#bilbo's handkerchiefs

[blakbonnet]

he's an ew ugh typa girl

[cervenakoviny]

Má to ťažké, ten náš notár...

[idontknowhowtoplayguitar]

Lotr headcanon, having lots of patches on your clothes is fashionable in the Shire. The more patches, the cooler you are. Especially if it's a lot of different fabrics. It's common to trade patches with friends and family, and it's usually treated with high sentimental value. It's like carrying a piece of someone with you.

While the hobbits are on the quest, their clothes get holes and such. This leads Sam and Frodo to nab small things from the other members of the fellowship, like handkerchiefs or anything too worn for use, to use as patches. Merry and Pippin aren't so courteous, and cut pieces from the fellowship's clothes while they sleep.

Of course, the hobbits exchange patches amongst themselves while traveling, and they never go anywhere without a needle and some thread. Sam is the best at sewing. Pippin is not allowed around needles.

Boromir notices this, thinks it's adorable, and leaves things out purposely for the hobbits to use. Eventually, he asks about it, and they convince him to do the patches, too.

Aragorn also notices and thinks it's adorable, but doesn't bring it up to them. He's secretly flattered to find pieces of his rag on Frodo's pants. He asks Boromir about it instead.

Legolas doesn't notice. His clothes are elven-made, and the scissors refuse to cut it.

Gimli notices the random holes in his clothes, and the things going missing, but doesn't realize it's the hobbits. He brings it up to Legolas, who immediately convinces Gimli that he's crazy and it's all in his head.

Gandalf notices, obviously, and he doesn't mind until Pippin tries to cut his cloak while hes asleep. He proceeds to wake up and yell at him until dawn.

After Boromir dies, Aragorn takes his cloak, and sews pieces onto his clothes. These are the only patches he has.

Bilbo has a set of clothes with patches from the dwarves, from his own adventure. He told them about the tradition, and they all gave him pieces of fabric to use. He can still recount which patch belonged to who.

[ragsweas]

CRYING THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

tiktok being banned in the US just as I’m able to make this a usable sound is genuinely homophobic

[babe-bombadil]

Please reblog for bigger sample size because this is very important information

[autistook]

ON THIS DAY

April 28th - Bilbo, Gandalf and the Dwarves leave Bag End

'Very puffed he was, when he got to Bywater just on the stroke of eleven, and found he had come without a pocket-handkerchief!'

[shirefantasies]

Not Here- Bilbo Baggins x F!Reader

Warnings: reader is sick (like cold/fever type sick), a bit suggestive hehe

For all the world you thought you were being discreet. Taking off an extra layer, after all, was nothing unusual. Perhaps you'd been breathing louder than you realized, sniffed one too many times. The dwarves liked you, you knew that, but in fact they liked you so much that so much as a sniffle out of you would sic Oin and Dori both upon you. Cue teasing from the princes and-

“Hello? Are- are you? Alright, that is?”

Oh, yes, of all people, thank the Valar, it was Bilbo who had taken notice of you. One of the features that had struck you most about him was his natural abundance of comfort and care, even if it was in a tightly-wound package. The way he looked at you whenever anything went wrong, the softness of his grey eyes just-

“That’s it,” he spoke your name in one exasperated huff, “come here.”

You came to him almost against your own bidding, aware of your actions but feeling quite amongst the swimming like your head had come untethered from your body. Moving of some accord beyond your own as your mind raced. Bilbo looked into each of your eyes one by one, shaking his head. They must have looked glassy.

“I am only fussing because I care,” Bilbo insisted before turning to the rest of the company, voice and hands raised, “I think we should take a rest!”

“Of course you do,” Dwalin snorted most unkindly, bringing a slight frown to your face.

Admittedly, you had never liked the way some of the dwarves treated Bilbo, especially amidst the hypocrisy of the way the very same gentleman would fall over themselves to make you comfortable for the simple fact of your being a woman. Bilbo treated you with the greatest respect and normalcy of them all, though that was probably due to his embodiment of home’s hearth as well as being the most well-adjusted. Sympathy coursed through you every time you imagined the place you'd once known as home if it were to be destroyed by a massive fire drake. You'd simply left yours behind, following where your heart moved and the respect you held for all the great art Ori, Oin, and Dori had shown you. It was them and Bofur, the kindhearted dwarf who reminded you of your uncle, that really had you on their side fighting for them. That was part of the reason they simply could not receive revelation of your illness. No need for the whole flock's feathers to bristle.

“Not for me,” the hobbit shot back, exasperated yet again as he gestured your way, “for our company’s fairest member. She was too proud to say. Any objections now?”

Fair? Supposing he spoke of all the old ‘fairer sex’ adages.

No objections posed. It was a bit early to waste kindling on a fire, but seats were found and even some boots kicked off as you hunched down upon your own bedroll. Holding the handkerchief you had offered to Bilbo at the beginning of the journey up to your face, you half hid from the world, half dabbed at your nose, eyelashes fluttering and lips rising in silent thanks toward the hobbit.

Said hobbit who had not left your side since taking notice of you, though he surprised you with less tutting and shaking of his head than you’d expected.

