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vintagedaydreams · 4 years ago

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The Story That Never Ends (Part ONE-The Hobbit)

Alright, people! I have an absolutely freakin’ awesome person that is going to be collaborating with me on this Never-Ending Story. Give it up for @ramblingwritings who is awesome enough to be with me on this out of control wagon! This is just the first part of The Hobbit section– I am working on the other half and will have that updated soon! Once that happens, the next fandom install can be written and uploaded. 😊

This is going to be the story that jumps from Fandom to Fandom as the Reader dies in each. SO, it will be long and probably never really finished. Who knows. There are so many Fandoms to do this with!!

Enjoy!

(If you have a Fandom you’d like to see in it, feel free to drop a line! We have a list going already. But beware, you may be roped into writing some of it if neither of us are familiar with that Fandom! LOL)

Warnings: language, some violence/disturbing imagery (battle, wounds, etc), fantasy (is that an actual warning at this point?)

So without further ado…

@kettnerjanea

You were born as you, a human, lived in present time and had knowledge of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

You liked all the races, Elf, Man and Dwarf – and sometimes Wizard – but you had really fallen in love with all of the Company of Dwarves during The Hobbit storyline. One in particular!

You had been on your way home from a friend’s house where you had all binge-watched the movies, when a drunk driver hit you. You laid there, broken and bleeding and in so much blinding pain you were sobbing, before you felt darkness finally take you.

You jerked awake, a cry of pain on your lips, but saw that you were in a bed and a room that looked familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.

A dream. You just had a bad dream.

Then you heard voices coming from somewhere else in the house and you swung your legs out from under the covers to get up and saw…hairy feet?!

And then, two sets of memories came hurling at you.

Your life as you remembered: your job, your family, your friends, your slight Tolkien obsession, the walk home, the pain…

And then another set: your life as a Took, running wild with other fauntlings, climbing trees and having adventures, being thicker than thieves with one cousin of yours in particular – Bilbo, your second set of memories helpfully supplied, while the other side of your brain was floundering at the implications.

What was going on?!

And then you were bombarded by a male Hobbit – a Hobbit! – one set of your memories recognized as your Took father and you were bid to hurry up, your coming of age birthday party was that day and there was so much to do!

As you got ready on auto-pilot, you sifted through your memories and yep, you had the last 33 years all there as your life as Juniper Took.

Boy was that going to take some getting used to. No one seemed to be acting any different towards you, but you were definitely out of sorts which thankfully your family chalked up to your excitement of being of Age and able to go and do whatever with no one to ask permission of.

Uh, yeah, that was great too – considering that you’d felt that way long before you became a Hobbit. Thank goodness you “woke up” when you were of Age and not too long before!

And thank goodness you were a Took! That alone could explain away a lot of your oddities you were sure were going to pop up with double memories and the ridiculous amount of confusion you were feeling.

When Bilbo showed up at your party, himself a few years older than you, you were sad to say that you inner fangirled and actually had your favorite Hobbit worried and wondering what on Middle Earth was wrong with you.

You promised to visit him the next day and spent the rest of the party just listening to the instincts and memories of your Took self to not draw too much more attention to yourself. (Thank goodness the Juniper before you got two sets of memories already picked out all the presents for the Hobbits there. You wouldn’t know where to begin as confused as you were now.)

You wanted to listen to your Took side and fully embrace being Juniper Took, but how could you when you could still remember all of your life as a human? And you felt as if you’d been plucked from your life as a human to being thrust into being a Hobbit and how could you just…forget all of who you were and become a Took fully?

You’d lived through your life as human, but you only had memories of living through your life as Juniper Took. Didn’t that mean you were Y/N first and Juniper second?

You’d given yourself a mega headache by the time the party was over and even though you didn’t sleep at all, you were knocking on Bilbo’s door bright and early, worked up into a horrible state – even though your Tookish side was warning you that it was far too early for any Hobbits to be up after the late hour of the party last night.

Bilbo had blearily opened the door, though both sides of you were pleased to see that his tiredness vanished in the wake of your -probably awful- appearance.

He’d invited you in, got breakfast started and then…then you’d broken down.

“Bilbo, I think I am…crazy.”

The proper Baggins’ blinked at you from the kitchen counter where he was slicing up tomatoes. “Juniper,” he snarked, and you flinched at the unfamiliar name, though he missed it when he looked back down at his counter, “all Tooks are crazy. You’ve known that since you were born – and the whole Shire is aware of it as well.”

Apparently, he was expecting some snarky remark – at least that part of your personality remained the same – but when none came, he looked back up at you.

“Juniper?” he asked and this time, he didn’t miss the flinch you gave. Suddenly, he was standing right beside your chair at the table.

“What is it? Why do you think you’re crazy? What happened?”

You looked up into warm, worried amber eyes and felt tears gather in your own.

“Does this have anything to do with how…odd you were acting yesterday?”

You nodded miserably, finding your gaze landing on the dress you were wearing. Catching sight of your large, furry – furry! – feet you felt a few tears fall down your face.

Who were you now? Not fully Juniper, but certainly not Y/N anymore. You really couldn’t fit in anywhere! Not with two sets of memories, one feeling more real than the other Tolkien one.

“Bilbo…I…” You heaved a sigh. “Perhaps it’s best if we just forget about it.” You didn’t need your close cousin, or one of your favorite characters, to shun you now. The rest of the Shire was only loosely mentioned in the books and movies – Bilbo was the only real tie to the life you knew before at this point!

“Jun—listen here, Favorite Cousin,” Bilbo said firmly, cutting off the use of your Hobbit name when you winced and changing it to the title you’d both bestowed on each other as young fauntlings years ago, “I can see that something is wrong. I’ve been worried since last night, though I thought maybe it was just you finally getting your freedom. But that obviously isn’t it. So tell me: what is it? What is going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and found both sides of your mind not able to help trusting the warm, gentle Hobbit beside you.

So you told him everything. It took all day and many meals, but you unloaded all of your past life, your present fears and how lost you felt at the moment.

Bilbo had responded by quizzing you on past memories you had of the both of you and you passed with flying colors. Though he looked just as heartbroken as you when you admitted, with a sob, that while you had the memories, you didn’t remember doing them. It was like watching a movie of someone else’s life, just with a lot more detail.

And then, you had to explain what exactly a movie was, which actually made Bilbo believe what you thought as a crazy story.

But then, no Hobbit, Took or otherwise, was able to come up with such things as the life and the technology you described from your…past life.

The thought of your past life made you start crying all over again.

You’d lost your friends, your family, your life, both figuratively and literally.

Bilbo seemed properly appalled for you and had done his best to comfort you.

And he really was good at that.

It wasn’t until you began to tell him that you…well, you knew what was going to happen, that he seemed to be a little less believing.

At first.

“Wait. What do you mean I am going to leave the Shire and travel with a company of Dwarves? Dwarves! And I’m going to go willingly and do what to a dragon?!”

You gave a slight giggle, swinging your now somewhat beloved furred feet as you both sat in the much more comfortable chairs in front of Bilbo’s fireplace.

“Exactly what I said, Bilbo,” you smiled, taking another sip of the delicious tea your cousin always had on hand. (That was one thing you were quite content to embrace about being a Hobbit – the seven meals a day thing was glorious.) “You meet Gandalf the Grey, or…re-meet him I guess?, then the Dwarves and agree to go on their Quest with them. It is an amazing adventure for you. I think…well, I don’t think you’d be complete without it to be honest.”

Bilbo just stared at you, mouth agape before he suddenly hummed and leaned back further into his chair.

“Alright. Say that…say that I believe you, Juniper.” Your flinch was much less pronounced now, though Bilbo still paused.

“There was another name you went by in your…other life, wasn’t there?” the observant Hobbit asked gently, and you found yourself sniffling a bit.

“Yes. But…I’m not that person anymore, apparently.”

“I think you are,” Bilbo said quietly after a moment. “You’re just as much her as you are Juniper. Maybe even more so. You said yourself that you had memories of us throughout the years, memories of your life here, but no memory of actually doing it. But…you remember doing all those things you told me of in your life as a Man, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. It feels…wrong to just embrace Jun-Juniper so readily when I don’t really feel that I am her. Regardless of how I look or where I am.”

There was silence before Bilbo suddenly jumped out of his chair, startling you.

“So! What do I call you?”

You looked at him in confusion, but before you could open your mouth he continued, “Your name in your other world. What was it?”

“Y/N,” you said after a hesitant moment. “It was Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well, I don’t think we could get away with calling you by your last name here, not with you being a Took all this time in everyone else’s memories, but I could definitely call you Y/N. No one would blink at a new name, we’ve certainly called each other all sorts of names throughout the years. This would just be another of our oddities.”

The Hobbit before you suddenly swept into a deep, polite bow. “A pleasure you meet you, Y/N. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

No matter what your Took side said, though it didn’t put up really any protest at all, you flung yourself out of the chair and into Bilbo’s arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you practically sobbed, the sound of your own name the only grounding thing you had here.

Bilbo had sent a letter to your family and had invited you to stay with him for awhile. No one questioned it – everyone in the entire Shire knew of the Took and the Baggins who had made a right nuisance of themselves since they met when you were born.

And wasn’t that an odd thing to think of? Bilbo was older than you but you knew about a lot of his life that not only had happened but that was going to happen.

An evil thought crossed your mind. Perhaps… a little event changing would not be too amiss on the adventure you were going to wiggle your way into with the Company? By your calculations, you still had quite a bit of time left – Bilbo was only a few years older than yourself – a respectable forty to your newly christened thirty-three.

If the Company wasn’t supposed to come until Bilbo was fifty…well, that gave you ten years to try and make your gentle Hobbit a bit more burglar and less ‘grocer’. And if Thorin could find it in himself not to be a dick straight away, well, it’d make your job all the easier. Why couldn’t Bilbo stay in Erober? Why couldn’t the Thorin line survive the Battle of the Five Armies?

Besides, you’d been thrown into this Juniper Took’s body for a reason. And even though you didn’t remember Bilbo being close to really anyone other than the Gamgees in the book and movie, you and him obviously were still close, even before you got another set of memories.

So, if you were thrown here and were already this close to the main character, might as well change a few things up, right?

Right.

-----

It only took you two months to not only grow as close to Bilbo as you had been before you’d added more memories, but also to convince him that an adventure right now, when you weren’t on a time frame, was a really good idea.

You’d needed someone to confide in so much, you’d brought Bilbo into your confidence about everything. Minus your more radical plot changing ideas. It’d be better if he came to the conclusion to stay in Erober on his own.

But he now knew every detail of not only the Company, but the Lord of the Rings storyline too. And he was not thrilled about his coming nephew in the line of fire and danger if he could help it.

He’d agreed that once Erebor was retaken in a decade and some change, he’d help destroy the Ring he was going to pick up along the way.

You’d been adamant that some things had to happen, some bad things. Otherwise, if the Company wasn’t attacked by goblins, how was he supposed to find the Ring Gollum had?

(You’d also wrangled a promise out of Bilbo that he was take you with him, contract be damned, when the time came.)

But for the moment, you were off to see the Elves in Rivendell, as it was the closest.

You had a plan. One that you obviously told Bilbo about as well.

If you two could travel a bit, befriend at least some of the elves, men, what have you, that you’d meet up with on the way to the mountain, maybe the journey would be easier is some spots. Not just for Bilbo, (and yourself), but for the poor Dwarves who had been driven out of their home for decades now.

Bilbo had been almost beside himself hearing about the plight of the Dwarves and their lost home. You’d practically had to hold him back from leaving for the Blue Mountains to find this soon-to-be-king Thorin and start early.

You managed to talk him into not doing that, since it’d screw everything up. No, best to just familiarize yourselves with at least part of the journey’s roads and meet some hopefully helpful characters beforehand.

Though befriending Elves wouldn’t endear either of you to the Dwarves, especially Thorin, but…well, they were Elves and Bilbo was over the moon. Once you’d mentioned Elves, well, it was all you could do to make sure you both actually gathered supplies for the journey, rather than just run out the door.

If you knew that Bilbo’s excitement for the Elves would be this bad, (and you should’ve), you would’ve mentioned Elves two months ago.

Honestly – who was supposed to be the elder of you two? You or him?

You finally got everything situated and had only just left the Shire when who should you both come across but Gandalf the Grey.

His timing really was uncanny at times.

“Bilbo Baggins and Y/N Took. I should have known.”

You and your cousin, (that still took a little getting used to), just gaped at the older, wizened man.

“What….oh! You must be Gandalf then?” Bilbo asked first, (since he didn’t remember him at all from meeting him so long ago), while your brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that the wizard had called you Y/N, not Juniper.

Bilbo cottoned on to that too, because his brow furrowed and he leaned over the pony he was somewhat successfully riding to mutter to you, “That is a little creepy. Like you said. Does he know everything?”

“I am honored that I have been spoken about,” Gandalf cut in, eyes twinkling. “And no. Alas, I do not know everything, but in this case, I think, I may know just enough.”

You were aware you were an odd sight, a female Hobbit, Took or no, astride a pony in breeches and a blouse and vest, and gaping quite unattractively at the wizard.

But…he’d called you by your real name!

Well, it definitely made things easier if he already knew everything. There were still things you had probably forgotten to tell Bilbo – it was hard to remember every little thing between four books, six movies and all the years of your previous life. Not to mention the thousands of fanfictions.

Yes, there was probably something you had forgotten to pass on – Gandalf knowing everything already would be so much easier.

“Off to see the Elves?” Gandalf asked from his own horse and you and Bilbo both grimaced.

“Yes,” you muttered after a moment, “that is creepy.”

The wizard laughed.

“And yet, you know more than I about events about to unfold.”

“Yes, but I have a good excuse,” you said somewhat petulantly. “And I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen in the next ten years. Only when the Company arrives. Before that I’m just as lost as everyone else.”

“Then this will be good for the both of you,” Gandalf decided with another eye twinkle. He really was starting to remind you of Dumbledoore. Huh. Dying and ending up in the Harry Potter world would have been fun too.

“Perhaps you would allow a lonely old man to accompany you on your travels. It has been some time since I’ve seen my old friends in Imladris.”

You and Bilbo exchanged another glance and then you both shrugged in tandem. The past few months, you had been speaking with Bilbo not only about your life as human you and the story of what was to come, but also more in depth about the memories you had as Juniper.

You had never felt closer to anyone than you did you Bilbo. And, he’d told you one night, he felt closer to you now than he did when you were just Juniper with only Juniper’s memories.

Cousins, nothing. You and Bilbo acted like twins, despite the age difference.

“Sure, Gandalf,” you said with a grin, “we’d love the company. Might as well get to know you well know, yes?”

You three started off again and then Gandalf cast you a sidelong look.

“I assume you’ll be joining the Company then in a few years’ time?”

You gave as innocent a grin as you could with Took blood, “What on earth would make you think that?”

Gandalf chuckled yet again.

“Two burglars for the price of one. I think Oakenshield will find that acceptable.”

Gandalf’s eyes widened a bit when Bilbo didn’t react at all – no questions, no concerns, just a placid smile.

“He knows all about the Company and the…Adventure then?”

You gave a grin, not even bothering with trying to be Innocent. “Yup! Gandalf, I can’t keep secrets from my brother!”

“Cousin,” Gandalf corrected, though it was more a question and you felt something warm unfurl in your chest when Bilbo spoke up, “Brother.”

The three of you traveled slow and sedate, giving Bilbo, (and yourself), much needed practice on the ponies. It wouldn’t do for the Company to see you as burdens right off the bat. Better to lull them into a false sense of security first.

Gandalf was ridiculously helpful once he realized that you and Bilbo both planned to help the Company as much as possible.

You didn’t tell Gandalf all, but just enough for him to understand that the Dwarves were going to have a hard journey. But that you and Bilbo were determined to spend the next ten years trying to smooth the way as much as possible and learn as much as you could to actually be helpful. Right from the start.

Arriving in Rivendell was amazing for both you and Bilbo. While you had seen it in the movies, it was so much more magical and breathtaking in person.

Bilbo wasn’t fairing any better, being in absolute awe himself.

Lord Elrond came and greeted you by your human name as well and you gaped, once again, unattractively at the Elf lord.

Gandalf knowing made sense but how did – then you remembered Elrond’s gift of foresight.

“You saw me coming!” you pretty much accused the Elf lord, much to Bilbo consternation and Gandalf’s amusement.

“I did, Lady Y/N,” Elrond affirmed, his own amusement shining through. “Myself, as well as Lady Galadriel, saw what would happen to you in your own world and how you would come to be here in ours. I must say, you have shown remarkable adjustment to the situation. And much quicker than we had imagined.”

You flushed, but sent a very thankful, meaningful look to Bilbo.

“If it wasn’t for my brother, I wouldn’t be half as adjusted,” you murmured and gave a soft laugh as you saw Bilbo flush as well. What a pair you two were.

“Come,” Elrond said after a moment, “you are most welcome here, for as long as you wish. I have seen great things in store for the both of you.”

Bilbo looked at the Elf lord in surprise. “For the both of us?”

You snorted before Elrond could answer.

“Bilbo. I may be from another world, well…half of my mind may be from another world, but you are the main character! If anyone should be asking if we both have great things in store for us, it should be me. Not you. Besides, I already told you at least part of the great things you have in store for you.”

“Yes, Master Baggins,” Elrond said with a gentle smile, still with amusement dancing in his eyes, “great things are in store for the both of you. But before we get into any of that, you must be tired. I imagine that traveling this far, and on ponies, is different for you both. Come, let us show you to your rooms and get you settled.”

It hadn’t taken long before you and Bilbo were both settled, fed and asleep in your rooms. It had been a long journey, even though Gandalf had not been in any hurry and you had had frequent stops and rests.

The next morning at breakfast, Bilbo had laughed at how much he had appreciated a soft bed after only a week on the road. He admitted, as you agreed wholeheartedly, that it was a good thing you were both traveling now and getting used to this before the Company arrived.

Ten years sounded like a lot to the human half of your mind, but the Tookish half didn’t seen daunted. Ten years wasn’t much to a Hobbit and you had to use the next years well.

The journey to the Elves had given both you and Bilbo a yearning for more adventure and an excitement for the Company’s journey.

When Elrond suggested you stay for awhile in Rivendell to get familiar with it and its people, you and Bilbo both readily agreed.

After all, that was the point of all this traveling – to try and make the journey as easy as possible for your soon to be Dwarven companions.

“You and Bilbo are quite brave to undertake all of this extra journeying,” Elrond had said one day as he found you standing on the balcony of your room. Honorifics had been dropped the second day you were all there – mostly for your benefit. It wasn’t your fault that honorifics weren’t a thing in your world, or high in priority for the Took side of you either!

“I’m not sure brave is the best word,” you laughed, turning to the Elf lord beside you. “But I wasn’t sure I could stay in the Shire any longer. A few months was bad enough with my…confused state. And I’d been at Bilbo’s almost the entire time – we needed to get away. I couldn’t go…home.”

Because your home was worlds away.

A large hand settled gently on your shoulder.

“Galadriel and I have been watching you since before the day you awoke here in this world. You have shown remarkable bravery, Y/N. Your world is a lot different than ours and while the Took side of you is helpful in settling you here, we are aware of how torn you feel. How…unreal this body and the memories of Juniper Took are to you.”

The Elf lord paused for a few moments, though his hand did not leave you.

“I had elves ready to come to the Shire and take you here so we could help you adjust, but Galadriel had sent a message to tell me that she had foreseen your Took side’s cousin – Bilbo – helping you and becoming an invaluable companion. We were both pleased, though not shocked as we have come to know you before and after you awoke as Juniper, that you chose to use the next few years to help smooth the way for your Company. Erober is almost ready for its rightful ruler to return. It does our old hearts good to see how you and Bilbo are preparing yourself for the journey. You shall be invaluable to them.”

You blinked back tears, feeling a small piece of yourself settle. Elrond and Galadriel, they knew. Yes, Bilbo knew about your time, but only because you had told him. The two Seers knew of your time, of who you were because they had seen it. They knew you.

And it was a wonderful feeling.

You felt yourself get pulled gently into Elrond’s embrace and let loose a soft sob.

“I miss technology,” you muttered into his chest and the answering chuckle, the knowledge that Elrond knew what you were talking about without you having to explain it, made you sob just a little bit harder.

Elrond had escorted you to dinner, (seriously, best thing about being a Hobbit was the enormous capacity for food!), and then you and Bilbo had gone to the library to begin some research.

Just wandering around the whole of Middle Earth was not probable, especially with Orcs, Goblins and bugs out there, so you both needed to learn as much as you could bookwise. At least for now.

You also didn’t want Bilbo to be presumed dead, so no super long adventure yet. Hopefully, with you and Bilbo taking short adventures that turned into longer and longer adventures, Hobbiton would be used to Bilbo being gone and he wouldn’t have to chase down his silverware. (You were dying to meet Galadriel, Haldir and Thranduil, but you could be patient. …Probably.)

All of the Elves had been ridiculously nice and welcoming.

You and Bilbo had found kindred spirits in Elrond’s twin children; a bond that the majority of Rivendell looked on with good natured suspicion. You and Bilbo were terrors in your own right, but coupled with Elladan and Elrohir’s pranking…well. Rivendell was a bit livelier while you were there.

Being Elrond’s children, the twins knew of your…origins and had question after question for you. But they were also observant and kind enough to see when it pained you to speak of what you’d lost and they’d find excellent ways to distract you. (You felt kind of bad that Lindir was so traumatized so many years before the Company came, but as he seemed to have a soft spot for you Hobbits, you didn’t feel bad enough to stop.)

Both you and Elrond had felt it better that Estel not see you. At least, not at this time. He wasn’t even two decades yet, had a few more years to go, and really, you didn’t trust yourself around how adorable he was.

Being as small as you were, (and that was another thing that had taken some time to get used to!), it wasn’t hard for you to avoid the human young man. Though you couldn’t help but sneak a peak as often as you could without getting caught. You were right – he really was just too cute! Arwen was going to be one lucky lady.

You and Bilbo had been in Rivendell for almost two months when you decided that you’d need to head back to the Shire. Reminding Bilbo of the trouble he would have getting his stuff back from those who thought him dead after his trip with the Company, Bilbo quit arguing and was more than willing to head back. (He had to admit that your idea of slowly getting the Shire used to him being gone for months at a time would be beneficial in the long run.)

Gandalf accompanied you all the way to Bree and then you and Bilbo were on your own back to Hobbiton. You had already sent word to your parents that you were unofficially having adventures and now living with your honorary brother. Your parents, proud and adventurous Tooks that they were, were overjoyed that you’d come into your own adventures – and drug along a Baggins too! You secretly thought they were just thrilled he was ‘embracing’ his Took side.

“I think,” Bilbo’s voice cut you from your musings, “that we have had a very successful first two months of Adventuring.”

You gave a laugh, both of you so much more at ease on your ponies than you were when you first started. Elladan and Elrohir had been more than willing to teach you the Ways of the Pony.

“Yes, Bilbo. We did good. Very good. Those notes you took about the people and the copies of the maps in Elrond’s study – those will give us a good place to start for a game plan. Then, maybe in a month or two, we’ll head out again!”

“In a month or two?” Bilbo said, somewhat disbelieving. “I would have assumed you’d want to head out as soon as we found a good direction!”

You gave the Hobbit you seriously loved like a brother a small smile. “I’d love to, but…well, let’s ease into this just a bit. Not just for our sake but for the Shire’s. Give them a little time to get used to the fact that a proper Baggins has been corrupted by his Took relative. And a month at least will give us a solid foundation of where to go and a good rest. Neither one of us are quite used to this, Bilbo.”

The Hobbit riding beside you puffed on his pipe a few more times before nodding decisively. “Another brilliant idea, Y/N. Besides it will give me some time to see what I missed taking care of before we left last time so I can do better this next time around.”

You grinned, feeling the excitement that never truly left you, bubbling up again. Oh, to have such a willing travel partner!

You and Bilbo stayed in the Shire for exactly two months. In the beginning, you listened to your Tookish instincts and made yourself and Bilbo present all over Hobbiton. At the market, at the Green Dragon, everywhere you two could. It showed that Bilbo was still a respectable Hobbit, at least somewhat, and that you were still the wacky Took they all knew. (Even though you were more different than any of them could ever possibly know.)

After Hobbiton had gotten over your sudden disappearance and reappearance – and for such a scandalous thing as an adventure of all things! – you and Bilbo stayed in Bag End more often than not, pouring over his drawings and notes to see what the best route would be. You didn’t know every route exactly that the Company was going to take, but you did know major landmarks.

So you and Bilbo crafted a couple of routes that Company could possibly take and hit those landmarks, as well as a couple of routes the Company could take to avoid a few of those landmarks, (like the Trolls).

“I’m not 100 percent sure,” you murmured thoughtfully one day, puffing away at a pipe that Bilbo had gifted you with your first month here, “but I think that the whole journey only should take a few months. Frodo and Sam take about six months to get to Mordor to destroy the ring, and that’s with a few months stay over in Lorien and Rivendell.” You shot a grin at Bilbo. “Seems like a love of Elves is genetic.”

Bilbo snorted in amusement before turning back to the maps spread out on his dining room table.

“So, only a few months then to get to Erober for us as well?” You both looked at the maps before Bilbo suddenly looked up at you with a wide grin and sparkling eyes.

“We could potentially take the trip multiple times, on multiple routes before the Dwarves even get here!”

You blinked at the once respectable Hobbit – you had created an adventurous monster!

But…

“That is not a bad idea,” you mused thoughtfully, puffing away. Granted, it would be far too dangerous of a trek for two Hobbits by themselves, but if Gandalf, or even an Elf or two went with you…

“I wonder if Elrond would let his sons come with us. Or another Elf or two,” you continued to muse. At Bilbo’s furrowed brow, you started to point out places on the map.

“The Misty Mountains are far too dangerous for us to go on our own. And the Trolls,” you pointed to a spot marked by Rivendell, “doubly not good. Our soon to be companions are going to be a huge help, Bilbo. Alone, you and me? We’d not last more than a week. Especially not through Mirkwood.”

You gave a shudder. Giant spiders you could well do without.

