#fotfictember

[fantasyinallforms]

Hello! Can I request "warm beverages" with Bagginshield for fotfictember?? Pretty please?

Of course, you can! In typical Fantasy fashion, I did accidentally make a 1600-word one-shot instead of a drabble but oh well. I hope you enjoy!

To Warm A Heart-{T} Bagginshield- 1600 words

“Thorin, why are you staring at this apple tree?” Bilbo asked cautiously. 

“Because you’ve been shivering for two days,” Thorin replied curtly. 

“I’m now more confused than when I initially asked the question.” Bilbo snorted. “Are you planning on picking them? It’s a good season for it. In another month, all the fruit will have fallen down.” Bilbo reached for an apple on one of the lowest branches but couldnt quite grab it, even with his adorable little jumps. Thorin grabbed the branch and bent it low so Bilbo could take what he liked. 

“I take it you like apples?” 

“I love apples! This time of the year makes me miss the fall celebrations around the party tree. Bell Gamgee’s apple tarts are the year's highlight for anyone lucky enough to grab one before they’re gone.” Bilbo sighed and cleaned the dirt off the apple before taking a big bite. Thorin had to look anywhere else but his face as the juice dripped down his chin, begging to be cleared away. “They’re delicious! Thorin, you’ve got to try!” When he turned around, Bilbo handed him the apple, encouraging him to take a bite. He stifled a groan and took the apple, trying not to think too carefully about the fact that Bilbo’s lips had been wrapped around it seconds ago. It was sweet and perfectly ripe, as he had been told. When he confirmed this, Bilbo beamed and grabbed as many apples as he could carry to bring to their companions. 

Thorin went back to staring at the tree. The winds had become harsher as their elevation gradually increased. For the past two nights, he had witnessed Bilbo shivering even after he had offered his warmer coat. He needed something to warm him up from the inside. There was a recipe that the dwarves had adopted after their exile when food was scarce, and warmth was hard to come by. All provisions had to be used in their entirety, and if there was a secondary use, then that was even better. They had learned that if they boiled apple cores, it released the last of the juice, and if mixed with alcohol, it was hydrating and warming.  

Immediately upon spotting the apple tree, he halted their march and made camp. He could make Bilbo something to keep him warm, and he wouldn't have to use apple scraps to do it. He beckoned Fili and Kili over with the instruction to get every ripe apple they could down before moving on to speak with Bombur. He found the dwarf taking stock of his supplies, which now included a new apple. 

“Bombur a moment of your time, please,” Thorin called. The large dwarf looked up cheerfully. 

“Of course, what can I do for you, Thorin.” 

“I need a pot and to know what spices you have.” He gruffed. 

Bomber's eyebrows shot into his forehead. “Are you planning on cooking tonight?

“Cooking no. But I am making something. Your spices?” Thorin waited for Bombur to overcome the initial shock before reading into his bag to pull out a large tin filled with small compartments. I have the basics: salt and pepper. Some dried garlic and parsley. I have a few orange and lemon peels left, and Oh, I have a few cinnamon sticks, clove, and at least one nutmeg in here, it looks like.” Bombur looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to ask to use one or many. 

“I need the nutmeg, clove, and cinnamon. The orange peel, too, if you can spare it.” Bombur handed them over without question, knowing full well what the king was up to. The boys returned with their tunics pulled up to make makeshift baskets, bantering about who could carry more. They had brought more than he needed, which was good. They could dry what they didn’t use that night and use it later. Thorin surveyed the area and smiled when he saw Bilbo leaning against a tree wrapped in Thorin’s coat, speaking to Ori. There was a turning point on this journey when the concerns of that hobbit had become his. He had rebelled against it at first because all those who had traveled with him were his family now, but not like Bilbo. Bilbo was his beating heart living on the outside of his body. Handsome and clever, and stubborn and painfully vulnerable. More than all the others in this camp spare his nephews, Bilbo was his priority.

 The night drew in, and as expected, the air grew cold. Bilbo had fallen asleep against the tree, and Thorin could hear his teeth chattering from where he sat. He gave his pot a sip and then turned to his friend.

“Dwalin, what’s in your flask?” Thorin barked. 

“Something I’m not sharing,” Dwalin replied. He pulled out the flask to take a sip, and Thorin snatched it from his hands. He gave it a sniff. 

“Whiskey. That will work.” He dumped the flask's contents into the pot and stirred it. 

“You mind telling me why you just dumped the last of my fucking whiskey into that experiment you’ve been working on,” Dwalin growled.

“It’s cider like they used to make at the camps after Erebor fell. It’s too cold, and we have few supplies to keep warm after the goblins.” Thorin stood up. With the alcohol added, the drink was done. 

“You know there are easier ways to warm someone up.” Dwalin cast his eyes at Bilbo. “You’re coats big enough for both of ya if you’re close enough.” 

“I would not be welcome,” he had barely finished the sentence before Dwalin snorted.

“I forgot you’re stupid. Look. The nights are only going to get colder as we reach Erebor. Too cold for anyone to sleep alone. So is it going to be you sleeping next to that little thing, or is he going to have to curl up with Bofur instead?” He was being bated, and he knew it, but Thorin’s eyes still found the miner to check his proximity. He growled at himself as much as Dwalin for taking the bait. 

