#bagginshield ficlet

[chipsbarista]

Not Ruined, Not Lost (Bagginshield Ficlet)

Words: 712 Prompt: "I ruin everything I touch..." - "Not me."

The great halls of Erebor were long quiet now. No echoes of war, no celebrations, no music. Thorin sat on the stone steps beneath his throne, crown sitting on his lap, where he traced the etchings with his finger slowly. The golden glow of the torches flickered slowly, casting an ever changing dancing of shadows on Thorin’s face.

Bilbo watched him from the doorway. His heart ached for Thorin. And so he stepped into the pathway that led to him. 

“Thorin,” His voice carried through the stone walls, even as he had said it softly. Thorin didn’t look up.

“You shouldn’t be here, burglar.” Thorin’s voice was gruff.

“I’m exactly where I should be,” Bilbo replied stubbornly, coming closer and closer to him. “And I’ll keep saying it for as long as you need to hear it.”

And so Bilbo reaches him. He plops down in front of Thorin.

“You’re placing me on a pedestal.” Thorin looks up finally. And the look he gives Bilbo breaks his heart. “I’m afraid I’ll shatter it and my fall will be that much higher.”

“You’re wrong, Thorin,” Bilbo said firmly, hands springing upwards to cup Thorin’s cheek. “I don’t put you on a pedestal. I see you, every fault, every flaw. And I continue to see you, the way you continuously fight your sickness of the mind. You are strong, Thorin.”

“I ruin everything I touch,” Thorin shook his head and moved away from Bilbo’s hand. “My home, my family, my people-”

“Not me,” And so Bilbo grabs Thorin’s face again, with both hands, making him look straight into Bilbo’s eyes. He needs Thorin to understand he means this. “Never me. You could never ruin me, Thorin.”

“I am not the king you think I am,” Thorin lets out in a whisper.

“That is not true,” Bilbo’s voice cracks, and it is then he realizes the desperation in his voice. “We’re both broken, more than we’d like to admit, but even broken things have their place. They can be mended and made beautiful again.”

Thorin closes his eyes, “I’m tired, Bilbo.”

“Then let me carry you.” 

A pause.

There is a small smile plastered on Thorin's face now, “As if you could.”

Bilbo’s heart lightens a bit at the sight, “Oh, I could. I may be smaller than you but I am far sturdier than you give me credit for, Master Oakenshield.”

Thorin huffed a quiet laugh. Thorin’s eyes open again, deep blue things, full of emotion.

“You carry enough already, Bilbo.” Thorin murmurs, voice dropping lower. “I have burdened you, have kept you here when you should be with your armchair and books, planting your trees-”

“Do not say those words. They are far too similar to the ones you said when you- When I thought I’d- Please-”

Bilbo could formulate the words fine, but they’d get stuck in his throat the moment he tried to voice them. So he stopped. So he took a deep breath, calmed himself, and brushed a small finger across Thorin’s cheek.

“Stop it. Stop pushing me away,” Bilbo’s heart hurts so much, he thinks he might’ve been stabbed. “I am here because I want to be, you hear me? I will not leave you. Not again. You cannot make me go.”

Thorin flinches at the words. “Why?” That small smile long now, replaced by tear filled eyes that made Bilbo want to scream. “Why do you fight for me even when I’ve failed you in every way?”

“Because I love you, you stubborn fool!” Bilbo bursts, when he didn’t mean to. Tears freely rolling down his eyes now. “Because even at your worst, even when the gold took you from me, I saw you. I saw you. I will not let you slip into the shadows when there is still light in you.”

Thorin’s breath hitched. “Bilbo…”

“I don’t care what you’ve done or what you think you’ve broken. You’re not ruined. Not to me.” Bilbo says, hands shaking. And then Thorin’s hand is atop his, even as Bilbo’s is still cupin his face.

For a moment, Thorin said nothing. And then, with a shuddering breath he pulls Bilbo’s hand down, leaning forward, resting their foreheads together, “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not up to you to decide.”

[charlotte-zophie]

Off the beaten path

The night was cold in the mountains, but Thorin did not freeze. Although he was wrapped in his fur coat, the warmth that filled him came from his heart. He inhaled slowly, his nose deep in the light brown curls, filling his lungs, his heart and his whole being with the scent of his One. He smelled of leaves, grass and sunshine, of earth, books and pipeweed, he smelled of fulfilment and the eternity of love. He had never believed that he would experience this. All his life he had lived in the conviction that only the leadership of his people was important to him. That nothing could ever fulfil him like the security of his kin.

But all that faded into the the background as he turned his gaze for the first time to the being that was now slumbering peacefully on his chest.

At first he hadn't realised what he was feeling. There had been a strange turmoil in his chest that he did not understand, but the more time he spent with Bilbo the more he realised what this feeling meant. And now he knew that before there had been an emptiness in his chest that he hadn't been aware of. But he was complete now, even if he wondered how it was even possible to feel whole when someone else owned your heart.

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 3 / Barrels

Hey folks! Here's my offering for day three of the lovely @smolestboop's "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list 💛

You can also find these little snippets compiled into one fic on AO3

Thought I'd try a slightly different format today - let me know if you like it or not!

~*~*~

Hamfast Gamgee often overheard things while he was tending to the garden of Bilbo Baggins. He didn’t mean to, not truly, but working outside with all the windows to Bag End thrown wide open in the heat of summer just meant that occasionally he was privy to conversations he perhaps ought not have been.

Not because they were scandalous in any way, no no! Mister Bilbo was a strange sort -always had been- but he was still extremely decent, though not quite so respectable as he had been before his travels, and certainly less so after apparently adopting a dwarf and bringing him home to stay. 

Today’s conversation was innocent enough, and he listened almost absently as Mister Bilbo fretted in that way of his from inside the smial. 

“We got through that last keg very fast.”

“Perhaps if hobbits made barrels in the correct size, we wouldn’t have had to replace it so quickly.”

“Hobbits make them smaller because our ale is stronger, that’s all.”

“Hm. Are you certain you just don’t need less, because you are so small?”

Hamfast had spoken to the dwarf in passing more than once, and he seemed like a good sort, if a little serious. This, however, made the old gardener’s ears prick up, unsure if it was meant as a jest or if he ought to be offended on behalf of all the Shire. He suspected a joke, and Mister Bilbo soon put the dwarf back in his box.

“You’re not that much taller than I am, thank you very much.”

“No?”

There was a warmth to the dwarf’s voice, an almost suppressed mirth that made Hamfast smirk. So, Mister Thorin was just winding poor Mister Bilbo up after all. Well, good for him. He knew Mister Bilbo had been alone for far too many years, and he was pleased to know he now had a good friend who didn’t mind ribbing him a little.

“Certainly not! I mean, I could understand you constantly joking about it if you were a man or an elf…”

“You could understand if I were an elf?”

Suddenly Mister Thorin sounded quite dry, and a little put out. Hamfast didn’t much care for elves himself, truth be told. All fanciful and silly and a bit ridiculous to look at, with all those long limbs jutting out everywhere... he had never understood Mister Bilbo's fascination with the creatures.

“I only mean that the barrels in the woodland realm were much larger.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, don’t get in a pet about it, I just mean that you would never have fit in a hobbit barrel, that’s all.”

“Neither would you. You aren’t that much smaller than I am, after all.”

The warmth and humour were back again, and Hamfast fully grinned when he heard Mister Bilbo laugh.

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know!”

“Indeed.”

“You’re lucky I like you so much!”

Mister Bilbo scoffed, still chuckling to himself as he apparently walked away and left Mister Thorin to his own devices. Hamfast thought the conversation over, until he heard something he was absolutely certain he shouldn’t have, spoken quietly, and in far too wistful a way for simply a good friend.

“I am, at that.”

[noirbriar]

Fire & Stone AU: Bonds

The end of the Third Age, peace has come. Yet Glorfindel and Erestor find themselves in a bit of trouble with outdated customs.

