#bilbo is missing once again

[minahwa]

redraw of my old work

scene from @halfelven’s ‘so late in returning’ fic

[fantasyinallforms]

Alright, we've got to talk about this scene because for a scene as short as this one, it packs a huge punch! They manage to cram a frankly impressive amount of information into less than a min. This will be a long one so strap in and let's start at the very beginning, right after Ori asks, "What about Bilbo?"

Up until this point, we have only ever heard Thorin's voice crack once. Just once, and that was when he thought that he missed his chance to enter Erebor. A huge defining moment in this quest. The second time was right here when he said, "Give him more time." Please note how Thorin is standing. Hands pressed together and head bent, his back completely turned to the mountain. He doesn't even turn his head until Balin utters the word "Killed".

Now Here Thorin says, "You're afraid." He does it in an almost accusatory way and directly after Balin finishes his above sentence. I truly think this is because he has been sitting here dreading Bilbo's fate for hours. This, combined with the dragon sickness that's starting to take hold, wreaking havoc on his psyche. In this moment, the lines between Bilbo and the treasure are getting blurred. His face is a picture of discontent and fear. So in usual Thorin fashion, he lashes out. He voices his fear to Balin as an accusation. I don't think anything articulates how bizarre Thorin is acting more than the below gif.

Balin fully leans away from him in shock, eyes searching this face before going on to say that he fears for him with tears in his eyes. Thorin is at war with himself. He's at war with the growing greed pumping through his veins, and how much he cares and worries for Bilbo. His love for Bilbo is winning because he is desperately forcing himself to detach Bilbo from himself. They go out of their way in the next 13 seconds to tell us that multiple separate times! I will break those down for you now.

Let's start here with this line and how it's said. Time and time again, clearly on and off screen, Thorin has shown his regard for Bilbo. The handful of time we see is not enough to invoke this strong of a reaction from Balin, a Dwarf who has known him his entire life. Would not hesitate is a powerful choice of words. Think of the things you would not hesitate to save from death or destruction. They're all things you love, things you can't live without. That is what Balin is implying Bilbo is to Thorin. Balin knows the depth of Thorin's affection.

And here we have the response and the third time we ever hear Thorin's voice crack and stutter. He chooses to call him "burglar" and forces the words out through his teeth like a curse, like he's fighting something. The statement in and of itself is an obvious lie. He has risked his life for Bilbo multiple times. The trolls, the cliffside, even when Bard threatened them, and he practically glued himself to Bilbo's side.

That brings us to this moment. This is right after the dragon's roar. The look of pure panic at Balin's words. He looks at the door, and the battle between Bilbo and the Arkenstone flips to Bilbo like a light switch. In this moment, Bilbo is more important. He rushes through the door into fiery danger, and the relief in his voice when he sees Bilbo, is clearly audible. Now we all know in the next scene, he holds Bilbo at sword point, and it flickers again. After that, however, Thorin's sickness seems to reconcile Bilbo and the treasure as one thing. Why else would he give him the second most valuable thing in the hoard? Treasure can't steal treasure.

I do have a theory that if Bilbo had revealed the stone, Thorin would not have been upset. It was only when he gave it away that it was deemed betrayal in the highest order.

[fili-urzudel]

Hello!! Could you do 14, 15 and 31 with Fili? Romantic or platonic, up to you. Thank you 💜

13. Sitting together

14. Handholding

15. Sharing a blanket (potentially violent)

31. Stargazing

This combination is classic and oh-so-fluffy, and with my favorite Dwarf to boot! I went ahead and added another prompt as well.

Everyone lives AU, because there is no other ending in my mind.

BTW I'm sick :( but I'm going to try to get at least one other prompt request out this week

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Moonrise - Fíli Durin x Reader

The Durin's Day festival was always fun, but it was all the more spectacular in the newly reclaimed Erebor.

"The first autumn equinox since the mountain was reclaimed, can you believe it?" Fíli said with a bright smile, looking with pride at the crisscrossing bridges and vaulted ceilings of the entrance to the mountain. There was still plenty of work to be done, to be sure, but its improvement was impressive regardless.

"And in a couple days, the anniversary of when it was reclaimed," you nodded in agreement. "A few months after that, the anniversary of the first time you walked around by yourself."

"Hush, I'm trying to enjoy this," Fíli gave you a fake scowl, unconsciously probing the scar hidden beneath his tunic.

You changed directions. "Of course, my Prince," you teased. "You look very nice today."

You meant it. His hair was freshly washed, the slightly damp strands frizzing out in the cool morning air. Each bead was carefully placed, a few decorative gold ones added in place of a crown. His tunic was a smooth yet understated silk underneath his leather vest and wool coat. Every detail was precisely placed, the burnt oranges and browns blending seamlessly. He had clearly been seen to with the utmost care. He looked like royalty, even without the royal garb. Most importantly, he was healthy.

His smile softened, his cheeks turning a bit pink under his mustache. "Thank you," he glanced to the ground before looking back up at you. "And you're beautiful as ever."

You blushed deeper than him, unused to compliments. You plucked at the placket of your own wool coat, dyed a deep woad blue. It was your favorite. "Thank you," you said, choosing for once to believe him. "What duties do you have today?"

"None, surprisingly," Fíli breathed. "Thorin's let me have a break, so I can enjoy the first festival in our new home right alongside you." Something about that little word, our, set your heart ablaze. "You want to stick with me?"

"If you'll have me," he smiled again. That smile was impossible to resist.

"Of course I will."

Erebor had been steadily growing over the past year, but that day, it seemed more alive than ever. The market squares were full, overflowing into the wide side streets. Jewelry, blades, shields, ceramics, sculptures--anything made out of earth or in forges were certainly found somewhere in the expansive space. The Ereborian dwarves' tentative friendship with the Men of Dale caused new, less traditional stands to pop up as well: flower stalls, street food vendors featuring fish dishes, and clothing and homeware shops full of bolts of linen. The mountain had only dwarves—and Bilbo—in its halls, a presently rare occurrence, and so you were all free to speak Khuzdul, the sharp sounds ringing pleasantly in your ears.

The two of you strolled as quickly as possible through all the markets had to offer, determined not to miss the afternoon's performances. You exercised exemplary self-restraint, only stopping at one of every five stalls that caught your eye.

"No," became a very popular word as well, what with resisting Fíli's unceasing offers to purchase anything you liked.

"Well, if you will not spend any of your share of the treasure, I must spend some of mine and relieve what must be the terrible, stifling boredom of your living quarters, my friend," he teased, mustache beads swinging from side to side.

"I will have no prince wasting his money on me."

"Oh, it's never a waste if it's you," Fíli told you surely.

There he went again, saying things that made your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. "You're too kind."

Fíli smirked at the way you diverted your gaze. "Well, if I cannot buy you a rug, at least allow me to buy you lunch," he gestured to a permanent restaurant on the corner that was swarmed with dwarrow.

You couldn't help a smile at that. "Hot stew?" You asked, referring to the almost overpoweringly spicy meat-and-potato stew that was a dwarven classic. Benron's was your favorite.

"As hot as you like, of course," He agreed, guiding you forward with a gentle hand on your back.

The stew made your eyes stream in the best way, and you pulled Fíli out of the restaurant scarcely once he was finished eating. "We have to find good seats!" You reasoned as he raised an eyebrow, still wiping his mouth.

"You do realize that Thorin has the best seats, and by extension, we do as well?"

"Right," you said. You had forgotten. Somehow, none of the Durins were royalty in your mind. They were still your traveling companions, dirt poor and looked at as crazy.

"Still, it is sort of nice to take a seat before everyone starts filtering in and it gets too loud," Fíli reassured you. "After you."

The grand presentation began with a song to the mountain. In the ancient tradition, singing was a way to ask the mountain to reveal its secrets, a careful gathering of tones that would uncover its nature.

This song, however, was made more to please the ears of the listener. It was a song of thanks, of hardly believing that this mountain was once again the shelter for her people. You tried your best to control the tears that rose to your eyes.

Fíli leaned over, bumping your shoulder with his. You gave a small smile that he returned, and you could see in his eyes that he was thinking of all that it took to get there.

"We did it," you whispered.

"Yeah, we did."

The opening songs were followed by traditional dances, a speed-forging competition, and a few spars. You cheered on the brothers as they fought each other, with a healthy dose of brotherly teasing. Fíli let his little brother win, or so he told you. The look on Kíli's face was more than worth it. You congratulated him and let them both clean up as you headed to the gates.

The gates were still open, cool air pouring into the mountain as the sun dropped in the sky.

Dale was dimmer than usual—the city was empty. The men were lining the edge of the water with candles. This equinox now also marked the anniversary of the fall of Laketown and many of their loved ones. The dwarves tried their best to be respectful of their vigil.

You leaned against the wall and watched. You hoped they found peace and remembered to enjoy their new lives. Bard, standing at the back of the group, turned around. He caught your eye and nodded.

"Come with me, I think we should see something," Fíli's low whisper startled you from your reverie, and his hand wrapping around yours even more so.

"Where are we going?" You asked, not that it mattered. With his hand in yours, you'd probably follow him anywhere.

He led you on a trek around the front of the mountain, the setting sun turning everything orange and making his hair appear as flames as you went.

Caught in the daze of bliss, it took you a while to notice what was draped over his other arm. "Wait, is that—I told you not to buy that!"

It was the woven blanket you had noticed earlier, the tapestry depicting sunrays falling through a thick forest of firs. "And what if I bought this for myself? I have uses for it."

"Then it's alright, I suppose."

"You can keep it once I'm done with it, though."

"Sly fox."

"Coin pincher."

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" You asked.

Fíli smiled at you. "A certain very large staircase."

You gasped. "Leading to a secret doorway?"

"The very same. I figured, since we were both trying to help Kili, erm, not die, we missed the excitement, and now we can see it for ourselves."

"That's extraordinarily thoughtful of you."

"Eh, I'd say averagely thoughtful at best," Fíli shrugged.

"Perfectly suitable for me," you told him.

"Good."

The achingly long trip up the staircase was rewarded with a very nice sight: another, less decorative blanket spread across the stone, a couple flat pillows, and three lanterns, already lit and ready to face the darkness.

"When did you find time to do this?" You asked Fíli, grinning from ear to ear.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "And help."

"That's where Bofur, Bilbo, and Dori disappeared to," you observed. "I see. Well, it's very sweet of all of you."

"I'm glad you think so," Fíli said, still holding your hand as he guided you to sit on the blanket with him.

The stairs had taken longer than anticipated, so the sun was already almost gone. You quieted as you realized how close the time was. The two of you watched in quiet admiration as the moon rose, bright and perfect, into the sky, before you turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door.

You gasped. "There it is!" The moonrise revealed the shape of a perfectly hidden keyhole. "That is very neat, indeed."

"Mmhm," Fíli agreed. "Beautiful." The keyhole was not what he thought was beautiful. He wasn't actually looking at the door at all, but rather you, and the way the moonlight reflected off every spectacular detail of your face.

He had never known quite when he started to feel this way, only that he didn't in the Blue Mountains, when he barely knew you, and he did now.

You turned your gaze from the keyhole once the wonder had made a comfortable space in your heart, and looked to the stars, all too aware of how close Fíli was.

You read out the constellations to yourself in the comfortable silence, assuming the prince was doing the same. You then heard him shift.

"Lay with me," Fíli offered, and you turned around in record time, cheeks blazing and eyes wide.

"What?"

He was already lying down with his head on one of the pillows. "To watch the stars more comfortably."

"Alright," you said, voice quiet. You scooted down until you could lay your head on the other pillow, before changing your mind. You decided to take a risk and settle your head on his chest instead.

"Is this alright?" You asked immediately. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable in this situation.

"Of course it is," he said softly, his arm raising to hold your waist. "I enjoy being close to you."

It wasn't quite a grand confession, but it was good enough for your heart to begin hammering in your chest. "I enjoy being close to you, too."

[luna-writes-stuff]

Eternally Missed, Bilbo Baggins

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Fluff, mutual pining/oblivious reader

Word count: 3295

Tw: Not proofread. Race not specified, but could be implied as dwarvish. Self-degrading thoughts, mutual pining. Will they, won’t they. Slight angst. Misinterpreted feelings and actions. Oblivious reader, oops. That’s it?

Summary: Ever since laying eyes on your first, Bilbo knew it was you who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He tries to make this clear incredibly quick, fully aware of how little time he may have. But you were as oblivious as they came, and dismissed his proposals as platonic gestures. Until finally, he snaps, and just decides to tell you.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

Throughout the journey, you could only be described as truly oblivious. Maybe not in your eyes, but definitely in those of the company. Their beloved burglar had fallen absolutely head over heels with you, yet there was something within you that simply seemed to not acknowledge it.

In hindsight, you might have seen it, or might have had a slight idea of what was happening, but the last thing you wanted to do was to get your hopes up. Thus, it was mere matter of a polite smile and dismissal without making it sound like a dismissal. You didn’t want to let him down, even though you had no idea of his true intentions.

