes me.” She quickly ducked under the fence and stood slowly on the other side, so that she was looking at the creature head on.

 Thorin grit his teeth as he watched Mistlynn approach the mare, and slowly bring her hand to the horses head. She pet her softly, and the mare appeared to accept it.

 “If she is able to ride that mare, I will eat my own boot.” Dwalin grumbled as he approached with everyone else, all eyes transfixed on Mistlynn and the white mare.

 “I’ll take that bet.” Kili snickered.

 “This is not funny. This is serious.” Thorin growled, not once taking his eyes off of Mistlynn as she continued to pet the mare and speak to her softly.

 “She didn’t even let you do that when you first approached her.” Fili pointed out.

 Bofur chuckled softly. “Are you talking about the mare or our warrior princess lad?”

 “Quiet all of you.” Thorin hissed. “Just because she is letting her pet her doesn’t mean anything.”

 “If she is able to ride that bloody horse I will never let you live it down.” Dwalin began to snicker as he watched Mistlynn grab ahold of the reins.

 “Oi Mist! Are you sure of which end your supposed to get on?” Kili waggled his eyebrows as he grinned.

Mistlynn flipped him a rude gesture as she gave him a sarcastic smirk. Raucous laughter erupted from the group of friends before they quieted down into low snickers to not spook the horse.

 She jumped onto the back of the mare, her hands tight on the white mane as the powerful animal bolted. Mistlynn’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched as she focused on hanging on to the beast beneath her. She managed to hold on for a few moments before she was bucked off, somersaulting over the front of the mare and onto the flat of her back as the horse whinnied and galloped off to the other side of the ring. Mistlynn sucked in a sharp breath as she fought to refill her lungs.

 Thorin vaulted himself over the railing at lightning speed before anyone else could react and rushed to her side, his eyes stormy and wide with panic as he skidded to his knees and knelt beside her.

 “M’eudail! Are you ok?” His eyes scanned her dust covered body in concern as she groaned and shifted before pushing herself up.

She coughed and let out a little squeak of a groan. “I’m perfectly fine. Just dazed.” She managed to wheeze. She looked up at him as she gasped in air greedily and was taken aback by the worried expression on his face.

“Sar em gabura[AA1] .” He growled as the worry in his eyes morphed into anger. “You’ve proven nothing but how foolish you are. You are done.”

 Her affronted laugh rattled as she coughed. “Done, am I? Who are you to tell me I am done?” She pushed herself up to her feet, gritting her teeth as her sore muscles protested the movement. “You're not my keeper, MY Lord. So kindly step aside and let me finish this.”

 Thorin’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding painfully as he watched her go back over to the mare, holding her hands up again to calm the wary creature.

She clapped her hands and motioned for the mare to bolt again. She had to gain the mare’s trust; she knew this. Not forcefully seize it from the creature. She had Luna’s trust since she had raised her from a young pup. This creature owed her nothing. She had often watched Argo’s with their livestock, and when it came to their reindeer, she figured the same principle could be applied. Horses were more agile and fast, but their eyes held the same intelligence.

 

Thorin walked back to the paddock fence and leaned his back against it, his arms crossed across his chest in agitation. He watched her chase the mare in the opposite direction again. She shouted and clapped her hands loudly and herded the horse skillfully, much to his surprise.

 “She handled that tumble well.” Gloin muttered to no one in particular as they watched her work with the mare tirelessly.

 “She’s a little spitfire, I’ll give her that.” Nori chuckled. “You saw how she handled the soldiers yesterday. “

 “Mighty mouse.” Kili chuckled. “I think that’s the perfect description.

 “Don’t let her catch you calling her that, she will steal the dagger from your belt and take your tongue with it.” Fili scoffed.

 Dwalin rested his forearms on the fence next to Thorin and let out a humored grunt. “Ye have your work set out for ye.”

 Thorin’s scowl deepened, his gaze not leaving Mistlynn once as she continued to move about the paddock and work with the fiery mare. He didn’t feel the need to respond to Dwalin’s comment, he knew there was no use in convincing his closest friend otherwise.

 

The minutes passed quickly as Mistlynn worked. She was nearing the hour mark and felt herself losing patience with the beautiful snow-white mare. She wanted to be able to ride her, but she seemed to be just as stubborn and unwilling to be tamed, much like herself. She couldn’t begrudge the magnificent animal that.

 Argo’s had made this all look so easy. Animals had been drawn to him, as if he could speak to them with his eyes and body language alone. She felt her heart twinge at the thought of her little brother. He would have been riding the mare at this point, he wouldn’t have ruined his chances by jumping on her back. He would have made sure to win her trust first.

 She had been too focused on winning the wager with the infuriating Dwarrow who seemed to do nothing but rile her up with a mere smirk and skillfully directed jab. He was now truly under her skin.

 She stopped in the center of the paddock and watched the mare continue to gallop circles around her. She let her shoulders sag, a small sign of defeat as she turned to face her audience that had grown quiet as the minutes bled into an hour. She let out an exasperated breath as she placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Thorin. He was still in the paddock with her, leaning against the wooden slats with his broad shoulders, arms and legs crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world at that moment as he watched her fail.

 That was a difficult realization for her to swallow, the desire to impress him had surged upwards into her throat, nearly choking her while stealing the air from her lungs. She had never experienced this sudden need to impress a male that was not kin to her, and that made her skin tingle as if she were blushing.  Her throat bobbed as she attempted to gain her voice back.

“You’ve won your wager, my Lord.” Her voice was clipped as she forced herself to look up at him to meet his piercing gaze.

 Thorin’s eyebrows raised slowly, a corner of his mouth twisting up in a half smirk. Dwalin scoffed and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath while everyone else seemed to share looks of intrigue and respect.

 Thorin cocked his head to the side as he chuckled. “I think it would be fair we called it a draw.”

 She blinked in confusion at his response, but before she could question him about it she heard the sound of hoofs approaching her from behind. She felt a soft huff of breath on her shoulder before a soft knicker tickled her ear. She held her breath in surprise as the mare came up behind her, gently nudging her shoulder with its head before draping its neck over her shoulder.

 Mistlynn slowly turned her head to look at the mare in awe. She raised a hand up slowly and placed it upon the forehead to trace the soft fur underneath the long mane that hung over the soft earth brown eyes that peered at her. For the first time since Luna, she felt a connection. And she began to understand the draw to ride such a powerful creature that was meant to run. She wasn’t a predator built to pursue its prey, but an animal that was made to chase the wind.

 [AA1]Dammit it! (May it melt) -

******

Taglist-

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin

[wild-lavender-rose]

🌺Person A is exhausted and littered in bruises and painful little injuries (idk battle or orc attack?). In concern, Person B insists on taking care of and bandaging up the little wounds which Person A dismisses. Not wanting to push Person A, Person B begins placing small kisses on each wound. The tender love of this action makes Person A’s eyes start to water as they fight back tears.

I don't have a ship is it ok to do it character x reader, Person A being Thorin Oakenshield and Person B being reader?

I haven't written for Thorin in such a long time! It feels good getting back into writing for my favorite dwarf king <3 I hope you enjoy!

You sank down beside where Thorin sat looking steadily into the fire, resting your head on his shoulder. “Bofur says you’re injured.” 

     “Bofur knows not what he says.” 

     “He told me you said something like that.” You sighed. “And that you also insulted his mother.” 

     Thorin gave an amused grumble. “Did he?” 

     You rolled your eyes before shifting your head to look at his exposed arm. It was littered with scratches and bruises. Nothing serious, but nothing that should be left untended. You straighten and reach into the pouch at your side, withdrawing a roll of bandage and a small vial of ointment. “Beloved,” 

     Thorin watches as you take his hand, not resisting as you gently kiss his bloodied knuckles before beginning to tend them. He stays silent the whole time, watching as you kiss each wound before cleaning and covering it. When you move to sit in front of him in order to tend his other arm, you’re startled to find tears glistening in his eyes. “Thorin,” you touch his face, surprised when he leans into your touch. 

     “I don’t deserve you.” his bandaged hand captures your smooth one, pressing a kiss into your palm. “My beautiful wife.” 

Fanfic Masterlist

[ravnarieldurin]

Hot Chocolate

Genre: Fluff...fluff...all the fluff!!!

A few mouth-wateringly sweet one shots between you (fem!wifereader) and each of the sons of Durin. Head on over to AO3 to read (available for everyone).

Merry Christmas (only one day late, haha!) and Happy Holidays everyone!

(Did I write these instead of working on my long fic? Yes. Yes I did. I regret nothing. 😁)

[vechkinfan]

Thank you all for the likes for the first chapter! Hope you continue to enjoy this rewrite! and if you want to be added to the tag list let me know.

Pairing: Fili x OC and Thorin x OC

Summary: Calin finds herself in middle-earth. with Balin at her side they travel to the shire to where the quest to Erebor beings.

Rating: M for later chapters

Word count: ~5.4K

Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Edge Of Night: Chapter 2

~One Month Later~

Calin laid with her back pressed to the cool August grass as she stared wistfully up at the stars. Her hands positioned behind her head as a makeshift pillow.

Darkness had descended quickly on the small clearing that she found herself in quite often. The shadows of the trees disappeared, leaving nothing but a blackness that engulfed her. She knew earlier that she should have left before it became too dark, but being stubborn she had pushed away that thought and stayed. Whether it was the peace she felt out in the woods or just the fact that she didn't particularly want to go back to reality was what had kept Calin out here longer than intended.

Sighing heavily, she sat up, gently running a hand through her tangled mess of brown hair. Her eyes panned around the clearing as her ears picked up on some leaves rustling and twigs snapping in the distance. Normally it would be no concern to her, but given the lateness and how dark it had become she was slightly on edge. A layer of gooseflesh awakening across the skin of her arms as the rustling grew closer. An unnerving feeling settling over the clearing.

Standing to her feet quickly, Calin roughly brushed off the loose grass that had stuck itself to the material of her cargo pants. Without taking her eyes away from the area the rustling was coming from she gripped the straps of the backpack that had been laying beside her and lifted it up, sliding it onto her back as quietly as she could muster. 

"Hello?" Calin called out, just in case it was a person. But when she heard no response she shrugged it off as her imagination, or an animal that was wandering across the wooded area. It was night after all and many critters of the nocturnal variety live in this area. 

Just as she slowly began walking backwards towards the direction she had come from earlier in the day, she heard another much louder rustle from across the way. This time it caused Calin to stop dead in her tracks. Her eyes narrowing towards the opposite side of the clearing where the noise came from.

She knew it was probably nothing, but for some unknown reason she couldn't ignore the sound. Like a siren call, or a moth to the neon light of a bug zapper, it had her mesmerized and unable to look away. So, doing what any sain, normal person would do, she slowly and carefully stalked in the direction of the noise. Bending down hoping to keep concealed she continued to walk silently across the clearing and into the otherside of the woods.

Calin’s hands came out and gently pushed away branches that hung close to her face, making sure to make all of her movements calculated. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention towards her presence by stepping on a pile of dried leaves or a dead branch. But with it being so dark she could barely see anything in front of her.

As Calin continued to steadily walk, her free hand fumbled with her side pocket trying to pull her phone out wanting to turn on its flashlight, hoping to shed some light as the rustling sound grew even louder. It was unlike anything she ever heard. Calin grew up wandering these woods and she knew when an animal was around, they gave off a very distinct noise when prowling. This... It almost sounded like footsteps, but heavier as if someone was stomping around angrily.

Swallowing back the growing lump in her throat she pushed forward into the darkness. Thoughts of her phone long gone, figuring a light would only draw unwanted attention. Well, that was until the tip of her boot caught the edge of a tree root that was just barely sticking out from the wet ground. Calin let out a small yelp as she fell, body landing harshly on the dirt floor but to make matters worse she must have landed on an incline cause she felt herself sliding rather quickly through the leaves on the ground. Sticking her hands out to try and slow herself down anyway she could but Calin was traveling too fast to actually get a decent grip on anything without it ripping from her grasp painfully. So as she tumbled down the hill all she could do was pray that she didn't smash head first into a tree. That would be embarrassing... Local girl dies, impaled by tree after hiking accident. She could just picture the headlines now...

Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for impact and a few moments later she felt herself leave the ground and then plummet promptly back to earth. Her hands came out to brace for the fall, but as she landed Calin’s head smashed against a rather large rough object causing a slew of profanity to escape her lips and her vision to blur in and out of focus.

"Fucking hell." She groaned out loud, as her  eyes slowly fluttered open. Taking note of the nice size rock underneath her forehead.

"What colorful language, are you alright lass?" Squinting her eyes trying to regain some clarity back to her vision, she heard a gentle voice from behind.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Calin muttered quietly as she slowly started to get up. However she promptly dropped back down to her knees, her surroundings still spinning from the impact. "I don't even remember a hill being there." Sighing, Calin squeezed her eyes shut trying to composure herself before turning to stare up in the direction she came hurtling down from. It was a massive hill covered with rather large oak trees and a few other types of trees that she didn't entirely recognize.

"Well, that certainly was a nasty fall." This time she finally took note of the voice. It was obviously a man and given his accent he might have been British maybe Scottish even. "But I do believe this hill has been here for quite some time, lass." From her place on the ground she tilted her head up towards the voice and what Calin’s eyes saw she truly wasn't expecting.

The man, who appeared to be quite short in stature, was hovering over her with his hands out at the ready, available to catch her if she tried to stand once again. His bushy eyebrows were pulled up in concern as she stared wordlessly at him in wonder. His face was rather round from what she could gather in the evening light, but a huge expanse of white hair covered most of it, in what she thought was the most remarkable beard she had ever seen.

"Balin, at your service." He said cheerfully as he reached out a hand towards her.

Without hesitation Calin gently placed her hand in his and watched as his large fingers nearly engulfed her own. Which was quite a feat, because she had unusually large hands for a girl. 

"Thank's, the name’s Calin." Giving him a genuine nod of thanks, she let go of his hand and began brushing off the leaves and dirt that had embedded themselves into her clothing. "What did you say your name was again?" Calin asked, her eyes looked down nearly a foot before she met his own.

"Balin." He smiled once again and gave a little bow.

The name had her hands freezing instantly,  hovering over the top of her thighs where she had been cleaning off the dirt. Balin? As in one of the dwarves from The Hobbit...

"Son of Fundin?"  Calin slowly asked, praying to some higher power that it was a mere coincidence. Or that perhaps she had still misheard him.

"Yes of course, how do you know of him?" This time it was the man who seemed a little perplexed. For his eyebrow quirked upwards in confusion, clearly unsure of how she knew of such an intimate detail.

That's it! She must have knocked herself out during that fall. Calin must have slammed her head against that rock hard enough to black out right there, cause there was no other explanation for this other than someone being out here in the woods larping. But who the hell does that in the dead of night. Especially in such an elaborate costume.

"I think I need to sit back down." She mumbled, a wave of nausea hitting her like a ton of bricks. Calin's mind spinning not only from my accident but what was happening in front of her, at the very moment. Surely this wasn't happening, and if it was she couldn't just tell him how she knew who his father was.