At that thought, a smile crept its way to your face. Perhaps thinking it was directed his way, Bilbo returned the quirk of lips quickly, then shifted closer to you, your arm brushing against the soft velvet of his coat sleeve. First he pressed a tin cup of something steaming-tea, you thought- into your kerchiefed hands.

“How are you now? Better? Or if you want I could-”

“Not here,” you cut him off, waving the hand that wasn’t curled around the warm cup. How had you gone from peeling off layers to seeking the heat against your palm? When had you, for that matter?

Your head swam a little too much to consider this further. For the same reason you did not protest when Bilbo tightened up his own bedroll and tucked it behind your back, leaning into the added softness and feeling your eyelids flutter.

“Better?”

His voice was so soft. A nod was your response, relief flooding your hot-cold body and washing over your flushed-feeling cheeks. Shifting sounded at your side, prompting another fluttering of lashes, this time opening upon the hobbit and the faint light tinted green by the great trees at his back, though your focus remained upon him.

Bilbo’s next action all but swept you off your feet with surprise. Still facing you, this time only inches from your face, the ghost of his breath hitting the curve of your cheekbone, he leaned even closer.

His grey eyes took your focus completely, cutting into the delirium of feeling your mind outside of your body, anchoring you back into sensation. Realization that the world was still going on around you broad and beautiful as ever, but small as well, small as this little world between you and Bilbo and shrinking, too. Suddenly his forehead touched yours and there he held, warmth blooming beneath your skin from that point of contact.

“Well, you’ve definitely a bit of a fever.”

He was checking your temperature? Like that? Never had you seen it done such a way. Only with the back of one’s hand…

Your gaze did not drop, rather it held fast, unable to release its tether to sensation, or rather its concept. All your floating mind could conceive of, again and again, was Bilbo sealing your little world fully, all the life fading outside of his lips upon yours.

Faintly you registered the sound of his voice uttering your name barely above a whisper, but you said nothing until your point of contact tilted, granting your wish and sending your head swimming in a completely new and much more delicious manner. Bilbo’s lips were far more desperate upon yours than you’d imagined, pressing deeply and slowly savoring your every motion of response. Instinctively you took hold of his shoulders to guide the push and pull, though surprisingly even to you you were the one who first broke contact, pulling away ever-so-slightly at the feeling of Bilbo’s tongue darting hesitantly along your lips.

“Not here,” you repeated yourself teasingly, summoning up a faint smirk as you gave his shoulders a squeeze, “besides, I could have you catching your death too.”

The hobbit’s arms found purchase about your waist, sunlight gleaming from the tree line into his curls, illuminating soft brown with highlights of pure gold. His eyes flicked with lightning speed and about as much discretion back down to your lips before they returned to your gaze.

His countenance was surprisingly sheepish for a moment, quieting his doe-eyed reply. “Well, that might not be such a bad thing. After all, then we can be all wrapped up together, no?” Peeping at you from beneath his lashes- did he realize what he did to you?

“If you’re sick, we might have to share a bedroll. So as not to contaminate the others, of course,” you supplemented.

“I think I’m feeling a bit under the weather already,” Bilbo said hastily, tugging at the collar of his buttoned shirt.

Smiling, you leaned forward to connect your foreheads once more, feeling his hands tighten a bit about your waist with the motion. “Perhaps we should get some rest before the others come fawning over us.”

“Fawning over you, maybe. I suspect quite a great deal of complaining, too.” Foxlike was Bilbo’s next grin, a look of wicked satisfaction unlike anything you had witnessed upon his sweet face before. His hands upon your waist began roaming ever so slightly, his voice lowering. “Envy, too. Are you certain not here? I won’t tire you out too much, I promise.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🥰

[laneynoir]

Bilbo needs his handkerchief!

That’s all, folks!

[lauramkaye]

Okay so like we all love a story where Bilbo ends up picking up dwarf habits/expressions after the Adventure. Braids! Swearing in Khuzdul under his breath! Saying "Mahal" instead of "Aulë"! Using hilariously inappropriate expressions like "by my beard!" All great.

However I think I may be even MORE charmed by any of the Company but especially Thorin (who is, you know, ALIVE and FINE) starting to do HOBBIT things as well. Especially if it is done through a desire to make Bilbo feel more accepted/welcome. And extra especially if it is done on purpose with that patented Thorin Oakenshield Complete Lack Of Any Chill Whatsoever, Any Time, About Anything.

I just love to think of the King Under The Mountain sending spies to the Shire to learn their secrets, or commissioning a set of extremely over the top gemstone-encrusted doilies for the council chamber, or getting the weaver's guild to make gossamer-fine brocades depicting Bilbo's most heroic deeds that are turned into pocket handkerchiefs that Thorin uses ostentatiously. Instituting an official royal Afternoon Tea. Learning folksy Shire expressions like it's a foreign language and using them with immense gravitas at court. And then immediately darting a look at Bilbo to see if he noticed.

And Bilbo nearly giving himself an internal injury repressing giggles, because Thorin is trying SO HARD and he's touched, he really is, it's just that the image of him sitting on his throne in his royal finery in front of these dwarf lords and talking like Gaffer Gamgee--while all the other dwarfs nod along solemnly--is the funniest damn thing he's seen in all his days.

