#Thorinxoc

[mysticalendings]

I've been hesitating to post this, but here it goes.

This is one of many character sheets for a story i am working on, Reclaiming a Home. It's a ThorinxOC story based on the hobbit movies because I can not live on knowing that the boys are gone. Heck no, but this is why we write fanfiction. Give him lots of love. More to come soon.

[gwen-ever]

Deathless (2/3)

Deathless

Fic for the @tolkienrsb event 2021.

Author:gwen-ever (tumblr) gwen-ever (ao3)

Artist: Lathalea (tumblr)Lathalea (ao3)

Fic Rating: M

Warning:  Reincarnation - Angst - References to Illness

Relationships: ThorinxOc - DurinxOc - DurinVIIxOc

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield - Original Female Character - Durin the Deathless - Durin VII - Aule - Yavanna - Balin

Word count: 24458

Artwork rating: G

Artwork Link: Khazad-dûm Reclaimed.

Durin went over in his head every single market street he had walked the day before, taking in every intersection or tunnel that seemed familiar. His sense of direction was never fooled, even though the streets in the lower levels of the mountain were so different at night than they were during the day.

The hustle and bustle of the day before had vanished, the golden light that fluttered on the grey stone replaced by a weaker light from the few lit lanterns and the light coming from the windows of the houses set in the stone.

From time to time the sound of his heavy footsteps on the marble floor was interrupted by some distant laughter that echoed over and over again to his ears. He looked around alarmed that the palace had noticed his absence, but he had to sigh with relief every time, he was never the cause of the commotion that night.

As he walked there were no bows, greetings or reverences of any kind, everyone continued on their way ignoring his presence or true identity. It certainly wasn't difficult for anyone to assume, given his soot and coal stained clothes, that he was just a blacksmith returning home after a long day's work in the forges and that was partly the truth.

The shops were almost all closed, few dwarves came out of them and many of them were the owners busily barring the doors and windows carved into the stone: he hoped Ylva was doing the same. He hoped he had left the forges too late and that she was still busy among her tools and cloth and still criticising the faded labels in her shop.

He cast a glance towards the blue armguards he wore, smiling to himself as one of the pink stones glinted under the light of a torch: he had kept his word at last, though, he was coming back, though certainly not in the way she would have thought he would.

A part of him had been begging him all day to drop everything and go down to the markets to see her, to hear her voice, to pay her back, while his more controlled part kept him seated at council meetings, then mine inspections, then forges.

By the time he had finished his duties, however, nothing had stopped him from leaving the forges and walking over there. Ylva was coming back to him like the sweetest wine he had ever tasted, and in all probability it was the wine that was now guiding his steps to reach her.

He turned his head and walked into the corridors of the market, going deeper and deeper. He turned a corner towards the artisans' area and amidst the bluish half-light, a bright light in a window caught his attention and as fate would have it, it was the only light he wanted to see lit: she was indeed still in his shop.

Durin quickened his pace as he approached the window of the small shop, already anticipating the vision of the dwarf-woman busy behind it, but as he approached it, he immediately realised that the light he was seeing was nothing more than the flame of a forgotten candle lit at the back of the shop.

He clenched his jaw, trying to overcome his sense of disappointment: perhaps she was still inside and he had not noticed her yet. He cupped his hands and peered into the shop and to his disappointment his suspicions were true: she was already gone, he had come down too late. She was not standing on a stool arranging the boxes of gems that still lay stacked on top of each other, she was not scrubbing the dirty floor with pieces of cloth, nor was she sorting out the mountain of small sketches lying on top of the counter or in the back room near the unlit forge. With a sigh, he sat down on the front step of the shop, wearily running his hands over his face: what was wrong with him? What was he planning to do? To come all the way down there, to the markets without informing anyone, without leaving a missive, to do what? Chasing a craftswoman, chasing a feeling due to his overtiredness and increasingly confused dreams.

His Father would have laughed at him, his grandFather would have taken him for a fool or would have offered him a couple of rounds of pints to remind him that impulsive actions  had never been his forte.

And he would have been right.

He'd never acted like that, never had the reason, and yet the thought of her kept coming back to him. What he had felt as soon as he had seen her was nothing he had ever felt before in his life, or in his lives for that matter. He'd already seen her, he'd touched her, she'd kissed him, he'd already smelled her, and she'd already wrapped those arm guards around his arms.

What he had felt the day before was a fictitious memory, he knew, she could not have been alive back then, she could not have been part of his past, and yet she was the truest and most real memory he had ever seen unfold before his eyes.

Yet he knew her, he had seen her before, but it could not be so, it could not, it was not possible.

His temples ached and he brought two fingers to them and began to press, trying to calm his nerves, to calm those doubts and stupid riddles he was asking himself. He had to calm down, regain his senses and stop that boyish madness and return to the palace. It would have passed, just as everything had always passed him by.

He was about to stand up, but in doing so he gave a little kick to a piece of an old broken mug, making it roll straight into the middle of the street.

That simple gesture stopped him instantly, a sentence she said came back to his mind and a doubt, or more a hope, came forward in his chest. It was a ridiculous sentence, taken out of context, but it began to dig into his mind like a woodworm until his brain bled.

Perhaps he knew where to find her.

He threw his convictions to the wind, what he had been telling himself for many minutes. With a push he got up from the cold step and started walking again along the immense tunnels of the market, passing every closed shop he came across.

He turned left and right trying to cross paths with the building he was interested in, but the more he walked the more there was no sign of it: she was right on one point, he was not from there. He arrived at the central market square, now emptied of every stall he would usually find there. The huge marble statue of the Royal Battle Ram reigned supreme in the middle of it, welcoming every passer-by, including him, and it was behind it that Durin finally found what he was looking for.

With great strides he approached the entrance to the central inn of the market, passing the small group of dwarves who, shakily, were coming out of it, holding each other's arms. From inside came shouts, songs, music and a bright orange light that made his eyes squint as Durin came through the doorway, cutting his breathing.

The main tavern was filled with a life and warmth that Durin thought the forges located several levels beneath their feet looked like an icy, inhospitable wasteland in comparison.

The music of the violins and flutes rang out loud, echoing throughout the tavern, barely able to overcome the high-pitched laughter or deep cackles that came from every single table. He heard footsteps on the floor, the clatter of metal cutlery banging against each other, the cheerful shrieks of a few little dwarves chasing each other around the tables, hiding under them for a few moments before being discovered. A sea of colourful fabrics moved from side to side, carrying barrels full of beer, tray after tray of every kind of food imaginable.

Around the tables dozens and dozens of dwarves clutched each other in long embraces as they sang stories, shouted ancient names and legends, while others ducked to dodge pieces of food being thrown across the room.

Cautiously, always hoping not to be recognised, Durin stepped forward in turn through the hubbub, dodging and ducking into every cove the tables or groups of warriors and smiths created to chat, searching his eyes for why he was there, scrutinising every single face.

He searched for a hank of fire-red hair, tried to hear her crystal-clear voice, even tried to inhale the air to smell her again, but the further he went between the tables, the more his hope of finding Ylva became a dream.

Suddenly, in the midst of the noise and laughter, an ethereal voice rose above all the others, attracting his attention and, if that was the case, that of a good part of the room as well. There, in the middle of the wooden tables, on top of one of them, he saw her: she was moving her feet from one side to the other in time with the music, dancing holding the arm of another dwarf who was singing a traditional song of the Blue Mountains out loud, holding a full mug of beer in his hand.

Durin watched her wide-eyed as she danced, the red dress she wore that evening moving in every crazy motion in which the dwarf next to her pushed her, as she spun around the table in pirouettes or small jumps at every high-pitched sound she had to make, the let go with her neck back singing.

The dwarves around the table clapped their hands and feet in time to the music, slammed their mugs down on the table and shouted at every higher word, watching the little scene as he did, but Durin did not join in. He watched her in silence, as if hypnotised. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and every time she returned a higher note, or laughed, or pirouetted on herself as she sang, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

His throat suddenly went dry as he watched her, as he watched how the dwarf held her waist, making her move from side to side, and unconsciously he felt a discomfort rise up to his neck.

He exhaled, letting his back go against the wooden pillar behind him, letting his blue gaze drift over her body, and the dress she wore, to the small but precious patches of white skin she showed with every movement, to the smile that marked her face, to the thick, unruly red hair that swayed from side to side making her golden beads flap in her braids: he would never have admitted it out loud, not at that moment but she was beautiful, too beautiful.

A smell of blueberries and wild flowers entered his nostrils again, invisible hands touched his face, ran their fingers along his thick beard, a pair of lips rested on his and a soft breast rested on his chest and the roar, Ylva's voice, was no longer loud, it was low, it was close to his ear, and then close to his neck and then mixed with his breath.

An immense grip on his heart forced him to let go with his head back, panting and shaken. A second one made him clench his jaw and close his fists in a spasm. His vision suddenly blurred as the sounds around him gradually became muffled until they disappeared completely, as did the taverns and the shouting, and the laughter and Ylva's voice.

Sparkling diamonds shone through the blue marble walls. Golden veins, like tree roots, dug into the stone, embracing and supporting their wide, endless relatives. A cloudless starry sky, infinite and eternal shone underground, so high and mighty are the halls in which they stand. Rain, wind, bad weather were only a vague thought in that place without time or memory, where one minute is a hundred lives and a hundred lives a minute, where day and night alternate like the flames burning in the middle of the large circular room.

Though the world grows darker every day

And hope seems all but a memory

An angelic voice rang out, lulling him to sleep, making him close his eyes and taking him back into the world that had been built for them. Sweat still covered his body, his muscles tensed under his skin, not being calmed by the gentle caresses of the pale, soft hands that caressed his skin, face, mouth, wiping away with a wet cloth every sign of the work he had dedicated himself to as he had been ordered to do hours before.

Nothing can dim or extinguish this flame

Ignited long ago deep within me

No-one can break my will, nothing can change

My path is laid before me

Her hands trembled with every caress, for every smear of soot she removed from his face her touch grew weaker, as if that simple gesture cost her all the strength she had in her body.

He would have liked to grab them, to block her, to beg her to stop, but he couldn't: she continued to take care of him, without ceasing to smile, even though Durin's breathing became heavier with every movement, as well as his voice became weaker and weaker, less and less alive.

A cough, a single cough brought him to the limit of his endurance.

He took her face in his hands and forced her to look at his face stopping her singing.

"You should rest, the dawn of the Trees is near. You need to rest and you need to let your eyes drift shut," he murmured, holding her face almost completely bare, like a withered autumn leaf, like a flower struggling through the snow to bloom.

She smiled weakly at him, laying a small hand on his larger one and leaving a sweet little kiss on his palm "Don't feel sorry for me my love, I still have the strength to take care of you."  

"You didn't complete the work that was assigned to you by our Father," he told her, noticing the dark circles on her face lit by the flames beside them "I noticed your exhaustion as you worked to complete your task. Your hands were shaking, your eyes closed, I should have brought you help,"

She smiled weakly at him again, settling even more against his touch.

"Don't make me leave you," she said, smiling at him out of the side of her mouth, "I can't sleep if I don't have you by my side, my sleep is shaken by nightmares, and I don't want you to leave our Father's work unfinished," she explained gently but then another cough made her bend over and look away from his.

One, two, three, four, five times she coughed, bending over and bringing a hand in front of her mouth, which gradually turned red, a red that cost him a tear and a prayer to his Father.

He had to save her, if not him, their creator he had to do it, any way he knew how but he had to do it, he couldn't see her extinguish before his eyes before she was even born. He could not take her away from him.

As soon as she was calm he took her face in his hands and laid his forehead on hers, looking at her through a veil of unshed tears.

"I would take all your aches and pains if I could, I would go beyond time and space to make all your aches and pains vanish my sky, my sun, my treasure, my soul," he whispered leaving her a sweet kiss on her lips "I will take care of you, Frea I swear, I will take care of you."

Disoriented, Durin closed his eyes, feeling them moist again, feeling as if he had been crushed by a boulder that was impossible to lift. It had happened again, he had again had a dream about his past without it having dawned on him.

But no, that wasn't a dream, it wasn't a memory, it couldn't be, because Ylva was there.

And yet he had seen her, she looked just like that dwarf lady, whom he had just seen, whom he had just remembered. But it was not possible, what he had seen was not possible.

Frea, he had called her.

Just thinking about that name made a terrible lump in his throat and an urge to scream at the top of his lungs his frustration and pain, the pain he had felt in that memory.

"Will you ever accept my proposal of marriage, oh, shining gem from the deepest of caves in the Misty Mountains?"

A croaking voice, broken by several sobs and slurred, broke the vision that had appeared before his eyes, bringing him violently back to the reality of what was happening around him.

The dwarf with whom Ylva had been dancing just now was bending at her feet, his arms theatrically outstretched towards her, holding her hand between his.

Ylva laughed, patting him on the forehead with both fingers, "Only when you will propose it to me as you are sober, Farim," she shot back, making him and everyone around the table laugh.

It was at that moment, when a second dwarf held her hand to get her off the table, that their gazes met and the aftermath of that earlier memory disappeared from his mind, as did that anguish, that pain, that anxiety and everything seemed at peace again.

Her dark eyes widened with surprise when she saw him: surely she had never expected to meet him again in such a situation and if it had not been for his initiative this would not have happened at all.

She smiled at him in turn as she stepped down from the table and with a small gesture of her head she pointed to the counter at the end of the tavern inviting him to go in that direction.

He didn't know what what he had just seen meant: at other times he would have been worried about it, but not at this moment, he just wanted to... talk to her.

He followed her without thinking much about it, and after making his way through the small crowd in front of the bar he saw her sitting on a stool, carelessly brushing her red hair to one side of her neck and wiping the remains of dust from her bodice. From the fact that she didn't want to meet his gaze and how she had tactically left an empty seat next to her, he realised that she was deliberately ignoring him but absent-mindedly inviting him to sit by her side.

A small, amused laugh escaped him, glad that his embarrassment towards her had already vanished again. He sat down next to her, crossing both arms on the counter and watching her out of the corner of his eye as she absent-mindedly fastened the laces of her dress around her forearms again.

"Mor, I may need a lager for me and a double malt for the master blacksmith sitting next to me, would you mind?" she looked up at the long grey-bearded innkeeper behind the bar.

He nodded to her with a quick gesture of his head, stopped cleaning the jar in his hands and started to take two mugs and prepare them.

"How did you know that? The type of ale I drink?" he asked her pleasantly surprised.

He found it curious that she knew what kind of beer he drank and he wasn't even good at covering it up as he found himself staring at her in wonder and with his mouth slightly open.

"I didn't know, so call it luck if you prefer my lord," she replied to him absentmindedly, lowering again the sleeves of her dress that had been pulled up during the dance.