Leaning over, Calin braced her hands against her knees in an attempt to calm herself. Her eyes shut tightly hoping that when she reopened them she'd see the leaf covered ground where she had fallen. Or maybe she had fallen asleep and it was all just a stupid dream. But when she slowly opened them her surroundings hadn't changed, in fact Calin was still standing in front of Balin. His face holding even more concern than she remembered. 

"Were you attacked, lass? Was someone chasing you?" Balin asked softly as he placed his canvas pack on the ground. His hands unclasping the buckle on the front and making quick work to pull out a long piece of fabric.

"I thought I heard something..." Calin stated, her eyes desperately turning back up towards the hill. "I have to go back though, I have to go back home." Shaking her head in denial, she stumbled her way back up the incline a few feet. Her boots slipped on the damp grass, making it almost impossible to get any traction.

"Lass, surely you know there is not but trees and mountains in that direction. No one lives past those woods for orcs have overrun it." His voice came out as a plea to get her to listen to reason. "Please, do not venture back. I could not forgive myself if I let you walk to your death."

Blowing out her held breath, she gave the top of the hill one last longing glance. What was she doing? Even if she walked up the hill, she wasn't going to be able to find the way home. She was still most likely unconscious and this was some weird dream world that she had fallen into. At least if she stayed, she'd be with Balin and not alone wandering the woods for the rest of eternity, or until she woke up completely.

"Ok." Her voice was weak as she spun around and slowly came back down towards the man.

In his hands he held up a long dark cloak which was what he must have gotten from his pack.

"Here lass, let's cover you up. The night air is a bit brisk." He smiled and she took the cloak from his hands, wrapping it around her shoulders, realizing she was just in a thin black tank top.

"Thanks again." Calin said quietly and again Balin gave a nod as he picked his pack back up.

"It is of no trouble." He shook off her thanks as if it was something that happened regularly. "Let's get moving, we can sort out where you need to head off to in the morning. It is far too dangerous to be out here alone." He added as he started walking down the gravel path. Leaving her standing there quietly.

Deciding it was best to follow him, her feet quickly caught up with his strides. Calin’s work boots causing the stone beneath them to crunch softly in the night air.

"Where are we headed?" Her curiosity finally  hit hard as she asked the question.

"The Shire." He turned his head in her direction smiling, his feet still carrying him forward.

The Shire? Well I suppose death could be far worse. Clearly she had woken up in some strange version of The Hobbit, and judging by where he was headed Calin assumed it was right before the quest had even started. Which also meant Gandalf would be around. Surely he'd know how to get her back to her world if this still wasn't some hallucination.

They walked silently for a few hours after that. Balin was very weary to tell her anything more about why he was heading in the direction he was. So he kept his answers minimal, and after a while Calin took the hint and shut her mouth.

The night breeze had picked up, the coolness engulfing her body as they walked through the overgrown paths. She had pulled the hood of the cloak up around her face to shield from the brisk wind that was cutting at the bruised flesh of her cheek. Balin seemed to not be bothered by it for he kept walking, not hesitating even as they heard distant shrieks reverberating off the trees from the woods that surrounded them.

Calin was just thankful that she was accustomed to traipsing around the uneven floor of the forest, and had worn her work boots out that morning, for if she wasn't prepared she was sure her feet would be blistered and bloodied at the moment. And there was nothing worse than walking around on sore feet.

"We are here." Balin said quietly, bringing her out of her thoughts. Calin's eyes flickering up from the ground to see what Balin was talking about.

Small picket fences outlined the well worn walkways. Houses were scattered here and there across the landscape, the windows lit by flickering flames from candles sitting on the ledge inside. Large sunflowers stood tall against some of the fences, as they passed them by. If it wasn't pitch black out she was  sure the Shire would have truly been a sight to behold.

"One of the lads should have something that may fit you when they arrive, lass." Pulling herself from the slight daze over where she was currently standing, she took notice of Balin addressing her.

She didn't have time to ask him what he was talking about, for they had rounded a corner that led them up a small hill, and at the top of the hill was a big green round door. Attached to the wooden fence outside of the hobbit hole was a single pony that appeared to be rather invested in eating the few patches of grass in the path.

As they reached the front fence, Calin’s hand gently reached out and pushed it open for Balin. Her fingers lingering on the smooth grain of the wood as if it would disappear under her touch if she let go. Balin however, just kept his speed until he reached the round green door. His finger coming up and giving the bell a lite tap as Calin closed the gate and made her way behind him.

Her feet gently shuffled against the smooth ground, kicking up some dust as she nervously waited for Bilbo to open the door. And if right on queue, the hinges creaked quietly and light flooded out from the tiny hole in the ground. A rather short man, with messy auburn hair stood holding the handle of the door. His patchwork bathrobe tied tight about his waist as he stared between Balin and herself curiously.

"Balin, at your service." Balin smiled, addressing the hobbit in a similar fashion he had addressed her earlier that night.

"Good evening." The hobbit said, his eyes narrowing slightly. Clearly confused as to why they were here.

"Yes, yes it is, though I think it might rain later. Am I late?" Balin asked, as he tilted his head up towards the sky. Doing the same, Calin finally took note of the dark grey clouds that had rolled in behind them. Leaving the night sky even darker than normal.

"Late for what?" Again the hobbit asked, looking even more puzzled than before. But before he even could process what was happening, Balin stepped into the house. From where Calin was standing outside, she could see a rather full smile plastered on his aged face.

"Oh, ha ha! Evening, brother. Heh, heh." He said happily, disappearing into the house leaving Bilbo and her alone.

"Sorry about this." Calin said gently, hoping to bridge some form of a small friendship. She didn't want him thinking they were there to rob the place. But if things played out like the book, his pantry would be robbed of every last morsel of food. "Calin." Bringing her hand out from under the warm confines of the cloak she reached it towards Bilbo. Ignoring her inner self and deciding not to warn Bilbo of what was to come. Surely her knowledge of future events occurring was dangerous and she could potentially end up changing the whole fate of this journey by one slip of the tongue.

The hobbit stared up at her curiously for a few moments before taking her hand in his and giving it a firm shake. "Bilbo." He added with a smile, stepping out of the way allowing her to duck into the house. Surprisingly the doorway was the only place she had to duck down, it seemed like her taller than average height was only about a foot and a half taller than the dwarves and hobbits, leaving her with some head room.

"Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us." Calin heard Balin exclaim as she finally pulled the hood down from around her head, allowing herself to gaze around at the remarkable home. Peter Jackson, you weren't far off at all, she thought to herself as she took in the rich woods of the floor and how even though they were in a house in the ground it gave off a homey feel.

"Who is this?" Calin’s eyes widened as a rough looking dwarf in a fur collared coat, stormed towards her. His gaze shifted back to Balin, as if silently asking him why she was even here.

"I found her out in the woods, brother. I believe orcs had chased her down from the hills. She still seems a bit lost." Balin quickly came to his brother's side, defending her from his scrutinizing gaze. Lost? Wasn't that the greatest understatement of the year. But his story of being chased by orcs was at least plausible compared to some she might have thought of.

"Uh, excuse me; sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." Bilbo who was standing beside her finally spoke up addressing the three of them. But it seemed to go on deaf ears with the dwarves.

"We will tend to her wounds, nothing more. She will need to be gone by morning." Balin's brother glared at her for another moment then turned around and headed off down the hall with Balin following closely by his side. At his words she subconsciously lifted a hand to her face, letting her fingers graze gently across the skin of her forehead and cheek. Feeling the abrasive edges of a long gash, she winced realizing she probably looked worse for wear.

Standing awkwardly in the center of the foyer, her ears picked up on the two dwarves muttering to one another about food and being hungry. Letting her know she would at least be free to tend to herself for a bit uninterrupted. They'd be in the pantry clearing it out until the others arrived.

"It's not that I don't like visitors; I-I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit, but I do like to know them before they come visiting." Bilbo addressed as he leaned over to see the dwarves all but ransacking his pantry. A nervous expression painted clearly across his face.

"Tell me about it." Calin huffed, setting her bag down gently on the floor by the wall. This in turn caught Bilbo's attention once again. His eyes widening taking in her appearance for the first time since she stepped in out of the darkness.

"I-I am terribly sorry." He mumbled and began pacing back and forth, his hands flailing about as he searched for something. "Please, sit down." He motioned to a small rickety looking chair opposite of the door.

As he wandered about looking for whatever it was he was looking for she eyed the chair cautiously. Calin’s hand reached out giving it a small shake testing its strength, still uncertain whether or not she was going to chance sitting in it. When she heard a creak from the old stained wood, she instantly let it go, her eyes shifting back and forth nervously making sure no one heard it.

"Maybe it's best if I don't touch anything." She muttered to herself and promptly took a seat on the floor beside the chair. Out stretching her legs as she let her eyes take in her surroundings.

Out of all the places her mind could have taken her, it was The Hobbit. One of her favorite movies and books of all time. She just couldn't fathom that she was actually sitting in Bilbo's house, the night where the quest to reclaim Erebor started. And if Bilbo thought it was bad now with just two dwarves here she hardly doubted he would be able to handle the mass of dwarves about to arrive. Because if she remembered correctly the two Durin princes were to arrive next. Those two would most likely drive Bilbo clinically insane by the night's end.

"Sorry about that." Bilbo came padding back in holding a white washcloth. "Not used to tending to people."

"Don't worry about it. It probably looks worse than it is." Calin gave a small chuckle as he came to stand in front of her. His hand gently tilted her head up as he started to clean the cut on her forehead first followed by the scratches on her cheek.

Surprisingly he was very soft with his movements, dabbing the wet cloth against the angry red wound trying his best to clean it without causing her pain or irritating her skin further. His nose scrunched up in concentration before they both saw a piece of blue cheese come flying out from the pantry. Which immediately caused Bilbo to pull away and groan unhappily.

"Are they always like this?" He asked while looking at her. But all she gave was a simple shoulder shrug, unsure how to answer him. They were dwarves, they liked food just as much as hobbits. They were just a little bit more messy...

Ignoring the two now coming out of the pantry with full arms, Bilbo leaned towards her again to finish cleaning the cut on her forehead. His hand barely lifted from his side when the bell rang. At this Bilbo sighed loudly and left the cloth in her hands as he stomped his way across the room and opened the door.

"Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your service." Calin heard two voices say enthusiastically from outside. But Bilbo had only opened the door slightly blocking my view of the two dwarves.

"Nope, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house." Calin's lip upturned into a small smirk as she heard Bilbo desperately try to get the two outside to leave. It was a losing battle though, dwarves were hard headed not being keen on giving up. And just as she expected a quite large leather boot caught the edge of the door as Bilbo tried to close it swiftly on the two.

"What? Has it been cancelled?" One of them asked, a deep worry lacing their voice.

"No one told us." The other stated quickly. His voice holding more power compared to his brother.

"Can-? No-nothing's been cancelled." Bilbo sputtered, showing he was very frustrated by the sudden influx of unexpected guests showing up at his front door.

"Well, that's a relief." Just as the voice sounded out, two dwarves pushed their way into the small foyer.

They stood there for a brief moment, looking around the room before they began to unload their belongings onto Bilbo. Who was now standing stalk still with his arms out in front of him as he watched these two plow their way into his home.

"Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened." The blond dwarf said, his impressive golden mane swinging as he dropped a bundle of swords into the hobbits hand. Nearly knocking him over in the process.

"It's nice, this place. D'you do it yourself?" Her attention quickly turned to the smaller brother, who had taken to scrapping the mud that collected on the soles of his boots from his travels on the edge of a fairly expensive looking chest.

As Calin sat watching this event play out all she could really do was scrunch her face in knowing worry. It was one thing to read about dwarves destroying Bilbo's perfectly kept house, but it was a whole other experience sitting on the ground being associated with the dwarves who were doing this. She'd be lucky if she wasn't kicked out after what just happened.

"Brother, look! A woman!" Calin had been nervously ringing the damp cloth that was in her hands when Fili and Kili finally took note of her. Their faces turned up in wide smiles as they ignored Bilbo's rants about ruining his mothers glory box.

"Aye! You must be a friend of master Baggins." The blond smiled proudly. "Fili and Kili, at your service." He bowed his head with his brother in greeting. The braided strands of his mane dangled freely in the air before he stood to his full height once again.

"No no no! She is not a friend! I don't even know her!" Bilbo protested from behind them. His hands were now free from the heavy weapons Fili had dropped into them earlier.

Calin couldn't help but feel a slight pang of hurt at his words though. She wasn't sure why because he was being truthful, they didn't know each other. It was just that she felt like she knew these characters, that she had a connection with them already despite never truly meeting till this moment. So she knew she had to play dumb, at least until Gandalf arrived.

"Calin." She nodded her head the best she could from my spot on the floor. A small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she saw the two brothers staring at her in wonder. "Ah he's right." An awkward chuckle escaped her lips, her free hand coming up to run nervous fingers through her unkempt chestnut colored hair.  While the hand still holding onto the washcloth gestured towards Bilbo who was now more concerned with the two other dwarves carrying things into his dining room. "Balin found me actually. Don't remember much but he said something about orcs." Calin shrugged in hopes that the little white lie would pass with the two brothers.

"A woman who escaped orcs, impressive." Kili smiled and ducked his head lower, his blue eyes fixated on the large gash on her forehead.

"Not really." Mumbling to herself quietly, Calin denied that fact. Unless Orc was a fancy new word for rock, then no, not very impressive.

"I am sure uncle will not be thrilled by her presence." Fili added, his face that once held curiosity now held an oddly fearful expression. His chest heaving a heavy sigh as he looked her over once again. His blue eyes boring holes into her skin like he would be able to read Calin’s true intentions. The look quickly vanished though as his head tilted causing his mustache braids to sway gently. "Perhaps she is who Gandalf spoke of. It would explain her direction of travel."

"She is a woman!" Kili's brow lifted in confusion. His hands raising up in exasperation and outright batting down his brother's words "Surely he would not ask her to join."

"She is a fighter brother." Slapping his brother's arm Fili pointed to her disheveled appearance. Calin indeed looked like she had fought her way through the forest but she wasn't a fighter, she had never picked up a sword or a fist for that matter. However in that moment she felt grateful for the young Durin prince. Even though he had hesitations about her arrival here, he didn't write her off like Dwalin, Balin, or his younger brother.

"Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand." Dwalin's loud booming voice echoed down the hall, breaking their  little moment apart.

"Mister Dwalin." Kili cheekily greeted as soon as he heard the familiar voice, causing him to venture over towards the others. Fili hesitated a moment, looking at her one last time with calculating eyes before following his brother. Leaving her alone once again.

Knowing that the others would undoubtedly be arriving shortly, she decided to clear her stuff from the room. Standing more quickly than she should have, her vision blurred and she stumbled a bit as she grabbed her bag. In the background she could hear the four dwarves still moving things about and Bilbo objecting vigorously.

It was falling on deaf ears still so Calin was surprised Bilbo continued his valiant attempts.