You see, during the entire time of your travel to Erebor, Bilbo has tried to make it abundandly clear how fond he is of you. But between the running from imminent death, enemies luring around every corner and getting imprisoned every once in a while, the moments were never opportune enough. It didn’t mean that he didn’t try, but clearly, the ambiance was wrong. If he ever wanted to court someone, he’d propose it in his garden, under the clear nightsky of Hobbiton with a warm breeze in the air. Not after recovering for breath after having to run for thirty whole minutes, or in the dirty atmosphere of the Goblin caves. But fate did not seem to be on his side whatsoever. But he was nothing if not adamant.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

The first time wanted to make his intentions clear during your stay in Rivendell. The dwarves had been bathing when he approached you, doubt and anxiety apparent in his features - but then again, when wasn’t it?

He had sat down next to you on one of the balconies, talking about anything but the mountain and the now known presence of the orcs. He had spoken about his home in the Shire fondly, recounting many tales of friends and neighbours. It was a nice distraction after the adrenaline of the travel had worn off.

In turn, you had spoken about your home and those waiting for you. He remembered the hesitance in his voice when he asked you about a suitor. You hadn’t even properly answered him at that to begin with. At first, you began to laugh, and talked about your parents. He thought you were mocking him, even though that was extremely unlinke you. But when you continued to rant and talk, it appeared to him that you had no idea what he was actually asking you. And he didn’t have it in him to correct you or to properly ask you. Perhaps it was a bit too early. You just met a handful of days ago.

Fortunately, he did not leave it at that.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

The second time he tried was when the group was making their way out of Rivendell. He had gotten some good rest and found himself comfortable enough to bring the conversation back up.

But you were distracted. He couldn’t tell back then, but he certainly could now. The talk with Bilbo had left you somewhat homesick. The comfort of Rivendell was almost begging for you to stay. You wanted to help the dwarves - more than anything, but you understood the comfort hobbits sought in their own homes.

You had given him brief, one-worded answers, your gaze absent. It had broken his heart that day. If you weren’t making your disinterest clear the day before, you certainly had then. It caused him to be silent for the rest of the travels until you crossed the mountains. Much to his relief, you stayed close to him, and didn’t part during the fight of the giants, but the new hit of adrenaline caused him to cling to you the entire time, a mutual action. Neither of you had realized how close the two of you were until you were roughly separated after a rough boulder collided between the two of you.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

That night in the cave you kept circling Bilbo. He had almost fallen from the cliff if it hadn’t been for Thorin. And the idea made you inexplicably sick. You liked Thorin, even as he had been harsh from the start, but the fact that you weren’t able to dangle off the cliff to save Bilbo had left you feeling somewhat powerless. And the only comfort you could offer the hobbit was your company and your tales.

It had caused his hopes to resurface again. Of everyone out there, you wanted to sit with him, and talk with him. Perhaps your absent answers were simply because you were tired, or too focused.

He didn’t know how to bring the topic back up, though. It had caused an awkward silence after you finished your talk. He still couldn’t quite tell if he was grateful for the floor to - literally - fall through or not.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

The first time he swore he could have kissed you, was after Azog’s confrontation with Thorin. The battle had left the king defenseless, and you had rushed to his aid. At your actions, Bilbo blindly followed, making sure his eyes were on you constantly. The eagles had come just in time to sweep you off to safety, but the entire flight had left him nauseous. If it wasn’t for Gandalf, both you and Thorin would have lain on that floor, completely lifeless. To make matters even worse, you had landed on a different eagle. So, Bilbo had no choice but to simply sit there with a heavy feeling in his stomach until he could finally stand again.

And when he did, he rushed towards you. This could have been his moment. He could have swung his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him, his lips finally touching yours in a manner he was only able to dream off, but when you stood a few inches from him, something in him had told him to stop.

In that moment, you swore he was going to kiss you. Instead, he gave you an uncomfortable hug, followed by two brief pats on the back. He had turned around immediatelym refusing to let you see his reddening face, leaving you with a slight frown. If he was going to kiss you, you might have just let it happen.

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist.

Making me feel.”

The rest of the journey had been awful for him. In his mind, that awkward reunion kept lingering. His chance had been right there and he refused to take it for whatever reason. And to top it all of; you seemed to grow more distant from him, and it hurt him deeply. It bothered him so much, that eventually, the company began catching on. Fili was the first one to notice, and had given him a good talk about courtship and whatnot. It was all in good nature, but it had left Bilbo with more details than he might have wanted.

But simple hints in conversation seemed to not do the trick. And maybe dwarven courting ideals weren’t the best, but they were certainly worth the try. When he made his first move according to Fili’s advice, more dwarves began to catch on.

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

He had taken his sweet time hunting down anything he could find. Food, especially for you, to prove that - in Fili’s words - he could provide. But when he had a chance of slaying a rabbit, he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he came back with fresh mushroom, some non-poisonous berries and leaves that would make an excellent soup. It wasn’t hunting, but it still gave him the idea that - yes; he could provide.

You didn’t think much of. You find it nice, and thanked him fondly for it. Yet, there were others in the company that might have been hungry, so you gave it to Bombur, so he could use it in his meal for the group. Bilbo had told you this was okay, but he couldn’t help but feel slight heartbreak when you asked him.

He wasn’t being clear enough. Stupidly enough, he seemed to take comfort in Fili’s words, so he had returned to him that same night, telling the dwarf about what had happened. He agreed that you might just need some bolder insinuations. So, it was time for the next part.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

It was at Beorn’s house when he approached you with a small wooden sculpture he made. It couldn’t have been bigger than your palm. It was sloppy and crude, and nowhere near the excellent craft of the dwarves, but Fili assured him that it wouldn’t matter if the feelings and intentions were true. He had tried to create the birds you mentioned in your tales about home. You would speak about them fondly when he asked how your place was.

Again, you accepted the gift with much glee, thanking him an endless amount of times. A warm hug was shared - one that would remain in Bilbo’s mind for a long time. It was soothing, unlike the uncomfortable embrace shared upon the rock. This was heartfelt, and genuine. He remembered thinking that this was it; you had accepted.

But, you stuffed it in your pocket, promising to keep it close, before showing it off to the rest of the company. And that was it. No other words mentioned to him, or even slight hints that you were catching on. You seemed to remain oblivious. Now, Bilbo truly couldn’t tell whether this was because you simply had no idea what was happening, or if this was your way of letting him know you weren’t interested.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

There were so many more times where he tried to make his feelings clear. Countless conversations were held, more gifts were shared, he fought at your side, he would continue to bring you food, even if it was to be shared with the company. And you didn’t seem to catch on to anything.

What Bilbo hadn’t known was the true moment of the defeat you held whilst imprisoned by the woodland elves. Bilbo hadn’t known how you had been sitting against the wall in your cell, your knees up to your chest. He didn’t hear your own degrading words circling around in your mind about how you were just making things up. About how someone as sincere and kind as Bilbo could never show true interest in someone like you. How you had cursed yourself to stop thinking every gift he gave you, was to show you he wanted to court you - even though you were right to think those things.

The dwarves didn’t dare to speak about it. They didn’t know your words, but they knew your looks. They wouldn’t intervene. They knew how precious and fragily courtship was; one wrong word and it could cause huge grief on either side. Women were most treaured in their culture, and they’d rather die than see your heart break into a million pieces if Fili were to slip up or Ori would say something out of their norms.

They didn’t dare to let Bilbo know how helplessly you had told them that Bilbo wouldn’t come for them. That he was off to safety - as you had wished.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

It wasn’t until Smaug had finally been slain that Bilbo decided enough was enough. It wasn’t until Thorin had gone completely mad, that he decided that now would be the excellent time to share yet another one of your precious conversations.

Somewhere in the treasure chamber, you had collapsed behind a huge golden pile. Here, Thorin couldn’t see you. A brief break would surely escape his eyes.

You had shot up at the sound of footsteps, pretending to be searching through the endless piles of jewels. You were tired; your muscles were aching, your head was pounding from the golden light, you were starving and you felt as if you were going to fall asleep if you were to lie down again.

When you noticed Bilbo’s form approaching on top of the mountain you were working on, you uttered a sigh of relief, collapsing once again, knowing he wouldn’t dare to alert Thorin of your short break.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“There you are,” He spoke, not needing to lower his volume, as the clattering of gold bounced off the walls, drowning out enough noise. You looked up at him with a kind smile: “Not much else to go to.” He frowned, sitting down beside you as he studied your features.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” You sighed, rolling your shoulders. “I’m exhausted.” “I can tell.” He muttered, worried evident in his eyes, a glimpse you caught. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” You dismissed, knowing he had no ill intentions. Silence fell over the two of you, though this one wasn’t uncomfortable. In the weirdest location, it brough some sense of peace.

Bilbo fished into his pockets, placing a piece of bread and a small flask on your lap. “I brought you this.” Your heart warmed at the sight, a feather-light feeling entering your chest: “Thank you,” “I couldn’t sneak a full plate in. Thorin would notice.” “This is fine, Bilbo,” You assured, immediately starting your small meal. ”Thank you.”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist.

Making me feel.”

He didn’t quite know what to do when you were eating. He came here with the intention of being honest with you. No turning around anything, no sugar-coating, just the proposal. If it was to be brief and boring, than so be it.

But, once more, something held him back. It didn’t seem right. He was going to run off this night for the Arkenstone, so if you rejected him, he wouldn’t really have to face you afterwards. But a hurtful rejection followed by betrayal might not have been the smartest move either. He was too much in his head when the words suddenly flew out, even surprising him: “Do you like me?”

You stopped chewing at the words, swallowing harshly as you looked at him, confusion in your eyes as your eyebrows furrowed together: “Beg your pardon?”

“You can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

Bilbo recovered quickly, coughing slightly as he tried to defend himself. “It’s just that, throughout the journey, you keep creating distance between us. And we were so close at the beginning.” You nodded your head at that, cursing yourself silently for giving him the completely wrong idea. “Yes,” You hissed. “I do like you, Bilbo. And I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression.”

A huge weight lifted off his shoulders at your words, his chest suddenly feeling a lot less restricting than it suddenly had.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist

Making me feel.”

He watched your hands wander to your pockets, pulling out a familiar pebble as you anxiously toyed with it. Bilbo had given it to you after your escape from Mirkwood. You seemed to not be there completely, so he gave you a rock from the river so you had something to fidget with while Balin talked to Bard. He hadn’t known how much it actually soothed you, if only for the simple though of it.

“You kept that?” He asked curiously. “Of course I did,” You smiled, taking the pebble out of your pocket and laying it in the palm of your hand. “It was a gift. What did you think I would do with it?” “I don’t know.” The hobbit spoke honestly. “I’ve never seen them after I handed them to you.”

You breathed an ‘ah’ of understanding, before storing it back in your coat. “I kept them in my bag. Most of it has been stolen by the elves now, but some things still remain. You didn’t think I’d get rid of them, right?” When he didn’t answer to that, your hands found his, unconsciously sending goosebumps up his arm: “I would never. Not voluntarily.”

“Thank you.” He muttered.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“Bilbo,” You began, retreating your hands as you thought over all that he had done for you. You might have been oblivious, but you weren’t stupid: “I do not wish to give you any unwanted impression of anything, but…” You trailed off, holding your breath as a bad kind of butterflies entered your stomach. “You have given me many things and kept me safe a numerous amount of times, and my gratitude exceeds my words, but…”

You didn’t know what to tell him. You didn’t know how. And there was no way to bring it lightly. Thus, with a hard swallow, you threw it out. “You do know that your actions look an awful lot like dwarven courting customs? I am pretty sure the company is convinced I am your spouse.”

His breath hitched at that. He came here to tell you, and now you were starting his conversation. What was he going to tell you? Honesty seemed so difficult now, but there was something in your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Some faint glance of recognition. And it gave him confidence: “They are.” He breathed, before quickly correcting himself. “Courting customs. Fili taught me.” “Oh,” “Yes,”

A second silence laid heavily, and neither of you really knew what to say to the other. So, per usual, Bilbo took the lead after a handful of hesitant seconds. “Um, but I’ve probably gotten the wrong hints from you so-”

“No,” You denied. “No, no, no. It’s simply that…This was intentional?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,”

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“But I understand if the feelings aren’t returned.” Bilbo added, already standing up from his seat. He was about to leave when your voice forced him to turn around: “Why me?” He couldn’t help but let a quiet scoff of confusion out. “I’m sorry?” “Of all the people out there, why me?”

Why you? He really couldn’t tell. He hadn’t met anyone in the Shire, and the way his life would have gone if it hadn’t been for Gandalf showing up, he might have never found anyone. Why you? He didn’t know. And he was honest to voice it: “I just know.”

“Oh,” You repeated, the sound coming out more as a breath than a pronounced word. “I am sorry. I wasn’t blind, though I doubt that will make you feel better.” You admitted. “I didn’t want to imagine things that weren’t there.” You didn’t see the way Bilbo’s face softened at that, or the way his heart fluttered when you finally spoke those words. “Thought I would save myself the heartbreak.” “You didn’t have to.” He sighed. Once more, he prepared to leave. And once more, he was interrupted by you.

“Bilbo?” “Hm?” He hummed as he turned around, a faint glimpse of hope in his heart. It only grew as you asked him your next question: “Once we get out of this, where will we go?” A bright smile came from his face as his breath hitched significantly. “Home, I suppose.”

You copied his smile, nodding your head at him.

