#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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[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 

[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.

divider and header created by me

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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

[sotwk]

I mean, I absolutely cannot afford to hatch any more new plot ideas, [Like, I'm serious. The Writers Mafia is gonna come for my knee caps unless I deliver on some completed fics soon.] but these prompts are sparking a lot of excitement, so I hope they can at least provide inspiration to help me deliver on my long list of Requests/Asks.

We all unanimously love Fall/Autumn, so let's use that to BRING SOME JOY!!! (Before the next season hits. Winter is coming... LOL.)

WELCOME TO #FOTFICTEMBER! 

September's challenge is centered around fall-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 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! 🍂🎃

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 3

A roller-coaster ride, a mushy hotdog, and a surprise in a maze...

@mysandwichranaway is working on some art for this fic! Stay tuned!

Prompts: Twilight, corn maze, lantern, mushrooms, sweater weather, amber

Pairing: Ori x OC, Bilbo x Thorin, Fíli x OC, Kíli x Tauriel

Words: 1555

Warnings:Some indecent kissing, some general anxiety, Thorin is an ass

Ori had half-expected that it had all just been a bad joke.

Yet, when he reached the small group standing, as promised, by the food carts to grab a tiny bite to eat, his own hotdog almost got stuck in his throat as Fíli waved a bunch of shiny, colourful tokens in his face.

“I’ve taken the liberty of buying the first round,” he declared and handed Ori one of the plastic coins.

The rollercoaster itself was a miserable, rickety affair that might not have stood a chance in hell to be ridden in a more elaborate setting.

As it was this small fair’s only attraction, though, the queue seemed to be endless.

Catching a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-haired girl he’d been begging to go out with him a few rows ahead of them, Fíli excused himself hastily and started pushing through the throng of people ruthlessly.

“Ah! Well…” Kyra mumbled.

“He really did mean it when he said that he wanted to show you a good time,” Kíli assured her. “He might just not do it himself.”

Sucking her teeth, Tauriel reached over to take the young woman’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly. “I’ve got you, girl. You can ride with me—I want to see how they jam their fat asses onto the tiny bench.”

“Ey…I thought we were going to make out throughout the whole ride?” Kíli protested, spearing Ori with that steely look he’d inherited from his mother.

“Yes, erm, yes,” Ori waffled, aghast to realise that he’d forgotten all his words when he needed them most. “If that would be agreeable, I’d be honoured to ride with you, of course.”

When she turned to him, black eyes sparkling with mirth, he swallowed heavily. Kyra had always been so disarmingly beautiful, and he’d never found the courage to tell her.

Year after year, summer after summer, he’d sworn to his friends and himself that, next time, he’d ask her to go to the local ice cream parlour or walk the maze with him, but he never had.

And then, she’d stopped coming.

It had taken him months to work up the courage to ask Bilbo about it, and the answer had been less than heartening, so he’d let it be.

As he now shuffled onto the uncomfortably hard bench of the creaking wagon beside her, he could hardly believe that she’d returned at long last.

“I don’t think you remember me,” he started quietly, interrupted by the screeching of the brakes being loosened and the lurching start of the ride.

“Nonsense,” Kyra chuckled. “It took me a mere second to place the name. You’ve grown up well, I must say.”

“How do you mean?” Ori asked, horrified to hear that his voice was not unlike the squeaking of the worn rails beneath them.

“Forget it,” she grinned and turned her pale, radiant face into the fading light as they started the jerky ascent to the laughably low apex of the woefully short track.

Ahead of them, Kíli and Tauriel were cheering and laughing as they sped downhill, exchanging messy kisses in between exaggerated hoots.

“Hold on tight; this might be a bumpy ride,” Ori warned.

When she gave him a slightly panicked look, he slung his arm around her body and pulled her closer against his own. “Hold on,” he repeated.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that, instead of grabbing the ramshackle handlebar, she’d throw her arms around his torso and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

As much as he’d not wanted to go on the ride in the first place, Ori now desperately wished that their shabby wagon would never stop grinding along the rails.

Kyra was soft and warm against him, and the smell of her perfume made him feel as if he’d grow wings himself to fly into the darkening evening sky never to come down again.