Slowly wandering down the hall she managed to find the bathroom. Well it wasn't exactly hard, Bilbo's house was easy enough to wander around, and all the room doors were open so it didn't take a genius to find the bath. Ducking in she placed the red tinged wash cloth on the counter by the sink, not really needing it anymore. But not knowing entirely what to do with it.

In the corner of the room by the large wooden tub was an ornate cupboard. Its brass looking handles gleaned from the candle that was perched on the windowsill. Deciding it was best to hide her bag, she strode over and opened the small door. Inside there were a few towels that had been neatly folded and tucked away for later use. It was safer if none of these curious dwarves saw what she had, just in case. For if they did, she would most certainly not be trusted by anyone here. And being an outsider as it was, she didn't need that happening.

Taking a quick glance over her shoulder she made sure the coast was clear before she shoved the bag into the cramped space. Surprisingly it fit almost perfectly allowing her to close the door as if nothing was ever disturbed.

Smiling to herself at the sneaky job well done, she made her way out of the bathroom and back to the foyer. Calin’s boots thudded against the old wooden floors as she grew closer. Bilbo still seemed to be trying his best to get the four dwarves to listen but as expected they still seemed in their own world.

Just as she got to the door, the bell rang out quite loud. Calin’s body flinched, not expecting it to be quite that ear piercing.

"Oh no. No, no! There's nobody home. Go away, and bother somebody else. There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If- if- If this is some clotterd's idea of a joke, ha ha, I can only say, it is in very poor taste." Bilbo rounded the corner, a scowl on his face, his bare feet stomping towards the door.

"I got it." Calin spun around gripping the heavy handle mainly so Bilbo wouldn't have to greet eight dwarves all at the same time. He barely handled two of them, any more than that would overload the poor hobbit.

Unlatching the lock, she yanked the door open, hearing several voices arguing from outside. As soon as the wooden door was slightly ajar it slipped out of her hand as dwarves came tumbling down at her feet. All of them groaned loudly, shouting at one another to get off. And right behind them stood an unusually tall man, in a grey robe. A tall grey hat stood on his head and a long walking stick posed in his hand as he peered down and into the hobbits house.

Gandalf...

"Gandalf." From behind her Bilbo muttered, but Gandalf didn't take heed. His gaze was trained solely on Calin, a smirk tugged at his thin lips and a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Chapter 3

tag list: @thelittletobsterthatcould

[rattyoakenbitch]

꒰ general otp dialogue prompts ꒱

cw - angst, allusions to suicide

"is this okay?"

"you look so beautiful.. even with all the bruises"

"just because you're a couple years older than me doesn't mean i'm a little baby!"

"you.. have a crush on me?" "yyyessss.." "jeez, did you bump your head?"

"what the fuck is this?"

"you should steer clear of people like me. you deserve better."

"shh, they're finally sleeping"

"you're so good to me and i.. i don't understand why"

"you're so beautiful" "and you look like a frog" (lovingly)

"i know what'll fix this.. where's my tattoo/piercing equipment?"

"i don't see myself living past 25 and i don't intend to."

"i'm sorry i don't know why i'm crying i just-" hiccup

"dammit, [name], i/we don't want you to die!" "well i do! i do!"

"you are the human embodiment of sunshine, y'know that?"

"you just had this lost puppy look on your face and it was impossible not to fall in love"

inbox open!

if you use any of these prompts, please tag me! i'd love to see your work :)

[gwen-ever]

Chapter 2: Axe or Sword

Hello, my beloved hobbits! 💖 Another chapter is here, and oh boy, this one is something. But before you dive in, let’s stir the pot a little, shall we? 😏 What do you all think happened between Thorin and Geira in the past? I swear, Thorin is the king of emotional constipation, but Geira? She’s not exactly innocent here either! 😘 So, are we getting a heated argument, a moment of soft vulnerability, or both? Who knows, maybe something entirely unexpected will happen… 😏 Let me know your thoughts—I live for your wild guesses and theories! Now, go on, enjoy the chapter! 💕

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight filtered through the treetops, forcing Geira to close her eyes. The day had turned out warmer than expected, and despite it being early spring, her shirt clung to her back with every step of Rosalie, her pony.

“You’re not too warm, are you, under all that fur?” Geira asked, stroking the pony’s grey mane with her fingertips.

In response, Rosalie let out a soft whinny and twitched her ears, signalling that the summer heat was Geira’s problem, not hers.

Rosalie was a very calm pony, her temperament so steady that for a moment, Geira could almost forget the heavy atmosphere still hanging over the Company. The pony’s serene nature helped keep her from glancing too often towards the head of the column.

From the rear, she could see every dwarf in the Company.

Occasionally, Balin would pull out a piece of parchment from his bag, examining it through his small golden monocle. 

Just as the years had passed for Geira, they had passed for everyone else. 

The only difference was that they had someone to remember them.

“My hobbit back isn’t exactly suited to long rides, and neither are my poor legs!”

Bilbo’s voice rose above the birdsong around them, snapping Geira out of her foolish, childish thoughts.

She cast a glance at the two horses trailing behind Gloin at the column’s forefront, her eyes landing on the hobbit, who was pressing one of his hands against his lower back.

“Oh, dear Bilbo, you have a long journey ahead of you. Make yourself comfortable and enjoy the wide horizon!” Gandalf sang, gesturing ahead with his staff.

“The very thought of standing is agony for my shoulders,” Bilbo shot back, craning his neck backwards. “I should have brought a cushion!”

“You’re right, Master Bilbo,” Dori agreed from directly behind him. “This saddle’s harder than the marble floors of the Emeralds’s Marketplace in Nogrod,” he grumbled, trying to shift into a better position.

“With this heat, brother, I’d much prefer a frosty golden ale from old Olaf’s tavern. Maybe two, if that thick-skulled dwarf would take copper coins for once!” Nori dreamily replied, leaning his neck back against the horse.

“ Kann barathgalt i’zuhu! ”

Bombur nodded, glancing over at his cousin seated just in front of him. “You’re right, cousin, that wouldn’t be half bad right about now!”

Despite the small talk, which briefly distracted her, Geira noticed Bilbo shifting and moving restlessly, still ignoring Gandalf’s advice. She barely managed to stifle a sour smile when she heard his neck crack yet again. And just as on the nights before, she felt a hidden side of herself ignite—one she hadn’t allowed to surface for years.

“Straighten up your back, Bilbo!” she called from the rear of the line, catching not only his attention but also that of several dwarves, shocked to hear her speak.

“W-what?” Bilbo asked, craning his neck to peer through three rows of dwarves to find her.

“Your back—keep it straight,” she repeated, tilting her head to the right so she could look him in the eye. “Otherwise, by the end of the day, you’ll feel like a pack mule if you keep hunching forward!”

Bilbo said nothing, merely furrowing his blonde brows as he turned around. Suddenly, he straightened his back, tilted his neck, and extended both arms forward in the most awkward posture imaginable.

Geira gave Rosalie a gentle nudge with her heels, urging the pony to pick up her trot. Quickening her pace, she wove past the dwarves until she reached Bilbo’s side.

“Like this—see?” she asked, keeping pace with him and demonstrating the correct posture by gesturing with her chin towards the alignment of her back. “Head and neck upright, arms in front of you,” she explained with a smile, ensuring her upper body was as straight as possible for him to mimic.

Bilbo gave her a confused look. “Well...” he began, examining his arms and locking his elbows slightly. Then, he straightened his back, lifting his chin high enough to see the sky but still low enough to look at the ground if needed.

“Like this?” he asked, holding the position.

She nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

“Well, it’s not comfortable at all!”

“It’s not comfortable now,” she explained. “But you’ll thank me later, Master Baggins, when your bones aren’t cracking like broken branches.”

She swore she saw a faint blush form beneath his golden sideburns on his beardless cheeks. “Oh, well, I... thank you...” he stammered, embarrassed, but he maintained his posture.

She smiled again before turning her gaze back to the green hills just beginning to emerge beyond the dense oak grove that surrounded them.

“How much have you travelled? If I may ask?” Bilbo suddenly asked, his tone visibly curious.

The question made her lips part slightly.

How much had she travelled?

How long had she been making the same simple motions without even realising it? How many ponies  that didn’t belong to her had she ridden? How long had she been wandering, not at the orders of a king, but simply because she couldn’t stay still? Too long.

The impulse to retreat to the rear of the line struck her again, as did the urge to leave Bilbo’s question unanswered. But she found a shred of strength when she saw the hope in the hobbit’s eyes.

“Enough to know how not to exhaust yourself after a day’s ride,” she answered quickly, unwilling to elaborate.

“With men, I suppose? I can smell them on you since last night,” growled Dwalin’s voice from behind, sending a chill down her spine and up, all the way to the tips of her hair.

She bit her tongue to keep from snapping back.

Turning her head slightly, she met the stern, shadowed face of the warrior dwarf. His dark brows were furrowed, a scar arching downward through one of them. His thick black beard barely hid his scowling mouth.

As the night before, she couldn’t help but want to rip that grimace off his face with her bare hands.

“Most of them, yes—men. They pay well,” she replied, shooting him a sharp look before turning forward again.

“They paid for that fine bow, I suppose, and that coat of yours as well,” Dwalin continued sarcastically, making her grip the pony’s reins tighter in her hands.

“They pay me well, Master Dwalin. Well enough to survive without asking too many questions about me,” she retorted, keeping her voice calm as her gaze drifted to the bow hanging at the pony’s side. Its pale wood made it clear it hadn’t been crafted by her kin.

And how could it have been? She hadn’t spoken to a dwarf in nearly a century and a half, and Dwalin knew it—he knew it all too well.

“Because if they asked, they’d know you’d turn your back on them the moment you got a better offer. That’s why you don’t want them knowing who you are?” he spat angrily. The dwarf quickened his trot to come alongside her. “Maybe it’s because they’d find out why a dwarf warrior roams the Wild Lands alone?” he taunted.

“When they start asking questions, I move to another settlement,” she replied quickly. “I trade my weapons for a roof over my head. Isn’t that what you do? The last time I saw you, you were escorting their caravans from east to west. I just get paid to fight for them,” she reminded him, throwing him a sharp glance.

“That’s not the same thing,” Dwalin growled.

“Oh, it’s not? So that coat wasn’t paid for with their gold, was it? Or those boots? And you didn’t pay the smith with their silver coins, did you?” she shot back, turning her head fully towards Dwalin.

Dwalin’s brows furrowed deeply, his eyes blazing with pure fury. Before she realised it, he surged forward and tugged on her pony’s reins, forcing her to stop and nearly crashing into him.

Bilbo flinched slightly beside her as Dwalin stopped them both in their tracks, glaring at her as if she were an orc with a mouthful of blood.

“We do it to help our people—you do it for yourself!” he spat in disgust. “You’ve always done everything for yourself! You’ve never cared about your people! You’ve no right to speak of us!” he shouted at her, his rage boiling over.

Each word struck through the iron armour Geira had built around her chest, around those memories.

She could feel her blood boiling in her veins and her hands tingling with the temptation to grab her sword and hold it to the dwarf’s neck, forcing him to take back every word.

He knew nothing. Nothing!

“Don’t you dare, Dwalin, speak of my life as though you know it, as though you’ve ever known it!” she hissed.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. The birds had stopped singing, and the warmth around her had been replaced by an icy chill. No one in the Company dared speak or even breathe.

Dwalin clenched his jaw, leaning in closer to her. “What I do know is that you’re a traitor, filth who can’t make amends even with her hair shorn short. You—filthy—”

“Did I ever tell ya I used to own a goat named Rind?”

Bofur’s voice broke through the ranks, interrupting Dwalin’s words. “She was all white with a black mark shaped like a crescent moon over her left eye,” he continued from the back of the line, chuckling softly.

Geira didn’t turn, but she heard the birdsong resume, the warmth return, and a series of grunts rising from the rear of the column.

It was as if the entire world had started breathing again, yet she still felt the world behind her burning.

She continued locking eyes with Dwalin, and in his green eyes, she saw unspoken words hanging heavy.

Can you ever make amends for what you’ve done to him?

And what did he do to me?

She wanted to answer him, but Bofur had decided this was a conversation that shouldn’t take place—and perhaps, for now, it was better that way.

The ponies resumed their trot, leaving only her and Dwalin in the middle of the path. Several seconds passed before Dwalin, with an irritated glance, tugged his horse around and rode ahead, leaving her behind.

When his gaze left hers, she exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to ignore the confused and worried look Bilbo cast her way as he passed.

“…She used to sleep under me bed, y’know. Did I ever tell ya about the time I came home and found half of me furniture covered in her slobber?” Bofur’s cheerful voice reached her ears again, along with the inevitable groans that followed.

“Oh, in Durin’s name, Bofur, not again...” Nori muttered.

“So one day I went to the workshop, like I do every day, and I bought some cheese and milk for the next day...”

Geira didn’t hear the rest of the story as she stood motionless, letting the entire caravan of dwarves pass by.

It wasn’t until Fili and Kili passed her that she raised her gaze again, and her breath caught in her throat.

Thorin remained as still as she was in the middle of the path, letting the rest of the Company move on while he stayed behind, watching her with an unreadable expression. 

They both stood in silence, neither of them speaking, as though Thorin’s silence was shouting at her.

And yet, it was only at that moment, hidden from the eyes of all, that she finally took a proper look at him and noticed how much he had... aged.

Thorin’s black hair had lightened, streaked with silver strands. His once-soft profile had sharpened like a blade, a myriad of fine wrinkles adding to his regal bearing in a way that hadn’t been there 120 years ago.

Yet all she felt looking at him was unease and anger—too much anger.

Only when he turned and resumed riding, his back to her, did Geira force herself to remember why she was there. All she needed to do in this place was complete her mission.

She just had to not even look him in the face.

Geira dropped her sword and stretched, raising her arms and glancing around the rocky outcrop where they had found shelter for the night. The site was surrounded by small hills covered in fir trees and evergreens.

The iron pot was already over the fire, and the typical pile of blankets and backpacks lay scattered nearby. In a few hours, they would be claimed by the luckiest among them, those who had managed to dismount their ponies and toss their belongings to the ground before the others.

The two brothers, Bombur and Bofur, were hunched over the copper pot from which a mouth-watering aroma emanated, instantly awakening her appetite; she hadn't eaten a thing since that morning.

She glanced around, searching for Gandalf, who was sitting by the fire, puffing on his pipe and listening to Dori. Dori, the eldest of Nori and Ori's brothers, was chatting idly, mostly complaining about Nori's inefficiency. Gloin and Oin were busy cleaning themselves up, while Fili and Kili were already chuckling quietly.

The only one excluded from that joy seemed to be her.

Her argument with Dwalin that morning appeared to have left no impression on anyone—and why should it? It was Dwalin’s problem, and more precisely, her problem. She certainly didn’t expect anyone to say a word; they hadn’t even looked her in the face, and she definitely wasn’t going to start a conversation.