“I’d like that.”

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist

Making me feel.”

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

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Word Count: 1,555

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Thorin leaves Erebor to visit his dear friend Bilbo, will new feeling shine through? What will happen?

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Note:

Listen to me I’ve never done anything like this before, I have written and sure I have posted one of two things and immediately abandoned them. If you want to give me constructive criticism or feedback please do I wanna get better at this kind of thing.

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Thorin had sent a letter to Bilbo not too long ago by raven, telling him of his departure from his kingdom and hopefully swift arrival. It had been a year since he had last seen his hobbit.

Thorin had found himself missing his hobbit. Even with the regular letters between them, now It had only been a week since he had gotten the last letter and Thorin had begun to feel a sort of ache in his chest the longer he went without contact from Bilbo.

Now the King Under the Mountain found himself hundreds of miles away from his Lonely Mountain, the one he had left in questionably capable hands, right back were it all began a year ago now, and getting himself lost once again on the roads and in the Shire. passing farms and burrows, even at one point finding himself on the road to brea. He had turned red when he realized, though he wont tell you that, and turned back hoping to find the burrow of his hobbit.

Thorin grumbled as he thought to himself and took another turn down a path he swears he’s seen hundred times before. ‘Now if I can just- have I already been here before?’ Thorin thought, sighing. ‘Mahal, am I even in the right place?’

When Thorin passed a deceptively familiar-looking farm, one he had to have passed twice now, he sighed and swung his pack off his shoulders to fish for a map. Maybe it can help him figure out where he was.

That’s when he heard a very familiar voice. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, as lost as a chicken with no head.” The voice was full of a teasing tone as it spoke.

Thorin whipped around and looked at the familiar small hobbit, his caramel-colored curls wild on his head, suggesting that he hadn’t done much more than wake up and throw clothes on. The hobbit seemed to be wrapped and almost gilded in gold in the light of the early sun, the old dwarf couldn’t fight himself from blushing at the hobbit.

His undershirt was a buttery yellow, a little warn but clearly loved, and his pants an emerald green that could put any gemstone that the king had seen to shame. The bottom of his pants were embroidered with flowers and other things hobbits seemed so enchanted by. The hobbit had no waistcoat, so his suspenders were visible. He stood not a few paces behind where Thorin stood. Thorin only just began to notice how long he had been staring at his hobbit.

Bilbo was smiling broadly, chuckling fondly at the sight of the bewildered and red faced king. Thorin didn’t wait long to rush forward and embrace his friend in a hug, which the hobbit gladly returned it with just as much enthusiasm. Thorin patted Bilbo’s shoulder affectionately and looked down at him when he pulled away from the hug.

Thorin smiled as he spoke. “Bilbo Baggins, and here I thought I’d have to stumble around here for a day until I found you.”

Bilbo laughed and grasped at the dwarf’s arms as he leaned a little closer before teasing. “Now what kind of hobbit would I be if I let one of my guests stumble his way around here like a newborn fawn?” Bilbo said as he moved to hook Thorin by the arm to lead him up a path toward his burrow. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find you something to eat! I’m sure you are starving.”

And that’s where Thorin found himself, sitting in an uncomfortably comfortable armchair in the living room of Bilbo’s burrow. He watched the small hobbit as he made tea, to quote, ‘hold him over’ till Bilbo was done cooking.

The warmth that wafted from the kitchen seemed to almost lull the king to sleep. The next time his eyes opened, Bilbo was handing him a warm mug of tea that smelled and tasted sweetly of elderberry and mint And a cloth that held a sweet blackberry tart.

Bilbo headed back to the kitchen to continue his task of making breakfast for the two of them. Thorin stood to follow after him, leaning against the door frame as Bilbo mixed something together in a bowl. He found himself observing the hobbit’s every movement, from the way his curls bounced as he worked to the concentration furrowing his brow.

‘He really is quite charming,’ Thorin mused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘The way he moves about his kitchen, so at ease, so… endearing. Why didn’t I see it before?’

Bilbo grinned at Thorin when he pulled himself a chair over. After a brief silence, Bilbo asked, “How are the renovations of your kingdom going?”

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes as thoughts of Erebor’s restoration filled his mind. They had found that the old techniques of his forefathers had been forgotten or abandoned for more useful skills during the time they had lost their home. But Thorin couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him at the thoughts of his people and how he and his Company had reclaimed his home. And how he feels that his hobbit was to thank for that.

Thorin let his voice sound as tired as he felt, as he spoke, “They are progressing well, but it seems many of the secrets of my people have seemingly been forgotten over the years.” He looked at the mug he held, now half full and tart long gone. He rolled the mug in his hands, it being a tad bit smaller than any other mug he was used to. It had flowers and soft things painted underneath its glaze.

“Still,” Thorin hummed and looked to Bilbo now. ‘Have his eyes always been so sweet?’ “It will be grand and restored to the best of our ability.”

Bilbo hummed and went back to cooking. He scrambled eggs in a hot pan. “Well, I wait patiently to see. You better keep me updated properly this time.” Bilbo said with a bit of a teasing tone and smile. Then he stopped what he was doing, looked at Thorin again as he set a plate down on the counter, and started plating food.

“I dare ask, you are staying a few days, are you not?” Bilbo asked. Thorin felt his breath catch in his throat. He had to think a little harder than he was used to, to speak.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded as he spoke. He found himself once again thinking of Bilbo, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity and care. ‘Why does my heart quicken every time he looks at me?’ Thorin wondered, a bit confused by his own feelings.

“Then, who is running the kingdom in your absence?” Bilbo inquired.

“Fíli,” Thorin replied with a fond smile. “He is capable and eager to prove himself. And I am not one to disappoint.”

Bilbo nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Ah, well, I am sure he is quite excited, and I am sure Lady Dís is not pleased at your sudden absence not too long after you have taken back your mountain.” Bilbo teased lightly as his eyes shined with mischief.

Thorin found himself chuckling and nodding softly. “No, she is not, but it will be a good experience for the lad to practice how it truly is to run a kingdom.”

“I see…” Bilbo hummed and pulled a loaf from the oven, setting it at the table to cool.

“How has the Shire been?” Thorin found himself asking as he helped Bilbo’s food find its way to the dining room table.

Bilbo’s face lit up happily as he smiled “Oh! Well, the Shire has been peaceful, as always. You know how things can be here, quiet!” He started digging through the cabinets for more plates. “And! I’m sure you saw on your way here but the fields are green with new crops, the harvest looks promising.” He said.

As Bilbo went to grab his cutlery as he spoke he gasped and looked to Thorin before almost yelling. “Oh! Do you remember what I told you happened a week ago well! It had happened again!!Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has tried to make off with my good silver again!”

Thorin watched Bilbo with growing affection and amusement as he animatedly recounted the events of the Shire. ‘He gets so heated over these things,’ Thorin thought, finding it endearing. ‘How could someone be so fiercely protective and yet so gentle?’

They continued to talk as Bilbo and Thorin prepared and set up breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and bacon filled the air. As they sat down to eat, Thorin felt a deep contentment.

As Bilbo went on about the Shire and what had been happening since his last letter to the king only a week ago, Thorin thought to himself, ‘This visit with Bilbo,’ he mused as Bilbo went on about how some children had trampled over his marigolds, ‘will be as lovely as I imagined.’

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There it is, please don’t get to mad at me if I have made a mistake or messed something up. Okay, please leave feedback! Let me know what I can do better next time!

[abitofboth]

owen carvour hcs because he’s in my brain always

he's very reservedly sentimental. the things in his life that mean a lot to him will always have a special place in his heart, but he'd never tell anyone that. his favourite childhood book, a lighter curt gifted him, old letters and photographs etc.

his favourite childhood book is the hobbit. when he was a kid he'd draw in the margins and go through and underline his favourite parts. his childhood pet was a fluffy cat called bilbo!!

left handed. constantly curses out his pens when he's writing and gets ink smudges all over his hand.

an only child, and was never really that close with his parents. his relationship with them grew strained once they found out he was gay.

would happily never interact with a dog for the rest of his life if he could help it. (too slobbery, loud, and boisterous for his liking.)

biiiiig smoker. his hands get twitchy if he hasn't had a cig in a while. he constantly spews some bs about the refined taste of tobacco.

similarly he's a big time wine snob. he gets offended if you suggest it tastes like vinegar and he'll try with all his might to convince you that the aromatics matter.

definitely has a sprinkling of road rage in him. in his opinion he is always in the right, and everyone else on the road needs their license taken from them.

teeny tiny tattoo on his hip of two intertwined mars symbols (♂)

'love' is a name he uses for pretty much everyone on accounts of him being british, but he's much more fond of using 'darling' and 'sweetheart' as pet names when it's just him and curt.

he LOVES the quiet moments between him and curt when they get to spend the night together. watching over him as he falls asleep and running his fingers through his hair are some of his favourite things to do.

he can be surprisingly bashful! talk sweet to him and he’ll blush like hell. pepper kisses over him and he’ll be squirming and giggling like there’s no tomorrow.

he's welsh but moved to london when he was a teenager. he taught himself to speak in an rp accent so he wouldn't be looked down on, and it just kind of stuck. not many people know that he's welsh, not necessarily because he doesn't tell anyone but no one’s ever asked because as far as everyone else is aware, he’s as english as you can get. when he's tired he can slip back into his old accent, and he uses the odd welsh word every now and then around people close to him (mostly curt.)

the first house he lived in in london got destroyed during the blitz, and luckily most of what few possessions he owned survived. he doesn't like to talk about his time during the war often.

after the fall, he gets tinnitus and his hearing is far from as good as it used to be. he lost his right eye, and the glass eye chimera got him has never quite been a perfect colour match. he has trouble with his knee, and has a decent amount of scarring over his body.

post fall there's a part of him that still loves curt, and desperately misses what used to be. it's mostly overpowered by the hatred within him, but the love rears its head out every now and again and catches him off guard.

he likes to cook, but he's kinda shit at it. he doesn't get much practice on accounts of being a spy, so whenever he does cook, something inevitably goes wrong.

once, he'd moved into a new flat and had curt round as his first guest and tried to cook him dinner. it ended up burning and there were full on flames in the frying pan. (curt still takes the piss out of him for this years later.)

he's a bit of a loner, but enjoys his own company for the most part. outside of curt he doesn't really have any close friends, and he isn't in contact with his family.

he has an angry streak in him. he’s easily riled up and the first emotion he goes to is barely concealed rage. he yells more often than he’d like to.

he hates using the term 'boyfriend' to describe curt. he thinks it makes him sound juvenile and he prefers 'partner' way more. plus, he can get away with introducing curt without giving away the fact that they’re together. (he also loves calling curt his 'best friend' in the most romantic sense possible.)

this! bitch! loves! musicals! the wizard of oz is a favourite of his, and he has a soft spot for disney’s cinderella. he has an extra fondness for the term ‘friend of dorothy’ because of this too.

tea over coffee always. two sugars and a splash of milk, not too weak but not too strong.

[daydreaming136]

Kili Durin x F!READER (Modern female)

Pairings: Kili x Reader slight Fili x Reader if you squint lol

Tags: modern reader female, isekai, waking up in the hobbit, death, romance, adventure, magic, dwarves, elves, everyone lives AU!, eventual smut,

Author notes: hi this is my first time writing for the hobbit hopefully someone will like it ❤️ please be kind in the comments and don’t be afraid to message me any questions ❤️

When I opened my eyes I saw a beautiful blue sky and the sun shining bright there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I sat up suddenly there was a pain in my stomach I winced and hissed. I lifted my shirt to look for any injury and didn’t find any. Then I realized the pain went away, I blinked a few times and thought back about my day and how I got here. The day went on as usual woke up spent some time to myself, which includes coffee and some gaming. Got ready for work, shower, brushed teeth, a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, a pair of shoes which were dirty from working in them. I drove to work, clocked in, put my Home Depot apron on, got stabbed by some crazed customer, clocked out, drove home…wait what? Let me back up a bit. I got stabbed by some crazed customer?? I lifted my shirt up again but didn’t see a stab mark. I huffed and got up. “Did I die? Is this heaven?” I chuckled. “Well I didn’t think I’d end up in heaven.” I looked around but didn’t see a person or angel in sight. I looked for any sign of life and saw smoke a few miles away. “I guess I’ll start there.” I walked towards where the smoke was residing. I walked into a small village. I mean literally small because the people were small and everything in the village was small. The people reminded me of hobbits with their pointy ears and big hairy feet. I walked to what looked like a market place. I thought I saw Bilbo baggins from the hobbit at one point but decided to kept walking. Til I recognized a familiar gray pointy hat. I sped up my pace and grabbed the persons sleeve. “Excuse me.” Once the man turned around I immediately recognized the man. “Yes my lady?” I felt my eyes go wide from shock. “Um I-I…” my words died from my mouth as I looked at his face longer. Gandalf raised his brow, “are you alright my dear?” I blinked realizing I’ve been staring at him. “You’re Gandalf the grey, right?” He looked at me up and down, staring at me questioning. “Indeed I am, and you are?” I realized I was making a fool out of myself I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Mr. Gandalf my name is Y/N and i know I’m going to sound crazy but I believe I ended up in either The Hobbit or Lord Of The Rings. Please believe me when I say that I’m not trying to do any harm to you or Bilbo or Frodo or Thorin.” He stared at me hard then he started to smile. “Well my dear why don’t we walk and talk.” I nodded and began to walk beside him. “So let’s start from the beginning.” I swallowed and started my tale of the hobbit careful enough to not give anything important away. “Hm. Well I do believe you my lady for I just talked to Bilbo not too long ago.” I smiled. “Thank goodness. Please let me join you and the company to take back the lonely mountain, with my knowledge I can help.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get you some supplies for the journey ahead.” We hit the market again getting me a bedroll and some feminine products I’ll need. Then he lead me to a familiar hole in the ground. “This is bilbos place isn’t it?” Gandalf nodded. “I need to do something for a bit wait for me here til I return.” I nodded. “Okay.” He began to walk away. “Oh and Y/N do stay out of trouble.” I chuckled. “You got it.”