“If he wanted to share a bedroll with me, he would ask. I will not impose myself on him and call it convenience.” Thorin looked around for two mugs and ladled the cider into them until they were full. He carried them over to the Hobbit and sat them down on a flat rock. He regretted having to wake him. Despite the chattering teeth, he looked peaceful. His hair had fallen in front of his face, and his nose twitched even in his sleep. He was slumped in an odd position he would definitely be unhappy with come morning. With a hand on the side of Bilbo’s head, he guided him into a sitting position. “Master Baggins.” He said his name more firmly than he meant to, and his eyes flew open, slightly startled. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Did you want your coat back before you turned in?” Bilbo stretched, and Thorin turned away so as not to ogle him. If he had it his way, he would never see that coat again unless it was wrapped around the hobbit's shoulders. 

“I came to bring you something for the cold.” Thorin placed the cup in Bilbo’s hands and watched with satisfaction as he curled his hands around its warmth.  

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s not too cold out.” Bilbo argued,

“Bilbo, the entire camp can hear your teeth chattering.” Blush spread across Bilbo’s cheeks as he sipped the cider. The moment it touched his lips, his eyes went wide over the rim of the cup. He drained half his mug before coming up for air. 

“This is amazing! Did you make this?” Bilbo took another big gulp and looked contented. 

“I did. I thought you could use something to help you sleep better.” He took a sip from his own cup and was pleased with the result on such short notice. When he looked up, Bilbo was staring at him, blushing all the way to the top of his pointed ears and blinking rapidly. “Did I add too much alcohol? I wanted there to be enough to keep warm. It was Dwalin’s, and knowing what he drinks, I might have overdone it.” Thorin took another sip to gauge its strength. If anything, it was a bit weak. Bilbo didn't seem to want to elaborate, so they sat in silence for a little while, just enjoying the sounds of the woods around them, now free of chattering. When Thorin saw Bilbo’s mug get empty, he leaned into reach for it, intending to get him a refill. To his great surprise, Bilbo took that moment to lean forward as well, intentionally surging up to meet his lips. Thorin’s senses went white with bliss, and all his mind knew for the next moment was the taste of Bilbo's breath. Warm, soft lips and that slightly upturned nose pressing into his cheek. He was dumped back into reality as Bilbo drew away in panic, covering his face.

“I-I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me. That was wrong. I thought maybe…. No.. no excuse, please forgive me.” he made to get up, and Thorin quickly leaned forward, trapping the hobbit against the tree. 

“Wait, please don't leave.” He hated that he saw a hint of fear in Bilbo’s eyes, but he couldn't let him up. Not until he knew what that was. 

“I’m really sorry, Thorin. I misunderstood.” Bilbo babbled. 

“Did you kiss me intentionally?” Thorin asked. Bilbo nodded sheepishly. That was all he needed. He gathered Bilbo into his arms and returned his kiss with all the passion he could muster. The richness of the cider had never tasted better or warmed him so deeply than on Bilbo’s tongue.   

And if he heard Dwalin shout, “It’s about fucking time.” He ignored it. 

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

I have decided that at the end of the year, all the drabbles I've done for events will be going into a 2023 collection on AO3. Also, I don't love the title of this fic and might change it later.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cinnamon

Second request, this time by @lordoftherazzles, my dearly beloved...

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Words: 172

Warnings: Illness & its remedy

Thorin stared at the two cups with intransigent sternness.

“You better be right, Ori, or else…” he muttered under his breath as he tried to thread his thick, broad fingers through the delicate handles of the custom-made mugs.

Bilbo had lately been under the weather but, between Óin and Ori, Thorin’s old company mates had come up with a beverage that was supposed to make him feel better.

“Cinnamon,” Bilbo croaked immediately and brought the thin-walled drinking vessel to his stuffy nose eagerly. “Where did you get this from?”

“I have connections,” Thorin declared darkly—he was not about to let his beloved know that he had begged Bard to convince Thranduil to procure him a spice ineptly described as “sweet but spicy…and delicious”.

“You’re the very best,” Bilbo sighed after a long sip. Smiling blissfully and pinking up almost instantly, he sank back into the thick blankets. At that sight, Thorin decided that this smile was worth every indignity he had suffered to give his Hobbit a tiny piece of home.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[vazzrock]

Fandom: LOTR, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion & Other Histories of Middle-Earth

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Elrond Peredhel

Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Elrond Peredhel, Lindir, some random Imladris extra I made up, OC cameo (Eledhril the librarian)

Tags: Rivendell, Bilbo Baggins in Rivendell, Caring Elrond Peredhel, Canon Compliant

Summary:

Bilbo and Elrond spend some time together in the grand library of Imladris.

Written for FOTFictember's Day 14 prompt: Library!

[cilil]

🍂 Prompt: Warm Beverages | Arien x Eönwë 🍂 Synopsis: Arien has returned to Vána's meadows for the night to rest. Eönwë joins her. 🍂 Warnings: / 🍂 Double drabble

For @maironite. Thanks for the request and I hope you like this little something ^^

"You look stressed," is the first thing Arien says when Eönwë joins her on Vána's meadows. 

