#Thorinxoc

[gwen-ever]

Only a Man

PART 1/2

A/N: I dont think I need to exaplai why i wanted to write this, i will just say to you that the line Thorin says to Bilbo with Disgust in Laketown “This Master Baggins is the world of Men” helped me a lot. And it was part of the amazing @band--psycho​ challenge for her 1k followers, but i have never had the chance to finish it and as you can see it has a lot to finish. The sentence was “ “It’s pretty hot when you get bossy in bed.” and the character was Thorin...i added a friend lol.

Summary: Thorin needs to talk with Dwalin after a long day, and not finding hium in his chambers he goes to the only place where Dwalin could be, but as soon as he opens the door he undestands why his bestfriend was so hard to find, and he si not happy about it.

Warnings: smut,explicit,threesome,mutual masturbation,consensual Sex,grinding,khuzdul dirty talk,watching Thorin (at first),Ered Luin,young Thorin,young Dwalin,fantastic racism.

Words: 4148

Pairing: ThorinxOCxDwalin

Not a single soul was to be found on the streets of the city carved out of the rock at that late hour. Perhaps he was the only dwarf after all the exhausting hours of that damned day who could still stay awake or find the strength to walk through those narrow tunnels late at night. But because it had been such an exhausting day, he felt the need to get it over with as quickly as possible and to assert his right to throw himself between the sheets of his bed and sleep for the few hours he was allowed to. Talking to that one dwarf, however, seemed an impossible task that night, Dwalin was not at his home. Thorin had spent nearly ten minutes there, knocking incessantly on his door, and so now he found himself walking to the only place Dwalin could be found at that hour: the forges, their forge, the only place in the Ered Luin that they had managed to build without a hitch in the twenty years they had been there, the only place where Thorin could feel a little less like a king in exile than he already did.

After all that time Thorin still felt like one, a young king in exile, even if he was not a king at all. It had only been a few years that they had been in the Blue Mountains, yet, he already felt the weight of time on his shoulders, already felt old even though he was not.

Even though Thorin was not a king, he was treated like one and the dwarrowdams saw him as one.

He had noticed it long ago, how they looked at him, how they longed for him, how after a night spent in the sheets of an inn or at worst pressed up against the rough walls of a corridor, they worshipped him as such. They called him king while he was on top of them and inside of them and he loved it. But then they all ended up wanting more than one night from him, and he wasn't willing to give them that. A wife wasn't something he wanted.  He could do without the warmth of a woman's thighs if it meant bonding and he didn't want to bond, a loss he would never suffer again of that Thorin was sure.

Breathing heavily and now feeling his nerves on edge, he turned his head as he infiltrated the corridors of the market, now completely emptied: the long sheets that decorated the tunnels, from coloured were just bland, dark spots above his head as were the carved windows at the side of the corridors. He turned a corner towards the craftsmen's area and amidst the bluish gloom, a bright light from a window caught his eye, causing him to look up at the only unmarked door in the entire underground marketplace: Dwalin was indeed in the workshop.

What in Durin's name was he doing there in the middle of the night?

Moved by fatigue and impatience, Thorin lengthened his stride, lifting the sleeves of his blue shirt to his elbow, sighing, and without even waiting for a signal or knocking, he opened the door to the forge.

What he saw certainly didn't astonish him, but it did impress him enough to keep his hand clawed at the wooden door handle.

The entire forge was barely illuminated by the orange light from the furnace still crackling at the back of the room, creating sharp shadows on the stone floor and giving him a perfect view of the spectacle that was unfolding on the table at the side of the forge where he worked almost every day.

On the wooden plank next to the anvil, once covered with tools now completely thrown on the floor, two moaning figures were clinging together, rubbing their half-naked bodies against each other and making the wood beneath them creak with every single movement.