"You know this morning I also received a stroke of luck my lady, someone reached at my door and gave me these," he winked at her, extending his forearm towards her, showing her the blue arm guards she had made fastened over his shirt.

She absentmindedly lowered her gaze and grinned with the side of her mouth as she continued to adjust the creased sleeves of her dress.  "Oh really my lord? I have no idea who it could be, I was late for work today you know, I overslept, so some dwarf lady may have snuck into my shop and may have taken them," she winked at him in turn continuing to play dumb.

He raised an amused eyebrow. "She must have been a very patient and cunning dwarf lady to have played you."

"I could almost say she's on the same level as me my lord," she retorted as she looked up slyly and darkly at him, widening the smile on her red lips.

Durin let out a soft laugh, especially as Ylva seemed more and more convinced to carry on with this charade, a charade that wasn't bothering him, on the contrary, he had missed it terribly. But when he was about to reply in kind, the innkeeper finally brought him their beers and placed them in front of them.

He reached into the pocket of his breeches looking for the few gold coins he carried with him every time he went down to the forges, but he wasn't quick enough to put them on the counter as Ylva's pale hand slammed down on the table leaving four bronze coins on it.

She noticed his disappointed look, shrugged and took a large swig from her pint, making any objections she might have had vain, just as she had the day before.

Although he didn't like the gesture at all, especially since he already knew what she had done for him, he took a swig of beer in turn, letting the golden liquid cool his palate.

"I'll pay you back, I promise," he reminded her in an ominous tone, glancing across the rim of the mug.

She did not seem intimidated, however, and shrugged her shoulders. "And I've already told you it's a gift," she retorted, wiping her lower lip with her fingertip, "so unless you want to take them off and throw them at me, it's a gift you've accepted.

"I didn't have a choice, it seems," he reminded her.

"If you had, you wouldn't have accepted them and I wanted to see them on you, so I had to take away your choice."

"I also told you that I would return for you, did I not, my lady?"

"You are not mistaken, my lord, in fact you did!" she began, pointing from head to toe with the beer glass, "You didn't tell me when though! I only speeded things up and then told you that I don't take no for an answer!" she winked, smiling at him.

Durin lowered his gaze, but this time he felt his cheeks flush, not from embarrassment but from the hilarity and simplicity of the situation. Perhaps the memory of what had happened earlier was still too vivid, perhaps he would have regretted his words and his proposal a little later, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than that.

He moved his arm lightly across the table towards Ylva's, drawing her attention. "May I also have this claim on you?" he asked, looking up at her.

She jerked slightly, looked at him in confusion, letting the cascade of fiery red curls fall to the side, "What do you mean? The one about not getting a no for an answer?"

He nodded, biting his lip nervously; he'd never been good at that sort of thing. 

"I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner with me one of these nights," he asked, trying to maintain eye contact, "I can have you picked up and escorted to the palace if you'd like," he said.

As soon as he asked her that question Ylva suddenly turned paler, her hand trembled and so did the glass she held close to her mouth: she looked at him surprised, perhaps too surprised.

She slowly lowered the cup and let it go on the table, blushing more and more and trying to mask her discomfort by smiling at him ironically, which made him feel terribly guilty even though his invitation was more than sincere.

"Y-you noticed we're in a tavern, right?" she asked, looking around as she continued to smile at him out of the side of her mouth nervously, "and it's just past dinnertime and... I don't need an escort, in that case, you know I'm already here with you." she explained, trying not to meet his eyes.

Suddenly he realised that it was not his proposal that had made her uncomfortable, but what followed and he had been a fool not to understand it: he had put her in an unpleasant situation and he was ashamed of it. He was like a king, she was an artisan. He was used to talking to women of his own rank, a little lower at most, but certainly his last words must not have been easy to understand, to swallow and to be heard.

"Are you proposing that I dine here with you Lady Ylva?" he asked her to be sure of what she was thinking.

She jolted again and smiled nervously at him, again adjusting her hair behind her ear with an impulsive gesture. "You said it, I just pointed out the current events and what they might entail," she chuckled softly.

"I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry about that. My proposal-"

"I did not say your proposal made me uncomfortable," she interrupted him quickly, looking up at him.

Durin's eyes widened, taken aback by her answer: he had always prided himself on not being able to be taken by surprise, on always having the answer ready and always being the one to have the last word on any matter, but that dwarf-woman in two days had shattered all his certainties, every single reality he thought he was living, including his past ones.

He smiled to himself with a sneer and looked up at the tavern keeper. He forgot the lessons of etiquette he had been taught and settled into the fact that he was only Durin that night, nothing but Thrain, not a king, not Durin, just Thrain. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loudly that he drew the tavern keeper who had just been deep in conversation with a group of no less than five dwarves to a table and made him turn towards them.

"Prepare us two dishes of the day and don't worry about the portions or how many times you fill the mugs," he said in a deep voice and this time he was quick enough to put a single gold coin on the counter.

She looked at him in amazement, turning the mug over in her hands in satisfaction, "You are full of surprises, my lord," she grinned.

Durin rolled his eyes slightly but couldn't help but hide the fact that the statement struck him in a pleasant way.

"I always have a way to escape my life and I have enough practice doing it, whether it be in the suburbs of Erebor or in training camps or situations that put people around me under pressure," he explained and then smiled at her with the side of his mouth, becoming slightly more serious than before. "I'm a dwarf, no different than anyone else."

He didn't know if he said this to her or to himself to convince himself of what he was saying, to give himself some consolation that his role wasn't his world but either way she reached out her hand slightly towards his brushing the tips of his fingers with hers.

"Oh you are very much so actually, different, and you don't even realise it and different isn't always a bad thing."

With that single sentence Durin realised that he had made the right choice that night, that he had done well to go down to the markets to see her again that he had been risking the wrath of his brother, because in that moment he felt as he had felt in that memory moments before: adored.

He did not know how much time passed, perhaps even hours, and as far as he could know. It could have been dawn and he would not have noticed. They talked for so long, about everything and nothing at all, that Durin found himself immersed in a world he had touched with his own hands, a world where he was alone, where no one was forcing him to make choices or be someone else. In which a dwarf lady in front of him spoke first of the various types of weapons she had tried and failed to forge in her life, then of how she used to sew winter jackets for her goats when she was still in the Iron Hills, and then of how she had run away one night to see a blood moon from the hills.

He felt as if he had known her all his life, though he had only met her the day before, and he too had come to tell of his misadventures, how he was a terrible miner, how he nearly set fire to the throne room in Erebor when he was a child, or how once, after his brother's wedding, he had woken up asleep on top of the throne.

He was so engrossed in that moment that he hardly noticed that the tavern had emptied, leaving only silence and a few nearly consumed candles around them. A few dwarves were asleep on the benches, others were silently drinking their last mug of ale, while he and Ylva had barely touched what was in front of them, not even noticing how often their fingers were touching and brushing against each other, fiddling with each other.

"What were you doing at the market yesterday? You've never been there before from what people say, in fact you're not often seen there," she asked him, fiddling with the edge of his arm guard, tracing the seams with her fingertips.

"We need to build some new housing areas and a new wing for the markets on the floors above us," he replied as he watched her pale, shy fingers stop at one of the stones.

"Many will be delighted by this news, you know," she confessed, smiling softly at him. "Many still have no homes and live in their workshops, others have homes two hours' walk from here, in the old shelters..." she explained, lowering the tone of her voice almost to a whisper.

Durin sensed a veil of sadness in her words that made him turn his hand over and grasp her hand lightly, looking into her dark eyes.

"Like you?" he asked her, not at all pleased with the answer she might give him.

Ylva shook her head and chuckled, grabbing his hand in turn "I manage your majesty, old Mor makes me a good price for a room and food. It's small but it has a bed, a table, a bowl and even a tiny fireplace," he explained, gesturing with her free hand, forcing another smile.

Durin, however, was not convinced by what she told him: it was as he had suspected and she was not the only dwarf lady in that condition, in the precariousness of a kingdom that perhaps even after her death would continue to be rebuilt.

However, hearing that information from someone, especially her, and not reading it through reports written on old parchments hurt him more than he had expected and made him face the great responsibility he carried on his shoulders.

"When we arrived here, there wasn't much," he began to tell her over the barely audible sound of the candle burning between them in total silence, "the battle lasted for months, taking one room at a time and for a long time I lived on a blanket next to a bonfire, nothing more. I understand how you feel,"

Ylva looked at him wide-eyed, opening and closing her mouth ready to say something, perhaps to retort, but finally she only smiled at him, nodding and slowly crossing her fingers with his in an almost intimate gesture, but so innocent and sweet that Durin did not have the heart to stop it.

"I'm very well, don't let it bother you," she tried to reassure him, smiling, "when you build the new residential wing," she continued, raising both eyebrows, "I'll be the first to put my savings aside for one of those dwellings, in your majesty's name!" she giggled and raised her half-full goblet high in a toast to him.

An amused laugh escaped Durin, but she continued gesturing with the goblet in front of her.

"I'm going to buy me one with even a bathtub built into the floor, one of those where you can put bath salts, you'll see!" she continued proudly, laughing to herself.

"In the palace, every room has one, I think you might like them so..."

She shook her head laughing as her cheeks coloured again, "I don't think I can go back and forth from my room to the palace to take a bath if that is your intention, my lord.”

"It wouldn't be a problem if you wanted to do it once."

"Oh please don't make fun of me, I haven't had enough to drink yet!" she retorted laughing and taking another sip from her mug before wiping her lips with her fingertips, "Speaking of which, can I ask you a question, about the palace?"

Intrigued, Durin nodded, pulling himself up slightly to sit ready for any questions she might ask him.

"Ask me anything you like," he said again.

Ylva looked around, checking to see if anyone was listening to them and then stepped closer to him rolling up the sleeves of her elegant red dress. She moved closer to his face, almost touching his nose and placed a cupped hand to the side of his mouth so no one could hear them.

"Is it true that in the palace there is an adorned room with bas-reliefs of Mithril?" she asked him and Durin nearly jerked back in his chair "My mother told me that Durin IV, you, had ordered it to be built with a golden floor. That she had inscribed your family tree on the floor and that all around, on the walls,  bas-reliefs of mithril and precious stones tell the story of... your lives, our lives.  Is this true?"

Durin looked towards his armguard and then towards Ylva's eyes, which were dark and pleading, asking him to tell them the truth. It was difficult for him, not so much to explain the existence of that room, but so much because he had no memory of that room, not even the smallest one. Perhaps he had built it for that very reason, but he only knew of its existence and of what others knew about it. What was on the walls or on the floor was of no importance to him.

He nodded, not finding the heart to lie to her "It's the private room of the royal banquets, it's almost completely unused these days, but yes, it exists."

Her face suddenly lit up and her mouth at first contorted into an ecstatic expression. "Really? It exists!

Do you know that it is said to have taken fifty years to complete, and that it took more than three hundred goldsmiths and at least twenty thousand gems just for one wall?! It's the closest thing to a miracle a goldsmith has ever achieved!”

He bit his lip slightly and yet another madness rose in his chest and took possession of his words. A strange idea buzzed in his head, in perfect, too perfect an idea. "Would you like to see it?"

Ylva's eyes widened and she immediately stopped talking or even breathing if he didn't see her chest move under her low-cut dress. "W-would you... would you let me see it? But I, I am me..."

"Because it's you, I want you to see it, it's my payment."

The dark eyes lifted to the sky and rolled in on themselves "Oh again, I thought we'd worked it out? There is no need for any payment-"

"Get your things," he told her quickly, coming down from the stool in front of the counter with a small jump.

This time he didn't give her a chance to retort, he had well understood that reasoning with her was pointless the more he would let her talk the more she would object to any kind gesture he would make on her behalf. His only choice was to do the same thing he had done with him a short time before: not to leave her a choice.

Ylva in fact looked at him as if he had gone mad blinking over and over again gripping the edges of the table "You've gone mad it's the middle of the night, they'll cut our heads off if they see us!"

"They'll cut my head off? And who would order that?" he replied, grinning out of the side of his mouth.

Carefully, he reached out a hand towards her, inviting her to take it with a slight bow: if she couldn't take no for an answer, he wouldn't either.

She looked at him in bewilderment, first at him and then at his hand, and finally after a long time she reached out and took his hand with a smile on her lips.

"You are completely insane, your majesty."

In the silence of Khazad Dum's palace their heavy, laboured breathing was the only sound echoing through the deserted halls. Dawn was not far away and yet everyone was still in a heavy sleep, unaware of what the king was about to do and who was with him.

Not even the rays of the sun dared disturb them, remaining hidden behind the peaks of the misty mountains, giving themselves a few more minutes.

Thorin walked swiftly, holding Ylva's hand still inside his, their fingers intertwining more and more with each step they took. Her hand was warm, small, and smooth, the softest, most delicate thing he had ever touched in his life. Sometimes he was afraid of squeezing it too tightly and hurting her, but often it was she who held on tightly, making his heart beat faster in his chest.

He guided her through the other rooms, knowing every tunnel by heart, and for the first time in almost six years he did not get lost, arriving at the palace in less than a handful of minutes. They passed the huge hall, turning quickly between the gigantic columns of the palace's main hallway, which occupied metres and metres of surface. He heard her tug several times, entranced by the spectacle that surrounded them, for though he had seen it so many times he could not deny it, Khazad Dum's palace was a spectacle, the greatest work of his people... his work after all, though he had no clear memory of it.

They walked swiftly until they reached the centre of the palace, surrounded by grey marble and veins of priceless white metal, and stopped in front of a huge golden doorway. The engravings on it were faded, but Thorin could read every single letter on it, though many of the characters had vanished completely. Carefully he let go of her hand and went to one of the doors; he grabbed hold of the huge handle and gave a mighty push  opening the doors wide. It was old, it was heavy, and it had been so long since he had entered that room that it was almost like opening the door to a world unknown to him.

"After you," he told her as he turned, gesturing with one of his hands for her to enter first.

Ylva's eyes moved quickly from side to side scanning every single part of the entrance hall nervously clutching the edges of the dress she was wearing.

Her dark eyes shone in the half-light becoming just as precious as the door behind her, if not more so.

"Th-thank you," she murmured as she looked away from him again, though it was not easy for him to notice as she shifted her gaze back to the door immediately afterwards, looking at it amazed.

Thorin smiled, feeling incredibly light-hearted, as if he had just made the best gesture in the world, and he partly felt it, as if he had just made Ylva extremely happy with his small effort.

He followed her silently into the room, watching her as she walked through the door, looking around. She gasped and put her hands in front of her mouth as Thorin slowly grabbed one of the torches outside and quickly ignited one of the torches at the entrance, creating a chain reaction that lit up the huge square brazier that ran the length of the room.