In which elven high society, especially the line of Finwe, have rules and traditions to be followed for noble born elves. No exceptions.

An AU where the sons of Durin lived and Maglor resides now in Imladris some time before The Hobbit. OOC a high possibility, its all on me. Coughed out this random ficlet for fun and excuse for some family drama.

Things of note/warnings: none although maybe child acquisition? also, the writer's tolkien knowledge is rather rudimentary still so anything in here should just be taken as a pure AU. --- "Now this is a rare sight! A new age of peace and here you are, bested by an orc! My young commander, I see you have been slacking." Maglor strides in, his robes swishing quietly into the healing wing. "Don't antagonise the patient." Elrond prompts dryly from behind as he arranges his salves and bandages at the side to be cleared away by the other healers. "I would like to see you try to go up against a double ambush while trying to get the villagers to safety with a lean troop." Erestor grumbles from his spot in the bed, eyes closed, trying to focus in putting up his mental walls, blocking out the numb pain from his wretched shoulder from his mate. "A new age yet the foul damn creatures continue to be a pain in the ass."

"And I heard from Kili and Tauriel you picked up a gift along the way?" Maglor grins as he reaches out to pat the small lump buried into Erestor's better side. Only to be rewarded with a bite and a sharp cry as the old Feanorian quickly pulls his hand back to safety from the fiesty child on defensive.

A toddler who could barely walk really.

"And don't tease the elfling, Atya." Elrond admonishes softly though with a soft smile .The healer tries to brush away the messy silvery blond hair from the elfling's face, but pulls back when the child pulls away from his touch.The elfling resumes clutching onto Erestor like a baby squirrel.

"Unfortunately he seems to be an orphan long before the attack, being cared for by his fellow villagers all this while from what I heard. Still, the little one seems to have taken a great liking to his protector... I suppose its really a Feanorian trait to pick up little ones and be chosen by them." The Lord of Imladris slowly adds, his eyes alight with mischief much like his younger self.

Maglor chuckles under his breath at the statement with a shake of his head. Whereas the elfling simply stare at the father and son duo balefully, his eyes narrowed in a way that is reminiscence to a displeased Erestor. Before the little one huddles closer to the dark haired elf for comfort.

Erestor is quiet, as he lets the child do as he please, caressing the elfling's back before his eyes begain to droop, his body demanding for a healing sleep. Elrond leaves, leaving his adoptive father to watch over his old follower. Maglor then decides to sings a healing song for his old soldier that he have come to care for dearly. Its was too lovely a day to be without song anyway. and the weakened child could use some power from a Song after such an ordeal.

It was a while before the Singer notices Erestor trembling in his rest, almost in pain from what Elrond has deemed a normal wound.The elfling whimpers in worry. Maglor stops and sits on the bed instead to examine the clean bandages. Baffled, he puts his hand onto the younger elf's hand instead and tries to reach out with his weak fea to provide some comfort from the pain.

For a moment there is warmth, before something tingles, and pulls. Which causes Maglor jumps back in shock and the elfling to be startled in turn, before starting to cry. Its as if someone has dumped him into the Brunien before flinging his fea across the sea... So Maglor does the only reasonable thing in this situation- "ELROND!!" ---

Glorfindel is worried. Lately, he could hardly feel his mate through their young bond. (A bond! At long last, his beloved's fea melded with his own, singing ever so sweet. He have never felt so at peace and so complete with another heart beating with his own. ) As the escort of Celeborn, Galadriel and the Galadhrim to Imladris, the warrior had to be apart from his husband for a more than a few months, shortly after their bonding and their return from Gondor. It was a slow journey home, as he and his troops guided the elves awaiting to sail for the West to the last Homely House.

Last he heard before he left, there were news of stray orcs, stragglers along the borders. With all the administrative work delegated to others in the household and council, Erestor have taken upon himself to command some troops to check on the matter. Yet no messengers have come by with regards to any trouble and he felt no distress from Erestor, so there was some comfort in that. The Captain knows his husband is a master with his blades, the Chief Councillor skilled with his swords even after years of administrative work. However the lost of gentle nudges and touches from his mate is still concerning.

And if he had nudges Asfaloth a little faster upon spotting reaching the main bridge, no one was willing to call him out on it. What he had not expect was a pair of restless twins awaiting for their arrival at the end of it. "Greetings, Grandfather! Grandmother! We hope your journey has been smooth." Elladan greeted as Elrohir proceeded forward and they greeted their elders .Almost too formal, Glorfindel thought. "Elladan? Elrohir? I did not expect you both to greet us all the way out here. What trouble did you both get into this time?" Glorfindel grins at the twins.

"Ah ha! But its not us you should be worried about, dear Captain." Elrohir smirks while Elladan strides up and pats the Golden Elf wryly with a glint in his dark eyes.

"Its you."

-- In the twilight, Glorfindel grits his teeth as he is starting to be immensely annoyed that he is unable to at least find his husband first. Unable to even freshen up after days of travel, before he was whisked away by Elladan and Elrohir into the inner wings of the House. His bond with Erestor still quiet despite the proximity, even with the twins assuring that Erestor was in Imladris.

Following closely beside him, are the curious Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, both by the request of the twins' father.

"For support." Whatever that means. What greeted him at the large outdoor meeting chamber that Elrond favors, was the Lord of Imladris himself, sitting instead by the side seat of the long table. The head chair was empty. Further away, was unmistakably, though surprisingly, the second son of Feanor. As Maglor turns to greet the guests, Glorfindel sees clearly now. No longer dressed in his usual plain and unremarkable robes, but in elegant brocade and silk. Maglor's hair adorned with the style of old elves of a forgotten time with a beautifully crafted circlet adorned with small moonstones by a Master smith, marking his status as a noble.

Elladan and Elrohir gives a bow and steps slightly out by the corridor. Excusing themselves from this meeting. Something is wrong.

"My greetings, Laurefindil. You have finally returned. Now take a seat, I feel that we must have an urgent discussion." Maglor smiles and gestures to the seat on the opposite side of the table. Formal manners of court and Quenya. Not good. Glorfindel's warrior instincts are rising up.

"Galadriel, Celeborn, my greetings. As Glorfindel's cousin and family, please, pardon for a lack of hospitality but I'm afraid it must be done. Do take a seat as well beside your kin."

"What are you up to now, Maglor." Celeborn remarks flatly, trying to keep some basic civility with the Son of Feanor. plainly ignoring the use of Quenya entirely, and carefully leading his wife to her seat with Elrond guiding his in-laws.

Maglor does not grace with a reply but with a small smile, as he takes a seat at the head chair, hands clasps together before him. A warm air of quiet descends upon the noble born elves in the peaceful valley as time slows with only the sound of the waterfalls and music by the minstrels. A picture of serenity.

---

"So...what is the fuss for? Why is everyone crowding around the balconies and trees?" Kili asks as he observes the happenings around him, casually munching on an apple slice, and feeding Tauriel a slice as well.Being ever the doting husband.

The dwarven prince and his wife are perching precariously on a balcony railing with Thorin and Bilbo lounging nearby. The King Under The Mountain and his Consort both unbothered by the commotion.

They were simply enjoying the quiet afternoon with Bilbo's tea. Before dozens of curious denizens of the elven haven wandered into the public pavilion. From the maids to the council members, curious and eager about something.Their excitement and low murmurings like the rustling of the leaves.

And that something is happening right now.

---

Glorfindel's instincts are on high alert. But finally, impatience to reunite with his mate had won out. The Golden Lord chooses to strike on offensive.

"So, why have you called me here, Makalaure?" The Golden Lord of Gondolin begins. There was none of his usual humour.

"Long has it been since I must bear that name and even the responsibilities of a Lord. Though I care not but only for my family. My father and brothers no longer on these shores. Yet my sons and nephews were. I am ashamed to be a terrible Uncle and Father, unable to care for them until its too late." Maglor's voice wavers as he tries not to delve too deep into memories.

