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shirefantasies · 8 months ago

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Roots Running Deep- Balin x F!Witch!Reader

This is a request by @that-teen2003! I didn’t post it with the ask just to save some spoilers for y’all 😉 I realized a little late that I flip flopped one detail a bit but I hope you still like it 🙋🏻‍♀️ thank you so much for this request, it ended up being one of my favorite things I’ve made here ever 🥺

Warnings: suggestive jokes, canon typical violence, some angst

“Why do you keep venturing out into the woods, eh, brother? If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was some sort of tryst,” Dwalin caught his brother on his way out, punctuating his teasing with a wink.

“What exactly are you insinuating, then?” Balin crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, you can’t be collecting herbs every other day, for stars’ sake! But if you’re meeting out in the woods, she must be quite ugly! What is it, no teeth? Beard a different color than the rest of her hair? Or is it that she isn’t dwarrow at all?”

Involuntary Balin winced, bringing first the widening of eyes and then the quirking of triumphant lip to his younger sibling’s face. “By my beard, you must be joking! How tall is she? Must like the way she picks you up and-”

“For goodness’s sakes, would you stop that?” It was rare for the elder son of Fundin to snap, but when his love was threatened in any way it was as easy an expenditure as taking a breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. I’ll not have you taking shots at the honor of one so fair. This is no Blue Mountain barmaid we’re talking about.”

Chuckling deeply, Dwalin shook his mohawked head. "Well, how did you meet, anyway? Someone from Dale, no doubt?"

"If she was from Dale, I would meet her more often in Dale," Balin reasoned, lifting his favorite mahogany-toned coat from their shared home's hook and pulling it on by the sleeve, "if you must know, she has a cottage in the woods. I met her through Oin. She helped him secure a fine stock of herbs, and I accompanied him on his return there."

Uncharacteristically softening, Dwalin's voice came so quiet Balin practically had to cross the room again just to hear him. "Is she your One?"

If he could see himself, Balin was sure he'd have looked a fool the way the twinkle leapt into his eye and the smile arched across his face. But he cared little. "Aye," was all he had to say before disappearing out the door.

You awaited him at the brookside just as you promised, dressed in a gorgeous gown of green, the perfect shade to bring out what of your skin could be seem, and with flowers crowning your head. Long sleeves flowing, you waved a hand at the dark-haired dwarf with a grin bright as the sun. How could it be that a gift of the earth like this, all but a daughter of Yavanna, be his? Poetry, truly, as Balin remembered the depictions of the tall, dark woman in green standing aside his people’s fiery-haired creator as his wife. Would you, then, stand beside him someday? Could you?

Flowers sprung at your bare feet as you crossed into the grass, extending your arms to him. You breathed his name like a promise, a hand raising to caress his cheek in greeting. Leaning into the warmth of your touch, Balin lets your name fall from his lips, his hands falling to your waist to pull you against him.

"Doing some gardening, my love?" You smile down at him.

"Not today," he shakes his head, "just wanted to see you."

"Oh? I better find something more entertaining than my trees," you joked.

"What are you doing with your trees?"

"A bit of grafting. Trying to see how many fruits I can get on one tree."

"How many are you up to now?"

You grin. "Care for a climb?"

Balin's hair is soft beneath your fingers as they card through the sunkissed dark brown. He rests lightly against your right shoulder carefully as he can while maintaining balance on the branch you pulled yourselves onto. His eyelids flutter shut in contentment, but your heightened senses feel some unrest in him.

“You feel tense. What is wrong?”

At your words, you really feel the muscles of his back twinge against your chest. He inhales, exhales palpably.

“The king,” he replies quietly, “Thror’s love of gold, we fear, has corrupted his mind. His son and grandson have taken up many kingdom affairs already. It weighs heavy upon us all. I admire you. So unlike us in that regard. No need for the material possessions that drive us dwarves crazy. Just living here amongst your plants.”

“They are all I need,” you reply, giving pause as your hand traces down his cheek, “well, almost…”

With that, you gently rotate him, turning to connect your lips with his and feel him smile against you.

“You’ve been at that for hours, brother.”

"Because," Balin replies, tone patient and slow as he places another of the series of miniscule gems he cut, "it must be perfect. Wouldn't you want yours to be?"

"'Course. Just can hardly believe all this before you introduce her. She coming to live under the mountain?"

"That I do not know. It might not be good for her.” Balin sighs ruefully, voice going quiet. “Might not be good for anybody.”

Smoke. Fire. The sounds of screams as people pour from the mountain and the city at its foot alike. The dwarves have feared for the king, unaware of greater looming threats upon their horizon for who knows how long. And now the world has made good upon its punishment, raining shadow, flame, theft upon Erebor and undoing centuries of culture and livelihood. There is no use fighting, not with a fire drake, a beast with scales as shields and boundless conflagration at a single breath.

They need to run. Leave all that is held and loved behind if they wish to live, have any hope of preserving what once was. Memory, art, family, the beloved strength and endurance known to all dwarves. Reduced now to running or dying.

The prince himself had grabbed Balin, taken him by the arm and pulled him away from the flame just in time, yet they could still feel the searing heat in the air; still they perspire beneath it as they barrel into the king's hall. Thror hardly will part with a single piece of his massive fortune, so he must be dragged to safety beneath the arms of his kin as the great calamity Smaug makes straight for the royal hall.

Heart hammering, Balin drowns out all thought as his legs pump again and again, focus only on cover, safety. As the woods come into view, or as he should say what is left of them, the adrenaline haze begins its fade and the mental clouds part to reveal you. Were you safe? Were your trees, your wards, your... Shakily Balin reaches a hand into his pocket, entire body deflating with the exhale of relief he gives. The bead is there, safe and sound. But would you understand?

Mahal has surely blessed him, for as he wanders the woods, knowing the others will be after them soon, he finds a scrap of parchment, a pen with enough for the briefest message to leave at the foot of your tree, your glorious creation of many fruits.

The others all but yank him out of the woods and call him mad. The parchment, tear-stained and opened with your name, reads in Balin’s ever-steady hand:

We are so different, you and I, but fate is fate. Be it Mahal’s will or perhaps even Yavanna’s, I will be back for you. My heart breaks that I can’t braid it in myself, but if you’ll still wed me please wear this gift I made for you. I can only imagine how beautiful it shall look in your hair or wherever you choose to keep it.

I love you. I will never stop.

Balin

And with that he is forced to run into the chaos again, to witness his kinsman and the men he called neighbors flung like petty dolls by a great thrashing beast, bodies rent in two as though they are mere straw. Straw, however, does not bleed.

Mahal help them all.

The cracking of branches alerts you to the potential intruders, diverting your attention from the little patch of fire lilies you’ve been watering.

Fire lilies. Like little sunbursts they are, and yet still after all these years, several decades in fact, something about their intensity brought a recess of your mind back to the day of the drake’s attack. Smaug took everything from the people of Erebor, but from you as well.

Loneliness, after all, is the greatest curse of your long years, your many lives of men and women passing as seasons, all you know withering away like flowers in winter.

The love you had cultivated all those years ago, nourishing with every book Balin read you and every stroke of the bushy hair he somehow kept impossibly soft, every word of botany the dwarf learned for you and every healing herb you demonstrated and gifted to his people, is still in full bloom, though the sight of the lilies thorns your chest with questions that never quiet. Is Balin still alive? Had he even survived the attack, your head will evilly inquire, given his frequent proximity to the throne room, the great hall of kings that you know the dragon has taken to?

Guilt also. As the massacre took place, you had gone to the far edge of your woods, focusing every drop of magic in you upon sealing them, protecting them. Making them a safe place first anyone seeking refuge there. And yet you had seen no one, not a single survivor braving your grounds. So the loneliness drags on. What a waste of your power, you let yourself think sometimes, save for the wards that still remain to this day.

Train of your dress dragging at your feet, you keep walking past the lilies, sigh as you reenter the domain of your great steadfast trees.

You must confess that the tree you carved your sign, even if it was your child of seven fruits, in was of less significance to you before the day of blood and fire. Flame and screams and steel and all the things you understood least. That night is when you found it, after all: laying at its roots had been a hastily torn scrap scrawled with words that rent your heart and poured hours of tears from your eyes. And the bead, oh, the bead, possibly the last work of Balin’s hand. You could not bear anyone but your beloved braiding it onto you, thus it hangs from the thin chain about your neck, swinging above your heart. Yes, your tree of seven fruits had simply been an experiment then, and now and forever it is a memory.

Shaking the ache from your chest, you steady your feet and raise your hands, approaching the area from which the alerting sound had come. A young dwarf in brown bursts from the brush, screaming about a witch and aiming a slingshot at you. Shaking, he does not fire, his light brown eyes meeting the sadness in yours, the weight of memories and his words alike.

Your head snaps up as more heads pop forth, first a doting older one you can tell is the boy’s brother, then a more handsome golden-haired figure and one that has your mouth agape.

“Balin?”

You rush to him, feel his hands grope for yours and kneel down, crumpling into his chest. It is him, for no illusion can be so strong and cruel a ruse as to bear his scent, to hold you and run his thumb over the back of your hand in the same manner. His hair is white now, pure as snow, but the earnest, hopeful wisdom in his dark eyes has not aged a single year. The way he whispers your name like it answers his every prayer, even when his voice quavers, remains and it shatters your chest and builds it right back up.

“It must break your heart to see me like this.”

A single warm tear escapes your right eye as you shake your head, words failing you in favor of a smile half crumpled by your tears. In response you take his hands again, this time holding them for just a moment before you raise them to his bead upon your chain.

Finally your voice returns, shaky as it may be. “I never took it off. Not a single day. Your letter…”

This time it is Balin’s turn to part his lips in surprise. “You cannot mean that.”