Gleams of gold, gems and metal overhung each other and little by little every single drawing or rune or bas-relief, warriors, goats and towers alternated, showing in the greatest idleness the great deeds of his House. His figure was always there, with sword, bow, axe, dead or alive, he was always there.

Thorin sighed heavily, unable to look beyond that work of art, and turned his gaze towards Ylva, who instead kept her eyes focused upwards, holding her chest with both hands in amazement.

She walked slowly, her red hair shining in the light of the torches, her dress of the same colour draped over the golden floor, barely covering her pale skin. The freckles on her body looked to him like tiny rubies set in a statue of white stone and her dark eyes like two shining flakes of black obsidian as strong as it was elegant.

She was the most important jewel in that room, and he was unable to stare at her uninterruptedly: she was a sight that would never be repeated to him, and he wanted her to remain imprinted in his mind forever, to remain at least that memory imprinted on him for all his lives to come.

"This is.... in the name of… I've never seen anything like it in my entire life...."

" Beautiful...." he replied preceding her, not talking about the room at all, but she couldn't know that.

Ylva looked at him smiling shyly and nodded quickly "It is, yes it is, magnificent," she answered him almost with tears in her eyes, "I don't even dare to imagine how much it cost and how much it's all worth."

"It's not calculable, or at least that's what it says in the books, it's worth more than the earthly value, I suppose," he replied walking back to the centre of the room leaving behind the torch he was holding earlier.

Slowly she approached one of the walls, looking curiously at it walking with slow steps along its length without ever taking her eyes off the figures created with the gemstone settings or the backgrounds made of pure silver mithril.

"Do you remember these things depicted on the walls?" she asked, staring at one effigy in particular.

Thorin looked at himself, holding a two-pronged axe, while on the slopes of Mount Doom, an orc's head flying in the air He was flanked by an elf and a man: The Battle of the Last Alliance.

That, he remembered. It was only a few scenes, but inside he could hear the clatter of spears and swords, the screams of pain, the heat of the ground, and the Dark Lord advancing towards them covered in smoke and flames. He could feel the fear, the agitation, his desire to take revenge for all the evil on the land that had been caused by him, but... nothing more.

He brought his hands behind his back as he moved closer to her side "Not entirely, no," he answered as he lowered his gaze to the ground, "just bits and pieces, nothing more. It's not like you just pick and choose, I only remember small fragments, nothing more, like smudges on a paper, an incomplete drawing," he concluded, lowering his voice more and more, unable to hide his pain or his sadness that caused him those empty spots, the not knowing.

Ylva did not answer him and remained silent, observing the carvings for a few moments, before walking in small steps towards one of them. Thorin's eyes widened as she lifted her hand slightly, brushing her fingertips over his face in the bas-relief, touching his beard set with black gems and then his chest covered with blue gems.

He squinted his eyes slightly as if he felt her fingers on his body, as if she was touching him and not a piece of stone, and slowly every single affliction seemed to disappear from his chest. "It must be awful, not remembering, not... knowing a part of your life, even if it's one you've already lived," she said turning her gaze to him "I'm so sorry my lord,"

"It's not as bad as you think, memories can always be rebuilt," he answered her forcing a smile "and my new ones won't drown out my old ones and my old ones won't drown out my new ones."

"You must be very lonely," her voice cracked, "to see the people you love leave and know that… that you'll be back and they won't," she whispered in a voice full of sadness and melancholy, erasing the last string holding him to reality.

Thorin felt a dagger pierce his stomach, opening a wound that still continued to bleed, day after day: she had told him the truth and he, after all, had no one, no one was like him. Everyone was leaving and he was staying.

He clenched his jaw and quickly lowered his head, not wanting to look further, feeling deeply hurt, feeling as if the whole truth of his existence had been thrown back in his face. And she had understood it, no one else.

He did not see her, but he felt her jolt and her breathing quicken. 

"Oh no, I'm sorry, please, no, I... I didn't mean to..." she tried to justify in a trembling voice, broken by a soft croak.

But Thorin could not look at her, he was covered in shame at himself, at what he was.

"I'd better go, I've talked too much... I'm sorry, my lord, please forgive me..." she said, still in a broken voice.

He didn't answer, not knowing what to say to her, what lie he could tell her, what he could reveal to her about everything he felt every day, but it took him too long to think, because he saw her out of the corner of his eye starting to walk away from him.

No, he wanted anything but that, she had to stay, he couldn't lose her too, not her.

With quick steps he chased her and with a lightning gesture he grabbed her arm forcing her to stop and turn towards him.

 "No...." he murmured looking up into his dark eyes "stay here, with me, please..."

Ylva's eyes widened as she looked at him, stunned by his sudden gesture, which she would never have dared to make if not in that situation.

"Stay with me Ylva," he repeated, leaving her speechless for the first time, leaving himself speechless. "You're the most real and alive thing that's happened to me in all these years of... memories," he murmured through his lips, gently raising his other hand and brushing a wisp of red hair with his fingertips, afraid that she might disappear from in front of his eyes. "Stay here," he begged her, "just stay until dawn, that's all I ask, just a few hours, let me feel like this for a little bit longer,."

Ylva opened and closed her mouth several times and then suddenly her gaze softened to the point of breaking his heart in his chest: she was so beautiful, so perfect, so... right for him.

Gently, she lifted her hand to his face and hesitantly placed it on his cheek, gently brushing his beard. Thorin held his breath and squinted his eyes, settling slowly into the palm of her hand and enjoying those few moments of warmth.

"You look older than you are when you close your eyes," she whispered half-heartedly, stroking his jaw.

A sad smile escaped his lips.

 "I am," he nodded slowly opening his eyes "I have ages behind me, you on the other hand..." he stopped to speak taking a deep breath "You are radiant, you are, beautiful and spirited, and alive like a ray of sunshine in a too dark cave, like a jewel in the middle of a barren rock, like the brightest of stars reflected in the Kheled Zaram," he said.

Her cheeks turned red, her pupils widened and she tried again to mask her expression with one of her beautiful half-mouthed smiles, "Now you are exaggerating."

He shook his head anxiously "And I've never been so serious in my life... in my lives".

Durin's forehead went to rest gently on hers bringing her so close he could feel their noses brush against each other as their mouths drew closer uncontrolled and uncontested, because neither of them would be able to stop at that moment and neither of them wanted to. He slowly slid his thumb over her chin, gently cupping her cheek with his hand, watching her half-closed black eyes and the sparkle they gave off beyond her long black lashes, for him, just for him.

Ylva's hands went to move over his chest, resting both of them on it, for a moment she almost seemed to want to push him away, to stop him somehow becoming able to block that huge mistake, that huge and sweet mistake in which they were about to let go.

In that small corner of infinity, made of stars and flames, their mouths met, shaking the very roots of the mountain and untying the thread that had only been pulling them to each other day after day, and it was as if they were breathing for the first time.

 All the stars in the universe froze and slowed their turn shattering the veil of day only to observe that moment branded under both their names long before they had uttered their first wail.

 No, he knew she was right, they could not go back, not anymore, welded together by a bond as unbreakable and as eternal as Arda herself.

Durin felt small silent tears pass over his eyelashes, his whole existence going back, his whole life becoming clear before his eyes, her becoming living flesh before his eyes and under his hands.

He held her close, desperate, afraid she would slip from his hands again as the falling tears welded their kiss, their first kiss in hundreds of years.

Ylva. Sylvi. Frea. 

He had found her again. His soul, his breath, his heart, his sun, his stars. He - Durin, Thorin, he... had her again, she was his again one more time.

[thepartingglassofthorin]

Of Death

His breath was gone, his heart had stilled; he was dead. Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's folk, Reclaimer of Erebor, was dead. He wished it wasn't so, there was so much he still wished to do, even more he wished to do over. Although he was dead, he felt a tear trickle into his beard, he could hear something in the distance, it sounded like yelling. The voice became louder as it came closer to his body, Thorin recognized it instantly, it was his Brother in Arms, and the tone in his voice said everything. Dwalin and the others were there, witnessing the last of Durin's line demise. Thorin's sobs joined the others as they cried for their friend, brother and King.

Thorin waded through the darkness, unconsciously plowing towards a tiny spec in the distance. He had to move, to be rid of the darkness that surrounded him. Voices too, surrounded the warrior, some kind, others harsh, all filling his thoughts and giving him the sense of no escape. Escape, what a wonderful thought! He would do just about anything to be rid of the dark void he wandered through and the voices that taunted him. "Look at him," a gruff male voice said, almost sneering. "The great Khuzdul King, running from his fears." "Give him a rest," a kind female voice quipped, reprimanding the first. "It can't be easy to be murdered." The first snorted and moved on, while the second made a sympathetic mumble before moving away. More voices came and went, more taunting then the first, and less sympathetic then the second.  The spec in the distance took form as an open doorway, the other side radiating with a feeling of home and comfort. Ease settled into Thorin's heart as he felt the light touch he face, wading though the dark became easier and the voices faded. He reached for the white void, but something nagged at him. He would be reunited with his fallen family and friends, and await the arrival of those still living. He was sure Fili and Kili were waiting for him to enter and enjoy the afterlife with him, and he couldn't wait to see them, full of their childish laughter that they lacked on the quest.  Despite all of the things that awaited him in the Halls, he still hesitated. "What is it child," a voice asked, gruff but kind and clear, more defined then the other voices. Thorin turned towards the voice and saw an older looking man. He held ancient knowledge in his eyes that burned with fire. His beard was long and grey, as was the hair on his head, both braided spectacularly. His hands were rough with worked age, he had obviously held a smithy's hammer most of his life, if not all of his life. "Ye do not wish to enter me Halls," he asked, clasping his hands under his round belly. Thorin felt his face flush as he realized who he was facing. "Is there somethin' that troubles ye?" "No, I wish to enter your Halls, My Lord," Thorin said quickly, lowering his gaze to Aule's feet. Instead of boots, the tops of his feet were covered in a thick fur, rather like a hobbit's. "Then why wait," he said, gesturing to the doorway. "Yer afterlife is waiting, and yer nephews are eager to meet again." Thorin winced as he was reminded that they were dead, he lowered his gaze further to his own feet. It had been a family joke that Thorin would outlive the two because of an adventure they would traipse after. A bitter taste was left on his tongue as he was again reminded he brought them on their death bound adventure. Thorin felt Aule's heavy hand grasp his shoulder, a firm but gentle touch that gave reassurance, a smile on the Valar's aged face as Thorin gazed up at him. "Yer not th' first ta stop at me door because of regret," he informed Thorin, rubbing his thumb against his shoulder. He felt relieved that he wouldn't need to explain what feeling dwelt in his heart, it wasn't something a dwarf normally did. Auel chuckled, clapping Thorin's shoulder, slightly worrying the Dead King. "I made ye out o' stone fer a reason lad," he chortled as he lead Thorin towards the beconing doorway. "But in there, ye need not be made o' stone, ye don't need ta weather any storms in there," he explained as he walked through. Auel's grasp slipped from Thorin's shoulder to his hands, Thorin felt like a pebble again, being lead along by his father. Thorin's heart panged again, realizing that his father may be in there. But even as Auel stepped through, Thorin hesitated again. Auel stopped, still gripping Thorin's hand, a fatherly look of worry on his face. "What is it lad?" He asked, stepping back into the dark. "Is there a reason ye shouldn't enter-" "No!" Thorin shouted, snapping out of his thoughts. His voice echoed in the dark, stirring up the restless spirits that lingered there. "No, I feel qualified, but...." Thorin paused, trying to find his words. Auel watched him, no longer being able to read his thoughts as he had before. Or, it seemed that way to Thorin. "Isn't there another way," he asked, stepping away from the door, pulling his hand from Auel's. "A way where we all live- I don't even care if I die," Thorin added when Auel gave him a queer look. "Fili and Kili are practically children- And Dis! Ohh, Dis... Please, don't make her loose her lads," Thorin begged, tears falling off his beard and landing near his feet. Auel stated at Thorin with his queer look, the kind look had vanished as Thorin had made his plea. Thorin waited patiently for his answer, his heart plummeting as Auel stifled a snort. As his snort became guffawing, Thorin knew it was impossible, he felt his soul crush. "Oh lad, can't ye see where ye are," Auel asked, wiping a joyous tear from his eye. Thorin frowned as the darkness disappeared, and the feeling of a prison left. Thorin and Auel were now standing on a green hill, with flowers of every color blooming around them. In the distance, he saw hobbits sitting, laughing, being hobbits, while dwarves made themselves merry nearby, but the most unusual thing was that they were mingling, hobbits taking drink of the dwarves strong ale, and the dwarves learning how to garden with the smaller hobbits. Three, no four heads, Thorin recognized in the hobbit's group, five! Fili had dirt in his hair, making it harder to recognize, while he had though Kii was a lady hobbit with that flower crown in his hair, and the one he was struggling to make in his hands. Vili, their father, was sampling the hobbit cuisine, starting with the greens he was eating as if they were poisoned, now wolfing them down, finding they were actually tasty! Thrain was over under a tree with a little table, teaching a few of the hobbits about metal weaving. One hobbit yelped as a piece of coal split in two, showering Thrain's leather apron in sparks, but it didn't effect the old king. The hobbit's laughed at the one, Thrain chuckled a small bit before resuming the class, chiding the hobbits for laughing. Fundin, who was playing checkers with an elderly hobbit couple, while smoking a pipe, waved with a happy smile. Thorin waved, hesitantly, back, then turned with a questioning look at Auel. The King of the Halls smiled, his fiery eyes on the brink of tears. "Look through lad," he said, stepping away from the open door, sniffing back the emotions to keep them at bay. "I don't understand," Thorin said, folding his arms, still quite confused. "I thought that was the door that lead-" "To th' Halls? Nay lad, th' second ye hit th' light, ye were in th' Halls. Come, look through th' door! See what lay beyond!" Thorin stepped forward, leaning on one side of the doorway. He was still confused, but the gentle peace that settled over him pushed those to the back of his mind.

The white dissolved into an aerial view of Bree. The human settlement's streets were packed, even as it rained. Although it rained, Thorin could smell the food items from the market vendors, an apple crisp becoming quite distinguished through the many smells. The view scanned the streets as if it were from a bird's eye, watching the various people waiting in vending lines. The view finally settled on a shorter person, one with a familiar blue cloak and silver tassel. "This is a one time chance lad," Auel said in a hushed voice, Thorin had first thought he was speaking to himself. The dead king balked for a moment, realizing what the Valar meant. Joy flooded through him for that same moment, only to be squashed as another thought bloomed. He cast a worrying glance at his dead friends and family. "What of them?"  Auel followed his gaze and grumbled, he hadn't really wanted to dwell on the matter much, seeing as he was breaking nearly every rule in his book.  He knew exactly who Thorin meant too, doing this probably looked like a death sentence to them. "I can not explain th’ details lad," Auel explained quickly. "Ye must trust me that they'll survive this time, it's up to ye whether ye will er not. Their souls will return with ye, but unlike ye, they won't remember a thing." Auel glanced worriedly at the doorway, then back at Thorin. "I need yer answer now, yes or no?!"