A careful strike has Glorfindel tensing up on defensive as he catches on to Maglor's words, but he remains silent. This is a problem.

"You were hurt and in sorrow, and you didn't know." Elrond reasons quietly, as he pats Maglor's shaking hands gently, as father and son share comfort in each other's presence for a moment.

"Alas, in this moment that I am able, I must do what is right, in place of my brother, or I shall not be able to face my younger brother and my family in the Void..."

Slowly, the old Lord turns back to Glorfindel, eyes alight. The last son of Feanor then demands-

"So tell me, Laurefindil. Did you think you can skip on tradition and wed my only nephew left without the proper procedure and rites worthy of the great-grandson of Finwe, grandson of Feanor? The son of Caranthir the Dark?"

The music goes silent, the air stills.

Celeborn and Galadriel sits higher at the revelation, with the Lord turning to his Lady in surprise and wonder. Only to receive a graceful shake of her head in silent reply by the great Lady of Lothlorien. So the two turn instead to the great Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, who is resisting the urge to show any reaction.

Well, shit.

---

Time froze before chaos breaks out in the Last Homely House. There were a range of emotions with gasps and confusion by the residents of Imladris, especially from the old Feanorians in the household.

A living descendant of Feanor? Son of Caranthir? Erestor? The youngest General under Maedhros and Maglor's command? Their Chief Councillor, the Tempest of Imladris? There were so many questions, one of the old followers had even begun to cry.

Kili looks around in confusion.

"Soooo context? Anyone?"

"Oh..oh dear." Tauriel murmurs quietly," I think I get it now and this isn't good." The elleth turns to her in-laws, "Also, Lord Maglor's circlet...did you both know about this?"

The elves all turn to the old King, who simply took his time to answer." As a friend and fellow uncle, it was the least I could do," and the dwarf takes a sip of his ale and left it as that.

"Why? I mean, is there like a problem here with Erestor being related to Maglor...or I dunno, something?" Kili continues, trying his best to wrap his head around this peculiar situation.

"Yes, and Lord Maglor is calling Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor's marriage into question as Erestor's elder. I believe he is displeased with the lack of a marriage contract in accordance to the Marriage Code."

He stares at Tauriel," We...Is this an elf thing? We didn't have that when we married?"

"I'm Silvan, dear. This only apply to the high born elves."

Kili blinks, and instead turns to Bilbo. Thorin sighs at his nephew pointedly and tiredly," Balin's going to flip if he hears this." His Hobbit chuckles at the younger dwarf's blank look before taking a moment to enlighten the younger dwarf.

"Its basically a procedure by both parties and their families.Before marriage and the binding of fea, nobles may undergo trials to prove the worthiness of their match. A terribly lengthy process."

"They are also assessed by their assets and wealth and status of 3 generations minimum. Before they dive deeper into binding agreements regarding their descendants, heirs, inheritance and the like. Down to even the minute details of scenarios like, what should happen if they fade or sail. Or if they reach Valinor should there be other lovers? Or any possible family feuds to address. Possibly even in unspeakable situations such as Separation, which what Men called a divorce. Something that dwarrow do not have as you all only have Ones. " Bilbo takes a quick puff of his pipe, "its a serious thing to the high born elves like those originally from the Valinor, and especially so to the line of Finwe."

There soon was some commotion down in the meeting hall where Maglor and Glorfindel's discussion were getting louder. The Son of Feanor has even gotten up from his chair to articulate something with a wide flair which the Golden Lord is trying to rebuke with obvious gestures. "Oh...It looks like the other party who is involved is here." Bilbo muses with an amused smile as he spots dark figure gliding by the corridors.

---

"-We have bonded with your's and Elrond's blessing have we not!?" Glorfindel tries to reason, the discussion now jumping back to Westron as he gets frustrated with the roundabout argument looping endlessly.

"That was without the knowledge that he is my blood kin! And how dare you keep this from us? Do you disrespect his roots?!" Maglor leans onto the table with both hands, unwilling to back down.

"We are almost in the Fourth Age, what use do we have any more of old redundant laws anyway?" Glorfindel shoots back, thinking back of all the tedious practices and rules from the Years of the Trees to his time in Gondolin, the stifling rules of nobility and how ridiculous it has gotten when he returned up till now.

"A Code that was implemented to protect the welfare of all involved! Remember the mess that involved my Grandfather and his wives! Even Elrond went through with the Code!"

Elrond hums in a detached sort of way as his eyes glazes over, not meeting his in-laws' eyes. He quickly pushes down the memories of the long and tedious marriage discussions and procedures before his marriage to Celebrian.

"Then I shall remind you of Thingol and Luthien and then look what that had nearly wrought as well!" Glorfindel snaps, his patience long gone.The Lord of the Golden Flower glowers back in fury, the balrog slayer’s eyes ablaze.

"Long has been our wish to be wed simply like any other eldar who are free from the bonds of duty and oaths that haunt us! We have beheld no other for several yeni till we felt we are free to live as we desire! Codes and Laws and Oaths all be damned!"

"My heart is Erestor's, as his is mine till the Remaking-Nay! Even after that! The only ones that matter in this relationship are myself and my mate! No other! May they be eldar or edain, maia or even the Valar themselves! I will not allow even you, Makalaure, to take away our joy simply for the sake of some out dated tradition! Our hearts are ours alone, is that not how it should be?!"

"OH! Then even if my nephew has your child? What then?!" the Son of Feanor waves with a flourish of his arm towards the entrance way. Glorfindel's mind grinds to a sudden halt as he then turns to Erestor who had arrived. Like a trickling dam, the warrior felt the connection to his mate burst forth and return with the lowering of Erestor's mental walls. A rush of warmth and fullness fill his fea before he felt his breath leave him in a rush. The yearning and love flowing down steadily while Glorfindel could only stare at his handsome mate striding in. The Chief Councillor ignoring the twin guards by the hall's entrance with a wave of his dark, loose robes in a flurry. His storm cloud, wild and fierce even with a tiny blond elfling in his arms, watching him with wide dark eyes...

Oh. Hold up.

"...What?"

---

A/N:Yeah I'll go yeet myself out now

[green-fifteen]

Day 8: Callous

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: fem!Bilbo Baggins/fem!Thorin Oakenshield

Word Count: too long already i'm tired

written for @fluffyfebruary

This AU draws heavily from the EXTREMELY inspiring work of @rutobuka2 (specifically, lumberjack!Thorin and Thorin's design in the Barricade AU (link to NSFW comic))

*i am publishing this in its current and incomplete form because i'm not going to finish it!*

Dis had said, This one is a Kindergarten teacher because I'm running out of friends.

Thorin had said, I wish you would run out faster, but she'd gone on the date anyway. Her sister had gotten married two summers before, and was now bound and determined to find someone for Thorin. Usually, they were people Dis barely knew, from her jewelry work or Vili's gym. On one truly unspeakable occasion, Thorin had gone out with someone Dis described to her as "unfortunately tall," and who turned out to be a wood elf. But they were not all bad. The last time Dis set her up, Dori had become a trusted friend (if not anything more). At the end of the day, she was willing to give some Kindergarten teacher at least one date, if only so Dis would back off for a few more weeks.

But her sister was right: Kindergarten was not her type. As she readied herself for the evening, she was imagining her date as a paint-spattered, bubbly blonde. In her imagination, she could see her talk to the waiter like they were best friends and eventually tell Thorin her entire life story. She'd have no boundaries and no real difficulty in her life.

Thorin sighed. She was being unfair, but she already didn't think they'd have anything in common. Thorin's own job was grueling, demanding, and isolating. She wasn't the kind of person who could sit down with someone and get cozy over appetizers-- the idea made her frown in discomfort. She needed something steady and lasting, rooted in the earth like the trees in her woods.