“I can and I do. Balin, my life is nothing if it is spent alone. My heart was fractured that day, tucked unknowingly in your coat, but I knew not if I had buried it. Never again am I taking that chance. Let me have the honor of being bound to you. Please.”

Balin’s eyes dart thoughtfully between your joined hands, his stroking over yours once more, your eyes, the gaze that pours so much love into him it’s enough to make a grown dwarf cry, and finally your bead, the tiny emerald chips he’d set by hand so many years ago still glistening with all the love and care he’d placed into them. You hadn’t simply worn it, you’d cared for it.

Again he speaks your name, the finest music you’ve ever heard, and you cannot wait to hear him say it again and again. “You know that what I said is true. Still is. If you will have this old fool of course he’ll have you. May I?”

Nodding, you turn around, letting his aged but still quite nimble fingers undo your chain as you settle yourself onto the grass. The other dwarves swarm you, the younger and more indignant-looking ones quite literally buzzing around you. A taller one with tattoos across his shaven head holds them back with a stern look and the raise of a knuckle-dustered hand.

“Have you never listened to a word he said? A tale he told? My brother has been waiting far too long for this moment. Let him have it.”

At that, you broke completely, bursting into a near-delirious smile and interrupting your beloved’s work upon your hair with your lips upon his, half surprised by his passion and half blind to all but the taste of love upon your lips once more, white roses blooming in a circle around your seated forms.

Signs of love most pure.

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

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons #thorin’s company x reader #balin #balin x reader #balin x female reader #female reader #witch reader #one shot #that-teen2003 #requested

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mrkida-art · 1 year ago

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have you ever drawn fundin, adad of dwalin and balin? /genq

I have actually, I just haven't posted it anywhere (UNTIL NOOOW)

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veryace-ficrecs · 3 months ago

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Hobbit Culture and Customs Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Lionheart - A Marriage Day in the Shire by Windholm - Rated G

Hobbiton was bustling with excitement, the entirety of the Shire was... Or Just a little fanfic about Frodo not following Gandalf, Bilbo and the last elves to Valinor, remaining instead to be with his one true love, and the very day their union is finally coronated...

Leaves of Years by StalwartNavigator (Fallwater023) - Rated G

"Frodo and Sam had wandered off a short while ago, and he could just make them out, sitting in a clearing that caught the last of the daylight. It looked like they were weaving flower crowns." Boromir is oblivious, Merry is panicked, Pip is also a bit oblivious bless him, and Frodo and Sam are done waiting.

Now See Here by onward_came_the_meteors - Rated G

"It's, ah… what, now?" Boromir asked. "Rock, paper, scissors. I know what you're thinking, but sometimes desperate times call for desperate--" "No, but… what, now?" Oh. This, he hadn't thought of. "Do they not have rock, paper, scissors in Gondor?" Frodo asked. Pippin and Merry also looked quizzically toward Boromir, who shifted his shield. "I suppose not, since I've never heard of that in my life." "You explain it then, Pip." ______________________ A mishap while traveling leaves the Fellowship with an unlikely solution. And no, Aragorn, no one cares what the game was called in Rivendell.

Tea's At Four by firesteel - Rated G

“Er, hello? Are these the Halls of Mahal?” Thousands of disbelieving eyes stuck to Bilbo as he stepped forward cautiously, already quite fed up with the rudeness of dwarves. Who puts an anvil there? Nobody answered. “I’m looking for dwarves. Thirteen of them-- not anyone, mind you, but thirteen very specific dwarves.”

From the crowd, thirteen voices start yelling at the same time.

Midwinter by determamfidd - Rated G

The different peoples of Middle-Earth have their own ways of farewelling the old year and greeting the new. Each race has its own rich customs and traditions to mark the winter solstice and the longest night of the year. Each is as distinct and unique as snow is to fire.

(But as the wise know, people are always people.)

A Confusing Hobbit Afterlife, as told by Frodo Baggins by Tamloid - Rated G

Frodo Baggins, like most hobbits, never really expected to have an afterlife. It was perfectly pleasant here in Yavanna’s Garden, he supposed, it’s just...where in the world was his Uncle Bilbo? And why was there a large mirror behind Bag End?

The Hobbit Way by ChisakiTenko - Rated T

Bilbo was known for being patient, but one thing he would sit on no longer was his dwarves and their lack of proper breaks! It was high time someone taught them how to do things the hobbit way - with lots of singing, dancing, eating, and a cute fauntling running about.

Slipper by Saentorine - Rated G

Pippin is caught stealing extra portions of the company's provisions, and Aragorn and Legolas connect over a particular way Elven fathers get their children's attention.

Petals to the Metal by Tamloid - Rated G

Dwalin, son of Fundin, was one of the mightiest warriors of his generation, but even he couldn’t hold out against such a relentless foe. It seemed that he would have to be the Daisy King.

The Statute of Finwë and Míriel by bunn - Rated G

Bilbo Baggins has left the Shire forever, and gone to live in Rivendell. He's beginning work on his Translations from the Elvish, and has started on translating an obscure text which puzzles him greatly. Elrond has some helpful ideas.

when i consider everything that grows by wrishwrosh - Rated T

Frodo was not precisely certain what a hobbit in love was supposed to do. He had taken to staring at the ceiling while thinking about Sam’s eyes, and frequently reliving in his mind’s eye every time he had ever made Sam laugh. In which Sam is Frodo’s first love, and Frodo has no earthly idea what to do about it.

Of Shields and Love by Porphyrios - Rated T

As the dwarves began to sort the hoard of precious items, they discovered that Smaug had brought things from some undiscovered hoard in the north when he took the mountain. Tensions rise as the elves seek to reclaim their lost treasures from Gondolin. Most interesting of all is a shield…

Fairy-tales, Cabbages & Potatoes by bunn - Rated G

"Many's the talk I had with [Bilbo] when I was a little lad" Sam Gamgee says, and then much later: "I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales...you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book." So here is young Sam Gamgee hearing far-off tales of Elves, Bilbo Baggins, trying to piece together the tale of the Silmarils for the first time, Frodo Baggins being a wild young mushroom-stealing tearaway who matures into an earnest scholar, and Merry Brandybuck and Sam Gamgee getting started on their great Conspiracy.

#veryace recs #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #lotr #frodo baggins #bilbo baggins #samwise gamgee #hobbits #hobbit culture and customs #fanfic recs #ao3 fic recs #ao3

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 5 months ago

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Day 4- New Plot Bunnies Winner

I've been very excited for this AU and I hope you guys have been as well! This isn't exactly where I would start the beginning of the fic, but it's definitely the beginning of the action.

The Raven Prince

Rating: T

Warning(s): Assumed Character Death

Ship: Bagginshield

Summary: Thorin thought his life was working perfectly. He had good friends, was the prince to the wealthiest kingdom in Middle Earth, and the love of his life just agreed to marry him. However, that changes when Erebor is approached by a sorcerer who flexes his power and influence on Thorin. Now he’s a raven and he must somehow save Bilbo, save his kingdom, and get his father’s blessing before it’s too late.

Thorin was rushed through the royal wing, valets doing their best to dress him in a regal coat and jewels on the go. Balin and Dwalin were trying to interrogate him about where he was the previous night. Images of his hobbit, grinning brightly as he jumped into Thorin’s arms in acceptance of his proposal, came bidden to the forefront of his mind, nearly pulling a grin along with it. His best friend since childhood wanted to become his consort. It was like a dream come true. He didn’t know what his father would say, and he didn’t care. For once, Thorin was going to do what made him happy.

Finally, they reached the corridor which would open behind the throne. Thorin was all but shoved through the door to take his place beside the king. Thrain looked over at him as Thorin merely raised an eyebrow in return. Thrain scowled, which was becoming a familiar expression to Thorin as of late.

“Where have you been?” Thrain demanded.

“I would prefer to discuss it later.” Thorin murmured back.

“Damn it, Thorin! When are you going to grow up and behave as is expected of your station?”

“I didn’t realize my station was to be chained to your side as a pretty pet to be brought out on special occasions.”

Thrain jumped to his feet, ignoring the gasps and murmurs from the crowd of dwarves gathered. Thorin merely glared back into his good eye, challenging him to refute it. Before the king could utter another word, Fundin interrupted.

“Master Smaug from the north mountains to see you, Sire.”

Thrain turned back, glaring at his advisor before taking note of their audience. Thrain grumbled before returning to the throne and motioning for the guards to send him in. Rather than a dwarf, a tall man wearing a dark cloak entered the throne room. The room grew quiet and tense as the braziers along the wall flickered with every step the man took. A word was being whispered around the hall. Sorcerer.

“My King, My Prince, thank you for welcoming me into your halls.”

“Master Smaug, to what do we owe your presence?” Thrain asked carefully.

“I’m here to warn you that war is coming.”

Murmurs broke out amongst the dwarves present as Thorin felt his hand fall to the sword at his side.

“Who would dare to challenge the might of Erebor?” Thorin demanded.

Smaug’s grin turned feral, sending a wave of ice along Thorin’s spine.

“Well, I would.”

The murmurs turned to cries of outrage that even had Thrain jumping to his feet. Smaug seemed unperturbed as the guards closed in, hands on their weapons.

“My orc army will be here within the fortnight. Your mountain will fall. Your people, massacred, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Why tell us this? Is it to gloat?” Thorin snarled.

“Nothing so baseless.” Smaug scoffed. “It’s a demonstration, and a chance to offer you salvation. Turn over half your treasury to me, and I will spare you this fate.”

Thorin was taken aback. On one hand, that was a hefty sum, but half the treasury against the wellbeing of their people. Could they honestly turn down such an offer?

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.” Thrain announced, causing Thorin to whip around in shock.