Hours went by I ended up on the grass and took a nap. It was hard not to when the sun felt nice on my skin and the grass felt comfortable. I was startled awake by a shake to my shoulder. When I opened my eyes I was met with brown and blue eyes. “Miss why are you sleeping out here?” I blinked and sat up. “Oh sorry I must’ve dozed off waiting for Gandalf.”

“Gandalf? Are you the new member uncle was telling us?” I nodded. “Probably, Gandalf told me to wait here for him, are you heading to Mr. Baggins?” They nodded. “He should be here soon why don’t we head in while we wait?” I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“I’m Fili and this is my brother Kili.” I nodded to Kili noticing him not saying anything. The three of us walked toward Bilbos home. Fili rang the doorbell. And we waited for the hobbit to open the door. Bilbo opened the door. Bilbo whimpered when he saw the three of us. “Fili.” Fili introduced himself “Kili.” Kili finally spoke. “And Y/N.” I introduced myself. The two dwarves bowed their heads. “At your service.” I nodded towards Bilbo. “You must be Mr. Boggins.”

“Nope! You can’t come in. You’ve come to the wrong house.” Bilbo went to close the door but Kili stopped him. “What? Has it been canceled?” The door was pushed back open a bit. “No one told us.” Fili walking close behind his brother. “No, nothings been canceled.” Bilbo said confused about what the dwarves were implying. “That’s a relief.” Kili pushed the door open more and walked in Fili and I followed after. “Sorry Mr. Baggins.”I say give him a sympathetic look. I could tell he was already getting frustrated. “Careful with these. I just had ‘em sharpened.” Fili began to take off his weapons. I walked in looking around the hobbits home. “The movies really didn’t do this place justice.” I muttered under my breath. Kili walking around. “It’s nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?” Kili asked. Without Bilbo paying attention Kili began to take the mud off his shoes on Bilbos mother’s chest. I bit the inside of my cheek wanting to tell him not to do that because it is Bilbos mother’s chest. “What? No, it’s been in the family for years.” Bilbo finally realized what Kili was doing. “That’s my mother’s glory box! Can you please not do that?” Bilbo was angry. Then Dwalin walked in and grabbing Kili’s shoulder leading him farther in the house. “Fili, Kili. Come on. Give us a hand.” All of us walked into what looked like a dining room. “Let’s shove this in the hallway, otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.” Bilbo stammered. “Everyone? How many more are there?” I grabbed Fili’s weapons. “Here I’ll take these Mr. Baggins.”

“Th-thank you. Do you know what’s going on.” I smiled slyly and put Fili’s weapons somewhere out of the way. Suddenly the doorbell rang again. Bilbo feeling very frustrated walked towards the door. “Oh, no. No. No. There’s nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There’s far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clot-heads idea of a joke…ha! Ha! I can only say it is in poor taste.” He opened the door I could hear the dwarves falling on the floor in the entrance of the hobbits home. I followed after Bilbo. Seeing the dwarves on the floor I giggled watching them grunt and groan. “Ah. There you are my lady I thought I told you to stay put.” I smiled. “Sorry I ran into Fili and Kili they said you would be here soon and well here you are.” Bilbo looked at Gandalf. “Gandalf.”

Soon everyone was in the dining room they were passing ales and food. Having a grand old time, I ate a bit myself. I grabbed a jug of ale and took a few gulps. I giggled some more seeing poor Bilbo tell the dwarves to put his food back from his pantry. Food was going left and right the dwarves drinking and eating. “Ale! Going one, two, three!” They were all chugging their drinks. A few letting out some burps. I laughed amongst them. Once they all finished eating they began to clean up I joined in obviously. “‘Scuse me but where do I put my plate?” Ori asked Bilbo. Fili walked up grabbing the plate from him. “Here you go, ori. Give it to me.” He tossed it to Kili who caught it without a problem and tossing it to Bifur. They were tossing all the dishes to get cleaned. I heard the dwarves clatter the silverware. “And can—can you not do that? You’ll blunt them.”

“Ooh, do you hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” They began to bang their shoes amongst the floor, making a beat. “ Blunt the knives, bend the forks.” Kili began to sing. “Smash the bottles and burn the corks.” Fili followed. “Chip the glasses and crack the plates.”

“That’s what Bilbo baggins hates!” They all sang together. I danced a bit to their song. “Cut the cloth tread on the fat. Leave the bones on the bedroom mat. Pour the milk on the pantry floor. Smash the wine on every door. Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl. Pound them up with a thumping pole. When you’re finished, if they are whole. Send them down the hall to roll. That’s what Bilbo baggins hates!” They all laughed after the song was finished. Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door everyone quieted down. I looked at Gandalf. “He is here.” Bilbo and Gandalf walked to the door, I followed them. Gandalf opened the door for Thorin. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.” Gandalf closed the door after Thorin walked in. “There is a mark. I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins. Y/N. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield.” I bowed my head a bit to be polite. “So..this is the hobbit and Gandalfs assistant. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin circled Bilbo. “Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know.” I crinkled a bit. “But I fail to see why that’s relevant.”

“I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The dwarves laughed at Thorins comment. I felt a little sympathy for Bilbo. The dwarves all walked to the dining room it was just Bilbo, Gandalf, and I. “Your assistant aye.” I crossed my arms under my chest. Gandalf smiled. “Well I couldn’t just tell them you’re from another world now could I.” I nodded. “Alright, I guess it could work for now.”

I sat next to Fili and Kili at the dining table. “What need from the meeting in Ered Luin?” Balin asked Thorin. “Did they all come?”

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

“And what did the dwarves of the iron hills say? Is Dain with us?” Dwalin asked. “They will not come.” Thorin answered.

“They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo asked standing behind Gandalf. “Y/N, help my dear fellow Bilbo, let us have a little more light.” I nodded helping Bilbo bring some candles out. “Far to the east…over ranges and rivers… beyond woodlands and wastelands… lies a single, solitary peak.”

“The lonely mountain.”

“Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!” Glóin said. “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold. When the birds of yore return to erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“What beast?” Bilbo asked curiously. “That would be a reference to Smaug the terrible. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals.” Bofur described Smaug. “Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Suddenly Oir stood up. “I’m not afraid. I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!”

“Good lad, Ori!” Nori cheered on the dwarf. “Sit down.” Dori told him. “The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us..but we number in just 16. And not 16 of the best…nor brightest.” That gave a bit of commotion. “We may be few in number… but we’re fighters. All of us! To the last dwarf.” Fili cheered on. “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company along with his assistant. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” I bit back a laugh. “Oh, well, no. I-I-I wouldn’t say—,”

“How many, then?” Dori asked. “What?”

“How many dragons have you killed?” All the dwarves looked at Gandalf as he choked on his smoke. “Go on. Give us a number.” I watched as they fought amongst themselves. I pushed myself against the wall. “Uh, excuse me. Please.” Bilbo tried to talk to the dwarves when Thorin spoke up. “No more!” They all went silent. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look west to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast of our wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back erebor?!” They all cheer til Balin cuts in. “You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf brought out a key showing it to the dwarves. “How came you by this?” Thorin asked. “It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now.” Gandalf handed Thorin the key. “If there is a key…there must be a door.” Fili thought out loud. Gandalf showed them the writing on the map. “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in.” Kili spoke happily. “Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in middle earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believer that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori concluded. “Hmm. And a good one too.” All eyes were on Bilbo. “An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” Glóin asked. Bilbo looked around realizing that he asked him. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert! Hey!”

“Me? No. No, no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin replied.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin looked at bilbo and I. I felt a little offended. “C’mon Dwalin they’ll manage just fine.” Bilbo agreed what the dwarf said while I bit my tongue holding back insults. The dwarves talked amongst themselves. Then Gandalf made the house grow dark. Gandalf stood as tall as he could in the small hobbits house and in a loud and scary voice, “Enough! If I say Bilbo baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. And you will talk to my assistant with more respect. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him. My assistant here also has some insight about our quest which will be useful in taking back the lonely mountain. Smaug will not see us coming. You asked me to find the 14th member of this company, and I have found 2. There’s a lot more to them than appearances suggest. And they both got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including themselves.” I could tell he was mainly talking to Bilbo. “You must trust me on this.” Gandalf finished. Thorin seemed to take Gandalfs words seriously. “Very well. We will do it your way.” Bilbo doesn’t seem convinced though. “No.no.”

“Give them the contract.” Thorin looked at Balin. Balin took out a folded paper and handed it to Bilbo. “It’s just the usual. Summary of out of pocket expenses…time required, remuneration…funeral arrangements, so forth.” Bilbo seemed stunned by the words ‘funeral arrangements.’

“Funeral arrangements?” I placed my hand on bilbos shoulder, “it’ll be alright.” He opened the folded contract. Bilbo walked off to read the contract. Thorin leaned close to Gandalf talking about something important no doubt. “Terms: cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding 1/14th of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Present company shall not be liable for any injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to lacerations…evisceration…incineration?” I giggled a bit at bilbos reaction. “Oh, aye. He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bilbo seemed to pause at that. All the dwarves took notice, “are you all right, laddie?” Balin asked the small hobbit. Bilbo put his hands on his knees,” yeah.” Bilbo seemed to try to process this, taking a few deep breaths. “Feel a bit faint.” I felt a bit sympathetic for poor Bilbo besides knowing he’ll be alright. “Bilbo?” I asked concerned for the hobbit, but it seems another dwarf had other intentions. “Think furnace with wings.” Bofur got up from his seat. I looked at the dwarf with eyes to plead to him to stop. “Air. I-I-I need air.” Bilbo looked like he was going to get sick. “Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” I bit my lip watching the scene play out. Bilbo tried his best to keep calm and to not faint, but he failed. “Nope.” And he went down. I closed my eyes and sighed, “now you’ve done it. Good going Bofur.” I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, very helpful, Bofur.” Gandalf sarcastically said. I grabbed the contract picked up a quill and signed my name, handing it to Balin. “There you go.” Balin looked at the signature. “Welcome to the company, my lady.” I bowed my head and he did the same. The company helped poor Bilbo up and onto his comfy armchair. He was well awake and holding a cup of tea. “I’ll be all right. Just let me sit quietly for a moment.” Gandalf smoking his pipe seemed to get angry at the small hobbit. “You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me, when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?” Remembering this moment I decided to leave Gandalf and Bilbo to their conversation joining the dwarves in the other room. Fili and Kili walked up to me,” is Mr. Boggins all right?” I nodded. “Yes but he and Gandalf are having a serious conversation so I’d wait if you want to talk to him.” Kili nodded. “Do you think he’ll come?”

“No way brother, Mr. Boggins is way too comfortable here.” Fili responded. “I think he’ll come.” I smiled a little. “Why did you not faint, don’t dragons scare you?” Kili asked, I chuckled a bit, “of course they do but I also think dragons are cool. Seeing one up close sure would be a story to tell one day, that’s if I make it.” I know the story of them but what of me technically I died who knows what’ll happen to me here. “Cool? Dragons are not cool, remember what Bofur said. Furnace with wings.” Fili reminded me, I laughed. “Yes, yes. I remember I just meant they’re majestic, and also terrifying.” I have to remind myself that ‘cool’ isn’t a normal slang term in this world. In that moment Bilbo was walking past us going to what I believe is his bedroom. Kili and Fili suddenly left me to join the other dwarves in the living room. I began to hear humming and singing from the living room, remembering Thorin singing the misty mountain. I sat outside of the room listening to the beautiful sound but also hearing the mournful sound in Thorins voice. I vowed to myself I’ll make sure the durin line will survive once we arrived at the lonely mountain. Leaving my place in the hobbits home I walked outside took a place near the entrance of the hobbits home and fell asleep.

[shy-blue-blossom]

Dragonborn

Thorin

Thorin Oakenshield hated dragons.

All dwarves knew this. Bilbo Baggins knew this early on once he joined the company. There was nothing or no one that would change his mind on them. Dragons only cared about the hoard of treasure they collected or took from others.

It was a sunny day as the company travelled on. Throin was in front with Dwalin and Balin. Kili and Fili were in the back as they joked about. Bofur was about to tell them to stop, but Fili stopped and turned to look to the side.

"What's up with you?" Kili asked as he looked around.

"I thought I saw something," Fili answered as they caught up to the group.