Only few know that she likes to return to her old home at night to rest, but he is always welcome. 

"I do?" Feathers rustle as he sits down next to her, his wings drooping slightly. Eönwë forces a smile. "I suppose I was never good at hiding things from you." 

"Indeed." Arien lifts the cup of tea she's been holding to her lips, then suddenly pauses as if she has an idea. Her palms glow for a brief moment until steam rises from the cup, and she carefully hands it to Eönwë. 

"Here. You look like you need it." 

He hesitates. "Please, you don't have to–"

"I want to." 

"W-well, if you insist–" 

"I do." 

Defeated, Eönwë accepts her offer and takes a few careful sips. Arien looks pleased when she sees a healthy flush of pink appearing on his cheeks. 

"Spicy," he comments. 

"Of course," she grins. "I wouldn't have it any other way, as you know." 

Gingerly, she tucks a stray lock of hair behind his feathered ear. 

"Now, why don't you stay for a while and tell me everything, hmm?" 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Chapters: 22/22 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Gríma Wormtongue Additional Tags: Pre-War, Animal Sacrifice, and other Rohan activities because you all know me and world building etc, Drunk Sex, Hate Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, the usual sort of nonsense you can expect from these two, politicking, Attempts at Manipulation, but oh no they both might have fEiLiNgS for each other and NEITHER asked for that, Harvest Festival, no horses die in the making of this story so feel free to get emotionally attached to them, Alternate Universe, redemption arc but not really but kind of but not, idk guys it's Grima, Seiðr, Divination, weird feral rituals, some gender shit happens, magic hermaphordism etc, normal things - you know how it goes Summary:

September 3018, war is brewing (or already arrived, as some would say), and Grima is up to his usual tricks and nonsense, including living rent-free in Eomer's brain. Orcs are prowling, wargs are making mischief, treason is in the air, and the harvest is around the corner. In the midst of all the soothing, spying, oath-breaking, family drama, and invasive questions about what it means to lead in uncertain times, Grima realises that the master he's betrayed everyone for has turned on Sauron himself making our little snake a great deal more concerned about everything the future holds and willing to perhaps do a little double-agent action provided there's some guarantees in place for his future safety. Eomer hates skullduggery but, when dealing with Grima one must learn to speak in the language Grima understands best: blackmail, manipulation, and Politicks.

Alternate universe - but I wouldn't call this a redemption fic since Grima doesn't really go through ringer on that. ---- Obligatory Excerpt: 

‘Well?’ Éomer sighs, tired of this prompt. ‘Shall we talk? I presume you have completed whatever spellcraft remained to undertake this morning.’

‘I have,’ Gríma agrees. ‘Certain things need to be buried.’

‘The heart?’

‘Always the heart, and a few other items you need not worry about. As for our conversation, I’d relish tea and some food before we discuss.’

Éomer scowls, ‘Nay, Gríma, you will not continue to put me off. That is not a luxury owed you. Speak plain and speak now.’

Gríma rubs his hand over his face, and truly he looks tired. He appears hounded. He seems a man who needs a rest from it all.

‘Isildur’s bane,’ Gríma slowly begins. ‘It is about Isildur’s bane. The ring of Sauron, to be precise.’

‘What of it? It was destroyed, right?’ This is not where Éomer expected Gríma to go. He had been waiting for a half-admission to working for the White Wizard and some cajoling, begging, pleading to be taken back into the House of Eorl’s good graces. Likely in exchange for whatever he knows of Saruman’s plans. Rings of power? That never figured.

‘So everyone thought,’ Gríma says. ‘But it wasn’t. It was taken by Isildur and then lost. Apparently, though, it has been found. Remember when Lord Boromir came through our land? Well, he brought with him a riddle and part of the answer to the riddle is Sauron’s ring.’

Éomer shakes his head as the water boils, he takes the pot off and sets it on coals to simmer until fragrant. ‘I fail to see how this relates to Saruman.’

Gríma smiles, moribund. ‘And we come, now, to the offer.’

We are at the end of Part I of What Makes a King, or, Eomer and Grima’s Great and Wonderful Journey of Self Discovery and Casual Regicide (Even Though One of Them Never Asked for This to Happen)

I hope you all have enjoyed it thus far! I shall now go and burry myself in a hobbit hole to work on Part II of What Makes a King, or, This Time Eowyn Also Gets to Be Very Normal About People 

[fellowshipofthefics]

WELCOME TO #FOTFICTEMBER! 

September's challenge is centered around autumn-themed drabbles! Make them spooky, cozy, or anything in between! We want to see everyone inspired, but not bogged down by this event.

So remember, you don’t have to spend a lot of time on these (unless you want to!) nor are you required to do them in order or complete each day. Pick and choose, just write! We want to see it. There is no right or wrong about these, just have fun with it!

Be sure to tag #fotfics and #fotfictember so we can find your drabbles!

Happy writing! 🍂🎃

Written version under the cut!