Bilbo hummed in agreement and the two of you lapsed into silence.

A knock sounded on the bright green door and Bilbo huffed before he went to answer it.

“It’s not even tea time,” he grumbled as he passed you and you giggled at his surliness towards anyone the last few weeks that interrupted your planning.

You heard the door open, but nothing else. No greeting, so well wishes, no grumbling.

Feeling uneasy, you slowly crept to the doorway to the dining room so you could peak around the corner.

“Haldir!” you exclaimed, old fangirl tendencies rushing to the surface. Forgetting all propriety, (did Tooks even know what that was?), you flew passed Bilbo and collided with the Marchwarden’s legs.

Bilbo stared at you in shock, but thankfully, the Elf who’s legs you were embracing, just chuckled.

“I have never doubted my Lady’s word, however I must admit I was a bit…hesitant to believe. I’m glad to see my faith in my Lady was not unfounded. You are Y/N and you already know all about me and the Lady’s Woods, yes?”

You didn’t even let the blush that tried to work its way onto your cheeks see the light of day. So you were brash and literally just glomp attacked an Elf. Haldir. Marchwarden.

Who cared?!

“Yup!” you chirped, drawing a chuckle from Bilbo as well. “I do know you, Haldir.” You took a few steps back, getting a better look at Haldir and the small party of Elves standing a few feet behind him.

“Won’t you please come in?” Bilbo offered, taking a step back out of the doorway and grasping your sleeve to pull you with.

You went with him easily, still grinning. Sue you. You freakin’ loved Lorien’s elves. Especially this particular one.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” Haldir said smoothly, entering past you both. The few other Elves followed and you and Bilbo shared a look that would have been followed by an excited high pitched squeal if you were alone without Elven visitors.

In no time, food was prepared, Elven guests were attended to and Haldir was finally explaining what he was doing in the Shire and at Bag End, when he had never met either of you before.

“We have an audience with the Elvenking Thranduil,” Haldir began, “but do need to see Lord Elrond before we arrive in Greenwood. As we had to cross the Misty Mountains anyway to reach Imladris, my Lady Galadriel suggested we stop by and see if you both would like to accompany us. She has informed myself and my small party here as to your plan for the next few years. It is admirable. My guards and I saw no reason to not lengthen our journey by a mere few weeks to come and escort you all the way to Greenwood, should you wish it.”

Thankfully, you were not the only Hobbit gaping this time. Bilbo’s jaw was also hanging down practically to his waistcoat buttons.

The Elves said not a word while they waited for your response, but you could feel the amusement radiating from all of them.

Clearing your throat, you squeaked out, “Yes! We would be honored to accompany you.”

Bilbo finally shut his own mouth, nodding along with your statement. Honored indeed – this was perfect! Just what the two of you were needing!

Haldir bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“Excellent. We would like to get started as soon as possible; as soon as you can set your house to rights.”

“Well,” Bilbo said, throwing a grin at you, “we’ll be ready by tomorrow morning then. We’ve been preparing this house to be vacant ever since we got back a couple of months ago.”

Haldir’s eyes twinkled as he looked from you to Bilbo and back again.

“We are glad to hear it,” he murmured with a small smile.

You and Bilbo just had a few more odds and ends to tie up, both with the neighbors and around the house before you got to packing for your journey.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, the Elves had slipped in to the Shire mostly unnoticed and so you were able to let the neighbors know simply that you off again on another adventure.

This time, few brows were raised, though there were some head shakes.

For the hundredth time, you were thankful you were shoved into a Took’s family line! How boring it would be to live all your long life in such a nice, but boring place as the Shire!

The next morning, right before daybreak, the Elves, Bilbo and yourself headed off towards Rivendell once again.

The Elves had mentioned that they were on foot as they were used to it with the close, tall trees of Lorien, though they mentioned that they could get some ponies and horses at Bree, should you both prefer it.

You and Bilbo had both elected to stay on foot – as long as the Elves wouldn’t mind the slightly slower pace.

At the elegantly raised brows, you had mentioned how often the Company would have to walk. Might as well get used to it on at least part of your journey at some point!

That started off some questions from the Elves and you and Bilbo both willingly answered them all. Elves were a calm race that you both trusted implicitly to not go and try to bungle things up. It wouldn’t hurt to have them know some of the finer details, and indeed, they actually contributed quite a bit of useful information.

Along the way, they all pitched in to help you and Bilbo learn of both edible and medicinal plants. Being Hobbits, (one of you perhaps more of a true Hobbit than the other), you and Bilbo took to learning more about plants like ducks to water. Bilbo, begin a Baggins, did have more knowledge than you did as a Took, but even he learned new things along the way to Rivendell.

Your stay in Rivendell was much shorter than last time. Only two nights while Haldir met with Elrond and you and Bilbo enjoyed the Elvish comforts.

Elladan and Elrohir found you the last night you were there, having just come back from Orc hunting. You were once again on the balcony of your room, looking out over the beautiful city.

“Y/N!” they greeted in tandem, making you smile fondly. These two did remind you of the Elvish version of Fili and Kili – you were getting more and more excited to meet the Company, even though not even a year had passed yet!

“Greetings, my Twin Terrors,” you grinned as they stopped in front of you, greeting you happily.

Elladan gave you the puppy eyes as his hands rested on your shoulders and with a good natured eye-roll, you nodded.

With a wide grin, the Elf reached down and picked you up. It was a habit they had formed the last time you were here – carrying you around and manhandling you onto chairs or tables.

Unlike Bilbo, you really didn’t mind being carried or helped onto ponies, beds, tables, etc. You found yourself still thinking you were your human height more often than not, especially now that everyone you spent time with called you Y/N instead of Juniper. So extra help to get front point A to point B, especially in a ‘tall folk’ city – that was perfectly fine with you!

Placing you on his shoulders, Elladan headed out of your room and down the hall, he and Elrohir pestering you with questions about what you were doing here.

As soon as you told them, they both ground to a halt.

“You’re going to Greenwood? Across the Misty Mountains?” Elladan gasped and you flicked him in the forehead.

“Elladan,” you started, sickly sweet, “I know you’re not about to protest that I can’t do it.”

“Well…no,” the twin hedged and you flicked him again.

“And I know that you’re not implying that Haldir and his wardens can’t protect Bilbo and I—”

“Of course not!” Elladan said vehemently and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his head.

“Good!” you chirped. “I am glad to hear it.”

“However,” Elrohir cut in, “you should still be prepared.”

You looked down at him from your perch on Elladan’s shoulders.

“What? Prepared? How?”

Elrohir and Elladan shared a grin before they announced, “A weapon!”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much for both Elrond and Haldir to agree that you and Bilbo both should have some weapons.

You grinned at Bilbo’s face but causally just said, “Sting.”

Bilbo gave up his protests after that. Haldir and his wardens had already sworn to teach you as you travelled to Greenwood and it would give you all something to do while you walked that far.

Before the night was out, you and Bilbo each had weapons – Bilbo an Elven sword, (that you already claimed once he found Sting years down the road), and you with two Elven daggers.

You were actually quite excited to learn how to use them. You were not going to be useless when the Company came around! (And if there was a certain bald dwarf you had been thinking of the more you and Bilbo talked about the Company, and that same bald dwarf you wanted to show you could hold your own to, well, that was for you and you alone to know. Besides, it would be years before you saw any of the Company. By then, you’d probably forget what they all looked like with no visual reminders anywhere.)

You all left Rivendell the next morning, Bilbo up in front of the line with a few of the Elves telling him stories of Lorien, and you and Haldir more in the middle, enjoying each other’s company and silence. You were only a few hours away before Haldir finally turned to you.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly and you looked up at him with a grin.

“Yes, Haldir?”

“I noticed that in Imladris, last night, Lord Elrond’s sons seemed to…that is…,” the Elf trailed off and you frowned in thought before suddenly laughing.

“You mean they liked to carry me around? Yes, they found it incredibly amusing last time we were there a few months ago. Their favorite past time according to them.”

The Elf’s brows rose. “And that doesn’t offend you?”

You giggled – something you never did as a human. Must be a Hobbit thing.

“No,” you assured, “it doesn’t offend me at all. I am used to being much taller, you see, and especially in places made for taller folk, it’s actually quite nice to not have to walk all the way.”

You threw a glance at the back of Bilbo’s head with a grin. “Though, I think I may be one of the only Hobbits that feels that way.”

“And why, do you think, the Sons of Elrond found such delight in carrying you?” Haldir asked a moment later and you gave a shrug.

“At first, I honestly thought they were doing it be annoying,” you confessed, delighting in Haldir’s chuckle, “but…I don’t know. They just seemed to do it all the time the last few weeks were there and I guess I got used to it too.”

There was silence again for awhile before you felt a hand on your shoulder. Quizzically, you turned to look up at Haldir who was smiling down at you.

“May I?” he asked and you laughed with a nod.

You’d gotten some looks when Haldir first lifted you up, though instead of putting you on his shoulders, he carried you bridal style in his arms. Which was fine with you. It was much easier to talk and you could admit that you were still not used to traveling as much as you were.

Teasingly, you called to Bilbo to see if he wanted a ride as well, and when one of the Elves moved as if to pick him up, you all laughed at his indignant squawk.

Well, you and him did differ in a few obvious ways.

Haldir and a few of the other Elves carried you on and off and your trip to Mirkwood. You did try and walk frequently, but after all, you still had about nine years to get used to traveling. If the Elves didn’t mind carrying you, well, you wouldn’t mind being carried!

Bilbo was holding up very well. While the Elves set a decent pace, it wasn’t anything as rushed as what the Company would be doing later on, so it was easier for both you and Bilbo to get used to it.

It wasn’t until the morning after you all camped at the edge of Greenwood, while you were all packing up to enter the gloomy forest, that you approached Bilbo about being carried himself.

“Absolutely not,” he denied, curls flying with his shaking head. “I am not going to be carried like some—”

“Careful,” you sing-songed to him. “Don’t offend me now, brother.”

Bilbo fondly rolled his eyes. “I have absolutely no issue with you being carried. In fact, I think that pretty much every male you come into contact with has some desire to protect you or something and feels better about being able to carry you around. But, I am not going to join in!”

“Bilbo,” you said quietly, seriously, “we’re at the edge of Greenwood. Now called Mirkwood. You remember the awfulness I told you about that is in Mirkwood? This is not a place you’re going to want to walk. And even if it was, this is not a place we’re going to want to stay in any longer than we have to! The forest is not good, Bilbo. Not good. Please? Would you just allow yourself to be carried until we reach the Elvenking’s palace?”

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes you discovered you excelled at a month into knowing Bilbo. You only used them in very dire situations – you didn’t want him to become immune.

Bilbo glared at you for a moment before heaving a sigh.

“Alright,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Alright. You haven’t led us astray yet, or kept anything from me. If you…if you think it’s really necessary, then I will let someone carry me.”

“Excellent choice, Bilbo,” Haldir said as he walked up to you both. All the Elves were ready to go and waiting. “We are ready if you two are.”

You finished tying up your pack before you were scooped up into Haldir’s arms.

Bilbo was still grumbling as another Elf scooped him up into his arms.

You tried to smother your giggle as Bilbo continued to mutter under his breath. You had meant it – it was good for Bilbo to not walk through Mirkwood. But…boy, were you still going to enjoy this!

It didn’t take long for Woodland Realm Elves to catch up with your procession.

Lady Galadriel had already sent along a message to inform King Thranduil that you and Bilbo would most likely be accompanying her Marchwarden, so you were not a surprise to the scouts.

However, they surprised you. One minute, you were in Haldir’s arms, looking around at the tall trees, dark they were, and the next, you were staring into the very close face of a very familiar looking Elf.

“Legolas!” you greeted with a large grin. The blonde Prince blinked, exchanging a glance with Haldir before turning his eyes back to yours.

“You know of me, Little One?”

You blinked too, for a moment. Oh. Seems Lady Galadriel hadn’t told them of you. Well, it was going to be different having to explain all of this again. And…how much to tell the Woodland Elves? After all, there was no love lost between them and the Company… And while Thranduil was one of your favorite Elves, he was actually the root cause of quite a few problems. Not to mention that the Company pretty much hated him…

Shoot.

“Uh, yes,” you said after a delayed moment. A very delayed moment that was a little worrying, if the tightening of Haldir’s arms around you was any indication.

Okay, you could admit it. The whole ‘let’s visit Mirkwood’ idea was actually not one of your better ones. Since Thorin and Co. never told Thranduil exactly what they were doing and where they were going, it stood to reason that you shouldn’t just blurt out their plans like you did to the Lorien Elves. Since Lorien wasn’t even on the way to Erober, they didn’t matter but Thranduil? Oh, he mattered.

Double shoot.

“Legolas, my friend,” Haldir’s voice brought you out of your increasingly panicked musings, “it has been a long road. Perhaps we may continue this in a more comfortable venue?”

Legolas spared you one more glance before nodding and saying something in Elvish and you all moved out.

‘Nice job, Juniper,’ you hissed mentally to yourself. ‘How the hell you gonna get out of this one?’

Maybe Haldir and his Wardens would play along – you and Bilbo could claim you were just here for an adventure! Of course, you know, you’d have to explain exactly why you’re tagging along with a Marchwarden doing his duty, and how you got invited along in the first place, since you’d never met them before… Hey! Now there’s an idea!

You can tell Thranduil about who you are, but just tell him that you took Bilbo along with you to explore the area you’d read about and seen in movies! No mention of the Company, no mention of Erober.

Perfect! Sorta. Granted, Thranduil would figure out you kept things from in in about nine years, but it’d be better than betraying Thorin’s confidence before he’d actually even given it to you. Hopefully Thranduil would be okay with you leaving out some information… You’d hate to have him turn against you in nine years. He really was one of your favorites.

Now, the only problem: how to get Haldir, the wardens and Bilbo to all follow your lead without actually telling them to follow your lead.

Legolas wasn’t stupid. Suddenly shouting to ‘not say anything except for the fact that we’re traveling for funsies’ probably would garner some attention.

Triple shoot.

Your mind had been in a whirl since you met Legolas, trying to figure out all the ways this could go wrong, (and there were quite a few), and then come up with a plan to bypass those ways. In this, you were less successful.

Thankfully, Thranduil was kind enough to have you all escorted to room to rest for what remained of the day before having an audience with the Lorien envoys and meeting his other guests.

You were able to corner Bilbo, as well as Haldir and the other Elves, and told them you’d like to run point on this. Haldir and his wardens agreed easily that your business here was your own – if the Elvenking wanted to know, he could ask you and Bilbo himself.

That part taken care of, you took Bilbo aside, (you were put in adjoining rooms), to quietly hiss to him that he was NOT to mention the Company. You and your origins, sure. And he could say that you and him were just traveling to the places that you’d read about, seen in movies, etc. That would, hopefully, be enough to satisfy Thranduil.

Bilbo was hesitant at first, (lying, even by omission!, to an Elvenking was not really good practice), but when you reminded him that Thorin did not want his quest known, and reminded him of the….slight bad blood between the Dwarf and Elf, Bilbo was suddenly very passionate about keeping all details of the Company to himself.

You had to grin to yourself at that. Okay, so maybe you had been talking up Thorin a bit to Bilbo. Nothing too personal, just enough that Bilbo was growing attached to him, his family and his plight. And hopefully wouldn’t be so put out by his demeanor.

This ‘manipulating the plot’ thing was actually going pretty well – and you still had nine years left!

You were brought dinner in your rooms, were able to wash up, and then you both turned in. You had been informed by Haldir, on his way to his own room, that King Thranduil was going to summon you both to meet with him the next morning. Neither Bilbo nor yourself wanted to screw something up because of sleep deprivation.

Early bed time it was.

#To be continued #The Hobbit #Its Gonna Keep Going #You ready?#I'm not #fandoms galore #Reader Insert #Pairings?#NO CLUE on that

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clockworkfall · 4 years ago

Note

You don't even need to suggest asking for that list because I've already astral projected the request into your ask box

darcy (is it alright if i call you darcy?) you have given me so many gifts i am Vibrating bc of this

ok so - the official list of everything i personally despise the hobbit movies for and i am right things can be added to the list but i will not retract anything due to the fact that again im right also these aren’t in any particular order other than maybe the most grievous stuff will be last for the drama of it all and ive probably forgotten some things bc the last time i watched these movies was when they came out

also this is my personal favourite edition of the misty mountains song and technically it also has part of durin’s song in it but it sounds really cool and it is the appropriate 20 minute length

anyway. the list. i wasn't going to put a cut in but im only through my complaints with the first movie and its already very long so uhhh just a warning that this is extensive

where the fuck is the singing. in the book almost every single chapter has at least one song in it. the movie had two songs and they were not done properly i dont care for any of it

establish the baggins character!! they dont do it!! yes i understand that its a movie and they cant spend every second on every detail but i think its important that we know why thorin & co. underestimate bilbo at first other than We Are Dwarves And He Is A Hobbit like they d i d have that one bit where bilbo faints at the beginning and then sleeps through the dwarves leaving but still. sure i already know he is a largely respectable baggins with a tookish side but the people who havent read the book dont

singing complaint pt 2 see above

gandalf should have left more he isn't there like half the time do i want to see him more yes but give the company the chance to have character development

why is radagast here. give me one reason for radagast.

ok. i have to put them here bc im kind of going in plot order and i am looking at the wikipedia for these movies bc i am obligated to include everything but im not watching those movies again so here is one of my Top Three Things That Almost Made Me Walk Out Of Theatre: why the ever loving f u c k are there orcs. they aren’t in the book. they aren’t a problem for these people at this point in time in middle earth. there should not be orcs in this story.

also why are we talking about the necromancer and sauron and seeing the council there is a reason we dont see whatever the fuck gandalf is up to in the book. also they went to rivendell as a stop in the journey not because they were being chased by orcs. there are not orcs in this story. im moving on because im upset

also im pretty sure elrond doesn’t point out the durin’s day thing they figure it out later he just translates please let the dwarves be smart they arent but let them know their own holidays

there should be more riddles this chapter in the book is called riddles in the dark the riddles are right there you could take them verbatim from the book

fucking. a z o g. he exists and is mentioned Once in the book. he is a goblin. why did they make him an orc. there are not. supposed. to be. orcs.

ok the tree battle with the wargs happens but. its just wargs. wargs are not just Horses But Evil So Theyre Wolves. they are their own whole situation and yea they ally with the goblins later but this fight has nothing to do with orcs

there should be More between thorin and bilbo also a general note that the dwarves should have chemistry let me see them have fun together also the thrush waking up smaug is bullshit but that's less important

ok. im going to try to shut up about the orcs. orc complaint pt 102489248 see above

shut up about the necromancer shut up about the necromancer stop showing us what gandalf is doing that's his business not the story of the hobbit also why was there a message from galadriel about the nazgul this is the hobbit

i want more book beorn that man is incredible we should have had more of him movie beorn is fine i just want more

show me the illusions of elves feasting its such a cool part and it gives us a reason for the dwarves to go off the path other than Lost

also that one river show us why mirkwood is dangerous

i dont think that whole dropping the ring and killing whatever the fuck that was happens. also bilbo doesnt understand the ring and he shouldn't like it sucks for him but its important that he doesnt understand

thorin is captured first and the dwarves later and none of them are captured by tauriel and legolas. namely because neither of them are in this book.

a note about tauriel: tolkien should have more female characters but the way to go about this in an adaptation is not just throwing one in so kili can have a love interest also i fucking. despise. that subplot.

that whole confrontation doesnt happen but thranduil is rad so i dont mind t o o much but still. give thorin character other than Angry And Prideful

gandlafs business complaint pt 20942098 see above

orc complaint pt 203984395 see above

ok also the kili being wounded and poisoned or whatever makes me so fucking mad shut up about tauriel why is legolas here like i cant remember he might be shot by the elven guards but im pretty sure that whole river battle doesnt happen its just unpleasant bc theyre travelling in barrels

ok i checked the book im right that scene is horseshit why did we have to have it. if you tell the story as written you dont need to add random drama its literally right there

gandalfs business complaint pt 982347349 this story is only a prequel to the lot in the sense that it happens before it and bilbo gets the ring but that is it

kili being poisoned complaint pt 3 this is bullshit

we dont know any of this shit about bard yet im pretty sure we dont even know bard at this point but thorin and co. certainly dont

bard nonsense complaint pt 2. this is preemptive i think its third movie bullshit

they spend so much longer at the secret entrance also bilbo is sent to scout not get the arkenstone he isn't even told about it at this point im pretty sure

also thorin should be talking more half of his character is tolkien reminding us that he just does not stop talking

none of the shit at the end of this movie is right. shut up about orcs. stop talking about bard and making his life more complicated than it is. there is no molten gold or chase within the mountain smaug realizes bilbo stole a cup and leaves the mountain in a rage and smashes the area of the mountain with the door and thorin and co. are trapped inside none of this shit happens yes he goes off to destroy esgaroth but jesus not like this he goes back to the mountain first and then the conversation with bilbo happens

also the second movie is called the desolation of smaug which sounds like it refers to smaugs death but that doesnt happen in this movie and if it is actually meant to be the desolation smaug causes that also isn't shown in this movie

things are not this complicated for bard he's just great move on stop talking about his family

shut up about tauriel and legolas pt 308430

also stop making esgaroth so complicated it isn't the master of the town sucks and the people like bard so he is in charge its not difficult

the whole third movie is fucking stupid and i hate it more than the other two combined and i do not have the patience to go through the stupid plot of this terrible movie so i am going to sum up (also the princess bride slaps i was reminded of the the let me explain no time bit which is *chefs kiss* anyway back to terrible things)

also this movie should have only been as long as it was bc it dealt with thorin and keeping everyone out of the mountain and not the battle the main character was knocked out for the man wasn’t there

shut up about the fucking orcs they arent in this movie there is not final battle with azog shut up i fucking hate it here this isn't how thorin dies and fili and kill die defending him bc hes their uncle kili doesnt die defending fucking tauriel i cannot stand it here

also the whole thranduil business is blown way out of proportion

this battle is stupid and wrong and i hate it you can tell that this part is far from the book bc ive stopped trying to explain cause there are close to zero similarities and it would take too long

beorn does show up but again. why is radagast here.

this movie makes me want to scream im so upset like thorin and fili and kili dying already makes me so upset but they did them all so dirty i hate it here

if you want a more coherent and detailed Everything I Fucking Hate About This Stupid Fucking Movie i think the only way anyone will get that would be watching the movie with me and i will only watch that movie with someone who will be just as upset as i am and thats that

anyway this has been thrilling i love few things more than being able to talk about how movies ruined books this has been a gift even if i sound like im about to commit murder i just. hate these movies with a passion

#ask #definitely-darcy #the hobbit #anyway i dont know if this was clear enough but what ruined these moves was #a) the need to make them a prequel to the lotr like its not it just happens before it #and b) putting fucking orcs in it they arent supposed to be there and by adding them you ruin the story and everything is more complicated

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fiction-drabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Spitfire

A/N: @lathalea replied to my last post with “why not both” and my poly self is absolutely here for it so here we go! This part doesn’t have much Bofur in it yet, but next part (if people end up liking this one) definitely will. If you want a part 2 to this, please let me know and give some feedback!

Pairing: Thorin x OC x Bofur

Word Count: 1,073

Warnings: None

The Shire has always been a quite little town, but it seemed like tonight was especially quiet. Kat has never been a fan of the quiet, despite her brother’s insistence that it was one of the best parts of living here. Bilbo always was more like their father, while Kat tended to show the more Tookish side of their ancestry.

That was exactly what led her to take a walk at such a late hour. Unfortunately, that also led her to being late for supper and she knew Bilbo would be cross with her for staying out so late. He never did seem to fall for her puppy dog eyes……

Kat was so lost in the thought of her cross brother, that she completely missed the stranger rounding the same turn as she was. She barely registered running into something before she was falling. Next thing she knew, a hand reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her up and steadying her. Her green eyes shot up to meet a pair of cobalt blue eyes, shining brightly despite the dim light of the evening.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you okay,” she quickly asks.

The dwarf in front of her raised an eyebrow at her outburst, somehow making such a simple action look regal.

“I should be asking you that question as you are the one who almost fell,” he says.

As soon as his deep baritone voice reached her ears, goosebumps erupted on Kat’s arms. How could someone’s voice be that deep? She had never met anyone in the Shire with such a tone.

“I-I’m fine, thank you. Oh, my name is Kat Baggins, at your service. I’m sorry but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before. Are you visiting someone or just passing through,” she asks, snapping herself out of her daze.

“My name is Thorin. I’m here to visit someone, however this town was not as easy to navigate as my companion had said,” he explains, huffing slightly at the end.

“Well lucky for you I’ve lived here all my life so I know it very well. Where are you hoping to end up,” she chuckles.

“I was told that the home was referred to as Bag End. Does that sound familiar,” he asks.

Kat’s smile immediately dropped as her brow furrowed. That couldn’t be right, could it? Bilbo wasn’t friends with any dwarves as far as she knew. She would be more apt to befriend a dwarf than her dear brother. But, Thorin had said Bag End clear as day, so maybe they were friends of friends?

“I can show you to Bag End. Follow me,” she says.

She once again set off down the path as Thorin followed silently by her side. In no time at all, she was opening a familiar gate and watching as he approached the green door and- was that something carved into the door? She had just painted that! So focused on the carving, she was startled when Thorin banged loudly on the door before he turned to look at her once again.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” he says, clearly attempting to dismiss her.

Before she could respond, the door opened. However, it wasn’t her brother behind the door, but a very tall older man with grey hair and a grey beard. Behind him, she could clearly see even more dwarves inside her home. What in middle earth was going on here?

“Gandalf,” greets Thorin as he steps inside, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice.”

“Yes, sorry to interrupt but who carved a mark into the door,” Kat questions angrily as she pushes her way into the home.

“Mark? There is no mark on the door, I had it painted only a week ago,” exclaims her brother as he pushes his way through the other dwarves standing off to the side.

“Had me paint it, I think is what you mean. And I guarantee that there’s a mark on the door,” she huffs, giving Bilbo a look.

“Your sister is right, I put the mark there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. Kat, I see the two of you have already met,” introduces Gandalf.