However, before Kili could make a joke, he saw something in the tree line. A warg jumped the company as he went to point it out. Another two wargs came from the sides. Orcs were not far behind them. The company were surprised at how many orcs had caught them off guard. Some of them were cornered. Ori was about to get caught in the back when someone or something jumped on the orc and growled at it.

This got the attention of the dwarves and other orcs. The orcs advanced on the interrupter while the dwarves helped with the stragglers. It did not take long for the orcs to be defeated if they did not retreat.

Ori's rescuers stood and watched the orcs retreat before they turned to the dwarves. It was only a little girl. They noticed her eyes were gold with slits. She had scales that retraced and disappeared. She smiled at them as they looked at her before she turned and began to walk back into the woods.

"Excuse me, miss?" Balin called to her. The little girl turned to him but did not attempt to get closer to them. "Why did you help up?" Balin asked.

"I noticed their presence following you. The lookouts at the back were messing around. Gandeld talked about you. I thought I would help," She answered. Before she could continue her way into the woods, she was stopped again.

"How do you know Gandelf?" It was Bofur who had asked this.

"He teaches me different things. He taught me how to talk," The little girl faced them as she spoke.

"What are you?" Thorin asked after a moment of silence.

"A creature you do not like, so I will leave before I cause you any discomfort,"

"You do not look like anything I dislike," Thorin quickly said.

"I'm a dragonborn. I am one of the few left," The little girl said as she watched Thorin for his reaction.

"I did not know dragons could shift into humans," Balin said as he noticed Thorin tense. The girl shook her head.

"I am dragonborn, not a dragon. Dragonborn can only grow claws or scales to protect themselves. It is why the dragons hunted us," This caught all their attention.

"Who looks after you when Gandalf is travelling?" Bilbo asked, worried as he had not heard anyone calling a name.

"I look after myself," She put it simply.

"What's your name?" Thorin once again spoke after silence.

"Y/n,"

"Why don't you join us? We may come across other dragonborn you can join. If we don't you can stay with us." This shocked the members of the company.

Y/n agreed to join them. Fili and Kili were the first she warmed up to. The rest of the company warmed up to her and were surprised when she chose to sleep next to Thorin each night. They continued to the lonely mountain and had fun teaching y/n along the way.

She showed them the different things she could do as a dragonbron. Fili and Kili tried to use this information for pranks on the others. Y/n did not mind but would not help them prank Thorin. At first, they thought she was scared of him but that quickly was proven wrong when she sat on his lap without asking him. They watched Thorin's and y/n's interactions as they got closer and closer to the lonely mountain.

When they reached the mountain, Thorin decided to stay together instead of splitting up. This most likely saved all three of them. He realised what he needed to do once he had defeated Azog. Fili smiled at his uncle when he was okay with the idea he had.

Y/n was talking with Gandalf and Bilbo when he found them. He stopped when he caught their conversation.

"You found other dragonborns?" Gandalf nodded at this question. "And you can take me to them if I want to go?" Thorin's heart almost stopped at this.

"I can take you as soon as you want to go," Gandalf told y/n.

"What if I want to stay with Thorin, Fili and Kili, Bofur, Bomber and Mister Dwalin and Balin," Gandalf cut her off.

"I will not take you away if you do not want to go," Y/n smiled at Gandalf.

"I would love to have you here y/n," Thorin decided to let speck up.

He had a big smile on his face when she turned to him. She wore a matching smile as she took off to him. He caught her in a hug when she jumped at him. They agreed that Thorin would be her father. The company members were happy that she would be staying with them.

The one thing that Thorin thought was never going to happen did.

He has a dragonborn daughter.

He could not be prouder.

The end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[amloveabledeathmo]

Masterpost of my fics and ideas.

All links for finished stories are to AO3.

Also if anyone wants to basically rewrite or write a fic based on mine please do and as long as they have a happy ending please send me a link.

My Star Wars Anakin/Padme fake dating happy ending fic. Titled Jedi Can't.

My partner and I's Dragon Age Inquisition fic about Cullen being a thirst trap for Thedas basically. Titled Commander Fancy Pecs.

A Lord of the Rings Legolas as a child with his parents. Titled Bedtime Storytime for Little Legolas.

A Lord of the Rings, Gimli/Legolas fic. Titled Secret.

The Hobbit Fili/OC dwarf Titled Once Upon a Battlefield.

The Hobbit Bilbo/Thorin miscommunication fic Titled Khuzdul (Not So) Fluent.

The Hobbit Balin/Dori with background Thorin/Bilbo/Dwalin. Balin confesses to Dori. Titled A Gentle Nudge.

The Hobbit gen fic that is just fun about Dwarrow messing with Elves and Elves actually trying to be a good host. Titled Rivendell and a Joke.

The Hobbit fic that has both Bilbo/Thorin and Kili/Tauriel but isn't really focused on the relationships, just a fun idea where mithril comes from. Titled Not So Pointless.

The Hobbit Bilbo/Thorin short fic Titled Missing Touch.

The Hobbit basically a gen fic Titled Touch.

One of my longer The Hobbit fics with Thorin/Bilbo and an accidental proposal. Titled Our Home.

The Hobbit, probably my most popular fic. Thorin/Bilbo Time travel fix it fic technically everyone dies but Bilbo gets sent back to fix it. Titled A Dream of Something More. There is an epilogue to this one that is posted separately A Dream or Something More Epilogue.

The Hobbit Thorin/Tauriel fic that was written as a gift. Little bit of a sex scene. Titled Mel Asar.

The Hobbit pre Thorin/Tauriel realtionship fic also written as a gift, had an idea about them meeting for the first time. Titled First Meetings.

The only Harry Potter fic I got written before the JK issues really came to light. It's Draco/Harry. Titled Firewhiskey Secrets.

--WIPS--

My oldest wip written for Beauty and the Beast, no it is actually not abandoned, I will update someday! Titled A True Beast?.

The Hobbit Thorin/Bilbo fic about a very anxious Bilbo who loves architecture. Also not abandoned, someday my brain will work again!Titled Anxiety.

I would absolutely love nearly any kind of comment from emojis to paragraphs, just nothing rude please.

Ideas for more stories. These links are all on Tumblr

The Hobbit/The Lord of The Rings Collection

Sherlock Collection

[beatx-mavie-archangelx]

Unpopular? Problematic? Opinion

I'm kinda new in Arda so maybe it's just me? It's something I haven't found out yet in the fandom? I'm honestly not sure because I'm the only one having a problem (not really a problem, just a pet peeve, I think?) with it, but...

(forgive my English, it's past midnight here and I'm eepy)

what is it that the fandom has with genderbending(or revealing they were the opposite gender all along) specific characters? and I mean Bilbo Baggins and dwarves specifically. I haven't seen a genderbent elf or human yet, but again I may be wrong.

It feels really weird because I've mostly (almost always) seen it happen when one of those characters was to be shipped with someone(of the same gender). And also I've actually only seen it with Bilbo, Ori, and Narvi (but, once more, I'm new so this might be inaccurate). I genuinely don't understand why? It doesn't bring anything to the plot except perhaps implying that dwarves can't tell dwarrow and dwarrowdams apart which actually only applies to literally all the other races. It feels so wrong to cancel mlm relationships by changing a character's canon gender.

I also don't like using non-canon pronouns(/gender) for characters in general because it feels like I'm misgendering them but that's a personal opinion.

But perhaps I'm just imagining things. So I'm genuinely asking if I've missed something or if it's just me not really understanding fanfictions/fandoms. Especially since I've only seen this happen with those specific characters, maybe someone can tell me whether it's true or not.

Idk if this makes sense, hopefully I wasn't disrespectful and didn't offend anyone.

Pls be nice I'm just a confused newcomer

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Round 2, Poll 8

Poll at the bottom of the post.

Journey to You: (Post-BOTFA Adventures)

“Milk, Mr. Oakenshield?”

“I’m sorry?” He questioned as the same hobbit from earlier poked his head in.

“Would you like milk in your tea?”

Thorin shook his head. “No, just some honey will be fine if you have it.”

The hobbit nodded before disappearing again. Leaving Thorin to his thoughts in what he would refer to as not-Bilbo’s sitting room. When he emerged once more, he was carrying a tray of tea, followed by a dam carrying a tray of sandwiches and cakes.

“We’re so glad we’ve gotten a chance to meet you, Mr. Oakenshield.” She told him with a bright smile. “Bilbo spoke of you so often.”

Thorin tried not to flush at the idea of what Bilbo might have said as he thanked her and took his tea. He tried not to make a face after all the trouble they went to, but this was certainly not the flavor of tea they had back in Erebor. It was bland and…earthy. He carefully placed the cup back down on the tray, and folded his hands, desperate to ask the one question he’s wanted to know since he got here.

“You said Bilbo left months ago and he has no intention of coming back?”

The male hobbit shook his head. “No, he’s had…difficulties adjusting back to Shire life.”

“Difficulties?” Thorin repeated, a furrow in his brows.

“He was becoming unsociable.” The dam explained. “It was quite entertaining to watch him tell Lobelia Sackville-Baggins off, but you could just tell he wasn’t happy anymore.”

The Raven Prince: (Swan Princess AU)

Bilbo? Bilbo, wake up.

Bilbo groaned, adamantly refusing to open his eyes. He had just had the most wonderful dream. Thorin had been a raven and only once they reached Ravenhill did he reveal himself. It was a little odd, but the important thing was Thorin had been alive. He didn’t want to go back to a reality without him. Even if he were a raven.

A hand ran through his curls, and Bilbo instinctively turned into the warm palm.

“Amrâlimê (my love), wake up.” 

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. He could swear that sounded just like…Slowly, he blinked his eyes open only to be greeted with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Thorin!” He gasped. “Is it really you?”

The vision smiled brightly as he nodded.

“Yes, it’s me.”

Bilbo sat up suddenly, throwing his arms around Thorin’s neck and hugging him close. He hardly could believe it. Yet, here he was warm flesh beneath Bilbo’s hands, and his hair smelling as Thorin always did. Bilbo certainly had an active imagination, but even he wouldn’t be able to put together such a cohesive vision.

“Oh, Thorin!” Bilbo sobbed into his shoulder. “I thought I had lost you.”

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s back, pulling him in even tighter.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. The mere moment I was able to get away, I knew I had to find you…”

“Get away?” Bilbo asked aghast as he pulled away. “What do you mean? Get away from what?”

Thorin’s expression darkened somewhat. “Smaug.” He spat. 

[camille-lachenille]

There is a thing that I noticed reading The Lord of the Rings and other works by Tolkien. And that thing is how diverse and beautiful love is, and how much it speaks to me.

True Love at first sight exists in Tolkien’s universe, and from it came some of the grandest deeds; think Beren and Lúthien braving Morgoth and then Mandos to be together, think Arwen renouncing immortality and Aragorn reclaiming his throne in order to marry her. But these grand tales of love at first sight are that; tales. It’s not for normal people.

There is also another aspect of romantic love that is present, one slower to take root and much more domestic. It is Sam missing Rosie when he is halfway trough the world and barely daring to ask her out even after facing Mordor. It is the blooming love between Éowyn and Faramir, a relationship based on shared grief, mutual understanding, respect and comfort sought in each other.

Sometimes it ends badly, like Nerdanel leaving Fëanor despite centuries of marriage and having had seven sons together because they don’t get along anymore. It’s Erendis and Aldarion falling apart because they are too different to work as a couple. It’s Elrond mourning for his wife who had to sail West in order to heal her broken soul and body. But it’s much more realistic than the grand tales, this is something relatable for a human heart and mind.

And what I like above everything else is how these romantic relationships, no matter how epic the love is, are never sexualised. How they are not even the more important kind of relationships and love in Tolkien’s universe. For someone Ace and arospec as well, seeing familial relationships and platonic love having such a major role in the story makes my heart soar in joy because I can relate.

I can relate to Sam, brave little Sam who walked to Mordor and back out of love and loyalty for Frodo despite missing his home a little more each day. And my heart warms each time I read about Merry, Pippin and Sam plotting to follow Frodo and hammering in his head that they are in this together until the end, and only the direst circumstances managed to separate them.

I laughed at the bantering and teasing between Gimli and Legolas, who managed to bridge the gap of centuries of dislike between their folks, and I admire their relationship no matter if one interpret it as platonic or romantic.

I can relate to the brotherly love between Boromir and Faramir because I too would do anything to spare pain to my sister. I love the friendship between Maedhros and Fingon for I am so close to my cousins too, and I would do about anything for my family no matter the circumstances just like the line of Finwë followed Fëanor in the first place (the outcome was… not good but that’s not the point).

I can relate, to some extent, to Elrond’s grief at Arwen’s Choice, because sometimes, loving someone means accepting to let them go no matter how we feel.

I cried at the end of the Hobbit, when Fíli and Kíli died defending their uncle, because this unwavering loyalty and love for family is something I can understand better than giving up everything for a romantic partner.

I cried reading the Tale of Beren and Lúthien, but I cried more when Sam sails West after Rosie dies and is reunited with Frodo, when Merry and Pippin are buried with the old kings of Gondor once Aragorn dies too, or when Legolas builds a boat and sails to the Undying Lands with Gimli because he can’t bear to be parted from his dearest friend. I cried when Bilbo returns to the Shire alone after the quest for Erebor, having lost dear friends, and wishing to see the Lonely Mountain again decades later. I cried when Maglor, last of his brothers, wanders endlessly on the shores in eternal sorrow.

