#fili comfort fic

[laurfilijames]

😅 yes, although rare, it does occasionally happen that I write something without smut, but I stand firmly in that (most) of my fics, although explicit, contain plenty of fluff and loving feelings.

I'm glad you enjoyed this and believe that dwarves are amazing cuddlers 💗 I appreciate you sharing this thought with me and reblogging for others to see!

Fíli comforts you when you don’t feel well:

Just a small headcanon about sweet Fili. Dedicated with love for @guardianofrivendell 💚

(Image not mine)

You wake up in the middle of the night, your stomach aching

Fili immediately notices you’re not in bed anymore and pads through the house to look for you

He finds you curled up on the couch, your legs tucked up tight against your body

“What’s the matter?” he softly asks, his voice full of concern and raspy from sleep

He sits next to you and gently rubs your back as you explain to him you don’t feel well

He offers to make you tea or get you water, but you know it won’t help

You just want to be close to him

He lays down behind you on the couch and pulls you close against his warm body, aimlessly drawing designs on your arm and back, unknowingly bringing you instant relief

You feel his warm palm rest on your belly and you close your eyes as you begin to feel a little better

His breathing is slow and soothing beside your ear, and he hums slightly as he relaxes against your form

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” he asks quietly, still worried about you

Fíli hates it when you’re sick, and you feel guilty knowing he won’t sleep again until he knows you’re going to be okay

You grip onto his strong forearm as a wave of nausea comes over you again, and you groan from the discomfort

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he assures you, peppering kisses on your hair and shoulder

You know by just having him there beside you that he can help cure any ailment that could ever afflict you

He continues to rub his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach and you fall into a restful sleep wrapped up in his arms, hearing him tell you “I love you”

[tending-the-hearth]

guess who is getting fucking hurled back into her 2012 fandom obsessions on a completely unrelated note i'm in love with him

[wild-lavender-rose]

Delicate

Pairing: Thorin x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: While training with Fili, you sustain an injury to your arm. Your husband Thorin finds you trying to stop the bleeding and is infuriated with Fili. Angered by his outburst, you remind him that you are far from the delicate queen he thinks you are. 

Warning: Description of injury, swordplay, brief insinuative kissing 

    “Come now, Fili.” You twirled your sword and shifted into a position of defense. “We both know I need the practice.”  

    “She speaks the truth.” Kili’s scoff caused you both to shoot him a look. He held his hands up in surrender. “What? You saw how she handled the last orc attack. If Thorin had not been there to save her,”  

    “Kili.” Fili’s deep voice was enough to quiet him. He turned back to you. “Fine then,” his sword rose. “Should you need me to stop,”  

    “Just begin.” You ordered, jaw set. 

     Kili was right, your swordplay was weak when the orcs had attacked your little hunting party. An orc had overtaken you easily, disarming you and getting you to the ground with an awful wound to your side. If Thorin hadn’t been there to block the orc’s final blow you would most surely have died. It had taken weeks to recover. But now you were strong and well and furious at yourself. You needed to get better at fencing, you had to. Hence your current position in the armory’s gigantic room dedicated to practicing for battle, awaiting Fili’s first blow.  

    It came unexpectedly, knocking you back a couple steps. Kili tensed, his casual position leaning against the wall growing forced. You gripped your sword with both hands.  

    Fili stepped forward. “You’re too focused.” He swung his sword twice. The clang of metal echoed throughout the room. “Allow your instincts to take control, they will serve you well.”  

    You shook your head, blocking his swing before taking one of your own.  

    He sidestepped it easily, striking out for your legs. You gasped as you fell, rolling over in time to block his death blow.  

    Fili’s eyes were worried. “You’re dead, my lady.”  

    You growled and pushed up, ignoring the sting in your leg as you fought back out of anger, of fear. Fili walked backwards, blocking every blow. “Better.”  

    “I must be the best.” You jerked back as he jabbed at your stomach, sweat growing hot on your skin.  

    “It’s impossible.” Kili called out.  

    You looked at him, gasping as Fili sliced his sword along your arm. “Focus on your opponent.” He ordered. “You cannot be the best if you do not,”  

    “Fili, that’s enough!” Thorin’s voice boomed, startling you both.  

    Your sword fell limp by your side as you looked to see Thorin striding towards you. “My love,”  

    “How dare you taunt her? Has she not been through enough?!” Thorin’s shoulder brushed yours as he advanced on Fili.  

    “No, Thorin, you do not understand,” you reached for him. “I asked for his assistance in this matter, both him and Kili.”  

    “You asked for this?” Thorin nodded to your arm.  

    You looked down, heart twisting at the cut Fili left when he sliced his sword along your bare skin. “It’s, it’s just a scratch.”  

    “I thought such things were implied,” Thorin’s tone was dark and murderous as he turned on Fili once more. “You are to be gentle with my queen during training, Fili.”  

    “Yes, uncle. I’m sorry,”  

    Anger flared within you. “I do not wish to be treated gently, not by Fili nor anyone else.” In two steps you were standing between Thorin and Fili, glaring up into his stormy expression without fear. “Perhaps if my training had been harsher I would have been able to protect myself from the orcs.”  

    “That is no reason for-,”  

    “That is every reason.”

    “My love,” Thorin’s expression grew tainted with worry. “Your skin, it, I cannot stand the thought of it carrying anymore scars,”  

    “And why not?” Your anger grew as you tugged your shirt up, revealing the ugly scar hiding underneath. “I would rather have a million scars to remind me I am getting better than a scar to remind me of the time I failed.”  

    Thorin opened his mouth, then closed it. Kili and Fili were silent.  

A tear slipped down your cheek. You shoved it away, brushing past him to stalk out of the armory, your sword clattering to the ground.  

                                                 # # # # #  

    “Do you need help?”  

    You looked up from where you were cleaning the cut on your arm to see Thorin lingering in the doorway to your shared chambers. You had changed into a white dressing gown, your left leg exposed up to the thigh, revealing yet another cut Fili had given you when he had knocked you to the ground. Thorin’s eyes lingered over the wound but he made no comment.  

    You bit your lip and returned your attention to the wound. “I am capable of tending it myself.”  

    “Do you…wish for me to leave?”  

    “No. They are your chambers as well, my king.”  

    Thorin stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, his voice remaining soft. “I wanted to…to apologize. For my actions.”  

    You stilled. Thorin was not known for being quick to apologize.  

    “When you…when the orc attacked you and you were injured, I thought that I had lost you. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”  

    “Then allow me to train.” Your gaze met his once more. “You are not the only one who felt helpless that day. I must learn to be better, Thorin. I cannot, I will not stand by quietly and expect you to save me.”  

    “And I support you.”  

    “What?”  

    “I support you,” Thorin crossed to kneel before you, putting the bloody cloth you had been using to take your hand in his. “I will help you to train and I promise I will not go easy. I will train you as if, as if you were one of the men.” His gaze shifted down to your bare thigh. “Or, I will try at least.”  

    This caused you to smile. “Thank you, my king.”  

    Thorin smiled back, the gesture causing his eyes to twinkle with relief and something else. You watched as he leaned down, shuddering as he brushed a feather light kiss beside the cut on your thigh. “I love you.” He whispered.  

    “I love you.” You breathed.  

    “Please, allow me to help you, I must…make amends for my actions.”  

    “Yes, my king. You may proceed.”  

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[crossingbaranduin]

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown

Read here on AO3!

Summary: As the first week after the battle passed, Fíli truly began to wonder if the “training” he had received as heir would be enough for him to lead. Because now, he felt wholly unprepared for the role.

(Fíli is King Regent of Erebor after The Battle of Five Armies. Becoming King so unexpectedly takes a far greater toll than he could have expected, especially for someone who just wants his family alive and well.)

Notes (from original posting): Just watched The Hobbit for the first time, and I needed to get my feelings out about the Durin line -- Fíli in particular -- because this is all I've thought about for a week straight.

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 2: Wrapped in a Fuzzy Blanket

Fili x Hobbit!reader

wc: 0.8k

warnings: none

a/n: this is written in 3rd person which I haven't really done in my fics before. I really like how it turned out though, maybe not for an all the time kinda thing but I think it works really well here

Dwarves are sturdy. There is no doubt about that, they can go days without eating (though they will complain the whole time) they can fight long battles without getting tired and they can weather the cold with little struggle. 

Hobbits are not sturdy, they are a gentle folk who enjoy the comforts of home and hearth and there is nothing wrong with that. It just means that on nights like these, where fifteen people crowd around one fire, they can get cold.

Fili hears her teeth chattering from across the camp, he notices the shake of her hands and the soft almost unconscious way her eyelids flutter against her ever reddening cheeks. He would find it deeply endearing if he weren’t so worried that she would freeze. 

He swiftly cast a glance over to Bilbo, to see if the gentleman Hobbit was just as affected by the night chill as she was. A quick look told Fee that Bilbo was not cold, at least not noticeably. Although that could have something to do with the large fur coat draped around his shoulders. One with a royal blue lining that Fili recognized but would not dare to mention. At least not in his Uncle's presence. 

Fili scans the camp in search of something, eyes landing on his own pack. Within it holds a handmade blanket his Amad had made him when he had told her he would be setting off on the journey. 

“The mountains get cold Fili, even for Durin’s folk.” She had chastised him when he had tried to tell her that he wouldn't need it, that such frivolities would only weigh his pack down.

He makes a mental note to apologize the next time he sees her, she was right, he would need it. Just looking at the shivering lass was making his own bones feel cold. Without a word he grasps the soft cloth and tugs it out from his pack, it still smells faintly of home. An old comfort that he cherished more than the warmth the garment could provide. 

He tries to be disappointed that the smell will be replaced by hers but deep down, he can’t even convince himself. It would be a gift from Mahal for her sweetness to seep into the fabric, for her scent to coat the inside of his pack. He represses a shiver of his own just thinking about it.