Thorin lifts an eyebrow after hearing Gandalf refer to Kat as the sister of Bilbo, but doesn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he slowly stalks toward Bilbo.

“So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting,” Thorin questions as he began circling Bilbo

“Pardon me,” mutters Bilbo, anxiously catching Kat’s eye.

“Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice,” continues Thorin.

“Well I do have some skills at Conkers if you must know. But I fail to see how that’s relevant,” says Bilbo.

Kat sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Oh Bilbo, that did not help your case at all.

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” laughs Thorin, causing Kat’s face to flush in anger.

“While I may not know why my brother needs to look like a burglar or have any skills with weapons, I do know that you and your company are in our home, eating our food, without even letting us know you would be showing up! The least you could do is not be rude. And I prefer a sword, if you were ever planning on asking me,” rants Kat, glaring at the dwarves.

Silence falls quickly as they all stare at her, Bilbo shifting closer as though attempting to shield her from their gazes. It seems like no one has ever used that tone with Thorin before, as he looked like he was trying to decide if he was impressed or offended.

“Now, I hope some food has been saved for myself and Thorin to eat while we work out why exactly you’re here,” she snips.

She spins on her heel quickly and stalks into the kitchen, her curly red hair fanning around her as she does so. Silence follows in her wake for a moment before a dwarf with a funny hat finally breaks it.

“Well Mister Baggins, you forgot to mention that your sister is a spitfire,” he whistles lowly.

Spitfire indeed. I’ll show you spitfire if your so called “leader” continues insulting my brother.

#the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit #thorin's company #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #the hobbit thorin #thorin x oc #thorin durin #bofur the dwarf #bofur x oc #bofur #fanfic #fanfiction

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samayla · 5 years ago

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Hobbit Fic: Gemini

AO3

Bilbo may be a Baggins of a Bag End, but his twin sister Bella inherited all their mother’s Tookish tendencies. If one Hobbit burglar is good, surely two will be better… right?

Rating: G

Wow... it’s been FOREVER since I last updated. If you’ve been waiting, welcome back! And if you’re new to the AU, just plain welcome!

Chapter 16: At the Sign of the Prancing Pony

Kili was grinning like a maniac.

As he bustled past with another tray piled high with dishes of cobbler, Ori smiled to herself and turned to a fresh page in her sketchbook to capture the way his hair clung to his sweaty face, and the way his eyes gleamed in the firelight, equal parts proud and excited. The Prancing Pony’s common room was a bustling, sweltering hive of activity, and Kili was right at home at the center of it.

Word of cranberry apple cobbler had spread through Bree like wildfire, with first the local hobbits, then big folk and even travelers showing up, and more and more ingredients had been donated to the cause. Now, the place had the air of a festival day - all laughter and color and unrestrained merriment.

Bilbo supervised the kitchen staff in the preparation of his secret - though apparently famous in the lands in and around the Shire- family recipe. Meanwhile, Kili had taken it upon himself to head up the small army of volunteers eager to lend a hand in exchange for a bit of dessert - and a peek at the apparently famous recipe, Ori suspected. Some, he turned over to the inn’s head cook, who directed them in arranging a frankly impressive spread of cold meats and cheeses, pickled vegetables, day-old bread, and fresh fruit. Others, he put to serving and collecting dishes. Still others worked with Dwalin to find places for everyone to sit. Under his eye, dinner had spilled out of the inn’s common room and into the square outside, with the latest arrivals laying out blankets and towels when the tables and chairs ran out.

Though Kili’s enthusiasm for the party was infectious, he wouldn’t hear of the other company members lifting a finger.

“More’n enough help to be gettin’ on with,” Dwalin had growled in agreement, and he’d installed Ori and her sisters at what he declared was the best table to watch the proceedings. Nori disappeared within the hour, but Ori and Dori were enjoying the evening of relaxation.

Bella materialized out of the throng with three cups in hand.

“What’s that then?” Gloin demanded from the next table over, as Bella passed a cup each to Ori and Dori. The banker was already well into his own cups and was growing embarrassingly belligerent.

“Dandelion wine,” Bella chirped, apparently unbothered by his gruff manner. “Butterbur’s ale is fine enough, I’ll warrant, but this time of year, nothing beats his dandelion wine.”

“Bah!” Gloin downed the rest of the ale in his cup. “You halflings are all starry-eyed over nothing! Never been out yer little hidey-holes!”

Bella shrugged, unwilling to let Gloin get under her skin, though Ori’s artist’s eye noticed the faint pink tinge that made the freckles on her cheeks stand out. “It’s Bilbo’s first time out this far, true enough, but I’ve been out this way plenty of times.” She turned her back resolutely on Gloin’s table and addressed Ori and Dori instead. “Never could sit still, you see. Always something to do or someplace to go. Bilbo shares my taste for little adventures, of course. He just prefers his come out of a book, where he won’t get burrs in his toe hair.”

“He’ll be facing a great deal worse than burrs in his toe hair,” Thorin rumbled suddenly from behind Ori’s shoulder, making her jump and slosh wine onto her sketchbook.

Bella whipped out a pretty little embroidered handkerchief, and Ori had the fleeting thought that she’d like to sketch the little purple flowers from the border sometime, before Gloin snatched it away with a bitter laugh. “Don’ tell me,” he slurred. “Chrys-s-san...Chrysanth...Chrys’mums for cleanin’!”

“Belladonna, Master Gloin,” Bella sniffed, snatching the cloth right back again and attacking the spill as Dori pulled out her own handkerchief to help. “A gift from my dear cousin Otho on his last birthday. I figured a little adventure like this was the perfect chance to misplace it.” She held out the dripping sketchbook. “Here, Ori. I’ll let you take care of that. You’ll know better than anyone what can be done about it.”

“My apologies, Ori,” Thorin said gently. He passed over his own handkerchief to aid in the cleanup effort. “I will stop in the market for a new book first thing in the morning.”

“No need for that,” Ori hastened to assure him. “I was going to stop for a couple of spares in the morning anyway.” She blotted away more wine from the cover. “Most of this one’s in charcoal anyway, so once it dries, I can sharpen up any blurred lines, and it’ll be good as new.”

Thorin smiled away her protest, and Ori knew she’d lost this particular argument already. “Knowing you, that one is near full already.” Dori started to protest as well, but Thorin countered her argument expertly. “It is a company matter: we cannot have a scribe without a proper supply of books. I’ll find a replacement and some spares tomorrow. I insist.”

There was nothing Ori could say to that, and the soft smile Bella hid behind her wine glass said she knew it too. Thorin was too good sometimes.

“Whatever an ‘Old Took’ is, it can move mountains in this part of the world!” Kili flopped into the chair Dori had just pulled out for Thorin.

“Here,” Bella chirped up at Thorin. “You can have my seat. We’re about due for a refill anyway. Anyone else want anything? Kili? Thorin?”

Kili started to answer, but Thorin cut across him as Gloin banged his fist on the table he was sharing with Oin. “We are drawing more than enough attention to ourselves already.”

“Nonsense,” Bella answered. “If you’d only put on that smile again and lend a hand, you’d blend right in with the rest of the crowd. No one need ever know they’d shared dessert with a grumpy dwarven king.” She slipped away through the crowd with her armful of glasses before Thorin could answer back.

“She’ll be in a sorry state come morning,” Gloin groused suddenly.

“Nah,” Kili answered at once. “Looks to me like halflings can hold their liquor just as well as we can.”

“Better than some, I hope,” Thorin muttered.

Kili laughed. “I don’t know… Nori’s got herself in a drinking contest with one of them back in the corner, and he’s matching her drink for drink. Not sure where either of them is putting it, if I’m being honest. Four helpings of cobbler, too. Each! Not that I blame them,” he babbled happily, still grinning and paying more attention to the room in general than he was to the dwarves at the table. “Phenomenal. Better than Ma’s - and that’s saying something!”

“Cheats!” Gloin bellowed suddenly.

Kili whirled, confused.

“Cheats, the lot of ‘em! Anyone could cook like that with the vendors on their side! Take my wife! Take my wife! Excellent cook! Best in the Blue Mountains - meanin’ no offense to your lady mother. Jus’ a fact. Best in the Blue Mountains. But even she - even my wife! - would have a hard time competing with these halfling cooks when every little thing she needs costs her an arm and a leg. Inferior quality, too, I’ll warrant!”

The others at the table were dumbstruck by this outburst, but thankfully the rest of the room seemed to be too loud and chaotic for it to have attracted much more attention than that.

“It’d be silly to let such a small matter as -” Dori began, but Gloin cut her off, chest puffing up as he slammed his fist on the table again.

“Small? Small! They’re downright dimn-dimin...diminuitive! What business have they got cooking so well? What do they do with it all? They’re so tiny!”

Kili frowned and peered around at some of the nearest hobbits. “They’re not that small.”

Gloin scoffed. “Half-lings, lad,” he said loudly. “Half. They don’ call ‘em that on account o’ bein’ large!”

If they weren’t drawing undue attention before, they were now. The conversation around them soured and then died. Ori saw Thorin’s shoulders shift and knew his hand was going for the hilt of a knife.

“Come on, Gloin,” Dori said, as though nothing at all were the matter. She stood and hauled him upright as well. “Why don’t you show me that picture you brought of your dear wife, hmm? I heard you telling Dwalin it was quite a flattering likeness, but you haven’t shown me yet.”

Gloin blinked blearily. “Haven’ I?” He lurched away from the table, only Dori’s strong grip on his arm keeping him vertical. “Well, come on, then. No time like the presen’, I always say. Righ’ flatterin’ likeness. Righ’ flatterin’.”

The tension slowly eased around their table as Gloin was escorted upstairs, but Thorin did not look particularly relieved. Ori patted some more at her damp sketchbook to keep her hands busy, while Kili tried to work out how Gloin managed to win their argument.

“Halflings,” he muttered as Bella returned with refilled glasses and Fili at her side. “Half. Lings. Half-lings…”

“We are hobbits, Kili,” Bella said shortly as she took up Dori’s vacated seat. Fili spun Gloin’s chair to join their table. “We are not half of anything.”

“I meant no offense,” Kili was quick to assure her.

“None,” Fili confirmed. “That’s just what the men call your folk.”

“Elves too!” Kili added emphatically.

Bella snorted. “In that case, I should be calling your folk Naugrim.”

Kili made a face. “What’s that mean?

“Stunted people,” Ori blurted, before she could think better of it. Her cheeks flushed as Thorin growled.

Bella paled. “Perhaps it would be best if we agreed to leave the more ill-considered aspects of Elvish nomenclature aside.”

“So, if you’re hobbits,” Ori ventured, eager to talk about something that wasn’t likely to make Thorin any angrier, “are their different words for male and female? Like dwarves and dams?” She flipped through until she found a page in her book that was mostly dry.

“Ooh!” Kili exclaimed. “Wom-bit?”

“Nah, Ki,” Fili answered. “That’s that rat-thing from Balin’s stories about the Dark Land.”

“Fine. She-bit?”

“Gal-bit,” Fili countered.

Kili grinned. “Fe-bit!”

Fili blushed, but he was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Bella’s brother, who flopped down onto the arm of her chair with a pleased huff. “Well, that’s the last of it!” He passed a cup to Kili. “For my assistant! You have to try this!”

“What is it?” Kili asked, the cup already halfway to his lips.

“Only the best dandelion wine I’ve ever tasted,” Bilbo declared happily, taking a swig of his own.

Kili swallowed hard and started to cough.

“What’s the matter?” Bella asked, clearly alarmed by his reaction. “Don’t you like it?”

Ori glanced from Kili and Fili to their uncle and back again. She was not at all sure that was a story any of them wanted repeated.

“Might like it a bit too much, if mem’ry serves!” Dwalin clapped both Kili and Fili hard on the shoulders as he strode up. “Come give us a hand, lads. They want dancing.”

“Twist my arm,” Kili laughed, clearly relieved. He bowed low and offered Bella his hand. “Care for a dance, fair Lady Bell?”

Bella giggled and gulped down the rest of her wine before reaching for his hand. Fili swooped in and grabbed Kili instead, twirling away with him. “There are tables to move first, dear brother,” he said formally. Bella laughed outright and followed them out to where several of the men were already shoving tables out to the edges of the floor.

“What about you, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked. “Do you share your sister’s love of dancing?”

Bilbo chuckled, but flopped down into his sister’s chair. “Normally, I’d say yes, Master Oakenshield, but alas, my poor feet have already taken quite the beating these past few days. I think they’d prefer a rest while I enjoy the festivities from afar.”

“We have much farther to go,” was all Thorin said in reply.

The musicians started up, and for a few minutes, the three of them were content to watch. “Will you join the dancing, Ori?”

“Oh, no,” Ori said, blushing as she watched Dwalin and Fili stomp out a complicated figure in the middle of the dancefloor, to much clapping and cheering. “I’d much rather sketch. Everyone is so merry tonight, it’d be a shame to forget about it later.”

Bilbo sighed contentedly and settled back in the chair, sipping at his wine. “I can see the draw of it all now, I suppose. The travelling, I mean. I can understand a bit of why Bella would want to run off, if this was what was waiting for her.”

Ori opened her mouth to answer, to tell Bilbo how sweet a thought that was, but Thorin beat her to it. “There is more to the world than baking and dancing, Master Baggins,” he rumbled.

Bilbo was quiet for a minute, staring determinedly at the dancers, while Thorin lit his pipe, and Ori dared hope that would be the end of it. Bilbo had made so many people so happy today. It wasn’t fair of Thorin to shove reality back in his face so rudely. He was only trying to help.

Suddenly, Bilbo whirled and pinned Thorin with a glare. “I know full well the world is full of rainstorms and thunder, Master Oakenshield,” he spat. “But it seems to me that there is then even more reason to savor the sunshine when it chooses to peek out from behind the clouds.” He stared a moment longer, but Thorin didn’t appear to have anything to say to that, and Bilbo nodded to himself. He finished his drink, blushing fiercely - he had freckles, just like his sister - and marched over to join the dancing.

Ori drank some more wine to cover her own embarrassment, and she sketched in the drier margins of her book - Dwalin’s wide grin as he clapped for a hobbit lass dancing a jig, Fili twirling Bella, Kili teaching Bilbo the steps to a dwarvish dance, Bofur piping with the other musicians, Nori listing to the side as a group of hobbits and men declared her the winner of her drinking contest and passed over a small purse…

Other than asking if Ori required another refill on her drink, Thorin did not say a word after Bilbo left. He merely watched the room warily as he finished his pipe, then retired up the stairs.

#hobbitgemini #kate writes #hobbit fic #hobbit #thorin #bilbo #ori #kili #fili #dwalin #gloin #dori

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annoyedfanfiction · 6 years ago

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Thorin x Reader

“No! No! No more dw–“ Bilbo stopped shouting as he opened the door, looking out at the girl in front of him. “Your ears!” He covered his mouth immediately, begging a flushed apology.

“No need, Master Baggins,” she laughed, ruffling his hair, “You said the same thing when you were a youngling. Not everyday you see a half-elf hobbit! Oh, how much you’ve grown! Now, are these dwarves causing trouble?”

“Wha-I’m terribly sorry, but who are you?” he asked, peering at her, curiously. She stood only a few inches taller than him – more than a head shorter than the others in the room.

“Oh, of course, you won’t remember me.” She offered her hand, with a warm, age-old smile. “Faëlisse. Friend and cousin of your mother’s.” That explained her Tookish grin then.

“I remember mother telling me stories about you,” Bilbo mused, sleepily, “I had no idea you were still alive – or half-elf! No offence, of course, its just, you must be older than her and she passed a long time ago.”

“None taken, Bilbo,” she smiled, sadly, Belladonna’s mischief dancing through her mind.

“Hogging our guest, Master Baggins?” Gandalf’s deep voice rumbled, above the two. “Gandalf, it has been so long since we saw one another,” she scolded, “It was time I caught up with Belladonna’s little one. And you know how rude it is to mark a Hobbit’s home!”

“Yes, yes, well–“ He paused, as she folded her arms, eyebrows flickering up. “My apologies, Master Bilbo.” The wizard turned, and the two Hobbits followed him into the kitchen. Silence fell as they entered, all eyes edging between the group in the doorway and the scowling dwarf at the head of the table. The dwarf placed his cutlery down, and looked up, eyeing Faëlisse from head to toe.

“Another Hobbit?” he asked Gandalf, exhaustedly, gesturing to her slight figure, “I thought you said she was a trained–“ The blade which pinned his sleeve to the wall cut him off, and every eye turned to her. The smaller, elderly dwarf grabbed his brother’s arm as he made to get up, shaking his head. His brother scowled, but returned to his seat.

“You, erm, seem to have a little something…” She gestured to his sleeve, making the two young ones and the moustachioed dwarf smother a laugh.

“Indeed,” he huffed, pulling it from the wall, and examining the blade. “Obsidian?”

“From the magma of Mount Doom,” Faëlisse answered, happily, making even the scowling brother look up, as the king handed him the dagger.

“Forged?” Thorin queried, continuing on.

“By my own hand,” she responded, with an easy shrug.

“Impressive handiwork, lass,” the scowling one commented. “Thank you…er…” she trailed off unsure.

“Dwalin,” the gruff man put in, passing back her blade.

“A pleasure,” she smiled, “I take it Gandalf has not introduced me, so I shall take that liberty. Faëlisse Took.”

“You are not just hobbit,” the elder brother commented, curiously.

“Half-elven,” she answered, “Of a heritage which no longer exists, but I have made my homes in the Shire and at the Last Homely House.”

“You would bring an elf into this?” Thorin’s hostility flared again, and Faëlisse sighed.

“I am only half-elven.” She shoved her blade back into her sleeve, silently promising to fix Bilbo’s wall. “And even if I were a full-blooded elf, the wrongs of Mirkwood should not reflect on all my race. Nor on me.” She resisted the urge to add that he, son of Thrain, son of Thror, should know better than any one that not all who share blood are the same. Thorin shook his head, looking over to Dwalin and his brother, as the two young ones leapt from their seats to envelope her in chatter.

“Faëlisse, right?” Fili asked, holding out a hand. “Fili, at your service”

“A pleasure,” she smiled, kneeling to kiss his hand. “My prince.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not yet,” Kili huffed, “I’m Kili.”

“My prince.” She repeated her action, then straightened. “You are the king’s nephew’s, are you not?” The two nodded at the same time, and she felt Bilbo’s incredulous eyes on them, turning to him. “Gandalf did not tell you? The leader of this Company is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, rightful King under the Mountain. His nephews will be Princes.”

“No,” Bilbo ground out, “He did not tell me.” The three of them laughed, as Gandalf shrugged in the corner at Bilbo’s glare.

“How do you know Gandalf then?” Fili asked, curiously.

“We are both wanderers,” she answered, with a grin, “We have journeyed together many times.” Kili nudged his brother, gesturing across the room to Dwalin, who once again had his hand stuck in the cookie jar.

“It’s a weakness,” he laughed, conspiratorially. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of a paunch for it.” Faëlisse smothered a laugh, as Bilbo frowned at the improper princes.

“Oh, come Bilbo,” she teased the Hobbit, “If you are to meet a dragon, you must have all your Took blood on show.”

“You are related?” Kili questioned, tearing his eyes away from the sight of the irritable warrior.

“Cousins, distantly,” Faëlisse answered, inviting Bilbo’s frown, “I’m the fun side of the family.” The two brothers burst into laughter, the eavesdropping wizard joining them, causing Thorin’s disgruntled look as he noticed the group at the end of the table.

“The contract,” the small, elderly dwarf said, holding out a long parchment to each of the hobbits.

“I will make it clear, that I will not be responsible for your safety,” Thorin grumbled, firmly. “I cannot guarantee you will return.” Bilbo gulped, as the moustachioed dwarf began his story of the dragon. She caught him as he fell, raising an eyebrow at the now-silent dwarf.

“...oops?” he questioned, making her roll her eyes, carrying her cousin from the room. He appeared again, moments later, with two cups of tea, but she didn’t miss the two others watching him from the hallway.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmured, handing both her and Bilbo a cup. “I did not realise–“

“It’s quite alright, Master Dwarf,” Bilbo mumbled, into his tea.

“Bofur,” he offered, as he backed away slightly.

“And your supervisors?” Faëlisse snickered, as the two dwarves in the corridor vainly attempted to flee.

“Bombur, my brother,” Bofur said, eliciting a timid wave from the younger, rotund red-haired dwarf. “And Dori.”

”Pleased to make your acquaintances,” Faëlisse nodded, sipping her tea. The three dwarves made a quick exit, into the living room next door, and she could hear their quiet voices as they discussed the two newcomers. Moments passed, as the voices edged into silence, before a warm rumbling grew from the room. She padded in, just in time to hear the other dwarves join Thorin in their song, Erebor’s vast halls returning to life in their words. As the singing melted to a close, Thorin looked up from the fireplace and caught her wooded gaze, and immediately the welcome halls of the song faded from her. She was not wanted here, at least by him. Wordlessly, she rolled her contract, and handed it to the elderly dwarf beside her - Balin, she remembered, before she fluttered out of the room. She could hear the two younger brothers huff at Thorin for it, but she did not stop to hear it.

“Farewell, young cousin,” she smiled, placing a soft kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. “I will see you soon, if you are truly a Took.” Bilbo frowned, wondering at her meaning. It would wake him the next morning as a challenge, and she would smirk as he proved her right. Took blood was not so easily diluted.

———————

“Wait! Wait!” She turned to all of them, a wide smirk fixed in place, as Bilbo flew down the hill.

“Get him on a pony,” Thorin commanded, as Fili and Kili scooped the poor Hobbit up.

“Ah, actually,” she sped up, reigning her horse in between the two scowling leaders. “I believe you both owe me.” Their scowls deepened, if it was possible, but each of them passed over a small bag of coins. “Thank you!” She dropped back, beside her cousin and Gandalf, just as the wizard pocketed his own coin.

“What did you think?” Bilbo demanded, folding his arms. “Surely you had more sense than to bet on me?”

“I had the sense not to bet against a Took,” she answered, with a wide grin, coins jingling as she tucked them into her pockets.

———————

“What in Mahal’s name were you thinking?” Thorin demanded, pulling Faëlisse up by her collar. “You could’ve been killed!”

“I was thinking that if I didn’t, Fili would have been killed,” she answered, calmly, hiding her wince, as she brushed dirt from her sleeves. Thorin just stared at her, the calm demeanour flooring his rage. She turned to Fili while he gathered his thoughts, checking the blond prince for injuries.

“Raurion (lion-son),” she murmured, ruffling Fili’s hair, letting Thorin wander off to speak to the returned wizard about the troll cave, unable to find the words for the girl.

“Follow the smell,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely at the concealed cave to the left of the clearing. Kili glanced up from reaching for the growing bruise appearing behind the ripped sleeve on Fili’s shoulder, confused.

“What?” he questioned, making the previously oblivious Fili jump, and turn to glare at his younger brother, moving away towards Oin.

“They’re wondering about the troll cave,” she replied, pointing to the nearby group, who had turned to look around the area. “It’s over there!” She raised her voice, nodding towards the hidden entrance, from which the rotten smell floated. She could feel the darkness growing around her as the dwarves edged towards the cave, weapons and complaints at the ready.

“You coming?” Kili asked, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll keep watch.” She pulled out one of her swords and a whetstone, kicking back to lean against a large rock. He shrugged, disappearing into the cave with the others.

“Radagast, calm down!” she exclaimed, entrapping the sobbing brown wizard in a hug, “What’s wrong?”

“Greenwood,” Radagast shivered, looking up at her, with tears in his eyes, as Sebastian snuffled out from under his hat, curling into Faëlisse’s wild, earth-brown hair. “The Shadow is back.” Gandalf swooped out of the cave, pulling the other wizard aside.

“Um, no,” Faëlisse scolded, following the two, “I have as much right to hear this as you, Mithrandir.” Gandalf sighed, but Radagast continued to speak.

“Mirkwood has returned, and it is spreading – the spiders, the forest is darkening, goblins are returning.” She knew the thundering footsteps in her ear couldn’t have been a good sign, but she couldn’t quite place it until a distant roar echoed across the plain, unheard by her companions.

“Wargs,” she whispered, Radagast’s hysteria fading as she lifted Sebastian from her hair, “Wargs!” The dwarves who had begun emerging from the cave sprinted out, but not in time to catch the bolting ponies.

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf roared at the company, but Faëlisse simply cuffed him under the chin as the dwarves fired back with empty answers.

“It is Azog,” she snarled, picking up the few discarded packs, as Radagast’s black owl clung to her shoulder.

“Radagast, take Quessë back,” she said, as the owl refused to release her. “Quickly, we must go.”

“She will stay with you,” Radagast answered, tucking Sebastian safely back beneath his hat. “I will lead them off.”

“These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you.” Gandalf shook his head, tapping his staff irritably.

“Those are Rhosgobel rabbits,” Faëlisse pointed out, earning Radagast’s mischievous grin. “I’d like to see them try.” With that, the brown wizard took off across the plains, whooping, sending the Wargs bounding after him in a cacophony of movement, as Gandalf took the lead.

———————

“This was your plan all along!” Thorin snapped, turning on the meddling wizard. “You think the elves will bless this quest? They will try to stop us!”

“Nevertheless, we have questions we need answered,” Gandalf pointed out, “And injuries to heal, and it will take no little tact or charm to gain such answers. That is why you must leave the talking to me and Faëlisse.”

“What questions?” Thorin demanded, not letting the wizard’s trickery pass so easily. “Faëlisse can read the map!”

“There are still injuries,” Gandalf answered, making Thorin’s eyes flickering over the tired, but mostly whole company, allowing Gandalf to slip away to speak to Lindir.

“Bruises, but nothin–Faëlisse!” he exclaimed, suddenly noticing the red stain crossing her mud-soaked shirt, the way she swayed a little on her feet, even as the owl still clung to her. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His questions were echoed by the Company, until the elf-horn from the plain sounded again, turning all eyes back to the front. Dismounting to greet Gandalf, Elrond’s eyes scanned the company, until he was nudged, urgently, by a golden-haired elf, as two young, brown-haired elves wove their way into the company, grasping Faëlisse, worriedly.