But I also smiled a lot; be it when Faramir kisses Éowyn, or when the Three Hunters are welcomed to the ruins of Isengard by Merry and Pippin whole and safe and they share a moment of carefree joy in the midst of darkness. I laughed at the foolishness of a Took and his Brandybuck cousin, I smiled fondly when Sam mutters to himself when he worries for Frodo. I grinned when Gandalf returns after his fight against the Balrog and takes time to catch up with his friends despite the war raging around them. I laughed when Gimli and Legolas plan a vacation and sightseeing after a gruesome battle, and then when they comment on how to redecorate Minas Tirith. These are small moments that make the friendship between the characters authentic and relatable, and I am certainly forgetting so much more passages that made me smile or cry along the characters.

There is also the love one has for a place, this powerful motivation that makes Frodo leave the Shire in the first place to protect it against the Ring. Faramir’s love for his country that makes war bearable for him, because despite how much he hates violence and weapons he won’t let his beloved home be destroyed without fighting with his life. The love Sam has for his garden and the green hills of the Shire that gives him hope until the very end when all seems lost. This is also a kind of love I understand.

Love in Tolkien’s universe is what makes the events go as they go, and more precisely platonic and familial love. And I rejoice in seeing how friendship old and new, how bonds forged in shared danger or in peaceful days, saved the world at the end of the day. I won’t say I don’t like love stories, because that’s not true, but I love to see platonic relationships so strong being so important in The Lord of the Rings and other Tolkien’s works. Romantic relationships are not a superior form of relationship. True, unwavering love is not always romantic, and I love how Tolkien managed to capture this in his writing.

[scary-grace]

omg I want to hear more about the barduil miss congeniality AU I love that movie so much I am soooo excited by this as a concept 😍

This one grew out of a conversation with a friend back in my "make it barduil but also make it lesbian" phase (mid-2022 or so) and it features:

Bard Bowman, 28, FBI agent (ersatz Miss New Hampshire). Bard’s the youngest agent in the bureau, and while she’s known for being a little rough around the edges, she’s also great at her job. She’s lowkey out as bisexual, and has had a girlfriend or two since the start of her career. Most of them don’t stick around, though. Nobody quite gets it about her job. Nobody except her workplace nemesis and former flame….

Thranduil Oropherion, 29, FBI agent, who’s been working there a whole year longer than Bard and never lets Bard forget it. She’s also excellent at her job, and she’s better at playing the public relations game than Bard is, which means she usually runs the operations instead of running after the criminals. She’s so deep in the closet that everybody at work thinks she’s straight – except Bard, who knows better.

Gandalf, older than dirt, pageant coach. Once the mission is approved, Thranduil hires him to turn Bard from FBI agent to beauty queen.

Mairon, older than dirt but doesn’t look it, in charge of the Miss United States pageant. Former winner and veryyyyy protective of her "scholarship competition".

Thorin, 28, Miss Montana. Former bodybuilder/mixed martial artist. Nobody really knows what she’s doing there, but her older sister was Miss Montana 5 years ago, so it runs in the family. Bard’s roommate from undergrad. They made out one time at a party, but they had so little chemistry that they both came out of it wondering if they were really bi.

Bilbo, 23, Miss Washington. Getting her master’s degree in history at the University of Washington. Her hobbies include gardening, knitting, and – sharpshooting? Thorin has a giant crush on her and is terrified that she likes Bard better.

Smaug, ???, somebody who really, really, really has it out for Miss United States.

I haven't made it very far with this one, but I'd like to! Hopefully I'll rewatch the movie soon and the bug will bite again.

[mortaltempless]

it's more the being unknown

~1.4k, Rated G, Galadriel/Sauron

Even at the end of the world, Frodo remains curious as to what drives Galadriel.

The hobbit, for all his long millenia of bravery and kindness, for all his suffering, looked terrified, and he knew it. An awful humiliation on this final day.

"Do not fear, young Frodo," Galadriel offered. "It will be painless. The One would not stand for anything else."

That morning, they had all seen Galadriel's uncle stalk proudly and with purpose out of the Halls of Mandos, preparing his chariot. All knew what that meant.

Frodo offered a weak smile to Galadriel.

"What will come after, my lady?" he whispered. He knew his duty. He wore armour, for the first time in the many Ages of his life. He would defend Middle Earth, and give thanks to Erú as the world broke apart. But that did not stop the fear.

Still, Galadriel smiled softly and sweetly -- a rare gift. 

"I'm not sure, my friend," she said. "But it will be beautiful." 

Frodo nodded, not much reassured. Galadriel checked over his armour, her own long-since fitted perfectly to her form.

"Will you stay with me?" he asked softly, somewhat ashamed of the quake in his voice. Galadriel looked down and away, and for a moment the hobbit thought she would not answer.

"Frodo, there is --" she looked at him, blue eyes shining. "It is the end of the world. And my part in this story is over."

A pause as she looked down again, at the shining, iridescent silver of her breastplate, the gold star gleaming like a fire in the centre. 

"There will be no tomorrow, old friend. So there is only one way I wish to spend my last hours." her voice was a delicate whisper. 

Ever since he arrived on the shores of Valinor, he had grown close to Galadriel. One of the few familiar faces in this strange land. The other elves stared at him, and found him to be a curious oddity. Only those who knew him from Middle Earth continued to treat him with respect and kindness, rather than as an amusing child who just learned to toddle. Even so, he could not miss the rumours that followed the once-Lady of Lothlórien. Most of them, he could dismiss out of hand. Even after all his long years, he remembered the Sackville-Bagginses well enough to recognise petty jealousies and family rivalries when he saw them. 

But there were other rumours, ones that stuck in his craw. Ones that made his mind itch with the memory of Galadriel's woods, and the Ring, louder than it had ever been, whispering incessantly to him -- soclosesoclosesoclose -- praise Erú that Galadriel had the wisdom to reject it. But no, Frodo dismissed the thought, there was no way that, after everything, Galadriel would --

"Mithrandir will look after you and Bilbo," she said. "You will not be alone for even a moment." 

Frodo did not reply. He just blinked slowly at the elf. He was not sure if she wanted his permission, or if she was telling him instead.

He put it out of his mind for hours, watching the events of that final eternal day unfold around him. Chaos and waiting. Waiting and chaos. These alternating moods threatened to undo him. He stood by Galadriel, Gandalf and Bilbo, the four of them stuck carefully together as it all unfolded, with the elf and wizard guiding the halflings across bloody battlefields, carefully keeping them away from the worst of the battles. Indeed, Frodo's own blade remained clean. 

He supposed he should be pleased about that.

But that all changed once he saw It. That was the only thing that came to mind: It. The armour was unmistakable, and for the first time in countless years, Frodo's shoulder burned. An ancient wound awakened by its ultimate cause. It made a sick sort of sense that Sauron would piece himself together enough to witness his master's final attempt at dominance. 

Gandalf's hand was on his shoulder, his voice comforting and low. 

"He will not come near you, old friend," he murmured. Frodo sobbed, nodded, but could not help the way he curled into the wizard in fear.

"I don't --" his voice trembled. "I don't want to die like this." 

Frodo was brave. His strength and kindness was famed across the world, far beyond Middle Earth. The gentle halfling who toppled a god without ever taking a life. But he felt as though tears and terror were all he had left.

"And you won't," This voice was soft as well, but with an almost incomprehensible depth of kindness and feeling to it. Galadriel's soft hair brushed his arm as she laid a kiss on his forehead. "He won't ever touch you, old friend." 

With a squeeze of his hand and a meaningful look to Gandalf, she was gone.

"What is she doing?" Bilbo asked, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his nephew's shoulder. Gandalf didn't reply, but his sigh contained an age of sorrow. 

She walked slowly, calmly towards the towering figure, discarding weapons as she went.

Her quiver.

Her bow and arrow.

Her sword.

And finally, a dagger. 

Sauron, for his part, possessed a stillness that Frodo would never have guessed. Sword in one hand, mace in the other. He gave up neither weapon. 

The hobbit's heart was in his mouth, certain that Galadriel had miscalculated, certain that at any moment, Sauron would swipe his mace at her, smashing her bones into pieces. But he did no such thing.

Instead, by some magic, Frodo heard every word, even at this distance.

"I always hated that armour," Galadriel said. The figure tilted its awful head at her.

"Too frightening?" His voice was muffled, but sounded little like the wraith that had haunted the hobbit's nightmares for millennia. 

"Too much like a little boy's. Far too cumbersome, even for you," Galadriel replied. There was something in her voice that Frodo could not recognise. Still, the Dark Lord's next act threw any thought of Galadriel from his mind as his hands reached up, and unlatched his helmet. 

It came to the ground with a loud clang.

Frodo couldn't breathe. 

Sauron looked…disarmingly normal. He remembered Strider…Aragorn…whatever, and his ranger friends…Sauron would not look out of place among them. Scraggly haired and scruffy, and far from the beast he imagined lurked beneath the helm. And it is only then that he identifies the note beneath Galadriel's speech, even at this dire moment: amusement. 

"Gandalf," Frodo whispered, almost against his will. "What is she doing?" 

The wizard had not taken his eyes off the pair, a wariness to his gaze even now at the end of everything. 

"Hmm?" he asked, as though he had not heard every word Frodo uttered.

"I don't think she's in much danger, my lad," said Bilbo, keen eyes alight with curiosity. Frodo shook his head. 

"She needs --" he did not know how to finish the sentence, felt rooted to the spot, even as his breath caught when Sauron's mace crashed to the ground beside him. 

"I believe the Lady will do quite fine without our aide, my boy," said Gandalf, still fixed on the pair. 

Frodo strained to hear them now, no doubt a result of Galadriel's magic fading, or perhaps an alteration of the spell. The rumours burst into his mind again -- perhaps it was for privacy.

"Of course I did not visit --" 

"Thousands of years in the dark, Galadriel --"

"And whose fault --"

Now he could believe them. Then, they stood in silence for a long moment, and when Galadriel spoke again, it was crystal clear to Frodo's ear, even as he could see his uncle surreptitiously straining forwards to hear as Gandalf kept a tight grip on the more troublesome halfling. 

"If this is the end, do we really want to spend it on another battlefield?" Her voice was soft, and achingly sad. 

"It would be fitting," Sauron replied, just as clearly to Frodo's ear. "But yes, I rather agree. This is not how we should spend the last of our time."

By the end of the statement, his voice was quiet and hoarse. Gandalf's eyes shut, and the wizard let out a sigh that contained centuries of tension. 

Sauron's sword also fell to the ground as he stared at Galadriel, something impossible in his eyes that Frodo simply refused to name. 

The last the hobbit saw of Galadriel was this: walking, off the last battlefield, in perfect step with the Dark Lord of Mordor, their weapons discarded.

[skeleton-on-wheels0]

Hello, I decided to do this oneshot with Thorin... It's an xReader, although more subtle. I finished this at 00:04 AM, so it's not my best work by any standards. Note that my first language isn't English and please point out any mistakes you find. Hope you enjoy!

< ------------------- >

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice.

He watched her body startle imediately he started speaking and relax once more when she turned around and looked at him from the balcony.

"Thorin!" she breathed out in relief. "Yes, I'm fine. What are you doing here? It's quite late." she asked, looking at him and then at the sky.

It was a lovely summer night. Stars were dancing in the night sky like lots of fireflies, but the moon outshined them all in her round paleness. He didn't admire the sky, though.

He admired her, she who came to offer everything hoping it would help a newly reclaimed kingdom at least a little. In the night sky, he couldn't help but notice the soft glow of white light around her, almost as mithril. But she was far more precious to him.

When he realised he was still silent, he managed to speak without getting his tongue tangled from the beauty he was witnessing.

"I came here to talk with you." he said, almost a whisper.

"Oh? Balin didn't announce me of any audiences with the king. Did I miss something?" she asked, brows furrowing, now turned fully to face him.

"This is not... a matter that would require Balin. It's a far more private matter." he explained, looking to the plants she acquired while residing in Erebor.

"Such as..." she trailed off, waiting for him to finish.

"My undying love for you." he muttered, low enough for her to not be able to distinguish what he said.

"Come again? I didn't get that, Thorin."

He sighed. This was not going to be easy.

"Matters of the heart." he said, a little louder than before.

In all the ways he and Bilbo planned for this to go he didn't even think to consider that he would be so nervous.

"Ahh, love, I suppose. And you seek my counsel for this?" she questioned, playfulness in her tone.

"Yes, if you'd like." he said, looking up at her.

Although he was tall by dwarf standards, she was still a little taller than him. He didn't complain, though. In fact, he loved it and it just fueled him to strive and become the best husband for her. If he would become her husband.

"Well then, shall we go inside? I can make us something to drink." she said, pointing to the balcony door with a nod of her head.

"Yes, inside will do. After you, m'lady. he said, and held the door for her.

"I thought we were past the titles, were we not?" she questioned playfully.

< ------------------ >

"Mmmmm" she moaned while drinking tea. "That is delicious. Now, matters of the heart, you said?" she asked, putting the now empty cup on the coffee table.