(I love them so.)

[smoking-old-toby]

bilbo is seen as fussy. you know with his handkerchiefs and stuff. but let's get real. which one of them is the groomzilla during wedding planning shit? obviously thorin

[theficdealer]

“How do I—! How do I know!” Bilbo echoed, bristling with exasperation. “I journeyed all the way across Middle Earth, through forests and over the hills, crossed the Misty Mountains and the Great Greenwood through to the ruins of the great City of Dale and further still to Erebor, fighting goblins and orcs and giant spiders and a whole blasted war, then did the whole thing again in reverse, and you have the gall to ask me how I know!”

There was a beat of total silence. “Well, it was a reasonable question,” said Fortinbras, stung.

Bilbo drew in a long breath through his nose and gave an almighty huff. “Mark my words. All of you,” he said, pointing a finger at all the gathered faces, his voice tight with the desperation to be taken seriously. The dwarves would have listened. They would’ve had his back. “You must evacuate Hobbiton. Take only what you need to survive, and run. Go east. Forget your handkerchiefs and hang the silver spoons. Anyone who stays here, will die.”

“Now, Bilbo…”

He held up a hand to his cousin’s face. “No. No, don’t. You’ll see. Take my advice or don’t, you’ll see,” he said, casting a fearful glance at the smoke billowing from the ruins of the first raid. It was the pebble before the avalanche, and there were already more, thinner trails of smoke joining the larger one. A lump formed in his throat. They were already coming. He gave one last, loud proclamation to the crowd. “Flee on the east road. Tell anyone, everyone — we have no choice.”

—Excerpt from There Is One They Could Follow (One They Could Call Thain) by Oakensting (WorseOmens) on ao3

Basically, Bilbo pulls a Thorin Oakenshield and leads his people from the orc-ravaged Shire to safety. Meanwhile in Erebor, Thorin refuses to believe Bilbo is dead.

Sadly, i think this fic was deleted. I mourned it more than some family members.

Wayback machine link in comments, thank you @st4rp1x3l and on a rb from @valewright67 !!

*staggers into the room Kramer-style covered in water, soot, glitter, and slivers of paper from the waste bin of a paper shredder like confetti* So, guess who just watched the lotr trilogy for the first time despite being a fan of the Hobbit for a literal decade! Also the last two (three?) months have sucked ass and I’m exhausted, so buckle up.

Anyway, this is one of my comfort fics, I love it so much. Everything from the Pining(TM) to the blatant parallels between the dwarves and hobbits.

Things I loved in particular:

Gandalf the White Ox

Kíli taking one look at Thorin and being like “oh I know exactly what’s going on here”

Hamfast and Drogo

Petty Thorin

Seriously, he’s so petty I love it

Bard just being like “yeah, that’s pretty much how I was when I lost my wife”

The r e u n i o n

“you’re like a hobbit king!” “my title is thain, actually” *incredulous staring*

splash fight<3

The acorn speech<3<3<3

The “New Polite”

Dwobbit debate

read it or the ulnas are mine <3

[smallesthobbit]

The Hobbit & The Dwarf {P.II} || Thorin Oakenshield

Synopsis - The Company almost get eaten by Mountain Trolls.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Part One Here.

Word Count - 2k.

{Caffeinate Me}

It was early in the morning when you awoke. The dwarves were getting ready to leave and there was no sight of Bilbo, he was still fast asleep in his room, blissfully unaware of the carnage that was going on in his home. You had knocked on your brother’s door but hadn’t gauged a response, so, sighing you trudged to the dwarves. “He’s still asleep,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with them. “But he’ll join us when he wakes up.” 

“He will,” Gandalf reassured, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing slightly. 

The rest of the morning went by quickly as you got ready to leave for your adventure. Eventually you were riding on a pony next to Gandalf, out of Bag End and towards wherever your next destination was. You were talking to Dwalin, chatting about your life as a Hobbit and your life living with your brother when all of a sudden you heard a voice from behind. “Wait for me!” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and spotted Bilbo, running and shouting in the distance, waving a piece of paper above his head. “I signed it!” It being the quest contract that Thorin and Balin had proposed the night before declaring Bilbo would be the official burglar for the adventure. 

You all came to a halt on your ponies, turning to face the Hobbit who had finally caught up to the Company. “Bilbo!” Gandalf exclaimed. “I knew you would come.” 

“Well, when I realised you had taken my sister,” Bilbo started. “I had no choice but to come.” 

“Hey, she willingly came with us,” Fili piped up from near the front, patting his pony on the forehead. 

Bilbo frowned, his eyes wandering over to you in disappointment. “That’s besides the point. I had no choice, but I signed your document. I am now your official burglar.” Bilbo smiled widely as he handed Balin the fully signed document. 

“Aye, all appears to be in order,” Balin said as he looked over the document carefully. “Welcome aboard Master Baggins.” 

“We have one problem,” Gandalf mumbled, looking around at the Company. “We appear to be one pony short. Meaning Bilbo, or Y/N, will have to ride with someone.” 