FOTFictember - Daily Drabble Prompts

Scarecrow

Leaf Garland

Mushrooms

Festival

Corn Maze

Cuddling

Sweet Treats

Cold Hands

Pie

Bonfire Night

Rainstorms

Apple Cider

Sweater Weather

Library

Soft

Twilight

Baking

Tea

Pumpkins

Colors

Acorns

Amber

Cobwebs

Forest

Tradition

Soup

Lantern

Cinnamon

Sunflower

Author's Choice

[enchantzz]

Fall in Ered Luin 🎃

Summary: Family Fluff - Thorin spends the day with his young nephews Fili and Kili. Thorin thinks that after a couple of successful times, he has babysitting under control, but does he, really?

Inspired by, but not specifically for @fellowshipofthefics fotfictember I just finally have vacation and my muse showed up 💜

For more stories, visit the masterlist

Sunrays were illuminating the damp, mossy grounds of the Ered Luin woods, which were covered in an array of pretty red, yellow and brown colored leaves. The air was filled with the scent of Fall. Thorin took a deep, soothing breath and closed his eyes, the sunrays warming his face. For a moment, Kili and Fili’s chatter and laughter softened and a smile played on his lips. He was content. No, he was happy. A welcome change to the feelings of sadness which usually haunted him.

He opened his eyes again and looked at the boys scouring the ground for acorns, twigs and leaves and their little treasures, aka rocks.

Thorin had offered to take Fili and Kili for a walk in the woods, while Dis, his beloved sister, would get supplies from the market for a nice dinner and a pumpkin pie. 

Usually, when they went into the woods, the boys, especially Kili, wanted to bring home all kinds of things, including animals, but Thorin could proudly say that so far, he had managed to get home without much more than pretty rocks and pebbles and the occasional stick. 

Today, however, he had told them that they could bring anything home with them, so that they could make a nice Fall project from what they would find. Both Fili and Kili had brought their tiny rucksacks to carry their precious collection back home.

“Put the bunny down, Kili,” Thorin bellowed, when he saw Kili trying to stuff the animal into his rucksack. 

“But Uncle! “ Kili protested, “You said we could take anything!” 

With a sigh, Thorin crouched down beside his nephew and petted the bunny, before taking it and releasing it. Kili’s chin wobbled and tears sprang to his eyes. 

Thorin gently stroked the little pebble’s head and explained, “You can take any leaves, acorns, flowers and things like that, Kili. You just can’t take home any animals, ok? They belong here, in the woods” He smiled at Kili, pulled out an acorn from his pocket, which he had picked up earlier and Kili’s eyes lit up. Sorrows all forgotten, he sprang up and ran towards his brother to show him the gift.

Fili was crouched down, curiously studying some pretty colored mushrooms. “Uncle Thorin!”, he yelled, “come look”. He proudly pointed at his find. “Aren’t they pretty!” he exclaimed and Thorin had to admit that the big red mushrooms with white spots were a pretty sight on the green, mossy forest bed. He just loved the Fall and its colors and scents. 

After having roamed around a while and the pebbles having collected their treasures, they walked back home, where Dis was already unpacking the goodies she got from the market.

“Can we help make the pie?” Fili asked, having climbed up on a chair to look at the supplies sprawled out on the kitchen table. 

“I’m not sure that’s …” Dis started, but Thorin stepped in and offered to make the pie with the boys, so that she could rest a bit. Dis hesitated for a moment, but having some time to herself sounded wonderful. 

“I got this and the boys,” Thorin reassured her and gently ushered her out of the kitchen. 

“All right then.” Dis smiled and left them to it.

“So boys, what do we need?” Thorin asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“Forks!” Kili shouted.

“No, dumbass,” Fili laughed. “We first need to make the pie before we can eat it. We need the recipe, Uncle Thorin,” he said and climbed off the chair to grab the book from a side table, which was filled with cookbooks and notebooks with secret recipes by Dis. He had helped his mother in the kitchen many times before and he knew exactly which book had the recipe for the pumpkin pie.

For the next hour or so, Thorin and the boys managed to put the ingredients together and the pie was finally in the oven. When Dis entered the kitchen, she found Thorin, Fili and Kili and the entire kitchen, covered in flour and remnants of ingredients. Thorin looked a little guilty and the boys, well, they just looked proud. She couldn’t help but giggle. “Need a hand, my dear brother?” she asked. 

Thorin sighed gratefully and a while later, the kitchen, as well as Thorin, Fili and Kili, were spotless again. 

“Why don’t you go rest a bit near the fire?” she told Thorin. 

“Can we have a story, please, Uncle Thorin?” the boys pleaded, tucking on his shirt.

“Alright, alright,” Thorin agreed and swooped the boys up into his arms and onto his shoulder. With the boys dangling from his broad shoulders, giggling and squealing, he retreated from the kitchen, leaving Dis with a smile on her lips. She loved the boys so much and her brother wasn’t too bad either. 