"I wish to confess. To you. About my love. For you." Gosh, this couldn't have been more akward for him.

He mentally slapped himself at least two times before she spoke :

"You mean to say that you love me? As in, love love, not just a summer fling?" her eyes were a little wider, and she was looking at him with a little disbelief in her voice and a little more hope in her eyes.

He was most surprised at this. How could she ever think that he would be interested in just... a summer fling with her. Her, who helped him along with Bilbo, when he felt lowest, her, who helped them through mourning and her, who guided him like the moon that shines even when all the stars die out.

"I... Where did you get that idea? I wish to properly court you and live and rule with you and no one else." he confessed, putting the cup down and shifting forward to offer her comfort in case she needed it. It was time he returned the favour anyways.

"I hear lots of dwarrrowdams boasting about how beautiful they are and when I look at them and then look at myself, I see that I'm not good enough. Surely you could have any woman in Erebor if you were nice enough." she explained.

He felt a pang in his chest. How could she think of her so lowly?

"Amrâlimê, I wish for no one else but you. The dwarven beauty standards be damned, in my eyes you outshine the moon, the sun, the stars, hell, the whole of Erebor. I look at you and I see such a beauty that I stagger. I look at you and ask myself 'Am I sure she is even real, when in the moon's light she shines like mithril and in the fire's light she shines like gold? When her hair, adorned with silver streams, frames her so well.'" he said as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "' When her eyes look like jewels of unthinkable value. When her kindness and patience could rub even on a dragon?'. Sometimes I believe I should be asking, no, begging for a moment of your attention, a mere worshipper begging a goddess walking the earth. I adore you, and I want you to know, to believe that if you'd ask me, I'd fight a dragon." by the end, he was on his knees in front of her, holding her hands in his and peppering kisses on her fingers and knuckles.

She was ... shocked, to say the least. She liked him for quite a while now, but was sure that it would remain just her fantasies. And now there he was, on his knees in front of her, proffesing his love, and being so soft and vulnerable. It made her heart melt and her lip tremble.

"Oh, Thorin." she sighed.

"Please, be honest. I'd be least happy you'd say you love me out of pity for me." he said, looking down.

"I love you too, dear." she said as she unclasped on of her hands from his to touch his bearded cheek and guide his gaze to meet hers.

When he looked at her, he saw she was smiling, and oh, what a beautiful smile it was. So honest and yet so addictive. He felt as if he could kiss her all day long and not get tired.

"You do? Truly?" he asked, disbelieving his ears.

She chuckled. "Yes, you silly. Now get on the couch, I'd like to kiss you if you are alright with it."

"Of course. Anything for my queen." he said as he got up and bowed to her.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕟

The people have spoken in this poll.

Here is the Bonus chapter to my TSF (S)wiped out.

True to the spirit of the story, the title is a song title. (Honest Man by Ben Platt)

Words: 4.8 k (I've tried to make it worth your while)

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Warnings: Some internalised homophobia, some insecurity, a kiss

Bilbo looked up in surprise when Thorin ambled into the bar on a Thursday night, dressed to the nines, and holding a pitiful bouquet of daisies in his broad hands.

“Did one of the ladies convince you after all?” he asked and almost set the glass he was drying down beside the counter in his puzzlement; there was a sick, unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t want to investigate.

It was but surprise, he tried to tell himself. He had been at the garden party, and he had seen the women completely forget about Thorin within half an hour of their arrival.

At least the first date was having a good time, drinking Dwalin under the table, while the sopping wet cat of a lady had been utterly engrossed in telling her whole life story to a very sympathetic looking Ori who had awkwardly patted her hand at regular intervals.

“She’ll get him to marry him before the day is over,” Bilbo had whispered.

Visibly surprised, Thorin had narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Better him than me, I’d say.”

“It’s not the crystal-peddling one, is it?” Bilbo now asked and shuddered at the thought of the woman who had been kicked out from the festivities after conning Kíli into buying a whole stock of utterly useless stones and oils.

“What?” Thorin blushed; he had not listened to a word Bilbo had said because he was so relieved to see a friendly face. “What about her? I’m sure she’s in jail or in an institution by now—ask me if I care.”

“Do you care?” Bilbo complied with a crooked grin.

“No, maybe the dragon lady can get her off lightly—why are we talking about my failed dates again? It’s done, it’s over—Dís had a funeral for my potential and we’ve all wept.” Thorin gave a short bark of laughter and gingerly put the flowers down on the counter in front of Bilbo.

“Either way, Bofur has invited the last one to an exposition on doilies,” he then explained slowly. “He was so thankful for the introduction that he…his cousin has a restaurant, did you know?”

Sniggering, Bilbo shook his head. He had been delighted to meet Thorin’s friends and family, but he was far from remembering everyone who had attended the garden party, let alone recall what they did for a living.

“So, I’ve got a reservation—very sought after, I’ll have you know—courtesy of Bofur…and I wanted to invite you.”

Picking up the same glass again and polishing exactly one hand width of the rim, Bilbo stared at Thorin in confusion. “Me?” he finally squeaked. “Why?”

“You’re the only good thing that has come out of this ordeal,” Thorin admitted sheepishly. “You had my back through the whole thing, and I wanted to show my…gratitude.” It was but half a lie, a euphemism really, he told himself encouragingly as he saw Bilbo’s face cycle through a multitude of contradicting feelings within a few seconds.

“Would it be too sad to invite your sister for dinner?” Bilbo quipped, but his voice was a little unsteady on the delivery of the snarky undertone.

“Oh, if I have to sit through another evening with a demanding, dissatisfied, disapproving female anytime soon, I’ll run mad,” Thorin groaned, “be she my sister or the currently reigning Miss Universe.”

“All right then,” Bilbo agreed, forcing his cheery nonchalance to the surface with all his might. “I reckon it cannot do me any harm to eat in another establishment for once. When is your reservation? I’ll see if I am free.”

“Whenever you are free,” Thorin replied just a little too fast and too fervently. “I’ve not settled a date yet—I wanted to check with you when you’d be available.”

Bilbo blushed furiously. It hit him like a ton of bricks that Thorin had not invited him because he had not found anybody else to go with him on a particular night—he had wanted Bilbo specifically to spend the evening with him in a fancy restaurant and had taken precautions in his planning of the outing to make it so.

Having watched Thorin jump through every imaginable flaming hoop in the name of being a good date, Bilbo of course knew how dedicated the other man was to these things, but he had never considered the possibility of ever being on the receiving end of such generosity and kindness himself.

“Tomorrow? I can find someone to man the fort for me—I’ve not taken time off in years, I think I deserve that,” Bilbo mused out loud.

“Tomorrow it is,” Thorin said, confident that he’d get a table for the next day. Bilbo could appreciate and even envy that kind of self-assurance and faith.

“Do I meet you there or…”

“I can pick you up here or…”

Lifting a slightly trembling hand to his burning cheeks, Bilbo scribbled his home address on a cocktail napkin and handed it over jerkily—it was surprisingly hard to pry his fingers off the cheap paper though.

“Shall we say 7 o’clock?” Thorin asked, his eyes gleaming with triumph and boundless joy.

Bilbo nodded, feeling increasingly like a wooden doll that had been turned into a real boy unexpectedly.

“Good, I am looking forward to it. Wear something nice!” Thorin chirped and turned to the door without having ordered a drink; usually, this went against the house rules and would have merited a stern scolding by Bilbo but, on this one occasion, the flustered barkeeper decided to make an exception.

“Thorin!” he called faintly. “You do know that I am gay, right?”

There, it was out. Bilbo thought that it had been implied and referenced often enough for Thorin to get the hint, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that neither one of them was misconstruing what would happen the next day.

“Hmmm,” Thorin hummed over his shoulder, winking at Bilbo with a flash of charisma he had not lavished liberally on his female dates. “That’s why I brought you flowers. There are more where those came from, you know?”

“I love flowers,” Bilbo exclaimed passionately before he could remember his good manners and remind himself not to look overeager or spoiled.

“Then you shall have them,” Thorin grinned. “See you tomorrow!”

Bilbo snarled like a feral creature at this wardrobe; the old, weathered wood did not think his frustration worthy of a reply though and merely kept gaping at the fool its owner was making of himself out of its open drawers and doors.

“Wear something nice,” he muttered under his breath as he discarded the cream-coloured shirt he had been wearing for the last 5 minutes—he had given that one a longer chance than the five that had been tried and rejected before.

Picking up the third shirt again, he eyed it suspiciously. He liked the rich green colour and the fabric felt nice under his fingertips, but the cut was rather unfortunate as it would allow Thorin to see the smidgen of pudge he had not been able to get rid of. Pilates and conscious eating be damned!

Thorin was not a monster, he tried to remind himself; he had sat through dates with five women who had looked very different from one another, and he had not cancelled or aborted any of his meetings on account of their appearance.

Surely, he would not hold the negligible lack of perfect fitness against a man he had mainly seen only partially as Bilbo tended to hide behind the bar whenever he got flustered.

Nevertheless, Bilbo wanted to look his best, lest Thorin suspect that he was taking this date less than seriously. Maybe, he thought uncertainly, that would actually be for the better—just in case the brooding beauty had merely joked about the flowers.

Better not get his foolish hopes up! And he should hurry. And he had forgotten to comb his curls after the shower and now they had dried in a tangled mess. And it was almost time. And he had not even started on the trousers…

Just as he was about to have a panic attack on account of all the things he had clearly not considered well enough beforehand, Bilbo was interrupted in his downward spiral by the sound of his doorbell being rung.

Necessity and urgency made him jump into a nice pair of light brown trousers and pull the tight, green shirt over his unkempt head while shuffling towards the front door.

“Oh hey,” he huffed as he pulled it open, feeling like a proper romance novel hero.

Instead of the expected face—chiselled, bearded, and gleaming with mischief—he looked into a luscious bouquet of multi-coloured flowers.

“Good evening. Am I early?”

Checking his wristwatch and suppressing another groan, Bilbo assured Thorin that he was right on time. “I had a hard time choosing what to wear. Is this nice enough?”

The flowers were lowered instantly, and the electrifying glow of those startlingly blue eyes washed over a woefully agitated Bilbo appreciatively. “Absolutely perfect,” Thorin praise and extended his elbow to Bilbo. “Shall we?”

“2 minutes,” Bilbo promised, took the flowers, and dashed into the kitchen to put them into a vase. As he heard Thorin rummaging in the foyer, he allowed himself to bury his face in their fragrant beauty for a short moment before running back out and valiantly trying to slip into both his shoes at the same time.

“Don’t let my eagerness put any pressure on you,” Thorin said kindly. “We have time. I just thought we’d go there early so you can order the most complicated cocktail on the menu and watch someone else make it.”

“I am hardly that pitiless,” Bilbo snorted and shot back up as if pulled by a string. “I am all ready. Let’s go!”

In the end, Thorin did convince Bilbo to order a fancy cocktail while ordering a beer for himself.

“Bottle of that one,” Bilbo tapped the fancy card laid out in front of him, “I’ve seen what you’ve got on tap, and I think this one will be much better appreciated!”

The barkeeper stared at him for a moment before shrugging and complying.

“Ah, to have one’s own barkeeper,” Thorin sighed contentedly. “This is already a better date than any of the others!”

“Glad to be of service,” Bilbo laughed and moved the basket with peanuts resolutely out of Thorin’s reach. “You’re snacking me out of a home,” he explained with a wink, “and we’re here to have dinner, so I won’t let you ruin your appetite by gorging yourself on nuts! They only put those out because they make you thirsty.”

Staring longingly at the snack, Thorin nodded nonetheless and turned his hungry, intense gaze fully on Bilbo.

While waiting for their table to be ready, they talked about their families, their friends, and their plans in life.

“I’ve always wanted to work with people, you know? I love the bar, but it’s not as if that was all I’ve ever dreamed of…” Bilbo said dreamily, berating himself only vaguely for having downed that cocktail much too fast on an empty stomach—he rarely indulged in alcohol himself as it made him emotional and much too honest.

“I know a guy who works in construction,” Thorin replied candidly. “If you ever want to expand the business, I can give you his card.”

“Sure thing,” Bilbo giggled and leaned back, only to realise—a moment too late—that the barstool did not have a backrest. A broad, strong hand kept him from toppling from his chair though and then, Thorin’s warm breath ghosted along the shell of his ear as he pushed a discreet card over.

“That is your card,” Bilbo snorted after a single glance. “Couldn’t you simply have given me your number?”

“After all the time you’ve spend fiddling with my phone, I think you could have simply saved yours in it!” Thorin shot back, a bit miffed.

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“I’ve checked.”

There was not much Bilbo could say to that. “All right,” he grinned and pocketed the card. “I’ll call you. About the expansion. And other things. Depending on how this evening goes…No, actually, I think I’ll call you anyway, if only to yell at you!”

“Deal,” Thorin quipped and nodded at someone across the room. “The table is ready.”

Surprise and amazement surged within Bilbo as soon as he saw it—there were slim, white candles and pale pink roses. This truly was a table laid for an intimate date rather than a friendly dinner, and he couldn’t keep his cheeks from warming visibly.