Grumbling at the slight soreness in her thighs caused by hours of riding, she tried to follow the others' example. She knelt on the ground and pulled out her bedroll from her bag, unfurling it  in front of her with a single motion.

"Pick a spot to sleep; Nori, gather the ponies while Bombur finishes cooking," Thorin ordered as he strode through the small campsite, his satchel slung over one shoulder and his sword firmly gripped in hand.

Nori nodded in approval before getting to his feet, brushing his hands against his jacket, ready to carry out his leader's command without question.

She caught Thorin in the corner of her eye as he arranged his things on the opposite side of the campfire from her. She knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

"Master Baggins, mind you don’t lean too far over," Thorin called sharply, addressing an unseen point behind her.

It was only then that she noticed Bilbo standing at the cliff’s edge, hands clasped behind his back, gazing downward. At the sound of Thorin’s voice, the hobbit’s pointed ears seemed to perk up, and with two slow steps, he moved away from the precipice, nodding at the dwarf as he did.

Oin was standing next to him, peering over the cliff with his ear trumpet in hand. "It’s quite the drop, my boy—are you sure you fancy tumbling off this cliff?" he asked dryly.

Bilbo began shaking his head, raising a finger to object, but before he could respond, Nori approached, leading two ponies by their reins.

"We could always send Bombur to fetch him," Nori said with a chuckle.

"And then who’ll fetch Bombur?" Gloin retorted, sparking a round of laughter in which even Bombur himself joined.

Bilbo remained silent, staring into the void, his small hands restlessly fidgeting.

She pushed herself off the ground and approached Bilbo, who still had his back to her. Passing the blazing fire, she ignored Dwalin's gaze as he rose from his bedroll to tend to the pot brimming with food.

"How’s your back?" she asked Bilbo, folding her arms across her chest.

The hobbit startled slightly, stammering nervously. "Ehmm, it’s—fine, really. I thought it would be much worse."

She nodded, moving to stand beside him near the ledge. "I told you, even the leg pain will ease over time," she said, referring to her own aches, which continued to cause mild spasms in her thighs.

Bilbo glanced around briefly before leaning closer, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Sleeping like this won’t help the pain at all," he said.

"Not at all, but it’s something you get used to," she replied with unvarnished honesty.

Just like the night before and the morning of that same day, she felt as light as a flower petal and as vulnerable as a child.

She knew what was going through his mind and envied Bilbo—deeply and shamefully, but she envied him.

That fear, that yearning to leap into the unknown and never look back.

It had been her dream, always her dream since she was young: to be free, to wander through the forests and valleys of Middle-earth, to gaze at the stars in the night while lying on the grass, to watch the snow falling and glistening in the twilight, and to feel the wind tousling her hair as she twirled her sword in the air. That had been her dream, until loyalty had triumphed over her desires and selfishness, until that same loyalty had taken everything away from her and condemned her to solitude.

Until her oaths, her devotion to what she loved and deemed right, had left her living as an outcast, accepting everything she once desired—but alone.

"It's so beautiful…" Bilbo exclaimed after a long pause, snapping her out of her dark and sorrowful thoughts. "But it's a beauty that fills me with a fear I've never felt before," he admitted, stammering with embarrassment while continuing to gaze at the horizon.

Geira nodded and looked at the mountain ridges, observing how they overlapped to form a small wall that blended with the wisps of clouds above them, tinged pink and lilac by the sunset's end. The evening breeze caressed her face, brushing strands of brown hair behind her ear and under the red shirt she was wearing.

She closed her eyes, savouring this brief moment of peace she hadn’t granted herself in ages.

"My aunt always used to say that the fear of the unknown is simply your body asking you to explore it," she murmured under her breath.

Bilbo drew a small breath, letting out a soft chuckle. "Your aunt sounds fascinating."

"She was… fascinating, I suppose you could say," she replied absentmindedly, unable to hide a thread of melancholy in her voice.

Bilbo’s green eyes widened slightly, and his mouth turned downwards at this realisation.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t…"

"Don’t be," she interrupted. "She left this world on her own terms, just as she always wanted. She gave her life for someone she cared deeply about."

"Your uncle?" he asked, curious.

Geira lowered her gaze slightly and glanced over her shoulder at the sword resting a short distance away from her, following its rigid lines, the black and golden engravings along the blade.

"Something like that, Master Hobbit," she replied curtly.

Before Bilbo could respond, two bowls entered their line of sight, interrupting their conversation: Bofur stood beside them, holding out the two dishes with an excited flourish and a huge grin peeking out from under his comical black moustache.

"And these last ones are for you two!" he exclaimed, extending his arms wider towards them.

Geira took the wooden bowl filled with hot stew and thanked him with a slight nod, to which the dwarf responded with a small tip of his hat before turning to Bilbo, who had taken the bowl in his hands, turning it around in his palms.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked, gesturing to the stew.

"Venison stew with carrots and celery, the finest stew east of Eriador!" Bofur proclaimed confidently, planting his fists on his hips. "Go on, have a taste," he urged, gesturing at Bilbo’s bowl and spoon before shifting his gaze to her. "Ya too! Don’t be shy!"

She couldn’t help but hide her surprise at the gesture, flinching slightly and looking at the dwarf with a touch of confusion. But he was undeterred, repeatedly glancing from the bowl to her.

"Come on, I want to know what ya think!"

She smiled and grasped the spoon in her fingers, scooping a piece of stew and bringing it to her mouth. As soon as it touched her palate, it melted instantly and slid down her throat without needing to chew.

Oh yes, it was probably the finest stew she’d ever tasted in all of Eriador.

She might have let out a small moan, quickly stifled with her hand, but the dwarf noticed and laughed softly.

"Told ya," Bofur said cheerfully. "It would’ve been divine with potatoes and dark ale!"

Geira took another bite, savouring the warm meal, satisfying her stomach’s demands and her palate. 

Yes, Bofur was right—if she had a good mug of ale, this stew would have been worthy of a royal banquet.

She could even picture it if she squinted: the coloured fabrics adorning the ceiling, the bonfire in the centre of the hall, the shouts, the music, the dances—all things she hadn’t seen or experienced in a long time.

Suddenly, a low growl distracted Bofur, who gestured towards the blazing fire and Bombur, who, with his plate still full, was heading back to the pot..

"In Durin’s name!" Bofur muttered under his breath before spinning on his heel and marching towards the fire. "Bombur, stop that! That’s for everyone, you daft lump!" he scolded, throwing his arms in the air.

Bilbo chuckled quietly beside her before resuming his meal, tearing his gaze away from the now starry horizon.

She, however, stayed and watched the scene unfold before her: Bombur darted back and forth, trying to dodge his brother’s grasp while attempting to dip his spoon into the pot. Meanwhile, Bofur, amidst a chorus of background laughter and genuine shouts betting on one of the two, chased him around the fire. What had just happened was strange—very strange—but she had to admit, it was pleasant. She never would have expected such a gesture under the eyes of everyone from a dwarf she barely knew. Twice in one day, Bofur had shown her the bare minimum of kindness due to any living being. And yet, she marvelled, as if a dwarf talking to her was a rare or even impossible event—although it was rare and impossible.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Bilbo's voice drew her attention.

Geira turned to look at him, noticing how he was gazing at her with a friendly, faint smile on his bearded lips.

Confused, she tilted her head slightly. "For what? There’s nothing you need to thank me for," she said.

The hobbit shook his head, raising a hand to stop her. "I thank you, Geira, daughter of Geiri, for helping me," he whispered.

Geira shivered slightly, doing her best to conceal what a simple thank you had stirred within her. She offered him a sweet smile, lowering her head to hide how much it was widening.

Perhaps kindness towards her was no longer such a rare and impossible occurrence.

Soon enough, more or less everyone had devoured every single morsel of stew from the pot. The echoes of laughter and the background chatter had faded completely, leaving only the howling wind through the trees and the faint crackle of the fire, interspersed with the light snores of the dwarves huddled around it.

The light chill in the air had intensified and sharpened, enough to make Geira curl up against the rocky wall and wrap the cloak she had loathed that morning tightly around her shoulders.

In Durin’s name, she absolutely needed a smoke! Perhaps it would clear her head enough to let her sleep, at least for a couple of hours.

She sat up, pulling the fur blanket along with her, and began rummaging through the bag next to her. She pulled out her pouch of tobacco and the pipe within it. Squinting, she leaned her back against the rock, feeling her leg muscles begging for mercy.

She opened the pouch, inspecting the finely shredded orange and brown leaves. She then searched her pack again, muttering in frustration. Damn!

She opened it wide but found nothing at all: her pipe cleaner was missing. She had used it the last time she smoked… on Bilbo’s bench.

She brought both hands to her face, shaking her head. Things were going from bad to worse. Her flint and steel were miles away, probably never to be seen again, and now she was stuck with a clogged pipe and stale tobacco from the entire journey.

She turned the pipe over in her hands before glancing toward Fili and Kili, who, thank Mahal, were still awake. Kili, in particular, was cleaning his pipe with a pipe cleaner—so they had one.

Even though the idea of talking to either of them was far from appealing, she had to ask for the favour. Her sanity depended on it.

"Kili?" she called softly, leaning toward the fire.

The young dwarf stopped cleaning his pipe and looked at her, tilting his head to the side, waiting for her to continue.

"Could you lend me your pipe cleaner, please? I… I don’t have one, unfortunately," she asked, holding up her pipe to show him.

Kili looked at the pipe, then at his brother seated beside him, giving him a small nudge on the shoulder to grab his attention, making the gold embroidery of his blue shirt catch the firelight. "My pipe cleaner, you say?" he asked, dangling the small wooden object teasingly in front of her face.

Children.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded. "Yes, your pipe cleaner, Prince Kili."

Kili’s grin widened even more, and with a swift movement, he closed his hand around the pipe cleaner and hid it behind his back in mockery, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on her.

"Only if you come here and smoke with us!"

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes—after all, she had asked for it.

"Kili…" she muttered, sighing.

"Forget it then!" he cut her off, slowly raising himself to his feet and hiding the cleaner even further behind his back.

Reluctantly, she sighed heavily, placing the pipe stem in her mouth. Using both hands for support, she moved closer to the fire, taking a seat not far from Fili, who was watching her with satisfaction. Picking up her pipe again, she extended her other hand toward Kili, who still had the cleaner tucked behind him.

"May I borrow your pipe cleaner, Kili?" she asked, observing how the younger prince’s bright eyes lit up slightly.

He smiled at her and handed over the small wooden tool, but suddenly jerked it back at the last moment, making her flinch and start to lose her patience.

Now she was certain—they were the princess’s children. That insistent, mischievous character could only be inherited from her.

"How old are you?" Kili asked slyly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward her.

"You talk too much for my liking, young prince," she replied sharply.

"I’m curious as well, to be honest," Fili chimed in, exhaling a puff of white smoke from his pipe into the air as he watched her from above. "I’d like to know how old you are."

This was becoming blackmail, and she’d had enough of Durin’s sons mocking and teasing her all day. She was too tired—too tired even to be angry, or to stand up and snatch the cleaner from Kili’s hands.

"I don’t want to smoke anymore," she declared, raising both hands in surrender, preparing to return to her resting place.

"Oh, come on," Kili interrupted, raising his voice slightly and earning a glare from Fili. "Just answer the question, and I’ll give it to you!"

"I don’t want to answer that question."

"And why not?" Fili asked this time, ignoring her refusal. He gripped his pipe tightly between his fingers. "Either you’re really old, or you’re really young and you’ve tricked us. Is your age such a big secret?"

That simple sentence silenced her and made her heart pound, confronting her with the truth: was she truly afraid of them knowing?

They weren’t fools. They had seen the engraving on her sword, and perhaps now all they needed was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm their suspicions. Then they, too, would view her as others had—a traitor, without knowing her side of the truth.

Fili remained silent for a long time, studying her face, illuminated by the interplay of orange light and shadow created by the fire. "How old are you?" he finally asked bluntly, removing the pipe from his mouth.

"One hundred and ninety-one," she replied just as swiftly, turning toward him and locking eyes with the piercing blue gaze so typical of his lineage, awaiting his reaction.

She waited in silence, bracing herself for judgment, a word, or even a glance toward her sword, still resting nearby against the rocky wall. But nothing came.

Fili and Kili exchanged sidelong glances, speaking to each other in a way she couldn’t hear. After a few looks and subtle nods, the dark-haired dwarf finally unclasped his hands.

"Seems fair to me!" Kili exclaimed, tossing the cleaner into her hand with a cheeky grin.

Geira took it with resignation and sighed, finally beginning to clean her pipe while leaning her back against the rough but warm stone of the small bay.

Suddenly, a sharp cry echoed through the darkness of the night, sending chills racing down her spine and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Geira clenched her hands and quickly sat up straight, scanning the dark landscape before her and the thin veil of mist settling over the mountains.

"What was that?"

It was only when she heard Bilbo's voice that her focus shifted from the shadowy horizon to the hobbit, who was moving towards them, pointing nervously over his shoulder.

She was about to answer, setting the pipe and cleaner aside, but someone beat her to it.

"Orcs," Kili said, his expression serious and concerned.

"Orcs?!" Bilbo repeated, quickening his pace towards them.

"Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there," Fili added, puffing on his pipe and lowering his voice dramatically. "The Wilds are crawling with them."

Bilbo’s eyes widened.

"They strike in the dead of night, when everyone’s asleep. Swift and silent, no screams. Only blood," Kili concluded, lowering his voice even further while theatrically glancing around.

But Bilbo, evidently missing the irony, gaped in terror, glancing over his shoulder while the two brothers began to snicker, their gazes falling to the ground as they gave each other playful nudges.

If their goal was to terrify Bilbo for weeks, they had succeeded.

Geira let out a heavy sigh, fixing the two brothers with a piercing glare as they continued chuckling under their breath.

"Don’t you…" she began.

"Do you think this is funny?"

Geira stiffened when she recognised Thorin's voice, cutting through the air with anger. Rising from his seat to pose the question, he now towered over the two princes. Previously sitting apart, he now loomed over them not far from her. His sharp profile cut through the firelight as he advanced, still glaring at the princes.

"Do you think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" he asked again, his voice gravelly.

Kili lowered his gaze in guilt. "We didn’t mean anything by it," he murmured weakly.

"No you didn’t!" Thorin barked. "You know nothing of the world!"

Geira gripped her pipe tightly in her hand, her body tensing immediately upon hearing those words. But even just hearing his voice angered her so much that she continued to follow him with her eyes, watching as he turned his back and strode heavily towards the edge of the rock, which overlooked a steep drop.

"Don’t mind him, laddie," Balin interjected this time. Geira lifted her gaze slightly as she noticed the elder dwarf approaching the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He was addressing Kili directly. "Thorin has more reason than most to hate the orcs," he continued, leaning an arm against the stones behind him.

Geira noticed Bilbo watching the older dwarf in confusion, while she knew exactly what he was referring to.