Standing swiftly he makes his way over to the lass, she doesn’t make a move to acknowledge his presence, just stares steadily into the burning flames as if the warmth would invade her through sight alone. 

He wishes, with all he is that he could know what she was thinking. Just once he would like a glimpse into the beautiful creation that is her mind. Are her thoughts consumed with the songs he so often finds her humming under her breath? Does she tell herself stories of the world around her, like the ones she weaves for Ori when he pleads with her? Or does she think of someone in particular, of a love she holds dear? Perhaps it is a Hobbit from back home, perhaps someone else? What he wouldn’t give for just a single moment in her mind.

He settles for taking care of her body instead, fluffing the blanket in the air and watching it float down on top of her shoulders. He wraps it around her and catches her gaze when she snaps her eyes towards his. 

“Thank you, Fee,” Her voice is soft, just like the rest of her. It floats gently on the wind into his mind, carving out a space in his memory. Not before long that is all his memory will be; brief moments of her. He can’t bring himself to care.

He says nothing to her, just smiles and nods and hopes that she understands. Understands that a blanket is nothing; that he would do so much more if only she asked. He would capture the sun in a bottle if it would keep her warm. 

He catches the moment she brings the blanket to her nose, inhaling deeply. He watches with deep satisfaction as her shoulders loosen. The tension she had been holding all day melts from her bones. 

Fili wonders not for the first time why she decided to come along with this rowdy group of dwarves in the first place. The reason she consistently gave was that she needed to watch out for her dear friend Bilbo, that she simply would not let him adventure without her. But Fili thought that it might have a little more to do with that look of longing he sometimes caught in her eye. With the fire that he sees raging within her soul. 

Fili really would give anything for just a moment in her head.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Insecurities. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome, readers!! As always, thank you for stopping by!! I thought it was high time to write a fic for Kili! After all, who can resist that cheeky smile of his?? Do enjoy! ❤

Plot; Comfort drabble

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; fluffity-fluff and some angy-angst

_____________________________________

The evening was cheerful, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield having stopped for the night after a long day's travels. Peaceful ambience of the forest began to increase in the nightfall, the breeze light and cool as it swayed through the rustling trees.

Firelight filled the camp with a warm flickering glow, the smell of woodsmoke and Bombur's cooking potent in the air. Conversation was easy to find and delightful, as always. Bofur, Dwalin, Nori and a few of the others were sat together, conversing in what sounded like their native tongue. The intricacies and mysteries of Khuzdul still left you amazed, despite how it was only merriful banter.

You had stood by Bombur, offering to take Bofur's place tonight as the food-server. Each bowl of soup was steaming hot, your steps having to be quick to avoid burning yourself too badly from the scalding liquid as it dripped from the bowl. Each Dwarf had eagerly taken the food that was offered, exhaustion fueling their hunger. Even Bilbo and Gandalf seemed relieved to finally be eating this evening. The days were long and draining, trudging through the wilderness in the everchanging landscape. You too found relief in finally dropping down beside the youngest of the two Princes once your rounds were finished.

Fili, who usually kept him company of a nighttime, was occupied in the audacious conversations nearby. The booming laughter that rang out almost startled you whilst you settled in alongside Kili, him offering the occasional soft chuckle at the words being thrown between bites of his food.

Darting to you, the Prince's hazel eyes glistened with the embers of the campfire. A soft smile of amusement crossed his face, the action always seeming to offer you comfort. "What are they on about now?", you quirked a brow, his expression becoming contagious.

"By this point in the conversation, I don't think you want to know".

"Enlighten me", you encouraged, laughter slipping from the Princeling's lips. It was hard for Kili to restrain his smile when he finally obliged.

"They're taking bets on whether or not Bofur uses his hat in the bedroom".

"Pigs", you huffed, a moment's silence passing before you added, "He clearly does". The Prince snorted, his soup suddenly travelling through his nostrils. Something akin to a guffaw escaped his lips, whilst he desperately tried to grapple his composure in your now shared laughter.

"Agreed", he managed to wheeze out, wiping at his face and mouth.

In moments like this, you appreciated the bond that had formed between you both. Despite the seriousness of the quest at hand, you always found yourself at ease within Kili's easygoing nature and cheeky humour. He always had a way of soothing your anxieties with his jokes and lighthearted conversations, always looking on the brighter side of things. And although he was oblivious to such things, you'd come to find him to be quite beautiful.

It was hard not to when the light of the fire danced over his features, illuminating the strands of hair that fell effortlessly over his face. You'd come to admire those wavy tresses with their now auburn glow, sitting over his strong and broad shoulders. You wondered how he cared for them, keeping them so clean despite the lack of hygiene this quest entailed.

With his head turned and gaze fixed on the forest ahead, you found that his messed half-up had lost a few strands that dangled, masking the Prince's handsome face from your current view. His metal clasp was now sitting loosely on the back of his head. And although it offered him a fitting style, you wished to fix it for him.

Dinner became suddenly forgotten in your new endeavours when you decided to test the waters with Kili. Reaching for the strand that had fallen loose over his face, your fingertips worked the silken strands behind his ear with a delicate precision. The Prince almost seemed to stiffen at your touch, his breaths halting whilst goosebumps ignited across his skin. His lips had parted, lashes fluttering. No woman had ever touched him like that before. And although there was nothing sensual about your touch, it made every part of him light up like fire, craving more of that soothing gentleness.

Sensing his quiet, you became hesitant to continue. "May I fix your hair for you?". Your question had his hazel orbs clouding in confusion, scanning your face for any sign that you may have been jesting. He nodded shyly, his voice seeming to waver slightly,

"Please". That being all the confirmation you needed, you pulled the large clasp from his hair, the thick layers falling loose. Excitement bubbled in your chest whilst you shuffled closer to the handsome Dwarf.

Steadying his breaths, he resisted the shudder that passed through him when your fingers began working through his hair like a gentle comb. You began to remove the small tangles, relishing in the soft touch of his hair. The moisture in the strands was not greasy or dirty in nature and his waves bounced back, unaffected by your touches. The Prince's eyes had fallen closed, his dinner being long abandoned in his blissful state. The sensation of your nails brushing over his scalp had him drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to fight the pleasurable sighs that dared to leave his throat.

The boisterous conversations that once ensnared his attention had faded from his ears. He was barely able to register your voice when you spoke so gently to him. "Your hair is so beautiful", you marveled, spindling his soft hair between your fingers playfully. "How do you keep it so soft and lovely?". The young Prince felt his throat tightening from shock, pondering what your interest was in his hair. In his opinion, there was nothing special about his tresses.

Kili gathered no attention from women, unlike his fellow kin. His complete lack of facial and body hair meant that to any respectable Dwarf, he was considered ugly or unattractive. At your compliments, it was only normal for him to be in a state of disbelief. You were the first and only woman to take interest.

"It's nothing special", he finally murmured. "I just use a light oil after I wash my hair".

"You need to lend it to me sometime", you insisted with a grin, your eyes seeming to sparkle with mirth. "It works wonders on your hair. It's so beautiful". Kili felt his heartbeat increase, his tone falling quieter amidst his further disbelief.

"Do you think so?". In a sudden surge of confidence, you replied,

"I know so. You have the most gorgeous looking hair out of all the Dwarves in this Company". His eyes had blown wide, his lips parting in surprise. "It looks lovely pinned back", you added, finally binding his hair securely with his clasp. "Or left out". You shrugged. He grew confused when you shuffled in front of him. "But, I think I like your fringe the most. It frames your kind face without hiding it".

You were so close now, your (e/c) eyes trained on the delicate strands that made up his bangs. Your touch was featherlight and uncalloused, your face screwed in concentration. In your current focus, you didn't see the admiration and awe for you that shimmered in his gaze. Never had he gotten attention like this, even from a friend. Friend. He despised that word when his thoughts drifted to you. But, how could you possibly ever find him attractive?? His lack of facial hair and muscle was unmanly, even by human standards.

You were strangely beautiful to Kili. You weren't as tall or lithe as the Elves, nor as creamy-skinned or graceful. You had perfect little imperfections in your skin and freckles. Your hair had character, being curly. And you almost always wore your hair out of your face, the odd stray hair coming to frame it perfectly. And from the moment he sensed his feelings for you some weeks ago, Kili had felt his confidence decrease. He felt as if he had no chance with 12 other eligible Dwarves in the Company that could easily win you over with their toned bodies and lavish, braided hair.

The Princeling wasn't oblivious to how you often spent your time with Ori, looking through his books and learning how to knit the varying patterns he practiced. And despite how Ori was much younger than Kili, he had an attractive amount of body hair. He was nowhere near as confident as the Prince, nor as rehearsed in the prowess of battle. However, it didn't stop the envy that crept its way into his heart and mind. Looks had always mattered to everyone else before, so why would it be any different now?

When your cooler hands brushed over his face whilst you worked, it left burning tingles in his skin. You noted the perfect shaping of his eyebrows, running your thumbs over them to smooth any stray hairs. His features were strong, to be expected of a man in Dwarven culture. You swept loose pieces of his fringe from his cheeks, his stubble seductively rough beneath your skin.

Some part of you preferred Kili without a beard. All the hair that hung from the others was so extravagant, but you liked seeing more of his face. His cheeky smile was your favourite thing to see, even on a bad day. Perhaps a beard would hide that?

Raking his fringe up for slight volume, you found yourself taken by how ethereal he seemed. You questioned yourself on whether or not it was your lack of food and rest from the day, but you couldn't ignore the fondness that crept into your soul at being so close with him. A smile marked your face, setting the last strands of his dark locks aside.

"Beautiful", you'd murmured, a sense of accomplishment filling your heart. The warmth of his skin increased beneath your lingering fingertips, his hazel gaze playing over your softer features. To his greater surprise, there was only genuity in your expression. Not wanting you to retreat from him, Kili placed his heated callouses over your own, fighting the way his eyes slightly glazed over with tears.