Tags! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

@agirlunderarock @cassiabaggins @legolaslovely

[leia-hill]

!!MASSIVE SPOILERS BELOW THE LINE!!

Illustrations of the three endings of the Dracà-cwellere fanfiction. Three very nice and so lovely portraits! I commissionned the amazing @eggelo for this and he send me these gorgeous pieces of art. Thank you again for this lovely commission, each of them fits greatly the alternative ending I wrote for this fanfiction AND I LOVE IT. Please commission @eggelo! Such a nice and talented artist! Here’s a link to the fanfiction behind it:

fanfiction.net : https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11332235/1/Drac%C3%A0-cwellere

AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492769/chapters/25780161

Aaaand the summary:

A woman warrior struck with anathema. An extraordinary journey to the Lonely Mountain. A choice between the life she leaves behind her and the adventure of a lifetime. Relive the epic quest of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield through the eyes of its fifteenth member: Ayrèn. Will she change the cruel fate of Durin’s sons?

The three portraits are below.

[rhett-julian-blog]

Touch

Chapter 1

Summary: The story of two unlikely individuals forced together begins as one might expect: with a thief, a dwarf, and a bit of magic. Whether the magic is of the good kind is for them to decide. 

OR

Yet another fix-it fic in which a random, new character is thrown into the already existing plot of "The Hobbit" and manages to change the outcome -though many of the events remain the same.

Disclaimer:  I do not claim any sort of ownership over any of the characters other than my OC's. I am merely borrowing the others and their story for a little while (maybe). This is just meant to entertain anyone who can stand my particular style of writing.

Author’s Note: Hugely based off of the Hobbit movies by Peter Jackson and the book that started it all by J.R.R Tolkien, I’ve been sitting on this idea for a long time. I’ve finally gotten around to writing it and posting it. I admit, it’s like many others that repeat what we already know but I thought of giving it a shot. Can’t hurt! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Original Female Character

Rating:  T

Word Count: 5095

><><><><><><><><><><>< 

In a clearing in the woods, there is a camp. Not a loud, rowdy camp but a quiet camp of weary travelers. There are sixteen individuals in all. A single hobbit sleeps uncomfortably near a dying fire, a wizard in gray dozes against a log and thirteen dwarves all snore into their beards. It would be a serene, if not completely normal scene, had it not been for the fact that the original company was composed of only fifteen. It is not difficult to determine who does not belong, as this unwelcome guest currently perches most precariously near a sleeping dwarf, hand stuffed deep within his pocket.

It is early in the day, the new dawn gray and still.  The hour is that where creatures of the night begin to settle and those active in the light barely begin to stir. As such any sound seems muted, drowned in the peace of the groggy morning. To break the stillness of the atmosphere would seem a most unforgivable sin.

��Then again, as a hand retrieves a pouch stuffed full of coins, it seems the intruder wishes only to not wake the sleeping dwarf, rather than preserve the tranquility. Eyes shadowed by a thick maroon hood bounce between the dwarf and the pouch as slowly, with utmost care, the purse is settled snugly within the confines of the thief’s own sack. But the task is not yet done. After robbing the dwarf of his coins, other pockets are scrutinized with curious fingers and more objects are quickly added to the thief’s collection.

 It is a pity that the dwarf fell asleep while on watch, for his valuables are but the first to fall prey to the hunter’s greed. The thief, in turn, blesses the morning’s fortune. One by one, eleven more dwarves, the hobbit and even the wizard are relieved of their material goods. It is a cautious but not sluggish task. Moving with a practiced ease among the bedrolls, hands and fingers wander confidently but carefully. The thief’s dexterous digits seem to move of their own volition, like hounds sniffing for their quarry they seem to locate the most valuable goods with ease.

 Within minutes, as the dawn barely begins to blush with color, all but one of the company has been robbed. It is a dwarf, but he sleeps far from the others and does not lie across the ground. Instead his back is to a boulder and he keeps one hand upon the wooden haft of an axe. Such a position would commonly suggest alertness; one the thief would avoid, but the dwarf has succumbed to exhausted sleep. His head droops loosely to the cushion of dark hair swept over his shoulder. His snores are deeper and steadier than all the other dwarves. He would be, according to the thief, the easiest one to steal from - too tired to notice the warm presence that now hovers at his shoulder.

 As predicted, the job is quick and simpler than all the rest. This dwarf does not carry much in valuables, even his pack is barren of many belongings. The thief displays little remorse in leaving the traveling group without a cent as the job concludes with one more sack of coins stolen.

 But then, of course, it happens. A minor thing of seemingly little importance; the dwarf moves his hand. It is a small, unconscious movement, merely a twitch. The thief freezes. There, unseen until now, within reach upon the dwarf’s finger sits a large, gleaming ring. A silver square-shaped ring that would surely bring in quite the sum - if it were to be taken.

 The thief looks out towards the woods and the waking sky and takes a single step in that direction before looking back at the ring. It is a marvelous piece of jewelry, thick and heavy; obviously crafted by talented dwarves. Anxious fingers toy with a vial tied from the thief’s neck. Eyes flicker back and forth from the safety of the trees and the gleam upon the dwarf’s finger. The sounds of bird song already whistle in the trees, a rabbit darts from one bush to another and still the thief does not move. To take the ring would be risky. To stay any longer would be to risk getting caught. The thief cannot afford to be caught. Nodding, their mind made up, three steps are taken in direction of the woods, before being retraced in a hurried fashion back to the dwarf’s side.

 Greed overpowers the knowledge that they have enough, but it does not hinder the thief’s caution. Looking about the camp, and sparing the sleeping dwarf a wary glance, a tentative hand reaches out for the ring. Pinching with forefinger and thumb, the ring begins to wriggle free from its rightful place. Little by little, twist by twist the ring loosens. The entire affair takes only a few seconds, but the loud thumping in the thief’s ears makes it seem like an eternity as their gaze flits worriedly between the dwarf and his possession.

 With a final decisive tug the ring plops warmly into eager fingers. The thief gazes fondly at the prize but the euphoria of success is interrupted by a deep, sleep-addled voice. “What are you doing?” The dwarf is waking up, alerted by the sensation of a foreign touch. There is a moment of stillness, it lasts less than the life of a single breath. As soon as it is over, the thief stares into the eyes of the dwarf as comprehension fills their cerulean depths.

 Striking out with ferocious speed before the thief can react, thick dwarven fingers wrap around the hand holding the ring and the other reaches out attempting to grab a hold of the intruder. The thief wastes no time in responding just as viciously. Already clutching a small blade, it is swung towards the dwarf. It makes slicing contact and he lets go with an aggrieved grunt.

 No time is wasted looking for the point of contact. Pulling free the thief collects the sack full of stolen goods and races towards the woods. The knife is hidden away safely, wiped of what little blood remained on its blade. The thief has not determined a destination but rather only a single goal: to escape. And it is almost guaranteed were it not for the sound of one very angry dwarf in pursuit. It will not be simple to lose him, after all everyone in Middle Earth knows that dwarves are natural sprinters. But the thief has some confidence. Despite their own lack of speed, they are running through a forest filled with fallen branches, rotten logs and clearly many, many trees. Surely, a burly dwarf can be outrun.

 However, after minutes of running at their top speed, the thief is tiring. Legs aching and lungs burning, they push on only because the dwarf is gaining ground, the sounds of his own labored but measured breaths getting closer and closer. The thief will not be eluding the dwarf much longer. It seems the right time to change tactics. Slowing, the thief hopes that by surrendering, the dwarf can be appealed to. The pursuer however, does not slow. He does not so much as weaken in his step. He keeps running and collides heavily against the thief, hurdling them forward and effectively smashing them against the trunk of the nearest tree.

 Crack! Rammed against rough bark, the thief tastes blood. Little time is left to ponder the pain or the taste as the dwarf finally and roughly jostles them around to face him. Slightly dizzy, the thief puts up no fight. Instead they slyly slip the stolen ring into their pocket and blink blearily up at the angered dwarf from beneath their hood.

 The dwarf spares the short man only a cursory glance. There is not much too see except dirt streaked clothing, a lowered hood and a cracked vial filled with purple liquid. The dwarf holds out a sharp axe menacingly, deterring any hope of escape. “Run, and I shall cleave this axe into your back.”

 “Woah,” the thief’s voice is a rough, panting whisper as small hands are raised in surrender and the hooded head ducks down further, “no.  I won't run.”

 Accepting this as truth, the dwarf relaxes his defensive stance and allows the axe to slide to the ground. Just as soon as the axe is lowered, the thief gives a mighty push and charges away as fast as possible.

 Thwack! The thief does not make it far. Handle vibrating from the force, the axe imbeds itself into the tree, inches away from the thief’s head. The dwarf stalks up, anger overflowing at the blatant lie and betrayal. “You dare try to run away? To try and escape from me?”

 The cloaked thief can do little but turn to face the advancing mass of fury. A huge dwarven fist swings towards them, aiming straight for their head. Narrowly avoiding it, they escape only by falling against the tree and axe. Now trapped between the tree and one extremely furious dwarf, there is nothing to do, but to beg. Chest still heaving, the thief grabs the vial filled with purple liquid in one hand and pleads, “Oh, please no! Don't hit me. I'll-“

 “I'll do as I see fit to any man who dares steal from me!” Such is the dwarf’s wrath, he is deaf to what the thief’s voice reveals. Shooting out his injured hand, (for the knife had cut across his palm) he grabs the thief’s cloak and keeps them still as he clenches his fist again and swings.

 There was no escaping the oncoming impact of the enraged hit, but the thief is desperate. That meaty fist looks like it could break something and easily. In a last attempt to spare too much injury, the thief reaches up and pulls down the maroon hood while rapidly speaking, “And a woman?”

 The advancing punch falters only enough for the fist to open. A heavy hand slaps straight across the thief’s face, snapping her head sharply to the side. It was, thankfully, no bone shattering punch, but her cheek now stung and her neck ached from the force of it. Raising cool fingers to her cheek, she winced as she looked back at the dwarf. “Yes,” her jaw hurt as she spoke, “very well. I deserved that I suppose.”

 The dwarf feels a moment of guilt. He had vowed to never raise his hand in violence toward a woman. She had a dirt streaked face, her bottom lip was split and her cheek was blossoming in an angry red color. It was a pathetic picture. But his anger soon returned to him, his guilt pushed aside. The thief being a woman did not change the fact that she had stolen from him and his company. He took another step forward, crowding her while tightening his hold on her cloak. “You will return what you have stolen from me immediately.”

 “Of course.” There was no use fighting it now, and much less of trying to escape.

 “And what you took from the rest of my company.”

 The woman grits her teeth and the grip she has on the vial tightens. “I don't think so.” She does not notice the sudden bite of glass in her palm. “I stole that stuff fair and square. If they want it back they can come and get it themselves.” He is still crowding her, pushing her heavily against the tree. Releasing the crushing hold she has on the vial, she raises her hands to his chest to push him away but only manages to do so weakly as she begins to cough.

 He too coughs a few times before stepping away from her and allowing her the room she demands but he remains cautious. This time, the dwarf will not underestimate the thief’s desire to escape.

 With her free hand she reaches deeply into her pocket, and as she retrieves it, his ring is cushioned in her palm. She holds it out and he makes an avid grab for it before she snatches it right out of his reach. His fingers close over nothing but air. Glancing up their eyes lock: hers brown and mischievous, his like twin blue flames.

 She breaks the contact first by tossing him his ring and stepping out of reach. “The ring didn't fit anyway, so no big loss I suppose.”

 “And the rest of it?”

 “Like I already s-” With the pain subsiding in her cheek and her breath finally calming, she finally feels the sharp sting in her palm. Surprised, she turns her hand over and looks at the shards of glass clinging painfully from her skin before realizing the glass could only belong to the vial that had hung about her neck for months. The vial filled with a purple liquid. The vial filled with a very powerful potion.

 A bitter taste crawls up her throat, the dwarf’s voice becomes a mumbled background noise. The vial was broken, the potion released. The potion she had taken out of pure curiosity because the description of its powers had been too fascinating to not wish to witness it for herself. But it had not been meant for her.

 In a hurry, she opens her sack of stolen goods and retrieves everything she had taken from the dwarf in front of her and tosses them at him. Her desperate voice is clipped and short as she says, “Here, here. Take your things.” It is her luck that he abandons the surprised look he is giving her to collect his belongings. So while he is distracted she scurries off, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the dwarf.

 It is in those moments, as she sneaks away from him, that she hopes she is wrong. Surely, it takes a while for a potion to take effect. Undoubtedly, it does not actually do what she was told it did. Without question, it would not be potent enough to take effect. Right?

 She is nearly thirty hobbit paces away when he finally realizes that she has escaped him, again. The thief hears him call out to her, his words mean nothing as they are carried away. Her measured and careful steps become strides as she realizes she is nearly in the clear. Just another step…

 There is a tug in her gut. It is too late. The potion has worked and she knows it. Despite this however, she takes another step, futilely hoping it is her imagination. With the next step, she feels her legs seize up, the muscles tensing and cramping painfully. She takes another, praying the cramps are merely a result of being chased through the forest. Another step and her body freezes in pain.

 On this morning, while drops of dew cling like precious jewels to an old spider web, while cheerful bird song lifts the air and the sun’s warm rays fall in dappled patterns through the trees, two lives are irrevocably forged together.

 The thief does not take another step. She freezes in her spot and inhales the fresh air deeply through her nose. The pain that grips her has not abated but as she forces herself to calm, she finds it is a tolerable sort of pain, though definitely an unwanted one. The potion, its magic, has worked.

 To continue moving away from the dwarf would be to spell disaster. It is still, however, with great reluctance that she turns back to look at him. He is still standing in the same spot, an exact thirty hobbit paces away from her. His face, she imagines, looks much like her own. Twisted in discomfort and arms helplessly clutched about his abdomen. Unlike her however, his dark brows are drawn tightly together in confusion. The thief is not confused, she knows exactly what has occurred. And she knows exactly what she must do next.

 Stiffly she trudges back through the undergrowth towards the dwarf. The pain does not subside even for a moment, but the nearer she gets to him the more desperate she becomes to reach him already. But she slows as soon as she can see the deep blue of his eyes and finally she stops as he rights himself. Slowly, apologetically, she reaches her bare hand out towards him.  