Dwalin was holding a woman sitting with her legs spread above the table, clutching at her buttocks under her skirt with both his hands. His tongue almost completely shoved down her throat, while she was moaning softly into his mouth, clutching at his bare ash-stained hips with both her legs. It was not at all difficult for Thorin to notice her hand inside Dwalin's breeches and how it moved slowly up and down, so slowly that the king felt a shiver of frustration run down his spine.  

For some strange and absurd reason, he found himself entranced for the first time by this scene that he had seen happen more than once in other situations with other dwarrowdams, but a sudden low squeak from the woman stopped his gaze on the small naked body clinging to the doubly larger one of his best friend.  

Thorin could not tear his eyes away or even cough to make himself noticeable, he clenched his jaw and his hand around the knob, finding himself subduing a growl in his chest and a heavy breath soon after.

He ran his eye from the small, slow hand hidden inside the brown fabric to her arm exposed by the transparent soutane. He ran his gaze over the full chest clearly visible through the transparent fabric to the backward sloping neck that allowed Dwalin to pounce on one of her breasts like an animal. He bit it with such force that he blocked her hand's movements inside his trousers and made her moan his name in such a sensual way that Thorin could hear that moan inside his loins and in his goal that suddenly became as dry as the crotch of his trousers tight, annoying him.

Damn.

He clenched his legs together, blocking the hand that was already going to rest between them to hide his bulge: now was not the time, there was something else to think about and then he would be going to take a cold bath as soon as Dwalin gave him a look.

But Dwalin didn't seem to cooperate, nor did Thorin's eyes, which widened as the female's back bent backwards, pulling the fabric of her.

petticoat down revealing both of her breasts.

Dwalin squeezed her buttocks, dropping his mouth even further down and grabbing a nipple left bare by the fabric with his teeth, making her almost squeal as he began to torture it with his teeth. And it was at that moment that Thorin had a full view of the face of the creature for whom his friend was not even looking at him: the smooth skin, the taut shoulders, the small neck, the unruly brown hair so long they touched the table, the half-closed eyes filled with small tears, the flushed cheeks devoid of hair, as well as her mouth wide open with pleasure with the outline devoid of any kind of beard.

And it was that last detail that was more powerful than any cold bath ever could have been. Thorin's hand, which by now had moved on its own to his annoying erection grasping it through his trousers, suddenly moved away and clenched into a fist at the side of his thigh. He felt his trousers get looser, the pulse in his throat slow and the disgusting rise.

A human, Dwalin was banging a filthy human inside their forge.

A female human.

He gripped the door handle hard enough to feel it go into the palm of his hand, and violently slammed the door shut behind him, looking away from the human to Dwalin who, unlike him, was far from disgusted as he continued to suck on her breasts as if he were a hungry bairn.

He didn't even seem to realise he'd walked in but knowing the dwarf he knew he'd heard him, but the truth was that for Dwalin, Thorin might as well have been rotting at that moment and the member in his breeches, now so taut it almost hurt under Eyia's attentions, if it could have spoken, he would have told him as much.  Responding to Thorin in the fastest way he knew, he ran his tongue over the taut nipple, running his lips and tongue up the defined line of her shoulder. She began to gasp with impatience and in a moment, he captured her lips again, sinking his tongue back into that tasty palate that tasted like a different fruit every night. At the same time, Eyia's small hand, first resting on his shoulder, gripped his crest, entwining her fingers tightly in his hair, making him roar inside her mouth as she squeezed his member with the same strength.

In Durin's name that human would have driven him mad one of those nights, but to the King of Erebor that little game was beginning to get on his nerves.

Clenching his jaw Thorin walked unconcernedly to the side of the room and without a word sat down with his arms crossed on the wooden chair where he usually threw his dirty clothes after work, apron on the opposite side of the table where that vicious act Dwalin was engaged in was taking place.

"I need to talk to you. " He told him, trying to keep his eyes focused on his friend's profile, who as soon as he noticed his insistent gaze broke away from the human's lips and turned his head towards his own.