“Father, can we really afford to risk war for gold?”

“My king, perhaps we should take the time to consider…” Fundin also tried imploring upon his king.

“No!” Thrain announced, ignoring them both. “I will not be coerced by threats and bribes! We don’t even have proof of such an army.”

“You’ll have your proof soon enough.” Smaug growled. “At which point my price will have gone up.”

“You can’t do that!” Thorin roared.

“Do not mistake me for a wandering wizard, Prince Thorin!” Smaug snapped, flames rising around him forcing everyone to step back. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“And you don’t know who you’re dealing with. We are Erebor, the greatest dwarf kingdom of Middle Earth! Your army will fall!” Thrain boasted.

“Yet no army should be without its leader.” Smaug sneered.

Thorin’s eyes widened as he saw the intent of the sorcerer. Without even wasting a thought on it, Thorin threw himself in front of his father. The bolt of magic struck him true, lighting his every nerve on fire.

“THORIN! NO!” Thrain shouted.

It was the last thing Thorin heard before disappearing in a puff of smoke and black raven feathers.

***

New Shire lay in the valley between Erebor and Mirkwood. After the tragedy of the Long Winter that happened far before Bilbo had even been born, many hobbits left their homes and moved East. Thain Fortinbras Took, Bilbo’s great-grandfather, made a plea to the dwarf king to be allowed to settle outside their mountain. In exchange for protection, they would grow the crops to share with Erebor. It was an easy alliance to make, and dwarves and hobbits have lived in harmony ever since.

Bilbo had been outside his grandparents’ smial, in the garden daydreaming of all the flowers he would like to weave in Thorin’s hair when he received the news. His heart plummeted, pleading with Bofur for it not to be true. Thorin couldn’t be gone. It had to be a mistake. It wasn’t though. The entire mountain was in mourning, and Bilbo had been invited to join them. He declined. Bilbo walked into his bedroom, and he didn’t come out for several days. No matter how much his grandparents pleaded with him, Bilbo just couldn’t find the stamina to pull himself out of bed.

His hair was a mess of limp, greasy curls. His face, red and tear-stained. His stomach tied in knots, both simultaneously starving and nauseous. It was on the evening of the tenth day that Bilbo finally found it in him to find some manner of closure. He slipped out his window and walked towards their tree. It had always been in some manner a sanctuary towards him, but tonight it was nothing more than a memorial. He placed a hand on the cool bark, and promptly fell into a sobbing mess.

Great wracking heaves that pulled him to his knees as his arms wrapped around his middle. Something cool hit his cheek. His engagement bead. In a fit of rage, Bilbo yanked the damn thing off, pulling several hairs out with it, and chunked it into the darkened forest. The moment he did it, he immediately regretted it. That was the last piece he had of Thorin, and now it was likely lost forever. Bilbo put his back to the tree and leaned against the trunk as he continued to wail out his sorrow. Maybe he would just wait here. Wait here for Thorin to return and let it all be a lie, or for him to waste away and join him. Bilbo closed his eyes tightly, picturing his dwarf.

“Thorin. I wish you were here with me right now.” He whispered.

There was a rustle and what sounded like the flap of wings. Bilbo slowly opened his eyes right as a large raven burst through the brush to land on his shoulder. Bilbo looked at it aghast only to notice something in its beak. He held his hand out, and the bird dropped Bilbo’s bead into his palm. Bilbo felt a catch in his chest before he turned to the bird with a watery smile.

“Thank you.”

The raven nodded its head, remaining right where it was on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Don’t you have messages to deliver?” Bilbo tried to remind it.

The bird cawed at him before dipping its head under Bilbo’s chin and rubbing against him. Bilbo laughed as the feathers tickled his neck.

“Alright, alright!” He scolded good-naturedly. “Enough of that.”

The raven didn’t relent immediately. Only after Bilbo pushed it off his shoulder completely. At which point the raven fluttered for a moment before landing on his other shoulder.

Bilbo sighed. “You’re as stubborn as a dwarf.”

The raven cawed at him again.

“Are you lost?” He asked.

The raven didn’t provide him with an answer, but Bilbo was willing to bet that was a yes. Now he really was becoming reminded of a very particular dwarf. A pang of longing hit him square in the chest, and Bilbo took to petting the raven’s head if only to keep himself from falling apart once more. He gave the raven a weak smile.

“Come on.” He whispered. “Let’s get you back to Ravenhill.”

Bilbo kept himself occupied by talking to the raven. He told him of his home and his grandparents. Told him about his job in the mountain and his friends. He asked after the raven. About where it had been and if it had been gone long which led to a more painful topic.

“The Crown Prince has…died.” He croaked. “I don’t know if you know that. It’s been…hard for me because you see he gave me the hair bead that you so kindly returned. He was my best friend, and…the love of my life. I don’t quite know what to do with myself now that he isn’t here.”

The raven was very sympathetic, using its beak to comb through Bilbo’s curls. He gave it a weak smile and a gentle rub under its chin.

“In any case,” Bilbo sighed. “We’re almost home for you. I’m sure the other ravens will tell you all about it.”

They finally crested to the top of Ravenhill, and Bilbo took just a moment to admire the view of the valley in the moonlight. This was one of Thorin’s favorite spots to just come up to and think. Considering they were on the backside of the mountain from where the rookery was, it was nearly always unoccupied and so serene.

The raven suddenly gave a caw, startling Bilbo as it took flight. He spun around only to gasp. The moonlight hit the bird to make steam rise up and surround it, obscuring it from view for only a moment before someone else stood there. Someone Bilbo thought he would never get to see again.

Thorin looked down at his hands in wonder before he turned his hopeful gaze onto the hobbit.

“Bilbo?” He spoke.

Bilbo couldn’t even think to form a response before he had fallen over in a dead faint.

#birthday wips and things #the hobbit #bagginshield #the raven prince #swan princess au #new plot bunny winner

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blackarrcw · 10 months ago

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@sapphircs | random starter.

The road to recovering their homeland had not been quite the easiest. With much stepping into their path trying to block the way, enemies chasing the company across the whole of Middle-Earth, it was certainly not a quest for the feint of heart.

Months had passed since the Battle of Five Armies. Erebor had been thriving under Dain's reign while Thorin and his nephews healed, each member of the line of Durin waking one by one over time. The elder of the three having woken up last due to how grievous his injuries were and how lucky he was to even have survived. They had all been lucky in their survival - with the elves as well as Tharkun helping in the aid. Another some few months would pass before either of the royals were able to fully walk around the halls of the mountain without any assistance or feeling as though they'd fall right there to their knees.

Eventually Thorin had been well enough to take the throne, coronation day having been set and whatnot between Balin and Dain. A thing that one would normally dread though Thorin had been raised to be prepared for times such as this, though it didn't mean that he wasn't without his fair share of nerves. Dwalin had tried his best to ease his friend and king, but no words given had settled the warrior's anxiousness. Usually speaking with either of the brothers of Fundin would have worked but for whatever reason; it hadn't seemed to work this time.

Damn it all.

There had been one last person he had not had the chance to see since his awakening, he'd missed her presence; her positivity - overall, her company. It would be a bit before he could break away from all of the meetings that had been scheduled, needing to get through the important parts first. As time would pass the meetings would end for the day allowing the brunette some time to himself. Once all had left the meeting hall, the warrior had slipped out last, a cloak in hand treading down the newly rebuilt halls of Erebor.

Thinya's shop his next destination.

#sapphircs #𝑨 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫: post botfa #( muse: thorin oakenshield )

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the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy · 4 months ago

Text

The Way It Comes To Be- Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Someone very important has just arrived in Erebor.

Link on Ao3

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Thorin x Bilbo, Kili x Tauriel

***

Chapter 8: Once There Was A Way

Many weeks later…

“There it is, your ladyship, the Lonely Mountain.”

Dis lifted her eyes from the map in her hands and saw the beautiful view in front of her. The Lonely Mountain stood high and mighty in the horizon, with the city of Dale beneath it. Dis could even see the gates of the palace, which looked refurbished. She was finally going to be home, after more than 25 years.

Her oceanic eyes scanned the landscape. “We're finally home,” she breathed with nostalgia. “How long do we estimate until we reach dale?”

“We will probably get to the gates of Dale in around three more hours,” responded the dwarf next to her. “However, we can go around and get directly to Erebor, which will take a little more than four hours.”

“Let's go through Dale, we don't want to scare anyone by going around. Additionally, I need to speak to Thorin as soon as we get there,” Dis said. The large crew of dwarfs began walking in the direction of the great city. They walked and walked for many hours, until they reached the main gates. They were open, and still under construction.

A man in armor noticed the large crew entering the city and approached them. “Greetings,” he said. “What is your business here in Dale?”

“Greetings,” Dis bowed in front of the man. “The name is Dis Durin, sister of King Thorin. We are looking for him.”

“Are the King's advisors aware of your arrival?” the man asked.

“I am certain that they are aware,” Dis responded calmly. “I'm sure Dwalin son of Fundin can confirm your doubts.”

“Alright, we'll go get him,” the man said. “Just wait here in the main square.”

The large crew of dwarves set their things and sat down. After all, they were exhausted after walking for weeks almost non stop. Dis patiently waited for Dwalin to arrive. She could easily go to Erebor by herself, and see her brother and her children before anyone else, but because she was also exhausted, she decided go wait.

She looked around the town square and its buildings. They were old and worn out by the years and by Smaug’s demise. However, they looked better than before. Dis assumed that the people that settled here might’ve repainted them, which warmed her heart.

As she looked around, she began to remember the days were the city was vibrant and thriving before Smaug attacked. She could easily picture the beautiful marble buildings and the newly placed stone tiles. Hundreds of people walked along the streets, both human and dwarfish. She even pictured herself walking in those streets as a young dwarf, looking for new jewelry or clothing to buy. Those days were bright and peaceful, filled with joy and tranquility.