When Dis entered the living area a while later with a tray laden with hot chocolate and pumpkin pie, she found the boys lying on their tummies on the soft rug in front of the fire, glued to Thorin’s lips, who was telling them a scary story. They ooh-ed and aaah-ed and were completely engrossed in the story.  When they saw her with the goodies, however, they sprang up and took the pie and hot chocolate, only to sit down again and beg Thorin to continue the story.

When their bellies were full and the story finished, the boys were visibly tired and yawned. They curled up beside Uncle Thorin, who had a hard time keeping his eyes open himself. 

“I should change my profession to babysitter. I’m good at it.” he whispered, proudly. He smiled and gently pressed a kiss on Kili and Fili’s heads. 

“I guess you are,” Dis humored him, holding back comments about the state of the kitchen and the boys earlier. They love you, my dear brother, as do I. Days like these are my favorite, especially in the Fall and I’ll make sure they stay in my memory forever.

“Likewise , my dear sister,’ Thorin agreed. “Family time is the best.” and with those words, Thorin dozed off, holding his beloved nephews Fili and Kili close.

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[errruvande]

Trying to write something cute for the fotfictember 🥹

My writing skills went down the road a bit for the lack of practice this past... year? I literally can't remember when was the last time I wrote something, not even saying uploaded something here so I'm a bit rusty lmao

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 2

We go on with the Bagginshield chapter :D Bilbo and Thorin try to get the corn maze ready in time!

<- Chapter 1

Prompts: scarecrow, sunflower, cobwebs, tradition, acorns, leaf garland

Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin

Words: 1095

Warnings:tension, conflict, wild kissing, inappropriate behaviour

“Get a move on,” Bilbo barked, waving his hands in the air in a desperate display of flustered impatience.

His hands locked around the scrawny neck of the scarecrow he was presently trying to prop up against a haystack, Thorin glowered at his committee colleague. “I’m going as fast as I can—if you hadn’t wasted most of the day baking, we could already be done.”

Ducking his head, Bilbo grumbled and went back to tucking sunflowers and acorns into the walls of the small corn maze they’d hastily thrown up in a bid to delay and entertain the youngsters who’d soon travel through the dense forest in small, chattering groups to attend the massive bonfire at the heart of the woods.

He’d been afraid that Thorin would find the idea silly, but—when he’d grown tired of waiting for the other and had set out on his own—he’d found the taciturn, enigmatic beauty lugging around hay bales dutifully, to his utter surprise.

“Oh, the boys will love that,” Thorin had hooted when asked why he’d been on board with the corn maze right away.

“I hope they have a better sense of orientation than you,” Bilbo had teased, seduced into carelessness by his companion’s rare fit of cheeriness.

“Sometimes,” Thorin had purred, leaning over Bilbo under the pretence of fiddling with the garland of golden autumn leaves he’d hung above the entrance of their humble labyrinth, “one wants to get lost. Why don’t you help me spread these cobwebs about?”

At once, Bilbo could feel his cheeks heat up with a treacherous flush—he knew that, in these parts, the autumn festival with its corn maze and bonfire was a well-established tradition. However, despite having settled in Lonely Mountain years ago, he was still not entirely sure that he’d understood and internalised all the intricacies.

A quick scan of their hard work told him that they were ready for the first people, tired of greasy food and the pitiful rollercoaster in the main square, to arrive. There truly was no reason to deny Thorin, and so he took the hand that was offered to him readily.

The heat of Thorin’s broad, calloused palm was so distracting that Bilbo lost his own sense of orientation only a few steps in—it was mortifying to accept, but he had no idea where they were even though he’d been involved in every step of the planning and erecting of the damned course.

Unfortunately, for all his well-meant ribbing, Bilbo had apparently not been wrong in his assessment of Thorin’s lack of sense of direction for they soon found themselves at a literal impasse.

“Wonderful,” Thorin mumbled and started pulling apart his fake cobwebs to drape them over the dry hay. “We shall have to remove them meticulously after—they’re a danger to wildlife,” he commented while patting down the wisps conscientiously.

“Indeed,” Bilbo croaked, fiercely aware of the proximity of one he’d called a rival as often as a friend; he and Thorin regularly went toe-to-toe in fiery debates about what was best for their town, but—underneath all the bluster—Bilbo was exceedingly fond of the old grump.

In his youth, he was sure, Thorin must have been a gloriously gorgeous man. Even now, with silver streaks adorning his thick, dark hair and discreet wrinkles bracketing his thin-lipped, stern mouth, he was quite a sight to behold.

Neither one of them had ever been married or fathered children, and Bilbo had often wondered whether they had the same, never-addressed reason for foregoing so precious an experience.

Of course, they had nephews and friends they doted on, but that glaring omission nevertheless set tongue a-wagging in the county.

“What about that? Is that to your satisfaction?” Thorin asked, interrupting Bilbo’s frantic musings unceremoniously. “Do you like it?”

“Is it meant to be spooky?” Bilbo countered with a question of his own; he only now fully processed the abundance of skeletons, scarecrows, and cobwebs Thorin had scattered throughout the maze and forest.

“Not necessarily,” Thorin replied with a shrug. “It should be festive and jolly.”