“You are injured!” one of them exclaimed, turning to the company, “What did you do to her?”

“I am fine, Eln (Elladan),” she soothed, brushing her fingers through the tips of his hair, “There were… obstacles… to our journey, this is not the fault of the company.”

“Was it an orc blade?” the other asked, hurriedly, “Those were Gundabad orcs, they pois–“

“It was a troll, don’t worry, Elr (Elrohir),” Faëlisse answered, as Elrond and Lindir, too, joined the group. “Adar. Lina.”

“Lindir, take Faëlisse to her room,” Elrond instructed, making the more experienced elf nod, grasping her arm and half her weight. “Elladan, fetch hot water and clean bandages. Elrohir, go with Lindir and find out what he needs.” “Hey! Where are you taking her?” Thorin blocked the path, as Lindir tried to lead Faëlisse from the room.

“He’s taking me to clean my wound, Thorin,” Faëlisse assured him, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lindir is almost my brother, he will keep me safe. Lord Elrond is not the same as Thranduil, you can trust him as much as you can trust me.”

———————

She could hear footsteps in the corridor – given the distrust of elves, she could hardly call it unusual. Thorin’s footsteps had a distinctive click when he was brooding. Elrohir entered with the herbs Lindir had requested, before joining Elladan at her bedside as Lindir set to work on the poultice.

“I swear, if he does one more lap of this corridor, I’m going to spike his food with poppy milk,” Faëlisse complained, resisting the urge to yell out to the pacing king. Elladan chuckled, shaking his head.

“He was a little stressed,” Elrohir commented, the king’s fretful face flashing across his mind.

“Always,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the brothers. “Brooding is his natural state.”

“No, I mean, he was worried,” Elrohir compounded his words, with a pouty face. “Like, I could feel his eyes burning into my back when I entered kind of worried.” Faëlisse scoffed, shaking her head at her brother.

“If you’d met the man before, you’d know his eyes burn into anything that moves,” she managed through a wince, earning a soft laugh from the brothers, as Lindir pressed the poultice to her wound. “I can’t imagine how many elves he’s tried to set on fire being in their home.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised, looking them sternly in the eyes. “No moving – you’ll dislodge it.” He turned, and vanished from the door, immediately earning the ceasing of footsteps, before they began again, hurriedly.

“Is she alright?” Thorin’s voice travelled easily through the walls.

“She is quite fine, your Majesty,” Lindir replied, calmly. Faëlisse could hear the hidden smirk in his voice, raising an eyebrow at the brothers, who just grinned back at her. “I’ll check if she’ll see you, if you would like?”

“I shouldn’t disturb her,” Thorin hesitated, making the brothers snort.

“If anything, you will be a calming influence in that room,” Lindir assured him, as the door clicked open and closed again. “I hate to say this, but Elrohir’s right.” Faëlisse glared at him, as he wrapped her wound.

“Excuse me?” she questioned, sitting up once he fixed the bandages in place.

“You’ve scored a king,” Elladan translated, despite her already fatal look.

“The only one who’s scored a king is the mountain he calls home,” she answered, as Elrohir pulled the door open to invite Thorin in, just in time to see Faëlisse’s knuckles land firmly on Elladan’s shoulder. “Hi, Thorin.”

“Am I interrupting?” Thorin questioned, as Elrohir pulled up another chair for him.

“Not at all,” she smiled, widely, “Have you met Elladan, Elrohir and Lindir?” She gestured to the three elves around her. “Elladan and Elrohir are Elrond’s sons, and Lindir is his partner and friend.”

———————

“How is Faëlisse?” Fili questioned, innocently, as the brothers sidled up to Thorin in the corridor.

“Healing, and happy,” Thorin replied, resisting the urge to grind his teeth at the memory of one of the brunet elves fixing the braid in her hair.

“Are her brothers with her?” Kili asked, guiding his uncle into the dining hall, where the rest of the company was causing a rather subdued ruckus.

“Brothers?” he queried, taking a seat between Balin and Dwalin, with his nephews opposite him.

“Elladan, Elrohir, and Lindir?” Fili said, munching down on some salad. “And Lord Elrond – remember, she called him Adar, he’s in charge. They’re not actually related, but she’s basically adopted them as her family.” Thorin’s thoughts floated back to the room.

“Yes, they were,” he confirmed, picking at the salad, “You’re sure they’re her family?”

“She didn’t stop talking about her crazy brothers,” Kili informed him, with a wild grin, “Gave us half our ideas for pranks, between her childhood and theirs.”

“I’ll have to remind her to stop talking to you,” Dwalin muttered, glaring distastefully at the greenery in front of him.

“Stop talking to who?” Faëlisse’s voice made them all jump, as she took a seat beside the brothers.

“Us,” Fili and Kili sulked, simultaneously.

“Arm?” Dwalin grunted, unceremoniously.

“Good as new,” she smiled, happily. “Lindir and Elrond are the best healers around.” “Oi!” Oin complained.

“I thought you were deaf?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Dead? Me? You’re the idiot who got herself stabbed!” he grouched, turning back to the table, as Gloin shrugged, helplessly. Faëlisse and the Durin brothers burst into laughter, as Elladan and Elrohir entered, snatching their chairs from the table where Elrond and Gandalf sat.

“Do you mind if we join you?” The question was aimed at the whole table, but all eyes were firmly fixed on Thorin. He considered the two for a moment, before nodding.

“By all means,” he replied, tactfully, “It is the least we can offer in thanks for your hospitality.” The elven brothers grinned, taking their seats on the other side of Faëlisse, and immediately descending into chatter with the Durin brothers. Faëlisse glanced across the table mid-laugh, meeting Thorin’s almost-smiling eyes with her own. She smiled, softly, before turning back to the others, wincing as she twisted her injured shoulder.

Thorin watched as Faëlisse kissed each of her brothers and her cousin on the cheek, and then Kili and Fili, bidding them goodnight warmly. The rest of the company was too absorbed in their chaos, so she simply waved, not risking the makeshift dance floor, before she made her way over to them.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, planting a gentle kiss on Gandalf and Elrond’s cheeks, before hugging Balin. She hesitated in front of Dwalin, who just opened his huge, tanned arms, letting her leap in for a warm hug.

“May I walk you to your room, milady?” Thorin asked, before she could dismiss him.

“Only if you are going that way, your majesty,” she agreed, as he rose to his feet.

“Indeed I am,” he said, nodding goodnight to the others at the table. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond.” She lead the way out of the hall, before she stumbled a little. Thorin caught her with her good arm, and steadied her on her feet.

“Are you alright?” he queried, carrying a little of her weight.

“Indeed, thank you,” she smiled, gently, “Lindir’s herbs are starting to kick in, I suppose. They tend to make for a potent combination. I appreciate your help.” He pushed open the door to her room and she sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling out a small container of poppy milk that Lindir had left for her.

“You know which room you are?” she asked, recalling that the dwarven leader had lost his way even in the Shire.

“Well…” he muttered, remembering the unfamiliar carvings on the door, the maze of marble halls, “I’ll find it.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Stay here for tonight,” she yawned, fumbling with the ties on her delicate dress, before slipping it off to reveal a long shift beneath it. “I will show you the way in the morning.”

“I shouldn’t,” Thorin protested, weakly, as she climbed, sleepily, into one side of the huge bed. “It isn’t pro–“ “It is practical,” she interrupted, burying her face in the pillows. “If you would prefer properness, feel free to wander the halls until Elrond takes pity and sends someone for you.” He sighed, knowing she was correct, before stripping down to just his trousers, and climbing into the bed beside her. She seemed to already have been lost in the sea of blankets, and he wondered, briefly, what he had even been worried about.

“Faëlisse!” Dwalin’s voice thundered into the room, fists slamming loudly on the door the next morning.

“Come in, Dwalin,” she answered, blearily, “And stop that forsaken banging.”

“Thorin is–“ His sentence stopped dead as he stared at the scene in front of him. “Thorin is right here,” she said, as the red-faced dwarf king could do nothing but stare at his best friend. “He could not find his room last night, and I was too tired to show him the way. Now either both of you leave me in peace, or Thorin and I both get to go back to sleep. Either way, I’m sleeping.” The two dwarves rumbled out a chuckle, and Dwalin backed out of the room.

“The others are not awake yet,” he said, turning away, “I will…return to my room.” Thorin sighed, flopping back onto the mattress, as Faëlisse curled back up.

She blinked her eyes open, the soft pillow beneath her head distinctively cold against the warm surface she was pressed against. The warm, breathing surface. The warm, Thorin surface. She peered up at him, desperately hoping to see his eyes closed, so she could edge away without his noticing, despite the arm wrapped around her shoulders, but she was met with gunmetal eyes. Very open gunmetal eyes.

“Good morning, again,” he greeted, softly, allowing her to unfurl from him. “You were having a…rather aggressive dream. It was either be cuddled or be kicked.” His soft laughter was infectious, and she giggled, as she ran a hand through her curly hair.

“Apologies,” she offered, as the door inched open again, revealing eight mischievous eyes. Mischief turned to fear as they realised they’d been caught. “Ah, I knew you four would make a formidable team,” she commented, as the culprits slunk into the room. “Mahal help us all.”

“Did you sleep well, Faëlisse, Uncle?” Fili asked, innocently.

“Well, he must’ve slept better than he would have wandering the halls,” Faëlisse defended, though she couldn’t help the rising flush.

“So you’re saying this is all because Uncle has no sense of direction?” Kili confirmed, eliciting snickers from his companions, and a growl from his uncle.

“I don’t believe either of us had enough mead last night to justify any other suspicions,” Thorin grumbled, but no one missed the matching pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Faë!” A child’s voice squealed, as a tiny bundle of dark hair raced through the open door, pouncing on her.

“Estel, my little rovén-hén,” she smiled, scooping him into her arms. “How have you fared?” “I’ve been to Lothlorien!” he exclaimed, excitedly, launching into babble about the other Elvish homeland.

“Who are you?” he demanded, then, turning to Thorin, who was staring at the infant in disbelief.

“Estel, that is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain,” Faëlisse informed him, easily, “Thorin, this is Estel, Lord Elrond’s ward.”

“You’re a king?” Estel’s eyes widened. “What’s it like? I’m gonna be a king when I grow up!”

“Are you?” Thorin snapped out of his daze, as the child crawled over onto his lap.

“Yeah! I am!” he said, bouncing up and down, as he began to describe his perfect future kingdom. “Are you going to marry Faëlisse?” The room paused, letting the statement sink in, as Faëlisse and Thorin stared at the child, horrified, with the four mischief-makers unable to control their laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, turning to them, as they sank to the floor. “Gilraen said that people only get in bed together if they love each other very much. And he’s not her brother!”

“Thorin and I are friends, rovén-hén,” Faëlisse explained, finally snapping out of her shock.

“But–“ he began, furrowing his little brow. “I think it’s time you showed Kili and Fili where to get breakfast,” she interrupted, flying him off the bed, despite the protests of the mischief-makers.

“I can do that!” Estel exclaimed, grabbing one of Kili’s hands and one of Fili’s, leading the two out of the room at a run, with a still-laughing Elladan and Elrohir on their heels. Silence fell across the room again as the door shut, firmly, behind the group.

“Is Estel…Is he your son?” Thorin asked, desperately trying to sound only curious.

“Oh, no,” she answered, easily, standing to pull on a clean, lavender shift and dress. “I mean…he is in all but blood. His mother is Gilraen…he reminds her far too much of her widow, so since Elrond took them in she has drifted away.” Her musing was interrupted by the black flurry which flew through the window, attaching itself to her shoulder.

“Ah, welcome back, Quessë,” she smiled, scritching the owls dark neck.

“What’s so funny?” Dwalin grumbled, suspiciously, as the laughing Durin brothers and the two elves were led in by a smiling child. “And who’s the kid?”

“Estel, Lord Elrond’s ward,” Fili answered, as the others struggled to still their laughter.

“And your amusement?” Balin queried, from a distance.

“I have never seen a face as red as your king’s when this one asked if he was going to marry our sister,” Elladan replied, through his laughter. The room stopped, then burst into uproarious laughter.

“Oh Mahal,” Bofur choked, staggering up to them, “What did he say?”

“He just…stared,” Kili managed, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, “They both did! I thought they were going to implode. Good job, kiddo.” He ruffled Estel’s hair, and the human child stared up at him, confused.

“What? I still don’t understand why this is funny!” he complained, huffily.

“Because, Esté,” Elrohir said, glancing down at the irate boy. “Those two are madly crushing on each other, but they haven’t admitted it yet.”

“But, whyyyy?” Estel’s brow furrowed. “Why haven’t they? I’m going to a–“ “No, no,” Elladan grabbed the child before he could take off again, “You can’t say a word about this to either of them, alright? Pretend we didn’t tell you.” “Clueless questions about marriage are quite fitting, however,” Fili mused, catching Kili’s twinkling eyes.

“Oh yeah, keep doing that,” Elrohir nodded, grinning, “We’d never get away with it, but Faë’ll let you off easy.” Estel matched Elrohir’s grin, mischief forming in his bright, dark eyes, as he sprang from Elladan’s arms and bounced at their feet, eyes fixed on the huge stacks of pancakes on the table.

“Last one to the table’s a rotten egg!” he grinned, shooting off to one of the wooden stools, sending the other four scrambling after him.

Thorin collided directly with his wrathful general as he exited Faëlisse’s room, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting smell.

“What is that?” he complained, stepping quickly back, to get a good look at Dwalin, just as Faëlisse appeared beside him.

“Estel beat you to the table, didn’t he.” It was more a statement than a question, earning an irate growl of affirmation from Dwalin. A large, brownish egg yolk rested on the top of his bald head, the greyish tendrils of off egg white sticking to his hair and beard. The rest of the Company rounded the corner, quickly retreating at the sight before them. “I’ll show you to the baths.” She raised her voice, summoning the other dwarves. “At least if you’re all together Thorin can’t get lost.” She danced out of the king’s reach, taking up the lead.

“Clothes?” Faëlisse requested, knocking at the door of the change room. “Dwalin, especially, Estel and I will get the egg out of yours. You’ll want to at least start the rest of our journey clean.” She looked down at Estel, reproachfully, who looked down at his feet, pouting. The door opened, eliciting loud shrieks of protest, as a basket was handed to her.

“Oh, sissies,” she huffed, as the culprit – a towel-enshrouded Bifur – closed the door, quickly. “It’s not like that.” “You wouldn’t be saying that if Thorin didn’t have a towel on, lassie!” Bofur’s statement was followed by the resounding flick of a towel slapping against bare skin, and a squeal from the offending dwarf.

“There are innocent ears out here, Bofur,” she scolded, as Estel finally looked up from his feet.

“There are innocent in ears in here, too!” Dori complained, and even without looking in, everyone, including Faëlisse, could see him clutching a confused Ori’s ears.

“What does that mean?” he questioned, frowning. “What difference does a towel make? Aren’t you and Thorin getting married anyway?” That sent another wave of laughter through the dwarves.

“We better go do the washing,” Faëlisse said, hoisting the basket onto her hip.

“You didn’t say no, lass!” Kili called, but she just shook her head, leading Estel towards the laundry rooms to the echoing sound of Kili’s pained squeal.

“Stop encouraging the kid,” Thorin scolded, as the rest of the company moved towards the baths. “He may be genuinely confused, but you aren’t.” The dwarves clamoured in disagreement, and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to Dwalin, who just shrugged.

“I’m confused too,” the warrior teased, darting out of the way of Thorin’s towel-whip. “Perhaps to a different extent to the child.”

“What’s so confusing?” he huffed, sinking into the warm water. “Faëlisse didn’t trust me to find my way through the halls.” “Well, you did get lost in the shire,” Bilbo pointed out, breaking his silence on the issue. “I can’t say I blame her. Especially with how obvious the mark on my door was.”

“Well, then, what’s so confusing?” Thorin repeated, flicking water at his sniggering nephews.

“You think we believe that you would’ve stayed if it was anyone except her who said it?” Balin asked, raising an eyebrow from beside Thorin.

“Aye, if it’d been me, ya would’ve stormed off and had to be fished out of some ravine on the other side of Middle Earth,” Dwalin agreed, on the king’s other side.

“I–“ Thorin frowned, insistently blaming his heated cheeks on the warm water. “Definitely would’ve,” Fili completed, with a shit-eating grin.

“Why don’t you just admit you like the lass?” Gloin asked, reclining back in the warm water.

“Even I can see it,” Bilbo agreed, before ducking under the water, soaking his light curls into a dark mop.

“Aye, ya look at th’girl same as Gloin looked at Mizim,” Oin nodded, sagely, ear horn sitting at the side of the pool.

“I thought you were deaf,” Thorin snarked at the old healer.

“Dead?” Oin repeated, irritably, “And here I had the same discussion with Faëlisse last night. You’re both as stupid as each other, you’ll make quite a pair.”

———————

“Touch me again, you great slug,” Faëlisse snarled, kicking aside the huge, rotten tooth she had knocked from the goblin king’s mouth. “And I’ll serve your delightful subjects your intestines for dinner.”

“Will you, now, daughter of Feanör?” The Goblin King sneered, ensuring that he fastened her limbs together as he lifted her the second time. Her skin crackled with heat, sending him into a howling release, but not without tearing the sleeve from her coat. She snatched it up, irritably, tucking it into her belt.

“To think, this coat lasted through Sauron’s attacks, only to be torn by a measly Goblin,” she huffed, as Gandalf’s voice bellowed through the chamber.

“Take up arms and fight, you fools.” She was getting very sick of being grouped among the fools. She snatched Dwalin’s axes from the goblin beside her, tossing them to him with a shout, before spinning to hand Thorin Orcrist, in exchange for her various obsidian daggers and sword. He froze, as her hand met his, staring down at her uncovered arm, and the scars that danced up it, white and red and ridged.

“Thorin!” she snarled, slicing a goblin away with his sword. “Give me my blades! And take yours!” The Dwarf King shook his head, looking up at her, abruptly, resuming the weapons trade without a word, his gunmetal eyes glazed, as she turned back into the battle, familiar black-bladed sword swinging.

———————

“Thorin, don’t be a fool!” she growled, snatching, vainly, at the Dwarf King’s charging coat. “Thorin!” Azog overpowered him all too quickly, outnumbered by the white orc and his huge, white Warg, not mention the cheering audience of orcs. Bilbo lunged from nowhere, the glowing Sting held before him, just as Faëlisse leaped from the tree. She landed on her feet on the white Warg’s back, pressing her long, obsidian blade to the Orc’s neck, even as he gripped Bilbo by the collar.

“Unhand the Hobbit,” she hissed, burrowing her blade deeper into his skin.

“He is not who I want anyway,” Azog growled, unceremoniously tossing the small creature aside. “The lines of Durin and Feanör ending at once? I could not have asked for more.” Without warning, he flipped backwards, snatching at air where Faëlisse had stood just moments before, only blistering footprints left in her wake on the Warg’s skin. Above his head, the Lord of the Eagles called loudly to his kin, the company of Thorin Oakenshield firmly in their talons.

“A daughter of Feanör, huh?” Bofur queried, with what was an attempt at cheer, as he took a seat beside her on the Carrock.

“Indeed,” she smiled, absently, pulling aside the dwarf’s torn and singed sleeve to reveal the blistered burn beneath. She reached for an ointment, waving his shirt over his head, reluctantly, all eyes still fixed on Thorin, even as Oín began tending to other wounds. “I did not take the oath, but I was born the same day my father did, his only daughter. There was nothing I wanted more than to please him, for a time, and then I realised I couldn’t. I was only half-elf, and a girl, at that. I hadn’t taken the oath before I realised what it meant, and then, I couldn’t. The Silmarils cost me everything, everyone I loved. How could I vow to return them to a father whose madness only grew?” She finished cleaning the wound, covering it with a gauze, and letting the hatted dwarf pull his shirt back on. Thorin suddenly shot up from where Gandalf was kneeling over him, leaping to his feet just as quickly.

“You! What were you doing!” Thorin’s voice was low, but harsh, and the relief which had flooded Bilbo’s face vanished. “You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say that you would be a burden?” The others hustled, awkwardly, unwilling to interrupt their leader. “That you wouldn’t survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?” Faëlisse watched Gandalf curiously, but the wizard seemed no more comprehending than the rest of them, as the scene unfolded. “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” And suddenly, Thorin’s anger vanished as quickly as Bilbo’s relief had, and he tugged the confused Hobbit into a warm embrace. The other dwarves hummed, happiness scattering through the group, as Thorin continued to converse with the hobbit. As the sun faded, eagles swooping back out of the landscape, all eyes fixed on the distant peak, alone among the flats.

“Erebor.” Gandalf broke the reverent silence. “The Lonely Mountain. Last of the great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

“A raven!” Oín exclaimed, as a bird twittered past, “The birds are returning to the mountain!”

“That, my dear Oín, is a thrush,” Faëlisse corrected, from behind them, making the dwarves jump, peering back at the small figure, enshrouded in darkness, petting the black-feathered owl which had returned to her.

“I will take it as a sign,” Thorin shrugged, turning his eyes back to the mountain, “A good omen.” Faëlisse smothered her doubt, as her optimistically-eyed younger cousin looked forward with the dwarves, pulling out a needle and thread to attend to her torn coat, as the dwarves scattered to set up for the night.

“Faëlisse.” Thorin took a seat beside her, as the others’ loud chatter faded into mountain-rocking snores.

“Thorin,” she answered, turning to the bruised dwarf king. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you and your cousin,” he admitted, nodding, “And the meddling wizard, of course.” “Careful, he is not so deep a sleeper that he will not hear your insults,” she laughed, catching Quessë on her wrist as the small owl swooped back down from the air. “Hello Quessë.” Even as she cooed at the bird, she could feel Thorin’s eyes burning into the side of her head. “You should get some sleep, after all, it takes a lot of energy to almost die.” He hummed back, noncommittally, but his eyes turned away from her anyway, for a moment.

“I’m serious, Thorin,” she urged, pushing him off his perch, towards his bed roll. “You need to sleep. Whatever you wish to say can be discussed in the morning.”

———————

“Thranduil.” Her history with the elven king was nothing if not amicable, so the stout glare he fixed her with now only caused irritation. “Thranduil, Elven King, please, this is madness.” His guards lead the dwarves away even as she spoke, leaving her to stand before him alone.

“Madness?” he questioned, turning his icy eyes back to her as the door clicked shut. “Madness is a quest to reclaim a mountain of accursed gold, from a dragon who has killed as many as Ancagalon the Black!”

“Smaug is barely an ant compared to Ancagalon,” Faëlisse protested, logically. “I have faced dragons more fearsome than this and won. You could help us, and win the favour of Erebor when the time comes that you need it.”

“Need it? You think I need help from these dwarves?” he spat, looming up over the already shorter halfling.

“I know you do!” she snapped back, Quessë eliciting a sharp sound of support. “Mirkwood has returned. Spiders and shadows range your woods as I haven’t seen since Sauron’s death!”

“Enough!” Thranduil growled, as she swiftly dodged his hand. “Take her to a cell.” Elven hands caught her wrists, dragging her backwards, but she slapped them off.

“I can walk on my own,” she snarled, glaring at the young blond. “Legolas, my prince.” She nodded, civilly at him, and kept walking, until he opened a cell door before her, and she stepped in.

“Are you alright?” her cellmate queried, and she looked up into the concerned eyes of her shivering young cousin.

“Indeed I am, Bilbo,” she smiled, pulling off her coat and handing it to him.

“No, you must be freezing,” he disagreed, attempting to hand her back the warm sheepskin.

“I am not cold,” she answered, shaking her head. “I know it is not up to the Baggins taste, but somewhere like this there is little we can do.”

“How are we going to get out of here?” Bilbo asked, finally accepting the jacket, pulling it around his cold shoulders.

“We’ll find a way.”

She grinned as Bilbo held up the keys to the cell, days later.

“I told you the Took blood would come through,” she laughed, quietly, as he set to work retrieving the dwarves from their cells. “This way, to the basement.” “Basement?” Gloin protested, earning himself an immediate shushing. “Why would we go to the basement? We want to get out, not go further in!”

“Because the basement is where the produce which goes to Laketown is kept,” Faëlisse answered, pulling the door open to reveal two sleeping, drunken guards.

“You’re not serious,” Dwalin huffed, staring at the barrels before him in dismay.

“Barrel rides,” she grinned back, mischievously, earning Kili and Fili’s smiles. “It’ll be fun!”

“This is not fun,” Ori whimpered, as an Orc arrow landed in the wood between his fingers.

“Get down,” Faëlisse scolded, pushing the young dwarf’s head into cover. “Those arrows are poisoned.”

“Kili!” she growled, sending the arrow at his eye-level into flames, “Get your head down. We cannot hit them from here, just wait until we get past.” He grumbled something about her being no fun, but ducked his head down anyway, still trying to remove the vision of the Orc’s arrow from before his eyes.

“I said stay in cover!” she snarled, shoving Kili behind her, growling out a curse as the arrow aimed for him clipped into her thigh. Kili’s returning arrow hit the Orc in the eye, knocking him backwards.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, worriedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t–“ “Shh, Aiwë (small bird), it’s fine,” she assured him, turning back as Balin spoke to the bow-wielding Bard. “Bard!” The dark bargeman looked over to her, in surprise, suspicion softening.

“Faëlisse.” His eyes darkened at her wound. “You are injured.”

“I am,” she agreed, as a hum of worry rang through the dwarves. “But that is not the point. It has been too long, dear friend.”

“Too long indeed,” he nodded, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. “How did you end up with these dwarves?”

“I offered them my assistance,” she answered, shrugging, turning back to the group. “Bard, this is the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Everyone, this is Bard. And your weapons are in one of those barrels.” She gestured vaguely at the fifteen soggy, half-smashed barrels on the shore, and the dwarves turned to them, excitedly.

“Way to win favour,” Bard laughed, shaking his head at her. “Always full of surprises.” “Indeed, how are Sígrid and Bain? Little Tilda?” she continued, fondly remembering the three young children.

“Very well, but they will be better for seeing you,” Bard replied, looking down at her.