 He is clearly worried, not understanding the source of his debilitating and uncomfortable pain. The dwarf can see the woman standing there, her hand held out to him but he cannot comprehend what has occurred. He knows of the cramps that grip his leg muscles, he feels the discomfort as plainly as he can see it on her face and he knows she suffers just the same. But why? He realizes it matters little as he glances down at her outstretched hand and then goes back to looking straight at her. She has a pitiful smile about her lips because they both know. He knows what he must do, though how he knows precisely, he cannot be sure. Sighing, he reaches out and takes her hand in his own.

 The relief of release is swift and instant. The pain melts from their bodies through the brief contact of their hands. As soon as it is over, they let go of one another and the dwarf looks long and hard at the woman in front of him. She in turn, avoids his gaze for as long as she can before dropping her shoulders in defeat.

 “We are cursed.”

 ><><><><><><><><><><>< 

 As soon as she has finished explaining what has transpired, the thief goes very quiet. Her arms are crossed, frown deep and pensive. She looks just as he feels. The dwarf can hardly wrap his head around it: they’re cursed. Of all the many obstacles he had believed would hinder him on his journey, this particular instance had not crossed his mind a single time.

 But then again, maybe this issue could be resolved. Perhaps, not all was lost. At the very least he would not give up hope yet.

 Abruptly he stands, hefting his axe into his hand and walking away. He does not look back or call out to her, simply starts marching back towards his campsite. He supposes, briefly, that there is an upside to his predicament: she cannot leave. She can’t stray too far from him, nor can she deceive him any longer. The thief absolutely must follow, which means she will have to return the items stolen. This pleases him, but it is a very small comfort. After all, what if the issue cannot be resolved?

  “Are we returning to your camp?”

 His reply is a curt, “Yes.”

 Sighing, the thief supposes she should have expected this. If they were to be cursed together she would have to go where he went. She resigns herself to the fact that she must give up her own life to follow the dwarf. The loss of her independence makes her ache to the very core. Her only comfort: that he seems to be as equally upset by the circumstances.

 He speaks again as they get closer to the camp, “There is someone in my company - a wizard. He may be able to help us out of this unforeseen and inopportune quandary.” This news seems to delight her. Her step quickens to match his pace rather than lagging a few steps behind. As soon as they are free of one another, the better for them both.

 Upon reaching the camp, he pays little attention to the number of still sleeping dwarves (their lack of initiative would have angered him at any other time) and rushes along towards the wizard in gray who sits on a boulder packing tobacco into his pipe. The man in question glances up with a bright smile aimed in their direction, but as the dwarf and the thief get closer, his smile fades.

 “Gandalf,” says the dwarf, wasting no time in getting to the point, “we require your help immediately.”

 “Indeed. What on earth has occurred to the two of you? You simply reek of magic!”

 “We’ve been cursed.”

 “Cursed?!” Gandalf’s raspy voice deepens in surprise as his pipe is all but forgotten. “How did this come to be?”

 “We have… well, been inadvertently exposed to a very powerful potion.” This time the thief speaks up. The wizard’s eyebrows shooting up prompt her to continue; she can already imagine the question he wishes to ask. “It magically bonds two self-aware beings forcing them to remain near one another. To venture outside of the limits allowed causes pain to prompt the two… subjects back to one another.” She had only explained the situation twice thus far and already she could feel it weighing her down. She was stuck… to a dwarf! The reality of it was closing in on her but she tried to focus and breathe deeply. Surely the wizard would fix this. He must. He is a wizard.

 Gandalf suddenly seems to remember his pipe and ignoring the two miserable looking people before him he raises it to his lips and begins to puff away. For a long while, he does not speak, nor does he make eye contact with either of them. Rather, he begins to blow perfect rings of smoke above his head, watching them disperse into the atmosphere.

 He finally speaks when a glance over at them reveals their near-murderous expressions, “I am afraid there is nothing I can do.”

 The thief clicks her jaw. Her mouth opens, lips twisted in a sneer before she allows a sinister smile to claim the position. A small huff escapes her nose and she notes how quickly the wizard ceases to smoke. “There is nothing you can do?” Gandalf seems to wish to say something but she beats him to it, stepping forward and saying, “You took all that time, to tell us there is nothing you can do? So much for a great and pow-” The thief cuts herself off, closing her eyes to refrain herself from speaking unnecessary words.

 Gandalf clears his throat, clearly affronted. “There is nothing I can do, but I may have a friend who can.”

 “A friend? Where can we find this friend of yours?”

 “Oh…” he drawls distractedly, “He is still some ways off, but undoubtedly our journey shall allow us to cross paths with him.”

 Our journey? She supposes she grew too excited at the prospect of being free. It had been hopeless from the start. Slowly she looks around the camp. There are four empty bedrolls, two undoubtedly belonging to the dwarf and the wizard. The rest are filled with lightly sleeping individuals. Individuals she stole from and now apparently, has to travel with. She supposes it could be worse, but she honestly cannot imagine a worse scenario.

 The dwarf has similar thoughts. However, he feels his situation is much direr than her own. He muses on his misfortune. His quest was already nearly impossible, but now he had to include the extra responsibility of another person, and a woman at that. To make it worse, he was magically bonded to her, now he also had to watch his step, ensuring neither of them wandered too far from each other as if he did not have enough to worry about. He looks to Gandalf, “I do hope your friend will be more capable.” Turning away, he gives the wizard no chance to respond.

 Directing himself towards the woman, he leads her to where two of his company members are returning from the woods. “It would seem we must tolerate each other for a while.”

 “It appears so.” They stand side by side until the two other dwarves arrive.

 “Balin. Dwalin,” he begins, “there is something we must discuss immediately.”

 “What has happened? Who is this lil’ girl?”

 She could understand the large dwarf’s worried and suspicious questions but calling her a little girl was a bit too much. The thief glares at him sharply, but he does not notice or does not care (she cannot tell which), he is entirely focused on the dwarf beside her.

 Quietly he began to explain to both Dwalin and Balin what has occurred. He leaves not a single detail out, beginning with her stealing from them early in the morning. This particular piece of information has Dwalin snarling at her angrily through bared teeth. She grumbles at him right back; she is not ashamed of what she has done or of what she is, she merely regrets the fact that she now has to return it.

 As his thorough tale concludes, he looks closely at his trusted companions. Balin is silent and pensive, hand stroking his beard in a continuous rhythm. Dwalin looks angrily at the woman, while she stares back with equal if not greater ire.

 “You,” began Dwalin, “This is all yer fault.”

 The dwarf is about to step in when she says, “My fault?” He decides his interference is not required as she goes head to head with the fiercest warrior he knows. She barely reaches Dwalin’s chin, but she points her finger at him with overabundant confidence. “I did not intend for this to happ-”

 “Ye were stealing and-”

 “Don’t interrupt.” Despite the shaking of her hands, the thief makes sure to keep her voice even and steady. She will not turn this into a yelling contest. “I was stealing, yes. However, that was my single intention: to steal your goods and to be on my way. That potion I had was never intended for myself. I may be a thief, but I am not a liar.” She pauses briefly, cooling herself down, “However, you may have whatever opinion you wish… oh Master Dwarf.” She bows her head at him mockingly, eyes never leaving his.

 They glare at each other, he doesn’t blink, neither does she. His teeth are set firmly, her fists are clenched tightly. “It does not matter if ye are a lass – If ye hurt anyone, or betray anyone, you will pay.” With that, Dwalin turns around and leaves.

 Balin does not follow. Dwalin’s outburst had its foundations but it had been somewhat too aggressive. Ever the peacekeeper, the older dwarf waves his hands in a placating manner, “Do not let him unsettle you lass. Dwalin, like most dwarves, is highly suspicious and untrusting.”

 “Yes. I’ve dealt with dwarves before.” Her voice has cooled considerably, but she can’t help but feel sheepish. Her own outburst had been unnecessary. Most likely the only effect she will have achieved in confronting Dwalin, will be to alienate him further from her and cause him to mistrust her even more. “I understand. And I also apologize. This is a quite the unfavorable situation, one we could all do without, but it is what it is. If it were not for this, I would be long gone with all I had stolen.” The two dwarves raise their brows at her; the one at her side going so far as to cross his arms over his chest but remaining quiet.  “But I will be returning everything I have taken as a sign of good will.”

 “You would have had to return it regardless of good will.”

 “True.” She shakes her head and looks back to Balin. He is kind enough to say nothing, offering her only a vague shrug of his shoulders. “True. But I am hoping that by returning it, I can introduce myself and begin relations a tad better than I just did with Master Dwalin.”

 He supposes it would be a start. The dwarf does not much care whether she gets along with his company or not but he knows it would make traveling easier if they did. This was to be their life now. At least until they met with Gandalf’s mysterious, but apparently very powerful friend. The thief at least seems open to adapting, a good trait, one he would do well to imitate. Like she had said, it is what it is and they would simply have to deal with it. So, he would. He had to. “Very well,” he finally says, arms still crossed over his chest and not quite looking at her, “That does seem to be the best manner in becoming part of the company.”

 The thief merely hums at him. She is willing away her disappointment. She has to make the best out of her situation and that means integrating herself into the social dynamic of her new companions. But that does not mean she only intends to make friends. No. She knows she must help and contribute in any way she can. The woman is not helpless and she would make sure they would not treat her as if she were. She refuses to be another load they have to carry. She can pull her own weight and then some. Besides, she muses thoughtfully, what if Gandalf’s friend is unable to help us as well? What if there is no solution? The thought is too dark to ponder for long. He will be able to help us… Until then she will strive to make amends and to live as peacefully with the thirteen dwarves, the hobbit and the wizard as she can.

  “What is your name, lass?”, says Balin after a long silence.

 His smile is comforting and genuine. Despite her many thoughts she gives them pause to reciprocate with a small smile of her own. “Sona. My name is Sona.”

 “Sona.” He smiles a little brighter as he says it. “Well Sona, despite the circumstance, allow me to formally welcome you to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

 “Thank you.” Thorin Oakenshield? He said it as though the name had some great significance. The name did sound familiar though, quite familiar. But she could not remember where she had heard it or why. Thorin Oakenshield… Thorin Oakenshield…

 She is about to shrug it off when it comes to her. Thorin Oakenshield?! Surely, not The Thorin Oakenshield… Not the prince of Erebor. Not the descendent of the line of Durin. Not the hero of Azanulbizar. Not the dwarf that had led his people to a prosperous life in Ered Luin… But then again, how many could there possibly be? Sona looks at Thorin and winces. It is undoubtedly him, The Thorin Oakenshield. The one she has heard so much about. How could I have been so stupid and blind? Her optimism withers, the horrible situation has gone from very bad to the absolute worst.

[mithrilhearts]

For your content creator stuff, @middleearthpixie writes some incredible ThorinxOC! content (and if you enjoy long fics, go find her!) with some truly incredible smut scenes. *Runs for a cold glass of water at the thought*

@i-did-not-mean-to has loads of Thorin/RA, and Ori content that she writes, as well as a college AU fic. I love her writing style to death!

@laurfilijames creates Fili content, which is a hard thing to find, and Fili always deserves more love. I have yet to read through some of her fics, but I know they'll be amazing.

@lathalea Boy, where to start? Champion for more Dwarrowdames in fanfiction, and the author of the famed (at least for me) All is Fair in Love & Trade. She is a master of angst, and sometimes I wonder if she just likes destroying our hearts. ;)

@fizzyxcustard She writes RA/Thorin stuff and while I still need to go and check it out, I've already read through some and they were incredible. I've also heard rumour about something along the lines of SeaQuest, which is something I've never heard of, but I've been meaning to take a look at.

@linasofia Father Quart & Naughty Thoughts. Need I say anything more? This is some QUALITY smut. Honestly, my bar for smut has been raised because of her, XD.

@kibleedibleedoo Yet another talented writer who's fics I need to read more of, but there are not enough hours in the day. But she wrote a Truth or Dare fic with the company that had me in tears of laughter.

@thewarriorandtheking Has a series with ThorinxOC! that is a crossover I believe. But I adored reading through it. She has some amazing writing talent!

@legolasbadass has some amazing ThorinxOC! works (I highly recommend Heart of Gold on A03) and is a master of yanking out my heartstrings and tying them into a knot.

@xxbyimm Has some fics that I read awhile ago, but I still remember "The Bet Series" (AKA how long can Thorin & Enya go without sex). And her humour has me rolling on the floor sometimes. (I'm looking at you, Drunk As A Skunk)

This turned out a bit longer than I expected, but oh well...

Thank you so much for the fantastic recommendations!! I'll be sure to check these out as I am sifting through all the wonderful content there is out there.

I know a great deal of these names and I can't wait to finally dive in to see what we have here!! 💜💜💜

[sailorsolar12]

Heir of Prophecy Chapter 4 - Thorin x OC

Hi guys. Here is the fourth chapter. I hope that you guys like it. Anyways, here is the small breakdown again of the story as well as the key to follow for the story.

Summary: While Jasmine, daughter of Apollo, is fighting one of Kronos’ minions, it sends her through a rift in the dimensional gate to the land of Middle Earth. More specifically: The Shire. She lands in front of the home of Bilbo Baggins as Gandalf the Grey is entering the small home. Clad in her normal wear as well as her weapons, the company of Thorin Oakanshield is hesitant to accept her. As the meeting drags on, she discovers a prophecy that lies on the map that belongs to Thorin. It is hen that Jasmine realizes that she is a part of something bigger than any daughter of Apollo has ever faced. As she travels all over Middle Earth in the company of dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard, she faces her fears and learns to rely on the help of unexpected friends. Through this journey she has become the Heir of Prophecy.

Rating: T at first. M later on for violence, swearing, and slight romance

Unofficial pairings: KillixTauriel and ThorinxOC

Please read, comment, vote, follow, and favorite. Thank you. Enjoy.

Note: I don’t own either one of these series! I mean come on guys…..I would be a billionaire and not have to worry about my finances all the time if I did! And Also here is a quick key that I will be using from now on:

Previously on HOP

Prophecies

*Flashback/Dream/Vision*

Song Lyrics (When i use them which will be scarecly)

Delphi’s Speech

(english translation of any Greek I use)

Previously on HOP Ch 3

Balin looked at Thorin’s nephews in sympathy. “Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

By the end of the story, the entire camp had awoke and was now standing in awe of Thorin as he began to pace back and forth between them and the fire.

Bilbo voiced the one thing that was bugging him. “But the pale orc? What happened to him?”

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin’s voice said with disgust in it.

Jasmine stared at Thorin and frowned to herself. He had gone through so much in his life, and yet he still wanted to reclaim his homeland. She knew for a fact that he would make a great king as the dwarves in this company follow him and will do so to the end of their days.

On another cliff across the valley, a group of Wargs and Orcs is there, spying on the Company. Yazneg, their leader, talks to the rest. “Send word to the Master. We have found the Dwarf-scum.”