“Oh no!” Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes wide as his hands fiddled inside his pockets. “I appear to have left without my pocket handkerchief! We’ll have to go back.” 

“You’ll have to do without a pocket handkerchief laddie,” a dwarf shouted from the front. “Amongst other things.” 

“Bilbo can have my pony,” you piped up, ignoring the pocket handkerchief debacle. “I’ll share with someone.” 

Gandalf nodded, a small smile of appreciation forming on his face. “Very well. You can ride with Thorin.” Your eyes widened slightly. You hadn’t engaged with Thorin at all since you had met him yesterday evening, so for Gandalf to suggest you ride with him instead of any of the other dwarves came as quite a shock to you. 

Gandalf climbed off his horse to help you off your pony before helping Bilbo up. You walked over to Thorin at the front of the Company who was gazing down at you, his eyes boring into your very soul. You cleared your throat and gave him an awkward smile. “Looks like I’m riding with you.”

“Aye,” was all Thorin said as Gandalf helped you onto his pony. 

The journey continued for hours, constantly moving at a steady pace throughout the forests and open world. Your hands remained by your side as you fought to stay on Thorin’s pony, when suddenly you hit a bump in the road. To stop yourself from falling off, your arms instinctively wrapped around Thorin’s waist tightly and a squeak left your lips. “Sorry!” You exclaimed. 

“It’s fine,” Thorin grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat at the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. Thorin looked around at the space you were at and nodded to himself. “We rest here tonight.” 

The other dwarves came to a halt on their ponies just before Thorin’s. Some were complaining that they were wet and hungry, while others were just excited to get some shut eye for the night. Thorin climbed off his pony and held his hand out to help you down. Hesitantly you took it and were pulled off the pony before you even had a chance to gather your thoughts at his larger hand in yours. Oin and Gloin were attempting to get a fire going, but the sticks and surrounding area were too wet from the rain for a spark to light. Then, some of the dwarves started arguing: they were all cold, wet and hungry – you couldn’t exactly blame them. “Wait, is that a light over there?” Kili asked, pointing to a warm glow in the distance. 

“It is!” Dwalin exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked at the warm glow. 

“We should go over there,” Fili spoke up confidently. Some of the dwarves were for this idea, while some were against it. 

“It could be anything,” Bombur said as he furrowed his eyebrows. “It could be anyone.” 

“Better than being cold and hungry!” Nori replied, stepping foot in the direction of the glowing light. 

“Not so fast,” Thorin said, grabbing Nori by his collar and stopping him dead in his tracks. “We have a burglar with us. Master Baggins, care to find out what that glowing light is for us?” 

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he pointed at himself. “M-Me?” 

“Yes you,” Thorin said sternly. “Hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl if you find yourself in any trouble and we will do what we can.” And just like that, Thorin pushed Bilbo in the direction of the light. Your eyes widened as you watched your brother disappear into the forest – he had no idea how to hoot like an owl if he got into trouble! 

“We can’t let Bilbo go out there,” you said quickly, pointing in the direction he had scurried off in. “Where is Gandalf?” You asked, looking around to find that the wizard had all but disappeared. The dwarves looked around and also took notice that Gandalf had disappeared, some of them shrugged and some of them frowned. You shook your head, shaking the matter off before returning to the real matter at hand. “He’s going to get himself killed out there.” 

“You have little faith in your brother,” Thorin pointed out. 

You visibly frowned at his comment and shook your head. “It’s not that. We’ve lived a rather sheltered life, we don’t know how to screech like owls if we get into trouble!” Your voice came out in a hiss. 

“Maybe Y/N is right,” Balin spoke softly, interrupting Thorin’s train of thought. “Maybe we should go after Bilbo to make sure he’s okay.” 

Thorin clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, sighing. “Fine.” He was beginning to regret bringing these Hobbits along on this quest. And so, the dwarves and yourself trekked off in the direction of Bilbo and the light hoping that your brother hadn’t found himself in any trouble. When you finally reached the light, you quickly came to realise that it was a fire and the wretched smell of flesh and cooked meat filled your nose. You scrunched up your nose and almost gagged. You would have gagged if it wasn’t for Thorin placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking his head, looking at you with a distasteful look. You nodded your head in acknowledgement before turning your attention back to the fire. It was then that you noticed three large figures hunched in the corner, trying to be out of sight while a sack lay on the floor near the fire with Bilbo’s head poking out. You knew these large figures to be mountain trolls and before you could warn the dwarves of their presence, they had all jumped out. One by one, they were all placed inside sacks and discarded to the side by the fire leaving you on your own in the bushes. You panicked as you watched the dwarves, and your brother, be inspected by the trolls as they muttered amongst themselves about the best way to cook them. With a shaky breath you stepped out of the bushes, the rustling of the leaves catching the attention of the trolls. 

“Now now now. What do we have ‘ere?” One of the trolls spoke, bending his head down to look at you. 

You felt your eyes widen and your body tense up under its gaze. Quickly, you lifted your hands up in a show of defeat and began talking. “You can’t cook them like that!” You said shakily, trying your best to sound as calm as possible.