Twilight was upon them, and lights flared up across the landscape like mysterious mushrooms—it would soon be time to set out for the bonfire.

Despite his better knowledge, Ori wondered whether Kyra would let him hold her again even after they’d left this hellish contraption.

“You exaggerate,” Ori heard Fíli say. Only then did he notice that they’d stopped.

The grumpy teen operating the ride looked at them with bored impatience and evident incredulity.

“Come on out, Uncle will kill us if we’re not there to canoodle in his maze,” Fíli added, holding the hand of the fair maiden he’d so indefatigably wooed proudly.

“Bombur is cooking,” Tauriel interjected. “Save your money and your gut health! Don’t waste either on more of the trash they’re selling here!”

“Oh, I know,” Kyra laughed breathily. “Bilbo has been baking for days—I’m looking forward to sampling his creations.”

Thus, they set out towards the forest, only to come up short at the entrance of a corn maze.

“We’ve lost the organisers in action,” Bofur informed them with a wink. “Take a lantern and go on your merry way! Two by two, please. Otherwise, it’s no fun.”

This time, there was no question about how they’d split up.

As soon as they were off, though, Ori couldn’t help but notice that Kyra was rubbing her arms while walking rather fast.

“The weather’s turned, huh?” he said sheepishly.

“Sweater weather,” she agreed, her full lips somewhat pale.

As pretty as her sundress was, it did little to keep the biting chill in the air at bay. Thankfully, Ori’s brothers insisted on him being wrapped up like an egg about to hatch at all times, so he shrugged out of his jacket to take off his thick, woollen pullover.

“Take this—we don’t want you to catch your death out here. It will be warmer by the fire,” he said hastily, afraid that he was crossing a line.

He should not have worried for Kyra took the garment gratefully and slipped into it at once—she looked painfully adorable as she was nearly swallowed by the oversized item hanging from her curvaceous frame.

“You’re a true gentleman,” she praised with a small, soft smile, and took his hand to pull him on.

The lanterns they’d been given were detestably dim and weak to avoid and prevent any potential fire hazard, so it was slow going.

More than once, they found themselves turned around and cornered, but—chatting amiably about old times—they didn’t mind retracing their steps and losing their time at all.

Suddenly, a strange noise made Ori still, trying to push Kyra behind him as he lifted their sorry excuse of a light source higher.

“Your eyes are liquid amber,” she gasped, evidently unfazed by the odd smacking sound coming from a corner plunged in deep shadows. “You’re so handsome!”

“My…what? Who goes there?” he called, feeling fiercely protective of the cheery woman for whom he held himself responsible until he could return her to her uncle’s care. He’d heard enough horror stories about the terrible things that could befall sweet creatures such as her in dark, secluded corners.

He’d not let anything happen to her, he vowed, desperately trying to push aside her last comment lest it distract him fatally from the situation at hand.

A moment later, the very uncle he’d been thinking of appeared, dishevelled and flushed.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Kyra gasped. “What has happened to you? Are you quite all right? You look a little…put out.”

“All is well,” Bilbo assured them. “Are you enjoying the maze?”

To make matters even more confusing, he was joined by Thorin—looking just as red-faced and unkempt—a second later.

“We were just checking…if everything was safe.”

“And is it?” Kyra asked in a strained voice before she burst into laughter. “I truly believed that the canoodling part Fíli mentioned was but a figure of speech, but…who am I to doubt the validity of your beliefs?”

Without further ado, she whirled around and planted a resounding kiss onto Ori’s half-open mouth.

“Whatever Gods or spirits you pray to tonight, I hope that they’ll hear my earnest wishes as well. Did I do this right?” she crowed in boundless hilarity.

Rubbing his forehead in embarrassed exasperation, Bilbo gave a long sigh. “You wild, headstrong child!” he chided. “What did you think these cul-de-sacs were for?”

“We have no time to lose,” Kyra replied with a shrug. “Our friends are waiting, and I’m starting to feel quite peckish.”

Ori, meanwhile, merely stood there—thunderstruck and silent—like an oaf. She’d simply kissed him, square on the lips, as if there was nothing to it, and he couldn’t wait to see if she’d do it again.

Bonfires were romantic, right? They could huddle for warmth on a nice log, and he could put his arm around her.