“I am afraid I do not come without the company,” she said, shaking her head. “And they will be more difficult to get into Laketown. And more dangerous for you to harbour.” “I have my barge,” Bard offered, reluctantly eyeing up the dwarves and hobbit. “Get back in your barrels and I can take you. Faëlisse, you can stay out – your leg will only be worse for movement, and the Master welcomes you.”

“I know my way around a wound,” Faëlisse muttered, pulling the fresh bandages tighter around her leg, “But at this point, I almost wish it had taken me longer to heal.” She stared out at the dismal, dark sky of Laketown, offering Tauriel one last hug goodbye, before limping a little out the door.

“You should stay here and mend, lass,” Balin told her, once again, as she boarded the boat, Tilda crying into her sister’s shoulder. “The children will miss you.” “I do not see anyone else here who has faced down a dragon and won, Balin,” she answered, tugging her brown hair back into a ponytail. “A daughter of Feanör must use her curse as a gift.” Her skin crackled, charring around her fingertips, and Balin nodded, sighing.

“It does not make you invincible,” Oin grumbled, appearing behind them.

“No, but it does make me impervious to the dragon’s flames,” she grinned back, eyes glinting with challenge.

———————

Smaug exited the mountain, enraged, already spitting flames at the desolated land.

“No!” Faëlisse snarled, vaulting from her ledge on the mountain’s edge, sending the dwarves bellowing after her. “She’s on him!” Fili breathed, excitedly.

“She’s on him!” Ori choked, horrified.

“She is literally riding a dragon,” Kili whooped, jumping up and down. “Oh, no.” Flames never reaching so far as Dale, before they circled upwards, around him, Smaug took a sudden turn downwards, spiralling towards the city. “She’s crashing a dragon.” A sudden force tugged him aside with a fiery flash, and two figures dropped from the sky.

“No, no, no!” Bard growled, tossing aside his bow, as Bain stared into the sky, horror tinging his young face. The two of them belted down the stairs of the watchtower, racing for the river on the outskirts of town. “Why was she riding the bloody dragon?”

He arrived at the river at the same time as the Company, Smaug’s huge body overshadowing the site.

“Why was she…I didn’t think she’d be–“ None of the dwarves replied, staring in horror at the unmoving surface of the lake.

“What are you staring at?” Tilda’s voice questioned, innocently, searching for something more interesting than the fallen dragon.

“Whatever it is, can you stop?” Sigrid continued, huffing, “She needs a medic.” They all looked over at the two girls. Three girls. Faëlisse was sitting beside Sigrid, blinking dazedly.

“That was a nice shot, Bard,” she mumbled, dizzily, before slumping backwards into the mud.

“Faë!” Tilda screamed, scrambling for the halfling, as the others hurried over, Oín and Gandalf quickly settling by her side.

———————

“And here I thought my cousin was wrong when he told me you had traded your honour for treasure. Elves and orcs stand on your doorstep,” Faëlisse said, voice echoing decisively through the stone hall, as she and Dwalin thrust open the doors to the throne room. “Your cousin Dain is set to arrive and plunge into a battle you will not even look upon. You just betrayed Bilbo’s trust, and mine, and your Company’s. And you sit upon the throne as though you deserve it.”

“Silence!” Thorin growled, jumping to his feet, “If you wish to join the traitor, I can throw you from the battlements as well.”

“Go on, then,” she dared him, eyes flashing, “Touch me and you will lose your hand, king or not.”

“You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head,” Dwalin spat, “And yet you are lesser now than you have ever been.”

“Go. Before I kill you,” Thorin growled back. She could see the pain in his eyes, behind the hatred, the confusion. She could see him hearing his own voice but not recognising the words. The two of them stalked out, but she paused in the doorway, earning Dwalin’s questioning gaze. She waved him forward, and he hesitated, until she shoved him on his way.

“You know the worst thing about all this?” Faëlisse’s voice was unshakable, sharper than any blade. “I thought you deserved this throne, once. I fought to put you upon it, to put my faith in you over the advice of my family, of my age-old allies and friends. We fought to put you upon it. And you stand before us as though it is a birthright you had no help in claiming.” She stormed back down the hall, snatching Orcrist from his belt, before dancing back out of reach. “You are worthy of your grandfather’s crown, sure enough, but not of Ecthelion’s blade.” She slammed the door behind her, and ran, blindly, tears scorning her cheeks, tracing the familiar path back to the battlements.

“I am going to fight,” she interrupted the dwarves’ debate, hanging Orcrist on the wall beside the others’ weapons. Not a word was spoken. “Farewell, my friends.” She trapped each of them into a tearful hug, as they stared at her, uncomprehending.

“But, Thorin said–“ Ori began, but she shook her head.

“He is not my king,” she told him, sadly, “And he is not the same person I grew to love.” She gave the young dwarf a quick peck on the cheek, swinging her legs over the battlements. As she was grabbed by the arms from either side.

“Wait! Faëlisse, no, you can’t just…” Kili trailed off, still gripping her right arm tightly.

“You can’t just go,” Fili continued for him, from her other side. Both of them held their grip resolutely as she tried to shake it off.

“I can and I am,” she replied, carefully working to pry their resisting fingers from her arms, “I have a responsibility for Bilbo, and a duty to myself. Thorin has fallen as far as my father did – I will not watch that again.” Fili paused, but released her, as Dwalin laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll come back, though?” hke whispered, voice shaking a little.

“I just stole your Uncle’s precious sword,” she laughed, bitterly. “He will not have me back. I will write, so will Bilbo. You have my word.” Kili’s eyes tore between her and his brother, face falling further if possible, but he let her go.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing each of the brothers on the forehead. “I love you. So does Thorin. He will come back to you, I am sure of it. Your place is in your home, in Erebor. My place can no longer be here, even if it tears my heart.” Then she dropped, swinging on the rope Bilbo had slid down, and somersaulting to her feet. She paused, at the bottom, and waved to them, before disappearing into Thranduil’s tent.

“Faëlisse,” Gandalf breathed, as she entered. “Are you alright?”

“Unharmed,” she replied, dusting herself off.

“But...Faë,” Bilbo protested, quietly, staring, shell shocked at his cousin. “You love him.”

“I stole his precious Orcrist from his very belt, Bilbo,” she laughed, even as tears melted from her eyes. “And told him he was not worthy of Ecthelion’s blade. I called him his grandfather. My place was no longer in Erebor. But I will fight to defend it, if I must.” This last she said with a pointed look into Thranduil’s cold, blue eyes.

“You think I fear a halfling who was foolish enough to fall for that dwarven scum?” the Elven King scoffed, his head snapping back with a loud crack as her fist slammed across his face. Tauriel leapt into a defensive position, fending off any further attacks, but Faëlisse had already turned away.

“At least he has a heart when he is in his right mind,” she told him, spitting at his feet. “You know what I am capable of, Thranduil. And it will bring me no joy, but I will burn your entire army to the ground if I must.”

“Faëlisse,” Gandalf rumbled, warningly.

“There will be no need,” Bard assured her, with a warning glare at Thranduil. “We are far from the greatest danger to the mountain.”

“Azog,” Faëlisse agreed, the white warg’s howl curdling her blood.

“Will you follow me, one last time?” Thorin’s voice cracked as spoke, but the Company only nodded, reaching for their weapons. He reached back, pulling Orcrist from the walls, scanning the 13 faces before him.

“Where is Faëlisse?” They froze in their movements, faces filled with guilt and worry.

“She followed her cousin,” Fili piped up, bravely. “As we should.”

———————

“And here I thought you could fight your own battles, agrecthion (despised)?” She emerged from behind the burning catapult, black blade drawn.

“Ah, the line of Feanör ends at last,” Azog rumbled back, stumbling to his feet again.

“It is well past our time,” she smirked back, with a shrug. “But Coivë-antë (Life-Giver; name of her blade) has yet to fail me.” She would at least leave him with another scar.

———————

“No!” Tauriel snatched Fili’s wrist as he tumbled, a long gash running across his chest, and Faëlisse swung her blade at Azog, making the white orc simply growl, as though she were a mere nuisance. Fili stumbled forward again as Azog disappeared from sight, back into the hill.

“Fili,” Faëlisse fretted, hurrying to the blond prince. “Are you alright?”

“I am,” he nodded, looking to Tauriel. “Thank you, Captain.” Tauriel just nodded, with a gentle smile, catching the blond prince as he swayed.

“I have to go,” Faëlisse said, hurriedly. “Tauriel, can you make sure he makes it back to the Mountain?”

“Yes, but where are you going?” the elf queried, beginning to lead Fili down the stairs. “You cannot just face him alone.”

“Ravenhill,” Faëlisse answered, before springing from the window the same way Azog had, landing in a snowdrift on the nearby hill, and disappearing.

She was silent as she pounced, tackling Azog to the ground.

“I told you,” she growled, tearing her dagger across his chest as he wrestled her off. “You have to go through me.” Azog tossed the smaller creature aside, leaving Kili in his wounded pile to the side, and facing Thorin again.

“Pathetic.” His voice echoed over the battlefield. “Your halfling girlfriend fights for you.”

“I am no one’s,” Faëlisse snapped, dragging herself to her injured feet, still swaying. “And I have fought for longer than even the King Under the Mountain.” Azog scoffed, knocking her unsteady form aside as she approached him again. Tauriel was out of his line of sight as she appeared, reaching for her fallen dwarf. As the second prince disappeared from the battlefield Faëlisse felt her chest lighten a little, before Azog decided she would stay down this time, satisfied by the blood pooling in the snow around her, and turned back to Thorin.

Thorin stood on the ice, panting.

“Move!” Faëlisse yelled, urgently. “You have to–“ Azog’s sword emerged from the pond, slicing through Thorin’s foot, followed by the Orc himself, turning his blade on Thorin as he stumbled backwards. Faëlisse staggered to her feet and leapt forwards, throwing all of her small body against the Orc, knocking him back. She felt his blade sink into her stomach, but she pushed again, harder, and he fell back, losing his grip on the blade. She pulled it from her stomach, sinking to her knees from the pain, but sliced it across the exhausted orc’s knees anyway, separating his lower legs from his scarred body. Azog screamed in pain, collapsing over the edge of the hill as Faëlisse’s vision faded to black and she fell forwards into the snow.

“Faëlisse!” Tauriel’s voice was the last thing she heard, Thorin’s shocked, horrified gaze the last thing she felt.

Tauriel snatched her friend from the ground, embedding her hand over the wound to stem some bleeding, as the dwarf king stared, hopelessly.

“Can you get yourself back to the Mountain?” she asked, looking down at the fallen dwarf, blood seeping from his foot and various other wounds. “Or shall I send someone to fetch you?”

“I...can walk,” Thorin answered, clambering to his feet and limping after her. “Why did she do that?” The elf in front of him scoffed, shaking her head.

“Why do you think?” she challenged, not slowing her fast pace.

“I treated her poorly the last time I saw her,” Thorin continued, lost in his thoughts. “I treated all of them so poorly. And they followed me into battle.”

“You are their king,” she told him. “But, first and foremost, you are their friend.” The room was flooded with elves – from Mirkwood, from Rivendell.

———————

“Tauriel!” One of the brunet elves Faëlisse had called her brothers appeared, as they entered the infirmary the mountain had become. “Where’s Faë?” He darted through the crowd, managing to clear his view to fix his eyes on the limp halfling in Tauriel’s arms. He snarled an Elven curse, before turning back into the crowd, leading Tauriel after him, with Thorin staggering to keep up.

“Adar!” Elrohir summoned, urgently, making Elrond look up from bandaging Fili’s wounds. He leaped to his feet, shouting to one of the other Elven healers nearby, and gesturing to Tauriel to lay her down. Her face was deathly pale as breaths struggled through her lips, blood seeping out with each one. He pressed his hands to the wound, with a shout behind him, sending Lindir bustling over with a needle and thread.

“Faë,” the elf minstrel choked, kneeling down beside her, as Elrond began to stitch the wound.

“Fetch Mithrandir,” Elrond ordered Elrohir, “Then find your brother and keep Estel out of here.” Elrohir nodded, a last lingering glance over Faëlisse’s still form, before he vanished back into the crowds of people.

“Lord Elrond, your son–“ Gandalf’s words cut off, abruptly, and Thorin watched in horror at the first time he had seen the wizard rendered speechless. What he had hoped to cause as a triumph now settled deep into his soul as the signature on her death warrant. Gandalf knelt beside the two elves, as Elrond finished stitching, resting his hands over the wound.

“We need Radagast,” he breathed, looking back at the elves, fear written across his face.

“Radagast is in Rhosgobel!” Lindir protested, wildly. “He will not get here in time.”

“Where is Quessë?” Gandalf demanded, turning to Thorin and Tauriel as they stood above the scene.

“I...she flew away.” Thorin scanned his memory, finding only the mess of black feathers which shot past his face as Faëlisse pounced on the white orc.

“No,” Gandalf muttered, sinking back to his knees, casting his eyes over the friend who had stood beside him for longer than any other, “No. She can’t have.” He jumped to his feet, barging past the mismatched pair that stood at be bedside, prickling at one another’s presence. If the shorter wizard hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve stormed directly into him.

“Radagast,” he breathed, eyes catching the brown wizard. “How did you–“

“Animals are better eyes than people.” He looked past, expression falling grave, fixing on Faëlisse. He knelt beside her, as Thorin wondered how many more people would kneel beside her and do nothing. Laying his hand over her wound, he whispered in an ancient language, Quessë and the hedgehog snuffling into her curly brown hair, chirruping quietly. Faëlisse’s eyes flickered open, recognising Radagast’s form learning over her.

“Radagast?” she breathed, meeting the wizard’s worried brown eyes as he looked up at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Quessë fetched me,” he answered, earning a proud chirp from the tiny owl. “Good thing, too. Gundabad blades are nasty things.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me,” she sighed, as Sebastian moved to curl up on her chest. She looked up, catching sight of Thorin and Tauriel standing over her.

“You two should really see a healer,” she commented, vaguely, taking in the various lacerations scattered across their forms, and the single foot Thorin balanced on. “You scored a pretty rough blade to the foot, Your Majesty.” Thorin almost winced at the formality, but did not have the chance, as the two other injured were hustled away to be tended.

———————

“Shh, shh, its alright, Raurion,” she soothed, reaching for the trembling heir as he shot up in the night. Fili stared at her, eyes wide, then sank back into her shoulder as she clutched him to her. “You’re safe.” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as her fingers threaded through his knotted hair. “I’m sorry irak’amad.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Raurion.” She leant forwards, pulling her blanket up around Fili. “The most hardened warriors have battle dreams. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“What happened to your arms?” he asked, suddenly, as the white, ridged scars on her forearms glowed lighter in the moonlight, and he recalled the ridges he had felt when he had untied her from the battlement.

“I fought myself,” she replied, voice shaking, as she tightened her arms around him. “I fought myself in a way which no one should. Don’t ever, Fili. You are far too loved for that.” She felt a tear that wasn’t her own splatter onto her arm, but she only leant back against the cold stone behind her, a soft hum rising from her chest.

“You are too loved for that, also, irak’amad,” Fili said, after a long pause, breaking through her humming. She smiled, softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

“Thank you, Raurion.”

“Kili, Kili. You’re safe, Aiwë.” She felt Fili stir, and shift off her, both of them reaching for the crying prince. “It’s just Faë, and Fili.” She clutched him to her as she had his brother, as Fili watched, gripping his little brother’s hands firmly.

“I don’t know what I’m snivelling about,” Kili offered, attempting to wipe away his tears. “I did not see the worst of it.”

“You have the right to remember,” Faëlisse told him, firmly. “You both do. The right to remember, the right to cry, the right to be scared. There is no weakness in fear or in memory. And there is no weakness in seeking help.” She opened her arms a little, and Fili joined the huddle, bringing the warm blanket with him, warding out the chill.

“It seems the lass has adopted yer nephews, ye miserable ol’ bastard.” Dwalin’s voice woke her the next morning, and she fluttered her green eyes open to catch sight of the whole company gazing down upon them. Kili and Fili were each tucked under one arm, with the blanket tightly wrapped around the three of them. Seeing that they were still asleep, she fixed her glare on the loud warrior, earning him a nudge from his brother, and the instruction to be quiet. Thorin limped over from the other side of the room, and she avoided his light eyes, leaning back again and begging for sleep to return.

“Well, can’t say I blame them,” Thorin muttered, with a wry smile, careful not to raise his voice any louder than it needed to be. “I’d prefer someone with some sense and kindness over a gold-sick fool.” Muffled laughter drifted through the company, tinged with relief, as Dwalin slapped Thorin on the shoulder.

“Estel! Faë is sick, don’t wake her.” Faëlisse lifted her head as Elladan’s familiar voice carried into the room, following quick footsteps.

“No, no, I’m awake,” she whispered, smiling up at them. “You can only come in if you’re really quiet, rovén-hén. Will you go back to sleep?” Estel nodded, obediently, clambering into the pile, and curling up on her lap, in the small gap between the slumbering young dwarves. Elladan shook his head, looking down at the pile of sleeping bodies.

“Made to mother.” Elladan grinned, and padded out of the room, calling over his shoulder. “Adar will want to check your wounds soon.”

———————

“Estel!” Kili cooed as he woke, the rest of the company having drifted out of the room. “I didn’t know you were here. How do you like Erebor?”

“It’s huge!” Estel exclaimed, bouncing up and down in Faëlisse’s lap. “And really pretty! But it made Amalsain (new mother) sick.”

“That was not Erebor, rovén-hén,” Faëlisse chuckled, ruffling the little boy’s hair with her now-freed hand. He immediately perked up, smiling again.

“I like it then!” he declared, happily.

“Alright, sweet as this is,” Elrohir declared, entering beside his father, “You’re gonna have to break it up so we can check you.” Kili, Fili, and Faëlisse all groaned, reluctantly shuffling apart, each of them frantically reaching for a warm blanket or coat from their pile, much to the amusement of the watching dwarves. Elrohir knelt beside Fili, Lindir beside Kili, and Elrond beside Faëlisse, with Estel still clinging to her side.

“Any pain in the night?” Elrond asked, as she pulled her shirt up to reveal the wound, making Faëlisse laugh.

“You mean other than the pain of my internal organs restitching themselves, right?” she teased, making Elrond roll his eyes.

“Ew,” Estel complained, wrinkling up his nose. “That’s gross, Amalsain.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Fili agreed, as Elrohir cleared him with a simple bandage change.

“Did you sleep?” Elrond continued with his questions, swallowing his amusement at the two young boys with the bitter appearance of the hole in Faëlisse’s abdomen.

“Of course, I had two very effective dwarf prince heat packs,” she answered, earning a playful punch from Fili, “I am a firm believer in the theory that warmth and hugs ease any pain.”

“And here I thought you were just being kind.” Fili feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“I feel used,” Kili joked, also joining them.

“Well, what can I say?” she grinned back, wincing as Elrond gently cleaned the wound.

“Oi, give the lass some space,” Dwalin commanded, trundling back into the hall. “Bombur’s busy in the kitchen if yer gonna come ’n ‘ave breakfast.” Kili perked at that, and Lindir grabbed him before he could follow Estel in leaping to his feet.

“You literally got stabbed yesterday,” the elf minstrel scolded, “And your leg is broken. Take it slowly.” Kili pouted, but rose more demurely, as Elrohir helped Fili to his feet.

“All you Durins and your troublesome legs,” Faëlisse teased, as both of them limped around for a moment, finding their bearings on their injuries.

“Oh, says the girl whose stomach was punctured,” Kili retorted, poking his tongue out at her.

“Your foot is injured as well,” Fili pointed out, gesturing to the bandaged limb.

“Sprained.” Elrond answered her questioning look, as she noticed the source of her sore foot for the first time.

“At least it’ll heal faster than your insides,” Dwalin offered, sniggering, as he reached over to help her up, as the elves packed away their things.

———————

“Bombur, you have truly excelled,” Faëlisse told the red-head dwarf, as she limped into the kitchen with a stack of emptied plates. “I could not be sadder that the hole in my stomach decreased my appetite a little.” Bombur blushed as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, with a smile.

“Thank you, Faë,” he murmured, smiling, as she filled a bucket with warm, soapy water from the cauldron over the fire. “It was my amad’s recipe. She was such a fabulous cook.”

“And you would make her proud everyday,” she assured him, plonking the plates into the tub. “Go and have fun. Send one of those other slackers in to dry for me, you have done so much this morning already.” He guffawed at that, bustling out the door, leaving the kitchen to fall into silence. Moments passed, then the huge, wooden door clipped open again, and uneven footsteps crossed the floor. Thorin came into sight, without saying a word, picking up a drying towel and one of the plates.

“Thank you,” she said, tightly, quickening her previously lazy scrubbing.

“No need to rush just because I am here,” he told her, noticing the increased pace. “I already have quite a backlog to get through.”

“Perhaps it is not for your benefit that I hurry,” she replied, almost under her breath. He paused his movement, for just a moment, then continued.

“That would be… understandable,” he conceded, after a time, lapsing back into the tense silence he had entered in.

“You must have come in here for a reason, Your Majesty,” Faëlisse demanded, eventually, as she removed the last plate from the sink. “You are their king, you are one of the worst injured among us. Anyone else could be here.”

“Perhaps I wanted to help,” Thorin attempted, weakly. She didn’t deign that with a reply, other than to turn away and pick up another drying towel. “Or…perhaps I came because I knew you were avoiding me.”

“Mahal, I wonder why ever that might be,” she snapped back, taking all of her self-restraint not the slam the last plate down.

“Faëlisse, I… you–“

“I know that what I did could be called treasonous. I know that you can punish me with exile, Thorin,” she snarled, slamming her down and clenching them around the carved stone until her knuckles whitened. “But I am injured, and, quite frankly, I would not make it back to Imladris, even with Adar and the others tending me. Now, do you see? I am selfish. Self-preserving. I do not want to die from a wound inflicted while I acted in defence of my banisher. I do not want to die knowing that it is because the person I foolishly let myself fall in love with simply did not care for me once he had his precious mountain back!” She tossed the towel over her shoulder and stormed out, as well as she could with her foot screaming, and blood seeping from the reopened stitches in her stomach. Lindir met her at the door, wrapping her in a tight embrace, shielding her from the gaze of the dwarves, though she didn’t miss the horrified expressions written across Fili, Kili, Estel, and her brothers’ faces.

“Oh, Faë,” Linder comforted her, “Come on, we’ll get you patched up.” Elrond followed behind as she was led away from the kitchens.

“What in Mahal did you do?” Thorin was still staring, blankly, at the door, when Kili and Fili burst in, closely followed by Dwalin and Balin attempting to pull them back. “You would banish her after she saved our lives?” His nephews stood before him, seething, and he could see the shadow of Dis within them both in that instant.

“I didn’t…she just…” he stumbled over his words, leaning back against the counter. “She thinks I do not care for her.”

“Yeah, that’s the least of our problems!” Fili snapped, angrily, “She thinks you intend to banish her! I thought you came in here to fix things. I would’ve done it instead if I thought you would make it worse!”

“I didn’t say anything about banishing her!” Thorin yelled back, making the others’ eyes widen. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Why is she so upset with me?”

“What?” Kili questioned, incredulity lacing his tone. “Why is she so– Mahal, you don’t remember.” Realisation dawned over him, and he stepped back, running a hand over his face. “You don’t remember.” The four faces in the room stared at him, dark-eyed.

“What happened?” He mumbled it at first, then stepped forward, raising his voice. “What happened!”

“You almost killed Bilbo.” Dwalin’s voice was quieter than any of them had heard it before. “And then you almost killed her for defending him.” Thorin stumbled back the single step he had taken, sinking against the counter, but his cousin hadn’t finished. “You cut her sleeves off, took her coat and boots, and tied her to a ledge on one of the battlements in just her dress, and sat guard yourself for a night, to ensure she stayed there the whole time.”

“Once she was freed, the Orcs had already arrived,” Balin continued where his brother had left off. “She and Dwalin went down to your court to call you once more, after she’d recovered. She was damn near hypothermic. You told Dwalin to leave before you killed him. She stayed, and–“ “I remember that,” Thorin cut him off, voice hoarse. “And I must make another apology to you, Dwalin. You have been more than loyal, better than any friend I could ask for, and I treated you like that. I am so sorry.”

“I have put it in the past,” Dwalin grumbled back, gesturing to the door, “I am not the one who fears banishment.”

———————

Faëlisse wandered up the height of the battlements, then clambered up the short gap to the ledge which jutted from near the mountain’s peak, closed off from internal access by a collapse. The battlefield was still scattered with bodies, and three tents stood proudly amongst them – Thranduil’s, Dain’s, and Bard’s. Dain did not need his tent – after all, he was cousin to the king, and would be staying in the mountain. But he insisted it stand, simply to spite Thranduil, whose tent was smaller. A few figures picked through the battlefield, carrying the bodies to their appropriate place. She twisted one of her blades in her hands, running her fingers along its delicate edge. The view was scarred by the battle, as the harsh sunlight glared down on the truths. She slipped off her coat, eying the long, white, ridges which had stood unchanged for more than a year, and could almost have laughed at herself. Breaking such a streak over the King Under the Mountain.

“Irak’amad.” Fili’s voice made her jump from her thoughts, guiltily jerking the knife away from herself, as he appeared beside her. “It’s cold up here. Put your coat back on–“ He ran his hands over her bare arms, gently prying the knife away and tucking it into its sheath on her belt. “You’re freezing! I brought a blanket, and a Kili… and an Estel.” He crossed to her other side, letting Kili squish in on the side closest to the descent. He wrapped the blanket around the three of them, and Estel grinned, burrowing in to sit on her lap, recreating the morning’s position. They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, just watching the busyness below, before Kili spoke.

“He doesn’t remember.” Faëlisse turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Fili shifted closer, turning so that he was facing in across the group, freeing up her arm.

“Thorin, he doesn’t remember when he threw Bilbo out,” Kili reiterated, bluntly. Faëlisse scoffed, bitterly.

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Faëlisse scoffed, bitterly.

“Me either,” Kili admitted, lapsing back into silence, as Estel snuggled into Faëlisse, already asleep in her lap.