She pulled on her flannel and snapped the buttons all the way to her neck. At least she wouldn't have to talk about herself, if the teacher did decide to share her life story.

When she arrived at the restaurant at 6:30, Thorin parked her truck and headed straight to her preferred booth. The spotty teenager at the host stand had been working the last couple times she'd been here and gave her a smile. She kept her face to the ground, scowling.

Her seat was in the back, close to the kitchen and a little noisy. She had a great view of the front windows, where she could see anybody pulling up. When Dis had made the mistake of setting her up with the elf, Thorin had been able to slip away when she saw the creature crawl out of her car in the parking lot. Even having narrowly escaped what would have been the worst date of her life, she'd spent the rest of the evening thinking up insults for her sister.

Now, Thorin watched the parking lot idly and turned the table knife over in her hands. It was sturdy quality, if not very sharp. The wood of the handle was a little rotten from being soaked, but the metal was good. She heard a woman's voice from a table in front of her.

"Sorry, but could I get a refill? I'm afraid I'm still waiting." The waitress scurried off and Thorin saw the Hobbit woman sigh and shift in her seat. She felt a stab of sympathy and sipped at her own water. It seemed they were both stuck in date-limbo.

The Hobbit was cute, with mops of auburn curls on the top of her head and just below her ankles. She wore a deep burgundy dress and looked to be doing a crossword puzzle at the table. Thorin watched her in profile, forgetting about the cars in the parking lot.

[Bilbo, Kindy teacher, goes on a first and second date with Thorin, park ranger. She's half in love already and Thorin is on the exact same page. Actually, Thorin is fully in love by the second date and wants to start looking for rings so she never has to give her up. But that's not really something she's about to say.

Thorin takes her home in the car she borrowed from Dis and before Bilbo gets out, Thorin grabs her hand and pulls her so they're facing each other. She slowly brings their faces together, a hand on either side of Bilbo's bare neck. After a perfect first kiss, Thorin dives in for another and another, stopping when she hears Bilbo suddenly gasp. She keeps stroking her thumbs under her jaw as she leans back a little.

Bilbo is near speechless at the feeling of Thorin's calloused fingers dragging over the soft skin of her neck and jaw. She takes Thorin's mouth again a little roughly and bites at her lip, before recalling herself and pulling away. It's almost 11 on a weeknight (WHY did she agree to go out on a Monday again???) so, it's time for sensible teachers to go to sleep. Thorin asks what time school gets out and if she can pick her up for dinner. Again. The next day. She teaches half days so she gets out at 1:30. Thorin says they can have lunch, too.]

[sinisterbug]

Bagginshieldtober

Prompt 3: Barrels (short SHORT ficlet)

I have not abandoned this blog, I just spend all my time logged in as @fortheloveofdeaddove lolololol.

Warnings: very light smut, humor, could be construed as exhibitionism if you squint at Thorin real hard

Rating: M because I said the F word. (I gotta fucking stop that.)

Bilbo exhaled slowly and desperately tried to keep quiet. It wasn’t easy, given the relative discomfort of their location, the potential disastrous departure from propriety, and the delicious jolts of pleasure that were All. Thorin’s. Fault.

What had these dwarves done to him? His father would was likely rolling in his grave (while his was probably mother averting her eyes but cheering all the same), and Gandalf would surely excoriate them if he found out. Balin would be utterly disappointed, and any elf that might pass by would undoubtedly be traumatized. Not to mention what Thranduil would say and/or do.

Ten years had passed since the battle, and for the first time, Thorin had acquiesced to visiting, as he called it, the wretched, spider-infested pile of fire fuel to accompany his consort for a diplomatic trip. Bilbo had naively assumed it had been because of all the personal growth, but no. Now he realized.

Thorin had just wanted to fuck him over a barrel under the elf king’s nose. Unfortunately, this was doing it for Bilbo perhaps as much as it was for his husband. Nevertheless, the king of Erebor was still in deep, deep trouble when they got home.

[lucradiss]

For the kiss prompt, maybe 10 or 30?

Hihi!!! I think I'll do a mix of the two because they're mix and matchable. like legos Comfort + Desperate, An Outlaw Called Wyrm TW: Period-Typical Gun Violence, Kind of Graphic Depictions of that gun violence

Word Count: 2570

Send me more kissy prompts!

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Bilbo barely paid any mind to the hotel when they entered. Through his exhaustion, he saw only flashes of warm brown and gold from oil lamps, and perhaps the blue of the deepest night through the windows Gandalf spoke with who he assumed was the owner. He didn't know who he would be shacked with that night but he didn't very much care- all that he cared about, truly, was getting that warm bath he had been promised upon riding into town and getting some shut-eye in a bed that wasn't either bug-infested or a sleeping mat on the hard ground.  He stretched as he slowly followed the rest of the company, keeping his gaze down so as not to make eye contact with them. He had felt quite unable to speak to the rest of his party or even to meet their concerned glances for the entirety of the ride. Or, rather, the concerned glances that were also accompanied by the fleeting ire that seemed to be thrown his way every so often by the brooding outlaw riding at their helm. He sighed, feeling the new weight of the acquired revolver in its stolen holster. Not that the man he had taken it from would ever need it again, let alone report the theft. There was something about the presence of it that truly unsettled him; whenever he shifted a bit and felt it on his hip he shivered, remembering the events of dawn. Pulling the trigger had felt like the easiest thing in the world- the bullet had been right between the eyes. If you measured the distance between the brute's eyebrows and found the exact middle, there would be a bleeding hole where Bilbo's bullet had found its mark.

As he made it to the top of the stairs, he tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. The thoughts of that shocked, dead-eyed stare from the man he had killed before ever learning his name. Something about that didn't seem quite right, but he'd said nothing about it when Thorin found him lying there on the ground, propped up on his elbow and wide-eyed, blood spattered on his face like new freckles. He'd said nothing at all, really- Thorin's glares quieted anything he could say on the matter.  Glóin murmured to tell him what room he'd be in and he simply nodded before heading down to the baths. The basin had been filled and Bofur had told him to take the first wash and Bilbo felt like he was being coddled, but for now he didn't care. He simply entered, stripped his sweat and blood-stained clothing, left it out in the hallway for one of the attendants to wash (as he'd been told they would) and sank into the basin with a heavy sigh, allowing the warm water to wash away the tension as well as the grime. 

He felt a little bit more human the longer he stayed in the water. It had grown murky enough that he could not see below the surface; he pointedly ignored how, when he washed his face with the yellow sponge on the side-table, it came away a bit red. But this bath was something natural for him, something habitual. After the day he'd had... well. He rather thought he deserved a bath after all that.  He looked down at the water and the thought came to his head that it was the same color as the eyes of the outlaw he'd killed. Bilbo had caught those eyes- they were almost hazel, but more specifically a sickly, light brown. Perhaps in his more innocent youth they might have sparkled in the sun and been called gold, but he'd grown into something of a monster with his two brothers and the gold had lost its luster. And he would grow no longer.

The redness on the sponge came back to him then. The blood that was not his own, shed by his hand. He had not killed before. He had not wanted to kill before. That had been the one contingency for his coming on this quest- he did not want to become a killer. He did not want to create the same evil that had taken his mother from him. But he had, and then had been encouraged to take a souvenir to remember the experience- a beautiful silver revolver that Gandalf told him would fit his palm. And the worst part about it was that it did- the weight was horrifyingly comfortable, the grip fitted just to his hand. It was yet another weapon of death that he had to carry- first, it was his mother's pistol. That, he had been alright to hold- most of the time he could pretend it was nothing more than a keepsake. But this? This was a gun that had been pointed to his head and the only reason it had not been the metaphorical executioner's ax was simply because Bilbo's finger had squeezed faster.