"After the dragon claimed the Lonely Mountain, King Thror sought to reclaim the ancient kingdom of Moria…"

Upon hearing those words, Geira’s grip on the pipe tightened as memories came flooding back—stories told by travellers, passed from man to man, from merchant to merchant, over the years. Tales of death, despair, and everything that had afflicted her people, all of which she had only heard about second-hand because she hadn’t been allowed to take part. She had been forbidden to save her people or reclaim her ancestral home, where she would never set foot again.

In an instant, the meadow before her transformed into dust. Her hands no longer gripped a pipe but the hilt of a sword. Her face was not streaked with sweat but smeared with drops of enemy blood. In an instant, she was transported—thanks to Balin’s words—100 years into the past.

"But our enemy got there first."

"Moria had been overrun by legions of orcs, led by the most vile of their kind: Azog the Defiler."

From the mass of bodies and swords emerged a white orc. Swinging his mace rhythmically, he easily swept aside every warrior in front of his fur-covered eyes. Commands in the Black Speech spilled from his mouth like the darkest of curses as he slaughtered anyone in his path.

"For years, he prowled those corridors, turning those mines into his lair. He knew that if he wanted complete control, he needed to make one final move. The great orc of Gundabad had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin," Balin said.

Amidst the smoke and flames of the pyres emerged four figures, each close to the other, covering each other’s backs. King Thror, with his gleaming crown, advanced through the ranks of orcs. Prince Thrain blocked arrows or blows aimed at his father, covered in blood from head to toe. And behind him… Thorin. Sword in hand, shouting and protecting his younger brother from every danger, while the dark eyes of Frerin glistened with tears.

"It began… with the beheading of the king," Balin continued.

Geira clenched her teeth.

My aunt gave her life to protect someone she was deeply devoted to.

But she wasn’t there when she was needed once more.

Thror’s glittering crown fell to the ground, into the mud and filth, as his head was raised high in the orc’s fist—a grim trophy of victory over the dwarves.

"Prince Frerin charged the orc alone, but he was slaughtered before he could even reach him."

Geira felt a sharp pang in her chest as the scene playing in her mind dissolved. She raised her gaze to Balin, who continued speaking to Bilbo, his eyes veiled with grief.

Frerin… was… dead?

In a flash, she lowered her gaze in disbelief, then lifted her eyes back to Thorin, watching his silhouette bend forward against the night.

Frerin had died at Azanulbizar, and she hadn’t known. She had never known. For all these years, she had believed he was safe with his family—with his brother, his sister, his father—but he was gone.

"Driven by grief, Thrain, Thorin’s father, led a charge towards the Dimrill Gate. It was a slaughter."

A line of dwarves broke away from the rest of the army, raising their shields high to create a passage through the orcs. They ran relentlessly, cutting down every enemy in their path. But with every orc they killed, three more fell from their own ranks. By the time they reached the gate, less than half of them remained.

"Thrain was driven mad by his sorrow. He vanished—whether taken prisoner or slain, we did not know. We were leaderless."

At those words, Geira’s thoughts turned to one person and one alone. Her heart began to race in her chest. She could picture the figure clearly: a line of silver amulets and long blue cloaks, one darker than the others, streaked with black iron veins. A square circlet on the forehead held back a long, blonde braid.

No, it couldn’t be true.

"Herja?" she whispered, raising her gaze to Balin.

The old dwarf nodded silently, looking at her as one might look at a wounded animal.

She immediately cast her gaze downward, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders. In that moment, everything became clear: this was why Fili and Kili knew nothing. This was why Gandalf had called on her, and not someone else.

If Thrain had disappeared, Herja was dead. Her aunt was dead. She was… the last one left.

"Our defeat and deaths were inevitable, but it was then that I saw him—a young dwarven prince—facing the pale orc."

On his knees, Thorin rose from the ground, his teeth gritted. His black hair clung to his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. But in the depths of his blue eyes, there was no fear—only rage, honour, and vengeance. A vengeance that burned with pride, the spirit of his ancestors filling his body and taking over, making him stronger than any earthly calamity.

"He was alone, facing this terrible foe."

Through the mist, Thorin leapt at the massive orc, sword drawn, and began fighting with all his might, shouting from the depths of his chest. She could see him struggling to strike, limping, hunched under the orc’s powerful blows. Yet every time he was knocked to the ground, he rose again.

"His armour was torn, and he wielded only an oaken branch as a shield."

Thorin’s hand reached for the branch lying on the ground and seized it, shielding himself from the relentless force of the orc’s strikes. She could hear his cries and groans as the bones in his arm fractured.

"Ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for his people."

More real than ever, she saw Thorin kneeling, blood on his face and dripping from his mouth. Groaning in pain, he fought on, shielding the front lines behind him and allowing them to advance towards the main gate.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be broken so easily."

Thorin let out a piercing battle cry, summoning the last of his strength to sever the pale orc’s arm completely. Black blood sprayed across his face as the orc collapsed in agony, falling to his knees before the triumphant dwarf prince.

"Our forces rallied and drove back the orcs. Our enemy was defeated."

The dwarves behind Thorin stared in awe, inspired by the final act of strength from the son of Durin, who stood tall, mighty, and legendary on the hill before their ancestral home. He shone like the Seventh Star, unstoppable as Mahal’s hammer on the anvil. He was the king of all dwarves, the lord of all the Children of Aulë.

Victory was theirs.

"But that night, there was no celebration, no songs, for our dead were beyond counting. We, the few, had survived."

And yet, amidst the joy, the bodies of the fallen remained fallen. The pyres continued to burn, and Frerin’s body lay lifeless on the ground, beside his grandfather’s shattered armour. Warriors clung to each other, foreheads pressed together, doubled over with grief. The bloodshed had given way to tears and the relentless awareness that the massacre of that day would echo through all the ages to come.

"And it was then that I thought: there is someone I could follow. There is someone I could call king," Balin declared, his tone filled with hope and love.

Only then did Geira raise her gaze and realise that the rest of the company had awakened. Now, they were staring at Thorin with wide eyes. Some placed a hand on their chest, while others simply remained silent, admiring their… king. She, however, felt an abyss open beneath her, swallowing her whole as Thorin turned, silently observing all his companions—except her.

Geira lowered her head, hiding her face as a storm of conflicting emotions rose in her chest: pain, anger, pride, and guilt, all consuming her like a fire.

"And what of the pale orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked curiously, drawing his knees to his chest.

"He crawled back into the hole he came from!" Thorin growled, striding back towards the fire, his heavy steps grinding into the dirt. "That filth died of his wounds long ago and he will not return," he said.

Dead.

Geira stiffened at the certainty with which Thorin had spoken. Among the villages of Men, in recent years, there were whispers of a massive white orc, of wargs and orcs pillaging every settlement they came across, leaving only bones and ashes in their wake.

In the silence, she glanced at Gandalf, who was watching Thorin with a frown. Thorin didn’t know. And no one had had the courage to tell him.

Another battle was raging within her: it was essential to tell him, it was only right that Thorin knew. But was it her place to do so? And why? Why should it fall to her? His companions ought to take care of him, just as he had taken care of them. She owed him nothing.

And besides, he wouldn’t believe her. He would shout at her, call her a liar.

Biting her trembling lip, she finally let the words escape, carried by something she couldn’t quite define.

"There are rumours in the East that say otherwise," she muttered, fixing her gaze on her black boots, avoiding meeting the dwarf's gaze, which now bore down on her again.

"No one asked for your input in this conversation or your opinion," Thorin replied coldly, turning towards her bed with a harsh glare that, if it could, would have set her aflame on the spot.

"I don’t need to be included in the conversation to dispel one of your certainties!" she retorted, the first stirrings of anger rising in her chest.

"My certainty?" he scoffed, stepping slowly towards the fire. "I watched it happen before my eyes. I was there while they massacred my people. I was there to see them die. And you... where were you?"

Geira remained silent, unwilling to answer, for whatever she said, she would always be seen as a liar. Always seen through his eyes as a traitor and a pawn of his kingdom. It was better to stay quiet and tend to her own affairs.

But her silence only enraged the king further.

"I asked you a question. Answer me!" Thorin barked, his voice rising.

"I wasn’t given the chance to be there. I wasn’t allowed. And you brought this fate upon me! If only I had known about the battle before it happened!" she shouted back.

She stood up quickly, and now only the fire separated them.

With some apprehension, she noticed the others were watching silently. Even Bilbo, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his knees drawn to his chest, stared at her, stunned.

Here, everyone would side with their sovereign, whether he was right or not.

"You were the architect of your fate, and yours alone! You chose your side. I did not make your choice for you!" he hissed, his voice filled with fury.

"And it was you who denied me the opportunity, who denied my father the opportunity to..." She bit her lip, cutting the sentence short.

No, she couldn’t say it—not aloud. It hurt too much. After all this time, it still hurt too much.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together, trying to stop the trembling in her hands.

She decided to make one last attempt to prove her innocence. "I only ask..." she struggled to get the words out, "...that you trust me."

She realised how foolish she had been when she saw the icy look he gave her in response.

"I did trust you, if you remember. And I remember well where it got me—where it got all of us," he snarled.

He turned his back on her, walking with heavy, deliberate steps towards the edge of the rock, which opened onto a deep chasm, ignoring her completely.

It felt like a slap on her face. Geira felt a sudden urge to scream at the top of her lungs, to unleash her frustration and fury. Did he think he hated her more than she hated him? Oh, that cursed dwarf understood nothing—nothing at all.

"I remember too. I remember an exile that should never have happened! I remember a blind king, deaf to the truth, ignoring the pleas of one of his most trusted counsellors. I remember the despair and shame. I remember when you made me kneel and cut my hair, condemning me to exile. I remember wandering the Wilds, forbidden from speaking to anyone of my kin. And I remember the pain and death that followed—all of my world erased!" Her voice, strong and resolute at first, wavered, too much pain still lingering in her heart from those memories.

Breathing heavily, she spoke quickly, hoping no one would interrupt her. A long silence followed, none of the dwarves daring to make the slightest sound. Their eyes flicked between her enraged and distressed face and Thorin’s broad back.

Everyone, more or less, was aware of the deep divide and discord between them, and they knew better than to interfere. Even Dwalin kept silent; this wasn’t something for them to meddle in.

"Exile is a just punishment for those who betray their people. It was just for someone who turned their back and chose to consort with the enemy, conspiring behind their king's back, and watching their city burn!"

"That never happened! I came back! I came back, hoping that you, of all people, would understand and listen to me!"

"There was no reason to listen to more lies from your mouth! To hear your selfish excuses for why you weren’t there that day! For how you put yourself first above all else! For how your father conspired with the enemy!" Thorin roared, refusing to turn and face her, as if she were unworthy of his attention.

That was too much. He had no right to speak to her like that, to treat her as if she hadn’t tried to explain herself, as if all the pain and tears she had shed for him that day so long ago meant nothing.

"For once in my life, I put myself first. Yes, I lied. Yes, I betrayed. Yes, I put love above everything else. But I also put my love for Erebor above all else. I put my love for my family above all else! Just as you put everything else first—your pride and your blindness to what was happening in that mountain!" she snapped back, pointing a finger at him.

"Do not speak to me of love for Erebor. You know nothing of love!" Thorin bellowed, furious.

She flinched at the sharp pain that pierced her chest, as though his words were a dagger driven into her heart.

Her muscles tensed, like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.

"You fled!" he spat, his voice laced with disdain. "You covered for a traitor, despite swearing before Mahal, and while you were gone, our people burned in their homes!"

Geira opened her mouth, stunned but trembling with rage. Unexpectedly, she laughed—a bitter, sorrowful laugh, utterly devoid of joy.

"You want me to say it’s all my fault, don’t you? That if not for me, our people would still be alive? That if not for me, everything that led to this moment would never have happened? That if not for me, Erebor would still be ours, you would be king, and everything would be perfect, wouldn’t it?" she whispered, though her tone carried like a scream in the frozen silence that hung between them.

Thorin didn’t move an inch.

"Answer me!" she snapped in anger, unable to control herself. She was too tired, far too tired for this. "Say it to my face, damn it!"

At an agonisingly slow pace, Thorin turned, his piercing gaze meeting hers.

She trembled, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails bit into her skin. She couldn’t calm herself, not now, not when the dam of her pent-up hatred had broken.

Thorin, in contrast, betrayed no emotion, as though the argument didn’t concern him at all. He remained silent, save for a furrowed brow and lips pressed thin, barely parted. Geira knew he would never be fooled by the sight of a few tears—tears he would never see her shed in his presence again.

Oh no, she swore in that moment, he would never see her cry.

"The love of Durin’s line for gold and wealth far exceeds your love for the people around you, leaving you blind. Your pride, your blindness, will lead you down the path of darkness, one way or another. And know this: I have no intention of giving my life for you just to see it wasted," she declared.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off along the steep, rocky path they had taken to the cliff, disappearing into the forest’s dense shadows. She stumbled more than once over protruding roots, running clumsily in the oppressive but oddly comforting darkness.

Geira wished the darkness would swallow her whole—a prayer she had repeated for years.

She fell onto the uneven rocky surface, tearing her trousers and scraping her knees. The sting in her palms as they hit the hard ground reminded her that even this time, the darkness had not taken her. She picked herself up, limping a few more steps ahead before finding a fallen log. She collapsed onto it, exhausted from both her flight and the despair that overwhelmed her.

Sharp pain came from her palm, and as the darkness made it impossible to see, she felt around with her fingers. A small, pointed stone was embedded in her skin, likely lodged there during her fall. She held her breath, trying to steady herself. It was hard even to suppress her sobs, and her trembling wouldn’t stop. She pulled the stone out of her hand with a sharp tug, gasping, and flung it far into the trees. The dull sound of it landing among them joined the eerie, unsettling noises of the forest, where it always felt like something was watching from between the tall trunks. But truth be told, at that moment, the strange sounds weren’t Geira’s biggest concern.

Tearing a strip from her red shirt, long enough to wrap around her palm twice, she made a makeshift bandage. With no water to clean the shallow cut or the blood trickling from it, she tied the fabric tightly around her hand, knotting it despite the stinging pain.

Every attempt to hold back her tears had failed miserably the moment she hit the ground. She didn’t care about the blurry vision—she had no need of her eyes. The tears poured freely now, as though she hadn’t cried in years. And in truth, she hadn’t.

She vividly remembered the last time she cried, and why.

It was, after all, the same reason she was crying now. It was always the same reason. And yet, despite the years that had passed since that day—during which she hadn’t shed a single tear, hardening her heart—here she was, back where she had started. All it took were Thorin’s accusations and the hatred she had silently endured during her years of exile to resurface, consuming her mind and heart. No matter how hard she tried to forget the past, she  could never escape it. It always came back, eventually.

All she wanted was to fulfil her oaths, to live her life in peace. But like this? It was impossible.

She didn’t know how much time had passed—maybe hours. But the moon was now high in the sky, and the pain in her hand had dulled. For the first time in ages, she wanted to be truly alone, with no one around. She wanted to drown in the darkness.

Alone.