“He’s not going to banish you, Faë,” Fili picked up in his brother’s silence. “He…is not the most tactful.” Faëlisse and Kili both snorted, eliciting a wry smile from the blond heir. “But he loves you. I would never ask you to forgive his actions – I don’t think I ever will – but…could you let him offer an apology before you go?”

“Go?” she questioned, looking back at him. “I thought you said he wasn’t going to banish me.”

“He’s not, but…I thought, once you were better, you’d want to…” Fili hesitated, bewildered.

“He thought he was giving out a punishment befitting a crime,” she murmured, thoughtfully, staring out over the plains again. “Even if he was wrong…”

Kili and Fili darted on and off the ledge for the rest of the morning, but she stayed, Estel asleep in her lap until the afternoon, when he too scampered down the descent, reappearing moments to inform her that Bombur had made lunch. She drifted, warily, into the small dining hall outside the kitchen, immediately being summoned into a seat with Elladan and Elrohir on one side, and Estel and Bilbo on the other. Lindir, Elrond, and Bombur sat in the other nearby seats, Gandalf and Radagast having disappeared earlier in the day. The meal passed uneventfully, with Bofur’s jokes earning laughter from even Thorin, before the topic fell to her. Dain had not joined them for breakfast, having eaten early and left to tend to his men.

“Are you going to introduce me to the young lass?” he asked, eventually, catching sight of her brown locks beside Bilbo’s.

“My cousin, Faëlisse,” Bilbo piped up, with a warm smile at the Dwarven king of the Iron Hills.

“Our irak-amad,” Fili grinned, mischievously, earning a glare from Thorin, and a surprised snort from Dain, as he lapsed into Khûzdul to speak to his cousin.

“Will you be staying in Erebor, Miss Faëlisse?” Dain queried, catching Thorin’s sharp elbow before it could hit his stomach.

“Forgive me, my Lord Dain,” she answered, with a careful smile, “But I am not sure of my welcome. I hope to stay until I am healed.”

“You are welcome here for as long as you wish,” Thorin assured her, hurriedly. “I would not have any member of the company who won our home back turned away.” She smiled, again, more warmly.

“Then perhaps I shall see whether I am wanted or needed,” she rephrased, looking back at Dain. “I have lived too long to waste time where I am doing no good.”

“A wise principle,” Dain agreed, sagely, but she didn’t miss his eyes flickering to the elves at the end of the table. “But I would almost expect it from the mouth of an elf.”

“Well, I am half-elven,” Faëlisse stated, coldly, “So perhaps that is not so far from accurate.” Dain couldn’t help it, as his head flicked between her and Thorin, half-whispering to his cousin in Khûzdul.

“I did not see you or your people offering aid in our expedition!” Kili snapped, eventually, even as Thorin gestured for his silence.

“Actually I recall your courtiers calling it an ultimate folly,” Fili continued, glaring at the red-haired ruler.

“Aiwë, Raurion, that is enough,” Faëlisse commanded, limping up to their end of the table, “I can see that my Lord Dain disapproves of elves as much as his cousin. Perhaps, my Lord, you would take that argument up with me, or at least, in a language I speak fluently. Khûzdul has never been shared with me.”

“You call even Dwarven princes in that tongue?” Dain demanded.

“You would tell me they dislike it on their behalf?” she challenged, getting up into the seated king’s face, at his eye level. “I do not think it is your business who the princes of Erebor interact with, or how. You are neither their father nor their uncle. You did not even bother to consult them when you discussed their home with their uncle, and now you think you can speak for them in their friendships?” Dain hauled himself to his feet, towering over her, but she didn’t so much as flinch. “I have faced Morgoth, Sauron, Azog, even my own brothers. You will not intimidate me with mere size, tele-falch kanuina.”

“What did you call me?” Dain asked, anger fading into genuine bewilderment, as Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel burst into uncontrolled laughter.

“Ass-crack of lead.” She said it with an entirely straight face, looking Dain directly in his brown eyes. The dwarf stared at her for a moment, then his face split into a broad smile.

“Ass-crack of lead?” he guffawed, clapping her on the shoulder. “Oh, my dear, the last time I heard something like that, the man turned around and begged for forgiveness after learning I was a king.”

“I am afraid that I was already aware,” Faëlisse informed him, as the whole table eyed Dain, tensely quizzical.

“That is what makes it better,” Dain answered, taking his seat again. “You are made for my cousin. Erebor could not ask for a better queen.” Thorin elbowed him before he could catch it this time, shaking his head, a mortified blush rising to both his cheeks and hers.

“What have you been calling me?” she hissed at Thorin’s nephews.

“Auntie,” Fili grinned back, and she groaned, turning to meet Thorin’s eyes, awkwardly, as Dain laughed between them, apparently pleased with his matchmaking efforts.

“I mean…” Thorin muttered, hesitantly, “He’s not wrong that Erebor could not find a better queen. That I could not find a better queen.”

“You’re saying this now.” Faëlisse folded her arms. “Here?”

“You’d prefer I didn’t say it?” he asked, smiling softly. “I am so sorry, amrâlimê. I treated you deplorably.”

“Oh no, not the eyes,” she sighed, squinting against his power. “You’re right. You thought it was punishment for a crime, but you were wrong. It was deplorable.” She turned away from him, then glanced back at his worried face, before glaring over at Kili and Fili. “You two started this.”

“Oh, come on, irak-amad,” Kili grinned.

“I even gave you a way out,” Fili agreed, “I said you didn’t have to forgive him, that I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re the one who pointed out the crime and punishment thing.” She huffed at them, then turned on her heel, looking back at Thorin.

“Thorin, I…” she stammered, looking him in the eye as they perched on the battlements. “There are some things we need to discuss before we go any further with this.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, hesitantly. “I must apologise for…everything, really.”

“Thorin, please,” she murmured, shaking her head, eyes fixed on the floor. “You haven’t even been looked at me for weeks. You hung me from your battlements. You almost killed my cousin. And all for a rock. Now, Gandalf has the Arkenstone–“

“Gandalf has it?” Thorin growled, leaping to his feet. She stepped back from him, and he froze, staring at her in horror. The room around them was silent, even as hands fixed themselves on weapons.

“You can’t be surprised after what you’ve done,” she told him, coldly. “If Gandalf returns it, I want you to let Dwalin destroy it.”

“Destroy the Arkenstone…” Thorin muttered, his eyes dark. “After all this.”

“Thorin, either it stays here, destroyed, or Gandalf takes it,” Faëlisse said, stepping back further, clenching her sword tightly. “And me with it.”

“And us,” Kili and Fili murmured, behind her. “There is no point having this mountain if you would handle the throne the same way it was handled when it was lost.” Thorin looked up at them, the darkness fading from him, as he stared around at the agreeing faces.

“Thorin,” she whispered, tears clinging to her cheeks. “Please. I don’t want to do this without you.” He stepped towards her, instinctively, but she only drew her blade, holding it between them, shakily. The room held its breath, even as Dain pressed his own blade on Faëlisse’s, lowering them both, slowly, he made no move to prevent her from lifting it again.

“The Arkenstone has done Erebor no good, cousin,” he advised, from his seat. “A Queen would.”

“Dwalin, destroy it,” Thorin commanded, eventually, nodding to Dwalin. The warrior stood, and Gandalf handed him the stone, and he disappeared from the room. Thorin took a seat, sighing deeply.

“You have to see what it does to you, Thorin,” Faëlisse breathed, sheathing her sword again. “Gold sickness changes you, and that Arkenstone is the source of it. Erebor cannot have a king who will not spend even a single coin in his management of the kingdom.”

“I am not my grandfather,” he ground out, glaring up at her.

“Then don’t act like him, Thorin!” She raised her voice, gesturing at him. “You sat in your throne room for weeks refusing us any rest as we searched for your precious Arkenstone. You almost killed my cousin and me. You left Kili and Fili in Laketown alone! He would have died if it wasn’t for Tauriel and me! And you left! You walked out Bard’s door as if he was nothing to you, not the precious nephew who’s photo you wear on that chain! If you are not your grandfather then do not act like him!” She stormed out of the room, her footsteps silent even in her rage, brushing off Elrond and Lindir as they reached for her, as Elladan held Estel back.

“Don’t you dare follow her,” Fili growled, matching his uncle’s movements as they stood. “You haven’t the right to see her after whatever that just was.”

Dwalin re-entered, the shards of silver stone gripped tightly in his palm.

“Give them to Gandalf,” Thorin commanded, a sudden wave of inspiration washing over him. “They will be set into gifts for our allies.” The room stared at him, as though he had gone even more insane. “I cannot have it’s remains in my kingdom, I have proven that well enough.”

��——————

“Irak’amad!” Kili called out to her, practically bouncing up with his brother, weeks later. Elrond had left almost two weeks ago, taking Estel with him – though he assured her it was temporary – and all their injuries were almost completely healed. Quessë had returned, and remained happily on her shoulder wherever she went. Balin followed more slowly after the brothers.

“Aiwë, Raurion,” she answered, happily. “What are these?”

“Crowns!” Kili answered, eagerly, passing her an intricate silver piece, inlaid with the glimmering white stone. “The silver will be for King Thranduil,” Fili elaborated, holding up two more similar crowns, “The gold for King Bard and the copper for King Dain.”

“And the ring is for Lord Elrond,” Kili added. “They’re made from the Arkenstone.” She almost dropped the crown she was holding, looking up at them both.

“Your uncle is intending to give part of the Arkenstone to Thranduil?” she questioned, incredulously.

“It seems so,” Balin nodded, almost as disbelievingly as her.

“And…he – and we – had a request,” Fili continued, nervously.

“Indeed?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Well, Thorin cannot go himself,” Balin started, and she nodded, realisation sinking in.

“I would be happy to accompany the princes,” she assured him, happily, ruffling Kili’s hair.

“He was hoping you would accompany them as regent of the crown,” Balin clarified, her face immediately falling. “Kili is travelling to Mirkwood with the intention not only of passing on the gift, but with a proposal for the Captain of the Guard.” Her face brightened immediately, and she grinned.

“Can Fili not be the ambassador to the crown?” she asked, despite her smile.

“Well, I can, but…” Fili conceded, almost pouting.

“But you’re proposing this to me for Thorin,” she finished, shaking her head at him, and ruffling his hair. “I will discuss this with him.” She placed a kiss on Fili’s golden brow, and on Kili’s. “Will you accompany me, Balin?”

“It would be an honour,” Balin replied, laughing a little, as the two set off towards the throne room, gathering the jewels from the princes’ hands.

“Thorin,” she greeted him, warmly, placing a gently kiss on his cheek. “I see you have been busy.”

“I needed to get rid of the Arkenstone, and it seemed only fitting that it finally did some good for the kingdom it has done so much harm to,” he nodded, as Balin returned the precious pieces to their proper places.

“I also heard you wanted a second regent of the crown on the trip,” she added, as Thorin took a seat beside her on the steps leading to the throne. Balin hurried to excuse himself, and vanished from the room, with the quiet thump of the door to the throne room.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured, thoughtfully, “I would…appreciate such.” “And you truly think I would be the most appropriate candidate?” she queried, looking him directly in the eye.

“No one, except perhaps Balin, matches your diplomatic skill,” Thorin agreed, maintaining her gaze. “And…well…if you were to accept my proposal, it is only appropriate for the Queen of Erebor to lead the journey to our closest allies.”

“That is a rather roundabout way of asking me to court you, my King,” she smirked, widely.

“And that’s a rather roundabout answer,” he snarked back, pulling out a small box, revealing a silver bead, with a tiny, darkly pigmented carving of an owl, and a ring of entwined strands of silver and gold, embedded with a delicate emerald. “Will you accept my offer of courtship, and take your place as Queen Under the Mountain?”

“Of course,” she smiled, pulling out a tiny box of her own. “If you will take me.” Her silver bead was intricately decorated with a longsword through a crown, and the ring was wide and flat, with a small sapphire embedded in the eye of the crow carved upon it.

“Uncle! Did you know Faëlisse was courting someone?” Fili scrambled into the room, with Kili on his heels.

“She’s got a new braid, and a ring. This must’ve been going on for a while!” Kili continued, outraged. “How did we not know?” “Boys!” Faëlisse shouted, following them in, casting an apologetic smile to the confused company.

“No, no, this is interesting,” Bofur interrupted her attempt to pull them from the room. “Who’s the lucky man?” Ballin shook his head, as the rest of the company stared, accusingly at her.

“Are Kili and Fili the only people in this mountain who have eyes?” she asked, folding her arms. “Why am I not allowed to braid my hair and wear a ring, but Thorin is?”

“If Uncle had a new braid, we’d – Wait!” The brothers turned on their uncle, looking him up and down with a scrutinising eye. Dwalin picked up Thorin’s left hand, and waved it in the air, the new ring glinting.

“You!” Kili bellowed, accusatorially. “You’re who Faëlisse is courting! And she gave you a ring as well! Is that an elven thing?”

“Oh, Mahal,” Thorin groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Who else would it be?” Faëlisse questioned, suddenly incredulous. “I didn’t think you were actually asking. You two have been trying to pair us up for a year and suddenly you’re ready to believe I’m courting someone else?” Fili opened his mouth, but closed it again, and they both folded their arms, pouting, as she burst out laughing.

“Well, now that that mystery is solved,” Dwalin huffed, though he couldn’t hide his grin, “Back to business?”

———————

“King Bard,” Faëlisse smiled, embracing the man warmly. His children raced over, clustering around her, clamouring for attention. “Hello Sigrid, Bain.” She scooped Tilda up, scrunching the small girls nose, as Bain showed off his new sword. “We have a gift for you, from Erebor.” Fili laughed at her, as she struggled to pull the crown out singlehandedly, and took it himself, handing it over to Bard.

“Thank you,” the king acknowledged, carefully unwrapping the package.

“It was forged by our Uncle himself,” Kili informed him, happily, “From the shards of the Arkenstone, and the first gold mined in Erebor since our return.”

“I am honoured,” Bard smiled, as Bain immediately snatched the crown from him, handing it to Sigrid.

“Put it on him, put it on him,” he demanded, grinning at his older sister. Sigrid laughed, lifting the crown above her father’s head, and resting it over his brow.

“Suits you,” Faëlisse laughed, spinning Tilda in the air, before landing her in her father’s arms. “But we must keep going. We need to reach Mirkwood before nightfall.”

“Good luck,” Bard called after them, as the children waved goodbye.

“Oh, wait! We forgot the coronation!” Kili exclaimed, turning them around. “Your official invitation.” He handed over the small envelope. “The children are welcome too, of course.”

“My Prince,” she greeted Legolas, still astride her horse, “We bring a gift and proposition from Erebor.” He looked her up and down, suspiciously, but nodded, and she dismounted, gesturing to the others to do so also. Legolas’ guards led the horses away, while he led the envoy deeper into the realm, sending a messenger rushing ahead.

“King Thranduil will see you right away,” the messenger told them, greeting them at the door. “This way, please.” They entered the hall, familiarity washing over them, as Thranduil stared down at them from his throne.

“Faëlisse,” he greeted, warmly, the two exchanging kisses on one another’s cheeks. She had saved him in the Battle of Five Armies, and Elrond’s insistence had helped to mend the bonds between them.

“Thranduil,” she smiled, happily. “You know Prince Kili, and Crown Prince Fili.” The two princes stepped forward, and exchanged greetings with the taller elven king.

“Such a delegation cannot be here on a social visit,” he queried, leading them into a conference room and offering them seats.

“And we are not,” Faëlisse agreed, withdrawing the wrapped crown from her pack. “We are here to offer a gift to consolidate connections between Erebor and Mirkwood, as well as your official invitation to the coronation of the royal family.”

“And?” Thranduil questioned, knowingly, his eyes tracing over Kili, who hadn’t stopped looking around since he had arrived.

“We have a proposal for my dear friend Tauriel,” she confirmed, nodding. Thranduil nodded, gratefully receiving the wrapped package. He unwrapped it, carefully, revealing the glinting silver and stones.

“The Arkenstone?” he asked, placing it gently on the table.

“My uncle thought it suitable for the jewel to be shared among our closest allies,” Fili piped up, his first words since he had greeted the king.

“I appreciate it,” Thranduil smiled, warmly, and Faëlisse grinned. A knock at the door interrupted any response, and Thranduil called for it to open.

“Tauriel!” Faëlisse beat even Kili in greeting the Captain of the Guard, wrapping her friend in a warm embrace.

“Faë,” Tauriel greeted, “Prince Fili, Kili. How may I be of service, my King?”

“The delegates of Erebor have a proposal for you, Captain,” Thranduil replied, causing Tauriel to look back at them, querulously. Immediately, Fili and Faëlisse stepped back, pushing Kili forward. The dark-haired dwarf was almost trembling as he stood before her.

“Tauriel, would you do me the honour,” he paused, retrieving a small box from his pocket, “Of accepting my offer of courtship?” Tauriel glanced between the faces in the room, but Thranduil merely nodded to her.

“Yes!” She resisted the urge to squeal. “Yes, I will, Kili. I will.”

“Now, I hate to interrupt,” Faëlisse interrupted, stepping forward before Kili could offer the gifts. “But it is my responsibility as regent of the king to inform you that accepting this courtship also means accepting the responsibility of a Princess of Erebor.” Tauriel nodded, looking her old friend in the eye.

“I accept,” she murmured, and Faëlisse squealed, bouncing back out of the way, and allowing Kili to offer his ring and bead.

#thorin x reader #lotr #the hobbit #JRR Tolkien #the arkenstone #dragon sickness #thranduil #elves #feanor

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oetravia · 5 years ago

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for the ask, the hobbit and drake x morwenna!!

I had a long response to this written out and it all just got deleted, I’m so upset!

The Hobbit

Favourite Character: The true fictional love of my life, Bilbo Baggins.

Least Favourite Character: A tie between Radagast and Dori. Sorry not sorry.

5 Favourite Ships (canon or non): Do I have five? Um, Bagginshield, Kiliel, Legiel (I ship both, sue me), Barduil and Bofur/Bilbo. Hey, look at that, I do have five.

Character I find most attractive: Kili, but it’s by a very small margin.

Character I would marry: Fili. In a heartbeat. I love him so much!

Character I would be best friends with: Bofur! Of course!

A random thought: It’s been five years, and I’m still bitter at the lack of screen time Fili was given compared to his brother. I get it in AUJ, given the casting issues, what’s the excuse for DOS/BOTFA?!

An unpopular opinion: People are way too harsh about the films, tbh. Were they the best? No. Were they flawed? Yes. Were they also harmless fun with a fantastic cast? Absolutely!

My canon OTP: Bilbo and his dressing gown.

My non canon OTP: Bagginshield, but who is anyone kidding? It’s pretty much canon (esp. in the extended editions!)

Most badass character: Bilbo. Anyone who disagrees is just wrong.

Most epic villain: Most epic antagonist to the company is 100% Thranduil. Sauron is still the most epic villain though. To be that intimidating without a freaking body??

Pairing I’m not a fan of: Durincest. In any variation.

Character I feel the writer’s screwed up: It wasn’t the writing, and I didn’t have a problem with him being around because it did make sense...Legolas. Maybe it was Orlando’s acting this time. Something just wasn’t quite right.

Favourite friendship: Fili/Kili - if they count. Otherwise Bilbo/Gandalf.

Character I most identify with: Bilbo. I am a total Baggins wishing I could indulge my Tookish side’s desire for adventure!

Character I wish I could be: Tauriel.

Drake & Morwenna

When I started shipping them: 11th June 2017, the 3x01 airdate (and my birthday). More intensely when I read the books afterwards, and by January 2018 I was a total goner.

My thoughts: They are just the most gentle, lovely couple, and they deserve the world and only happiness.

What makes me happy about them: How well they compliment each other. Like, they have such similar world views, and yet such different ways of looking at things because of their vastly different upbringings. It’s gorgeous watching them open each other’s eyes to different ways of seeing things. Especially when they argue. Morwenna’s all logic and reason. Drake’s just passion and emotion, it’s really nicely done. Also, how much they genuinely love each other. Their scenes in The Loving Cup are utterly beautiful, just:

“It was when I were young and romantic. I said that Morwenna was my night and my day.”

“Yes,” said Demelza.

“Well, it is just the same now.”

and

“But you are the only one that matters - to me, I mean. We live where you want to live and that’s an end on it. If you are happy I am happy, and if not, neither am I.”

What makes me sad about them: Aside from the glaringly obvious? That none of their problems were their fault. The animosity between Trenwith and Nampara was such a driving factor, and something they weren’t personally involved it, and George’s ambition (and, in the books, his uncomfortable attraction to Morwenna).

Things done in fanfic that annoy me: the lack of it The common idea that Drake was using Geoffrey Charles as a means to be around Morwenna. Not true! Yes, it was convenient, but not the sole driving factor in the friendship. If it were, why would Drake have continued to see Geoffrey Charles after Morwenna was married, why would Geoffrey Charles have wanted to move them into Trenwith after he inherited? Not to mention what a bad reading of Drake as a character this is. Drake loved Geoffrey Charles, Geoffrey Charles loved Drake.

Things I look for in fanfic: It to exist. For people writing canon compliant fanfics to have a better understanding of life for a woman in the 1700s (which is also true of a vast number of viewers, tbh). Morwenna couldn’t just ‘run away’ from Osborne!

My wishlist: Honestly, I got everything I could’ve hoped for for them in the books. In the show; perhaps weirdly, I really want to see them struggle with Morwenna’s recovery. Both of them making mistakes, Morwenna’s nightmares etc. But I want to see them also overcome these things, and communicate properly. So few couples on the show really talk about their problems!

Who I’d be comfortable seeing them end up with, if not each other:

Honestly, I can’t believe either would really have been happy with anyone else. I think this line from Demelza in The Angry Tide sums it up the best:

“...If two people love one another the way they do, then it’s best to marry whatever the future bring. Even if it all goes wrong in a few years, nothing will take away the years they’ve had. Being in love is the difference between being alive and not being alive.”

However, if I really had to choose...hmm. I know Hugh/Morwenna is a fan favourite for AUs, but I don’t really see it, personally. They’re pretty different people. Maybe, if it wouldn’t make life incredibly awkward, Sam could work. Preacher Carne and the Dean’s Daughter. Plus Sam is kind, gentle and patient, everything Morwenna needs.

Really, though, if not Drake, I think the best thing for Morwenna would’ve been to return to live with her mother and sisters. Just living a quiet life.

As for Drake, if I thought he could’ve made her happy, I think Rosina would’ve been a nice fit for him. Their marriage would never have worked out though, not so long as Morwenna was alive. Especially with Drake knowing if he hadn’t gone through with the wedding, there might have been a chance for him and Morwenna. It would’ve poisoned them. Rosina and Drake both deserve better. What he did was horrible and harsh, but it was the kindest thing he could’ve done for Rosina.

But being together is, as Demelza puts it:

“It is what they have desired most in the world ever since they first set eyes on each other.”

As with pretty much all of the other couples from Poldark, they are so well suited and devoted to each other that the concept of them with anyone else is truly bizarre.

Dwight sums that up pretty well in The Stranger from the Sea;

“I don’t really believe calculation or deep perception entered into it with either of us, Caroline. We saw each other. And when we’d done that we’d eyes for no one else.”

My happily ever after for them: Honestly, they got it, and I haven’t been happier reading about a couple in a long time. I mean, I wish Morwenna’s trauma hadn’t made it impossible for them to join Geoffrey Charles at Trenwith, but that’s only a tiny little thing.

Thank you so much for the ask!

#poldark #ask #andthentheirwerenone #ask games

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mistymountainsgay · 7 years ago

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ok so here’s my LOTR headcanon

so hear me out but

imagine if Lotho had a daughter...

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was the primmest, properest, hobbit in Hobbiton, in the whole of the Shire, perhaps ever. She set so much store by doing things Right that she could probably have taken the Ring to Mordor simply because it was Not Right for a thing like the One Ring to exist, poisoning her peace and quiet. And among hobbits of a certain class, the Rightest possible recreational activity is the furnishing of hobbit holes.

All her life, she wanted to have Bag End as her own. She would not rest until she was relaxing behind one of its round windows, sipping an iced tea and planning what to do with the endless decoratable rooms. And it sent her absolutely batty with greed that Bilbo had no intention of moving out or decorating it (his own ideas for it had mostly to do with fresh flowers and a teapot and cakes in every room), but of course she could do nothing for it.

She and Otho eventually had a son, by the name of Lotho, and raised him in constant consciousness of how he should have been raised in Bag End. Lotho himself had no idea what he would do with Bag End, but he was nonetheless infuriated when his uncle returned from “fighting a dragon” or whatever nonsense those with Tookish blood did when they left home.

In his turn Lotho married a Bolger by the name of Lianna and had a child, who he immediately christened Lobelia Sackville-Baggins II. Lobelia II was, from a young age, an absolute handful. Refusing pretty dresses and Lobelia’s old dolls, she was always racing outside to play with the Gamgee girls, digging in the dirt with May and Marigold or following Halfred and Hamson out of Hobbiton and up the hills to chase birds and squirrels with slingshots.

Lobelia was absolutely mortified by her behavior, and sat her down at the tender age of fifteen to have a Serious Talk about behavior befitting a Sackville-Baggins. At the end of this talk, Lobelia II had decided exactly what she wanted to do when she grew up. She wanted to be a rough, tough, unladylike, wild woman, she wanted to steal Gandalf’s firework recipes and turn Bag End into a fireworks lab, and she wanted to never, ever, ever, ever, settle down with a nice young gentlehobbit and raise a new generation of prim, proper, Sackville-Bagginses. One day, she thought, she would be the Mad Baggins under the hill, and all the children would flock to her in their worn overalls and dirty breeches.

When Lotho took over the shire, she was nearly twenty-five, and though her hands trembled and her head hardly came up to his shoulder, she told him just what she thought of his ambitions. She loved the forest he planned to industrialize, and she didn’t want to be the Boss’ daughter, especially as more and more ruffians made lewd comments as she wandered through Bag End. She packed her bag that morning, and as he left to deliver pipe-weed to Sharkey, she screamed at him the worst words she knew. “Dôl lost lîn! Gwanno a puchtamo în! Toltho vi maw-chín Silevril o rî Morgoth enni!”