Plucking a wilting sunflower from a crevice, he turned around and tucked it behind Bilbo’s ear. “I’m sure your contributions balance out my own, and even the most fretful of youngsters will not be overly distressed when they have to make their way through our little trap to get to the bonfire.”

“I wouldn’t want to mess with your traditions, you know,” Bilbo said, his voice dropping dangerously when Thorin’s hand was not retracted but hovered close enough to his sensitive ear that he could feel its warmth.

“Do you want to know about another of these ‘traditions’ then?” Thorin teased, letting his thumb ghost along the curve of Bilbo’s burning cheek.

The other nodded jerkily, thus accidentally pressing his face into that elusive palm.

“When you take the wrong turn and find yourself at a dead end with someone nice, you might be tempted to linger a little,” Thorin informed him haltingly.

“Is that why we made this so convoluted despite the small size of the maze? So people could make out in the nooks and crannies?” Bilbo cried, utterly scandalised by such devious intent.

“Partially, yes,” Thorin laughed, and pressed his hands against the hay bale behind Bilbo, effectively bracketing his head and caging him between his muscular arms. “Is that so distasteful an idea to you?”

“Thorin!” Bilbo squeaked, his heart thumping loudly and his palms growing moist with anticipation. “The kids will arrive any moment.”

“Na,” Thorin contradicted. “They’ll first thoroughly enjoy the rollercoaster. Unfortunately, it’s also tradition that it takes Balin and Dwalin much too long to get the fire going, so if the youths arrive too early, they’ll sit around cold and hungry. We have time.”

“In that case,” Bilbo purred, arching his back and bringing his face closer to the bearded jaw before him as if to test the waters, “we might as well make sure that our maze will not collapse if some ill-advised snogging was to take place. It’s our duty, so to say.”

“I agree,” Thorin grinned and lowered himself gradually until he could finally press a soft kiss of long abiding and instant recognition onto Bilbo’s parted lips.

No doubt, the others were wondering what kept them so long, but they could always claim to have lost their way.

A small, pudgy hand curled around the back of his neck—all smart plans and subterfuges melted out of Thorin’s mind at once.

This, he decided, was indeed a good, honourable tradition.

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the second chapter of my fic for September!

Lots of love from me! <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Apple picking

This one was just the first thing that came to mind...

Characters: Thorin, Kíli, Fíli

Words: 131

Warnings: Slight sadness

“What about this one, Uncle Thorin?” Kíli was positively beaming with pride.

Just as he was about to look down, Thorin remembered something his sister had said and bent his stiff knees to be on eye level with his youngest nephew.

“That is indeed a wonderful apple,” he praised and tucked the proffered fruit into his already overflowing basket dutifully.

Observing how Kíli was now rubbing his grimy fists against his soulful, all-seeing eyes, Thorin scooped him up lovingly before running after Fíli who was recklessly trying to climb the last tree of the orchard.

“None of that, young prince,” he laughed, plucking his sister-son like another apple from the low-hanging branch.

Remembering his own lost brother and his fondness for ripe apples, the uncrowned prince smiled bravely through the pain.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cuddles

Dear @jaz-the-bard, thank you so much for this lovely prompt. I hope you'll like this :D

Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond, Elros

Words: 209

Warnings: Sick kids, reference to crimes

Eyes bulging and heart beating fast, Maedhros stared at two pale faces; his own contorted into a mask of incomprehension and distress at the mewling sound of misery escaping those who had gone from mere hostages to something much more dangerous and much less simple to define.

“They are ill,” Maglor commented, his powerful voice trembling treacherously. “Aren’t they?”

Maedhros shrugged, only moving his good shoulder jerkily, and stepped closer to the makeshift cot they had cobbled together for the two half-elven children in their care.

Huge, feverish eyes met cold, grey ones—while holding his twin clasped in his bony embrace, Elrond was visibly struggling to make sense of the contradiction of healthy apprehension and needy despair.

After a breathless moment of inner debate on all accounts, the boy lifted his arms pleadingly.

It had been centuries since those two murderers had held trembling younglings in their intrepid arms, but—in the face of such barefaced, humble need—they did not hesitate.

“Time to recall your lullabies, Káno,” Maedhros chuckled under his breath and swept the sweat-moist hair from a heated brow tenderly.

For all the callous, terrible mistakes they had undoubtedly committed, they were sure now that wrapping their guilty flesh protectively around undisputed innocence was right.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Pie

Another all-time favourites!!!! Have some happy Halenthir...

Characters: Haleth x Caranthir

Words: 238

Warnings: Worries and pie...nothing

Haleth was beaming with joy—every line of her face was aglow with her barely contained excitement.

“Happy Harvest Day, Lord Caranthir,” she chirruped.

Upon hearing the uncommonly joyous inflexion of her usually so stern voice, Caranthir flinched almost imperceptibly; indeed, he felt considerably overwhelmed and rattled by her demeanour and knew not how to react.

Extending her scarred, tanned arms, she presented an ugly pie to him from which a delicious aroma of ripe fruit and delicious spices rose in whips of steam.

“Fresh from the oven,” she explained. “The children have helped as well; it was a matter of honour to them. For reasons I cannot fully fathom, they are very fond of you!”