"I am a little busy at the moment." He retorted throwing an eloquent look towards his hand around the human woman's outstretched leg and, as if to underline what he meant, the woman rubbed her femininity against Dwalin's thigh meowing like a cat in heat.

Repugnant.

With disgust and indifference, Thorin shook his shoulders letting his back go even further to the chair.

"I can wait." He retorted in Khuzdul not wanting the human to understand one more word from them.

The dwarf warrior gave him a dirty look as soon as Thorin let go of his back to the chair and crossed his arms in anticipation, raising an eyebrow wryly: he couldn't even for once give him a freaking hour off, all that work would kill him sooner or later as well as his composure and that damned look of indifference.

Dwalin had to bite his lip, holding back a groan between his teeth as Eyia's small fingers moved up his member until they grazed his tip. Slowly she began to stroke it with small concentric gestures which she began to imitate with slow movements of her pelvis making him feel how wet she was, riding his leg slowly, moaning into his hear his name and making him hate Thorin insistence even more.

"Do-we-really-need-to-do-this-right-now?" Dwalin roared at Thorin, barely managing to keep his hands fixed on Eyia's thighs in the meantime that she again let her hand go even further down his trousers.

"Dwalin, please." She whispered pleadingly in his ear licking his earlobe rubbing herself against his leg again. "Please."

Following her, with his blue eyes, Thorin let out an annoyed snort as soon as the girl in one smooth movement freed Dwalin's member completely from the fabric of his breeches accompanying him past the loose leather straps caressing his entire length right before his eyes.

"She is human." He pointed wryly, clutching his forearms outstretched at the girl's insolence.

"I know what she is." Dwalin retorted, barely suppressing a groan as Eyia mischievously began to slowly kiss the side of his neck, swiping her wet tongue under the hairline of his beard as fast as she continued to torture his erection.

"Why?" Thorin asked, beginning to grow impatient that the girl didn't even mind his presence and continued unconcernedly, moaning into his friend's chin.

"Why not?"

"Because she is a human!" Thorin roared back, retorting something that was more than obvious to him.

Dwalin rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a modicum of control, which was very easy for him especially if instead of a pair of tits he had to look at Thorin's unyielding face and instead of hearing moans he was instead forced to hear his irritating tone berating him for a problem that had been his and his alone for years.

He knew why Thorin was scolding him: all his life the idiot had lain only with dwarrowdams, as they had all been taught since they were only boys, as the true tradition of their people dictated. But Thorin seemed to be the only one who still followed that idea, and since they had left the villages of Dunland, it was as if that thought had become even more ingrained in him. If only that idiot, bound to his damned traditions had known what it was like to be between their thighs, and Eyia seemed intent on making him understand that or at least make Thorin feel so uncomfortable that he would get them both out of the way.

That was why Dwalin adored her, why he wanted her every night, why he craved her thighs so much that he had rotted the guards at the entrance by paying them to let her infiltrate the halls most nights. That lustful, rebellious human tavern-keeper from that night in the city of men had become his favourite poison, and the taste of her cherry in his mouth had become tastier than any beer he'd ever drunk.

Marred the dwarrowdams and their ostentatious purity and devotion. He adored his human.

"You are too stern, you always are." He scolded Thorin with a hiss but was unable not to sneer as he cast a glance underneath him to the stiff, rosy nipple pressed against his pecs indulging what he already understood to be Y/N's desires. "Have you ever seen one of them without their clothes on?"

With a snort, Thorin rolled his eyes again in annoyance. "She is nearly as tall as you."

"Only if you keep staring and trust me it's the last thing ya notice when you are on top of them or...behind them." Dwalin snickered, looking him straight in the eye even as he slowly moved up to Eyia's shoulder, kissing her as she reached up to his ear, biting it under the earring.

"He is boring you were right." A single whisper that made him grin against her rosy skin and made him make perhaps the rightest decision of his entire life.