"Thank you". He offered you one of those boyish smiles, taking comfort in the suppleness of your skin beneath his own. You caressed the stubble beneath your skin, grazing your thumb over the smoothness of his sharp cheekbone. Kili chuckled in amusement, "I look a bit more dignified now".

"Nonsense. Your hair looked fitting either way", you laughed softly, squeezing the warmer hands that held your own. "It's truly beautiful. Stubble and all". His dark brows had risen, wonder filling his kind gaze. You really didn't mind his lack of body hair??

"I always thought my stubble was– I thought it may have been unsightly", he confessed with the hints of a nervous smile, your brows creasing in light concern. "Beards are of high importance in my culture".

"Not in mine", you shrugged, slowly trailing your thumb over his dimples and slightly chapped lips. "Besides, how else would I be able to see that gorgeous smile?". The shy grin that slowly splayed onto his face at your words was the happiest one you'd ever seen on the Prince. Your words had dissolved any unsurities in his heart. "That's the one", you giggled, Kili trying and failing to restrain his smile.

"I think I like yours better", he murmured, sweeping one of your stray curls from your face. "It's the one I fell for, after all".

The small gap between you both closed, Kili's burning lips meeting yours in a gentle touch. It started off unsure and light, becoming almost fervent when your head tilted and lips parted to allow his tongue to slip past them. Using his hand resting along your jaw, he guided your head closer to his own, relishing in the need to be as close to you as possible. His stubble scratched the skin of your face pleasurably, a soft sigh exhaling through your nose.

The both of you separated, your lips swollen and tingling from the caresses and nibbles of his own. Kili's eyes finally fluttered open after a few moments, skimming your face with a soft tenderness. "Abnâmul", he whispered, running a heated digit over your tingling lips. "You'll have to let me do that more often".

"I'll have to think about it", you mused, squeezing the hand that cradled your face affectionately.

"Hopefully not too hard", Kili sighed in pretend dejection, tracing his thumb along your cheek. "I do really love you".

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual", you chuckled softly, pressing your lips to his with a playfulness. No longer burdened with his insecurities, Kili's laughter chased your own,

"Me too".

The End. . .

________________________________________

Hey, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you wish to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Abnâmul = "beautiful", (Khuzdul)

__________________________________________

TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl

[sotwk]

About This Recommended Fics List:

All the Tolkien fanfics in this list meet the following qualifications:

Fandom: All-inclusive Tolkien (LotR, Hobbit, Silm, RoP) Type: One-shot Length: approx. 1,000-6,000 words Ship/Pairing: Any, including OCs and Reader Inserts Rating: G or PG-13 Content: No excessive angst, violence, or death. No unresolved stress. Happy endings only!

Disclaimer: I (@sotwk) have not personally screened all of these fics for their content. There may be triggers. Please read descriptions, take responsibility for your own media consumption, and observe the Golden Rule: Don't Like, Don't Read!

Link sources are either Tumblr or Ao3. Some Ao3 works are locked to registered users only.

This list of comfort fics is a collaboration and compiled through the recommendations of Readers. Thank you to everyone who contributed!

This remains a work in progress, and I will continue to accept recommendations. Please send them via DM, Ask, or Reblog. We need more, please!

Last updated: 1/23/2024

THE LORD OF THE RINGS

Aragorn

Hush Now by @entishramblings

Mirage @sileastral

Boromir

You’re the one who’s calling me to heaven by @cauliflowertree

A Shield Against the Snow by @scyllas-revenge

A Thief in the Night by @scyllas-revenge

The Floor Is Molasses by @scyllas-revenge

Anything But This by @minaturefics

Elrohir

Just a Little Longer by @theelvenhaven 

Elrond

The Weft Between the World by Antarctica_or_bust

Eomer

Alive and Alight by @minaturefics

Fair Enough by @middleearthpixie

Wildest Dreams by @scyllas-revenge

Blue Moon by @epilogue-and-prologue/@absentmindeduniverse

Eowyn

An Idiot's Guide to Gift-Giving by @scyllas-revenge

Faramir

Wrong Conclusions by @minaturefics

Frodo

Arda University by @lady-of-imladris

Over Joy by PurpleProsaist

Gandalf

Days for which they sit and wait by BloodwingBlackbird

Gimli

Mahal's Gift by @lemonsprite

Haldir

Unfairness by @errruvande

Serenade by @glassgulls

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel by @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

Legolas

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Elucidative by @shrubdaddy

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Lindir

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Merry [Seeking recommendations!]

Pippin [Seeking recommendations!]

Samwise

Better Company by @wordbunch

Let Met Take You Dancing by RaisingCaiin

THE HOBBIT

Bilbo

Primary Sources by bunn (@cycas)

Why Hobbits Eat So much by Madkat89

Fili 

Sweets by @blairsanne

Lost My Way by @lathalea

Kili

Sapphires by @lathalea

Catch Her by a_daydreaming_writer

Porridge by @fili-urzudel

Insecurities by @bookworm-with-coffee

Tauriel 

Royal Jar Opener, Reporting for Duty by @unendingwanderlust

Heavenly Inferno by midearthwritings

The Pairing Ceremony by dumbassunderthemountain

You Are My Happy Place by SmartassUndertheMountain

Liantë by WritingsOfAHobbit

Thorin

In The Woods of Ered Luin by @enchantzz

A Long Lost Home by @babe-bombadil

Dead End by @fizzyxcustard

The Arrival by @lathalea

Strong by @lathalea

Thranduil

Nothing by @entishramblings

Goodnight by @heilith

Under A Starless Sky by My_Marvel_Musings and RinzlersGhost

THE SILMARILLION

Finrod 

here, at the end of all things by Dalliansss

Glorfindel 

Warmth by @on-a-hill-by-the-sea

Stay the Night by @theelvenhaven

Golden by molerein 

THE RINGS OF POWER

Elrond

My shadows by @thesolarangel

Dating shy Elrond by @thesolarangel

Perfectly Proper by @wordbunch

Haladriel 

Stay by @scriberated

Covered in Colours by myfavouritelunatic

It’s the Last Thing I Wanted (It’s the First Thing I Do) by Helholden

Stay by @scriberated

Covered in Colours by myfavouritelunatic

It’s the Last Thing I Wanted (It’s the First Thing I Do) by Helholden

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

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[jjamjamm]

The Hobbit Masterlist

*I was formerly known as bluemountainsmajesty and plan to rewrite some of my orphaned fics on ao3. For now, I'm linking them below:

Domestic Oneshots Masterlist - A series of oneshots (with the occasional second or third part), focusing on domestic relationships and moments between you and members of the company. [33/33]

Bilbo

Comfort - Bilbo has a relaxing Valentine’s Day planned, starting with a nice bath.

More than Friends - A dear friend is visiting the Shire and Bilbo discovers he may want to be more than friends.

Bofur

Alterations - Bofur means well, but is ill prepared when ordering a dress to surprise Y/N.

Cold Shoulder - Y/N feels ostracized and like she has intruded on dwarrow life, just by living in the mountain to be with Bofur. He finds a way to fix things.

Fixated - "If it’s not too much to ask you for a Bofur smut fic where he has a particular oral fixation so he goes down on the reader a lot? I’d like a gender neutral reader" nsfw

Mr. Sociable - “Are you jealous? Want me all to yourself, do you?"

Subtlety - Bofur wants to make a grand gesture for the woman he loves, and it gets a little Great Gatsby on him.

Dori

A Perfect Fit - “I’d like to ask for a Dori (hobbit) domestic fic please. I just don’t think he gets enough love. Maybe falling for a small dark-haired human running an orphanage? Cause that would channel all those great parenting instincts he has.” request

Dwalin

A Dream Come True - "Were you dreaming about me again?" w/ Dwalin - smut smut smut NSFW

Love Story - Dwalin is a bigger softie than he lets on.

Ode to my One - Dwalin's anniversary gift for his wife is both unexpected and endearing.

Suspenders - At the royal wedding, Dwalin has a wardrobe malfunction. Reader offers to lend a hand. Hints at some NSFW

They Gave Each Other a Pledge - Thorin's youngest sister is in a secret relationship with his best friend. All is well until he catches them together. NSFW

Fili

Confessions - “Fili feat. miscommunication, confessions, nearly missed chances (and more than a little bit of wine)” I want to say this was from a Fizzy writing event.

Dwarven Merchants - Fili x reader role switching au. The Durins are merchants from Erebor while Y/N is a distant relation to human royals. Fili doesn’t feel like he’s good enough for her. [incomplete series]

Enough is Enough - Thorin’s had enough of his nephew and his wife. Borderline NSFW

Lullabies - Learning to live under the mountain brings certain challenges, like getting used to falling asleep in complete and utter silence.

Not an Overreaction - Fili x reader where Dwalin’s daughter gets caught with her boyfriend. NSFW

Sugar Rush - Fili has a sweet surprise for his wife on Valentine’s Day.

Unveiled - Fili brings you to the Shire with him. Thorin thinks he’s being clever, spiting the wizard by asking you to join the company. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

Kili

Golden Years - The company finds out Y/N’s birth year and think she’s much older than she really is. Kili tries to fix the situation, not wanting her to hate him for his poor choice of words.

Meeting Again - Kili and Y/N reunite after their first meeting on the shore. She gets a bit of a surprise.

Nearly too Late - Y/N is about to return to Rohan, Kili panics.

Nori

Favorite Star - Nori is a bit of a dork on Valentine’s Day, but a dork in love.

Supply Run - Nori and Y/N get some supplies for the company, and Nori reaches a realization.

Ori

Anonymous - These letters just keep coming, it’s time to find out who the secret admirer is.

Into the Woods - “Reader from our world figures out how to survive for months in the wild. Encounters Ori and helps him, in turn asks Ori if you would come home with him. Maybe showing some of Dori’s and Nori’s influence in Ori’s actions towards you.” requested

Thorin

For the Dancing and the Dreaming - Thorin proposing to the reader by singing the “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” from HTTYD. With the reader joining him as a duet - request

Light of Day - Winters in Erebor really take a toll on their human queen. Thorin has an idea on how to fix that.