When he came to scold her, she threw at him a firecracker that singed his beard off and said that she wouldn’t be his daughter for all the land or wealth in the Shire. With her bag of the firework prototypes in one hand and the bag of her possessions in the other, she set off in the direction of Bywater, picked completely at random.

Tom Cotton, on the road to call in the fieldworkers for supper, found a tired, hungry, and nervous Lobelia Sackville-Baggins II and listened to her story on the way to his house. He was, after all, hardly one to deny someone a good meal and show off the work he’d done on the farm. At supper, reinvigorated by cake, brown bread, goat cheese, ale, biscuits, and shepherd's pie, Lobelia told Farmer Cotton her story. Almost on top of her words, Rosie clamored for her father to let Lobelia stay. Lobelia herself was perfectly happy to lend a hand on the farm, cleaning house, cooking, and just about anything else.

Rosie was more than anyone interested in the fireworks, and whenever they had spare time they would rush down to the fallow fields and tinker with the whiz-bangs and the squibs, the elf-fountains and the crackers, the dwarf-candles and the backarappers, the bangers, the dingers, the mallorn fountains, every firework Lobelia had ever made. And while they worked and played, they talked and talked about Samwise and Mad Baggins and Gandalf and all the Shire-happenings.

When the time came to fight Sharkey, the Hobbits had on their side such explosives as only Gandalf had made before or since--great showers of sparks and bangs that scared the ruffians and Orcs, and great blasts of sparking metal that burned and scattered them. She and Rosie were hailed as heroes, and with Frodo and Sam returned to Bag End

(When Sam tells Rosie Cotton he loves her dearly, but his Frodo needs him, and he needs Frodo, she turns tearful to Lobelia. It is Lobelia who talks her through her grief, who gives Rosie her whole heart like Rosie gave her hers when she was lost.

When, at last, Rosie Cotton has a ring upon her finger, it is Lobelia’s ring. When she marries, fireworks burst in the sky, hearts and roses and linked rings, and she is Rosie Sackville-Baggins. But the young hobbits just call them the Mad Bagginses.)

#LOTR fic #LOTR #Tolkien #Lord of the Rings #hobbits #I love hobbits and I love lesbians so have some hobbit lesbians #Like if I should crosspost to AO3 #my writing

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grundyscribbling · 7 years ago

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Tagged by @mythopoeticreality. Thanks!

1) Elves, Men (including hobbits), or Dwarves, if you could live a year with one of these three races which would it be? Elves, definitely. I already know from Men, it would be really awkward for hobbits to have to put up with someone oversize (to them) for a year, and I don’t think I’m that into the crafts the dwarves excel at. (Although it might be a novelty to not be a midget...)

2) Why? See above. If you need more reasons for ‘why elves’, the elves probably have better libraries.

3) Favorite obscure bit of Tolkien lore That Tolkien’s guardian ordered him not to contact Edith until his 21st birthday. And he kept to that - but wrote her the moment he was 21 asking her to marry him. She answered that she was engaged to another man, since she thought Tolkien no longer loved her. Five days after his birthday, he went to see her and she accepted his proposal. (Does this count as obscure?)

4) What are your thoughts on Elrond and Elros? I have many thought on Elrond and Elros, which are far too lengthy to be an 11 questions answer. But I think neither of them particularly enjoyed their sundering.

5) Give me a quick headcanon for your favorite character Elros summoned Elrond for one last visit, but waited to die until Elrond was back in Lindon because he knew Elrond would need support from others who knew him well to get through it. (He was right. Elrond was pretty much catatonic for several weeks.)

6) What is your favorite incident in the third age? You know I have trouble picking favorites, but Bilbo going off on his adventure just to show his Tookish side he can is pretty up there. So is Eowyn’s Birnam Wood moment with the Witch King.

7) Sauron or Morgoth? Which one is scarier? Which one do I like better? Please define the question.

8) What Middle Earth Culture would you love to know more about? The Haradrim. Also, any differences between dwarves - were there seven distinct cultures that varied wildly, or were it a case of related cultures like England/Australia/NZ/Canada/USA?

9) What is one bit about the Lord of the Rings movies you liked? The battles were satisfyingly epic.

10) What is one bit about the Lord of the Rings movies that you didn’t like? That so many characters got badly adapted, having to first screw up before coming to the right decision. (Aragorn not wanting to be King, Faramir first taking the Ring before sending Frodo on his way, ELROND.)

11) Any speculation about the new amazon show? Nope. I am approaching it with caution, much like the newer Star Wars movies. (I admit the Hobbit movies don’t quite sink to the levels of Episodes I-III or the Indiana Jones movie that Did Not Happen, but my expectations have been lowered.)

#11 questions #elrond #elros #thoughts about dwarves

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leah-halliwell92 · 7 years ago

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Courting and Marrying

Summary: Dwalin courts Bilbo all the while Thorin and the Lady Belrén are planning their wedding.

Part 1

It had been a month since Dwalin gifted Bilbo her courting gift. In that month Dwalin had done as much research as he could on hobbit courting rituals to not only understand more of the world his love came from, but to also make sure he also did her culture justice. Bilbo had been surprised the day Dwalin came to her and placed a flower crown atop her curls. In closer inspection the crown was made from red chrysanthemums, gardenias and amaryllis.

"They're beautiful Dwalin," Bilbo said as she caught her reflection.

Dwalin blushed and offered his arm, "Want to go for a walk?"

Bilbo grinned at him happily and took his arm.

Together the couple made their way through the city merrily chatting about everything and nothing.

From the other end of the corridor, Thorin and Balin looked on as the couple walked away.

Balin could have never been prouder of Bilbo or his younger brother. Balin could see how Bilbo's eyes and face lit up as Dwalin spoke to her and he could see the warmth and love that seemed to radiate from Dwalin from the mere sight of her bright eyes on his person.

He turned to Thorin to say something but stopped as he saw Thorin's gaze fix on the couple eyes wide.

"Are you alright Thorin?" He asked lightly.

Thorin turned to Balin with an astonished look on his face and asked, "Do you know if there's something going on between Ms. Baggins and Dwalin?"

In all honestly Balin had a hunch of what was happening between his brother and the lass but didn't want to jump to conclusions too early so settled for saying, "I've no idea. You'd have to ask them than."

Thorin nodded once and together continued to make their way to the council meeting with Dís and the boys.

"They won't be happy about their new assignments," Balin said at an attempt at lightening the mood.

Thorin cracked a grin and said, "They are the Princes of Erebor Baling. They should have guessed that this would happen once we reclaimed the mountain."

Balin chuckled good naturedly and said, "Reminds me of a couple of young Princes doing the same thing to their adad."

Thorin chuckled as he remembered the stunts he and Frerin would pull to escape their own assigned duties as Princes of Erebor.

"The difference here is that we eventually did them Balin. Fíli and Kíli however...I don't know to what lengths they will go to escape them. And Mahal forbid Dís finds them," Thorin said a fond smile on his face at the thought of his family together again and all in their homeland again.

Balin nodded sagely and continued along side Thorin until they entered the council room.

"Good afternoon brother, Balin," Dís said as she approached Thorin and Balin with a wide smile on her features.

Balin nodded with a grin of his own and accepted the tap on the forehead from the dam.

He could have laughed as Dís without a warning banged her forehead against Thorin's.

Thorin let out a booming laugh as he hugged her close.

It would take time for the siblings to get used to each other being not only together again but to be home again...and in one piece.

"The boys are due soon and I have every right to pull them by their ears here should the need arise," Dís said a cheeky grin on her features her Durin blue eyes sparkling.

Thorin nodded and made his way to his seat.

Turing to Balin, in a hushed tone Dís said, "Has he asked her yet?"

Balin kept sight of Thorin as they spoke, "Dwalin has...I doubt Thorin will realize the had feelings for him until its too late on both fronts."

Dís nodded sadly.

She had hoped to have the hobbit lass as her sister and couldn't help the feeling of loss that ran through her at her brother's stubbornness and complete and utter cluelessness.

Balin nodded sympathetically at her and went to take his seat to the right of Thorin.

Ten minutes passed and still the boys did not show. Both Durin heirs were loosing their patience and Balin knew it. But before he had a chance to say anything, Bilbo stalked into the room with the boys one ear in each hand pulling them along. It looked like anytime they'd complain she'd twist harder.

"Waiting on these two weren't you?" Bilbo asked a flush to her cheeks.

Thorin, Dís and Balin looked on in astonishment as the boys sat down besides their mother with no further protest as soon as Bilbo let go of their now red ears.

"Thank you for delivering the miscreants Bilbo, didn't really know how long it would be before these two went out on the hunt for them," Balin said his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Bilbo nodded and smiled at the Durin siblings.

Dís stood and went to give Bilbo a tap on her forehead with her own and said, "You'd make an exceptional sister."

Bilbo gasped at that and gave the dam a small bow.

Dwalin stayed by the door observing her and keeping Thorin's reactions to what was going in in his periphery.

Dís grinned at Bilbo lovingly and hugged her close.

Bilbo felt the longing coming from the dam in waves and had to admit that having Dís as a sister would have been a gift. Growing up an only child, Bilbo sometimes felt the sting of loneliness at being one of those rare hobbits that was an only child. The fact that her Tookishness also set her apart from most didn't help.

"Doesn't mean we can't be," Bilbo replied a small smile playing at her lips.

Dís brightened at the prospect and said, "We'll talk later dear I guarantee it."

"I'll leave them to you and the gents then Dís," Bilbo said with a small giggle and with a nod to the room turned and left Dwalin close by her side.

As soon as the door closed Balin and Dís took saw Throin deflate.

"What has you so down brother?" Dís asked after giving her sons love taps at the back of their heads for trying to escape their lessons.

Thorin brow furrowed as he said, "Has she always looked like that?"

Dís and Balin shared a knowing look.

"Like what uncle," Fíli asked still rubbing is reddened ear.

"Like...star shine," Thorin said quietly.

"Could it be that you have a thing for our bugler uncle?" Kíli teased also rubbing his still burning ear.

Thorin hummed at that and thought that maybe he did have feeling for their hobbit.

Balin cleared his throat thoughtfully and said, "I believe someone might have offered her his suit in courtship."

Dís knew Dwalin had a thing for the lass as well but never thought he'd have the stones to to ask her.

Thorin's eyes widened, "Who!?" he bellowed.

"Does it matter at this point brother?" Dís asked her voice steely, "If she ever did have feelings for you brother I doubt they would do you or her any good. You have been in search for a wife for a while now Thorin and even with the cultural differences I doubt she'd wait on you to do or say something with the knowledge of what is expected of you as King of the Dwarves of Erebor."

Balin nodded sagely and had to note how the normally rowdy boys were now silent.

"Do you mean that she's moved on?" Thorin asked through gritted teeth.

Dís nodded and said, "I not only mean it...I know she's moved on."

The room seemed to tremble under the King's roar of outrage at this knowledge.

"That wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be," Bilbo told Dwalin as they made their way to the kitchens for a before supper snack.

"What was?" He asked curiously.

"Seeing Thorin," Bilbo said her voice quiet, "I mean...there were times where I couldn't look at him without going completely speechless. He meant so much to me and I thought I was being obvious about it."

Dwalin chuckled and said, "Oh believe me Bilbo you were. He's a dense dwarf Bilbo...you could have hit him in the head with a war hammer regarding your affections and he'd still doubted them."

Bilbo laughed along with him and found that she agreed. Thorin had take a while to not only trust her through their journey to Erebor but his disdain towards her coat be cut with a knife. If he took a while to fully trust her, Yvanna knows how long he would have taken to being receptive to her attentions.

The Lady Belrén approached Bilbo and Dwalin as they were entering the kitchens.

"Miss Baggins, sorry to bother you this afternoon but I was wondering if you could help me something?" The Dam asked.

Bilbo feels no ill will towards the dam. On the contrary she wishes her the best in all with her life and marriage to Thorin.

"Yes?" Bilbo asked.

"I was wondering if you could help me prepare a dinner for his Majesty," Belrén said timidly.

Bilbo grinned kindly at her and said, "I don't see why not."

Belrén sighed in noticeable relief and said, "Thank you my lady. When can we begin?"

Bilbo smiled and said, "We can talk during dinner about setting up a menu if you wish?"

Belrén nodded eagerly and with a grateful nod said her goodbyes to the couple.

"Other women would have been rather spurned by being approached by their love interest's other lover," Dwalin said evenly.

Bilbo shrugged and said, "She was never the 'other' Dwalin. She can't be when he seemed to never be drawn to me in the first place."

Dwalin nodded in agreement and said, "You have a point. And even if Thorin did have feeling for you I doubt he would have acted on them out of stubbornness and the fact that he'd see any outside feeling other than that to fulfill our quest as a hinderance and distraction."

Bilbo nodded sadly but couldn't help but be thankful to Thorin's cluelessness. For without it she would not have given Dwalin's attentions a chance.

Dwalin and Bilbo each grabbed a mug of ale and a plate filled with cheeses and bread to munch on. They made their way to a secluded area of the kitchen where they knew Bombur would keep them secluded and continued their hushed conversation.

Bombur grinned knowingly at the couple and couldn't help but be reminded of his own courtship with his dear One.

'Its about time they were happy I say,' Bombur thought as he continued on with his preparations for that evening's supper.

Tag List: @fizzy-custard, @patanghill17, @fandomgalcentral, @imagines-for-multiple-fandoms, @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor, @disneymarina

#Dwalin x Fem!Bilbo #Thorin x OC #Thorin's Company #Dís

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igotanaddixon · 8 years ago

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Teach Me (Dwalin x Hobbit!Reader)

Fandom: The Hobbit

A/N: Hi guys! It’s been a while since I posted a long imagine like this one! I’m sorry for the lack of updates but I hope that you forgive me :) I added a little touch of romance in this one, I hope it’s okay with the request.

Request: Requested by @weirdnewbie ;) “I wanted to request a one shot with Dwalin. Reader could be Bilbo’s twin but she’s more Tookish ans she wants Dwalin to train her so she could be more prepared, he refuses but eventually gives in when she starts her surprise attacks on him.”

Words: 3165

You sighed as you watched the company of dwarves - and hobbits - move forward on their ponies. Being the smallest of all your companions you had to ride before your twin brother on his pony. Even if you had strongly complained about it you could not compete with the dwarves’ stubbornness. Moreover, when it was actually the leader of the company who gave you the order. Thorin Oakenshield was a scary dwarf in your opinion and you were sure that Bilbo thought exactly the same. You remembered the frighten look your twin brother wore on his features as the dwarf king circled him and questioned him back at Bag End. You giggled slightly, trying to stay quiet and discreet but Bilbo moved from behind you to try to look at your face.

“What is making you giggle like that, little sister?” Bilbo asked genuinely interested.

His question caught the attention of Gandalf who was riding his horse next to your pony. The wizard looked at you with a gentle smile as you shook your head and waved your hand at your brother to dismiss his question. However, the other dwarves who were riding near your pony were not ready to drop the subject.

“Come on lass, tell us what made you laugh!” You heard Bofur say from behind you.

“Is it a joke? I like jokes!” You heard Kili ask as you rolled your eyes.

“Come on little lady, tell us!” Fili said, joining his brother by your side.

“It’s nothing… Really. I was lost in my thoughts, nothing more.” You said with a small smile, turning your head to glare at Bilbo. “And I am not your little sister, we are twins so we have the same age.” You said and pouted your lips, earning a laugh from the dwarves around you.

“I was the first one so it makes me the oldest.” Bilbo argued playfully. You groaned and crossed your arms before your chest.

“I’m the one who has more Took blood in my veins anyway, so shush.” You said, earning another wave of laughers from the dwarves and a smirk from Gandalf.

The afternoon went on like this, you made small chatters with your brother or with your new dwarf friends who seemed to be really interested in Hobbits’ traditions. You smiled as you heard Bilbo yet again complain about his back hurting because of the pony. Gandalf answered something that you couldn’t quite understand as your mind drifted once again. Your eyes trailed up to the front of the company to look at Thorin and Dwalin (the leader’s best friend and best warrior), they seemed to be deep in conversation with each other. Thorin nodded his head at something Dwalin had said and then looked ahead. Your eyes suddenly trailed up upon Dwalin, the dwarf was tall for a dwarf and you could see that he was great fighter by the way he held himself. He was always aware of his surroundings, always ready to fight if something attacked the company. His entire body was made to fight, covered with strong muscles and scars from his previous battles.

You smiled suddenly, deciding that you had found the dwarf who will teach you how to fight. After all, if you were to follow Thorin Oakenshield’s company to reclaim their homeland, you might as well learn how to fend for yourself. You would prove to Dwalin that you were no gentle folk who couldn’t fight or face danger with courage. You were half Took and ready to prove it.

“What do you have in mind, (Y/N)?” Bilbo asked, this time just above a whisper, as he followed your eyes.

“I’m going to ask master Dwalin to teach me how to use a sword.” You answered proudly, making Bilbo sigh.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean, he’s almost as scary as Thorin.” Bilbo said, his voice almost seemed weak.

“My dear brother… I do not fear Thorin nor Dwalin. They are dwarves not some kind of demons.” You said as you chuckled slightly at your brother’s antics.

“Well… if you say so.” Bilbo answered doubtfully, making you laugh even more.

“Aye lass! This time you have to tell us about this joke that is making you laugh so much!” You heard Bofur’s voice call from behind your pony once more, the other dwarves agreeing loudly. You rolled your eyes but blushed as you noticed Thorin and Dwalin’s eyes on you from the front of the company.

The night came quickly upon the wooden lands of Middle-Earth and you were thankful because your back was actually aching from the long ride on your pony. You started to understand why Bilbo complained about it so much. The Dwarves had already built the camp for the night and Bombur was cooking dinner upon the fire Bofur had started. You decided to help the cook with the stew and take that opportunity to talk to Dwalin – who was already on watch - when you’ll bring him his share of the food. Bilbo was sitting next to Gandalf, talking about his books yet again when Bofur handed you a steaming bowl of stew gesturing toward Dwalin’s back with his other hand.

“Here lass, could you give this to Dwalin over there?” He asked you with a kind smile.

“Of course!” You answered and took the bowl from Bofur’s hands carefully.

The nice dwarf smiled at you before turning back to Bombur and you turned around swiftly to walk in Dwalin’s direction. You took a deep breath in and tried to calm your beating heart as you approached the grumpy dwarf. You could do this, you were a Took! You could do this. You stopped next to the huge rock he was sitting on and tried to smile without showing your nervousness.

“Mister Dwalin? Here, I have your dinner.” You said, catching the warrior’s attention. Dwalin looked at you briefly then down at the bowl. He bowed his head slightly and took the bowl from your hands.

“Thank you, lass.” He said in his deep and rough voice. You smiled and watched as he dived into his dinner without another look in your direction.

However, you didn’t leave his side and waited awkwardly with your hands nervously folded behind your back. Your eyes quickly dropped to your hobbit feet when Dwalin stopped eating to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You need something else lass?” Dwalin asked, leaning his elbows over his tights while observing your odd behavior.

“Well…” You started weakly but suddenly looked up in his eyes and held your chin high trying to look confident. “I wanted to ask for your help, master dwarf.” Dwalin tried to look at you seriously but he secretly felt amused by your cute semblance of confidence.

“My help? With what exactly?” He answered, leaning more curiously in your direction. Your hand went up to fiddle with your golden curls.

“Well, you see I’ve been thinking and observing a lot these pasts few days and I have come to the conclusion that you are probably the most experienced warrior of the company. I mean, Thorin and you are the probably at the same…”

“Lass! Slow down, slow down!” Dwalin cut your rant with an amused chuckle. You closed your mouth and blushed once again. “What do you want exactly?” You bit your lips and looked at him.

“I wanted to ask you to teach me how to fight with a sword. I want to be able to fend for myself.” You blurted out, waiting for him to answer. Dwalin straightened his back and looked at you with annoyance.

“No.” He answered harshly and looked back down at his stew.

“Thank you! I think we could… wait what?” Your eyes widen as your brain processed his answer.

“I said no.” Dwalin said once more, not even bothering to look at you.

“But… Why? I don’t understand. I need to know how to fight! Please mister Dwalin!” You tried as you took a step closer to catch his attention but the stubborn dwarf just shook his head in denial.

You stood before him for several painfully quiet seconds, the air thick with your frustration and his lack of interest. Your face turned red with annoyance and you decided to storm back to camp.

“Enjoy your dinner, master dwarf.” You said harshly before leaving Dwalin alone on his rock. A few faces followed you as you quickly made your way toward Bilbo and sat next to him on your bedroll. Even Thorin looked at you with slight amusement and compassion as he knew how Dwalin could be infuriating sometimes.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea, (Y/N).” Bilbo told you, making you groan and lay on your bedroll facing the other way.

“I don’t need you to annoy me even more, Bilbo.” You muttered, making your brother and Gandalf chuckle at your grumpy behavior. You closed your eyes in annoyance and decided to have an early night. However, your tookish mind woke you up quickly as an idea popped up into your brain. If the dwarf wasn’t willing to teach you, you would make him.

Morning came too quickly for your liking but you forced yourself to get up before the rest of the company. Indeed, Thorin and Gandalf were already awake and smoking their pipes but the other dwarves were still sleeping, including Dwalin. You smirked and stretched your arms before brushing your thick blanket off your legs and quickly packed your belongings back into your backpack. Gandalf watched as you swiftly and without a noise made your way towards them. You gave them a smile and told them that you needed some “lady time” alone, even if Thorin protested about the woods being too dangerous for a small lady like you, you made your way through the trees and waited behind a bush. Your eyes were glued to Dwalin as he started to wake up and you smirked. The strong dwarf rose from his bedroll with a groan and started to stretched, that is when you took your sword from its sheath and bolted out of the bushes toward Dwalin, the dwarf tuned around and with a shout you swung your sword in his direction. Dwalin’s axe blocked your attack with ease and you wondered how he managed to reach for his axe that quickly. Dwalin’s eyes were wide open and a few other dwarves were on their feet ready to fight, including Thorin and Gandalf.

“What in Mahal’s name were you thinking?” Dwalin shouted angrily and pushed his axe out of the way, making you fall on the ground. Bilbo, who was now wide awake, ran to your aid as the other dwarves started to laugh.

“I’m attacking you by surprise.” You answered as you took Bilbo’s hand to get back on your feet.

“I saw that yes! It was stupid I could have kill you!” Dwalin shouted again, ready to get in your face. You marched in his direction and held his glare.

“Were you afraid for my safety master dwarf?” You asked defiantly. “Maybe if I knew how to fight and defend myself you wouldn’t have to bother worrying about me?” You said with your hands on your hips. Dwalin observed you but his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Me, Worrying about a helpless little hobbit?” He scoffed and turned around to escape your eyes. You smirked, content with his reaction and followed Bilbo to his pony not paying attention to the lecture he was giving you.

It was noon when Thorin decided to take a short break to let the ponies rest. Fili and Kili had asked you why you had attacked Dwalin and they were now agreeing to help you with your little game. They thought that you wanted to prank the grumpy dwarf and everyone knew that the young Durins were always up for a good old prank. Bilbo was highly against it but you couldn’t care less, he had always been the more reasonable one of the two.

“So, we’re going to distract him.” Kili said as he patted your shoulder warmly. You nodded your head and smiled at the young dwarf.

“But you’ll only have one chance, lass.” Fili added.

“I know, I’ll try my best.” You answered, making the two brothers grin. They looked at each other, nodded their head at the same time then walked in Dwalin’s direction.

“Mister Dwalin!” Kili called, making the bald dwarf turn around with a frown. You quickly turned around to pat your pony’s mane, faking innocence as you heard Fili and Kili talk to Dwalin.

You smirked and turned around to see if the dwarf could see you but you only saw his back. You took this as your opportunity to run towards him.

“Oh, here we go again, lads!” Bofur said rather loudly as he got up to watch your new attempt.

You let out yet another cry but this time you jumped on Dwalin’s back, trying to make him fall over but the dwarf didn’t even move an inch. You were just clinging to Dwalin, your legs around his middle and your arms trying to choke him helplessly. The air was thick with awkwardness and silence for several seconds before the entire company burst out laughing. You were still trying to choke the dwarf, not accepting your defeat as you heard Dwalin’s voice shout once again.

“By my beard, (Y/N), get off my back!” That sentence alone made the company laugh even more and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. You jumped down on the floor, finally accepting the fact that it wasn’t the best idea you have had to jump on the dwarf’s back. After all he was way too strong and you were way to light to make him stumble.

“What is it all about, lass?” Balin’s voice asked from behind you as Dwalin pointed his finger at you ready to lash out. You turned around and shrugged your shoulders at the old dwarf, smiling innocently. Balin smirked knowingly and you quickly made your way next to your brother.

“(Y/N), come back here!” You heard Dwalin shout at you but you quickly hide behind Gandalf, laughing as Thorin barked his order to get back on the road.

Days passed and you were still trying to attack Dwalin over and over. The company found it really entertaining but it was getting on Dwalin’s nerves and also on Thorin’s. The company was once again stopping for the night and you saw an opening to attack Dwalin once again. Suddenly, as you slowly got up from your log around the fire, Thorin appeared before you. He had a disapproving look on his face and his arms were crossed over his broad chest.

“Miss Baggins, I think Dwalin had enough of your pranks for today.” The king said, trying to stop you and give his friend some rest. You sighed and looked up the king.

“Those are not pranks but humble attempt to attack master Dwalin. I want to show him that I can be worth of his time and consequently earn his respect so he would agree to teach me how to fight properly.” You told Thorin, hoping that if you told him the truth he would somehow understand.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at you and sat next to you on the log. “You could have asked someone else if you really wanted to learn how to fight, lass.” He said rather nicely, you suspected that your height and the cute features of hobbits played in your favor but you brushed it off quickly.

“I can’t. It became like a challenged to me now. It’s a question of honor. I have to convince Dwalin that I’m not helpless.” You answered, looking down at your feet. Thorin sighed as he observed you then looked back at his friend who was once again on watch.