Dwalin licked his lips as he continued to look at Thorin, and with a sharp movement, he passed the hand still clinging to Y/N's leg underneath her petticoat, lifting it all the way up and revealing her open thighs and belly still pressed against the now soaked fabric of his breeches.

Thorin thought still tried not to look, was compelled when he saw Dwalin's hand full of scars, like his own, began to stroke her inner thigh with the back of his hand in front of him. "They have a body as sensitive body as a virgin one. Sometimes I am even afraid of breaking when I touch it. They're the hardest metal I've ever dealt with."

As much as the king had tried to control himself, he couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek when with the pelvis of the human went for Dwalin's touch again spreading her legs wide just for him.

When Dwalin noticed how Thorin was staring at his hand, he smiled triumphantly: perhaps giving him a little demonstration before blowing him up wouldn't be such a bad idea. The dwarf warrior shifted his gaze from Thorin's increasingly tense face to the face of Eyia resting on his shoulder before he leaned back with his torso from the table, allowing Thorin to see what was to follow.

Slowly he brought his hand up to Eyia's throbbing pubis, and knowing how she would react, he brushed his thumb over her opening making her legs spread even wider. He lowered his touch until he flowered her engorged, wet clit. Eyia moaned softly against the beard on his neck and in a spasm of pleasure, she pulled her hand away from his member grabbing his wrist: like an obedient virgin, the way she wanted Thorin to look at her and all just to get him out of her slit.

She glared at him : she knew she'd go crazy, she'd freak out, probably kick Thorin out in a bad way and in Durin's name that would turn him on more than any moan she could ever get out of her mouth.

Thorin Oakenshield, hunted by a human from his own forge.

"They adore us ya know, human maids." Dwalin whispered, turning his gaze to him and grinning out of the side of his mouth as the human's small hand tried to push his friend's hand down even further. "It is something I can't even explain, they look for our bodies as it's the first time they see man, they touch us as we are melted gold." She told him turning her head towards the human's rubbing her lips against the small ear covered by the unruly wisps. "By my beard..." Dwalin murmured hoarsely as he felt Y/N getting wetter and wetter under his fingers to the point of dripping. "She pends from my lips and limbs, as I am Mahal myself sometimes." He murmured more to himself than to Thorin.

"Of curse she does, you are paying her." Thorin retorted, making his friend grin in satisfaction as he looked at him again.

"I am not, Eyia is no whore she is an innkeeper from the human village outside, the innkeeper who offers the sweetest ale in all of this damned Valar-dominated part of the world." He commented hoarsely as he continued to look at him, but Thorin's gaze remained fixed on Dwalin's hand.

The friend of his, biting his lip, let his middle finger in between the two wet folds slide inside her, just enough to get only the tip of his finger in but enough to make her moan with so much satisfaction Thorin felt that nagging feeling press into his trousers again, growing more and more.

"So you are courting a human in a forge." He muttered, lowering his arms to try and cover his shame as much as he could manage.

"I am not courting her we just keep each other company until the sun rises every two nights when you are not inside this damned workshop and I have a moment's peace."

At those last words, Thorin could no longer remain silent or still, forcefully he held his forearms glaring at him. He could have accepted that Dwalin had taken a shine to a human, and even justified his sneaking her in. He wouldn't have approved but he would have understood, instead, he let her into their city only to bang her every other day.

She suppressed a small growl but was unable to keep from gritting her teeth furiously at each other. "So you are sneaking a human maid into these halls with-"

"You can also speak directly to me you know I am not invisible."

Finally, Eyia couldn't take it any more, that game was taking too long and knowing that they were talking about her in that deep, scratchy language, now after those long weeks even familiar, was driving her out of her mind.

She had been good, patient but Dwalin's finger between her legs was no longer enough and in those few hours she had free in the night, Eyia wanted to feel more than just his fingers and hear those words in Dwarvish only whispered into her ears between thrusts.