“Hello,” greeted another man. He had long, straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. There was a bow with arrows behind his back. However, he was clearly not an elf, even if he was fairly tall for most humans. “My name is Bard, current governor of Dale.”

“Hello,” greeted Dis. “I am Dis Durin, daughter of Thrain, sister to Thorin. I suppose that we haven't met.”

“We have not,” said Bard. “Thorin mentioned you. I suppose that you are looking for him.”

“Yes,” Dis replied. “It's been years since I've seen him.”

“You're probably excited to see him,” Bard replied.

“I really am,” mentioned Dis. Just then, a familiar figure began walking down the stairs into the main square. It was Dwalin, who according to Dis, looked exactly the same as the last time she saw him all of those years ago.

“Dis?!” Dwalin exclaimed. He beamed in happiness as he saw his cousin, who hasn't aged one bit. Dwalin ran to her and hugged her tightly.

“It's so good to see you!” Dwalin beamed. “We didn't you coming so early!”

“We didn't expect to come so early either,” Dis laughed. “But, here we are. Oh, it's so good to be back!”

“Thorin probably knows you're here now,” Dwalin said. “Let me take you to the palace! They already arranged a room for you.”

Before Dis followed Dwalin into the palace, she organized the group of dwarves that were with her. She gave instructions on where to settle down in the meantime. After this, Dis followed Dwalin in direction to the grand palace of Erebor, and the rest of the dwarves followed. The dwarves settled themselves in an area near the outskirts of the city before homes were assigned, settleing their camp. Dis followed Dwalin into a small passage that was one of the shortcuts to the inside of the palace. She recognized it easily since it was one of the paths she used to sneak out whenever it was possible.

When they got inside, Dis gawked in amazement at seeing the familiar sight. The turquoise palace was still the same as it was years ago. It still needed some more reconstruction, but it barely changed.

“Dis!” It was Balin, who had a wide smile on his face at the sight of his cousin.

The young dwarf ran to her cousin and embraced him warmly. It was amazing seeing her home after more than 20 years and seeing her family after a long time as well, which wanted to make her cry tears of joy.

“Cousin!,” Dis exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you again! I- How- how are you?”

“I’m doing good,” Balin said. “We’ve just been busy lately, with Thorin about to be crowned king and all.”

“Speaking of Thorin, where is he?” Dis asked.

“He’s probably around here,” Balin replied. “Come on!”

Balin led Dis around the palace and headed to the Throne Room, where Thorin was talking to Bilbo. They seemed to be deep in conversation about something, because none of them noticed Balin’s presence before he had to speak up.

“Thorin?” Balin called. “There is someone here that would like to see you.”

Thorin, still focused on Bilbo, growled in irritation, “I am slightly busy at the moment!” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air, but before he could speak again, Dis stepped forward from the shadows, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Thorin?” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. The sound of his name on her lips was enough to make Thorin freeze in place, his heart skipping a beat. He turned slowly, his breath catching as he met his sister’s eyes. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around them fading into the background.

Dis took a hesitant step forward, her sky blue eyes brimming with tears. “It’s really you,” she breathed, her voice thick with disbelief and overwhelming relief. “After all these years...”

Thorin’s tough exterior cracked, his hardened expression softening as the reality of the moment sank in. “Dis,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of shock and joy. His eyes traced her face, taking in every detail as if he couldn’t quite believe she was standing before him. His little sister was actually here.

Bilbo, who was also as shocked as Thorin, quietly stepped back, giving the siblings the space they needed. He could see the depth of their bond, the unspoken love and the years of separation that now hung in the air between them.

Thorin took a shaky step toward his sister, his hand reaching out to her as if afraid she might vanish. Dis closed the distance, wrapping her arms around her oder brother in a tight embrace, the years of pain and longing melting away in that moment. Thorin held her close, his eyes shutting tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hitching with the flood of emotions he had held back for so long.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Dis whispered, her voice breaking. “But you actually did it… You brought back our home.”

Thorin’s voice was thick with emotion as he replied, “It wasn’t just me, I had help: from Balin and Dwalin, Fili and Kili-”

“WHERE ARE THEY?” Dis asked desperately. “Where are my babies?! Are they okay?! Are they still here?! Thorin I swear-”

“They’re here!” Thorin interrupted, gripping his sister’s shoulders firmly to steady her. “They’ll probably be here soon, I promise.”

Dis let out a shaky sigh of relief, but her eyes remained fierce, as if she was ready to charge out and find them herself. “If you’re lying to me, Thorin-” her voice wavered, but there was no mistaking the edge of desperation in it.

“I would never lie to you about this,” Thorin said softly, his grip tightening slightly as if to reassure her further. “They’re alive, Dis. They’re alive.”

Just as he finished speaking, two figures appeared in the doorway of the Throne Room. It was Fili and Kili, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief as they saw their mother standing before them.

Dis spun around, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes locked onto her sons. The emotions she had kept at bay for so long crashed over her in a tidal wave, and she let out a hitched gasp, almost a scream, as tears poured down her cheeks.

“Mom?” Fili breathed, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes.

“Kili, Fili...” Dis sobbed, her legs threatening to give way as she took a step toward them. “My boys... you’re really here...”

Fili and Kili rushed forward, wrapping their arms around her, holding her as if they never wanted to let go. Dis clung to them, her body shaking with sobs, whispering their names over and over as if to reassure herself that they were truly there, alive and in her arms. She kissed the side of their heads as many times as she could before tightly embracing them once more. Losing her two children was one of her worst fears, especially after losing Vili (2), her husband.

“You’re alive!” Dis gasped, holding her children’s face. “My boys! I thought I’d lost you.”

Fili and Kili still had their arms around their mother, and were overcome with emotions as well, with tears brimming in their eyes. Thorin watched them, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and pride, his eyes misting over at the sight of his family reunited.

“Mom, we’re okay!” Kili said, slowly letting go of his mother’s embrace.

“We’re still here, mom, and we won’t go anywhere,” Fili replied, reassuring his mother.

“Oh, you better not!” Dis teased, still hugging her children. She then turned around to face Thorin and noticed Bilbo, who caught her by surprise.

“I…I’m so sorry, I haven’t greeted you properly,” Dis said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She then walked towards the hobbit and firmly stood in front of him. How come a hobbit ended up working with her brother?

“I’m Dis,” she said, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you! You must be…”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo clarified. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, and I am… part of the Royal Council, nice to meet you.” He did not know if he should say he was Thorin’s partner, friend, or companion, just in case Dis did not know Thorin was attracted to males. Wait… were he and Thorin officially a couple?

“Bilbo,” Dis repeated his name, which sounded pleasant when she pronounced it. “This is my first time seeing a hobbit in Dwarf territory, so may I ask, how did you end up here in Erebor?”

“Well, it is a fantastic and long story,” replied Bilbo, glancing at his dwarf. “I was basically hired by your brother.”

Dis was now very intrigued with Bilbo’s words. In the years she has know her brother, Thorin didn’t really like associating with beings outside the dwarf speicies, but since she hasn’t seen him in years, it looks like he radically changed his mind.

“It must be fascinating,” Dis smiled back at Bilbo. “I already heard of how the dwarves recaptured Erebor, but I’d be interested in hearing YOUR side of the tale, Bilbo.”

Bilbo blushed slightly, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. “Well,” he began, his voice a little hesitant, “I don’t know if my side of the story is all that special, really.”

“Oh, but it must be,” Dis said, warmly. “We have a lot to catch up on, Bilbo.”

The hobbit simply smiled and Dis turned back to Thorin, who was closely standing besides Bilbo.

“I must talk to you about the dwarves that I brought along,” Dis told her brother. “They wish to see you and negotiate where they would be settling. There are multiple families, all past citizens of Erebor.”

“We can arrange a meeting with them,” Thorin replied. “And we can determine where they can settle down. Do you know if more dwarves will arrive to Dale?”

“There is another group coming along,” Dis said. “However, they won’t come until the summer.”

“It is settled then,” Thorin stated. “We can have the meeting tomorrow. Let them get some rest. You should get some as well.”

“Thank you,” Dis replied, warmly. “Right now, I must go talk to them and inform them about the meeting. You don’t happen to have additional supplies right now? There are some in great need of medicine and food.”

“We do,” Balin interjected. “I can show you where that is kept, and I can lead you back to the camp.”

Dis nodded and Balin began to make his way out of the Throne Room, but before she followed her cousin, she ran up to Thorin and gave him another tight hug.

“Thank you,” Dis whispered. “I know that you will make a great king, brother.” Thorin smiled, but felt uneasy with Dis’s last comment. He could feel that great burden of being king sit on his shoulders once more, and this time, it felt heavier.

Dis went back to her children and hugged them tightly, kissing each of their heads. “Now, my boys, I need you to tell me everything that happened,” she said. “Come along! I want to know every little detail.” Fili and Kili followed their mother and Balin, who were deep in conversation and laughter. Thorin’s heart filled with warmth and satisfaction at the sight he was witnessing. Was this all a dream? He had almost everything he wanted: his family reunited, a loving companion like Bilbo, and his kingdom.

However, there was still something that did not feel right, and Thorin could not exactly tell what it was.

He was still in pain, but not exactly in physical or emotional pain, for his injuries were making a successful recovery. It was more like a spiritual pain, a deep ache that seemed to settle in the very core of his being, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone with his thoughts. Even if it didn’t bother him too much, its presence was unmistakable like a shadow that refused to fade. Was it the sequels of Dragon Sickness? The pain of the war? The burden of leading his people into war? The countless lives lost under his command? He did not know. The uncertainty gnawed at him, eroding the peace and calm he had fought so hard to achieve. (3)

“Thorin?” Bilbo called. Thorin slightly jumped, realizing that he got lost in thought. He turned to meet Bilbo’s gaze, those familiar hazel eyes searching his face with a mix of concern and worry.