Exchanging a panicked glance with one of his officers, Caranthir waved a stiff hand—surely, the man would find something valuable to offer the colony of Men in return for their exceptional generosity.

“I thank you,” he then said carefully. “Would you like to share this unlooked-for treat with me? I shall send for a bottle of wine, and we can discuss the matter of the blocked stream.”

“Nonsense,” she laughed and slapped his silk-clad arm playfully. “Today is one of the last sunny days before the season of bleak desolation, why don’t we sit outside and just…enjoy ourselves?”

Despite a thousand grievances and worries on his mind, he inclined his head and slowly returned her radiant smile. “Lead the way, Milady.”

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boots

Ahhhh, @lycheesodas (amazing artist and lovely writer) is good enough to let me try my hand at their beloved again <3

Yes, I am still thinking about that art, so this turned out a bit naughty!

Characters: Beleg, Mablung

Words: 144

Warnings: Nudity, sexual innuendo

The first time Mablung had seen the boots, he had instantly hated them.

He had never glimpsed anything as loud as those abominations that would unfailingly give away Beleg’s position to even the blindest and dumbest of foes.

Nevertheless, as time went by, he grew accustomed to their unique ugliness and even came to develop a reluctant fondness for them, because they gave his beloved such joy.

Now, as he walked in on a completely undressed Beleg—wearing nought but those eyesores—he gave a guttural, visceral groan.

“My love,” he said calmly, “hitherto, I have refrained from this, but you leave me no choice—the boots have got to go!”

“Forever?” Beleg’s huge, pleading eyes made Mablung’s heart swell at the same time as other parts of his anatomy.

“For now…” he replied feebly and fell into the most welcoming embrace in Arda.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Soup

Ah, I have humour! Soup...Éowyn cooks...

Characters: Faramir x Éowyn

Words: 256

Warnings: Soup

Faramir looked down at the bowl between his palms with benevolent curiosity.

“I…” His newly-minted wife frowned and quickly snatched up the spoon—poised and ready—he had picked up. “Let me try first—I’ve not been very successful in my previous attempts to prepare a palatable soup.”

Relinquishing the utensil with a soft chuckle, Faramir cocked his head.

“We were all in the middle of a war,” he reminded her gently, “and you’ve not been raised to be a scullery maid.”

“I’d rather not poison my husband’s body or heart,” she replied bitterly. Taking a deep breath, she dipped the edge of the spoon into the thick stew and brought it to her tense lips.

“Woman,” Faramir teased. “What happened to fulfilling your wifely duty by feeding me? I do very much yearn to try your soup!”

Letting the pink tip of her tongue dart out, Éowyn made a pensive face before nodding slowly.

“It is all right,” she declared. “Keep in mind that my land, my people, and my tastes might seem rustic and simple to so accomplished a man as you.”

Ladling a full spoon of piping hot liquid into his mouth, Faramir hummed happily.

Once his mouth was empty again, he grinned encouragingly at his beloved.

“Your person, your skills, and your cooking are a humble captain’s delight, this I vow solemnly,” he promised. “I hope the pot is still on the fire, for I doubt that this ridiculously small bowl your brother has sent will be enough to sate my hunger.”

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember24 - Chapter 1

After a long absence, Kyra returns to the town of Lonely Mountain just in time for the autumn fair. Her "uncle" Bilbo is very secretive about it all, and she's excited to see what the night will bring.

My dears, you didn't think I'd skip the FOTFICS challenge, did you? As writing has been kind of hard lately, I've decided to indulge myself :D

Prompts: Library, festival, baking, tea, pie, autumn fair

Pairing: Ori x OC, OC & Bilbo, Kíli x Tauriel

Words: 1110

Warnings:Nothing

“I can smell that you’re baking,” Kyra laughed as she popped her head into the kitchen, making Bilbo nearly jump out of his skin.

“I thought you were gone already,” the one she called Uncle without being related to him in any discernible way huffed, trying to hide the glorious pie he’d just pulled out of the oven without much success. “The boys are already roaming about.”

Glancing at her watch, she made a face. Kyra, despite her best efforts, was notoriously scatterbrained and couldn’t, for the life of her, be on time.

“Do you have much work yet?” she asked, mindful not to encroach on Bilbo’s realm of flour and sugar.

“It’s manageable,” he replied diplomatically. “Once Thorin arrives, we’ll get more done!”

That assessment drew a more genuine grin from the young woman; it was common knowledge that, despite their exaggerated fights about minor details, Bilbo and Thorin loved spending time together.

Indeed, the younger generation had made long-standing bets on the exact moment the two curmudgeons would realise that they were actually in love with one another, but thus far, nobody had been able to claim the considerable pot.

“It’s been too long since I’ve gone to the fall fair,” Kyra sighed, fond memories of the golden autumns she’d once spent in her uncle’s care coming alive within her heart.

“You were busy,” Bilbo said soothingly. “That is not to say that we didn’t miss you—I’m sure we did, and your return to the fold is one of the reasons I’d politely beg you to remove yourself now. I have to get a move on—this festival has to be one of the best yet. In your honour.”