Emboldened and set aflame by her enthusiasm and generosity, he graciously agreed not to tell anyone about what they’d witnessed, and they went on their merry way once more.

“Shame,” Ori heard Bilbo say. “I’ve heard there was quite a lump sum in their betting pool.”

“I know,” Thorin chortled. “I say we take the pot and go on a nice holiday together.”

“What day did you choose?” Bilbo asked tersely.

“Tonight. And you?”

“Tomorrow!”

They both laughed heartily, the sound following the two youngsters until Ori finally glimpsed the exit ahead.

↳ Masterlist

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

Lots of love from me! <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]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 5

Kyra goes camping. Bilbo has a hot shower. Everyone eats entirely too much sugar :D

Prompts: cuddling, soft, cinnamon, cold hands, rainstorms, sweet treats

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

Words: 1495

Warnings: sexual innuendo

As soon as he was gone, Tauriel stopped at the edge of the bonfire.

The dancing flames filled her rich, red hair with reflections of dying embers, and Kyra was mesmerised enough by the sight not to question the sudden interruption of their plans.

“So, what did we miss?” the elfin beauty then asked, turning back to face Kyra, her bright eyes piercing and her soft mouth curled into a knowing smile. “Did you kiss Ori in the maze?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Kyra admitted. “I was made to understand that it was some kind of tradition. Maybe, I’ll have good luck from now on.”

“If you want that, yeah,” Tauriel sighed, playing with a strand of her hair absent-mindedly. “Listen, we don’t know each other as well as you might know my boyfriend and his brother, but I’d like to think that we’ve become friends since you arrived here this year, no?”

“Sure,” Kyra agreed. She couldn’t fathom what the other woman was getting at, and it started to make her nervous. “What’s up?”

“Ori…If I’ve understood the whole matter correctly, he’s had a major crush on you for years, so we decided to give him a little helpful nudge. Nevertheless, we don’t want to pressure you into something you wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

She now looked exceedingly uncomfortable and guilty.

“Do you deem him dangerous? If I were to reject him?” Kyra asked candidly for she trusted Tauriel’s assessment. Since her return to these parts, she’d come to respect and cherish Kíli’s girlfriend as a level-headed, fierce young woman.

Moreover, Kyra was not in a position to callously refuse the offer of an earnest friendship when it came her way.

“Ori? Never,” the other guffawed. “But, spending the night perched up in a tiny tent is another matter entirely than kissing in a maze, and I wanted you to be advised.”

“He’s a darling, isn’t he?” Kyra sighed and dashed forward when she saw that the corner where the cakes and buns were kept was deserted for the moment.

“Oh yes, he absolutely is,” Tauriel agreed as they shovelled as many treats as they could onto chipped plates and melted into the deep, dark shadows of the nearby treeline. “He’s the best, and we all adore him. He’d never hurt you…”

With a wicked smile, she picked a glazed cookie out of the heap and took a nibble. “I also tell you this for another reason. If, and it’s a big ‘if’, you were even the slightest bit interested in dear Ori, you’ll have to go for it. He’s too honourable by far to risk discomfiting you when you’re stuck in the middle of the forest with him.”

“Makes sense,” Kyra mused. Inspired by her friend’s brazen theft, she chose a soft, plump cupcake and took a hearty bite from it. There was more than enough to share, she thought, and the others wouldn’t miss what they’d never seen.

Admiring Tauriel’s fluid, unerring movements, Kyra let herself be led far beyond the warming light of the bonfire into the heart of the woods.

Ahead, a dimmer, more unsteady gleam beckoned to them, and soon they’d reached the makeshift camp of three tents nestled between the massive roots of the surrounding trees.

“Ah, there you are, my love,” Kíli exclaimed and promptly pinched a juicy slice of berry-cake from the plate Tauriel was carrying. “We were about to send out a search and rescue team!”

Rolling her eyes, the tall redhead sank onto the nest of blankets they’d scattered on the floor and sighed contentedly.

For a while, they simply sat in silence, eating cake and enjoying the charming song of the nocturnal forest, but then, the weather turned again, and a slight drizzle started to fall.

“Could turn into a proper rainstorm,” Fíli declared resolutely and went to check every single tent twice. “We better retire for the night. Sleep well!”