“Sorry, I… I got lost in thought,” Thorin said, his voice a bit rougher than he intended. He tried to force a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Bilbo was not fooled, and he got closer to Thorin, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Something is bothering you,” Bilbo stated. “I can tell. Thorin, what's wrong?”

Thorin hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “It's nothing,” Thorin stated, trying to brush it off. He didn’t want to burden Bilbo with his troubles, not after everything they had been through.

Bilbo didn’t let go, his grip on Thorin’s arm tightened just slightly, grounding him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know,” Bilbo said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re carrying something inside you, Thorin, and I know it's weighing on you, but please, you don't have to keep it to yourself… it's only going to hurt you more.”

Thorin sighed, the weight on his chest feeling just a little lighter at Bilbo’s words. “I… I’m not sure what it is, Bilbo,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “There’s… a pain, deep inside, something I can’t shake off. It’s not my wounds since they’re healing well enough. It’s something else… something I can’t quite name.”

Even if Bilbo was just as confused as Thorin, his expression softened, and he moved even closer, wrapping his arms around Thorin in a comforting embrace. “Whatever it is, you know we’ll figure it out together,” he whispered against Thorin’s shoulder. “You’re not alone, Thorin. Not anymore.”

Thorin allowed himself to lean into Bilbo’s warmth, drawing strength from his presence, his head nuzzled between the crook of his neck. He didn’t have all the answers, and perhaps he wouldn't have them soon, but with Bilbo by his side, the burden felt a little more bearable. “Thank you,” he murmured, slowly letting go of the hug. “Thank you for staying by my side.”

“Always,” Bilbo replied, his voice filled with unwavering sincerity. “I’ll always be here, Thorin. No matter what.”

Thorin's hands remained on Bilbo's shoulders, his eyes lingering on the hobbit’s face. There was a pause, a moment suspended in time, where the weight of everything left unsaid seemed to hang in the air between them.

Bilbo's breath hitched as he looked up at Thorin, seeing something in his deep blue eyes: something deep and unspoken, something that mirrored the way he felt in his own heart. Without thinking, his hand drifted up to rest against Thorin’s cheek, his thumb brushing gently against the rough texture of his dark beard.

Thorin leaned into the touch, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He had been through countless battles and faced death itself, but nothing had ever made him feel as vulnerable as this moment. He didn’t have the words to express the storm of emotions raging inside him, so instead, he let his actions speak for him.

The dwarf gazed down at Bilbo's lips, and slowly, hesitantly, Thorin closed the distance between them, his lips brushing softly against the hobbit’s. The kiss was tentative at first: a question, a whisper of a promise, but as Bilbo responded, it deepened, becoming something more: a vow; a declaration of everything they had been too afraid to say out loud.

Bilbo, feeling the fire in Thorin’s kiss, let his tongue nudge at the dwarf’s lips and teeth, silently asking for entrance. Thorin, eager and breathless, parted his lips to welcome Bilbo’s advance. The sensation of Bilbo’s tongue exploring his mouth sent shivers down Thorin’s spine, a mix of tenderness and passion that left him craving more. His arms tightened around Bilbo’s back, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.

Thorin’s hands began to explore, one sliding up Bilbo’s back to tangle in his soft, light brown curls, and the other moving down to rest against the small of Bilbo’s back, holding him as if he were the most precious and valuable treasure in all of Erebor. In return, Bilbo’s hands roamed Thorin’s broad shoulders and neck, feeling the strength in his muscles but also the vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

In a bold move, Thorin gently nibbled on Bilbo’s lower lip, savoring the way it made Bilbo’s breath hitch, his mind becoming blurry with pleasure. The kiss was like a dance, a silent conversation, pouring everything they had kept hidden for so long. When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed as they tried to steady their racing hearts.

There was a new light in Thorin’s eyes when he opened them again, a quiet certainty that had not been there before. The weight of his burdens, the scars of the past, seemed a little lighter now, soothed by the warmth of the hobbit who had stolen his heart permanently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bilbo whispered, his voice steady and sure.

Thorin’s hand tightened around Bilbo’s, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it. He gazed into Bilbo’s eyes, the blue of his own softening into something tender. “I won’t go anywhere either,” Thorin whispered, his voice filled with the same unwavering commitment.

As their fingers intertwined, Thorin lifted their joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to Bilbo’s knuckles. His other hand rubbed gentle circles against the back of Bilbo’s hand, feeling the contrast between the hobbit’s softer skin and the rougher, battle-worn texture of his own. It was a reminder of all the trials they had both endured, but also of the new beginning they were forging together.

For a moment, they simply stood there, hands clasped, eyes connected, and hearts entwined, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. In that shared silence, they found a peace that neither had known in a long time: a peace that came from knowing they would face whatever came next side by side, no longer alone in their struggles. (4)

***

1. The story's title is based on a verse in the song Golden Slumbers (Carry That Weight) by The Beatles. 2. Vili is the fanmade name that many LOTR fans give to Kili and Fili’s father 3. This is a reference to the book series Keeper of the Lost Cities. In Book 7, Sophie Foster (the protagonist) and Fitz Vacker have these things called “echoes” in their bodies, which are imprints of shadows that were left in their bodies after they got attacked by a Shade (someone who manipulates shadows and darkness), which makes them have similar signs of PTSD. 4. Bilbo and Thorin’s first kiss is inspired by Rhyanera and Mysaria’s kiss from House of the Dragon (S2, EP 5), Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth’s final encounter in Pride and Prejudice (2005), and a bit of my first ever kiss with my ex-partner, which had a similar atmosphere. All these scenes combined played in my mind when I wrote this.

#bilbo baggins #the hobbit fanfiction #tauriel #thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #thilbo bagginshield #bagginshield #battle of the five armies #the hobbit movies #kili durin #kili x tauriel #the hobbit #lotr #gandalf #dis durin #the way it comes to be

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laneynoir · 2 years ago

Note

I'm here with a writing idea - reuniting after a battle, reader x your favorite LOTR character(s), you choose which ones 🥰 the more the merrier 😍💛

Word count: 2271

A little polyamory for your dash?

Thorin/Bilbo/reader.

Also some very pointed Dwalin/Ori, but if you skip from ~ to ~ you can ignore it I guess.

"You utter arse"

Bilbo's head jerks up from it's spot on the bed, once determining that it is not him to whom you speak he relaxes, but only just. "He cannot hear us, I dont think. He spoke to me on the ice, but..." His voice trails off miserably, and your scowl lessens slightly.

He turns back to Thorin as you settle at his side, oblivious to the discomfort of dirt and gravel digging into your knees. "Will he?"

The Hobbit's matted curls bob slightly as he shakes his head. "We don't know. Thranduil did what he could, but he was pierced through the chest and," the breaking in his voice shatters you, and you grip his hand in support. "And he lost so much blood that we can't yet be sure either way."

A sob breaks from his throat, a desperate sound, as unnatural from him as an evergreen in the dessert. You pull him into an embrace, which he relaxes into for a brief moment before jerking back with an expression of horror.

You frown in confusion, "Bilbo? What's-"

"You. Are. Injured." He growls out, holding a bloodied hand and sleeve up.

"It truly isn't that-"

Once again, Bilbo interupts in a way that would have shocked Bungo Baggins with its lack of manners. "No. No, I cant loose you, I wont let you die on the floor while I still wait to know weather he too will die. I do not know how much more I can loose y/n, just think for a momment what this would do to me."

Your mouth falls open, before shame fills you. "You are right of course, I realize that. But I could not think of my own injury when Thorin lies as if dead."

Bilbo stands with a nod. "Right, you will stay right where you are, no moving, in going to find Oin." After you confirm with a grunt, he races from the tent, soft footsteps quickly fading.

When he is out of sight, you return your attention to Thorin, who lays just as still as death, face pale from blood loss. You push yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed, careful as to not disturb him. It takes a while to fully take stock of the inflections, the most obvious being the badgage wrapped around his chest, white fabric bleeding crimson.

The next is a large gash on his exposed thigh, closly followed by an undisclosed hurt on the foot. In addition, his skin is littered in cuts, bruises, and what looks suspiciously like broken ribs.

At this moment, you hear the tent flap smacked open, giving you the opportunity to ask, "What on earth happened to his foot?" Still gripping Thorin's hand you turn expectantly to the new faces at the entrance. Bilbo scoffs from beside Dwalin,

"The fool got himself stabbed." You try to figure how that could have been possable, and so are distracted enough for Oin to grab you away from Thorin's side and onto a bed of your own. As you protest, Bilbo tuts. "Oh no you don't, the bed isn't going to hurt you, and" He draws a shuddering breath.

"And you need not cause Master Baggins further worry by being foolish. I pulled you from beneath two dead trolls not twenty minutes ago, I think you can handle a bit of prodding from our healer." Dwalin speaks with a smirk, which only increases as the residant Hobbit's face goes compleatly neutral.

You eyes blow wide and you send desperate glance to Ori, who (the traitor) simply shrugs.

Oin, shockingly, comes to your defense. "Because either of you can talk? I had to restrain you, Bilbo. And son of Fundin, dont think that I haven't seen you favouring one foot and trying to hide the wound on your stomach."

Ori glares at Dwalin before shoving him onto a bed of his own, the latter shooting a glare more heated than a forge at Oin. Bilbo just shrugs. "I only got knocked out for a bit, it wasnt important."