Skyless Stars - I got inspired by a gifset of glowworms from Waitomo Caves in New Zealand -> I like to think there are caves deep in Erebor like this and lovers take strolls there. Maybe there’s a pool and they go for dips in this little hideaway- away from the others for a moment of peace and privacy, contemplation�� or secret kisses with Thorin.

Take a Break - Thorin and his Queen were invited to Rivendell to speak with Lord Elrond. She sees it as a vacation and tries to get her husband to see it the same way.

Unwind - My first smutfic: Thorin’s wife has been getting stressed with her duties lately, he tries to help her relax. NSFW

Valentine’s Festival - Thorin organizes an entire festival for the person he loves.

Wounded Pride - Thorin’s one is hurt, his nephews are to blame, the wizard is gone, and apparently, he had been right about their campsite

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 4 / Company

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

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

*Warnings for nightmares and light trauma symptoms.*

~*~*~

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield.

The madness of his grandfather had not broken him. The dragon and destruction of his home had not broken him. The years of wandering and starvation, and leading a grieving and desolate people had not broken him. Not even the death of his younger brother, nor the loss of his father had broken him. 

Immovable. Headstrong. Unyielding.

His mother had often called him pig-headed, though with the love and fondness that came from one who knew it would be the source of great strength for him over the years. His sister had called him muleish, though with more exasperation than their mother ever had. Strong-willed, Balin had told him, kindly, and with great sadness before he had left to head back West with Bilbo.

Bilbo.

Nothing had ever swayed Thorin from a decision he had made, no one could talk him out of a course of action that he had become set upon. He would always plant his feet and stand firm, determined and unwavering in the face of all things… save for one small Hobbit.

“No… no, please… don’t…”

Sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and hands in his hair, Thorin could only listen to the quiet cries of his dearest friend and greatest love from the room next door. It was agony to feel so useless, to be so close, and yet unable to do anything. He had promised himself he would give Bilbo the space he needed to deal with his trauma, knowing full well it had come at Thorin’s own hands in the first place. He shook with the silent desperation of wanting to make this right, of needing to offer comfort, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

It might even make things worse, he tried to reason with himself, as another small whimper sliced through his already broken heart. For Bilbo to dream so fearfully of what had passed between them on top of the ramparts, Thorin deep in his madness, twisted by the lure of the Arkenstone. It would be cruel for him to awaken to the face of his aggressor, who so haunted his nights. He would wake soon, anyway. He always woke himself, then settled fairly quickly afterwards. All Thorin had to do was wait…

“Thorin!”

At the terrified cry of his own name, he could not help himself. He was on his feet and through Bilbo’s door before he even registered what he had done, and the Hobbit was awake, his eyes wide and fearful and hurt, and Thorin knew he had made a mistake, but he had been seen now, he was here, and what was he to do…? 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said again, looking right at him with the fear melting away to be replaced by something akin to relief. His hair was a mess, sticking out wildly in all directions, his sheets rucked up, and one of his pillows had fallen to the floor beside his bed from where he had been shifting about so restlessly. Thorin saw all this, but it was eclipsed by Bilbo reaching out a small, shaking hand to him, and speaking with a tremor in his voice. “Please?”

Again, Thorin moved on impulse, unable to ignore such a plea. He walked quickly to Bilbo’s bedside and took the outstretched hand as gently as he could. Bilbo grasped him with both hands then, and pressed his knuckles to his forehead in an oddly reverent manner. 

“You’re real,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re alive, and you’re here.”

“You… you feared me dead?”

Bilbo didn’t look at him, didn’t move even a muscle save from the trembling of his small frame. “I dream of it all the time. That I was too late to warn you on Ravenhill, that I stayed to argue with Gandalf instead of immediately coming to find you. I dream that… that Fili and Kili… that they died horrifically and senselessly, and that you… you were… on the ice, bleeding to death, and I could do nothing but hold your hand and watch. It… it feels so real, Thorin. I am so afraid that I will wake and it will all be real, and you won’t be here.”

Thorin could hardly believe what he was hearing, even as the words came tumbling out of the still shaking Hobbit like a shameful confession. He knelt, very slowly so as not to startle Bilbo, clasping his other, much larger hand over the two small ones still holding onto him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish otherwise. 

He wanted to ask if Bilbo truly meant what he said, if it was not Thorin’s rage and threats at the gates that caused him to cry out in the darkness with fear, but he already knew the answer. Bilbo was not a liar, and even if he stretched the truth occasionally, there was no way even his quick tongue could have fabricated such sorrow and heartbreak in such a manner. It was so earnest and true, there could be no questioning the sincerity of his words.

All this time Thorin had stayed away, thinking his presence would only make things worse, when in fact proof of his life and continued existence was what would bring the Hobbit comfort most. He felt like a prize fool for not asking, simply asking, too stuck in his own guilt to offer what aid he could. 

“I could stay, if you would like?” he offered quietly, then shrank back a little as Bilbo looked up in surprise. “Only if you would like me to. I could fetch a chair and sit by the bed until you fall asleep?”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, still wide eyed, though his face a little darker from the blush that would be staining his cheeks. “Well, I would feel terrible making you sit up so that I might rest…”

“We both know I’m not sleeping, anyway,” Thorin brushed this concern aside with a wry smile, immediately feeling better for acknowledging their shared troubles. “If you would like my company, I would be more than willing to stay.” 

Bilbo fidgeted a little, then released Thorin’s hands slowly. For a moment the dwarf thought he was about to be told no, that he had misread the situation after all, and was perhaps over-stepping some kind of personal boundaries, until Bilbo scooted across the bed and patted the mattress beside himself in invitation. 

“I’ll not have you in a chair all night, but perhaps we might both sleep a little better for some company?”

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield, but in this instance, he found no will to be broken - only a relieved acceptance, as he passed the night beside the one he loved, and they both found a little peace.

[lathalea]

The White Raven 6/9

Yes, it's happening, I'm back with a fresh new chapter of this fic, and I'm so nervous! It took me a while to get here but I hope you'll like the next part of Thorin and Carra's story.

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Carra Rating: G Warnings: mentions of injuries/death Author's notes: This is the story of Thorin Oakenshield's quest to find the White Raven, a mysterious creature of legends only few were fortunate enough to see. This is the story of love stronger than time, destiny, and laws of gods and mortals alike. You can find this fic on AO3.

Special thanks to @legolasbadass for being an amazing and insightful beta reader and helping me out with Very Important Things Like Commas and Temporal Issues In Middle Earth😍🤣 Extra special thanks to @legolasbadass (yes, again, OMG, you're so popular! 🤣) and @i-did-not-mean-to for our Silm evenings and very deep discussons that helped me write this chapter 💚 Thank you everyone who showed their support for this story, you motivated me to continue writing 💙 You are the best readers in the world 🤩🤩🤩

Khuzdul: Lulkh - fool Yasthûnê - my wife ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam - [the] greatest sacrifice Adad - father Tharkûn - Gandalf

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ...

Thorin did not know how much time had passed. A few heartbeats? An hour? An eternity? Vaguely familiar shapes circled the darkening sky above him. Ravens? Eagles? He did not know that either. Thinking did not come easily any longer. His thoughts were muddled. His wound pulsed in pain with the rapidity of trickling blood. And he could not move. His foe’s blade had  pierced his body. Some unknown solid weight pressed him to the cold, unforgiving surface. It was difficult to breathe. His nostrils filled with the stench of Orc blood. The icy chill spread through his limbs. 

He opened his mouth, but only a whisper came out before Thorin lost the internal battle with his own body.

“Carra…”

Silence. Bird-shaped clouds in the sky. Snowflakes on his cheeks. Or perhaps tears. He could not keep his eyes open any longer. His mind slowly drifted off into the darkness.

***

“Uncle! Uncle Thorin!” A faraway voice invaded Thorin’s mind, stirring it awake. This voice sounded familiar. But he was tired. Too tired. The darkness beckoned, offering the comfort of oblivion. He needed to rest. Sleep.

“Look! Kili! He is here!” another voice replied, slightly deeper than the previous one. “Under that Orc carcass?” the first voice asked.

“There is so much blood… Isn’t that Azog?”

“Aye! Or what’s left of ‘im,” a third voice joined in. Older. Raspier. 

“Look at his back!” 

“Either that’s Orcrist’s tip or I’m the Goblin Queen! That son of a goat did it! Quickly now, lads, help me take that beast off Thorin. Fili, on my mark, pull!”

There was movement. More voices. Piercing pain. A dull grunt filled Thorin’s ears. Was it his own voice?

“He’s alive!”

“Thank Mahal! Uncle Thorin, can you hear me?”

“He’s unconscious, you lulkh!” “We need to get rid of that filthy Orc blade first. It’s stuck in ice.”

“Slowly now!” A sea of pain washed over Thorin, his whole body stiffening with each wave. But the darkness patiently waited for him and took him in its merciful arms once more.

***

“He’s still breathing!”

“Thorin, wake up! Wake up, ye lazy bastard!” someone growled straight into his ear. “Damn it!”

“Dwalin, look, we stopped the bleeding.”

Those voices again. Pulling Thorin back into consciousness. Into the pain and emptiness.

“Let’s finish dressing his wound and then we’ll take ‘im to Oín,” the growling one said. 

“What’s that, Fili?” the young, familiar voice said. “Where?” “Over there, by that pointy rock on the other side of the river.” 

“Looks like a dead Warg to me,” the one very close to him rasped out. A pair of hands kept on doing something to his chest. It hurt. He wanted it to stop. 

“Too small for a Warg, Dwalin. It’s… by Mahal’s beard!”

“Where are you going, Fili? Wait for me!” The first voice sounded irritated.

A sound of hurried footsteps. Iron-heeled boots against ice. 

“Those two can’t sit in one place in peace if their life depended on…” the raspily-sounding one grunted. “I tell ya, Thorin, when ye’re better, we’ll send them on guard duty. First morning shift for a month. That’ll teach ‘em!”