Chapter 4

A few days later Jasmine hums softly to her music as the others look absolutely miserable in the rain. She sent a wink towards a few who looked back at her. “Celestine let’s go!” she called out as her steed took off. She loved flying in the rain.

Meanwhile on the ground, Dori looks at Gandalf hopefully. “Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?”

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard,” he replies.

“Are there any?” Bilbo suddenly asks.

“What?” Gandalf says slightly confused by his sudden question.

“Other wizards?” Bilbo clarifies.

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names,” Gandalf replies thoughtfully.

“And who is the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown.”

“Is he a great Wizard or is he...more like you?”

Gandlaf looks at him slightly offended. “I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

Jasmine’s laughter rang through the forest as she had heard Bilbo’s statement. She and Celestine landed, both of them sopping wet. She hummed softly as “Again” the first FullMetal Alchemist opening came on. She smiled and leaned down on Celestine. That gave the winged horse her single to start doing tricks in the rain causing the dwarves, hobbit, and wizard to stare in awe. She smiled as the next song, Heroes by Mans Zelmerlow, came on. Her voice rang out as she sang along with the song.

“Don't tell the gods I left a mess

I can't undo what has been done

Let's run for cover

What if I'm the only hero left

You better fire off your gun, once and forever

He said go dry your eyes and live your life like there is no tomorrow, son

And tell the others to go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

We are the heroes of our time

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-uh-o-o-o

O-oh-o-o-oh

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

The crickets sing a song for you

Don't say a word, don't make a sound

It's life's creation

I make worms turn into butterflies

Wake up and turn this world around in appreciation

He said I never left your side

When you were lost I followed right behind

Was your foundation

Now go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-uh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Now go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

Now sing together

We are the heroes of our time

(Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh)

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

(Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh)

We are the heroes of our time

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

We are the heroes.”

Jasmine looked down her eyes closed as the pain of losing her mother and many of her friends in battles came back to her. She silently let a single tear slide down her cheek, praying that they would be reborn for their heroic actions and even those who repented for their sins before they died in battle.

“So you have suffered great losses as well,” Gandalf stated.

She nodded and opened her eyes. “Many of my friends have suffered at the hand of the Titan Kronos. He has brainwashed many of my friends as well as killed many. Sometimes I feel as if that it has been so long ever since all of this has happened when it’s only been a couple of years since Kronos began his big moves. As the daughter of the god of prophecy I can understand the Great Prophecy more than others.”

“Great Prophecy?” Gandalf and many of the dwarves questioned.

“A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach sixteen against all odds

And see the world in an endless sleep,

The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap

A single choice shall end his days,

Olympus to preserve or raze.”

Jasmine looked at them and said in a very serious and slightly deadly tone, “One of the children of the oldest gods will be the one to save the world. Nico diAngelo is only twelve although a son of Hades. Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus is now a Hunter of Artemis and is immortal at 15. Percy Jackson is the only one who is destined to fulfill this prophecy. After analyzing this prophecy with my abilities as the Heir of Prophecy, I have come to a 90% conclusion that this prophecy talks about two people and not just one person. Because Kronos has yet to regain his full form, he has taken over the body of a very dear friend of mine, Luke Castellon. He is a son of Hermes who is also one of the oldest gods of the Olympian council.”

“But what is the cursed blade that the prophecy speaks of?” Thorin asks, his interest spiked by the information.

“The scythe of Kronos.” At her statement the sky seemed to darken even more. Lightning flashed multiple times, trying to tell Jasmine something. She looked up at the sky. “Gramps I ain’t done. I’m still explaining my theory to them. Jeez.” She rolled her eyes and looked at the group only for thunder to roar loudly. “I will Gramps. Love you too.” She took a deep breath to collect herself again and said, “Luke, Percy, and I have a special curse called the Curse of Achilles. It basically gives us skin of iron that cannot be penetrated except for one spot that links us to our mortality. This spot is the only spot in which we can be killed." She paused and took a breath. "Since Kronos is using Luke's body, if Luke's spirit is able to take over he may be the one to defeat Kronos. I'm not sure though. After all it is only a hunch.”

There was complete silence throughout the entire company. Thorin was the first to break the silence. “It seems that you are more useful than you let on. I am glad you came on this quest with us.” For the rest of the night the entire company was completely silent.

Jasmine placed her headphones back into her ear and listened to Heroes on repeat letting her vision become blurry but not letting her tears fall. The 18 year old demi-god felt eyes watching her as they came to a place to camp for the night. She looked behind her as she got off of Celestine and held the gaze of Thorin’s blue eyes. Jasmine could have sworn she saw unshed tears in his own eyes, but she turned around keeping to herself for the night taking a watch and staying up all night because she knew she’d have nightmares.

[legolasbadass]

I just posted "Chapter 32 - Misery and Treachery" for my story "Heart of Gold [Thorin Oakenshield]".

[thegoblinwitchqueen]

Every so often, my love for The Hobbit lurks over my shoulder as I find myself trying to desperately find inspiration to work on my active fics, gnawing obsidian claws against my brain—-begging for me to write a ThorinXOC fic. This was not what I asked for…when I asked for inspiration I meant for my current fics, not a new one 😵‍💫

[princecami]

I just feel jealous when I read ThorinxOc and ThranduilxOc?

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Hello hello! I'm your secret santa and I was wondering if you have a setting/scenario preference for some artwork? Happy end-of-November!

Hello!

Honestly, I've kinda forgotten what I put down for artwork *cue embarrassed facepalm* (I think it was ThorinxEstel or ThorinxOC, something like that) so going off my guesstimation, having the two characters on the quest doing something together, or even a hug/kiss/cuddle session sort of thing.

But honestly, whatever strikes your fancy!

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

His Treasure Booty, Her Hearty

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nDJW7j

by kkolmakov, Wynni

Pirate!AU Crack Fiction.

Beware of frolics and multi-fandom references!

Co-written with Wynni, and it means giggles and skittles, sassy female protagonists, and silliness all around. Also featuring an all female pirate crew, dashing Captain Thorington, couple peeps walking the plank, and lots of shivering timbers! Rated M for happy consensual hanky-panky later.

{ThorinxOC; FilixOC}

Words: 2178, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, pir - Fandom

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Thorin's Company, Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Dwalin (Tolkien)

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Original Female Character(s), Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Pirates, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, Golden Age of Piracy, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack Crossover, Fluff, Fluff and Smut

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nDJW7j

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Thorin’s Fate

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2SApjsQ

by PenLady

What is the Valar took pity on the exiled King, after all the loss and suffering he had endured. What if he was always meant to meet his One - just not on Middle Earth! One moment Thorin is on his Quest to reclaim Erebor, chased by Warg scouts, and then finds he saves a woman from the beast in a strange land. How will he ensure his heirs and quest are safe? ThorinxOC What if he was always meant to be with Shobha... just not on Middle Earth!

Words: 3369, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Thorin, Gandalf, Lady Galadriel, OC - Character, Fíli, Kíli, Tauriel, Dís

Relationships: ThorinxOC - Relationship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2SApjsQ

[leia-hill]

A quiet night during the journey to the Lonely Mountain. From left to right:Thorin, Ayrèn and Bilbo in front of a warm campfire, talking and smoking pipe after dinner (notice how Bilbo saved two more breads for himself... ! Haha !). A very nice and so lovely illustration! I commissionned the amazing @eggelo for this and he send me this gorgeous illustration like AGES ago, but I just don’t know why I forgot to post in on tumblr. @_@ I’m confused! Thank you again for this lovely commission, there’s a great atmosphere here and I love it. Please commission @eggelo! Such a nice artist! Here’s a link to the fanfiction behind it:

fanfiction.net : https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11332235/1/Drac%C3%A0-cwellere

AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492769/chapters/25780161

Aaaand the summary:

A woman warrior struck with anathema. An extraordinary journey to the Lonely Mountain. A choice between the life she leaves behind her and the adventure of a lifetime. Relive the epic quest of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield through the eyes of its fifteenth member: Ayrèn. Will she change the cruel fate of Durin’s sons?

[dragonqueen2021]

The King and The Dragoness: Chapter 3: The End...Part 2

(I'm sorry that this took so long to make, there is no excuse for it. All I can say is that college got really busy for me along with other life matters. It also took me a while to write this chapter since there is a death scene in this. Also the song that is sung by Valyria towards the end was generated by ChatGPT, I wanted to try this out for my story to see how it goes. If there is anything wrongly translated please let me know. Also this chapter is pretty freaking long, sorry about that. I have decided that there will be a Chapter 4: The End...Part 3 since this chapter would have been way longer if I didn't. Please enjoy and don't forget to comment down below, I would love to hear any ideas you guys may have. Anyway please enjoy and have a wonderful day, afternoon, evening or whatever.)

"Normal Speech"  

"Telepathy"  

'Thoughts/Thinking'  

"Angry/Yelling" 

Still Flashback:

In Hyperspace: 

Valyria’s POV:

My mind is blank as I stare out at the brightly passing lights that appeared as we traveled through hyperspace. I could hear people talking around me, but their voices sounded muffled as I tuned them out. My heart is pounding so fast it feels as though it is about to leap out of my chest. I still couldn’t believe what just happened, what I just witnessed. My home, taken from me right before my eyes. Tears began to fill my eyes, making them sting. Everything was gone, everything.  

‘Why…. Why did this have to happen? What did we do to deserve this?’, I thought as my lips began to tremble in sadness, anger, I did not know anymore. My grip on the armrest of my seat began to get tighter and tighter as my thoughts began to spiral downwards. ‘Did I anger someone into doing this? Did I cause this? Is it…my fault?’. 

I was brought out of my depressing thoughts to the shout of Ser Byran, my personal guard. I looked up just in time to see him catch my mother as she fell out of the co-pilot's chair. I felt my heart stop at the sight of her pale face, I noticed sweat covering her face and forehead in a thick layer. Her breathing was shallow and quiet. Suddenly, my father fell out of the pilot's chair. I sprung out of my chair and ran over to his side. I knelt down next to him and saw that he too had shallow, quiet breathing with his forehead covered in a thick layer of sweat. As I looked closer, I noticed that there was a large dark purple-looking bruise on his neck while the veins had turned a sickening black in his neck. I noticed that the black had spread up his neck towards his face and downwards towards the rest of his body. I felt myself freeze in terror at what I saw. I knew what this meant but I did not want to believe it. 

I looked up towards Ser Bryan who was still knelt at my mother's side. “Ser Byran could…could you look at my mother's neck and tell me what you see please?”, I asked softly. He looked up at me with confusion and was about to ask why but at my tearful eyes and pleading look he did as I asked. 

“What is wrong Valyria? What is wrong with Muña and Kepa?”, questioned Rhaerys but I ignored her question in favor of looking at Ser Byran and when he looked up at me after a moment, I knew that my mother was in the same boat as my father. 

I took a deep breath to help calm myself down enough to not let my tears flow, I had to be strong for my sisters. I let out the breath I was holding and looked up towards my sisters who all wore concerned expressions. “Kepa and Muña have been poisoned.”, I answered with a soft broken voice. The silence was deafening in the cockpit of the ship. I looked at my sister's expressions and was not surprised at what I saw because I knew it matched my own. An expression full of shock, despair, sadness, and anger. My hand trembled as I said, “We need to move them towards the medical bay. We must see if we can cure what is ailing them and if we cannot…then we must make them comfortable in their last moments.” My throat tightened up as I finished that horrible sentence. I saw the heartbroken and resigned look on my sister's faces, and it both broke my heart and set my blood afire. I felt the need to destroy those who have harmed my parents and who have caused my sweet sisters such despair and anguish. 

Shaking my head to rid myself of those thoughts and motioned for Ser Simon and Ser Colton, Maelenya’s and Naenyra’s personal guard, to help my father up and towards the med bay while Ser Byran scooped my mother up into his arms and followed the rest of us to the medical bay. It did not take us very long to arrive as we all walked at a fast pace but not fast enough to cause our mother and father too much pain. When we arrived, Ser Byran, Ser Simon and Ser Colton placed our mother and father on two beds that were beside each other. As I looked at our mother and father, I felt helpless as to what to do, I did not know where to start as I had no idea what type of poison had been used on them. I have never seen any type of poison like this before. Shaking myself out of my stupor I turned towards the others with a grim determination. 

“Rhaerys I want you to use Blood Magic to see what is ailing mother and father, we should be able to come up with an antidote once we know what is wrong.”. 

Rhaerys nodded her head towards me and approached mother and father. She grabbed a scalpel and made a cut on each of our parent's arms before placing one hand on each cut. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and a red glow appeared over each hand signaling that the spell had been cast. I watched my sister's face and expressions closely to see if I could gather anything based on her expressions. Suddenly her face twisted into a mixture of confusion and concern which in turn concerned not only me but everyone else. She quickly stepped away from them with a gasp as tears leaked from eyes. Quickly Maelenya, Naenyra and myself rushed to her side to comfort her from whatever has made her so distressed. 

“Sis, what happened? What have you found out?”, questioned Naenyra with concern evident in her tone. 

She trembled and more tears leaked out of her eyes as she answered, “I…I did not find anything. The poison is not like anything I have ever seen. It is fast acting and extremely aggressive. That’s all I could find out.”. 

“What are you saying, Rhaerys?”, asked Maelenya softly. 

“I’m saying that there is nothing we can do for them…Kepa and Muña…are going to die.”, she confessed as her tears began to pour out of her eyes. 

I stared at her brokenly as tears began to fall from my eyes. I could not - did not want to believe what I was hearing. I felt myself begin to tremble; my breathing began to get fast as I struggled to process this information. ‘They’re going to die. They’re going to die. Why them? What did they do wrong? What did we do wrong? Why are the Gods and Goddesses punishing us? WHAT DID WE DO WRONG?!?!’ I questioned mentally. This was not supposed to happen, everything was fine just a little while ago and now, now it is all ruined. 

I flinched as a hand suddenly appeared on my shoulder and I looked to my right to see my sister Rhaerys staring at me with a small broken smile on her face as tears too leaked from her eyes. “Come Val, we need to make sure they are comfortable until…until they pass.”, she said softly. I nodded my head as I just stared at her blankly and with that, we all began the task of making the King and Queen, our father and mother, Kepa and Muña, comfortable in their final moments. 

A Few Minutes Later: 

Rhaerys’s POV: 

I silently stood in front of one of the metal examination tables as I folded my mother and father’s old dirty and blooded clothes. We had just finished changing and washing our parent's wounds. We had taken off their armor, weapons and old clothes and changed them into soft shirts and pants to make them more comfortable. It still didn’t seem real; our parents are dying and there is nothing we can do to stop it. I clenched the dirty shirt in my hands as my thoughts began to wonder. ‘Why them? They are good people, good parents! They are a good King and Queen! So why them?’. 