"You're concussed. No hold still, he's fine for now." You grumble at the half deaf dwarf, but it quickly becomes a hiss of pain as he pulls fabric from a half dried gash on your shoulder. "Hmm, that may hurt."

Your 'no shit' face is flashed before you return your attention to Bilbo, who is glancing between you and Thorin. "Bilbo?" He jerks his head. "Would you sit with him?"

He smiles gratefully before once again settling next to Thorin, taking the dwarve' s hand in his own. You smile bengiantly at the picture, before flinching violently when a burning substance is pressed to your skin. Oin sighs. Then barks: "Hold on, Ori!"

Ori, in the proses of pulling Dwalin's shirt off, looks up, seems to take an unsaid command, and darts from the tent. You stare at Dwalin in the bed oposit yours, and the two of you hold an awkward silence, both half dressed. Without warning you both start laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Ori stumbles back through the entrance with a canteen in hand and a rope tangled around his ankle. As the healer pours you a cup of the sweet smelling brew, Dwalin inquires as to the state of Ori's boot.

Ori dismisses it with a shrug. "I tripped and it got tangled, a man standing a ways away laughed at how a rope could best a dwarf, so I snapped the rope and kept it." He blushes at the warriors aproving laugh. "It wasn't a very good rope beforhand really."

You take a sip of the drink, far to sweet for anything the grumpy dwarf could make, and wince. "Poppy?"

Oin grunts, "And some elvish concoction. Smells off to me, but it does the job." You nod, and nod, and find you head bobbing up and down.

"Wa's go'in on?" Your voice slurrs, tounge numb, and your eyes drop shut. You only have time to complain that this was working far to quickly for a poppyflower brew, when you fall into a deep sleep.

"Did you just drug y/n?"

Ori can't help but giggle at Bilbo's offended tone, for yes, you have fallen unconscious, your last words hardly intelligible. Dwalin makes a clicking sound beneath his hand, somthing the scribe has come to recognize to be, from Dwalin, the equivalent of a screech of pain from another.

Feeling rather like Dori, he apologises and lightens his touch. The larger dwarf snatches his wrist and meets his confusion with a smouldering smirk.

"You dont have to be so cautious, little one."

Ori fidgets with the rag, refusing to meet the others gaze. "I wouldn't wish to hurt you," And he must have offended Mahal somehow, because really no one should look this attractive whilst wounded and half dressed in torn cloth.

"Oh," Says Dwalin, "But what if i should like you, and only you, to hurt me? Remind me I live?" Ori gapes and lets loose a small 'pardon?' "What do i call you, Have you noticed?"

The scribe frowns, thinking. "Usually 'scribe' or 'little one', which is slightly offensive, I am not quite that small."

Tattoos rippling mesmerizingly as he moves, Dwalin cups Ori's face. "I thought you'd apreciate the word game, my scribe. Little one."

Comprehension dawns visibly on the younger's face. He squeaks. "I'm your one? I mean to say... I."

"My one, my scribe, my heart, my treasure."

Ori's face goes strangly calm, and he tugs on a braid in his hair. "Bilbo is grinning at us, Oin is laughing at us, Dori is going to kill us, and I have admired you for far to long." He abruptly locks his gaze with the blue eyes in front of him. "I am going to kiss you, and if you have any- umf"

Bilbo cheers from his spot on the floor and Oin cackles while stabbing your poor body with a needle. "About damn time."

Bilbo is slumped over in the chair, exhausted and worried. A month and a half has passed and still Thorin does not wake. To be fair, he had stirred during the journy back into the mountain, mumbling nonsense when he'd been nearly dropped damn Iron Hill dwarves but he'd not done more than such.

Bilbo is stuck feeling guilty for having to feed his love what is essentially baby food, mashed to the point of luquification and forced down his throat.

He doesn't mean to, he never does lately, but he falls asleep, folded nearly in half with his head on the mattress.

"You should not rest in such a position, it will do bothing for your back."

The deep voice rouses him from slumber "So Y/n has been saying for over a month-" his brain catches up with the situation belatedly. "Wait, Thorin your awake. Your awake!"

He is awarded with a rumbling laugh, cut off by a flinch and hand to the chest. "Where is our y/n?"

Bilbo streatches a bit while gesturing to the bed behind himself. "We had to drug them again, refuses to stop working, and it's not helping the infection." At Thorin's outraged question Bilbo sighs. "Slashed during the battle, the blade had the same poisen as the arrow Kili was shit with. If Tauriel hadn't been on hand..." He allows his voice to trail off, knowing Thorin will understand.

"The elf has been rewarded?"

Bilbo looks offended. "I took care of it myself, with assistance from Balin and Daín of course." Thorin raises a questioning eyebrow and Bilbo winces. "Now you are not allowed to throw a fit, no matter how much you disagree."

"For saving my one, nothing is to much."

Bilbo cocks his head, looking far to cute for someone who claims to be middle aged. "I've been wondering about that,how can you have two ones? Only, it seems a bit backward to me."

Thorin smiles, and Bilbo near melts. Far to long has passed that the majestic face has been set as stone. "'Tis a problem of translation, a Dwarrow's one is who compleates them, when together they are whole. The Legend is that when our Lord Mahal forges our souls, he makes them imperfect, and split so that the shards are mixed with our family, and eventual love's. Some dwarves souls are only scattered a little, and they will never love as deeply as another. My soul was forged hard enough that my heart rests in two others." He gratefully accepts the water that is offered.

"You are sure that your One can be found in another race?" Both jerk around to see you sitting on your bed, fully awake. Thorin grimaces at the pain to movement causes. "Oh dont look so surprised, the dosage wasn't as large as usual."

Thorin traces Bilbo's ear, sending a shudder through the hobbit and enticing you to smirk. "Yes. I have never been more sure of anything in my life. But my dear Hobbit is avoiding the question, what did you pay the elf?"

You pull yourself from the bed (not whining in pain, thank you.), and slump into the second chair while Bilbo is answering. "Well, belive it or not, her King banished her in the midst of battle, then unbanished her after she nearly died of heartbreak, and ah..."

Thorin looks utterly confused, a sight you wish you had Ori to lut on paper.

"He told her to do as she would, as Thranduil knows heartbreak all to well. And uhm, she really is devoted to Kili. And she keeps him in line most of the time."

Understanding begins to appear on the Dwarf King's face. "Bilbo, what did you do?"

"The council agreed with me that we should let her stay in the mountain." Thorin is silent, so Bilbo clarifies. "To live."

Not a majestic bead quivers, he's gone compleatly still. Slightly concerned, you pipe up. "I agreed that this was a good choice, both on a personal level and a diplomatic one. Letting an elf into the mountain shows that we are not holding grudges so sevearly that we are distrustful. Thorin? Hello?"

His head has bowed, and when his sight raises, he has that unfairly beautiful smile on again, eyes glittering. He chuckles while his head shakes back and forth. "I suppose I cannot deny my nefew the same love that I treasure so. Nor can I deny my heart anything they wish."

Bilbo grins, and of course kisses the deprived dwarf. "I am glad you say so. Though let us not go over bord, Gloin has told me of the worth in my Mithril."

Thorin shrugs -wincing horribly at the movement, and yes we all saw it- "you are worth every single link three times over, never doubt it." This is of course true, and you grasp Bilbo's hand to support the proclamation, Thorin notices that you use only your left arm, despite the right one being closer. "And what is this I've heard about an infection?"

"I'll be happy to tell you, my love, when you explain how in Morgoth you managed to kick a blade so hard it pierced you boot and through your foot."

Bilbo laughs, at last seeming at home.

#just popping i. for a bit #love you all #my fic #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #the hobbit

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forrest-drive · 1 year ago

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Plus a simplistic doodle of Dwalin celebrating birthday with him ♡♡

October 29, its Jed Brophy's birthday! Doodled this Nori for it!

Nori is such a fun character, I love him so much! Whenever I'm sad I find myself watching con panel recordings with Jed in them. He's such funny guy and never fails to make me laugh!

I've watched quite a lot of movies and shows with him in, he's such an amazing actor! Happy birthday Jed Brophy!

#the hobbit #nori #jed brophy #lord of the rings #my art #I rarely post doodles #nwalin #dwalin #dwalin son of fundin #nori the dwarf

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formlessvoidbeast · 1 year ago

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Jailbreak - The Hobbit - Thorinsmut (FormlessVoidbeast)

Dwalin didn't expect to meet another Dwarf while attempting to smash his way out of a flimsy Mannish prison, but Nori is friendly and seems to have a plan, so he's game to stick around and wait for a good escape opportunity. Of all the people in all the world that Nori ever expected to share a prison with, Dwalin son of Fundin was way down at the bottom of the list. However, never let it be said that Nori wasn't adaptable. He could definitely improvise to take advantage of the situation.

Anybody still read Nwalin around here?

#nori #dwalin #nwalin #the hobbit #jailbreak #this fic is a lemon

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thepartingglassofthorin · 7 months ago

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of Introductions

I'm so sorry this hasn't been updated, but I got the mojo juice back, and awayyy we go!

Snow had fallen much more than it had previously, delaying their departure by more than a few days, but allowing all injuries received to heal enough to travel. But with the sun no longer hidden behind the grey winter clouds, and the bright spring ahead of them, Thrain and his party began to take their leave.

Unlike many different parties that had come to the humble farm, this party lingered, more than apprehensive to leave. The family of the farm had grown quite fond of the royals and their escorts as well.

Bragar and Fundin played with the children, showing them dwarvish games and rhymes, all in the children's language; it had become an inside joke between Marlos' posterity for many years afterward. Bragar didn't show it much, but she missed how her children would run up to her and show her their little trinkets, and wished things had been different, so she could have cherished the years her sons were at this age. More than once, Fundin watched his wife wipe a stray tear from her eyes before they fell into her beard.