Geira clenched her fists, ignoring the small silver bracelet that slipped out from beneath her sleeve. She had cried enough over the past that night, and she wanted it to stop.

After a few minutes of walking through branches and broken trunks, she was the first to return to the camp where the others were sleeping soundly, their snores and calm breaths steady. She quickly surveyed the scene, counting to twelve: one was missing. Geira didn’t need to think twice—she knew exactly who it was.

Returning to her spot as quietly as possible, she knelt before her blanket. On it, she found her pipe and a handkerchief—the handkerchief Bofur had given Bilbo. Her hand trembled as she touched it, and even more so as she glanced over at Bilbo, sleeping not far from her.

A small smile escaped her lips.

She lay down slowly. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was slow to come. Every sound pricked her ears, and many hours later, one finally caught her attention. Heavy footsteps were approaching from the opposite direction of where she had fled. They came closer, stepping into the perimeter of the firelight, then stopped.

With a jolt in her chest, Geira felt Thorin’s piercing gaze land on her back. She thanked the heavens she was turned away from him, so he couldn’t see she was struggling to feign sleep.

She felt his eyes on her for a long time, leaving her restless and uneasy. Finally, she heard him lie down in his place.

More time passed, and eventually, Geira felt the pull of sleep envelop her, her limbs heavy, her eyelids closing in the comforting embrace of oblivion. The last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was a low, deep sigh.

[lathalea]

Remember that Thorin fanfic?

Some time ago I wrote The White Raven, a tale about Thorin Oakenshield and his Raveness, about the legend and the truth, love and fate. Do you still remember that story?

I would like to post a new chapter soon and I'm wondering if you are still interested in seeing this story here? It will be posted on AO3 for sure, but some of my readers have moved on from tumblr to other places and I'd like to see how many of you are still around and willing to read my stories on tumblr these days?

What are your thoughts? Let me know! The fate of The White Raven is in your hands 💙

[gloomwitchwrites]

Can I request for the 1k event this : talking bath (naughty) with Thorin after a stressfull day

Hehe. You’re making my imagination run wild. I tried to lean toward the gender-neutral side on this one. And, because of the spiciness of the prompt, MDNI.

King Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

ao3 // taglist // 1k event masterlist // main masterlist

Thorin loves a hot bath after a stressful day. Even without a partner, Thorin can enjoy himself. The hot water is a balm, soothing his muscles and erasing his worry. It’s truly the only time he has alone. His entire life is consumed with rebuilding Erebor and taking care of his people. This is his time to do something for himself.

Now, Thorin taking a hot bath after a stressful day with his partner? Even better. It’s the appetizer before the main meal. Thorin prefers taking his bath with you whenever he can. While he takes the majority of the burden in terms of royal duties, you take on a decent chunk yourself, and taking a hot bath together at the end of the day is the thing you both need to decompress.

It always starts innocent with Thorin reclining with your back pressed against his chest. Thorin likes this position because he can hold you and has easy access to your body. Not necessarily for naughty reasons but just because he needs the intimacy of closeness. His arms are always around you, and he likes being able to keep you close. You like it as well because you can just float in the water while Thorin’s natural strength and weight keep you grounded against his body.

You are not allowed to wash yourself. Thorin enjoys doing that himself. He loves lathering up the soap and rubbing every inch of your body down before he even thinks about working on himself. Sometimes he doesn’t allow you to wash him, but when he’s feeling particularly playful, he does. It’s not submission but more of an acceptance. Thorin knows that you like to do this for him, and if he’s feeling indulgent, he’ll allow it.

During the time that the two of you scrub each other down, things can easily grow more intimate. The touches lengthen, becoming caresses. It’s always innocent at first before fingers and hands linger in certain spots, stimulating until someone gets off. Nothing about it is particularly mind blowing. Again, this is the beginning for after the bath, because afterward there is plenty that happens. This is more for fun and relaxation.

It doesn’t always happen but when it does, Thorin makes sure that you have yours first. He is entirely thoughtful about it, but doesn’t cease until he’s certain you’ve had enough. Sometimes he won’t even take anything for himself until the two of you are out of the bath and in bed.

Thorin loves to have wine or ale during this time. He might hand feed you if the two of you are hungry.

Sometimes, when the two of you are out of the bath and dried off, Thorin can’t make it to the bed and has to have you right then and there.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos @hantheconqueror

[ambitiouspotions]

KING & QUEEN | THORIN OAKENSHIELD | ONESHOT

summary — in which y/n greenhand, a hobbit, is betrothed to thorin oakenshield

word count — 2.2k

warnings — 18+ MDNI, smut

author’s note — the timeline may not be completely accurate, but it’s smut so you’re welcome.

the halls of erebor were replenished and repopulated. the mountain was how it was years before the ghastly beast, smaug's, unfortunate rule of terror and chaos. one little hobbit changed the course of history for a lineage of dwarves. although some dwarves were laid to rest after the battle of five armies, their home was reclaimed and now prosperous. the neighboring village of dale was also brought back to glory. each place was newly thriving and peaceful.

the king under the mountain, though permanently scarred and sporting a limp when walking, was healthy and more apt to appreciate life. this did not mean he lost his gruff demeanor or stubbornness, or even his sharp tongue, but maybe it stuck to him because of the loss of his nephews. thorin, three times a year, made trips to see his hobbit friend in the shire. though thorin found himself wanting to visit for a secondary reason to seeing mr. bilbo baggins. bilbo had acquired a housemaid, though she did much more than housekeeping. she tended the gardens, made all his meals, filled his smoking pipe, listened to his stories, organized his writing area, and even made good use of bilbo’s treasured artifacts by displaying them in his study room.

she was in her mid-thirties when bilbo returned on his unexpected journey; for a hobbit, she was just now considered to be an adult. she aided bilbo in placing his belongings back in his home when the other hobbits declared his death. oh, dear bilbo loved her company. she wouldn’t talk unless spoken to because she never wanted to ruin his thought process, and the moments he wanted to talk, she made wonderful and hearty conversation. the mighty and noble dwarven king could see his closed heart opening again when he visited the burglar of the company. she made tasty meals and the most comfortable sleeping arrangements. the night mr. baggins had company; she would stay the entire night to ensure everyone had what they needed. she was very attentive to her work, and maybe that was because bilbo paid her handsomely, or maybe it was because she truthfully had a passion for her work for the elder hobbit. the past ten years, not only was thorin writing to mr. baggins, but he was also corresponding with y/n greenhand, the attentive she-hobbit working for bilbo baggins.

y/n greenhand's family, in hint to their last name, grew the most gorgeous gardens in the shire. they were employed to fill every pot with their full and plentiful flowers and to spiffy the gardens of everyone without a green thumb. when y/n wasn’t with bilbo she was gardening with them. some flowers were even transported to different villages. bilbo was proud of his so-called housemaid. when he sat in front of his hobbit hole smoking his pipe, and a neighbor would greet him, he would proudly ask and proclaim, “and did you see my flowers this season? they are even more beautiful than the last. mmm yes, miss y/n planted them for me.”

thorin, on his first visit back to the shire, once his recovery was fully complete, suspected that bilbo had married, but the hobbit insisted he had no time to be attached to a particular someone. the dwarf was silently delighted to know bilbo didn’t take miss greenhand as a wife. she was well, very beautiful, and capable. capable must have been the right word. no other nonsense words would fall into thorin’s mind, well until he asked for her hand in marriage. and even that was another ten years before he stopped debating with the stubbornness inside of his aged mind. bilbo may have given thorin a push, but the dwarf would never admit to the truth behind that.

speaking of nonsense, the backstory of how thorin was stubborn is no new information. what is new information? the fact that is he a wonderful lover.

y/n laid her head back in the large wooden bathing tub, inhaling the steam that was rising from the water. she pushed a strand of loose hair that escaped her bun behind her slightly pointed ear. much like thorin, she had a full day of work at the kingdom tending to the children. even being a ruler still meant hard work, but y/n never cared much, seeing as she spent her life in the shire employed. thorin had been spending lots of his time in the mines, forging and hammering. he oversaw the production and efficiency of the dwarves. the trade of dwarven products continued to allow the kingdom to grow.

there was no knock as thorin entered, making y/n sink further into the bath water until noticing it was her beloved. her arms were crossed instinctively to cover her chest until the dwarf put his calloused hands on the edge of the tub. she ran her finger across his knuckles.

“still modest after all this time, my queen?” thorin asked, pressing his mouth to the top of her year when he spoke.

y/n gave a gentle chuckle. her hands were now pawing at his salt and peppered hair. many years ago, it wasn’t as grey as it once was, but thorin wore it gracefully. his beard was in matching fashion with the grey streaks.

“i have to leave something to mystery,” she leaned her head against his mouth, feeling a kiss being placed on her pointed ear.

“is it a mystery if i have it memorized?” he said coyly, reaching his hands into the water to move her hands away from her chest. his hands began massaging her shoulders, pushing his thumbs into any hard spots he felt to allow y/n to relax further.

y/n lifted her head and began to push herself out of the water. thorin backed up but offered his hand to help the hobbit out of the bathwater. he stared longingly at her, wanting to be greedy and consume all of her. he began pulling off his layers of cloaks and furs so he could match her splendor. his hands quickly found her waist, each of them having a bit of extra pudge from overindulging in drinks and food in celebration of their kingdom.

his rough beard rubbed across her cheek as her fingers lingered in his chest hair. he began kissing her jawline; the many times before that he had done this same action could never compare to redoing it each time they were intimate. he was breathing in her fresh scent of florals and bath milk that she had previously soaked in. occasionally, he would drag his tongue across her neck and lightly nip at it, causing y/n to bring herself closer to the dwarf.

her eyes were closed, already submitting to the king. it was easy to succumb to thorin when he had so much sex appeal. the way he moved his hands, hell, the way he stared was enough to make any woman crumble, but y/n was his lucky match. y/n grabbed his face when he continued his kisses past her shoulders. thorin understood this, immediately connecting their lips instead.

he pushed his hips against hers just to have contact with his significant other. y/n could feel thorin’s cock bulging as their kissing continued. before she knew it her back was hitting the soft furs on the bed. thorin was spreading her legs eagerly, his fingers dragging against her inner thigh as his mind was immersed in the beauty before him. y/n picked her head up excitedly, knowing the next step as she saw his fingers come closer to her heat. she bit the inside of her mouth still watching until he made eye contact.

“think i’ll do something wrong?” he questioned, spitting directly into her cunt. y/n leaned back, as though she hadn’t risen at all in the first place.

“of course not, just curious.” y/n said, her face flushing red as his fingers massaged the spit into her folds.

“curious? you don’t remember what happens next?” thorin asked, only pushing one finger inside. the hobbit swallowed her spit, not wanting to say a word. she only wanted what was next, what she knew was next.

“i seem to have forgotten.” he teased; another finger went inside. his working hands were so rough yet so delicate they knew how to please. as they moved back and forth slowly, y/n wiggled uncomfortably on the bed, wanting him to accelerate his movements. they then stopped.

“what am i supposed to do after my fingers were inside of you, darling?” thorin asked, now putting his fingers against her plump lips and asking for entrance. y/n took them in her mouth, allowing him to control the speed at which they slid back and forth. he placed his finger back against her lips to permit her to speak.

“you put your cock inside me.” y/n said. thorin was leaning over her, looking deeply into her eyes as she answered. he shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“wrong,” he stated, holding her chin tightly and going in for another kiss. y/n’s hands moved into his thick locks of hair and then to his erection. she was careful not to agitate the old, deep scar on his abdomen as she found her way to his shaft, but thorin stopped her. “what comes next?” he demanded, loosening her hair from the bun so he could later plan to grab it.

“you put your head between my legs,” she said, exhaling shakily. her mind was fuzzy only wanting her husband to get to his routine quickly so she could enjoy the pleasure he gave.

thorin gave a sly smirk, placing a single kiss on her lips and then making himself comfortable between her legs. his hands were gripping her waist, his elbows already in a position to open her legs if she were to shut them because she squirmed. he enjoyed himself each time he was feasting upon her womanhood. her wetness engulfing his taste buds and dripping down his beard was the right combination to give him satisfaction. messy good fun was had for thorin as he explored the cunt of his queen. lapping at her juices and suckling her clit to hear the moans spill from her mouth.

the moment thorin decided he was done he wiped his face on his hairy forearm and pulled her legs to his shoulders while inserting his shaft. y/n’s mouth was agape as the dwarven king entered her. that was never a feeling she would ever get used to. thorin was well endowed and knew the proper usage to send pleasure coursing through her body. y/n gripped his arms tightly as he thrust into her. filling every ounce of her being with his rock-hard erection was causing the bed to rattle as he moved. thorin was cursing under his breath about how tight the hobbit was. sweat was beading on his face as he continued to push into y/n. for a few moments, he would slow himself, his mind was begging him to press on, but his want for an orgasm was less than his need for pounding into his queen. the moment he started again, he stuffed a blanket under the small of her back; to raise her just a bit higher. he had known he had done right as the hobbit’s moans were louder and more high-pitched. as he pounded into her throbbing heat, she squirmed with a whiny moan, her juices squirting onto thorin’s lower abdomen and the sheets

he had a smirk on his face as he aided the woman in flipping over. he pushed her head into the wet sheets. y/n happily propping up her bottom for thorin to enter her open, dripping cunt again. the room began to smell sweaty as the two continued with their actions. thorin only now propped himself on his good knee for leverage, leaving the other side open for y/n to easily fall back onto his cock with every thrust.

y/n crumbled before the king, tears in her eyes as she shouted his name needily when climaxing. thorin wasn’t far behind as within a few moment he unraveled. a shockwave went through his body as he orgasmed. he threw his head back and caressed the hobbit’s plump ass that was still resting against his cock. with a deep exhale, thorin lay beside his queen and grabbed a fist full of her hair to kiss her once more. y/n did the same. they were entangled for a while, using a clean fur to cover their torsos if any member of the kingdom needed to call upon them while they were still indecent.

y/n leaned her head into the dwarven king’s chest and shut her eyes to relax, just as she was doing before in her floral milk bath. thorin inhaled her scent, now liking it more because he was mixed in with the scents of the earth.

“i could not possibly imagine having this kingdom without you,” thorin said, shutting his eyes and stroking the small of his queen’s back.

“and nor could i,” the hobbit said, kissing his pectoral and rubbing his thick dwarven chest hair again.

[luna-redamancy]

Hey cutie 🥰 I know you probably have 8000 requests rn BUT I adore you and your writing and was wondering if you would be interested in a lil Thorin x wife!reader fluff? Maybe they’re babysitting young Fili and Kili and discussing having one of their own but Thorin’s stubborn and won’t allow it until they reclaim Erebor 👀

It's been a million years- I hope you enjoy:

“And….Up!” You cheered as you scooped Fili from off the ground, swinging him up in your arms and into the air, holding him up and spinning around. Fili’s face lit up as the young dwarrow erupted into giggles, eyes shutting in glee as you spun him around the sitting room.  

