#gandalf literally admits that he would become evil if he even held the ring

[iambeees]

[tubbyliltuna]

.home // thorin oakenshield x reader.

Just a little something I wrote on another website awhile ago, throwing it out here. I love the hobbit, but I’m always too scared to really write for it.

No warnings. Just fluff. 

❤️

    It was cold along the peaks of the wilderness, whether it was summer, spring, fall, nor winter, chilling specks continued to gracefully fall in a slow rain, landing deftly onto your shoulder and dotting wet spots as it melted away from the radiating warmth of your body that shivered. But it wouldn't be long until you would be at the foot-holds again, planted firmly on solid ground that would't strike a constant worry of crumbling from beneath you, and miles closer to Lake Town, the ruins of the once great city of Dale, and the walls of the destination - Erebor. The Lonely Mountiain, a peak ever so high that the tip pierced through the rolling clouds and could have touched Heaven, one that sat alone in a strategic position and the halls delved deep into the Earth for miles on end, flowing with treasures beyond a wild dream that the sin Greed himself could ever dream. Of course, it wasn't all gold and jewels that lay inside, but the memories that were made and cherished, and the ones that never had the chance to be before the dragon Smaug terrorized the land and made the home of your friends his own only to cure his lust. Though most would believe it had been the hunger - a sickness - for more that Thror, Thorin's grandfather, that bought their demise upon them with the dragon, for the creatures love it beyond anything else and that the two species were not so different after all and though at times you would become so frustrated with them all and their stubbornness that you would mindlessly and inwardly agree, you had to disagree more so often. 

     Dwarfs were stubborn beyond belief; rude; ill-mannered; hot-headed; unsightly, and your list could go on for hours and if it were on paper it would drag for miles, but they're also kind in their own special way; understanding to suffering; joyous in dark times, and loyal to a fault, and everything beyond anything you could have asked for in friends. The same could be said for the timid, yet growing, Hobbit - Bilbo Baggins - and the Wizard, Gandalf, the both of them showing to be just the same, and equally reliable.

   Though, you all had your secrets - perhaps except little Bilbo(and you say little with you standing a head taller than the tallest Dwarf) - and that was understandable, and of course, they weren't all accepting to you at first, being a friend of Gandalf who was neither a wizard, nor warrior, nor blacksmith, nor ... anything of that sort really. You were a ranger, to be exact, and stealth was your main key, and while the Hobbit was the burglar, you were the hunter. Not much was known about you; you weren't in any books, never made history, no kings or queens knew your name, nothing fancy of the sort, and perhaps that's exactly why they were so distant and quiet towards you. They had nothing to go by for the start except for your meeting - a smile, a greeting and a bow where you hood clumsily flipped up onto your head, and a disbelieving glance from all of them that you were what you are. But Gandalf knew better, having known you since you were a child, meeting you one day when you were lost and threatening him in a small voice(you were the stubborn child!), but nothing of the sort swayed Thorin or sat well with the Dwarf prince. You were a woman, you were a stranger, and he wanted no liability to risk the life of his kin or the fate of their quest, because the 'burglar' was filling that position well enough. 

     You and the Wizard devised a plan right behind Thorins back - literally, with simple looks, you knew what to do and you departed with none of them noticing, only catching a sigh of relief with your keen ears from the Dwarf before you disappeared into the woods. But you followed, you tagged, laying back into the shadows, on foot as it would be too noticeable to ride a horse, and though you were extremely tired at the end of the day, you were successful, only being spotted twice by Bilbo(who's shaping up to be quiet the burglar if you could say so yourself). You were no stranger to each race, having studied them a lot in your free time as a child, aside form hunting, and Hobbit's have keen ears, wonderful eyesight and the ability to go unseen, and you were quiet envious of them having it naturally, having had to work on it yourself, but he never said anything, obviously figuring Gandalf wanted you to come for a good specific reason, and you were grateful he was using his head.

   Thorin was furious when he found out, down right angry that this had been going on for a whole month, behind his back, but his trust in the Wizard never swayed or faded, only his distrust in your growing to the max. You figured that would happen, so it didn't upset you completely, especially with the fact you had saved his holiar-than-thou rumpus when he found out, so that could have upped your chances of being accepted. Though time went on, and the Company's weariness of you faded, slowly and painfully as you proved to be useful to them; finding their food, safer routes, taking food from stalls when you passed through small towns(though you pinned that one on Bilbo to help his status as their burglar, and you're proud to admit you taught him some things and he put them to good use sometimes), being the back-up defense in battles or the 'secret' weapon which you found a bit skeptical but you didn't like fighting much anyway so you dealt with it easily. You preferred to be at a good distance of your target, never having to actually get close to them, because - as everyone had found out - looking your prey in the face made it impossible for you to kill it or them, and that was your weakness.

   Now here you stood; chapped lips parted and white puffs of warm breath rolling up through the bitter and bleak sky, your feet paused on a high rock that over looked the horizon and out above the world from the peak in the wilderness you and the Company now passed on, your chest heaving with baited breath and a lump in your throat from the dry air as your eyes scanned out slowly, drinking in the sight for both danger and for your own pleasure. It was beautiful, despite being cold, but you grew up in a part of the world that didn't get snow - below the Shire - and while you had been in places where winter fell, it was never like this. Beautiful, and pure white like it was slowly cleansing the world of all the evil that had been done to it, purifying the earth of wanton blood spill, and while the thought was extremely naive and short-lived, it brought a warm smile through the harsh onto your lips until you caught something in the distance. It looked so small, so fragile from where you stood as the clouds rolled slowly like molasses past it, the grey foggy color splitting and fading, showing the large majestic mountain to look like a simple rolling hill that would be spotted in a pasture for horses. But it was so much for than that, and it caused your lungs to expand quickly, sharply, like the ragged edges that out-lined the sides and bottoms of it. One word escaped your mouth, something dry and raspy one that contained three simple syllables;

   "Erebor,"

   It was immediately after the word that seemed to echo in the silence escaped your mouth, the sound of feet stopped and the sound of murmuring quieted to nothing, only the whistling of the steady wind ringing in your ears and you heard something foreign and harsh a few feet beside you, causing your head to whip around. It was Thorin, the prince himself, gazing past you, his eyes that held a storm in both emotion and color resting solid on the distant mountain, but your eyes narrowed questioningly as his irises landed on your face. "Home," and every expression on your face dropped, faster that a fresh branding iron that landed on your hand, setting in one of shock and awe.

   You knew that language; the harsh and sharp, tongue cutting sounds that escaped the mouths of the Dwarfs ever so often, but more Bifur than anyone else since that was all the poor man was capable of. It was their native tongue, one of their most prized and secretive things. Of course, it was no secret to you what it sounded like, but you never understood a single word of it - it wasn't something they taught to other races, or even enjoyed hearing them speak, and the curl that crossed the princes pale and cracked lips was warm and comfortable, defying everything the air and temperature around you stood for, completely contrary to it and it was genuine. It made you happy, safe even, seeing something so rare come onto his features that are usually so sullen and irritated, and you couldn't help the one that begin to twitch at the corners of your mouth, the spasm in your muscles as a slight stinging crossed over your eyes.

   "Thorin - "

   And he returned it, slowly turning as a sense of pride and welcoming washed over every fiber in your body, his eyes trained on you even over his shoulders before his face completely left your view, facing the cold white of the world once again, and the wonderful Company who watched in amusement and listened in wonder. "It is Home."