When Fundin wasn't with his wife and the Master's family, he was often found with Balin, walking among the fields. He and his son talked frequently, and hearts were laid out to bear. Fundin's family had been spared from the Calamity of Erebor, but he feared greatly with this approaching war.

Together, almost like clockwork, their discussion would turn to that of hope, of what they would do after the war, but their hope was more thin than a spider's silk. More than once, they would return to the guest house with their beards wet from tears more than overspent.

Gloin seemed to be the only one ready to leave when the day finally came. Thrain only had let the young one come because Dwalin, Fundin's other son, had sprained his foot three days before and wasn't fit for duty. Gloin was ready to show his steel, to prove how much of a warrior he was. What he failed to realize, however, was just how many days would pass before he could remove the armor from his frame, for fear of being run through from behind.

Thrain had more than befriended Marlos, he considered him a dear brother and looked forward to future business with the Man. Thrain also seemed the most unfazed by the looming war. His fury still burned bright in his belly at his Father's murder, as it should, but more than once, members of his escort would wonder just how far the King would go to avenge his Father before it killed him. Thrain did not doubt that the dwarves would rally at his call, and sooner than later, Moria would belong to his people once more, and his father's name would be cleansed from the Orc filth that had defiled it.

Thorin and Frerin were the most hesitant to leave. In the days that had followed Rolund and his snow slaughter, the Princes of Durin had made an effort to get to know their rescuer, although their pestering nearly caused them to leave the farm much earlier than planned. In turn, little did they know, Marlos and Thrain made arrangements to have Armis study within the settlement that housed the line of Durin when this war was over, wherever it happened to be.

"You will write to me, yes," Armis asked, holding tight to Frerin's gloved hands. She didn't know of the arrangement her father had made, she feared this would be the last time she would see them in a long while, if ever.

They stood before his pony, ready for a long journey. Thorin stood to their left, tightening the straps on his steed, feeling more than a little... he couldn't find the right word but he wasn't too happy that Frerin was hogging their friend's attention as of late.

"Of course I will, my little Rutty," Frerin said sweetly, stooping low and setting a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Thorin's frustration bled into his actions, the pony called out as the movements, normally smooth and loving, suddenly became quick and sharp. Hooves stamped in the gravel path as Thorin quickly and quietly mumbled his apologies to the steed, running his hands over her hide as if that would soothe the pony.

The pony's sudden discomfort wasn't ignored as Thorin had vainly hoped, Armis immediately came to the pony's muzzle, her retort directed at Frerin, and ironically ignored by Thorin, for calling her Rutty was lost as she soothingly rubbed the pony's chin, whispering sweet nothings for only the steed to hear.

The brother's eyes locked for a half second as Armis calmed the pony, Frerin's gaze playful, his eyebrows wiggling as his mirth bubbled up from his heart, and Thorin's gaze cold, although love was hidden in its icy blue depths. "I want you both to write to me," Armis commanded, now stroking the pony's muzzle to soothe her worries. She looked between them, not having seen their looks earlier. Thorin inhaled deeply, his fingers finding their way to the pony's mane, soft and smooth.

Thrain's call to move out came from the front of their group, Armis felt her heart squeeze. With a quick hug for the two princes, she backed up to join her family, standing at the edge of the porch as they bid their new friends safe travels. She held their eyes for a good while as the troop moved down the path. She felt a deep connection with them, one that she only recalled having with her parents.

"May your beards grow ever long," Marlos called out as the dwarves reached the end of the yard, his hand held out to say farewell, tears held bay so long as the Dwarf King could see him. The longer the dwarves had stayed, the more sure Marlos had become of the deep sorrow and dread that brought the old farmer to his knees.

Thrain turned back, his arm held high as he waved back, oblivious to the tears in his companions' eyes and that of the Farmer's Family, "And your days be long on this land!"

That was years and years ago it seemed. Almost another life, Armis felt. So much had changed since that day, including her. For seven long years she had exchanged letters with the Heirs of Durin via a raven. She had never known the birds to be clever, but the princes quickly set her right, they also communicated with their Mother in the Iron Hills, over half a world away, via ravens. It was how Armis, now settled into an apprenticeship within Ered Luin, communicated with her Father, still on their humble farm, and still tending every day to his land.

Armis chuckled to herself as the bittersweet memories of letters and ravens filled her mind. Her last correspondence with them was over forty years ago, she hoped beyond hope that they had simply misplaced the raven, but she knew something had happened. Last she had heard from them, there was going to be a last battle, a final stand against the Orcs. She swept away the memories with the dust on the porch she stood upon, the front of a tinker shop run by a dear friend of her mother's family, his name was Bofur.

His bright and jovial laugh pulled Armis further out of her melancholy feelings, and with a final push, the porch was free of dust and ready for the stampede of children soon to come.

"Now that's a sight I'll never get tired of," He said, joining her on the porch. His hat was on crooked, like always, and his mustache was twisted up with wax to its usual points, on either side of his bright and wide smile. Armis leaned on the broom, turning her head on its side as she waited for him to continue, her braid, long and thick gently swaying in the summer breeze. He chuckled and pulled a hand out of his front apron pocket, pointing at the street before them.

Armis turned and looked, finding the street empty, save a stray cat and a few barrels. She could see clear to the school's door at the far end, the children all in single file just behind the door frame, the strong door held open by the tutor. He held his hand up, as if he was to start a race, ready to duck behind the door should the children decide to all come out at once, which had happened more than once. The tutor didn't seem annoyed, or frustrated, his bright smile betraying the professional atmosphere he otherwise displayed.

The bell from the towers rang, one, two, three, and the children began to march, something that Bofur had made them promise to do, or else be barred from his shop for the next two weeks. The eldest of the children, Bofur's little nephew Bunbur, stood at the front of the line, whispering to the youngest of the children behind him how it should be done. They copied his motions, exaggerating their swinging arms, their faces pinched up in an attempt to look stern, "Like a soldier," Bunbur had said. If the young dwarrow's heart wasn't set on taking over his Father's Bakery when he grew older, Armis thought he would have made a great tutor when the time came.

Armis lifted the broom off the ground, caught it in its upward motion, and twirled around on the ball of her foot, quickly tucking the broom away into the shop, just inside the door, employee's side of the counter. By the time she returned to the porch, all the children were lined up again, looking more like the start of a race and less like being let out of school. Armis brushed the front of her own apron off, pulling the drawstrings tight behind her, making sure that a few sweets were safely stored in her own pockets for the select children who couldn't afford their own.

With the school's door firmly shut and secured, the Tutor stood to one side of the children, something he, nor the tutor before him had done previously. She turned to Bofur, he turned to lean on one of the supports for the awning, his eyes still glued to the sight across the market, but otherwise facing his apprentice.

"He's just making sure everyone knows where they're going, lass." Small shouts, excitement plainly heard in their voices, came from the little students then, one at a time. "We had a pebble go missing last release because he went one way when he was told to go another."

Armis nodded as the Tutor said something else, but with a quick bow, the children were off to their devices, a great majority of them racing as fast as they could to Bofur's tinkering shop. Some went to the public washing house to ask their mothers for spare coins, and others went home, promising their friends that they'd be back as soon as their chores were finished.

The door was pushed open by the shop owner himself, Armis recalled last week when a young one had slammed the door open, a new dent was left on the said door, the child had been so eager to enter!

Business went by quickly, children marveled at the new tinkers Bofur had set up to display, a few tears were shed as the children realized that some of the more popular trinkets had been sold, but the tears were soon stifled as a taller child saw the display saying that more would be coming soon.

Armis ran the sweets 'bar', making sure to wipe off the stone countertop frequently to keep the sticky messes from building up. She tended to the children with care, being extra sure to wipe their sticky fingers too. Bofur ran the rest of the shop, grateful for his brother's generous supply of sweets, treats, and discounted prices for them, and for the extra help Armis had been. He had been running it with his cousin, but since returning from the Iron Hills, and fully recovering, Bifur never quite was the same around children. He preferred to stay in the back, providing the tinkering trinkets rather than handing them out.

The flood of children had stemmed finally, some odd hours later, and Armis could step away from the counter for just long enough to clean up the shop. She took her trusty broom from behind the counter again and began to sweep away the cookie crumbs from the Children's bar, setting the forgotten toys up on the counter so they could be set into the lost bin, kept right next to the broom's corner.

The door flew open and a little pebble ran right up to Armis, barreling into her legs with such force she thought for sure that she would topple over.

"Up, up, up," He shouted, holding his arms up as he bounced on his feet. With a bright smile, Armis obliged, lifting the dwarfling and setting him on her hip. He threw his arms around her neck, humming as he pulled her tight, Armis couldn't help but laugh.

"Now what are you up to today, Master Fili," She asked, pulling away to look at the blonde menace, and a menace indeed! If you couldn't tell from his frizzy braids or his dirty face, you could tell by the look in his bright blue eyes, that he was always up to something. He pulled back and put his finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully.

"I dunno- Whaz that?!" He pointed past Armis to the top display on the window, white, black, and green stone shone in the wooden frame, Armis couldn't help but smile to herself.

"It's a jewelry box! It's where your amad would keep her stones and pretties-"

"What does the other side look like," He asked, leaning out just enough to cause Armis's balance to shift, she pulled him close again. She quickly stepped out the door and brought him around to see it, pointing at the box for emphasis. It was a simple box, but one that Armis was proud of, her first of hopefully many more.

"Didja make that one," He asked, pointing as he stared at her. She nodded and he shrieked, bouncing on her hip as she struggled to keep from teetering over, his momentum and weight adding to the struggle. "It's so pretty, how long did you take? How did you make the stone all those colors?"

Armis began to tell him how the stone came that way, but a sharp and deep and familiar voice cut through her thoughts, silencing her words.