Kyra had not even finished her apple cider when she was ushered into the tent along with the almost empty plate and…Ori.

“Do you need anything? Now is the time,” he informed her, squinting at the dark sky suspiciously.

“No, I’m fine. My hands are a bit sticky,” she replied sheepishly and twitched when he took them in his own as if to check.

“Your hands are cold! Let me get you a wet wipe,” he exclaimed and turned around slowly in the cramped space to rummage through his bag until he pulled out his hygiene kit with a sound of triumph. “We didn’t account for such weather, I’m afraid, so there’s no space heater,” he said apologetically.

The whole floor of the tent was littered with soft, fluffy blankets, and Kyra burrowed herself into them eagerly as the staccato of furious rain started to batter the paper-thin walls in earnest.

Meanwhile, Ori’s gaze flitted nervously through their tiny sanctuary as if searching for a corner into which he could simply disappear.

“Come here,” Kyra invited, desperate to feel his warmth again. “I know a trick for dispelling the cold.”

As soon as he’d joined her, laying down on his side to face her, she pulled one of the blankets over them, tucking it in around their bodies to create a bubble of shared body heat.

Tauriel’s words came back to her, and she lifted her gaze to his comely face in hopes of seeing any indication of that secret affection that had been insinuated.

“Do you…Are you warm enough?” Ori asked, worry tingeing his voice.

“In a moment,” she replied, willing her teeth not to chatter too loudly as she inched closer to him little by little.

“I could…” he mumbled, snaking his arm around her and rubbing her back in slow, firm circles. “How’s that?”

“Wonderful,” Kyra admitted truthfully and scooted closer still until she was pressed against his chest, breathing in his clean, wholesome smell greedily.

Nestled in his warmth, she smiled as she felt his lips brush against the crown of her head silently—this was all the encouragement she needed.

Thus, she tilted up her face to catch that furtive, tender kiss and deepen it.

“You taste like cinnamon,” she slurred against his mouth. “I somehow knew you would.”

“’s because I’m a ginger, huh?” he replied in the same muffled voice, unwilling to pull back and end the kiss.

“Brown sugar and cinnamon,” she purred. “Sweet and a bit spicy, yeah, that’s how I imagined you.”

Outside, the world was seemingly ending, but Kyra cared nought.

Her cold legs were intertwined with Ori’s strong thighs and sturdy calves, and she had buried her cold fingers in the fleece of another sweatshirt—he apparently had an endless supply of soft, warm fabrics at his disposal—and she started to wonder what it would feel like to peel these protective layers off him one by one.

She decided to find out anon.

Across the forest, Bilbo was dripping wet and laughing breathlessly as he raced towards his car, Thorin hard on his heels.

“A rainstorm!” Bilbo cried. “And I thought it was all going so well until now!”

“It was a success, don’t fret,” the other reassured him. “And I’m sure that Kyra is doing just fine wherever she is. Probably snuggled up in a warm tent, giggling into Ori’s foolish face!”

“Ah, you’d know about silly visages, wouldn’t you?” Bilbo grinned as he sped down the muddy forest path towards his quaint little cottage. “I’m too cold and wet to stay a moment longer than I must in this car,” he declared and turned up the heat to the maximum.

“So you’ll send me home on foot in this deluge?” Thorin exclaimed, feigning vexation.

“I didn’t say that, you oaf!” Bilbo laughed. “As the kids are all busy doing Yavanna knows what, I invite you to join me for a hot, restorative shower.”

This idea did much to brighten Thorin’s mood, and he even hummed a little tune as they pulled into Bilbo’s driveway.

“Just the shower?” he then asked when they kicked off their sopping wet shoes and shrugged out of their drenched clothes that clung disgustingly to their clammy skin. “Or…”

“I might have squirrelled away a few extra cakes and sweet treats in the pantry,” Bilbo informed him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “For the day after feast, but…”

“They’ve had quite enough sugar, I dare say!” Thorin declared haughtily, catching the other by the hips and pulling him into a passionate kiss that should have made any remaining moisture turn into steam within a single moment.

“Right you are,” Bilbo moaned. “We can eat them in bed, later. Now, we really need a hot shower. I can’t wait any longer to see you undressed. Come! After all, it’s a night for falling stars and magic.”