“Ups!” Kili tugged on Thorin’s pant leg, no longer amused by the book that his uncle was originally reading him, now demanding to have the same fun as his brother. 

“Ups!!” The small dwarrow spoke more urgently, getting upset with the lack of quick response by Thorin. 

“Aye, aye, I heard you,” Thorin chuckled, setting the book back on the shelf before Kili was also scooped into the air, the two boys being swung around. 

“Down we go,” You spoke dramatically as you dropped your arms so Fili swung low to the ground, “And up!” You cheered, laughs coming out of you as the giggles of Fili became infectious. 

“And back to aunty!” You pulled him close to your chest, Fili clinging to your neck as you spun him close to you, hugging him against your form. After a few minutes of spinning and maneuvering the young dwarrows, you and Thorin brought the boys to the dining table.

“Lunch?” You asked them, your grin seeming permanent as Fili fought to stay in your arms, but eventually dropped his clingy behavior in favor of playing with a wooden toy sitting on the table from earlier play time. 

“‘Unch!” Kili echoed, nodding feverishly with wide eyes. 

“Pumpkin soup?”

“Umpkin-oop!” He cheered, warming your heart as you pressed a kiss to both their foreheads before exiting into the kitchen. 

. 

After lunch had ended, the boys succumbed to their drowsiness, laying on the floor together with blankies and their stuffed animals curled into their arms. 

Sitting on Thorin’s lap in the big armchair by the fireplace,  you sighed happily as Kili rolled onto his tummy and pushed his stuffed bear against his face. 

“You know,” You spoke softly as to not wake the boys, hand drifting to your belly, “Moments like these make me yearn for one of our own,” You leaned your head against Thorin’s shoulder as he absentmindedly rubbed your thigh. 

“Aye,” He agreed, feeling soft as his two nephews slumbered. “Not now, but one day,” Thorin said almost absentmindedly. 

“One day?” You sounded confused, knowing the two of you were in your prime now. Truly, if you had it your way the two of you would already have had a child. Already being married for over two years. 

“I wish for my child to grow up in the same halls I did,” Thorin spoke simply, imagining his own little dwarrow babe crawling on the smooth stone floors, growing into a young adult shadowing him to take over the throne one day. 

“Thorin,” You sighed, already have argued many times over trying to reclaim Erebor, especially after seeing his grief of losing his family during the attempted reclamation of Moria. 

“Âzyungel,” Thorin replied, ever the stubborn one as he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Our lives in the Blue Mountains are temporary, I do not want to uplift our child’s sense of stability half-way into their upbringing and thrust them into something foreign,” Thorin reaffirmed his reasoning. 

Sighing through your nose, you nodded, leaving Thorin’s lap in favor of going to Kili, adjusting the blanket over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

“Lukhudel, please do not be upset,” Thorin could read you like a book as you moved to collect the toys up and put them back in their respective places. 

“I’m not upset,” You whispered to him over your shoulder, freezing in your movement when you heard Fili shuffle to settle into a similar position like his brother. 

“I’m just disappointed, there’s a difference.” You murmured, knowing if Thorin had his mind set on something, not even Mahal could change his mind.

Tags:

Please note, tags in bold are blogs that cannot be tagged either due to blog visibility settings set to not visible or because your username has changed. If it has changed, please comment, send in an ask, or private message me for it to be updated. 

Forever Tag

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @ladylouoflothlorien​ @ten-tenya-iida ​​ @legolaslovely​ @bthtallmadge2​ @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf​ @aspookybunny @keijibum @moony-artnstuff @sirkekselord @guardianofrivendell @fluffymadamina @izbelross @fandomhoe101 @acahope311 @kitkatd7 @mooseetx @themerriweathermage @elvish-sky @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @laurfilijames @frequentlychangingfandoms @cameronsails @linasofia @starryeyedrogue  @shethereadinghobbit @beenovel @onlystarshere @fckmini @spidergirla5 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @myselfandfantasy @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @broken-ghost @mbruben-stein @mrsdurin @hai-kbai

Thorin-

 @greennightspider @ashleygrrrl @skylarkvip @makeshift-prime  @jumpingmanatee @meraki--mei @theelvenvalkyrie @dabisburntnut  @queenofmankind @elvish-sky

[elvenlia]

❗️❗️ I took inspiration for this story from the "Do you love me." Scene in Bridgerton.❗️❗️

Please enjoy 💜

-----

When Athelia imaged regaining the lonely mountain back with the company, she imaged it to be a joyous moment. And it was, at first...

She had heard the tales of Thorin's father and grandfather succumbing to the dragon's sickness within the walls of the mountain. How it drove them mad, to the brink of insanity and made them unrecognizable to their kin. He had expressed to her how he never wanted to succumb to the same fate, she had comforted him and told him how he was far to strong and stubborn of a man for that fate to take him so easily.

She believed it too, she believed her words. The man she had come to love was strong willed, hard headed and set in his ways. She would have never imagined he'd sway even in the slightest if it wasn't something he wanted.

Oh how wrong was she...

The days seemed to grow longer within the mountain. Or maybe it was she who grew down in spirits and caused the days to drag on. Or possibly her beloved insistent pacing and deep grumbling in the throne room which she was forced to endure.

Thorin had gone mad. Wide eyed and wire haired, as soon as he placed the crown atop his head and deemed himself the king under the mountain. She grown to despise the man under the crown, she hated his cruel words and foul behavior. Even more so, she hated how he had been treating his friends, no, family. All that made the long gruesome journey with him, he treated them as it they were nothing but dirt under his feet. Locking them all within the mountain, no one enters and no one leaves.

But on the rare occasion, she'd see him. She'd see Thorin, her beloved, just by the look that dwelled deep within his eyes.

And oh, did she love him so...

It wasn't strange for Athelia to have found Thorin stowed away amongst the gold and treasures. Though on this particular evening, she had noticed the tears welling within his eyes and the stern expression on his face as he glared down at the gold. As if he was battling a whole hoard of demons on his own. Slowly, Athelia approached him, leaving some distant in between.

"Thorin - " She called out to him, breaking him of his trance and pulling his attention to her.

"Athelia..." He breathed and for a moment she thought he was going to come to her and embrace her in his arms. He did not, instead he gave her a hard glare.

"You should not be near, Athelia, it is not safe for you." His words were harsh on her ears, she instantly shook her head.

"Thorin, I will not go, I love you- "

"I have gone mad, Athelia, can't you see?!" He had cut her words off with his own, his eyes blown wide, crazed, as he spoke. His voice booming off the gold and precious gems.

Athelia's own gaze now narrowed, her shoulders set back as she took a few steps closer to him. She was never one to back down, always to brave for her own good.

"Do you love me?" She suddenly asked, leaving Thorin breathless and frozen. Even though he had never spoke it aloud, she knew he did, she could feel it within her soul.

His tears now ran freely down his reddened cheeks, his expression turning into dispare as he stared at her. His fist clenched at the fabric covering his chest.

"I am not in my right mind, I know you see it- please -" He was practically begging her. "Take your leave with the hobbit - you are not safe here with me. "

"No, Thorin, I will not leave." She stood her ground, her expression stern and unmoving.

"You must! " His voice echoed against the stone walls. " My mind is fleeing my grasp, I cannot tell you whether I am here nor there, I do not know where the earth ends and the heavens begin - "

" Thorin!" She cut his words short, taking a step closer to him once again, pointing to herself. "I will stand with you between the heavens and the earth, I will tell you where you are!" Her voice raised each time she stepped closer until finally she stopped.

"Do. You. Love. Me."

He heaved a sob as more tears poured from the depths of his ocean eyes. "Yes, I -" His words choked him as he stuttered. "From the first time that I saw you entering the hobbits home-" another sob left his throat. " I have loved you desperately, I cannot breath when you are not near."

She closed the distance between them, her own tears now shedding and trailing down the flushed skin of her cheeks.

"I love you, Athelia. My heart calls your name..." Thorin finished, another sob racking his body as Athelia took him into her arms.

"We will get through this, together. You are not alone, Thorin." She whispered softly to him, as she cupped his cheeks and held his face so she could see him, truly see him for the first time in far to long.

The man that stood before her now was not the King under the mountain, but Thorin oakenshield. Her Thorin, her beloved dwarf.

Oh, how she loved him so...

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

The Best of Intentions — snippet #3- character development- confrontations/ misunderstandings- continued -

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

She held her head high as she walked down from the royal suites, keeping her eyes transfixed ahead. She tried not to think too long or hard on who and what she was about to leave behind. She knew Rosalyn was going to be devastated, but she didn’t think she could bring herself to actually leave if she stopped to say her goodbyes.

She only hoped that Dis and Rosalyn would continue to be friends, and that she would find happiness with Dwalin if he ever worked up the courage to court her.

 She felt on edge as she drew closer to the main gates. She knew she drew attention to herself dressed in her Frost drake armor, Luna keeping stride at her side. She knew she was free to leave, unless Thorin wanted to make her pay for her the role she played in the disruption of his sparring session.

 She hoped he didn’t. That he would just let her go, like she asked for him to when he held her close to him that last time.

 Her heart and chest felt like it was bruised purple with the blows she had taken in the matter of just an hour. Each twist of her stomach or stutter of her heart made her body ache, so much more than she had ever felt before. Even with the sudden passing of Argos. That had hurt her, changed her no doubt.

But this betrayal, this death of a dream she had slowly been coming around to envisioning for herself, a happiness she never thought she would ever find for herself, was excruciating. She felt the bruising far beyond her heart, she felt it in the very marrow of her bones.

 

As she approached the gate, she saw the normal guards on duty. Nothing seemed amiss, no one was yelling for her name or telling her to halt. She was both relieved and disappointed at the realization she would be able to walk out freely, with no reason to stop and look back.

She drew her shoulders back tighter as she walked towards the guards with a cool confidence.

 

It was at the very last moment that their axes crossed down in front of her and Luna, their faces as rigid and emotionless as stone.  She breathed in sharply, her heart stopping in dread.

 “Let me pass.” She tilted her chin challengingly as she stared down the guard closest to her unblinkingly.

 “You are not permitted to leave without an escort my Lady.” The guard stated sternly. He didn’t even seem phased as Luna stood over Mistlynn’s shoulder, her tongue lolling in the summer heat so that her sharp canines were on full display.

 “On whose authority?” she demanded coldly, hoping against all odds it wasn’t who she thought it was.

 “Mine.” A deep voice rumbled from the left of them, in the shadowed guard room she hadn’t even noticed right under the top turret.  Her stomach twisted painfully, an invisible fist squeezing her lungs as she allowed her eyes to flutter closed for a brief moment. She heard the familiar, heavy footsteps approach, causing a faint curse to hiss out under her breath. She steeled herself as she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.

 

She was surprised to see him dressed so casually, as if he had changed from his sparring gear in a hurry. He was in black trousers and boots with a blue tunic that was so dark it nearly looked black until the sunlight gave away its true depth of color. His black jacket was unbuttoned, allowing her to see the full details that were engraved on the silver buckles and designs on his black leather belt.

 She swallowed nervously, forcing her eyes back up to his face after her quick perusal of his unusual attire. She had never seen him so disheveled. She felt a stab of guilt twist and meld into her already aching chest. She then reminded herself of Briela’s courting necklace, and who it was who was courting her. The reminder did nothing.

 “Are you keeping me against my will? Throwing me in the dungeons?” She fought to keep her voice steady as she arched an eyebrow in challenge.

 His lips quirked up into a smirk, although the storm raging in his eyes spoke of a different emotion he was fighting to contain. It rattled her, and for the first time since she met him, she felt a sliver of fear lance through her.

 Maybe this time she pushed him too far.

 

He looked over her head and gestured with a head tilt, giving someone a silent command he had planned out before her arrival. She turned her head quickly to see who he was gesturing too, and saw Fili and Kili walking towards them, their faces serious.

They approached Luna, greeting only her with smiles. Fili pulled out some jerky from his jacket pocket and fed an eager Luna, who was unconcerned with the current turn of events.

 She felt her jaw drop in outrage as she watched Luna’s tail begin to wag as Fili and Kili began to lead her away.

 “Wait one moment! Where are you taking her?” Mistlynn demanded.

 “Back to your room.” Kili shot back over his shoulder as Fili looked back at her before shrugging as he scratched underneath Luna’s ears while feeding her more jerky.

 “Traitor.” Mistlynn grumbled, still shocked that Luna left her side with not even a whine or whimper.

She turned back to face Thorin, only to see that Dwalin was now standing alongside him, with a look on his face that would make any seasoned warrior tremble under that scowl.

 She felt her anger spike as it began to sink in what had just occurred. “You can’t do this. You can’t stop me from leaving.” She hissed.

“Funny. I just did.” Thorin grinned tauntingly at her. “Imagine my surprise when Kili told me you were running away. They caught you right before you were about to walk out your door. Fully packed. With no intentions of telling anyone.”

 Dwalin scoffed as he shook his head. “Abysmal manners, that.” He stated gruffly.

 “I’ve outstayed my welcome.” Mistlynn bit out, her rising temper making her voice shake as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides.

 “I don’t recall telling you that.” Thorin raised a brow, unimpressed with her reasoning.

 “Considering what has occurred, I figured it was a given consensus.” She shot back, her cheeks now a lovely shade of crimson.

 “She’s still all fired up. “Dwalin observed to Thorin directly, uncaring that Mistlynn was shooting him a murderous glare. 

 “SHE is not amused.” Mistlynn hissed.

 The burly Captain began to chuckle as he waggled his eyebrows at Thorin. “Aye, SHE may not be, But I certainly am. And ye want me in a good mood.”

He gave Mistlynn a pointed look as he gestured towards her swords and bow. “I think it would be wise to let me take those off your hands in the meantime.”

 “You want me to surrender my weapons now?” She scoffed as she fought to hide the panic that was threatening to seize ahold of her.

“No, not seize. Just for safe keeping while you two have your talk.” Dwalin reiterated. The fingers in his outstretched hand wiggled, as if trying to coax her in handing them over without making a scene. “Dont make me take them by force Lass.”

 Mistlynn’s molars ground together painfully as she took a moment to observe that they were beginning to attract an audience. Thorin didn’t seemed bothered in the least, his eyes solely on her as he waited for her to yield her weapons to Dwalin. She scanned the gathering, curious crowd before turning her head to look at the guards, who were watching her closely.

 She breathed shakily through her nose as she trembled with embarrassment and anger. She tilted her head back haughtily as she glared at Thorin, the golden flecks in her green eyes alight like drops of the sun. “I hate you.” She hissed as she ripped her bow over her head and practically threw it at Dwalin, who caught it unphased by her outburst.

 “Now the swords, lass.”

Thorin’s brow raised at her venomous words. The muscle in his jaw ticked as returned her glare unflinchingly. “The swords, Mistlynn.” He growled.

 He watched her nostrils flare as she breathed in deeply at his command. Her jaw was set stubbornly as she reached behind her pulled her swords free from their sheaths, not once breaking eye contact with him. She held them out to Dwalin for him to take, her lips twisting into a scowl as she heard the Captain chuckle as he took her swords from her grasp.