“Oh? And why not?” Another troll spoke up. 

“Yeah, why not? We’re hungry!” The last one retorted, picking its nose. 

“I’m a good cook you know,” you said, looking at the dwarves. Their eyes showed confusion at what you were trying to do. 

“You can’t reason with them!” Dwalin shouted. “They’re halfwits!” 

“I’m just saying you can’t cook them like that,” you said. You were trying your best to think of a way out of this situation unscathed, that your adventure wouldn’t come to an end in the stomach of a mountain troll, when you saw a grey figure in the bushes… Gandalf. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that you were going to be okay when one of the trolls poked your shoulder with its large finger in an attempt to get you to continue talking. “I wouldn’t cook them at all, actually. Dwarves are known to have a rancid taste…” 

“You expect us to just let ‘em go?” The first troll spoke. 

“Well–” Bilbo started but the first troll turned to face him, flicking him harshly in the stomach and winding your brother.

“I think we’ll take our chances. We’re hungry and are sick of mutton!” The first troll exclaimed. 

“Yeah. Hungry we are!” 

Just as you were about to speak, to open your mouth and say something about mutton not being the worst thing in Middle-Earth to eat, Gandalf stood on a rock, his staff held high in the air as his voice boomed. “Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” He slammed his staff down on the rock splitting it in half, the sunlight beaming through the cracks and turning the three mountain trolls to stone. You hadn’t even realised that it was almost daybreak, but you were thankful that luck was on your side… and that Gandalf had arrived when he did. 

You quickly ran to Bilbo’s side, helping him out of the sack before turning to help the dwarves. When you reached Thorin, he looked at you with eyes of confusion and yet said nothing. You helped him out of his sack and offered your hand to help him up but he simply ignored your kindhearted gesture and stood up on his own. “We almost died!” Kili exclaimed, resting against a tree and wiping some sweat from his brow. 

“Aye, we did.” 

“And if it wasn’t for Y/N’s quick thinking, you’d all be dead by now,” Gandalf explained, looking at Thorin and nodding slightly. “But where there are trolls, there must be a cave. Come, we must search for it.”  

You nodded your head and followed Gandalf, seemingly searching for the cave entrance. As you walked, the majority of the dwarves patted your shoulder and muttered a ‘thank you’ as they walked by; however, when Thorin walked by, he remained silent, his eyes fixed forward on the task at hand. Bilbo trodded up alongside you and smiled. “How did you know Gandalf was going to turn up?” He asked, his eyes scanning the cliffside for the entrance. 

“I didn’t,” you respond honestly, smiling awkwardly at your brother. “I’m just glad he did because… I didn’t have a plan to get you out of that.” 

You heard Thorin scoff at your comment, clearly listening in on your conversation and your eyebrows furrowed in response. You hadn’t the idea what his problem was: maybe it was just because you and Bilbo were Hobbits and not dwarves. Maybe one day, you’d find out.

[floral-and-fine]

Seen by the Heart

Bofur x hobbit fem reader

A/n: Some of the fluffiest fluff I have probably ever written

Summary: As the journey to Erebor is reaching its end, Bofur struggles with how to tell the reader that he cares for her.

Bofur sighed as he saw y/n standing on the shore shivering. The rest of the company were so focused on what to do next or peeling off their own layers of sopping wet clothes that she was just left behind looking anxious. He desperately wished he had something dry to offer her, a blanket, a coat, a handkerchief, anything really, but he was just as soaked as her.

He knew exactly what was troubling her just by the look on her face; a decent lady such as herself would never strip out of her outer layers and down to her undergarments in front of the company, no matter how cold or wet she was.

Although that didn’t stop any of them from taking off their clothes in front of a woman, actually now that he was thinking about it, the company was as crass and crude as usual, almost as if Bofur was the only one who was very much aware that there was a lady in their presence the entire journey.

Bofur approached her, a kind and caring smile on his face. “You alright lass?”

“Fine,” she lied, trying to return his friendly smile. Her arms tightened around her body as she continued to try to warm up. No doubt all those skirt layers were freezing and weighing her down.

He looked her in the eye, her gaze wide and vulnerable despite the smile on her lips. The poor dear was so worried about being burdensome, that she’d never complained about how cold she felt, or how tired she was, or how desperate she was for some privacy.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. “There are some tall rocks over this way.”

Her expression changed immediately, her smile finally reaching her eyes, reflecting just how utterly grateful she was that he understood her.

Bofur led her away from the group, the cluster of rocks were perfect, y/n went to go behind them but as Bofur tried to leave she stopped him. Her small hand gripped his. He tilted his head, but didn’t need to ask, the way she was shyly looking at her feet then back at him was enough for him to know that she wanted him to stay close.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay right over here and keep watch.”

It was funny how easily Bofur understood her, all she had to do was just look at him and he knew what she was thinking or feeling. To him, her eyes were just so expressive, that even when she’d tried to hide it, he could still see what she was really feeling anyway; making it pretty much pointless for her to keep anything from him, like she did with the others.

He listened as she shuffled about, hurriedly taking off the outer layers of her dress and wringing out as much water as possible.