For a single heartbeat, the world seemed to stop in its tracks and every truth he had ever accepted placidly slid out of place—Bilbo suddenly longed for more. He wanted to be brave enough to turn around and simply kiss Thorin, in front of a full restaurant and his extended family, he wanted to expand his business into serving real food and maybe even offering a few rooms for rent, he wanted more than the comfortable life of a well-liked bachelor. He wanted this—this table, this atmosphere, this man—forever.

And then, that uniquely fragile and heart-wrenching moment passed, and they went back to discussing everything and nothing.

When the first course was served, Thorin realised that there had not been a single uncomfortable silence in their conversation and that he felt relaxed and happy instead of tense and miserable in a potentially romantic setting which was the first time in long years.

“So, no news from your ladies?” Bilbo circled back to the subject that haunted him.

“Hmmm? Oh yes, some keep me posted about their life. I am a great listener and a cool friend to have,” Thorin replied easily, snatching a piece of bread out of the basket Bilbo had tried to move out of his direct line of sight.

“I know,” Bilbo commented dryly and gave the breadbasket back with an apologetic shrug.

“It’s all the same,” Thorin explained slowly between bites, “friendship and love, I mean. Most of the time, it just doesn’t click and then you’re better off as friends, wouldn’t you agree? No need to throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

Bilbo nodded cautiously. “Do you think the opposite can happen as well? Falling in love with a friend?”

Instantly, Thorin’s eyes lit up like a chemical fire. “Isn’t that the dream? Falling in love with a friend and being loved back? That’s what dreams are made of!”

For someone who had just dragged himself through his dates as if bearing a calvary, Bilbo thought. Thorin seemed very convinced of his theory and enthusiastic about the prospect that such a thing could happen to anyone.

“So, there’s still a chance for some of them?” Bilbo couldn’t believe his own words—why couldn’t he just let it go?

“No way,” Thorin immediately assured him. “Romantic, then platonic, then romantic again? I’m afraid that goes a bit too far. No, I just want to find someone I am comfortable with.”

He should not have agreed to the delicious bottle of wine Thorin had ordered and from which a discreet waiter kept filling up their glasses, Bilbo realised at the very moment his treacherous tongue went off like a shot. “Indeed,” he heard himself say, “I am convinced that you deserve so much better than these women. None of them has even tried to get to know you or has cared even one bit about whether you wanted a refill or were hungry, or bored, or uncomfortable.”

His voice kept growing louder and more animated and yet, Thorin merely grinned at him as if his clumsy rant was pure poetry. He looked so handsome in his white button-down and dark trousers that Bilbo somehow couldn’t stop himself from complaining about how he thought none of the women deserved a second chance as they had failed to express the appropriate level of appreciation for the kind, handsome, and charming man with whom they had had the honour of spending the evening.

“My glass was always full,” Thorin reminded Bilbo gently, “thanks to you. Moreover, you’ve healed my heart by pouring all the compliments you apparently thought I missed out on upon my undeserving head right now.” His sturdy hand came to rest on Bilbo’s pacifyingly. “They are no longer important; let’s talk about something pleasant instead. Did you like your flowers?”

“Of course,” Bilbo replied and nodded his head so vehemently that his curls fanned out like a golden halo. “That was a very nice gesture. What would you like to discuss then?”

Pressing his lips together to prevent any stupid, premature outburst to ruin his chances, Thorin collected his thoughts for a moment; he was astonished and delighted to notice that he had indeed learned something during the martyrdom of his recent dating history.

He also found that he didn’t really care at all—his tense shoulders relaxed, and his smile softened gradually as the stress of the last weeks just melted away. “Anything is fine by me, anything but them. What do you have planned for this weekend?”

“Work,” Bilbo snorted. “As any other day. I’ve thought about maybe trying to get a Sunday brunch thing going.” He tapped a finger against his plush, inviting lips pensively.

Thorin’s eyebrows travelled up his forehead as a new idea took hold in his head. “If I come by to look around the premises and tell you what is possible in terms of expansion, I’d take a test-brunch as my payment.”

“Is that so?” Bilbo cocked his head. “It would only be you and me though.”

“It’s only you and me now,” Thorin commented astutely. “Just the way I like things, as it turns out!”

“Well, then, by all means, be my guest. I’ll prepare a spread for you that you won’t forget!”

Somehow, Thorin did not doubt that for a single second. Bilbo was a man who truly enjoyed food; he had become the mesmerised witness of the profound and otherworldly pleasure his guest could take in a well-prepared meal, and he yearned to see that blissed-out expression on Bilbo’s soft, mobile features more often.

There were many things he longed for, now that he came to think of it: the amused little side-glance Bilbo gave him when he got extraordinarily huffy about something utterly irrelevant, the beaming smile a slightly buzzed Bilbo cracked whenever Thorin said something even remotely funny, and—more than anything else—the quiet gaze of solidarity and affection he had caught from the corner of his eye at times. Somehow, Bilbo seemed to intrinsically feel or know just what was needed to save Thorin from a disagreeable situation or an extended session of senseless brooding.

“Any allergies?” Bilbo asked, interrupting Thorin’s realisation that he could not remember ever having enjoyed a date half as much as this dinner.

“Hmm? No…sorry, I was miles away in my thoughts.”

“I could tell. Are you tired, do you want to skip dessert?” Bilbo asked gently, patting Thorin’s hand to make him understand that he was neither angry nor disappointed. “I feel like I’ve eaten my own weight already anyway.”

“Maybe,” Thorin replied with a wink, “next time? I have been told that Bombur’s chocolate soufflé is to die for.”

Bilbo’s eyes lit up at the word “soufflé” and, true to his nature, he didn’t need any more convincing or coaxing after that.

“By the way, I am not tired, no,” Thorin said when he saw a thickly laden spoon full of gooey deliciousness be ensconced firmly between Bilbo’s lips. “I was just thinking how much I like being here with you.”

“You don’t think I am a gluttonous pig?” Bilbo mouthed around his spoon, his eyes twinkling with good cheer and sugar-fuelled ecstasy.

“I don’t,” Thorin assured him; he had never given the gender of his potential partners much thought before. He had always surmised that he was just the kind of man who was only attractive to a select group of people that kept dwindling fast as the years went by—that set had been comprised of mainly women by chance or accident thus far, and Thorin had had no say in the matter or reason to contest that.

If that was about to change now, he thought placidly, he wouldn’t object to changing his habits and adapt his expectations to the reality of his prospects and desires.

Never in a thousand years would he have presumed to find such a comfortable and yet exciting potential lover in a surprisingly prim barkeeper with a wicked sense of humour and a deep love for flavourful food. Bilbo evidently loved life and—seeing him celebrate others’ successes without reticence or envy—reminded Thorin of how much he had sacrificed throughout his own existence.

“You make me feel alive,” he confessed, “the way you eat, the way you talk, the way you smile at me. It’s as if you could turn back the time and make me believe that it’s not too late for me to be happy. Is that cheesy?”

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, licking his spoon, “but I love cheese. Actually, the olives they served with the bread. Do you know where they get them from?”

“They pickle or brine or marinate them themselves,” Thorin replied sheepishly. “I do not know. I am a mediocre cook.” That was a bold lie; his cooking was positively awful, but he didn’t want Bilbo to know. After this charming evening, Thorin would crawl to his sister and implore her to impart her valuable wisdom to redress that flaw as soon as he could.

“Hmmm, I wonder if they’d share the recipe,” Bilbo mused aloud. For a moment, Thorin was taken in by his casual musings, but then he realised that Bilbo’s eyes were just a smidgen too feverish now even though his initial inebriation had worn off long since.

“What is the matter?”

“Are you playing me, Thorin?” Bilbo asked in a quiet, shivering voice. “I am not like those women; I don’t put my heart on the line recklessly.”

“I am not. Why do you say that?”

“I’ve watched you go on dates with 5 women in about as many weeks,” Bilbo exclaimed, clapping his hand over his trembling lips when a few other stragglers turned to him in startled surprise or outright annoyance. “I…Do you even…”

“I don’t care,” Thorin said firmly, the conviction that he was on the right track constantly growing within his heart. “I just know that you make me feel good about the world, life, and myself. When you’re around, everything seems a little brighter and less fatal than I’ve always thought it’d be, and I want that in my life.”

“A friend,” Bilbo muttered. “I can be your friend—you’re an amazing person to be around and you’re, as always, too hard on yourself. You’re actually not so bad yourself and you’ve been the only source of entertainment these last few weeks—I really have to get something new going to spruce the old dig up.”

Me, Thorin thought desperately. In his mind, he could see it—a crystal clear vision of perfect bliss. He’d come to the bar after work and sit by the counter, telling Bilbo about his day.

His friends could come, and maybe his disastrous dates could become regulars as well, who knew? He certainly wouldn’t mind keeping them in his life as casual acquaintances.

Saturday sessions on the job site, Sunday brunches. Everything—his plans of letting his nephews slowly take over more important clients and bear more responsibility in the firm as well as Bilbo’s designs for his own place—suddenly made sense.

Despite the late hour, Thorin felt invigorated and refreshed as after a long and restful night.

“Bilbo,” he interrupted the frantic babbling about avocado toast and different swatches of pastel colours gently but firmly. “I am not asking you to be my friend.”

Thorin took out his wallet and left a generous tip, knowing that Bombur would send the actual bill to his office for discretion purposes. “Let’s go; it’s a fine night and I think we could both do with a little digestive walk, don’t you think?”

Nodding dumbly, Bilbo allowed himself to insert his hand into the crook of Thorin’s elbow and be led out of the fancy, by now almost entirely empty, restaurant as if he was indeed the guest of honour of the night. A soppy smile struggled to take hold of his mouth and distort it into an unforgivably silly expression of emotion, but he managed to bite it back just in time as Thorin’s luminous gaze fell upon his face.

“Oh, you were made to be seen under the stars,” Bilbo whispered as all the blues, blacks, and silvers of Thorin’s complexion melted into the background of a starry night sky to create an ephemeral work of art that was painted by the hands of fate just for his own momentary enjoyment. “If only I had known—I’d opened the outdoor seating for your dates.”

“Humbug,” Thorin chuckled. “They’d have fallen ill and I’d have had to foot the bill for their medical expenses. Thank you, but no, thank you.”

Steering Bilbo confidently, he took him to an outlook platform over a small river and they felt the cool night air make their hair dance in the fragrant breeze. The whole scene felt absolutely magical and otherworldly to Bilbo who sighed longingly under his breath.

“As much as I love your bar,” Thorin said in a low, vibrating voice, “there are many places I’d want to take a date outside of it. This is but one of those.”

Bilbo hummed patiently, turning up his face to bask in the beauty of his companion—he had only ever seen Thorin in the pub and, now that he had spent a whole evening with him, he had to agree. Indeed, he himself desired to see Thorin in other contexts: illuminated by flickering candlelight and bathed in the pale gleam of the moon, sitting in the blazing afternoon sun…and waking up to the first, shy rays of the nascent morning.

“I think,” Thorin went on, lifting his hand to grip Bilbo’s chin tenderly between his thumb and crooked index, “that I want to take you to those places. Are you game? You don’t have to…I mean…There’s no need to spare my feelings now out of pity only to break my heart later.”

Instantly, Bilbo’s own heart started throbbing in empathy and affection; Thorin had experienced so much rejection and disappointment lately that he came to simply expect that things would end badly for him.

Nonetheless, he had been brave enough to try something completely different and ask out someone who was not at all in the usual pool of potential partners for him—and he had done marvellously. Bilbo could not remember having ever gone on such a beautiful and utterly bewitching date before, and every fibre of his being dreaded the end of this night.

What if it had all been a dream?

“I’d love that,” he replied breathlessly, resolving to match Thorin’s reckless courage and giving in to foolish hope against all odds.

“Good,” Thorin grinned winningly.

A moment later, his lips—warm and sensual—brushed against Bilbo’s in a tentative kiss that felt like a caress and tasted sweet and refreshing like a splash of spring water.

Damn it, Bilbo thought hazily, and threw his arms around Thorin’s neck, giving his massive frame a vigorous tug until they collided in the stillness of the picturesque night scene like two meteors burning across the endless black backdrop.

Their kiss turned feverish, thrumming with words unspoken and questions unasked, while their hands roamed forcefully and desperately across each other’s backs and sides as if in search of something to hold on to as the world spun out of focus.

“I’ll come by on Sunday,” Thorin promised as he finally pulled back; his face radiated with joy in the ambient obscurity and his thumbs brushed caressingly against Bilbo’s shivering ribs. “And I’ve changed my mind about the price of my consultation. A brunch, yes, but also about two thousand more of these kisses. Generous as I am, I shall let you pay them off by regular instalments."

"Sounds like a deal,” Bilbo agreed, dizzy with relief and anticipation. “How about you come by Saturday night and allow me to make a down payment after closing time?”

“Ah, you’ve got a sound mind for business,” Thorin cackled, pulling Bilbo into a tight, warm embrace and leaning his bearded cheek against the top of the curly head of the shorter man tenderly. “I can see that we’ll get along just fine.”

@lordoftherazzles, @mysandwichranaway thank you for your encouragement and your support.

Lots of love from me!

And all my gratitude to the Bagginshielders for having voted so fervently for their OTP; I hope I could bring this story to a satisfactory close for y'all.