“Your wish is my command, dear colleague,” Thorin grinned. “As you know, I’d do anything for the success of the autumn fair.”

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last chapter of my fic for September! Thank you for celebrating autumn with me!

Lots of love from me! <3

[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

[vazzrock]

Fandom: The Silmarillion & Other Histories of Middle-Earth

Rating: M

Word Count: 7,611

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros & Maglor, Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros, Maedhros & Maglor (Tolkien)

Characters: Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel, Maglor (Tolkien), Maedhros (Tolkien), Ambarussa (mentioned), Eluréd and Elurín (mentioned), others sons of fëanor mentioned, Gil-Galad (Mentioned), others mentioned

Tags: Kidnap Family | Elrond & Elros & Maedhros & Maglor as Family (Tolkien), Post-Third Kinslaying | Sack of Sirion (Tolkien), an exploration of the rocky dynamic before they found family in one another, how do you come to terms with the kindness of those who slew your kin?, Elros POV, Young Elros Tar-Minyatur, Young Elrond Peredhel, Protective Elros Tar-Minyatur, both the peredhil need a big big hug, maedhros and maglor are utterly miserable, technically gil-galad doesn't ever show up but i got the title from his name, so that in and of itself gets him an honorary mention in the tags

Summary:

Elrond and his advisors prepare for the Mereth Echui, Imladris’ take on the most ancient festival of the Elves: a celebration of the awakening at Cuiviénen.

Written for @fellowshipofthefics’s FOTFictember Day 2 prompt: Lantern!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 4

Kyra gets to enjoy the bonfire...and makes plans for the night to come!

Prompts: Bonfire night, apple cider, soup, forest, pumpkins, colours

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

Words: 1245

Warnings: Alcohol

“You were made for this, huh?” Kyra chuckled as she turned on her heels before the massive fire, illuminating the clearing fitfully.

The shifting shadows painted ephemeral patterns on his face that thoroughly mesmerised her—in the opaque darkness, every colour of the festival seemed to be reflected in his beauty.

His skin was as pale and milky as the fake bones of the skeletons they’d just left behind, and his hair shimmered in all the rich hues of the decorative pumpkins and golden leaves.

“For what?” he asked dazedly.

“The forest, the night, the fire,” she replied dreamily. “I’m sorry for just kissing you like that, please forgive me.”

“Why did you?” he asked, not looking at her as he eyed the mugs of steaming mulled apple cider longingly instead. “Don’t worry, I don’t feel harassed or assaulted…merely…dare I say…surprised.”

“You were too pretty not to,” Kyra admitted. “What’s smelling so nice over there?”

“Apple cider,” he informed as a deep blush settled on his cheeks as if he’d downed several cups of the fragrant hot drink already. “Do you want any? I can get us some!”

His eagerness made her smile—she remembered that as well. From their very first meeting, he’d always been ready to help others and unerringly intent on making those around him comfortable and happy.

Even as a mere child, she’d appreciated that, and she was delighted to learn that even manhood hadn’t stripped him of his generous kindness.

“I’ll come with you,” she replied enthusiastically and followed him as he skirted the fire to get to the tiny table from which a steaming cauldron exuded its siren scent.

“I’ll have two mugs, please,” Ori ordered politely.

“By my beard, if it isn’t little Kyra,” Óin exclaimed loudly. “You haven’t been here for so long. How long was it exactly?”

Giving the elderly man a bright smile, Kyra winked. “I’m old enough for cider, don’t worry.”

Óin sniffed audibly. “If you’re old enough to go making eyes at young Ori here, you can certainly stomach a cup of this, yes. Don’t let Dori catch you, though.”

From the corner of her eye, Kyra saw Ori duck his head, conscience-stricken, which made her chuckle noiselessly. He truly was too precious for words.

“And see that you get some of that soup into you—it’s much too cold for you to be running around in a sweater and little more,” Óin went on severely. “Come to think of it, maybe you should seek out Dori after all.”

“Stop yapping their ears off,” another voice cut in. “You’re ruining my brother’s date.”

Nori slipped out of the shadows like a ghost, grinning from ear to ear. “Well met, brother mine. Mistress Kyra, how fare you on this fine night?”