Somehow, it made Thorin want to smile. But now, even smiling hurt.

“It’s a raven! So big! Look at its wings! Why are you staring, Fili?” the youthful voice reached his ears again.

“I think it’s… the White Raven.”

“What?! It’s just a fairy tale!” “I’ve seen this raven before, Kili,” confidence rang in the second voice. “I think it followed us on the way to Erebor. It helped me fight off a Warg-rider in the Misties just before the eagles came.”

Thorin took a reluctant breath. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. 

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. There is so much blood… Is it dead, Fili?” “Let me see… That’s a nasty wound.”

Thorin’s muscles tensed. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to speak. But his body didn't want to obey.

And then he heard two gasps at the same time.

“What’s happening?”

“Do you see it too, Fili?”

“It’s… it’s magic!”

“No, it’s a shapeshifter!”

“Look! Look!”

“A woman?!”

Both voices intermingled in Thorin’s exhausted mind, making less and less sense. He needed to act. He needed to… He breathed in. The air smelled like snowdrops.

“Thorin! Ye’re back! And here I was thinkin’…” A tattooed forehead and a bushy moustache appeared before his eyes. “Stop squeezing my hand so hard!”

“Carra…” Thorin managed to rasp out. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“What are ye sayin’?” Dwalin demanded.

“Help…. her…” He tried again. “She is…” “What? I can barely hear ye.”

 The last wisps of strength were leaving him. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him once again. “Yasthûnê…” Thorin articulated slowly. “My… wife.”

***

Warm rays of sun gently caress Carra’s cheek, and she enjoys the sensation for a short while before opening her eyes. It takes her a moment to adjust to the bright light. She lays on soft ground, the strands of her silver-white hair interlacing with the lush green blades of grass. A multitude of colourful flowers adorns the meadow around her, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air, intertwining with the lazy buzz of bees. She rolls onto her back and stares at the perfectly clear blue sky above. Then she takes a deep breath. A distant echo of pain rings out in her mind, but there are no bruises or wounds on her body. 

When a puffy white cloud drifts into her blurred field of vision, Carra wipes off the wetness from her cheeks, stands up, and looks around. The endless meadow seems to stretch for miles in every direction. A soft breeze kisses her face, bringing the faint sound of water lapping against a distant shore. She follows it, and soon, a sparse grove of trees appears in front of her. Beyond it, she sees a stream, its silvery current sparkling in the sun. For a brief moment, an orange butterfly dances just above her nose and then flies off towards the meadow behind her. Carra’s eyes follow its flight when a curious harmony of sounds draws her attention back to the stream.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

It seems to be coming from across the stream, and Carra decides to find its source.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

As she walks through the grove, she encounters a young doe nibbling on a nearby shrub. It glances at her curiously and then trots away, as if deciding that Carra’s presence is disturbing its meal. 

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

Carra walks on, her bare feet sinking into the silky soft moss, step after step, until she finds herself at the edge of the grove. The stream is only several steps ahead. Its murmuring waters bring a hum of voices.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Ta-tap. Ta-tap. Tap.

An irritated sigh.

“Another broken thread?” A warm, feminine voice asks. It makes Carra think of spring in full bloom.

“Too many of them. It seems like another busy day for my husband.” Another woman speaks, her voice as melodious as the nearby stream.

“And you? You have been weaving since dawn,” the first one says.

“This pattern grows ever more complicated. It changes much too often for my taste these days.” The other woman sighs again. “Tell me that at least your work bears fruit.” “Some of these seeds refuse to sprout. The taint is spreading. I feel it in the earth.”

“The Fallen One is regaining his strength,” a third voice joins in. Deep and resonant. “I see his traces beyond the veil.”

Carra takes a careful step forward and focuses all of her attention at the opposite side of the stream. There, a garden of breathtaking beauty blooms before her eyes. Within it, she notices three silhouettes, the owners of the voices she hears. At first, their appearance seems similar to Elves, but soon after, Carra quickly understands her error. They are taller, their posture and movements are even more graceful, and there seems to be an otherworldly glow about them. Whenever she tries to look up into their faces, Carra has to squint—not only because of their radiance but also because their features seem to be ever-changing, fluid, like water in a mountain stream. Each of these noble figures is clad in finely ornamented robes that sway slightly when the same gentle breeze that brought her here plays with their hems.  

One of the ladies kneels on the ground, ignoring the dirt stains on her garments. Their fabric is as green as her eyes. Her right hand rests over the brown, freshly turned soil and wisps of chestnut hair fall over her eyes. The other lady, her hair wavy and black as night, sits by a strangely-looking wooden frame with numerous threads attached to this elaborate contraption. Their colours form an intricate, multi-level pattern that seems to grow—bloom—in all directions in Carra’s eyes. She immediately feels dizzy and has to look away. Then her attention focuses on the third figure that  joined the others a mere moment ago. A strapping man, his aspect equally stunning as those of his two companions, strolls towards them, his movements measured and dignified. As far as she can discern, he is clean-shaven, unlike Dwarves, and his long, white hair flows freely down his shoulders. In his hands, there is a silver jug, its surface glistening in the sun.

“Even though you bring morbid news, you are a welcome sight, brother-in-law!” the black-haired lady says, clasping her hands and moving away from her loom. “May I offer you some refreshment?” He bows reverently to his companions, and before they respond, he fills three silver cups with the contents of the jug.

Carra licks her parched lips.

“The sweet water from your fount!” The Green Lady stands up graciously and takes one of the cups. 

“I know how fond you are of its taste.” The man’s hair dances in the wind as he speaks. An orange butterfly flutters among his flowing strands. “You come bearing gifts but it is not why you are here.” The Weaver looks into his eyes.

“I have simply come to admire your weaving skills,” he offers.

“Dear Dreamer, you are curious about my winged children, are you not?” The Green Lady gives him a nod.

“It is only natural,” he refills her cup. “Some of them bear our blessing, do they not?” “Indeed they do.” The Weaver approaches him with her cup and states, “How interesting that you chose today of all days.”

“My visions are blurred. Inconclusive.” He stills, gazing up into the sky, and then turning his attention back to the two women. “Tell me, have our gifts to them remained a blessing or have they rather turned into a curse?”

The Weaver sits back at her loom and looks closely at the glistening fabric; her fingers run along some part of the pattern hidden from Carra’s sight. “Your children have been fulfilling their duties well. Although the youngest one tends to make my work a tad more challenging.”

“The youngest one?” the man frowns.

“The one with  wings dusted with silver.” The Green Lady takes a sip from her cup, her features schooled in a neutral expression.

“Silver? That certainly explains quite a bit. Your husband and his experiments…” The Weaver shakes her head. “Why now? Why this one?”

“I truly cannot say.”The Green Lady gives her an enigmatic smile and takes another sip. “But perhaps you would rather see her for yourselves.”

“Perhaps we would.” The Weaver’s fingers hover above the countless threads of her loom while the man nods. The butterfly lands on his shoulder, folding its orange wings.

“Very well. She has been listening to us long enough,” the Green Lady says, taking a look at the dark patch of planting ground under her feet. “Come, child.”

It takes Carra a blink of an eye to realise that she is not standing in the grove any longer. She gasps and blinks twice, but her eyes do not deceive her. Now she faces three luminous beings—in their garden across the stream.

“Great Mother!” she whispers and falls on her knees in front of the lady clad in green, bowing her head. In the presence of these great figures, blinded by their magnificent splendour, she feels like a feeble, featherless fledgling that fell out from its nest.

“Rise, Carra,” the Green Lady addresses her softly, and Cara does what she is told. “Do you know why you are here, my child?”

“I…” she croaks faintly, unable to stop staring into Great Mother’s incandescent face. A kaleidoscope of images fills her mind. The freezing ice. Thorin’s face when he notices her and his widened blue eyes. The Pale Orc, his teeth bare, with his blade pointed at her mate. Her bloodied talons clawing at Azog’s face. And then—darkness.

“I have died.” She hears her own voice. 

In a blink of an eye, the images are gone, dispelled like a wisp of smoke on the wind. Only the orange butterfly swirls around her head.

“Do you know, child,” there is a frown on the Weaver's face when she turns to Carra from above her loom, “how thin these threads are? How delicate? Even the slightest whiff of wind can change the pattern—or destroy it as if it was a spider’s net.”

“I have only tried to protect the pattern,” Carra swallows, feeling three pairs of eyes on her.

“You have saved some vital parts of it, that is true, but I hear that you also left us with tangles in the weave,” now her life-giver speaks, her eyes glistening like emerald waters of a fathomless lake.

“Forgive me, Great Mother. The line of Durin had to stay unbroken. I did my best. But I have failed,” Carra hears her own trembling voice. “Darkness clouded my dreams…”

“And so you staked out your own path, Silver One,” the Weaver speaks as if to herself, patting her index finger against her lips in reverie. “Which left us with all those new thread combinations.”

Then she exchanges a glance with her companions, and the man called Dreamer speaks.

“See for yourself,” his eyes, grey like a wolf’s fur, rest on Carra. First, he raises his eyebrow but then motions her towards a small rock basin. She can swear that this object has not been there a moment ago. He takes the silver jug and fills the basin with a narrow, glistening stream of water. The orange butterfly dances above it and then rises above their heads. The water’s surface resembles a mirror, and Carra’s eyes are drawn to the movement she seems to see in its depths.

Countless veins of silver run through coarse stone walls of a cave, glittering like gossamer strands that cover foliage at dawn, but instead of dewdrops, tears flow down from a Dwarf-woman’s cheeks, following the crevices of her wrinkled face. She wears a crown of snow-white braided hair and a dark blue robe with golden ornaments. In her weatherworn hand, she holds a piece of parchment with a green, rectangular seal at the bottom. Beside her sits a slightly hunched elderly Dwarf with bushy, grey whiskers and rows of faded tattoos on his bald head.