He felt his lungs heaving and he realized that his breath had been coming too quick, too shallow. He bent over himself in the bath, paying little mind to the water or its filth, and put his hands through his curls to grasp them, to try and focus on that instead of the guilt of stealing another's life; of the fear of nearly losing his own; of the horror of wiping someone else's blood from his face and trying to pretend that nothing was wrong with that.  The panic put spots in his eyes, or maybe that was the lack of air. He tried to get a handle on himself but found that he could not. What was happening? His heart beat faster than it ever had, the blood in his ears too loud for him to hear the knocking at the washroom door. The edges of his vision went black- after all he had done to keep himself alive on that day, was he going to die to a heart attack in the bath? He felt like he was going to die. 

"Bilbo?"

The one word, through the door, gave him pause. His breath hitched but he turned his head, hearing it again. The owner's identity came to him slowly through thoughts that mixed and melded, exhaustion and panic weighing heavily upon him; Thorin. It was Thorin. And Bilbo suddenly had the awful, aching urge to be held in the arms of the outlaw once more- just as they had in their bedrolls under the excuse of sharing warmth, just as they had in the last hotel, and for the first time in the one before that. Because Thorin's arms meant safety, despite the glares and the lack of conversation throughout the day.  When night fell, he had come to realize, was when Thorin became how Bilbo knew him.

"Thorin," his voice was rough. "I'll- I'll be out in a moment."

There was a pause as if Thorin was considering something but simply called an affirmative. Bilbo, very shakily, stood and stepped out of the tub, pulling one of the hotel's robes off a hook and wrapping it around himself. He fumbled with the tie but was able to get it with some trial and error before taking a deep breath and stumbling toward the door. Everything about his body felt weak and useless. He felt like he had been the one shot rather than the dead man who now rotted in that clearing.  He shook the image from his head as he put his hand on the doorknob, flinging water from his hair. No. He would not spiral again. He could not spiral again. All the emotion that was building in his chest would be gone come morning, he was sure- it would not do to show this weakness, especially to Thorin or the rest of the company. No, he had been enough of a drag on this journey- he would not saddle them with his own woes born from his inexperience. 

He took another breath and opened the door. Expecting to see the hallway, you can understand his surprise when his eyes met the chest of Thorin Durinsen, who had, apparently, been waiting outside the washroom door. 

"You waited," he said, though that was fairly evident by Thorin's presence. The outlaw peered down at him, his icy blue eyes no longer full of malice but rather concern and scrutiny. He was no longer wearing his coats and furs, stripped to a clean-looking linen shirt and trousers. His belt and holster remained- Bilbo had slept next to the man enough to know that the gun didn't come off until he was ready to get under the covers. 

"And you look like shit," Thorin very astutely observed. Bilbo swallowed, not having the energy to make a quip in response.

"Yeah, well," Bilbo replied, his voice weak. He cleared his throat, but it did nothing. "What did you need me for?"

Thorin frowned, staring at him as if the answer to his question was obvious. "You've been in here an hour, Bilbo. I- We're worried."

"Worried?" Bilbo croaked, though he tried his very hardest not to croak. "Why would you be worried? I was- I was simply taking a long bath. It's been a while since- since I've had one, you know."

"Aye, this is true," Thorin said, "but you also killed a man for the first time today."

Bilbo blanched, feeling his forced easy expression falling. Thorin's brows twitched in response.

"And what of it?" Bilbo asked, feeling that panic rise once more in his chest. "I- what of it, Thorin?"

The outlaw's frown deepened. "Are... you alright?"

Stirring in his chest, the grief and anger and fear and panic created something of a perfect storm in him. One that was too much to reach his face beyond his eyes, and one that overwhelmed him so much that he needed something to stop it. Some balm that would freeze time and allow him to burn away some of it before it burned him first. 

So, on little more than reflex, he reached out, grabbed Thorin's collar, and pulled him down into a kiss. 

Kissing was nothing they hadn't done before. Sure, Bilbo had been rather shocked by the notion at first -- two men, he had been told, were not suited for such an act, but the way Thorin had pulled him close that first time made him think otherwise -- but in time he had come around to it. But this was something different. This was something urgent, something pleading, something desperate. He pulled Thorin closer and overbalanced himself, stumbling backward, but Thorin's hands were on his shoulders to steady him, then they were on his neck, in his damp curls. 

It wasn't pretty- it was all clacking teeth and uncomfortable angles, but it had the desired effect. For a few blissful seconds as Thorin's hands found their way to Bilbo's hips, his mind went blank of any of the day's horrors. As his hands let go of Thorin's collar and found their way to his chest, Bilbo found he could think of nothing else but Thorin's lips. He couldn't breathe- he didn't want to breathe. But then Thorin's hands were on his shoulders again and he was pulling back; Bilbo whined and chased his lips, needing the calm that kissing Thorin provided. But Thorin pushed him away before Bilbo could nip his lower lip back and stared down at him, slightly panting, with the most concern he had ever seen in his eyes.

"Bilbo, talk to me." 

A hand reached up to caress his face and a thumb swiped under his eye- it was then that Bilbo realized he had started crying, the tears rushing down his face in rivers.

"Oh," was all Bilbo could say before his breath hitched, he sniffed once, and then sobbed, curling in on himself. Thorin made a small noise and pulled him close, his hand on the back of Bilbo's head as the smaller man cried into Thorin's shoulder. 

"I know," Thorin murmured. "I know."

And Bilbo didn't feel like Thorin was lying when he said that. Thorin did know. He knew what it was like to take a life for the first time, how it felt, what went through one's mind.

"I don't want to-"

"Shh," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's hair. "I know." The smaller man choked on another sob. 

After awhile, Bilbo's cries abated and he pulled back, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He sniffed, and Thorin caressed his cheek again, causing Bilbo to drop his hands and look up. 

"What's going through your mind, ghivashel?"

And there was one of those words that Bilbo didn't know the meaning of but loved all the same because of the tenderness with which they were said. He sighed shakily, leaning into Thorin's hand. 

"I can't"- he swallowed thickly -"Can't we wait to speak on it? I don't think I..."

"I understand," Thorin said gently, rubbing his thumb along Bilbo's soft cheekbone. Bilbo sighed again, feeling the exhaustion catch up with him as he let his eyes flutter shut against the warmth of Thorin's palm. "You're dead on your feet. Let's go upstairs."

Bilbo nodded but felt cold as Thorin pulled his hand away. Still, he unsteadily followed his leader up the stairs and to the farthest room at the end of the hall, slightly away from the others. It seemed that it was Bilbo and Thorin together again that night. Not that Bilbo was complaining.

Thorin sat on the bed and pulled Bilbo to him, and with a gaze illuminated only by the high moon outside the window, he put his hands on either side of Bilbo's face and brought him down for a gentle kiss. One of tenderness and comfort. It was not a balm or something to wipe away the thoughts of the day- no, this was something that soothed them, a comfort not in the absence of his despair but in concern for it. It was like a damp, cool towel on a blisteringly hot day; like a mother holding a child through a thunderstorm, teaching them to count the time between a peal of thunder and the lightning that followed, listening as it traveled far away. 

They did not talk any more that night. The next day, they would hang back in the hotel and speak in hushed tones as the rest of the company no doubt dined or went about their day of rest before they had to embark once more. Bilbo would tell Thorin of his plights, Thorin would relate and tell him that it got easier with time, though Bilbo had a hard time believing that. He would ask why Thorin glared at him the day before and Thorin would, rather bashfully, admit that the anger had been borne from worry. "I thought I'd lost you," he'd said, suddenly hoarse. Bilbo kissed the sorrow away as Thorin had done the night before. 

But it was still night, and none of that had yet happened. Bilbo still sat on Thorin's lap, and the gentleness that gripped them in the darkness was necessary. Thorin's hands were kind, his lips upon Bilbo's were slow, and in spite of how the world had seemed to crash down around him, he felt at peace enough to lay within Thorin's arms and sleep. 

[niennawept]

Bagginshield and "because the world is ending"?

Also it says a lot about LOTR that you had to specify "no closer than cousins" 😂😂😂

Well this calls for angst.🙃 I'm not crying, you're crying.