Hobbits really were deceptively quiet, light footed, and discreet, most of the company almost seemed to forget about Bilbo and y/n.

Bilbo literally seemed to vanish and reappear so often that Bofur had become extra vigilant when it came to y/n, worried that she’d get left behind or overlooked by the rest of the company.

In fact, Bofur hadn't really thought it through when they were escaping from the elves, when he saw the number of barrels and noted that they were one short, he simply just offered his hand to y/n as he selected one for both of them to climb into.

It was a cozy fit, but he wouldn’t deny how right it felt to have her arms around his waist and her head buried against his chest. He wouldn’t mind doing it all over again just to feel her so close and the way she squeezed him tighter as the river jerked them this way and that way.

Looking back, that hadn’t even been the first time he had done something like that during this journey.

When they were captured by the goblins he stood in front of her wanting to do his best to protect her from the wretched creatures. Then after, when they were being chased by Beorn, he ran behind her to insure that she wouldn’t fall behind the group.

Gazing out to the horizon, he knew that the end of their journey was near. No doubt, the lass was ready to return home, which meant his time with her was numbered. From the heaviness he felt in his gut, he knew there was no way he could continue to deny his feelings for her.

The problem was whether or not he should let her know and if he did would any good come of it. Would she return his feelings? And if so, would she be willing to give up her life in the Shire to stay with him? Or could he give up on making Erebor his home to stay beside her?

His brow softened and a smile formed on his face as she gently tugged on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention. Looking back at her, he could see how grateful she was by the look in her eyes.

“Thank you, Bofur.”

“Think nothing of it, lass.”

…

Bofur had mixed feelings about being back in the barrel, on one hand he was close to y/n again, but on the other, there was a pile of fish on top of the both of them making the experience much less pleasant. The sweet hobbit also wasn’t happy about the fish, she physically cringed and tensed, curling further into Bofur as she tried to put some distance between her and the dead fish.

“Ew,” she whined quietly.

He wanted to chuckle, crack a couple of jokes about it all to lighten the mood but that could end up jeopardizing it all. So, he kept his mouth shut, instead choosing to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Bofur could feel the boat rock as it came to a stop, arriving at Laketown, the final stop before reaching the Lonely Mountain and perhaps his last chance to tell her.

He thought about all the things he’d miss about her, like the way she always clapped after one of his little songs or dances, how she laughed at all his jokes, and how she’d fix his hat any time it was crooked. He loved how she’d try to keep him company when it was his turn to keep watch only to fall asleep against his shoulder after a few minutes or how she’d tug one of his braids playfully when trying to get his attention.

Honestly, Bofur was smitten the first time he saw her.

As he recalled, it was Kili or Fili who rushed to the door expecting their uncle when the company heard the knock on Bilbo’s door, only to find a sweet hobbit waiting outside with a basket full of pastries instead.

Bofur couldn’t quite remember who took the basket from her hands and began helping themselves to the scones, but it was probably safe to assume that it was Bombur.

What Bofur could remember best, however, was how he wrapped his fingers around the hobbit’s wrist and pulled her in, inviting her to join the fun. She looked up at him with big eyes and a shy smile that had his heart racing.

In fact, his heart hadn’t stopped racing, he wondered if she could hear right now how his rapidly his heart was beating while he held her close in this barrel.

…

After the harrowing experience of sneaking into Bard’s home, that surely everyone involved wanted to forget, there was a moment of respite.

The rest of the company was quick to start demanding weapons and equipment from Bard, but Bofur instead found himself watching y/n.

He watched as Bard’s daughters eagerly helped her, pulling out old dresses and clothes to see what would fit her small stature best. He smiled to himself when he saw the way y/n’s eyes lit up, thrilled over the clean clothing being offered.

The girls then led her away for a brief moment, so she could change in privacy. She re-emerged looking as lovely as ever, donning a dress similar to what the oldest daughter was wearing.

The youngest of the girls ran off to fetch a brush after y/n agreed to let her fix her hair.

“Sigrid never lets me help her with her hair,” Tilda stated, standing behind y/n. The young girl patiently began detangling y/n’s hair with her fingers first in order to undo some of the larger knots.

“Your hair is so soft,” Tilda complimented, now brushing the rest of y/n’s hair. “Do all halflings have such soft hair?”

Bofur felt a twinge of jealousy as the girl braided sections of y/n’s hair, before tying it back in a simple bun. Part of him hoped that soon he’d have the same opportunity, braiding her hair would then make it official to all the other dwarves that y/n was his one.

His jealousy quickly melted away when the girl finally finished and he saw how happy y/n was. He’d do anything if it meant making her happy.

…

After their failed attempt to sneak out of Laketown and continue their journey to the Lonely Mountain. Bofur and rest of the Company found themselves busy enjoying the food and drink provided by the Master, thanks to Thorin’s promises of sharing the wealth from the halls of Erebor.

It was late into the night now and Bofur still wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say, but he was determined to let her know how he felt before they left in the morning.