“Now we are the last ones, Dwalin,” the Dwarf lady sobs. “My boys… My brothers… And then Balin… Dain and his son… Gone.”

“Aye,” the old warrior gently closes his hand over hers. “But they will not be forgotten.”

“Gone…” Carra’s lips tremble as she stops herself at the last moment from touching the water. As she moves her hand back, a curtain of ripples falls over the image, changing the scenery.

The image of the familiar green and black shape of the Great Gate of Erebor fills the rock basin. An army of Dwarves rides to battle on their war rams, led by the King Under the Mountain. Carra recognizes his blade at once. Orcrist. It is Thorin! She gasps. The Raven Crown graces his temples frosted with grey. And his beard has the same colouring as her feathers. Silver-white. As the events unfold, she recognizes them from her past dreams. The Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills join forces with the Men of Dale. The battle is long and bloody, but the allied forces ultimately crush their enemies. At that moment, the vision changes. She does not recognize this new detail. An armour-clad warrior rides from Dale on a white war ram. As soon as Thorin sees him, he dismounts, and soon both men greet each other with a strong embrace.

“The city is safe, adad!” The young warrior grins, taking off his helmet. The wind plays with his entangled hair, which seems to glow in the setting sun.

“You did well, Thráin,” Thorin replies, his gaze softening. He presses his forehead against Thráin’s and whispers, “You made me proud, son.”

A faint whiff of wind kisses the water’s surface, transforming it into a flurry of silvery ripples.

By a gilded cradle sits a young Dwarf-woman. Her chestnut hair glints as if enchanted with fire, contrasting with the snow-white laces of her sleeping gown. The mithril beads in her braids clink when she takes her babe into her arms, and a smile brightens her heart-shaped face.

“You will be a king one day,” she whispers lovingly, kissing her little one on his forehead. Quietly humming a sweet lullaby, she adjusts the blanket her son is wrapped in. Carra notices that its hem is embroidered with little black and golden ravens.

A sudden wrinkle on the water disturbs its surface, making the water glitter like diamonds.

A cold, pale sheen illuminates the green marble walls when the King Under the Mountain ensconces on his throne. The source of this light comes from a jewel of unmatched beauty set over the king's head. The golden and obsidian crown rests on his raven-black hair. But the ruler of Erebor, Thorin II Oakenshield, is not smiling. A deep, menacing frown darkens his face. In his hand, he holds a wide dwarvish sword. Blood drips from its tip onto the cracked marble floor. There is no red-haired Dwarf queen beside him. There are no children playing at his feet. There is only deathly silence. And the shadow he casts is that of a dragon.

When the visions finally fade, Carra finds herself staring into the bottomless depths of a pair of grey eyes. She does not notice when the orange butterfly lands on the edge of the empty jug.  

***

“Carra…” her name sounded like a helpless croak. Thorin’s throat was parched.

It took him a while to regain all of his senses and open his eyes. He lay on a large cot in a spacious tent that looked suspiciously like a work of Elvish hands. He grunted. Every single part of his body seemed to hurt. Bandages covered most of his torso, and he could not move his arm without inducing even more pain. 

A louder groan left his lips when he tried to sit up and failed. Something in the nearest corner of the tent moved.

“Your Majesty…” A young Dwarf in a healer’s tunic appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “You are awake!”

“Where…” Thorin coughed. Even breathing drained his strength.

“All is well, my lord. Try not to speak, please. The enemy is defeated. Erebor is once again ours.”

“Is… my…” His attempt at speaking failed once more.

“Your kin and companions are alive and well, Your Majesty.” A mug was pressed against his lips, and Thorin greedily drank its contents. He welcomed the sweet taste of water on his tongue. It probably came from the spring at Ravenhill.

Ravenhill.

His heart sank.

“Carra…? Where…?” he whispered. Every word felt like a struggle.

“Forgive me, my lord, who?” the healer frowned.

Thorin did not respond. He was already asleep.

***

“The White Raven?” Dain Ironfoot’s brow furrowed as he clutched a tankard in his hand. “Here, in Erebor? Are ye drunk, Fili?”

“It’d take more than a mug of ale to make me drunk, Uncle!” the young dwarf protested. “I swear on Mahal’s beard. She fought the Pale Orc together with Uncle Thorin and…”

“She?” said Agnarr, one of Dain’s captains who sat on his left, raising his eyebrows, which resembled a thick, black caterpillar.

“Aye! I found her myself! And then Tharkûn said… well, he didn’t want to say anything about her at first, but I convinced him to tell me…” Kili started with a mischievous smirk, only to be interrupted by his brother.

“He followed the wizard day and night and bombarded him with questions, until Tharkûn had enough,” Fili whispered conspiratorially, leaning towards Dain.

“Well, I convinced him, didn’t I?” Kili huffed. “The wizard said that if not for her, Thorin’s fate would have been very different! You saw that wound of his.” “Aye, if that orc blade went in a bit lower, he’d be resting in the catacombs together with the kings of old,” Ironfoot muttered under his breath.

“Exactly. Besides, before he left, Tharkûn mentioned something about treasure, too!”

“A treasure?” Dain Ironfoot asked.

Kili shrugged in response, “I don’t think he meant the gold in our mountain…”

“Wizards and their riddles…” Dori sighed, pouring himself another mug of ale.

“So ye’re telling me,” Dain demanded, “that a creature straight from our legends appeared out of thin air and fought the Pale Orc with Thorin? And that the White Raven is a woman?”

“And a pretty one, too!” Bofur winked. “That hair of hers…! White as snow!”

“More like silver-white to me,” Fili puffed out a cloud of pipeweed smoke.

“Was she not supposed to be a great bird? Like the legends say?” Dain grunted.

“She is!” Kili nodded eagerly. “I mean, she was a bird, but then she turned into a woman, I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Now she looks more like a Dwarf,” Fili added.

“A raven looking like a Dwarf?” Vari, son of Nari, another of Dain’s soldiers, scratched his bald head.

“And a bit like an Elf, too,” Kili grinned and waved his hand in the air. “She has pointy ears, you know. Ouch, Fili, why did you kick me?”

Dain groaned, “Pointy ears…? By Mahal’s beard, I think I need another mug of ale.”

“Are ye drinkin’ without us, ye sewer rats?” Dwalin appeared by the table, followed by his brother.

“We’re all celebratin’ our victory over the orcs and wargs!” Captain Agnarr pointed at the multiple groups of Dwarves gathered around them in one of the least ruined halls of the Lonely Mountain.

“There’s nothing better for a soldier’s morale than a few casks of the Iron Hills ale,” Balin sat beside him and poured two mugs—for himself and Dwalin. “What would you say about a toast?”

“To victory?” Ori proposed.

“We drank for that last time,” Vari shook his head. 

“If all you said is true, lads,” Drengi, a large dwarf, said, two golden teeth glinting in his mouth, “we should be toasting the White Raven.”

“To the White Raven!” strong voices echoed against the ceiling of the cavern as more dwarves joined the toast with their mugs raised into the air.

“To Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!”

“To King Thorin!”

“To the Lonely Mountain!”

“To the Longbeards!”

In the growing racket, Balin turned to Fili and Kili.

“What did you tell them, lads?”

“Nothing much besides what we saw when we found Uncle Thorin after the battle,” Fili said.

“And that the White Raven helped us during the Quest,” added Kili. “Fili, I completely forgot! Remember what Uncle Thorin called her when we were taking him back to the Lonely Mountain?”

Fili nodded, but before he answered, Balin put his hand on Kili’s shoulder.

“That, my boy, is better left unsaid.”

“But Uncle Dain said that the King Under the Mountain will need a queen now and that he has a perfect candidate for Uncle Thorin. How can Uncle Thorin marry her if he…” Kili continued.

“This is the conversation that Thorin—and Thorin only—needs to have with Dain. Do you understand?” the elderly dwarf searched their faces solemnly.

“Aye, Uncle Balin, we do,” Fili reassured him.

***

“...since we moved his majesty into the Mountain. His fever has dropped and the wounds are healing well but he keeps on asking about someone named Carra.”

“Thank you, Nari, you were most helpful. Try to catch some sleep. I will stay with him now.” Words spoken in a soothing timbre of voice reached Thorin through the haze of dreams.

“Balin?” he blinked a few times, trying to chase the drowsiness away.

“I’m here, laddie,” a familiar silhouette in a burgundy robe stood before him. “You gave us a scare for a wee moment there.”

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling at the sight of the familiar face of his old mentor. As he attempted to sit up, an intense spike of pain ran through the left side of his body. The only thing he managed to do was lift his head slightly. At that moment, an additional pillow was placed beneath it. He grunted. At least the Dwarvish beds were much more comfortable than the Elvish ones.

“Carefully now, laddie. No sudden movements. Your foot needs time to heal properly. Your left shoulder and arm were badly injured too. The healers had to use a splint…” 

It was a challenge to focus on Balin’s words, but as the dizziness subsided, Thorin’s thoughts became more coherent. Various parts of his body ached, his left leg felt heavy, and he could not move his left arm—it was indeed encased in a splint, exactly like Balin said—but he was able to take a look around the room. Even if he did not recognize this particular place, he recognized its walls hewn from the same greenish rock as the walls of the old chambers he used to live in as a young prince. A lifetime ago. And now, he was home again. Home.

“Tell me everything. Is Erebor safe?” With a pained grunt, he turned towards Balin. 

“Aye. Worry not, the Mountain is well-protected. Dain is here with his warriors. We are working on making our home liveable again,” Balin replied, patting Thorin’s right hand, which lay on the bed. “You did well, laddie. The corridors and caverns are echoing with stories about the return of the King Under the Mountain who killed the Pale Orc and avenged his esteemed grandsire.”

Killed. He swallowed, attempting to ignore the memories of that fight that came back to him like an unstoppable flood—and of the price he paid to survive. Or rather, the price someone else paid for him. He lost her.