[ AU, somehow still pining Bilbo and Thorin go sooner to dispose of the Ring - Mt. Doom Erupts, angst but also love?, SFW]

His tired eyes cannot see through the haze. The air ripples around them, hot as dragon fire, and although his shoulders are no longer bowed by the weight of the Ring, he cannot seem to find the strength to sit tall. But he doesn't need to, for one of Thorin's strong hands pulls him to lean on the dwarf's broad shoulder. "Rest, Master Burglar. The task is done."

"I think, after all this, you ought to call me 'Bilbo,' don't you?" Even with his eyes squinted against the heat, he can see how Thorin's throat moves with some unknown emotion.

"Well, if it's last wishes then, perhaps, here at the end of all things, you'd grant me one last request, Bilbo?"

"Thorin," he scoffs in his half-embarrassed way, "What can I possibly give to you? I haven't anything left." He looks around at the ash and the lava and this crag in the side of the mountain. A fiery rock soars past, hurled by the eruption at his back.

The reply is so soft he almost misses it. "A kiss." Thorin swallows. The air is dry and his throat clicks. "A kiss from my One before I go to Mahal."

"You?" Bilbo's voice comes out a whisper. "You -- me?" He has loved Thorin Oakenshield from the moment he stepped into his foyer, years ago now, arriving late to a party that could not start without him. But even when Thorin left the Mountain with him, even when he travelled across Middle-earth to destroy his blasted, precious Ring, he hadn't thought--

And then, they are kissing. The lava creeps closer and Orodruin continues to throw its fit that something so foul as his little Ring was thrown into its maw, and Bilbo doesn't care, because Thorin is kissing him. Tears slip down both their faces now -- knowing that this is it. Their last moment in Arda and they've put it off too long.

The world is ending around them, but this?

It is everything.

Ask prompts here.

[ this author assures you that they get saved by the Eagles after this ]

[archangelarch]

Precipice

Bilbo takes teasing a touch too far.

Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield || Wordcount: 786 || Contains: Edging, Teasing, Handjobs, Blowjobs, Desperation, Restraints

———

Bilbo couldn’t deny there was a decadent thrill to seeing Thorin get sharp with frustration, especially when it was within a safe scenario with no actual threat to their persons. In bed, for example. And when it came to scenarios in bed, few were safer and more thrilling (and more frustrating for Thorin) than when Bilbo had the King Under the Mountain tied down. 

“Petty fox,” huffed Thorin, straining through his teeth. They were the first words he had spoken in Westron after a bout of what Bilbo assumed were quite nasty curses in Khuzdûl. “You would deny your king this way?” 

“I’d say I’m indulging you plenty, my love,” cooed Bilbo with an innocent tilt of the head. He gave Thorin’s weeping cock a long slow stroke in his hand, slicking it with the spit earned from his generous, albeit teasing and strategic, tasting of it moments prior. “And you're not the king of this bed. When you’re a guest, it’s only polite to defer to your host.”

“All this deferring is vengeful torture, and you take cruel delight in it,” growled Thorin. His attempt at an intimidating glare was lost on Blibo with his current position between the dwarf’s legs, each of Thorin's ankles and both wrists bound to the four posters of the bed.

Bilbo slowed his hand when Thorin bucked his hips up, giving a tutting pout. Thorin’s dark blue eyes were shining with intensity that made Bilbo shiver at the rough retaliation that was likely being planned behind them, but he was deterred none. 

“If you admit you were wrong, I’ll let you come,” Bilbo stated simply. He curled his fingers with just a bit more pressure and Thorin shuddered a gasp—he was achingly close. Bilbo has kept him in that desperate swollen state for longer than he had ever ventured to before, emboldened by the position of power he held and indulging in it. 

“Minx,” grumbled Thorin, his plump hairy chest heaving and glistening with sweat. “This is quite the tactic to win an argument.”  

“That’s not all it’s about,” countered Bilbo. “But yes, quite the tactic indeed, isn’t it?” Without warning, he tightened his hold and quickened his strokes, grinning at the deep wavering groan and the curved brow that it pulled from Thorin. “I’d say it’s nearly worked.” 

“Don’t you dare stop this time,” warned Thorin, but his tone was far closer to a beg than a threat. “Bilbo—” 

“Say it, and I’ll let you finish in my mouth, dear.” 

A sharp swear in Khuzdûl, then the closest thing to a whine the hobbit had ever heard from Thorin. 

“I was wrong,” he finally gasped, his great muscles pulling taut and arching a little as his peak drew so very close. His words began to tumble together in a desperate ramble. “You would know the metals of your antiques better than I—I must have been mistaken.”

Bilbo slowed back down, grinning with satisfaction. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Burglar, I swear—”

Before Thorin could try to murder him with his eyes, Bilbo bent at the waist and brought his smug smile to the flushed head of Thorin’s cock, replacing his hand with his mouth. He couldn’t take more than half of it, but he bobbed diligently as fast as he was able, lapping with his tongue and noisily suckling. 

The guttural moan Thorin sang at that was heavenly, and most certainly heard by at least a neighbour or two. Bilbo didn’t care. As much as he had enjoyed making Thorin wait for his release, he enjoyed servicing him just as much. 

“Bilbo, ‘ibinê—!” 

The king’s peak arrived with far fewer words of praise and encouragement than usual, but one could easily understand why. It had surprised the both of them, crashing all at once over Thorin and leaving him thrusting up into Bilbo’s mouth. The poor hobbit gagged a little as Thorin’s hot cum was shot deeper in his throat than he could easily take, and though he managed to hold on until Thorin’s orgasm ran dry, he had quite the cough to clear the tickle left there, plus a few tears. 

Thorin was much calmer after coming down from his peak, humming with satisfaction. 

“It makes it better, doesn’t it?” rasped Bilbo, still smug as he pawed at his watery eyes. “It’s more intense if you draw out the finale.” 

“I can think of a quite a few other ways to make things more intense,” rumbled Thorin, peering at Bilbo through heavy lashes. He cracked a bit of a smirk as he admired his hobbit flushed and teary with spend and spit dripping from his lips. “Untie me, little minx, and I’ll return the favour.” 

[crossingbaranduin]

I should really make a WIP masterpost sometime soon just for the hell of it + as motivation to complete some of em 🤔

[charlotte-zophie]

With one step, Thorin closed the distance between them and gently placed his right hand on Bilbo's cheek, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he finally felt the hobbit's soft skin under his fingers.

Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes.

"Thorin? What are you doing? Why...? I mean... I thought you couldn't feel anything for me and that's why you left?"

A tear made its way from the corner of Bilbo's eye to Thorin's fingers.

Thorin tenderly wiped it away and leant forward, whispering in Bilbo's ear in a low, slightly raspy voice, " You mean everything to me Amrâlimê. And turning my back on you was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. And i regret every single second that i wasn't near you. Even if i don't deserve it, I hope that you will give me the chance to prove myself worthy of you and that one day you can forgive me for my unspeakable behavior." He let out a deep shuddering sigh, "I thought it would be safest for you if I disappeared from your life. But now i know it was the worst decision I've ever made in my life! Please, forgive me."

With a sob, Bilbo pressed himself violently angainst Thorin and wrapped his arms around his neck while burying his hands in Thorin's thick black hair.

"You incorrigible, terribly thickheaded, stubborn, loveable stonehead!" Bilbo sobbed into the crook of Thorin's neck, "Of course I forgive you my heart! For if I did not, I would die!"

An incredulous an infinitely relieved smile split Thorin's face and he wrapped his strong arms around his hobbit's waist as he took a few steps back until his legs hit a rock, on which he sat down and pulled Bilbo onto his lap.

He looked at him with watery eyes and a beaming smile and marvelled at this incredible creature with the infinitely wide heart that he loved more than anything else in this world.