I moved my gaze over to my twin and my youngest sister, Naenyra and Maelenya. They were both scrubbing down our parents' armor and weapons as they would need to be cleaned for the funeral that would be held when we arrived at our destination. I saw them quietly speaking to each other, and what they were conversing about I decided not to try and listen to as it was between them alone. I then moved my gaze over to my eldest sister Valyria who was sitting between our parents’ beds diligently wiping their foreheads free of any sweat that accumulated. I felt my heartbreak for our elder sister who I knew could not bring herself to leave our parents' sides. I knew she mostly was still struggling to process that they were dying like the rest of us were. It was heartbreaking for all of us, but I knew it was hitting Valyria differently. She is our Kepa and Muña’s first born child, the Heir to our houses and Kingdom, she is the Princess and future Queen to the entire Valyrian race. She knew that her time to become Queen was to happen soon but not this soon, not in this horrible and tragic way. Her coronation was supposed to be a beautiful and delightful day but now she has been robbed of that. She now has to face the reality that she will be Queen much sooner than she wishes and that she will have to do so without the help and guidance of our parents. 

I knew Valyria was trying to be strong for the rest of us, to not show weakness, to be the supportive and strong elder sister that she has always been to us but I could see the shakiness in her hands as she wiped the foreheads of our parents with a wet cloth, I could see the slight tremble of her lips as she desperately tried to hold back her tears. I could see the heartbroken and anguished look in her eyes as she stared at our parents' faces with a lost and hopeless look on her face. I felt my eyes well up with tears as I gazed at my elder sister, who is known to be strong, willful, hopeful, and loving now reduced to a mere shell of her former self due to the news that was delivered moments ago. I wanted so desperately to go over to her and comfort her, but I knew that my presence and comfort would not be appreciated right now.  

‘What could we have done to prevent this? Every last one of us was trained to fight and defend our home and yet we coward away in the ship waiting for Kepa and Muña to return to us. Why didn’t we do anything? Why didn’t I do anything to help?’. I was brought out of my depressing thoughts from the shout of Valyria. 

“Everyone! They’re waking up! They’re waking up!”. 

I quickly jogged over to their side along with everyone else. As I approached the beds, I saw that both mother and father’s eyes were badly bloodshot, to the point where the whites of their eyes were almost covered all the way. I felt my heart stop as I took in their condition, they were getting worse. I looked over at Naenyra and Maelenya, who stood with all of our personal guards, to see that they too were pale in the face with wide anguished eyes. I finally turned my sights to Valyria and what I saw made my heart break and my stomach become tied in knots. I had never seen my elder sister look so defeated and lost. She was holding their hands with a blank, broken gaze in her eyes while she bit her lower lip to hold back her tears. I could see she was struggling to hold back her tears and cries, to be strong not only for us but for our parents now. I saw our Kepa was opening his mouth, but his throat must have been dry as he was struggling to speak. I signaled for Ser Arvin, my personal guard, to get our Kepa a glass of water. 

In no time Ser Arvin was back with the glass of water and handed it to Valyria, as she is the one sitting closest to our parents. I watched as she helped sit our Kepa up and drink the water. Once he downed the water, he looked over towards the rest of us and motioned for us to approach. We all gathered around our parents and waited for him to start. 

“I am relieved to see all of you safe and sou - *cough* *cough* - sound. How long have your mother and I been out?”, he questioned hoarsely. 

“You have been out for a little while but not that long Kepa. We are all safe now…thanks to you and Muña.”, I replied softly. 

“Good, I’m glad. There seems to be something that you aren’t telling us though.”, our mother suddenly replied. We all looked over to her and saw she was sitting up too. 

“What aren’t you telling us little ones?”, softly questioned our father. We all looked towards each other before Valyria took a deep breath and turned her gaze towards our father. 

“We have discovered that Muña and you have been poisoned Kepa, there…there is no cure. Forgive me Kepa, I have failed. Forgive me please.”, pleaded Valyria as a few tears escaped her eyes. I took a step towards her to comfort her, but father and mother beat me to it. Father pulled her into his side while mother carefully leaned over and rubbed her hand over her arm to help calm her down. 

“It is my fault you are both like this, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I should have gone with both of you to help, I should have helped evacuate the Kingdom better instead of sitting around and doing nothing. I should-” 

“Tala this isn’t-” 

“I failed as your Heir Kepa. I failed as the princess-” 

“Dear One, this is not your fault. You could not have done anything-” 

“YES IT IS!!”, shouted Valyria causing everyone to flinch away from her. “It is my fault! I was not there when I needed to be. I failed as a Princess, as the future Queen as our people! I failed as your Heir Kepa! I failed as your daughter! This is my fault, if I had been there Muña and you would not be like this!” 

“ENOUGH VALYRIA THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT!!”, exclaimed our father finally getting Valyria to stop her rant. Valyria stared at our father with her mouth wide open and tears slowly running down her face. 

“This is not your fault Issa byka zaldrīzes. You have to believe your Muña and I, this is not your fault. You have not failed as my Heir or as the future Queen of our people and you most certainly have NOT failed us as our daughter Valyria!”, our father softly said to Valyria as he kissed her head and as our mother continued to rub her arm and softly murmur words of comfort in Valyrian. At this point Valyria was beginning to calm down, though her breathing was still slightly erratic from her earlier rant. 

After a moment of Muña and Kepa soothing Valyria she finally calmed down even though some tears fell from her eyes. I knew that even though she let out a part of what she was feeling there was still more to come from her, and I knew that when our parents finally passed, which would be soon, everything that she was bottling would finally be released and everyone would need to be prepared for that. I was brought out of my observations by the sounds of our parents coughing horrendously. I looked at them to see that they were coughing quite badly but what scared me the most was the blood I saw coming out as they coughed. Springing forward I grabbed a spare cloth on a tray in front of me and wiped our mother's mouth while Valyria wiped our father's mouth. It took a few moments for them to stop coughing, but when they did, I shared a concerned look with Valyria, and I knew that the time left with our parents was ending sooner than we thought. 

As I looked closer at our parents, I noticed that their skin was even paler than before, their entire body was caked in sweat now and their eyes were entirely red. I let out a shuddering breath as it hit me that they were going to die now. I knelt down next to our mother and took her hands in mine as I let the tears fall. I heard Naenyra and Maelenya approach as well as they stood next to Valyria and I. A gentle hand lifts my chin up and I was met with the sad but smiling face of our mother. As I looked at her, I saw in her eyes that she accepted that her time was up, even though she did not wish to leave us. As I looked towards our father, I saw that he too accepted his fate. Balerion has come for them and no matter how much I do not want them to go, nobody can escape the God of Death himself.  

“You cannot leave us Kepa, Muña. Please.”, pleaded Maelenya. 

“There is nothing we can do Mae, Balerion has decided that it is their time to go. We have to accept that no matter how much we do not want them to go.”, answered Naenyra softly. Even though her answer was logical, and her tone was soft I could hear the heartbreak in every word she said.  

“Now I know all of you are greatly upset by this, but you MUST listen to me right now My Loves. You and those left of our people are headed for a new world, this world is your new beginning. You are not to go back to our old home. It is not safe there any longer.”, instructed our mother. 

“What are you talking about Muña?”, I questioned. ‘What does she mean by not returning?’. 

She sighed as she adjusted herself to get comfortable. “Many, many years during the days before I birthed your sister Valyria, I had been having strange dreams. Dreams that showed the destruction of our home. At first, I thought them to be irrational fears or nightmares caused by the stress of ruling and pregnancy but then I began to realize what was happening. I was having Dragon Dreams-”, she then began coughing violently once more. I quickly gave her a cloth to cough into and once she was done there was even more blood than before. She gave a sad smile before continuing her tale. 

“As I was saying, I was having Dragon Dreams. I did not know why I was having such dreams, but I was. I did not let your father know until after the birth of Valyria. From there on we both tried to decipher the meaning of my dreams and how we could prevent the destruction of our home. Sadly, it seems as though the destruction of our home could not have been prevented no matter what we tried. In the end we have learned that we were betrayed by one of our own.” 

I felt my stomach drop when she finished. Our home was always meant to be destroyed it seems, but the worst part was that one of our own betrayed their own people! How could someone do such a thing? 

“Who? Who betrayed us?”, whispered Valyria. I could practically hear the fury hidden in her soft voice. 

“It…It was Jaehaenar Maentalor.”, timidly answered our father.  

Suddenly Valyria began to curse in Valyrian, startling all of us as she did not typically curse at all. I could practically feel the fury and anger coming off her body in waves. I wanted so badly to calm her down, but I knew better. Valyria, when angry, was extremely dangerous and not to be messed with.  

“Relax Valyria, you cannot do anything to Jaehaenar. He is dead.”, declared father weakly. 

“Your father is right, Jaehaenar was killed by none other than Josian Toyne. The cowards worked together to destroy our home. They knew right where to hit the Kingdom to make it collapse. I know you are feeling vengeful Valyria, but you must know that there is NOTHING that you can do now for our former home. You have to make a new home for the people and for yourselves. The hard truth is that your father and I will not be here to help rule now Valyria. YOU will be Queen Valyria and you…you must…be ready…for…that time is now.”, mother trailed off as she suddenly slid down the bed as her breathing rapidly began to slow. 

“Mother!”, we exclaimed as we sprung to her side. 

“It is…no use My Loves…the poison has spread throughout our entire body. Rhaegon…My Love…we must say goodbye.”  

“You…You are right Valerys. My beautiful girls come here.”, he pleaded. Naenyra, Maelenya and myself gathered around our father and mother with Valyria in the middle. 

“Now listen closely My Dears -*cough* *cough*- you must look out for one another, you four are what’s left of your mother and I. Take care of each other, help each -*cough* *cough*- help each other grow.”

“Maelenya, my youngest and most gentle daughter, never change who you are -*cough*- for the sake of others. You are the most peaceful one of the bunch but that does not make you weak. You are the voice of reason amongst your sisters. You have your mother’s gentle spirit, even if she will say she is anything but gentle. I remember when you were young, Valyria would bring you with her to some council meetings -*cough*- and you would sit there listening so intently for one so young. When you would speak up everyone would listen to you closely for you have the gentlest of voices, a voice blessed by the Gods and Goddesses to hypnotize those around. You would come up with the most simple and peaceful of solutions when the council could not agree on a matter. I know that you will use that peaceful nature of yours to help your sister rule our people well, you will help be the voice of reason during battle, you will help keep the peace during Valyria’s reign. You will be Maelenya The Peaceful.” 

“Naenyra, the youngest of my twins, you are the one who is most connected to the animals and plants surrounding us. You -*cough* *cough*- You have a way with animals unlike anything I have ever seen. You helped take care of the animals in our former Kingdom and gave them a better quality of life. I remember that from an early age every animal that was in your presence seemed drawn to you. Never have I seen any animal be more peaceful than with you. You could tame even the fiercest of lions or tigers, calm the wildest of horses with your gentle touch. You rode your first horse at the age of 7, a feat not even I was able to accomplish. I remember the first magic -*cough* *cough* *cough*- you wished to master was Beast Taming magic. When you finally mastered it the joy on your face was so infectious it caused everyone you told to feel the same joy as you. With the help of this magic, you connected with the animals around us and helped others understand that the creatures in our Kingdom were not just animals but living beings who had thoughts and emotions just like us. You helped others understand that the livestock which became our food in the end needed to be thanked for their sacrifice so that we could. You would spend so many hours among the animals that you would come home caked in mud, grass stains on your clothes and other things that we will not mention, hahahaha. With such an incredible magic mastered I know that you will tame even the most ferocious beast on the new world we are heading to. You will be Naenyra; The Tamer of Beasts.” 

“Rhaerys, the eldest of my twins, you are the most levelheaded of your siblings. Known for your calm demeanor and rational decisions. Even when egged on by an arrogant Lord or Lady you would never raise your voice at them but instead would stab them with the sharp words that came from your mouth. So clever and smart you are. You would disguise your insults to others in words sugarcoated with a false sweetness and kindness, everyone but us was fooled when you did this. You, My Dear, will be an amazing advisor to your sister, I just know it. *cough* *cough* Oh, Rhaerys I remember when you would pretend to be the future Hand for Valyria. You would always talk in this deep and commanding voice, making your mother and I laugh as you did so. At first, I thought it was some childish fantasy that you were creating but as you got older you really did become that future Hand. Whenever you sit in on the council meetings with Valyria and I, I watch as you observe every movement made by anyone, hang onto every word spoken by either myself, Valyria or the Lords and Ladies of the Council. I watched as you became the future Hand to the Queen through your own ways, not taught by me but by yourself. You have grown exponentially. I cannot tell you how proud I was when you found your voice for the first time in the Council. I remember it like it was yesterday, Lady Bara had been ranting on and on about her ideas to better the situation with the Solyra people, her ideas were outrageous in general, but nobody could get a word in between her rants. Finally, it seemed as if your sister had had enough and when she began to speak, I recall Lady Bara had interrupted her AND insulted -*cough* *cough* *cough*- insulted her. The silence in the meeting room was deafening and the rage I felt was indescribable but before I could speak you stood up so quietly and calmly as if nothing were wrong. Then you opened your mouth and unleashed a tongue lashing I had only seen your mother do. You spoke so calmly and steadily but everyone could hear the rage hidden in your words. The way Lady Bara’s face paled at each word you spoke was so amusing I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling in both amusement and pride. When you finally finished, I remember the way you calmly dismissed her from the Council room and when she refused to leave the way you ordered the guards to drag and throw her out was the best thing that had happened all day. I was SO proud of you -*cough*- in that moment Rhaerys. From that moment on I just KNEW that you were destined to become Hand of the Queen for your sister. I know now that this is the role you were made for My Dear. You will be Rhaerys, The Hand of the Queen.” 

The trembling of my lips became more aggressive as our father said his final words to us. I could see the tears falling from my sister’s eyes. I knew they were struggling to hold in their sobs and cries for I too was in the same shape. Hearing our father struggling to say his final words was rough but seeing him cough out blood as he did so was heartbreaking. But through this, he kept a smile on his face with love and pride in his eyes as he looked at each of us as he addressed us. Finally, he moved his gaze over to Valyria and I knew this was going to be rough on both him and Valyria. The bond they shared was indescribable. I moved closer to Valyria and placed a hand on her shoulder, seeing me do this, Maelenya and Naenyra did the same as well. We would be our sisters' support through this. 

“Valyria…My sweet, sweet Valyria. My Heir and eldest child. Forgive me Tala for the pain my words have caused your sisters, forgive me for the pain I am about to cause y -*cough* *cough*- you. The first time I laid eyes on you when you were born was the happiest moment of my life. You looked so small as I held you in my hands, I feared I was going to hurt you if I even moved the slightest bit. The moment when our eyes first locked, I knew that you were destined for remarkable things. Have I ever told you why your mother and I named you Dragonborn?” 