“King? Me? A Dwarf who succumbed to the curse that plagues his house? Who valued hoarded gold over…” With a sneer, Thorin looked away, his voice hollow. “I am not worthy of that title, Balin. Not any longer.”

“Do you remember that audience in the throne room when King Thrór met with the refugees from the White Mountains? You were still a prince at that time.”

“How could I forget? Not only did I break protocol, but also I interrupted Grandfather. I declared that if he would not send his troops, I would fight the Orcs who invaded their homes—on my own. Mother was truly ashamed of me on that day. And Father would not speak to me for a month.” “Ah, the impulsiveness of youth,” Balin nodded. “But you have always had your heart in the right place. Do you remember what I told you on that very day?”

“Life is like a battle. When you fall, you have to rise again and fight. Otherwise you lose,” Thorin said under his breath. He recalled the countless nights when he whispered those words to himself, lying on the hard ground, far from home, when the thought of retribution was the only thing that drove him forward.

 “We reclaimed our homeland thanks to you. You overcame the curse and led us to victory. You have fought and won this great battle, Thorin,” the elderly Dwarf spoke softly.

“I did not. Not alone,” Thorin admitted, unable to look Balin in the eye, his throat constricted. Something ached in his chest, and it was not his wound. “I had help.”

“Indeed. I saw the Pale Orc’s corpse. It bore marks of dwarven weapons… and others that bore resemblance to talons and a beak,” the older Dwarf said.

Thorin did not reply. Not because he chose not to speak but because the right words would not come to him.

After a pause, his mentor added, “Fili claims that he heard a deafening sound, like a large bird’s screech, only moments before they caught sight of you on the frozen river.”

“A screech…” Thorin repeated to himself. Something stirred in his mind; Azog’s hideous grimace, the ice beneath him reverberating with a strange sound that filled the air, and the moment when the tip of Orcrist’s blade plunged into the Orc’s chest. He blinked several times. His own words rang in his ears.

“Carra, no!”

He remembered the darkness that came afterwards. And pain.

 A life for a life.

It should have been him.

Balin’s voice seemed to come from far away.

“... I heard the guards retelling the old legends of the White Raven. And a new tale is spreading through Erebor: a story about a large, white-feathered raven that bravely fought by the King Under the Mountain’s side at Ravenhill,” he said.

Thorin remained silent, staring at the white sheets that covered him. White as ice on that day. White as the feathers in her wings. He felt cold.

Silence seemed to stretch between them like the bottomless chasm beneath the Mountain until Balin spoke again. 

“Help me understand this, laddie.” 

Reluctantly, Thorin’s fingers found the leather band strung around his neck and pulled it from under the blankets that covered him. His old friend’s eyes widened at the sight of a silver-white feather.

“The White Raven…” The words in Thorin’s mouth tasted like ash. “Carra. I have known her for most of my life. After Smaug's attack, she left her nest behind and followed me to the Blue Mountains.” Thorin met his mentor’s eyes. 

“The White Raven... The stuff of legend, eh?” Balin hummed, examining the feather with reverence.

“I am aware of what it must sound like. Legend or not, she is real. She was,” he corrected himself, swallowing hard. “At Ravenhill… Had she not intervened, Azog would have taken my life. She chose ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam and gave her life for me instead.”

“Thorin… By Mahal’s hammer, laddie, what are you saying?” The feather fell from his mentor’s hand onto the bed. “’Ugbalul ’uhaskhajam, the act of sacrificing one’s life in battle to protect another, is only performed by one’s kin!”

“Or a spouse,” explained Thorin flatly.

Balin looked down at the silver-white feather and then glanced towards the door before speaking again.

“Dwalin told me that you spoke of a wife,” the elderly Dwarf said. “We thought it might have been your feverish mind speaking, nothing more.”

“It was not. She is… Carra was my wife, Balin.” His own whisper sounded hollow.

Balin stayed silent for a few heartbeats and then cleared his throat, as if deciding on something.

“That certainly explains quite a bit—including a very curious occurrence. You see, Thorin, after the battle, we did not find any signs of this revered bird at Ravenhill. Instead, there is a strange woman of mysterious provenance in our infirmary, and the healers…”

“Here, in Erebor?! Alive?” Thorin grabbed Balin’s sleeve, seeing him nod. “Tell me, what colour is this woman’s hair?!”

“Her hair is like this feather: white, dusted with silver,” his mentor replied. “She lives and is under good care. We brought her into the Mountain together with you, but...”

“Thank Mahal!” Thorin rested on his right arm, lifting his upper body as much as he could. “Balin, take me to her at once!”

Swiftly, he moved to the side in an attempt to rise from the bed while a pang of pain shot through his body, sudden like lightning. He fell onto his pillows, taking deep breaths and fighting a wave of dizziness.

“I am afraid you are in no shape to walk, laddie,” Balin rested his hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You are on the mend, but the healers say that you will need time to…”

“Balin! By Mahal’s beard!” Thorin fisted his hand, trying to curb his temper and ignore the pain. “Do you not understand? I need to see her!”

“You are as stubborn as your grandfather,” the elderly Dwarf shook his head in defeat. “Let me talk with Nari and see what can be done. I will be back in a jiffy.”

Balin’s jiffy felt like an eternity to Thorin, but he waited, albeit impatiently.

Carra was alive.

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ... 🌟

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @justfollowtheroad @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @narniaandthenorth @i-am-the-raven-queen @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow

[msnihilist]

Ben 10 Fic Recs for Rare/Unusual Pairings

Note: some of these fics are E-rated. Read the tags. No crossovers. No BenRook, Gwevin, Bevin, Bwen, Benkai, or Benlie (unless in a polycule). All of the links are AO3 fics. Enjoy!

Ben Pairings

Ben/Albedo → Just Galvan Things & So Much More & Vile Urges & Nightmares Can Only Lead to Comfort & Rekindled Hatred & Trapped Together and Becoming Human & in nomine patri et fili spiritus sancti & Christmas And 3am Conversations

Ben/Argit → Argit Asks a Favor

Ben/Attea → good guy gone bad

Ben/Charmcaster → The Bad and The Worst & Magical Hands & Thanatophobia (Is what I feel for you) & Lovesick...but also genuinely sick & Shut Up and Kiss Me, Hero & Couple's Discount & We'll Meet Again & The Island Misadventures of Ben and Charmcaster

Ben/Eddie → Once Summer Ends

Ben/Elena → Lysis & The Redeem of The Swarm & Wanting vs Waiting & Time Lost

Ben/Ester → Faces

Ben/Eunice → A Very Eunisexual Christmas

Ben/Jennifer → Crossroads

Ben/Ken → Dropping In

Ben/Kenny → A Gift, From Thirty Years in the Future & New Day, Same Person & His Universe

Ben/Khyber → Distractions & Hunter and Prey & Not Yet

Ben/Looma → Conquered

Ben/Lord Transyl → La Petite Mort & Drifting off to a tempting sleep

Ben/Lucy → Future Sight

Ben/Malware → Hunger

Ben/Michael → Sorry, I wasn't born with a filter

Ben/Reiny → The Wedding & The Art of the Deal

Ben/Rojo → A Little Fun

Ben/Tetrax → Motivation

Ben/Vilgax → Sospes Sui & I'm Taking What's Mine and Your Time Has Come

Ben/Zs'Skayr → Ghost at the Bellwood Motel & One

Alternate Ben Pairings

Ben 23/Ben Prime → For You

Ben 23/Gwen 10 → Different Times

Ben 23/Rook Prime → All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For a Thing I Cannot Name

Mad Ben/Bad Ben → Hot Mess

Mad Ben/Ben Prime → An Unlikely 'Friend' In An Awkward Situation

Mad Ben/Mad Rook → Like That

Nega Ben/Nyancy Chan → Catnip and Smoothies

No Watch Ben/Ben Prime → Never Get Out of Your Head & Insanity & Unorthodox & Don't Tell Paradox & Nothing Lasts

No Watch Ben/Bad Ben → You Saved Me Even Though We're Enemies

For Other Characters, Click Here

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

It’s been a day and I’m so thankful to be rereading some Fili fluff 😩 Snuggled up to a sleepy Fili is where I need to be right now

In Your Arms

Pairing: Durin’s Garage Fili x reader

Words: 682

Warnings: none

Summary: Both you and Fili are exhausted, physically and emotionally, from the toils of the world and life and find comfort in each other and a nap.

A/N: I haven’t really been writing and I realized I haven’t posted anything in over 30 days and have been struggling so much with that, and as much as I want to be working on my other stories this was something quick and comforting that came to me so here. And yes it’s sleep intimacy again don’t come at me.

There’s so much going on in the world right now and I think everyone, regardless of what is happening in your life, could use a little rest in the arms of your favourite character. 💗

———

Fili couldn’t keep his eyes open a moment longer; being stuck under the belly of a rusty car until the early hours of the morning and then waking up to go back again after only a few quick hours of sleep finally having caught up to him.

His body felt beat up, his limbs heavy with fatigue and mind foggy; and even still he felt guilty as he sank into the welcoming hug of the mattress. He shouldn’t be taking a nap, he thought as his head crashed against the pillow that smelled of you, but it felt so good. One arm moved up to flop above his head while the other rested on his stomach, his thumb moving idly over his own skin in a soothing way in your absence.

Just a few minutes, he told himself as his eyelids fell shut and a deep sleep quickly took him.

Your day hadn’t even been that bad, you cursed yourself as you furiously wiped away the tears that fell onto your cheeks despite trying to hold them back. There were far worse things to be upset about, far worse situations to be in or concern yourself with but you couldn’t help it. You felt drained, exhausted and defeated. The world was heavy and when you thought of one bad thing, it instantly snowballed into something else that made you want to weep even more. But your heart lifted a little when you saw Fili’s truck already parked in the driveway, relieved he was home after not having seen much of him the last two days. You missed him, ached for him more than ever, and you made it into the house before you could register what your body did to get you there.