Pulling her lips away from Dwalin's strong neck she lether face go gently against his chest and entwined both arms around his shoulders, finally glancing down at the end of the table at the annoying interlocutor. She knew very well who he was, she could guess who he was, but at that moment it could have been Aule himself and she would have treated him the same way.

Eyia felt Dwalin's chest move up and down as his rough and deep chuckle resonated into the room, while on the other side the other dwarf remained silent, crossing slowly his legs while an irritated snore passed through his lips.

"You have a sharp tongue for a woman."

"Many say so, they say I tend to give voice to my though too many times."

"That's why Dwalin likes you then." He retorted, grinning out of the side of his mouth as he glanced behind her, clearly referring to Dwalin who was still holding his hand between her legs, teasing the entrance with the tip of his finger.

But Eyia weren't in the mood at that moment at all.

"He likes to talk, a lot actually, more than me even sometimes." She retorted aggressively, raising an eyebrow as Eyia slowly dropped her hands towards the step and gripped the edge of the table.

Oh yes, he liked to talk, especially as he watched her get dressed. He kissed her with his rough lips, he kissed every spot he hadn't touched enough during the night, rubbing his rough beard over every inch of her body and more than once, in those chats, she'd overheard them while his head was between her legs and she had to hold on to his black hair looking at the tattoos on his head.  

And those little discussions were also the reason she knew exactly who she was facing, the one Dwalin liked to call the Pride Bastard, or in some rare moments, his king.

Sceptically, Thorin raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to the side. "He doesn't speak a lot to me, that's why I came here, because I needed to talk with him, but he was busy, with you."

"Then maybe he prefers my company because or you are just a silent person or just boorish...I think more the second choice. " Eyia hissed, totally voicing her thoughts as she turn her upper body totally towards him, not at all ashamed of her condition. How her breasts were totally in his sight, as well as her belly almost completely exposed if it wasn't covered by the side of her thigh.

He was the one who had stayed if her body was going to give him any trouble he might as well go away and let her continue her night with Dwalin without any further ado on his part.

Thorin clicked his tongue again, but this time through his blue eyes partially covered by the pitch-black wisps Eyia could see a spark ignite, a spark that made her womanhood pulsate between her legs and hold her hands on the surface of the table almost crawling over it.

"Yes, you tend to use your tongue a little bit too much for my tastes." He pinned the dwarf down, narrowing his gaze and spreading his legs over the chair in a fluid motion, settling even better: oh no, he wasn't leaving, not now.

And for all the Valar, he was annoying, he was boring, he'd used a tone since he'd walked in that even if she didn't understand it was capable of sending her into a rage, but she'd be a liar not to admit he was the most beautiful dwarf and man, and elf she'd ever seen. Dwalin was gorgeous, he had aroused her instincts the first moment Eyia saw him sitting at the tavern table. Powerful, rough, mischievous, but with a gaze that showed all the gentleness that could conceal the dwarf still well placed between her legs at that moment. A carnal, hard, violent beauty: his scars on his body, his arms covered in those tattoos she could have looked at and kissed for hours, his broken nose, but Thorin was a different kind of beauty. One she had rarely had the opportunity to see, a beauty as cold and dark as his hair that began to make the inside of her legs throb once more. The fine lips, the sharp eyes that were eating her alive at that moment, the backset as if he were not sitting on a wooden stool in a forge but on a throne. The taut, stocky muscles that darted beneath the regal yet humble blue shirt he was wearing crumpled at that moment. The dark hair on his chest rising slightly towards his square jaw covered by a short, unkempt beard the same colour as the long, black hair loose on his powerful shoulders. That voice, for all Valar, that hateful, haughty voice, that was making the hairs on her back stand up in annoyance but so deep and authoritative that it seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth, tangling with her own.

Eyia plan to let him go turned into something else. She was going to make him stay, no, she were going to make him beg to stay.

[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?!"

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@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

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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.”