"I love you." he breathed and Bilbo's eyes shone as he approached his face ever so slowly and whispered delicately on his lips, " And I love you for as long as I live."

And whit that, he closed the last barely noticeable distance between them and finally, after what felt like eons, their lips joined in a sparking kiss that made everything around them go blissfully unaware and they realised for the first time in both their lives that they were whole.

[mithrilhearts]

Maeve's 4k Follower Event

Battle of the Plot Bunnies Finals!

Wow!! This has been such an exciting event, and honestly, some of these polls turned out WAY different than I anticipated (which makes it very fun) - so thank you to everyone who has participated! I can't wait to see what project comes out on top for this last poll.

As always, thank you for your continued support! I enjoy writing, and to see people still invested in that makes my heart practically glow. I can't wait to unleash some new stories upon you guys (and they are coming! Both Bagginshield and Dragon Age ehehe). Thanks for reading, supporting, and just being there!

✨Feel free to ask my any questions about these fic ideas prior to voting, if you like! I will do my best to answer as quickly as possible!

Happy Voting!

‼️Fic Summaries/Information below!‼️ All information below is subject to change as the fics develop

Sweeter Than Honey - Rated Teen+

Bilbo Baggins runs a successful honey farm on the west side of the Brandywine River. His peaceful days of honey handicraft grow tense as a new logging company, owned by one Thror Oakes, draws closer to his land. It’s how he meets Thorin, a lumberjack living under the thumb of his grandfather, the owner. They should have been adversaries - the two are on opposite sides of nature, but as it is so often said: opposites attract. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Twice In A Lifetime - Rated Mature

Just days before the siege on the Dimrill Gate, Thorin voices his guilt about his inability to keep his people safe when Smaug took the mountain. In the middle of an angry prayer to Mahal himself, the ringing of an anvil is the last thing Thorin remembers before waking up within the rolling green hills of the Shire. It’s there he’s greeted by a set of hazels he’d never forget. Not in this lifetime. - Outdated Ficlet

[smolestboop]

Thank you for joining Bagginshield-tober!

I cannot express how much I loved October and being able to see everyone's art and fics for Bagginshield-tober! I'm so glad this prompt list has gotten everyone's creative juices flowing and sharing love for our favourite hobbit and dwarf! Here are some mentions (with links) of the lovely works we got from the prompt list! (Please go check them out, they are cool people who deserve more eyes!) Bagginshield-tober fics! 🌻 Stealing Moments, Moments Away by @conkers-theficwriter 🌻 Bagginshield-tober Series by @lucigoo 🌻 Barrels Ficlet (slightly steamy) by @sinisterbug 🌻 Bagginshield-tober Series by @wolfsbane-and-nettles 🌻 Company Ficlet (and others!) by @lingeringmirth Bagginshield-tober art! (check out their blogs to see their other art!) 🍞 Breakfast and others! by @bubblus 🍞 Breakfast by @fey-woodlands 🍞 Braids and others! by @morningnoodles 🍞 Gemstones by @the-eggplant 🍞 Tail by @twixycookie15 🍞 Retire + Flowers (and others!) by @lonicera-edulis

If there is anyone I missed, feel free to reach out to me and I'll include you in the list. Again, thank you so much for joining and I hope October was a fun month for you as much as it was for me! But wait! October may be over but there's no rules to any of this so use the prompt list whenever! Farewell and tea is at four!

[green-fifteen]

Day 7: Cloak

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield

Word count: 437

written for @fluffyfebruary

If anyone had bothered to ask Bilbo his opinion about their current situation, they'd have heard curses blue enough to put old Maggot to shame. As it was, everyone already knew how Bilbo felt.

He'd told them before they left: "I shall come along to see the ruins, but I am not sleeping on the ground again. I've had quite enough of that." One member of their party, someone who now suffered the icy cold shoulder of the Consort Under the Mountain, had assured him they would be finished with the survey in time to return to the Mountain.

Dwarf and Man (and especially Fili Durinson) avoided the Hobbit's eyes as they settled down to sleep in the ruined courtyard of what was once a great house of Dale. That is, all but one Dwarf, who hovered close at Bilbo's shoulder, tugged to and fro by his grip on his cloak.

"Burglar," said Thorin Oakenshield. "What are you looking for?"

His husband was searching the stone floor of the courtyard, shuffling around the perimeter with his eyes down.

"I am looking for the dustiest spot," he said. His voice was high and cross. Thorin smiled at the top of his head.

"And why are you looking for the dustiest spot?"

Bilbo huffed and turned around, one hand still buried in Thorin's mantle.

"Must you question me?" he said, and then, "If the stones are dustier in one place than another, it follows that the wind must be milder there." He did not say This is very simple, do keep up, but Thorin understood it, anyway.

"The wind? You are cold?"

"Not as yet-- but if I'm to sleep on a slab of rock, I daresay I will be."

Thorin looked around as Bilbo led them. He pointed to a nearly enclosed area between two low walls.

"Look there," he murmured in the Hobbit's ear. He walked them both into the little square. "There will be no wind in this space. I have found shelter in spaces like it, and on much windier nights than this one."

Bilbo sniffed, scuffing his shoe against the stone. "It is fairly clean here."

"The better for my cloak."

The Hobbit narrowed his eyes. "If I freeze over like a leaf in winter, you will live to regret it, my King."

"You are ever compromising, my Hobbit." He was smirking at him in a way Bilbo found awfully charming.

He sighed and released Thorin's cloak.

They slept long and sound that night and in the morning, much refreshed, Bilbo let Fili hand him a sandwich and did not even glare at him.

[cilil]

Scribbles & Drabbles overview

An overview of my works for @fall-for-tolkien's Scribbles & Drabbles event!

𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟐𝟓𝒕𝒉 ~ now live!

𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒈(𝒆𝒓) 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

✧˖ "Wings Of War, Beating No More" for @ruiniel

Two Maiar meet after the war, one chasing a long lost lover, the other seeking something else. [Eönwë x Mairon]

✧˖ "Of Secret Shadow" for @ruiniel

A Maia awakens with no memories of who she used to be. Melkor offers her a second chance. [Thuringwethil character exploration]

✧˖ "The King's and Queen's Comfort" for @the-red-butterfly

After discovering the Dwarves and arguing with Aulë, Yavanna seeks comfort from her fellow Valar. Manwë and Varda take care of her until her sorrows and worries are soothed. [Threesome, smut]

✧˖ "Floating World" for @melkors-big-tits

After tedious war meetings at the Emperor's palace, Mairon decides to enjoy himself in the capital's most renowned brothel, the Taniquetil. As he searches for a courtesan to catch his interest, he finds something rather unexpected - something the Emperor himself has attempted to keep hidden... [Angbang, Edo Japan AU]

𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕(𝒆𝒓) 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

✧˖ "Shrine to Melkor" for @cclumsyart

There are shrines to all Ainur in Valinor, even the fallen and disgraced among them. In which Nienna visits Melkor's shrine and reminisces.

✧˖ "Shrine to Námo" for @cclumsyart

There are shrines to all Ainur in Valinor, even the fallen and disgraced among them. In which a mysterious visitor seeks out Námo's shrine to pray for a loved one.

𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓

✧˖ "Electricity between both of us" (Glorestor ficlets) for @sortumavaara

✧˖ "Of hunters, horses and other hijinks" (ficlets centered around Aredhel, Celegorm, Oromë, dogs and horses) for @ela-draws and @goschatewabn

✧˖ "Of Fire and Feathers" (Gothmog x Eönwë | Firebird ficlets) for @i-did-not-mean-to

✧˖ "5 times Melkor came for coffee & 1 time Mairon got himself a snack" (Angbang Coffeeshop AU) for @melkors-big-tits

✧˖ "Miscellaneous Melkor Mayhem" (naughty Melkor ficlets) for @melkors-big-tits

✧˖ "Handmaiden's Tale" (Melkor x Tulkas, dead dove - please heed the warnings) for @melkors-big-tits

✧˖ "Brotherly Love" (Melkor x Manwë, dead dove - please heed the warnings) for @melkors-big-tits

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔

✧˖ "Silver & Gold" for @welcomingdisaster

Míriel and Indis, silver and gold. A moment of tenderness and passion. [Smut]

✧˖ "Moonrise" for @niennawept

Watching the moon in the sky, Aredhel remembers. [Aredhel x Tilion]

✧˖ "Heart" for @mulasawala

[Modern verse, Bagginshield, Thorin has a band] Thorin comes back from his tour and reunites with his boyfriend.