“Alright then. I think he’s going to give in to you anyway.” The king suddenly said, making you look up at him with widen eyes. Thorin smirked then got up to talk to Balin, leaving you stunned and confused. You quickly shook the feeling away and focused on your prey. You stood silently and walked towards Dwalin with your dagger in your hand, the company didn’t see you as you creep in Dwalin’s back. You almost got to him when his voice stopped you.

“Don’t even think about it, lass.” You groaned and put your dagger away before you sat next to the bald dwarf on the huge rock he was using as a chair.

“How did you know that I was there?!” You asked and pouted your lips. Dwalin chuckled and tuned his head to look at your cute little face. The serious dwarf wouldn’t admit it but his heart clenched for you and seeing you taking all those risks to force him to teach you how to fight scared him to death.

“I just know.” Dwalin answered and tuned back to watch over the woods. You sighed and a sad expression crossed your face as you knew that you had once again failed. Dwalin would never give up.

“I’m helpless…” You muttered as you clenched your hands into tiny fists. Dwalin looked at you, his dark eyes softening upon you. He could see the sadness in your eyes, still he could also see courage, persistence and strength. Dwalin sighed and turned his gaze to look ahead.

“Fine!” He said, making you jump in surprise and stare at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked hopefully.

“I’ll teach you how to fight. But on one condition!” You nodded your head in excitement, happiness filling your heart as you felt ready to jump around. “No whining, no complaining, no crying. You listen to me and you stop your daily attacks!” He said seriously. You nodded your head again and jumped on your feet.

“Yes, I promise! Don’t worry!” You said in a high-pitched voice.

“Fine then, we’ll start tomorrow.” Dwalin said and smiled slightly at you. Then, you couldn’t help it. You jumped at his neck and hugged him tightly, squealing before kissing his cheek to thank him.

“Thank you mister Dwalin! Thank you so much!” You said as you pulled away and ran in Bilbo’s direction to tell him that you would start your training tomorrow. Little did you know that behind you, Dwalin was touching his cheek in awe. His heart was beating fast and hard against his chest as he watched you from afar. Dwalin knew that he was hooked and as he turned around to watch over the woods, he made a promise to himself that he would protect you with his life if he had too.

“Did you really kiss Dwalin?” You heard Bilbo’s voice from next to you as you laid in your bedroll that night, trying to sleep desperately.

“Bilbo!” You reprimanded him and kicked him hardly.

#the hobbit #dwalin #dwalin x reader #reader insert #the hobbit imagine #tolkien #jrr tolkien #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #bilbo baggins #fanfic

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tookish-side-won · 5 years ago

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{ O O C }

NAME : Luin FACECLAIM : Bilbo or a Corgi, depending on mood PRONOUNS : She/Her HEIGHT : 5′8 BIRTHDAY : June 7th AESTHETIC : fall colors, sweaters, calligraphy, books, and smart men. LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO : Youngblood by 5sos FAVORITE MUSE (S) YOU’VE WRITTEN : Bilbo, Damian Wayne, Tony Stark, Leonard McCoy, and Desmond Miles

* GETTING TO KNOW THE ACCOUNT :

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON THIS MUSE : I’m fairly certain that I am a hobbit, and Bilbo is such an interesting character. He starts out the most hobbit-esque of the Shire, and by the end, he’s completely changed. It’s such a fascinating development from beginning to end. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE : His subtle, yet biting wit. The fact that he doesn’t always say things to people’s faces, but sort of under his breath. He’s not demeaning, but he isn’t afraid to speak his mind. As well, the fact that he literally went on the journey out of spite.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING : Honestly just about everything, but I love plotting things out with my partners! FAVORITE TYPES OF THREADS : Everything that forces Bilbo to unveil the Tookish side of himself. He tries to retain his Baggins side, but will stand up for himself, and when he does, he puts on quite a show.

BIGGEST STRUGGLE IN REGARDS TO YOUR CURRENT MUSE : He wavers a lot between the two sides of his parentage. He was raised as a Baggins, and tries to follow that as often as he can, which often messes with his self-esteem as well. He tends to consider himself as “no one of importance” compared to the literal kings and lords he’s met.

Tagged by: @lonerebor Tagging: whoever else that would like to!

#out of pocket handkerchiefs (ooc)

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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Inside Information

For a long time the dwarves stood in the dark before the door and debated, until at last Thorin spoke: "Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a good companion on our long road, and a hobbit full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance-now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now is the time for him to earn his Reward." You are familiar with Thorin's style on important occasions, so I will not give you any more of it, though he went on a good deal longer than this. It certainly was an important occasion, but Bilbo felt impatient. By now he was quite familiar with Thorin too, and he knew what be was driving at. "If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thorin Thrain's son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer," he said crossly, "say so at once and have done! I might refuse. I have got you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so that I am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all' as my father used to say, and somehow I don't think I shall refuse. Perhaps I have begun to trust my luck more than I used to in the old days" - he meant last spring before he left his own house, but it seemed centuries ago - "but anyway I think I will go and have a peep at once and get it over. Now who is coming with me?" He did not expect a chorus of volunteers, so he was not disappointed. Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on One leg, but the others made no pretence of offering - except old Balin. the look-out man, who was rather fond the hobbit. He said he would come inside at least and perhaps a bit of the way too, really to call for help if necessary. The most that can be said for the dwarves is this: they intended to pay Bilbo really handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty job for them, and they did not mind the poor little fellow doing it if he would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if he got into it, as they did in the case of the trolls at the beginning of their adventures before they had any particular reasons for being grateful to him. There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much. The stars were coming out behind him in a pale sky barred with black when the hobbit crept through the enchanted door and stole into the Mountain. It was far easier going than he expected. This was no goblin entrance, or rough wood-elves' cave. It was a passage made by dwarves, at the height of their wealth and skill: straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope direct-to some distant end in the blackness below. After a while Balin bade Bilbo "Good luck!" and stopped where he could still see the faint outline of the door, and by a trick of, the echoes of the tunnel hear the rustle of the whispering voices of the others just outside. Then the hobbit slipped on his ring, and warned by the echoes to take more than hobbit's care to make no sound, he crept noiselessly down, down, down into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his little face was set and grim. Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages. He loosened his dagger in its sheath, tightened his belt, and went on. "Now you are in for it at last, Bilbo Baggins," he said to himself. "You went and put your foot right in it that night of the party, and now you have got to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what a fool I was and am!" said the least Tookish part of him. "I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!" He did not wake up of course, but went still on and on, till all sign of the door behind had faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought it was beginning to feel warm. "Is that a kind of a glow I seem to see coming right ahead down there?" he thought. It was. As he went forward it grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily getting redder and redder. Also it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too, began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him. It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the hobbit's little head. Before him lies the great bottommost cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain's root. It is almost dark so that its vastaess can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug! There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with a wealth that could not be guessed. To say that Bilbo's breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language that they learned of elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendour, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count. He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he stole from the shadow of the doorway, across the floor to the nearest edge of the mounds of treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. He grasped a great two-handled cup, as heavy as he could carry, and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note. Then Bilbo fled. But the dragon did not wake-not yet but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the little hobbit toiled back up the long tunnel. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was: "I've done it! This will show them. 'More like a grocer than a burglar' indeed! Well, we'll hear no more of that." Nor did he. Balin was overjoyed to see the hobbit again, and as delighted as he was surprised. He picked Bilbo up and carried him out into the open air. It was midnight and clouds had covered the stars, but Bilbo lay with his eyes shut, gasping and taking pleasure in the feel of the fresh air again, and hardly noticing the excitement of the dwarves, or how they praised him and patted him on the back and put themselves and all their families for generations to come at his service. The dwarves were still passing the cup from hand to hand and talking delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up its mind to start eruptions once again. The door behind them was pulled nearly to, and blocked from closing with a stone, but up the long tunnel came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble. Then the dwarves forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion an wondered why he had never blocked it up. Of late he had half fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound from far above that came down through it to his lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup! Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain-roots. He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate. To hunt the whole mountain till he had caught the thief and had torn and trampled him was his one thought. He issued from the Gate, the waters rose in fierce whistling steam, and up he soared blazing into the air and settled on the mountain-top in a spout of green and scarlet flame. The dwarves heard the awful rumour of his flight, and they crouched against the walls of the grassy terrace cringing under boulders, hoping somehow to escape the frightful eyes of the hunting dragon. There they would have all been killed, if it had not been for Bilbo once again. "Quick! Quick!" he gasped. "The door! The tunnel! It's no good here." Roused by these words they were just about to creep inside the tunnel when Bifur gave a cry: "My cousins! Bombur and Bofur - we have forgotten them, they are down in the valley!" "They will be slain, and all our ponies too, and all out stores lost," moaned the others. "We can do nothing." "Nonsense!" said Thorin, recovering his dignity. "We cannot leave them. Get inside Mr. Baggins and Balin, and you two Fili and Kili-the dragon shan't have all of us. Now you others, where are the ropes? Be quick!" Those were perhaps the worst moments they had been through yet. The horrible sounds of Smaug's anger were echoing in the stony hollows far above; at any moment he might come blazing down or fly whirling round and find them there, near the perilous cliff's edge hauling madly on the ropes. Up came Bofur, and still all was safe. Up came Bombur, puffing and blowing while the ropes creaked, and still all was safe. Up came some tools and bundles of stores, and then danger was upon them. A whirring noise was heard. A red light touched the points of standing rocks. The dragon came. They had barely time to fly back to the tunnel, pulling and dragging in their bundles, when Smaug came hurtling from the North, licking the mountain-sides with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove in through the crack they had left and scorched them as they lay hid. Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell as he passed again. The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone. "That'll be the end of our poor beasts!" said Thorin. "Nothing can escape Smaug once he sees it. Here we are and here we shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back to the river with Smaug on the watch!" It was not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and there they lay and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came pale through the crack of the door. Every now and again through the night they could hear the roar of the flying dragon grow and then pass and fade, as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides. He guessed from the ponies, and from the traces of the camps he had discovered, that men had come up from the river and the lake and had scaled the mountain-side from the valley where the ponies had been standing; but the door withstood his searching eye, and the little high-walled bay had kept out his fiercest flames. Long he had hunted in vain till the dawn chilled his wrath and he went back to his golden couch to sleep - and to gather new strength. He would not forget or forgive the theft, not if a thousand years turned him to smouldering stone, but he could afford to wait. Slow and silent he crept back to his lair and half closed his eyes. When morning came the terror of the dwarves grew less. They realized that dangers of this kind were inevitable in dealing with such a guardian, and that it was no good giving up their quest yet. Nor could they get away just now, as Thorin had pointed out. Their ponies were lost or killed, and they would have to wait some time before Smaug relaxed his watch sufficiently for them to dare the long way on foot. Luckily they had saved enough of their stores to last them still for some time. They debated long on what was to be done, but they could think of no way of getting rid of Smaug - which had always been a weak point in their plans, as Bilbo felt inclined to point out. Then as is the nature of folk that are thoroughly perplexed, they began to grumble at the hobbit, blaming him for what had at first so pleased them: for bringing away a cup and stirring up Smaug's wrath so soon. "What else do you suppose a burglar is to do?" asked Bilbo angrily. "I was not engaged to kill dragons, that is warrior's work, but to steal treasure. I made the best beginning I could. Did you expect me to trot back with the whole hoard of Thror on my back? If there is any grumbling to be done, I think I might have a say. You ought to have brought five hundred burglars not one. I am sure it reflects great credit on your grandfather, but you cannot pretend that you ever made the vast extent of his wealth clear to me. I should want hundreds of years to bring it all up, if I was fifty times as big, and Smaug as tame as a rabbit." After that of course the dwarves begged his pardon. "What then do you propose we should do, Mr. Baggins?" asked Thorin politely. "I have no idea at the moment - if you mean about removing the treasure. That obviously depends entirely on some new turn of luck and the getting rid of Smaug. Getting rid of dragons is not at all in my line, but I will do my best to think about it. Personally I have no hopes at all, and wish I was safe back at home." "Never mind that for the moment! What are we to do now, to-day?" "Well, if you really want my advice, I should say we can do nothing but stay where we are. By day we can no doubt creep out safely enough to take the air. Perhaps before long one or two could be chosen to go back to the store by the river and replenish our supplies. But in the meanwhile everyone ought to be well inside the tunnel by night. "Now I will make you an offer. I have got my ring and will creep down this very noon-then if ever Smaug ought to be napping-and see what he is up to. Perhaps something will turn up. 'Every worm has his weak spot,' as my father used to say, though I am sure it was not from personal experience." Naturally the dwarves accepted the offer eagerly. Already they had come to respect little Bilbo. Now he had become the real leader in their adventure. He had begun to have ideas and plans of his own. When midday came he got ready for another journey down into the Mountain. He did not like it of course, but it was not so bad now he knew, more or less, what was in front of him. Had he known more about dragons and their wily ways, he might have teen more frightened and less hopeful of catching this one napping. The sun was shining when he started, but it was as dark as night in the tunnel. The light from the door, almost closed, soon faded as he went down. So silent was his going that smoke on a gentle wind could hardly have surpasses it, and he was inclined to feel a bit proud of himself as he drew near the lower door. There was only the very fainter glow to be seen. "Old Smaug is weary and asleep," he thought. "He can't, see me and he won't hear me. Cheer up Bilbo!" He had forgotten or had never heard about dragons' sense of smell. It is also an awkward fact that they keep half an eye open watching while they sleep, if they are suspicious. Smaug certainly looked fast asleep, almost dead and dark, with scarcely a snore more than a whiff of unseen steam, when Bilbo peeped once more from the entrance. He was just about to step out on to the floor when he caught a sudden thin and piercing ray of red from under the drooping lid. of Smaug's left eye. He was only pretending to sleep! He was watching the tunnel entrance! Hurriedly Bilbo stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring. Then Smaug spoke. "Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!" But Bilbo was not quite so unlearned in dragon-lore as all that, and if Smaug hoped to get him to come nearer so easily he was disappointed. "No thank you, O Smaug the. Tremendous!" he replied. "I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them." "Do you now?" said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it. j "Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities," replied Bilbo. You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," said the dragon. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't seem to remember smelling you before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?" "You may indeed! I come from under the hill, and under hills and over the hills my paths led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen." "So I can well believe," said Smaug, "but that is hardly our usual name." "I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I as chosen for the lucky number." "Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off." "I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me." "These don't sound so creditable," scoffed Smaug. "I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling. "That's better!" said Smaug. "But don't let your imagination run away with you!" This of course is the way to talk to dragons, if you don't want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo's adventures to which he was referring), but he thought he understood enough, and he chuckled in his wicked inside. "I thought so last night," he smiled to himself. "Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I'm a lizard. I haven't been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!" "Very well, O Barrel-rider!" he said aloud. "Maybe Barrel was your pony's name; and maybe not, though it was fat enough. You may walk unseen, but you did not walk all the way. Let me tell you I ate six ponies last night and I shall catch and eat all the others before long. In return for the excellent meal I will give you one piece of advice for your good: don't have more to do with dwarves than you can help!" "Dwarves!" said Bilbo in pretended surprise. "Don't talk to me!" said Smaug. "I know the smell (and taste) of dwarf-no one better. Don't tell me that I can eat a dwarf-ridden pony and not know it! You'll come to a bad end, if you go with such friends. Thief Barrel-rider. I don't mind if you go back and tell them so from me." But he did not tell Bilbo that there was one smell he could not make out at all, hobbit-smell; it was quite outside his experience and puzzled him mightily. "I suppose you got a fair price for that cup last night?" he went on. "Come now, did you? Nothing at all! Well, that's just like them. And I suppose they are skulking outside, and your job is to do all the dangerous work and get what you can when I'm not looking-for them? And you will get a fair share? Don't you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky." Bilbo was now beginning to feel really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug's roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled, and an unaccountable desire seized hold of him to rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth to Smaug. In fact he was in grievous danger of coming under the dragon-spell. But plucking up courage he spoke again. "You don't know everything, O Smaug the Mighty," said he. "Not gold alone brought us hither." "Ha! Ha! You admit the 'us'," laughed Smaug. "Why not say 'us fourteen' and be done with it. Mr. Lucky Number? I am pleased to hear that you had other business in these parts besides my gold. In that case you may, perhaps, not altogether waste your time. "I don't know if it has occurred to you that, even if you could steal the gold bit by bit-a matter of a hundred years or so - you could not get it very far? Not much use on the mountain-side? Not much use in the forest? Bless me! Had you never thought of the catch? A fourteenth share, I suppose, Or something like it, those were the terms, eh? But what about delivery? What about cartage? What about armed guards and tolls?" And Smaug laughed aloud. He had a wicked and a wily heart, and he knew his guesses were not far out, though he suspected that the Lake-men were at the back of the plans, and that most of the plunder was meant to stop there in the town by the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth. You will hardly believe it, but poor Bilbo was really very taken aback. So far all his. thoughts and energies had been concentrated on getting to the Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder how the treasure was to be removed, certainly never how any part of it that might fall to his share was to be brought back all the way to Bag-End Under-Hill. Now a nasty suspicion began to grow in his mind-had the dwarves forgotten this important point too, or were they laughing in their sleeves at him all the time? That is the effect that dragon-talk has on the inexperienced. Bilbo of course ought to have been on his guard; but Smaug had rather an overwhelming personality. "I tell you," he said, in an effort to remain loyal to his friends and to keep his end up, "that gold was only an afterthought with us. We came over hill and under hill, by wave and win, for "Revenge". Surely, O Smaug the unassessably wealthy, you must realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?" Then Smaug really did laugh-a devastating sound which shook Bilbo to the floor, while far up in the tunnel the dwarves huddled together and imagined that the hobbit had come to a sudden and a nasty end. "Revenge!" he snorted, and the light of his eyes lit the the hall from floor to ceiling like scarlet lightning. "Revenge! The King under the Mountain is dead and where are hi kin that dare seek revenge? Girion Lord of Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where are his sons' sons that dare approach me? I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today. Then I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong strong. Thief in the Shadows!" he gloated. "My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!" "I have always understood," said Bilbo in a frightened squeak, "that dragons were softer underneath, especially in the region of the-er-chest; but doubtless one so fortified has thought of that." The dragon stopped short in his boasting. "Your information is antiquated," he snapped. "I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me." "I might have guessed it," said Bilbo. "Truly there can; nowhere be found the equal of Lord Smaug the Impenetrable. What magnificence to possess a waistcoat of fine diamonds!" "Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed," said Smaug absurdly pleased. He did not know that the hobbit had already caught a glimpse of his peculiar under-covering on his previous visit, and was itching for a closer view for reasons of his own. The dragon rolled over. "Look!" he said. "What do you say to that?" "Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!" exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but what he thought inside was: "Old fool! Why there is a large patch in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!" After he had seen that Mr. Baggins' one idea was to get away. "Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer," he said, "or keep you from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars," he added as a parting shot, as he darted back and fled up the tunnel. It was an unfortunate remark, for the dragon spouted terrific flames after him, and fast though he sped up the slope, he had not gone nearly far enough to be comfortable before the ghastly head of Smaug was thrust against the opening behind. Luckily the whole head and jaws could not squeeze in, but the nostrils sent forth fire and vapour to pursue him, and he was nearly overcome, and stumbled blindly on in great pain and fear. He had been feeling rather pleased with the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug, but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense. "Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you fool!" he said to himself, and it became a favourite saying of his later, and passed into a proverb. "You aren't nearly through this adventure yet," he added, and that was pretty true as well. The afternoon was turning into evening when he came out again and stumbled and fell in a faint on the 'door-step.' The dwarves revived him, and doctored his scorches as well as they could; but it was a long time before the hair on the back of his head and his heels grew properly again: it had all been singed and frizzled right down to the skin. In the meanwhile his friends did their best to cheer him up; and they were eager for his story, especially wanting to know why the dragon had made such an awful noise, and how Bilbo had escaped. But the hobbit was worried and uncomfortable, and they had difficulty in getting anything out of him. On thinking things over he was now regretting some of the things he had said to the dragon, and was not eager to repeat them. The old thrush was sitting on a rock near by with his head cocked on one side, listening to all that was said. It shows what an ill temper Bilbo was in: he picked up a stone and threw it at the thrush, which merely fluttered aside and came back. "Drat the bird!" said Bilbo crossly. "I believe he is listening, and I don't like the look of him." "Leave him alone!" said Thorin. "The thrushes are good and friendly-this is a very old bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of the ancient breed that used to live about here, tame to the hands of my father and grandfather. They were a long-lived and magical race, and this might even be one of those that were alive then, a couple of hundreds years or more ago. The Men of Dale used to have the trick of understanding their language, and used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake and elsewhere." "Well, he'll have news to take to Lake-town all right, if that is what he is after," said Bilbo; "though I don't suppose there are any people left there that trouble with thrush-language." "Why what has happened?" cried the dwarves. "Do get on with your tale!" So Bilbo told them all he could remember, and he confessed that he had a nasty feeling that the dragon guessed too much from his riddles added to the camps and the ponies. "I am sure he knows we came from Lake-town and had help from there; and I have a horrible feeling that his next move may be in that direction. I wish to goodness I had never said that about Barrel-rider; it would make even a blind rabbit in these parts think of the Lake-men." "Well, well! It cannot be helped, and it is difficult not to slip in talking to a dragon, or so I have always heard," said Balin anxious to comfort him. "I think you did very well, if you ask me-you found out one very useful thing at any rate, and got home alive, and that is more than most can say who have had words with the likes of Smaug. It may be a mercy and a blessing yet to know of the bare patch in the old Worm's diamond waistcoat." That turned the conversation, and they all began discussing dragon-slayings historical, dubious, and mythical, and the various sorts of stabs and jabs and undercuts, and the different arts, devices and stratagems by which they had been accomplished. The general opinion was that catching a dragon napping was not as easy as it sounded, and the attempt to stick one or prod one asleep was more likely to end in disaster than a bold frontal attack. All the while they talked the thrush listened, till at last when the stars began to peep forth, it silently spread its wings and flew away. And all the while they talked and the shadows lengthened Bilbo became more and more unhappy and his foreboding At last he interrupted them. "I am sure we are very unsafe here," he said, "and I don't see the point of sitting here. The dragon has withered all the pleasant green, and anyway the night has come and it is cold. But I feel it in my bones that this place will be attacked again. Smaug knows now how I came down to his hall, and you can trust him to guess where the other end of the tunnel is. He will break all this side of the Mountain to bits, if necessary, to stop up our entrance, and if we are smashed with it the better he will like it." "You are very gloomy, Mr. Baggins!" said Thorin. "Why has not Smaug blocked the lower end, then, if he is so eager to keep us out? He has not, or we should have heard him." "I don't know, I don't know-because at first he wanted to try and lure me in again, I suppose, and now perhaps because he is waiting till after tonight's hunt, or because he does not want to damage his bedroom if he can help it - but I wish you would not argue. Smaug will be coming out at any minute now, and our only hope is to get well in the tunnel and shut the door." He seemed so much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he said, though they delayed shutting the door-it seemed a desperate plan, for no one knew whether or how they could get it open again from the inside, and the thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the dragon's lair was not one they liked. Also everything seemed quite quiet, both outside and down the tunnel. So for a longish while they sat inside not far down from the half-open door and went on talking. The talk turned to the dragon's wicked words about the dwarves. Bilbo wished he had never heard them, or at least that he could feel quite certain that the dwarves now were absolutely honest when they declared that they had never thought at all about what would happen after the treasure had been won. "We knew it would be a desperate venture," said Thorin, "and we know that still; and I still think that when we have won it will be time enough to think what to do about it. As for your share, Mr. Baggins, I assure you we are more than grateful and you shall choose you own fourteenth, as soon as we have anything to divide, am sorry if you are worried about transport, and I admit the difficulties are great-the lands have not become less wild with the passing of time, rather the reverse-but we will do whatever we can for you, and take our share of the cost when the time comes. Believe me or not as you like!" From that the talk turned to the great hoard itself and to the things that Thorin and Balin remembered. They wondered if they were still lying there.unharmed in the hall below: the spears that were made for the armies of the great King Bladorthin (long since dead), each had a thrice-forged head and their shafts were inlaid with cunning gold, but they were never delivered or paid for; shields made for warriors long dead; the great golden cup of Thror, two-handed, hammered and carven with birds and flowers whose eyes and petals were of jewels; coats of mail gilded and silvered and impenetrable; the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel. But fairest of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain. "The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!" murmured Thorin in the dark, half dreaming with his chin upon his knees. "It was like a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!" But the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo. All through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest to the door with one ear cocked for any beginnings of a sound without, his other was alert or echoes beyond the murmurs of the dwarves, for any whisper of a movement from far below. Darkness grew deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. "Shut the door!" he begged them. "I fear that dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far less than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too late!" Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable feeling. Slowly Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up he kicked away the stone that wedged the door. Then they thrust upon it, and it closed with a snap and a clang. No trace of a keyhole was there left on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain! And not a moment too soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the tunnel when a blow smote the side of the Mountain like the crash of battering-rams made of forest oaks and swung by giants. The rock boomed, the walls cracked and stones fell from the roof on their heads. What would have happened if the door had still been open I don't like to think. They fled further down the tunnel glad to be still alive, while behind them outside they heard the roar and rumble of Smaug's fury. He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff with the lashings of his huge tail, till their little lofty camping ground, the scorched grass, the thrush's stone, the snail-covered walls, the narrow ledge, and all disappeared in a jumble of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered stones fell over the cliff into the valley below. Smaug had left his lair in silent stealth, quietly soared into the air, and then floated heavy and slow in the dark like a monstrous crow, down the wind towards the west of the Mountain, in the hopes of catching unawares something or somebody there, and of spying the outlet to the passage which the thief had used. This was the outburst of his wrath when he could find nobody and see nothing, even where he guessed the outlet must actually be. After he had let off his rage in this way he felt better and he thought in his heart that he would not be troubled again from that direction. In-the meanwhile he had further vengeance to take. "Barrel-rider!" he snorted. "Your fee came from the waterside and up the water you came with out a doubt. I don't know your smell, but if you are not one of those men of the Lake, you had their help. They shall see me and remember who is the real King under the Mountain!" He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

#Hobbit

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