As she’d been ever fond of his crooked smile and hearty manner, Kyra gave him a good-humoured thumbs-up.

“We’re going to see about that soup now,” she informed and pulled Ori away before he could get enmeshed in another curtain lecture.

Bonfire night, with its dancing colours and swirling aromas, was positively magical, and the thick, unctuous stew Bombur ladled into mismatched bowls the inhabitants of the town had provided for the night, made Kyra feel a twinge of regret as the thought of her imminent departure caressed her thoughts with cold fingers.

“I carved that one,” Ori said dreamily, pointing at a huge pumpkin standing beneath a nearby tree.

Almost dropping her spoon, Kyra stepped closer to admire his impeccable handiwork. “Man, you must be really nimble-fingered,” she teased, looking up at him from her crouching position with pure mischief in her eyes.

Ori looked as if he was about to swallow his own utensils, staring at her wide-eyed while his lips moved aimlessly without any sound emerging.

“There you are,” Kíli’s voice interrupted the awkward moment. “We started to believe that you’d already escaped to the nearest tent. You are camping here tonight, right?”

This was the first time Kyra heard of such a venture, and she cursed Bilbo silently. As she knew her uncle, he wouldn’t approve of her spending the night in the woods where he couldn’t protect her.

“I think so, yeah,” Ori replied softly behind her.

“I’m not sure,” Kyra started, unsure how to explain that it might be a bad idea for a woman to sleep alone in a strange forest after a night of carousing and alcohol. “Bilbo…”

As if summoned by her waffling, her uncle burst into the clearing at that exact moment, Thorin’s thick arm slung possessively around his hip.

“Bilbo looks to be in the right mood to be convinced,” Kíli exclaimed. “He adores me. How could he deny his beloved step-nephew anything?”

And without further ado, he bounded away.

“I’m well afraid you’ll be less safe at home, alone, than here,” Tauriel said as she watched her love tackle the two parental figures shamelessly. “We’ll all be here. You can bunk with us or…”

She left the rest of her sentence hanging in the air but kept looking encouragingly at Ori all the while.

“You’re very welcome to sleep in my tent, of course,” Ori said hastily, falling over his words in his eagerness to extend that gracious invitation. “There shall be enough blankets and pillows to keep the cold at bay, and nobody would dare bother you.”

“Because you’ll protect me?” Kyra asked playfully.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Ori nodded solemnly. “Also, you’re Bilbo’s girl, and he’s Thorin’s man, which means that anyone just looking at you askance will have to contend with them.”

“And by extension with us,” Tauriel added grimly. “And Dwalin. And Balin. And…the whole lot—you know how they are. Stay with us! We’ll nab some of those delicious buns Bilbo has made and eat them, surrounded by carved pumpkins as our only light source.”

“I’d love to,” Kyra admitted, unable to keep the bare yearning out of her voice.

“Come with me, girl,” Tauriel commanded. “We’ll get a refill while Thorin and Bilbo are occupied swatting aside Kíli.”

Turning to Ori, she winked. “Our tent is just across from yours—if you want, you can already get a cosy vibe going. We’ll be there soon, with cake and buns, and then we can get the party started.”

If Kyra thought, even for a moment, that the long-legged, eminently elegant woman by her side intended to do all these things herself, she was much mistaken, though, for Tauriel grabbed Fíli by the arm in passing and tasked him with the discreet theft of some apple cider.

“They agreed after much begging,” Kíli yelled across the clearing as he leapt towards them like a puppy having slipped out of its collar.

“How did you convince them?” Tauriel asked tenderly, leaning forward instinctively to receive the kiss of celebration and shared triumph Kíli gave her.

“I told them Ori was sweet on her,” he replied with a shrug. “On this evening of folly and love on which they have disappeared for a suspiciously long time only to arrive late and very lovey-dovey, they could hardly deny the boy his chance, could they?”

Kyra gasped. Tauriel broke into breathless laughter.

“Good, good,” she wheezed. “We’ve sent Ori ahead to prepare our little campground. Why don’t you go and give him a hand? Tell him that this might be his last chance to shoot his shot, so to say!”

“Will do, boss,” Kíli grinned and bounced off.

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the fourth 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