✧˖ "Sweet Oil" for @z-h-i-e

Maitimo and Tyelkormo cook together. Nothing could possibly go wrong, especially nothing related to suspicious bottles and ingredients not meant for cooking.

✧˖ "A private conversation" for @sortumavaara

[AU in which Nerdanel and Anairë are co-rulers of Tirion after the departure of their husbands] Nerdanel and Anairë discuss the future of the Noldor in Valinor and the challenges they face.

✧˖ "The Meadow" for @ruiniel

[AU in which Míriel and Indis are engaged, no Finwë in sight] Míriel and Indis, strolling through Valinor together.

✧˖ "Ascension" for @the-red-butterfly

The king is dead, and Thranduil has to ascend.

✧˖ "Checking In" for @fishing4stars

Galadriel and Celeborn enjoy a game of chess.

✧˖ "Play, Pleasure & Passion" for Lferion

Nerdanel and Fëanor get ready for a night of passion.

✧˖ "Jelly and Gemstone" for @i-did-not-mean-to

A certain suspicious gem has turned up once again, and Ossë chases down a mischievous little water spirit to get it back.

✧˖ "The Start of the Journey" for @elennalore

Fëanor and Nerdanel, after their first journey together.

✧˖ "Alliance" for @goschatewabn

A chance meeting between Fëanor and Indis leads to something Finwë didn't expect.

✧˖ "Northern Lights" for Anne_Wolfe

How Arien lost a loved one and how northern lights came to be. [Arien x Mairon]

✧˖ "Only one bed (and a Balrog on it)" for @i-did-not-mean-to

A Balrog and a vampire are looking for a place to nap. Unfortunately, there is only one bed. [Nári (OC) & Thuringwethil]

✧˖ "Ever upon the shores" for @searchingforserendipity25

Wandering upon the shores, Maglor wonders if the powers that used to be his allies have utterly forsaken him. [Maglor & Ulmo, Ossë, Uinen]

✧˖ "You have mail (delivered by the Lord of Dreams himself)" for @i-did-not-mean-to

Irmo has a gift for Melkor. Melkor is not happy.

✧˖ "A New Age" for @ruiniel

[Dark cyber!Valar AU in which Melkor won the Dagor Dagorath and the Valar were captured, trapped in their fánar and twisted into new forms] They all were changed by Melkor's dark arts, and everything seems lost. Nienna, however, still has her brothers.

✧˖ "The Sorrows of Young Maedhros" for @goschatewabn

[Set during Maitimo's awkward teenage years] In which little brothers are exhausting, Fëanor and Nerdanel are trying their best and Maitimo just wants to keep a secret in peace.

✧˖ "Ineffable, Inconceivable Future" for @i-did-not-mean-to

Námo has a gift for Manwë - though is it quite what it appears to be?

✧˖ "They Loved Him For His Beauty" for @the-red-butterfly

Eärendil loses his ship during a storm, yet somehow wakes up very much alive. Who saved him? And how will he get to Valinor now?

✧˖ "Delightful Secret" for @sortumavaara

Celebrían has been turned into a man and intends to make use of it. Elrond finally admits to a certain secret fantasy he's always harboured. [Smut]

[sinisterbug]

Bagginshieldtober Prompt #9: Song

I started writing a song themed ficlet and it turned into a Khuzdul themed ficlet. It still counts technically as song-themed lol. I think maybe Ill do a part 2 of this for the Khuzdul prompt.

Warnings: Bagginshield, gen

Credits: @thedwarrowscholar for the Neo-Khuzdul translation of Durin's Song

Dwalin normally wasn’t one to hide his annoyance. Living amongst princes and being responsible in whole for their well-being, and in part for their rearing, the guard captain had long ago understood that he and his brother were among the unlucky few whom had the displeasure of saying “no” to Thorin Oakenshield, and many years later, too, to his terror nephews and heirs. Even Dis, who was usually the picture of restraint and amiability in her role as the Queen Mother, occasionally needed to be reminded why it wouldn’t do to have this or that courtier poisoned, just because they slighted her or her sons. Just last week, Balin had to talk her down from ordering the execution of Lady Norfi, who Dis thought had crossed the lines of propriety by batting her eyelashes at their king in front of his rightful hobbit consort.

This was to say, he wasn’t one of those people who had to worry about holding his breath and curtseying to the right person. He was free to show his annoyance, anger, or even pleasure at his discretion. Still, in times like these, he did his best not to sigh outwardly. His king looked so besotted, after all, watching his consort putter about the study, watering plants, and fussing over Mahal-knew-what. Thorin, mostly. It was as if the king of Erebor simply couldn’t hear what was coming out of his beloved consort’s mouth.

The day Bilbo Baggins had started to learn Khuzdul was the day Dwalin’s permanent headache had taken residence in his skull and never left. Of all things, Balin had thought it would be a good idea to teach him to sing their language first. Would that his brother had thought to set the wee sprite to poetry, or some quieter means of study.

The lad’s voice wasn’t bad, quite the opposite, different as it was from what his people usually preferred. It was just… amazing, really, how every single word he said was wrong.

“Kamon adda kim, uhbadaton danawk

Laksmabe kaya Kamon adda masakewl-”

It was painful to hear the sacred words of their history butchered so. For Mahal’s sake, no one should be allowed to disrespect Durin’s Song this way. It was Kâmin ‘atta khim, ‘abbad ‘atôn danakh, NOT kaMON adda kim—

He ground his teeth and counted the minutes before Thorin was supposed to leave for council. 

***

Bilbo chirped, “Aaglibee du sullu ‘aimugaleek umralul hagaas!” as Dwalin hurried down the corridor, suddenly quite eager to leave his king’s side. The hobbit sniggered, he couldn’t help it, but quickly looked around to see that no guards were observing him too closely. Thorin hadn’t missed it though, and he held out his elbow for Bilbo to take even as he gave him a reproachful look.

“It isn’t so much pestering Dwalin that I object to, mesmel,” Thorin said as they slowly made their way to their chambers after a very long day of ruling the mountain. He patted Bilbo’s hand, now heavier with bejeweled rings than ever before.

“Oh? You have objections, Your Majesty?” Bilbo responded airily. “Pray, count your grievances. You’ll find your subject a willing audience.”

Thorin’s countenance remained serene, but the noise he made in the back of his throat betrayed his good humored incredulity. 

“I do not want my people to spread rumors that my consort is an imbecile, when the truth is quite the opposite.”

It was Bilbo’s turn to scoff and he returned Thorin’s gesture, patting his hand placatingly. “We’ll simply spread the rumor of the truth. That your consort enjoys toying with your guard-captain, who is the real imbecile for believing I can’t comprehend Khuzdul conjugations or pronunciation after having mastered Sindarin, three tongues of Mannish, and becoming passable at Quenya.”

Thorin just shook his head and snorted softly, and together they harmonized sweetly, and with impeccable pronunciation, as they retreated to their chambers for the night.

Kâmin ‘atta khim, ‘abbad ‘atôn danakh

Laks mabekh aya Kâmin ‘ata masakhul

Galabî mabekh masharghiful aya’ ul fa’aban

Tân Durin Bekena ra besena zislal

Kharama hanâd ra zarsbizâr binakhrâm

Sheleka udu ’amâd binmasamkul na

Kurusifa  ra sakhaba ni kheled-zâram