He finished the rest of his pint, hoping it would help him find the courage to tell her. He licked his lips, staring at the back of her head for a moment. She looked lost in thought, making him hesitate, worried that he’d be disturbing her, but he’d take any excuse, or even make one up, if it meant he could continue putting this off.

Taking a deep breath, he stumbled over to y/n, who fortunately was alone and apart from the group.

In his head, he quickly rehearsed what he’d like to say, ‘Lass, our journey is almost over and before I lose my chance, I just wanted to say that I’ve really come to care for you, everything else we can figure out later.’

Then, hopefully, she’d say something that would indicate that she felt the same way, and the rest would fall into place.

He cleared his throat, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she turned around to face him. She looked as though she was glowing, radiating warmth and tenderness. He opened his mouth to speak but words failed him, instead all he could do was look longingly into her eyes.

Her brows furrowed as Bofur stared at her silently. She recognized this expression of his, he’d often look at her like this from afar when he thought no one else was watching and he’d hastily turn away when her eyes would meet his. It was a look of complete adoration.

Y/n felt like a fool for not understanding what it meant sooner. Probably because it was so hard to believe that an outgoing and handsome dwarf like Bofur would have any interest in a shy little hobbit like herself.

She brought a hand up to his face, her palm settling against his cheek, and a beautiful smile formed on her lips. His deep brown eyes didn’t waver from hers, revealing how vulnerable and sincere he was in this very moment, despite not being able to actually tell her.

“I love you,” she whispered quickly before losing her nerve. Immediately after the words left her mouth, her gaze shifted to her feet and her hands nervously clutched her skirts.

It took a second for her words to sink in, but finally Bofur’s lips turned upward in a goofy smile. “Really?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, feeling rather flustered after her bold declaration.

The elation he felt was liberating, like all his worries had disappeared, simply because he knew that she loved him.

Bofur cupped both sides of her face in his larger hands and angled her head up to face him. His grin grew at the sight of her timid expression, especially considering that she had just acted far more fearlessly than himself.

He rested his forehead against hers, lovingly caressing the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs, as he just continued to admire her.

Y/n bit her bottom lip and nervously rubbed one of her feet on top of the other as a few minutes went by. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Bofur blinked in surprise. “Well aren’t you being mighty bold this evening?” He teased, but promptly leaned forward with his head tilted.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut when she first felt the tickle of his moustache then the soft touch of his lips pressing against hers. Her hands letting go of her skirt, found their way to his chest.

He held her head more firmly as deepened the kiss, smiling against her lips when he felt her knees buckle and her fingers tighten their grip on him.

Bofur sighed as they parted, his thumb tracing over her bottom lip. He couldn’t wait to make a home with her, wherever that might be, their journey was just beginning.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

QUALIFYING ROUND: 57th Tilt

Bilbo Baggins, The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014) VS. Prince Chauncley, Miracle Workers: The Dark Ages (2020)

Propaganda

Bilbo Baggins, The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014)

Portrayed by: Martin Freeman

“He is the most relatable man to ever exist, and that's hot. He likes tea and handkerchiefs and archaic-maybe-evil-jewelry. Introverted braincell with bravery and a soft spot for crazy old wizards. And dwarves. And-“

Prince Chauncley, Miracle Workers: The Dark Ages (2020)

Portrayed by: Daniel Radcliffe

“How can you not love a prince played by Tony-winning mensch Daniel Radcliffe?? Chauncley is also such a sweetie, even if he can be air headed at times. Plus his romance with Geraldine Viswanathan's character is very cute.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Bilbo Baggins:

For Prince Chauncley:

[the-sewerrats]

Yeah yeah hot and confident Thorin is great, big fan BUT ALSO

Thorin just being an absolute loser, no confidence, pathetic guy who’s spent his whole life moping and then suddenly he finds the love of his life. And Bilbo seems like a loser with all his fancy handkerchiefs and letter opener sword, but he’s actually so witty and has a charisma of like +4 who can say goodbye as an insult and somehow gets a dragon to talk to him cuz he’s polite.

I just think they’re so perfect for each other and I love this dynamic.

[fili-urzudel]

Wildflower Ch. 1 - The Beginning

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1 k

Dear Reader:

The following events have been amalgamated from multiple sources and translated to a language you can understand to the best of our ability. We can only approximate the exact gestures, actions, and emotions of the characters involved, but hope we have done them justice. Songs have been the most heavily changed to make them more lyrical in your preferred language. However, the sentiment remains the same.

Thank you, and enjoy.

The sun rose earlier than expected, and Kíli thought it made the Shire look rather nice. The rolling green hills and wide dirt paths were no match for Ered Luin’s sharp peaks and impressive bridges, of course, but they were nice all the same. 

“Ye cannae stare at the dew all day,” Dwalin said gruffly, almost running into him as he exited the Hobbit hole, hauling yet another bag of garbage from the Baggins home.

“I know, I was just coming out to help you,” he smiled easily, and Dwalin huffed in reply. 

“Gettin’ the ponies ready is a bit more pertinent.”

“Ah, I see we’ve brought out the advanced vocabulary this morning.”

Dwalin shot him a look that could kill, and if his hands were free, he might have tried.