 “May Aule preserve your jewels.” Dwalin clapped his free hand on Thorin’s shoulder before shaking his head in amusement before walking away.

 “I fail to see why this is so humorous for all of your men.” Mistlynn clicked her tongue behind her front teeth as she shot daggers at Dwalin’s retreating back.

 “Do you see me laughing?” Thorin grit his teeth into a sarcastic smile. He took a step closer to her, so that she was forced to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Are you going to come with me willingly? Or are you going to fight me?”

 “Do I have any other choice?” she spat, eyes flashing with a gut-wrenching fear mixed with anger.

 “Either you follow me, or I throw you over my shoulder.” The taunting threat made his lips upturn into a dangerous grin, prompting his one dimple to show. He watched her body shake in fury as she caught sight of it.

 He knew her answer before she could even spit it at him.

 “I’m going nowhere with you. I demand you let me leave. NOW. I am NOT your PLAYTHING, Your Royal Highness.” She seethed, eyes flashing ocher against the vivid green, bright with rapidly gathering tears. She was burning from the inside out.

 And he was done watching her burn alive with the self-destruction.

 “Very well. Do not say I didn’t give you a more dignified option.”

 She scowled briefly in confusion before her eyes grew wide in shock as he lurched forward, wrapping a strong arm behind her thighs before lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. She gasped loudly as her stomach contacted against his broad shoulder.

 He turned quickly on his heel and began stalking towards the room that he had been standing concealed in the doorway.

 “Let me down! This instant! Y-You…You brute!” She shrieked as she tried to kick her feet, her fists hitting him on his back.

 He didn’t even flinch as he walked, the only indication that he acknowledged her struggling was how his arm flexed tighter against the back of her thighs. Her breath stuttered in her chest as she squirmed.

 

He kicked the door open with a bang as he trudged in, quickly kicking it closed behind him. The door rattled loudly as it slammed shut.

 She hit his back again with a renewed fury. “LET ME GO!” she shrieked.  

 He crossed the room quickly than came to an abrupt stop. She felt him lean forward as the sound of shattering pottery, clashing metal, and rustling paper filled the room. Her heart was now beating rapidly in her chest as she continued to struggle in vain against his grip.

A surprised cry left her as she felt him lift her up off his shoulder and deposited her directly on top of some sort of desk.

 She blinked in surprise as her chest heaved. He stepped up, closing her in with his arms and chest. His right hand wrapped around her back, grasping the base of her skull with his fingers tangled into the strands of her loose braid.

She gasped as she was forced to look up at him, his grasp firm as his arm became an unyielding support against her back.

A pleasurable burn from her scalp made her pant at the onslaught of emotions that raced through her. Fear, outrage, attraction intermingled with lust. Her heart raced with it all as she was forced to look up into his stormy gaze as his eyes roved her face. “Are you quite finished? Or shall I let you get a few more punches out?” he ground out.

 “You're a foul bastard.” She huffed as she fought to get her breathing under control as her blood ran hot under her feverish skin.

 “I get a trifle cranky when I have been accosted repeatedly by a dam I was under the impression I had an understanding with. “

 “Must be a rather common occurrence with you, dealing so adeptly with your upset toys.”

 Mistlynn’s throbbing heart fluttered as his eyes narrowed at her words. He pulled her closer to him so that at their faces were mere inches apart.

 “There it is again. Toy.” He tsked. “Interesting choice of words.”  He tilted his head slightly as he scanned her face. She knew he could feel her trembling as she fought to not let his closeness melt away her anger. She cursed her female heart, afraid that it was about to betray her once more.

 “Are you going to tell me what happened?” He breathed, his voice surprisingly steady.

 She shook her head as much as she could with his hand still holding the back of her head.  He chuckled darkly at the movement, as if he couldn’t help his amusement despite the situation.

 “My savage M’eudail.” He whispered, his tone turning reverent, making her breath hitch as she blinked at him, shocked at the change.

 “Dori came to me, right after you left me in that sparring ring. He told me about Lady Briela and what she told you. He told me EVERYTHING.”

He watched her closely as her chest stop moving as she held her breath, her throat bobbing as her eyes grew wide at his words.

“Now, I want you to listen to me. And to actually put that temper of yours to rest and HEAR me.” His gaze burned her with its intensity. “Can you do that for me?”

 She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling as she felt her eyes began to burn once more. She nodded again.

 He let out a heavy sigh as the grip of his hand relented its hold on her neck. He cupped the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing against the soft skin of her jawbone.

 “I am sorry she said those things to you. Every single thing that left that viper’s mouth was a LIE.”  He watched her blink rapidly.

 “First of all. I did not give her that accursed necklace. It was a form of payment I gave her Adad for his services to Erebor. I offered to pay him with gold or any of the jewels in the treasury.” He paused to studying her reaction before continuing.

“I LOATHE gold.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “I would never give my One any piece of that accursed dragons gold. No matter how much Gandalf cleansed it, the blood of my family and my people slain by that bloody firedrake has been soaked into every accursed piece of my Gamul’Adad treasure hoard. He valued it above all else, including his family. His People. I refuse to touch it.”

 Mistlynn’s eyes widened at the intensity of abhorrence in his words. She had never seen him, or any of the Durin family wear gold. She didn’t think anything of it until that very moment. He never wore jewelry, except for his hair beads, ear cuff and his signet rings.

 “W-why would she lie about that?” Her question was shaky and hushed. She felt his thumb pause its movement against her cheekbone.

 A muscle in his jaw ticked as he looked at her. “She must of heard that I was going to give you YOUR courting gift in a few days’ time. I have several of my men helping me work on it as we speak. It’s not a secret to anyone what it is. Briela and her family have been scheming for years to try to force my hand into a marriage contract with her. “

 Her stomach plummeted as she stared at him in shock. The butterflies that had been haunting her for months sprang to life once more, swirling like a whirlwind within her at his blatant declaration.

 “Your gift is not a necklace, or anything like that.” He continued. “I know we spoke about taking this slow, but I am afraid the meddling nobles in this kingdom are forcing my hand quicker than I would like. I am not very good at hiding what you are to me, and they are preying on that.” He grumbled the last part, his tone a little self-depreciating as he studied her face closely.

 “T-Thorin, I-I…” she stammered, fear prickling across her limbs as the weight of his words hit her.

 “You are MINE, M’eudail. You are the other half of my soul, made for me by Mahal himself. And I am YOURS. You are the only one for me, there will never be anyone else. We can no longer deny that. I know you feel it. You would not have attacked me if it were otherwise.” He brought his forehead to rest against hers. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt both his hands cup her wet cheeks. She gasped at his tender touch, his thumbs rubbing away the trails of her tears from her cheeks. 

“I dont want to fight it anymore.” He murmured, his breath tickling her face.

 “I am scared.” She breathed, her voice choked as her vulnerability glistened in her eyes.

 “That is ok.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “Because you terrify me like no one else ever has M’eudail.”

 “There is still so much you dont know about me. We-We can’t…” she was silenced as he brought his hand down to her chin, lifting it up so that he could take her lips with his. She gasped into the kiss, a sound somewhere between pain and relief escaping her as she gave in to him, eyes fluttering closed, releasing the captured tears on her lashes to cascade down her cheeks to splatter on his fingers.  Her hands grasped onto his jacket in desperation, holding onto him as if her life depended on it.

 She felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, prompting her to open her legs so that he could step in between them. He could feel her heart racing by the way her pulse beat rapidly against the palm of his hand as he cradled her head. He pulled back from her slightly. “Do you still hate me?” he whispered with a faint chuckle against her lips.

 She groaned. She could feel the way his lips curved up, teasing her lips with his. She brought a hand up from his coat to reach around his neck so that her hand could delve into his thick dark mane.

“It would be easier if I did.” She forced her eyes to open, so that she could return his gaze. “I wanted you to feel some of the pain I was feeling.”

Thorin kissed the corner of her mouth before placing another kiss on her jaw as he sighed. “I’ll hold her accountable for this.”

 Mistlynn pulled her head back farther, putting space between them. “Please. Don’t.”  she pleaded. “It will only show them I can’t handle anything on my own. I should have spoken with you instead of reacting the way I did.” She swallowed thickly. “I did not handle it well…”

 “I suppose I can forgive you this once.” Thorin gave her a soft smile as he pulled her back towards him, making her giggle before pulled her into another kiss.

She sighed against his lips, allowing him to soothe all the aches and cracks that had been threatening to rip her to shreds just mere moments before. She let herself go, pushing her fear to the side, allowing herself to feel every little sensation he summoned in that moment that was just theirs. He was breathing life into her, and that anger, that darkness that always seemed to lurk deep within her like a starving predator was chased away by every touch of his hand, every caress of his lips against hers as they kissed languidly.

 

This kiss was different from their first. She could feel it from the tips of her fingers to her toes. And for the first time since she could remember that hollow void of darkness within was absent. He had filled it, and she hadn’t realized that until she thought he had been taken from her, just as her Amad and Argos had been taken. Swiftly. Suddenly. Without any warning.

 She pulled back as that thought came to her. She bit her bottom lip again as she tried take a deep breath. “I-I lose all sense of myself when I’m with you. I can’t think straight.”

 “Do you expect me to apologize for that? Because I’m not.” He chuckled warmly. “You take up every waking moment of my day, and every dream I’ve had since the moment I looked into your eyes.”

 Mistlynn’s mouth twisted up into a shy smile. “I couldn’t escape you either.” She whispered. “You have made me question everything I thought I knew. And that is …terrifying.”

 “I do not want you to be frightened of this Mistlynn.” His baritone voice was soothing. She savored the feeling of his calloused thumb tracing the soft skin under her jaw and ear. But it was all happening so fast, so much had changed in just the time span of a week.

 “I just need a little more time. Can we keep this to ourselves for just a little while longer?” her voice shook with nervousness. “I…I made a fool of myself today. I need to get my emotions in check before we can pursue this any further.”

 

His answering sigh was heavy with disappointment. But he didn’t remove his hand from her jaw or his arm that was still wrapped behind her. “You dont need to worry about what others think of your reaction. It was a very grievous thing Briela accused me of.” A flash of anger colored his eyes. “Why would you think I would choose her over you? Especially after last night?”

 Her stomach recoiled in discomfort. She didn’t want to revisit that feeling. But it was a feeling that was far from her thoughts. The idea that she wasn’t good enough. She never had been, not even for her own Adad. It was her turn to sigh. “She is beautiful, smart, and graceful. As every Queen should be. I am neither of those things.” She gestured down at her armor. “I’ve never been a fine lady. I am a warrior. Trained since I was young to take orders and follow them without question. I’ve never owned a dress, let alone fine slippers. Or worn makeup, unless its kohl.”

She allowed her eyes to cast downward, fixated on the leather trousers that covered her thighs. “I will only embarrass you, and your people, Thorin.”

The room grew silent and still. The only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat and his steady breathing. She forced herself to look back up at him. He was staring at her with a determined glint shining in his eyes. “She may be all that you say she is, in theory. But she is as shallow as a puddle. She would make for a very cruel and vain Queen.”

 Her heart felt like it was beating at the very base of her throat as his reverent words consumed her. “You are exquisite, in every sense that truly matters and more. You have the heart and soul of a magnificent Queen. You are kind, loyal, and selfless. You think of others and do not put yourself above anyone, even when you were born to shine brighter than the those stars you love so much.”  

He leaned down, placing a tender kiss to her forehead before continuing. “Even if you were not my One, I would choose you over her. Every. Time.“ His lips twisted into a playful smile as he pulled back to make eye contact with her again. “Try talking to me next time? Before you try removing my head from my body?”

 Mistlynn snorted. “You jest. You swatted my blows away like I was an annoying little gnat.”

 Thorin couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him. “Mahal Mist.” He shook his head as he chuckled. “That is not even close to what came to mind when I was fighting you off.” He nudged her forehead with his. “Stop belittling yourself every chance you get.”  He raised an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to challenge him.

 She seemed at a loss for words as she stared at him.

 “What is it?”

 “N-nothing. I just thought you would be more upset with what I did.”

 “No. What upsets me is that you tried to run from me. I would rather you try to challenge and fight me than run away.”  He leaned down, stealing another kiss from her before pulling back. “Promise me you won’t run away again.”

 She swallowed thickly before nodding. “Okay.”

 Thorin straightened to his full height as he forced himself to pull away from her. She swallowed thickly as the cool air around her settled in from the absence of his body against hers, making her shiver slightly as she blinked rapidly in attempt to pull herself out of the daze he put her in with his soul consuming kisses.  

 “I shall do as you ask. I’ll let you have the next few days to sort through your … thoughts before I give you your courting gift. At the night of the ball I will announce to Erebor that you are my One, and that our courtship has officially begun. My cousin Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, is coming with his family. It will be the perfect time to announce it.”

 She gulped as her eyes grew wide. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his words. He was telling her all of this as if was already engraved in stone.

 He raised a dark brow as he looked at her expectantly. “Do you agree to this?”

She nodded mutely. She was warring with herself, but she was also tired of this internal fight. Now was the time to make her choice and stick with it.

 A short breath escaped him as he allowed a smile to appear on his lips. He was relieved. “I would like to hear you consent with actual words. Do you accept my courtship?”

 “Y-Yes, Thorin. I accept your courtship.” She breathed as her heart felt like it was hammering at the base of her throat. Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk.

 She wouldn’t run. She promised him.

 His smile brightened as he nodded. “Very well. I will see you in a couple days.” He turned towards the door to leave.

 “Wait! What about my bow and my swords?” She called out, suddenly remembering the fact that Dwalin still had her weapons. Her eyes became wide in surprise as she watched his shoulders begin to shake. When he turned to look back at her, she couldn’t help the flare of irritation that ran through her when she realized he was actually laughing at her.

 He was actually laughing. He sighed contentedly as he shot her a mischievous grin. “You're going to have to talk to Dwalin about that.”  

 Mistlynn felt her jaw drop as she stared at him. “Excuse me? He said he wasn’t seizing them!”

 Thorin shrugged nonchalantly. “He is the Captain of my Guard. And you did engage in sparring with me without warning. So, he is just doing his job. I’m sure he will give them back to you once you ask him … nicely.”

 “You’ve got to be joking.” She scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You said you forgave me for that.”

 Thorin grinned wolfishly at her as he began to chuckle again. “I forgave you. Doesn’t mean anyone else has. You haven’t asked for their forgiveness yet.” His hand grabbed the doorhandle and pulled it ajar. “So, I would get started if I were you.”

 Mistlynn grumbled under her breath as she glared at him. He dared to shoot her a wink, making her ire flare even more as her stomach fluttered at it. He stepped out of the door and shut it behind him, leaving her alone in the empty room as her thoughts began to scream at her

*unedited and unbeta’d-

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

Taglist:

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

My apologies if I forgot anyone else who wanted to be tagged. Let me know if you want to be added and I’ll update my list ❤️ thank you all for your support on this crazy journey of mine.