It was quiet, and your heart beat with a pang of worry when you didn’t hear music coming from the kitchen or the sound of pots and pans clinking together in a harmony of dinner being made.

You placed your shoes next to Fili’s boots that had been kicked off carelessly, the oil stained into the worn leather evidence of the grueling and dedicated hours he put into his craft.

Soft snores became recognizable as you moved toward the bedroom, and you smiled weakly when you saw the tired form of your loving mechanic sprawled out in bed sound asleep.

A wash of fatigue hit you like a wall, your body and mind agreeing that a nap was the best choice on this emotionally draining day, and you instantly crawled into bed and tucked yourself up against Fili’s warm and welcoming body, knowing that in his arms everything that felt too much to bear would become a little less daunting.

He startled awake, jumping slightly as though he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep or that it wasn’t his intention to do so.

He hummed and rubbed his thumb and forefingers over his blood-shot eyes aggressively, trying to wake himself up after being in such a hard sleep. “I was just about to get up.”

You nestled closer to him, wrapping your arm over his torso, your leg covering his like a vine.

“Let’s stay here a while,” you requested quietly, giving him a slight squeeze in hopes he would comfort and ground you just as easily as he always did.

Fili adjusted slightly to look at you, seeing the weariness in your face, your worry and unease unable to go unnoticed even in his own worn-out state.

Without saying a word, he pulled you closer and placed his lips on your forehead, allowing you to sink in against his chest, his warmth and scent surrounding you in a reprieve you’d been desperate for all day. His hand smoothed over your hair as he languidly stroked the back of your head before he ceased and placed another kiss on your crown while you nestled into his furry chest.

Fili let out a compliant sigh, more than happy to lay here with you in his arms for as long as it took for you both to get the rest you sought.

———

Taglist:

Everything:

@guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit @ragsweas @faeriefics

[snazzynacho]

Snapdragon & Co. Masterlist

The Hobbit fan fiction/Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!fairy!elf!OC

(My (mainly lotr/hobbit) account is @whorin-oakenshield yet I’m posting this on here bc this is where I’ve already posted my fan fics to lol)

Read on ao3 here

Read on wattpad here

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Dragon Sickness, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Found family, Mage, Magic, Psychic abilities, Just kiss you idiots, Fae, Fairies, Fae magic, Thorin got that Royal Rizz™, Fili and Kili are sillies, Multiple Endings.

Synopsis: A lonely half-elf-half-fairy and her long-lost sister, whose speciality is magic, join forces with Thorin Oakenshield and Company. To them they are doing a noble thing but little do they know what darkness lies ahead. And what of their past they have to face.

Or, in which,

Nessa had a heart of gold and Thorin was addicted.

chapters under the cut:

Chapters:

1

2

More coming soon!

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Sneak Peak at The Darker Generation

Here's a softer Dis and Fili scene from what is a very anger filled and whump focused fic. Thorin at this point is under the dragon sickness.

...

The walk home seemed to trail on forever, Fili’s mind in a whirl of thoughts. So caught up with himself he almost walked straight past Dis once he had gotten home, the bag in his hand for her completely forgotten.

“Fili? Sweetheart, are you alright?” she asked her son with a tilt of her head. Fili almost jumped six feet into the air at the sound of her voice and she chuckled lightly. “Sorry son, didn’t mean to scare you,”

“Amad,” he shook his head, his hand on his chest in an attempt to slow his racing heartbeat, “you almost gave me a heart attack,”

She chuckled again and sat at the small table in the lounge. She gestured for him to do the same and he sat next to her.

“Tea inúdoy?”

“No thank you,”

Dis raised a brow and gave him a hard look. He eventually sighed and nodded, and she poured him a cup and placed in in front of him. It was quiet as they sipped. Calm. Peaceful. The taste of chamomile and honey on his tongue was pleasant and he tilted his head back slightly and let his eyes slip shut in tranquility, a luxury he didn’t often allow himself.

“You know, its ok to sit down and take a moment every now and again,”

Fili opened one eye and watched his mother. Her eyes were on her cup as she swirled the liquid in her grasp. She looked older than the blond darrow could every remember her looking, and the smile she wore didn’t reach her eyes.

“Amad, is everything ok?” he asked, turning to face her, “you are… upset. Have I done something wrong again?”

She gave a tight-lipped smile and rested her hand on his own. “Not at all child, I have been caught up in my memories today is all. Actually, I wanted to ask about you. You seem to be of a similar state as of late. With all your work and training I’ve hardly had time to talk with you. You are distant Fili. Call it a mother’s nagging but I have missed you,”

“You have… missed me?”

“Missed you, yes,” she nodded, “When you were younger, if you had a problem, or if you were upset, you would ask to have tea with me. Do you remember? We would sit down, just the two of us, and we would talk over tea and work everything out. You would sit on my lap, steal one of my biscuits, and smile when I would reassure you everything was going to be ok,”

“I may be a bit to big to sit in your lap now amad,” he joked lightly and she gave a small laugh in return.

“Perhaps you are, and I have no biscuits to be robbed of, but I would like to recreate the third act of our tea time,”

“I…” the blond started and stopped. As much as he wanted his mother to comfort him, he had no idea what to ask of her. His mind as of late had been a hurricane and his emotions no better. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt, the numbing sensations that took him over for hours, or the guilt that seemed to drown him for no apparent reason. How did he tell her that he felt like shaking and crying out of the blue, for no purpose other than to lose himself?

“Fili?” she tried again, her eyes searching his for anything she could get ahold of.   

“I just…”

The front door swinging open cut him from any thought he had. He sat up straight and looked down at his lap as Thorin came inside muttering under his breath. His hair was a mess and an irritated sneer sat on his face as he dumped his jacket over the chair.

“Oh Fili your home,” Thorin said, his brows scrunched together.

“Yes?” he questioned back.

“And your having…?”

“Tea,” Dis answered with a frown, “with his mother,”

The dark haired darrow let out a grunt and wondered into the kitchen.

“Now, where were we?” Dis asked again, a hopeful smile on her lips.

Fili just shook his head. Any words that he had put together, left him the moment his uncle had come home.

“I’m fine amad, really,” he assured her, finishing his drink in a hurry, the taste no longer as sweet as it was a moment before.

His mother gave a sigh and swirled her cup again. “I truly hope that is the case mizimith,”

She brushed a braid behind his ear, her touch tender and lovingly. He leaned towards her slightly and she smiled.

“I’m stronger than you think amad,”

“Yes, you are. Just like your father, but please remember little one,” she looked at his with pleading eyes, “you don’t have to be strong alone,”

“I’m not alone amad, I’ll be alright,”

[crossingbaranduin]

One of the main reasons I think I stick with Bagginshield “Bilbo stays in Erebor” fics, rather than Reshirement, is that I tend to shy away from writing Fili as taking over as King immediately or soon after BOTFA if Thorin goes back to the Shire with Bilbo. I don’t think it’d be impossible for him to do so, but I think, in the same way as Thorin and Thror, it’d likely come at a great personal cost to himself to have to do so while barely being of age. Add the political conflicts of Erebor being barely revived, any possible power struggles, and more, aaand that’s a lot to go wrong!

Now, exploring the fun angst and hurt/comfort of Fili realizing “shit, I might be heir but I’m not actually ready to take over alone right now”? 10/10. I just can’t commit to going through with it in a fic because I’m a softie who needs the comfort after angst, LOL.

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober 2024

Here's the lineup for this year's spooky, comfy, cozy writing challenge. I got this list from @bigtreefest and really like the ideas that I got from it. If any of these catch your eye let me know and I'll add you to the taglist, other than that just enjoy the next month's worth of blurbs and one-shots full of all the fantastic fall vibes!

p.s. the divider featured on all my cozytober fics is from @strangergraphics

Day 1: Borrowing a Sweatshirt or Coat: Logan Howlett x F! reader

Day 2: Wrapped in a Soft Fuzzy Blanket: Fili x Hobbit!reader

Day 3: Chilly Fall Day: Eddie Munson x gf!Reader

Day 4: The slight smell of smoke in the air: Eliot Spencer x Reader

Day 5: Hot Chocolate or Tea: Jim Hopper x wife!reader

Day 6: Cuddles after a bad day: Jake Jensen x gf!Reader

Day 7: The Smell of Fresh Baked Goods: Bucky Barnes x wife!Reader

Day 8: Apple Cider Donuts: Dad!Steve Rogers x mom!reader

Day 9: Fall Road Trip: Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party: Tony Stark x wife!reader, Platonic Peter Parker x reader

Day 11: Last Minute Family Gathering: Steve Harrington x gf!reader

Day 12: Cozy Coffee Shop: Eliot Spencer x reader

Day 13: Game Night : Eddie Munson x gf!reader

Day 14: Playing in the leaves: Benedict Bridgerton x wife!reader

Day 15: Visits from the dead: Matt Murdock x ghost!reader

Day 16: Facing your fears: Curtis Everett x reader

Day 17: Spooky Stories: Sam Uley x imprint!reader

Day 18: Trick or Treating: dad!Bucky x mom!reader

Day 19: Abandoned Train Station: Logan Howlett x reader

Day 20: Rotting Things: Thorin x reader

Day 21: Haunted Hotel: Eliot Spencer x reader

Day 22: Too freaked out to sleep alone: Steve Harrington x reader

Day 23: Halloween Pranks: Jake Jensen x reader

Day 24: Carving Pumpkins: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Day 25: Ghosts of your past: Lucifer Magne x reader

Day 26: Comfort during sickness: Jim Hopper

Day 27: "Selfcare is important": Aaron Hotchner x reader

Day 28: Reconnecting: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Day 29: "Thanks for Putting up with me": Paul Lahote x reader

Day 30: Comfort Food: Eliot Spencer x reader

Day 31: Reader's Choice: Congrats! if you read this far you get a chance to decide what the big finish of this year's challenge will be! All throughout October if you send me an ask with a fall prompt and a character pairing your idea will be considered for the finale!! Submissions will be accepted until October 28th.