As if it had been convened thus, there was a resoundingly enthusiastic knock on the front door at that very moment.

“There they are—let’s hope they brought Thorin along,” Bilbo mumbled, wiping his hand on a towel he’d tucked into his belt. “No peeking, come away!” he added out of habit.

He knew Kyra so well that he didn’t have to look at her to know that she’d be sorely tempted to open every cupboard and drawer in search of the treats and surprises he’d been concocting in secret for the big finale of the fall fair.

“Oi, we were waiting for you,” Fíli exclaimed through the opening door. “What kept you so long?”

To Bilbo’s dismay, the boys’ tall, handsome uncle and shepherd was nowhere to be seen.

Grimacing in embarrassment, Kyra shrugged sheepishly. “I’m ready now,” she said hastily, pressed a quick kiss onto Bilbo’s heated cheek, and slipped out of the door.

“They’re just in a hurry because they want to corner Ori before he can slink home,” Tauriel informed her under her breath as they walked down the sleepy town’s beautifully decorated main street.

“Ori,” Kyra repeated pensively. She’d spent many a summer at Bilbo’s house, but then studies, first jobs, and unhappy relationships had kept her from visiting more than a few days here and there for entirely too long a time.

“Pretty ginger fellow,” Tauriel, who’d moved here to be closer to her boyfriend, confided with a wink. “He works at the library. As far as I can tell, he’s always been here, so I think you should know him.”

Vague recollections of a skinny boy with soft eyes came to Kyra’s mind, and—when her heartbeat accelerated—she reminded herself not to put the cart before the horse.

“Ah, I see you do remember,” Tauriel grinned.

Kyra blushed furiously—she was unused to having female friends who caught on to the minutest shifts in her demeanour and facial expressions. Men, she found, were much easier to deceive in those matters.

As they walked on in companionable silence, Kyra realised something else. “Are we abducting that man? If he wanted to come with us, wouldn’t he just join us of his own free will?”

Again, Tauriel merely smiled at her enigmatically. “He doesn’t know what’s good for him,” she said cheerily before adding in a whisper that she suspected that Ori was nervous because there would be another woman attending.

“Oh, but I don’t want to ruin his fun,” Kyra cried out, feeling wretched.

“Not at all,” Tauriel smiled. “In the name of friendship, I’m going to admit that we’re all hoping that he might come out of his shell a little bit…he does remember you, you know?”

Before Kyra could protest or flee, she was bodily shoved through the heavy double doors leading into the cool, calm interior of the deserted library.

Not a main attraction on the best of days, the building was entirely empty now as everybody was milling around outside to help or hinder the preparations for the main event, scheduled throughout the whole upcoming evening.

“Ori? Come on, mate! They have a rollercoaster on the square!” Kíli hollered, making his companions flinch as his voice echoed shockingly.

“No screaming in the library,” came a calm but determined reprimand from a dark corridor, and—a moment later—a vision of copper and gold stepped out of the shadows, holding a dainty porcelain teacup in his pale, long-fingered hands. “I brewed a new pot—care to join me?”

“No,” Kíli expostulated. “Blast your tea! Didn’t you hear what I said? There’s a rollercoaster, and Uncle made us promise that we’d come to the forest as soon as possible. He and Bilbo have apparently outdone themselves!”

Visibly undecided, Ori shifted from one foot to the other.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Kyra whispered tenderly as she took in the nigh-ephemeral apparition before her—years ago, Ori had been her favourite among the ever-changing throng of the “friends of friends” she’d met during her stays at Bilbo’s.

Sweet-natured and soft-spoken, he’d promised to grow into a great beauty, and Kyra was delighted to learn that her instinctive assessment had been absolutely correct.

Now a man grown, Ori was gorgeous, and she willed her heart to quieten and her mind to keep working lest she say something silly.

“Kyra is back, and we want to show her a good time, so she won’t desert us for so long ever again,” Fíli added insidiously, apparently knowing exactly how to pressure his friend into complying with their wishes.

“Why would…I’m not sure that I make things better,” Ori muttered softly.

“Do you want her to go on the rollercoaster alone? Where’s your chivalry, man?” Kíli exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock disbelief.

With a shivering sigh, Ori set down his teacup on the counter of the library and nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll lock up and get ready. I’ll meet you by the food stalls.”

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the first chapter of my fic for September!

Lots of love from me! <3

-> Chapter 2

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hand holding

Eh...no explanation for that one!

Characters: Caranthir x OC

Words: 110

Warnings: Fëanor is being annoying?

As her fingertips trailed the delicate bones, encased in perfectly pale flesh, of Caranthir’s fingers, she quickly hid the smile of private pleasure by coyly averting her flushed face.

Every scar and needle prick told a different story—they were tales of reckless daring and meticulous skill, and she, akin to a blind person, read them avidly through nought more than the feather-light caress against living vellum.

While her father-in-law lectured, impassionate, she lost herself in the secret account of her husband’s secrets and most cherished memories.

Tightening his nimble, strong fingers around her sensitive palm in turn, Caranthir hummed softly, letting her know that he welcomed her discreet exploration.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with another one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3