“Kíli,” a deep voice warned from around the bend.

“I was getting to it!” Kíli exclaimed quickly. “Where’s Fíli, anyway? He’s supposed to be helping me with this.”

“Your brother is writing a letter to his dear wife to let her know he’s safe,” Balin said, already standing by the ponies, loading maps and parchments into his saddlebags. 

“Oh,” he said simply. Normally, he would stick his tongue out or something of the sort, but he was rather concerned about his sister-in-law as well. 

Thorin nodded gratefully in Balin’s direction—he always seemed to know how to get the two of them under control, much better than he could, anyway.

The company was underway just before daybreak, and Kíli found himself squinting against the sun as they left. 

The morning was too quiet. 

“Anyone care to make a bet or two?”

* * *

“Wait! Wait!” The cry came from behind them. One by one, the dwarves reigned in their ponies, turning to see the aforementioned potential burglar running up to them rather comically, waving the contract as he did. “I signed it!”

Kíli smiled broadly—he had won his bets. He had seen a peculiar look in the Hobbit’s eye. That, and Gandalf betted that Bilbo would come to his senses. The young prince figured it would be pure foolishness to bet against a wizard.

Balin glanced at the Hobbit skeptically as he pulled out his reading glass, carefully inspecting the paper.  “Everything appears to be in order; welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

The company cheered; they had a burglar! Maybe not a very good one, but at any rate, a burglar. After a small fuss concerning the use of ponies as their primary mode of transportation, they were once again on their way, now a company of fourteen.

“Stop! Stop! We have to turn around!” Bilbo’s calls did indeed cause the company to halt.

Kíli could see the look on his uncle’s face without looking at him; he had seen the man exasperated often enough, and he was beginning to feel the same way.

“What on earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked before either of them had the opportunity to.

“I forgot my handkerchief,” Bilbo complained.

“Here!” Bofur called helpfully, tearing off a portion of his rather soiled outer coat. “Use this!’

“Bilbo?” At the call, the entire procession stopped in their laughter, turning to see another Hobbit coming up to their trail.

Kíli immediately noticed something different about the Hobbit, not in her appearance—though, that may have been a factor—no, but rather in the effect she had on him. She was beautiful in a way he had difficulty explaining: her hair long and fastened back with several clips, save for the curls on her forehead; her long, pale green skirt and loose white blouse; her blue eyes that shone in the sunlight.

“Where are you going? Who are these people?” Kíli was jerked out of his reverie by the question, momentarily panicking as though it was he who was expected to answer.

“Who is this?” Thorin grunted, and the Hobbit simply glanced at him curiously before returning her gaze to Bilbo.

Kíli wished her eyes had not simply flicked over him.

“Oh, um, gentlemen, this is May Bramble, my cousin, who happens to live just west of this path we're using,” Bilbo explained, his hand awkwardly fiddling with the reins of his newly acquired pony.

At Gandalf's lightly confused expression, May chuckled. “It's very distant, but, somehow, we're both Tooks. One more than the other.”

The wizard nodded thoughtfully and went back to his pipe.

The dwarves gave each other looks of barely disguised humor—these Hobbits and their family trees!

“A bit far out of town, is it not?” Thorin asked, eyeing the maiden with a kernel of suspicion.

“My great-great-grandfather was one of the more... eccentric Hobbits of his generation,” she answered seriously. “He thought it better to rely more on the land, as our ancestors had, and it has served us well. Now, Bilbo, are you going to answer my question or not?”

Before Bilbo could answer, Gandalf took it upon himself to explain the journey, and its reasoning, despite Thorin's protests—“We do not need everyone in the Shire knowing our business!”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brow seriously. “That sounds... very noble. And exciting.”

Thorin stared at her, hoping that would be the end of it and they could be on their way.

“Would you mind the addition of another to your company?”

“We don't need any dead weight,” Thorin said bluntly. “This is hardly a jolly quest.”

“We could use an extra pair of hands, always,” Kíli argued, and Thorin raised a brow at him. “And I hardly think she's so eager to join this company for gold when no payment has been offered.”

“No, no, I would never assume that I was entitled to any of your gold,” she shook her head quickly. “I'm only joining for the adventure.” She smiled at Kíli, a bright grin that was easily returned.

“And we do have an extra pony,” Fíli pointed out, seeing the look on his brother's face. It was certainly one he had not quite seen before.

“Have both of you gone mad? We cannot—”

“Let her come!” Gandalf interrupted. “I have a wizard's intuition about this one.” He gave a not-so-subtle wink in her direction.

Thorin spared her another glance.

“Fine. But we will not be waiting; we've wasted enough daylight as it is.”

May jumped excitedly, running back to her front door and grabbing a large leather bag before jogging back to the company that had indeed already begun to move on. 

“Here’s a pony, lass,” a red-haired dwarf offered kindly. 

“I’ve always wanted to ride one,” she cheered, quickly moving to ride sidesaddle. 

“Did you just… have a bag of your things ready for a journey like this?” Bilbo asked as she rode alongside him. 

“Did you not?” Her quick response was followed by the brightest laugh Kíli had ever heard. 

He was in trouble.