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 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

[gwen-ever]

As stubborn as ill

A/N: This litte drabble it’s a little gift for @lathalea​. She is always so kind with everyone and such an amazing listener and I am happy to say, friend. She works very hard with everything she does, she works that much that its hard even for others to make her stop and make her relax. She is so responsable and she is always the first to  So since she is not feeling very well these days, I  wanted to make her evenings under the blankets a little bit more enjoyable. And how could I not make them more enjoyable , if not by offering her a nice pre-Smaug carign Thorin?

Warnings: none

Words: 802

Pairing: OCxThorin

"How do you feel?" Ylva grunted in response, unable to do anything other than press her cheek even harder against herpillow. She didn't even have the strength to look up or open her eyes when the bedroom door closed with a thud and heavy footsteps began to echo through the marble. She moved her hand out from under the fur and stroked the empty side of the bed next to her, making a small gesture with her eyes closed, inviting the intruder to sit beside her, letting out another tired grunt. Because that was she, tired, terribly tired and cold. In Durin's name! Curse her and her stubbornness. Only two days ago she had been perfectly fine, she had managed to finish the translation of ten scrolls in one day, and now she was not even able to reach her hand to the bedside table and read the book next on top of it orblow out the candle next to it. That lousy fever had ruined all her plans. Thorin had told her to go to bed three days a go and leave all her work not finished. "You can finish it tomorrow morning", he said. But  no, she had to finish her work, it had become a matter of principle. She didn't want to hear human merchants all over Rovarion going around asking any dwarves they came across what was written in the orders for the goods, nor did she want to give every blacksmith in Thorinuldûm another headache to deal with. He had worked through the night, even staining her elbows with ink, but in the end, when he put the last dot on the yellowed paper, she was happy. It was a pity that it was the middle of the night and that the window in the bookcase had been open all night, letting in so much cold that the ink pots filled underneath. A few hours later, while she was sleeping, came the first sneeze, and then the second and the third, until her eyes began to water and her nose stopped working and even her pillow felt like a prison. The footsteps in her room grew closer and closer, she couldn't tell how far away they were, she could only tell that her husband had sat beside her as the mattress curved downwards. "You don't look well at all," Thorin's low voice rang in her ears with such force that her eyes narrowed in annoyance. In the name of Durin! "I'm better than I was yesterday, it'll pass eventually," she muttered in reply, reaching out with her fingers to what she knew were his breeches, clutching the fabric weakly. In response she heard a heavy sigh and then a rough hand came to rest on her forehead, pulling away some of the wisps that had most likely stuck to her forehead. She knew something was wrong as Thorin lingered on her cheek, rubbing it with the tip of his thumb. "What's wrong?" she asked, opening her eyes weakly and squeezing his trousers even harder between her fingers. Thorin's expression was sad, though blurry she could see his face and his blue eyes, lit by the faint light of the candle beside the bed, observing an indefinite spot on her forehead. "I have never seen you like this..." Ylva smiled with the side of her mouth moving her hand from the fabric of her breeches to the hand on his cheek squeezing it gently. "I just have a little cold, a couple of days I'll be better, you don't have to worry about me." Thorin smiled with the side of his mouth "You know exactly It Is not possible "Well you will have to, It Is an order." Thorin shook his head, rolling his eyes slightly before lowering himself to her and gently placing his lips to the side of her temple, giving her a small, gentle kiss that drew an ecstatic sigh from Ysla. She closed her eyes again, savouring the gentle warmth of the dwarf's lips on her forehead, the tingling of his thick beard on her skin and the strong scent, which she could barely smell, of ash and leather. "As you wish, my sick, stubborn, sweet wife." That string of adjectives brought a smile to her face, causing her to open her eyes again and look up into the smiling face of the Lord of the Ered Luin. "Better for you, my if you kiss me you will get sick too, stubborn more than me, beautiful prince and husband." And with her last ounce of strength she gave herself a peak with her elbow and placed her lips on Thorin's, putting her words into action. He would not be able to care for her if he was also in bed with her, would he?

<3 @lathalea​

[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! 🤓