She shook her head at his question causing him to let out a weak chuckle before continuing. 

“We named you Dragonborn because on the day of your birth a baby dragon was hatched by Jaehaenar Maentalor.” 

My eyes widened in shock at his admission. I could see the same shock in the other's eyes as well for the very idea seemed ludicrous for dragons have not been hatched in centuries. How could Jaehaenar Maentalor manage to have hatched one? 

“I know, I too was just as shocked as you at the time as was your mother. Sadly, the hatchling did not survive more than a day. Your mother and I did not even come up with your name in all honesty. An incredibly old friend of ours did, Rosie Mervillian was her name. She was a servant for your mother and I, she was the one to come up with your name.” 

“What happened to her?”, weakly questioned Valyria but he just shook his head. 

“My beautiful girl, how proud I am to have seen you grow into the wonderful and beautiful women you have become. You have made me SO proud, it has brought me so much joy to see you grow up into the beautiful Queen that you will be. I am sorry your mother and I will not be here to see you become Queen. I love your sisters so VERY much, but you are my first born, my baby girl, my little Dragonborn. *cough* *cough* I remember when you first sat on the Throne with me as I met with some delegations, you were smiling so noticeably big that I was afraid your cheeks would be sore afterwards. You sat on my lap as we talked, you were so silent I was worried that you had fallen asleep but when I looked down, I saw that you were watching the proceedings with great interest for one so young. I remember when you first began your training with weapons and magic, I was beyond worried you would get hurt but in the end, I had nothing to worry over for you excelled at everything your mother and I threw at you. The first time you beat me in a sword match, I cannot tell you how proud I was and when you mastered your first magical ability the joy and happiness that radiated from you was something I will always remember. Your strength and magical capabilities know no bounds; you can become something this world has never seen. With your sisters at your side, I know for a fact that you will be an amazing Queen -*cough* *cough* *cough*. This world you and your sisters are traveling to will not know what hit them, you have the power to change whatever stands in your way. I know you fear the power you hold inside of you but please, do not be afraid to let your power flow through, do not be afraid to let your inner dragon out Valyria. The power you hold inside of you will -*cough*- change the world as you know it. Your mother has foreseen you standing above your fallen enemies with chains and collars thrown at your feet. She says she could hear people calling you a strange phrase we have never heard. Amadel, is what they called you. Your mother saw the people reaching out to you with love and hope shining in their eyes. She foresaw a strange man with long inky black hair with the bluest eyes standing just behind your shoulder, staring at you with the deepest love and adoration shining in his eyes. She foresaw you kneeling as a crown is placed upon your head with an army of dragons behind you, roaring as one. You, my dearest girl, are meant for something bigger than you can imagine. You will be Valyria, The Mother of Dragons.”. 

As he finished, I looked at Valyria to see she had her head bowed with her shoulders shaking violently as she brought her and father’s connected hands to her forehead. I could hear her breathing hitch now and again as she stifled her cries of sorrow. I along with the others squeezed her shoulders in a show of silent support. I knew that the heartbreak and anguish we were feeling was bad but compared to Valyria ours was nothing. She silently shook her head in despair. I suddenly felt a hand on my arm, and I turned my head to see our mother looking at us sadly with a smile on her face. 

“Muña.”, I gasped, which caught the attention of the others. 

“Do not despair My Little Loves. I know this is hard for you all but know that your father and I will be watching you from The Dragon Garden’s. Your father has said enough on both of our behalf's, I love you four so very much. Always be true to yourself My Loves, do not change who you are for the sake of others. My little Maelenya, do not ever let others bring you down. As your father said, you are the voice of reason amongst you all. Stay true to that and you will be led astray. I personally sealed away the books containing the history and meetings of Aedar Targaryen The Just. I know you admired him for his peaceful and just solutions. They were -*cough* *cough*- were hard to find during the attack but I saved them just for you. Oh Naenyra, for you I sealed away every animal on Senetera. I had this planned a long time ago when the signs that our Kingdom was going to be attacked. That 5 year trip I made by myself all those years ago? Well, this is the reason for it. When you began mastering the Beast Taming Magic, I just knew I had to make the trip. Do not worry Dear the animals are all safe inside the scrolls. The scrolls have been customized by me so that the animals stay asleep until they are released from the scrolls. I had them hidden away in your father and I’s bedchambers. Along with the scrolls are journals containing all the knowledge on the animals and what habitats would be best suited for them. For you Rhaerys, I have -*cough*- sealed away the journals and books containing the knowledge from all the Hand’s of the King or Queen that came before your father and I. You can use their knowledge to help better yourself as a Hand of the Queen. In the journals are their thoughts and secrets on what makes a successful Hand. Your father had them stored away specifically for you. I know you will use them wisely. Finally, for you Valyria, I have sealed away every single journal and book that contains knowledge on the Kings and Queens that preceded you. They contain their innermost thoughts, feelings, and ideas. With their knowledge you can help make yourself a better ruler. But I had done this years prior, your real gift from me, and to your sisters, are all the dragon eggs I found stashed away in the Treasury.”. 

I felt my breath leave me as she finished. ‘Dragon eggs? How is this possible?’. I could see the same question in my sister’s eyes as well. This almost did not sound real. 

“How is this-”, began Valyria but mother interrupted her. 

“I do not know how, when, or why but all I know is that YOU are destined to hatch them Valyria along with your sisters. Your father is right -*cough* *cough*- I had Dragon Dreams of your future. You have always been fascinated by dragons and have had a deep connection with our history with them. This -*cough* *cough* *cough*- fascination and connection is what makes you the Mother of Dragons in my dreams. I know our history says that a Valyrian is only able to bond with one dragon, but you were destined to bond with many dragons not just one. *cough* *cough* The Gods and Goddesses have big plans for you Valyria but just know that your sisters will stand with you till the very end. I am sorry that we must leave you so soon My Loves but know we will be watching you every step of the way.” 

When she finished, she laid back down and reached out to us. I held her hand along with the others and a soft sob finally escaped my throat. I heard Maelenya and Naenyra begin to softly sob as well but when I did not hear Valyria’s cries, I looked over to see that she had her head down with her eyes squeezed shut and gritting her teeth to keep her cries from escaping. I felt both irritation and anguish course through my blood at my sister refusing to sob and cry in front of us, still trying to be strong in front of everyone. I looked around me and noticed that Ser Arvin and the others too had tears falling from their eyes, but they had their heads bowed in respect to our dying parents. 

“Could you - *cough* *cough*- sing Valyria? Sing anything Dear One. Sad, Happy, Joyful, whatever you wish -*cough*- just please sing.”, pleaded our father. 

“Please Valyria sing for us…”, agreed our mother. 

I saw Valyria tense up for just a split second before she nodded her head. When she lifted her head, I felt as if my stomach had dropped to the floor. Her face had tears running down it, like all of us, but what really got me was the dead, defeated and haunted look in her eyes. It looked as if she were truly dead, no light shined in her eyes, but I could see just the tiniest hint of determination in them as well, determination to fulfill our parents' last wish. I watched as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For a moment there was silence, only broken by our parents' soft and labored breathing, then she began to sing. 

Verse 1: 

“Jagon sōvegon, zȳhon ondor 

Nādīnagon, jārodas ozor 

Kȳndravegon, se zōbrie ondor 

Zaldrīzot, āeksia ossēnātās” 

Chorus: 

“Sōvegon, sōvegon 

Zȳhon lēdys, jagon sōvegon 

Sōvegon, sōvegon 

Zaldrīzot lēdys, jagon sōvegon” 

Verse 2: 

“Nādīnagon, jēdaris ossor 

Se ozārȳla, se zȳhys raqiros 

Kessa lī zijo, ziry rijas 

Zaldrīzot, āeksia ossēnātās” 

Chorus: 

“Sōvegon, sōvegon 

Zȳhon lēdys, jagon sōvegon 

Sōvegon, sōvegon 

Zaldrīzot lēdys, jagon sōvegon” 

As she sang, her soft but sad voice brought a whole wave of new tears to my eyes. The song itself was beautiful but sad, it was meant for funerals or…or when you sang someone to sleep until Balerion came for their souls. It was what she was doing right now. As she continued to sing, I watched our parents’ faces, I saw smiles appear on their faces, I saw peace finally take over the pain that previously occupied them. Finally, as Valyria finished the chorus I watched as our parents breathed their last breath. They had finally passed on, with smiles on their faces. 

Translations: 

Muña-Mother 

Kepa-Father

Tala-Daughter 

Issa byka zaldrīzes-My little dragon

Amadel-???(find out later in the story) 

Song: (song was generated by ChatGPT, sorry for any mistakes I just wanted to try it out)

Verse 1: 

Jagon sōvegon, zȳhon ondor-Gone forever, lost in time 

Nādīnagon, jārodas ozor-Never returning, swallowed by the earth 

Kȳndravegon, se zōbrie ondor-Disappeared, without a trace 

Zaldrīzot, āeksia ossēnātās-The dragon sleeps, in eternal rest 

Chorus: 

Sōvegon, sōvegon-Gone forever, gone forever 

Zȳhon lēdys, jagon sōvegon-Forever lost, gone forever 

Sōvegon, sōvegon-Gone forever, gone forever 

Zaldrīzot lēdys, jagon sōvegon-The dragon sleeps, in eternal rest 

Verse 2: 

Nādīnagon, jēdaris ossor-Never returning, fading away 

Se ozārȳla, se zȳhys raqiros-To the land of the dead, to the realm of shadows 

Kessa lī zijo, ziry rijas-In the darkness, weeping souls 

Zaldrīzot, āeksia ossēnātās-The dragon sleeps, in eternal rest 

Chorus: 

Sōvegon, sōvegon-Gone forever, gone forever 

Zȳhon lēdys, jagon sōvegon-Forever lost, gone forever 

Sōvegon, sōvegon-Gone forever, gone forever 

Zaldrīzot lēdys, jagon sōvegon-The dragon sleeps, gone forever 

[everything-the-hobbit]

Turn of Events

Chapter 6

Emmalin had no time to protest as Thorin lifted her out of her chair and started to walk towards a door. Great, where does that lead to?

“Please, I think I just want to go to bed—”

“Perfect! That’s exactly where we’re headed!”

“No, I mean my bed.”

“I can return you there tomorrow.”

“My ankle is bothering me—”

Emmalin was cut off by Fili who stopped Thorin from walking through the door. He accused his uncle of being drunk, which he clearly was, and that she needed to rest. Instead of listening to his nephew, he just became angry and walked through the door anyway.

Thorin swayed a bit as he carried her up the spiraled stairs. “I was just wondering,” Emmalin started to say.

“Aye,” Thorin urged her to continue.

“What was the celebration for?”

“Orc pack—they were too close to my kingdom and taken care of. We always hold a celebratory feast when we take those bastards out.” They continued up the stairs and Thorin still staggered all over the steps. “Where is my room? I feel like I’ve been walking in circles.”

Thorin adjusted his arms under Emmalin, with one of his hands grasping her buttocks. Emmalin’s breath hitched, but she didn’t think much of it. He was drunk, after all. “Why are you bringing me to your room?” she asked.

Before he replied, he pushed open the door he stopped in front of. He walked her in and placed her on his bed. “Tell me, Emmalin, do you not like the attention of a King? You should be honored,” he gruffly said.

Emmalin sat with her hands in her lap. She couldn’t help but watch him take off his royal clothing, layer by layer. He turned around quickly, and smiled when he caught her staring. She looks down at her fidgeting hands. She kept her eyes down at the sound of him walking over to her.

She then felt a finger under her and he lifted her head up to meet his eyes.

“Why me,” Emmalin whispered. She was lost in his strikingly blue eyes.

He smirked and replied with, “Why not you?” His calmness left in a flash as he lifted her from under her armpits and threw her to the middle of the bed. She tried to sit up and leave, but he crawled on top of her and sat on his knees. His weight was holding her down.

“Please, I beg of you! You’re drunk!”

“You come into my kingdom and being as beautiful as yourself, thought you could wander right under my nose? You didn’t think I would notice you? Come, Emmalin, relax….need I remind you that I own everything in my kingdom.” When he finished speaking, he started to undo the string on his trousers.

“I’m a virgin!” she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that it might change the situation.

“Who better than a King to take your innocence? I’ll make sure to go easy on you,” his words slurred a bit.

“Or you could just bring me back to my room, pl—” Thorin suddenly fell on top of her. He fell asleep!

Emmalin was relieved as she pushed the dwarf king off her. She wanted to make the voyage back to her room, but her ankle was throbbing ferociously. ���Well, it looks like I’m staying here for the night,” she said sadly, glancing over at the drunken king who was out.

She crawled to the top of the bed and got under the sheets. Thorin barely moved as he slept at her feet. She hoped that when she woke up in the morning that either he was still down at her feet or gone. Strangely, though, there was a small part in her that wished he continued—just not so rough.

She smiled and shook her head. “I have the attention of a King,” she mocked, “I should be honored!” Thorin snored in a sort of response. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. “Goodnight, my King,” she finally said before dosing off.

Her eyes opened due to the sun spilling into the room, half blinding her. She looked down at her feet and saw that Thorin was gone. Was he just going to leave her in his room? She didn’t want to test her ankle. How is she supposed to get back in her room?

She started to sit up, then yelped as an arm came out from no where and pulled her back down. He never left! He must have waken when she was still asleep and crawled in next to her.

“Don’t go, you’re very warm on this cold morning,” he told her, cuddling up next to her.

She felt the need to check if she was still clothed—which thankfully she was, along with Thorin.

“I’m sorry for my actions last night, Emmalin. I hope you can forgive me, I would appreciate if you would.”

“Nothing happened and that’s all that matters. Maybe your should lay off the beer,” she joked, which Thorin replied to with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, but I doubt that’ll happen. Mahal! I forgot!” Thorin threw the sheets off him and got up to walk over to his wardrobe. He quickly started to pull an outfit together.

“What?” Emmalin asked, sitting up, successfully this time.

“I have a meeting with my cousin today. I’m sorry, Emmalin, I cannot bring you to your room. I’ll have one of my men bring you back.” As he threw open the door to leave, he turned to her one last time and added, “I really hope I can get to know you.”

“You better hurry before you’re even more late,” she said to him. He nodded and closed the door behind him.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Emmalin said.

The door opened to reveal Fili, a sad expression was painted on his face.

——————————————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for all the likes and comments on the previous chapters! This’ll be the last one for a while until I can come up with the next few chapters. I’ve decided to add another female character to interact with Thorin so that Fili can spend some more time with Emmalin. I feel poor Fili kind of needs this. Stay tuned for a turn of events! Ha, see what I did there? I’ll stop talking now......

As always, Happy Reading! 🤓