"FILI SON OF VILI!"

"Down, down, down," Fili hissed, practically jumping from her arms. She quickly set him down, keeping a good hold on his shoulders as he turned to face the voice, should he want to run off. That's happened a few times with the more troublesome pebbles. They'll retreat to Bofur's shop and have their guardian furious for whatever trouble they had caused, and now for running away from their consequence.

The two of them turned around to face who had called, and Armis felt her heart stop as a familiar face stomped up to the porch. At first, she had recognized the voice as that of the dwarrow's Father, her heart hammering against her ribs, but she was glad she was mistaken, she only hoped his temper wasn't as famed as his sire's.

His hair was streaked with silver, but still the dark black she remembered, and many a faded or fading scar lay on his bare forearms, his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He was speaking harshly to Fili, his finger wagging at him as he picked up the youngster. Armis thought Fili had said something back but she couldn't hear him but she wasn't sure. He turned from looking at Fili, sternly, to apologize to Armis for disrupting her business, but he stopped too, shock crossing his face as their eyes locked. Warmth, shock, and joy radiated from Armis then, her dear friend smiled widely at her, saying something, but Armis couldn't hear it again...

Armis was awoken by the memory of the shock she had felt, but she figured it was a good thing that it happened. She had to get everyone up and out if they were to remain on schedule. She peeled her tired and aching body from the soft dirt and blankets, pushing away the sleep that tempted her to pull her back down. If she was to see Thorin's cursed dream fulfilled, she would have to see it through until he got here. If he got here...

She pulled herself further upright to fix her boots upon her feet. Her body quietly protested as she willed it to move, but not without a very valid reason. She had practically sprinted from Ered Luin to the edges of the Shire before she dared even attempt to acquire a steed. Everyone in their grand settlement would have immediately told Dis, and then she'd have to deal with yet another Durin's famous temper. She knew one was coming once her dear one was upon them...

The dwarrowdam stumbled over to the last watchman for the night, Dwalin, raising her hands far over her head as she stretched out the last of her tiredness. He had his back to her, set on a pack of wood, he hardly turned around when she let out her loud and ragged yawn. With an eyebrow raised, she leaned into his view to find his entire being pinched up. His eyes were the most pinched, she couldn't read what they were silently trying to tell her. With a deep intake of breath, Dwalin finally relaxed, uncrossing his arms from his chest and setting his hands on his knees, shaking his head as his gaze fell to the ground.

"You will deal with him when he returns," He muttered, not meeting her gaze. Armis finally got his hidden message. She threw her head up to the sky, throwing her hands out as she tried to find the words to explain her reasoning. Dwalin stood up, deft and quick, before she could even utter a syllable.

"I don't want to hear your reasoning," He began quietly, his face lowered to look her in the eyes. Armis couldn't read his face or his emotions again, she was more than a little worried. "In truth, I'm glad you're here with us." Armis let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, "But don't assume I will defend your actions. It's bad enough you disobeyed your husband, don't make me have to choose between my friend or my king..." With those parting words, Dwalin left his post, his foot purposefully colliding with Nori's back, rudely awakening the reformed thief. Together, once Nori had finished grumbling his complaints at the rude awakening, they went to gather the saddles and tack for their steeds.

"If this could be avoided, I wouldn't be here," She mumbled as she went to pack up her things.

Truth be told, Armis was going to come. Ever since Thorin had come back from Bree the first time in early March, that had been the plan. He and her were going to reclaim Erebor, hand in hand, but plans had changed. Armis remembered it clearly.

The dwarves of Ered Luin had thrown a party for their heroes, a solemn but joyous party, and only those of close kin knew the true reason for their leaving. Most assumed that Thorin was taking the young princes to visit their kin in the Iron Hills, a chance to experience more of the Long Beard's culture and clan, having been raised around the Broad Beams all their lives.

Armis hadn't seen her husband all day, he had left early in the morning, before the sun had peered over the horizon even. She recalled him stepping out to give the final toast before the celebration was to fully begin, the traditional Parting Glass, and their eyes locked. That same familiarity from so many years ago on Bofur's shop porch shone in their eyes, warm, loving, a hidden smile within, but he took a deep breath and broke their gaze. With his glass raised high, Thorin asked a blessing of safety and success come to them, and that loved ones would find the strength they needed to continue.

Glasses and mugs were raised solemnly, the drink of each dwarrow's choice was downed and the party resumed at Thorin's behest. Armis should have known something was eating away at him, but at the time he only looked tired. He soon joined her at the table she, Dis, Fili and Kili had taken up, unnaturally silent. He didn't stay long, and for that matter, neither did she. He pulled her away from the grand party, found a small room that was unoccupied and gently shut the door behind them.

His face, Armis will never forget his face then. His eyes, normally bright and full of emotion, were dull and cold, not cold like when he was being polite to a rude dwarrow, but cold as if there was nobody within; his poker face, Dis called it. Armis hadn't spent many days with him at City Meetings, but she did recognize the wall set up around his heart. Before she could ask what was troubling him, Thorin gently pleaded with her to stay in Ered Luin. Tears welled in his eyes, now dark with fear and sorrow she hadn't seen in him in many years.

Armis wanted to lash out then, scream at him, how dare he ask this of her! In all his plans, in all their schemes, she had always been a part of them, ever since he had formally asked for her hand, so many years ago. Now, to change them so suddenly, and without a valid reason, she had half a mind to smack some sense into him.

But his eyes. It's always his eyes...

And so, Armis had stayed at Thorin's request, after many tears, empty threats, and promises that Armis somehow knew wouldn't be kept. Thorin had left again before the sun had graced their small home, or the land roundabout with its light.

When the Company settled down for the evening, they had found a nice little wide-mouthed cave. Well, it was more of a rock, carved out so the 'occupants' could shelter from the wind. Dwalin and Armis hadn't spoken since that morning, other than to discuss travel paths. Armis made a point to keep a few feet away from him, she didn't want to step on already bruised or broken toes. After supper had been put away, she set herself on a shelf found in the rock, by the mouth's cave, deciding to shut her eyes for just a moment. Her green eyes scanned her companions, most of them were sat around the fire or tucked into their sleeping sacks, although she thought it was far too hot, hence her spot up on the stone. She happened a glance at Fili and Kili, they were busy sharpening sticks to poke the fire with, or knives simply for the sake of doing something. With a final sigh, she settled further into her stony seat. She hadn't gotten much sleep in her haste, so she might as well try now.

Her mind wandered, the memory of her dream came then, and she thought of that particular moment. She smiled to herself, Thorin's words coming to mind now. He had been scolding Fili, who had always gone to Bofur's shop after his schoolwork was done, while his Amad and brother washed up laundry nearby. Thorin had just returned from the Iron Hills, Dis had mentioned in passing that her brother was going to be arriving sooner than later, but Armis hadn't even fathomed who it could have been. Thorin was still getting used to how Dis ran her household, a task even he dared not to undertake with Fili, being just old enough to begin attending primary school, and Kili, who began toddling around the house two months ago; Dis was still 'baby-proofing' the house and furniture again.

As far as Thorin knew, Fili was distracting Armis from her work, hence the scolding, to which Armis assured him that her work very much included showing the young pebbles possible paths they could pursue, such as tinkering, mining, carpentry, and cooking, to name but a few.

She had been with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur for nearly a year at that point, as they had befriended her mother's nephew and was with him when he passed from his life in Arda, due to an illness of the lungs. When Marlos had written her kin about housing Armis in her studies, unaware of his passing, Bofur had been quick to respond, with condolences, and then assurance that Armis would be welcome in his shop and home if she still wanted. Within his humble home, she learned different types of tools required in carpentry and general tinkering, and she was shown the mines and their vast depths. Armis remembered she felt out of place within the mines, but kept that to herself, as the teacher of her youth had mentioned how much the dwarves loved to mine, as they were 'made of stone.'

Shortly after Thrain and his party had left their farms, two more dwarrow had stumbled into their home, sometime in the middle of the night. Armis recalled that she had been awoken by her Father and this new visitor's companion the morning following their arrival, shouting about something within the upstairs Study. When Marlos finally emerged, he informed those at the dining table that they would have a guest with them for a few months, the other was to return to whatever he had been doing before, Marlos was very irritated at that. Armis didn't pry into it. This guest was to teach Armis about her heritage as a dwarf, in exchange for room and board while his leg healed from a breakage in the thigh. This dwarrow had taught her much, but as he had told her, "Experience is everything!"

Soon enough, Armis had learned all she could, and the guest's leg had long been healed, Marlos allowed his board to continue until there was nothing left to teach. When the time had come, about five years had passed, and the guest urged Armis to visit Ered Luin, which was the closest settlement. At the time it had been a little hamlet, mostly occupied with Broad Beams and the stray human, but overall a safe place to visit.

Marlos thanked the Guest but said they would wait a few years before Armis could say anything, as much as she had wanted to visit the hamlet then and there! Thrain had paid his debt in the years that had followed but made no mention of housing Armis at the time, Marlos hoped that he would remember and mention it, but the Old King never did...

When Armis finally left Ered Luin, when her father's health began to fail, Kili was just old enough to begin school, which was to start a new session at the end of the month. Armis smiled to herself again as sleep gently took her away, tears welling under her eyelids at the memory of her sorrow at leaving the small family behind. Fili had told the younger brother for years about how wonderful it was to leave the school after a 'hard day's work' and sprint to the shop, finding Armis within with treats and snacks ready for them. Kili had at first bawled because he wouldn't be able to experience that, only to stifle his tears when Armis assured him Bofur knew their favorite sweets almost as well as she did. He started back up when he realized she was going away, and she might not be coming back.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin x oc #bilbo baggins #fili

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