#give me kind of a jerk loves the sound of his own voice thorin or give me death

[themoonking]

i don’t have a frothing hate for the hobbit movies or anything but it’s so annoying that while yes, a lot of the characters weren’t really fleshed out in the book, instead of taking what personality they did have and expanding on that, they just completely rewrote them so that the movies could be more like the lotr films

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Back to school - chapter 5

Being sick at home, I have time to update my different stories :D

So, here's another Kira-chapter with a few surprises :))))

Fandom: The Hobbit (still an AU)

Characters : Thranduil x OC (and the others being awful)

Words: 4,5 k (+/-)

Rating: Gen

Warnings: reference to alcohol, silliness, awkwardness and a small surprise :D

Waking up was hard; Kira’s head vibrated with pain.

She should not have opened that aged rum just to numb the second-hand pain; she was not 20 anymore and she now paid the price for her reckless behaviour. “A new day, a new chance.” She told herself as she saw her bleary complexion in the tiny bathroom mirror.

A quick glance on another crumpled sheet of paper Gandalf had handed her informed her that she would have her class twice today. One hour for literature and another one, in the afternoon for “social studies and integration”. If she hadn’t been that miserable, she would have laughed as Gandalf had struck out the words and written “etiquette” beneath the line.

How the ever-loving hell was she supposed to teach those kids etiquette and manners? She had almost been stoned to death for taking them out into the courtyard and now she was supposed to teach them…table manners?

Brushing her hair back in a neat ponytail and slipping into her ratty old cardigan, she opened the door just to almost bump into a pristine white shirt. “Good morning, Kira.”

“Thranduil.” She sighed, recognising the woody, masculine scent, and the melodious voice. “I am quite able to find my way to school on my own.” She ground out, trying to push past the intrusive colleague. One could count on people like him to show up, perfectly styled and handsome as the devil himself, when one was feeling low and looking like a pile of…undesirable and unattractive things that might or might not have exited another organism.

When she turned around, he stood rooted to the ground, an unfathomable expression on his beautiful face. “I thought you might care for some company, even if it’s just me.” He murmured, lower than she had ever heard him speak.

Oh, here’s another one who isn’t loved well, Kira thought and her heart gave an unexpected and involuntary jerk.

“That is very kind of you.” She nodded slowly, seeing his eyes widen. When was the last time someone had called him “kind”, she wondered, feeling strangely sorry for him.

“The kids call me Thrandy.” He informed her as they walked to the unseemly building, earning a few nods and a few fearful looks. The kids call you all kinds of names, Kira thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut.

Her first class wouldn’t start for over an hour, but she had wanted to return Thorin’s file and maybe poke around in the school a bit before having to teach. Only, how was she to get rid of the man who seemed to have become her veritable shadow in the few hours she had been in this town?

“Don’t you have a class to teach?” She asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Yes.” He replied simply.

Without consciously choosing to do so, Kira walked alongside him to his class. She really was not at her best on this morning, otherwise she would have parted ways with him earlier.

“Hi, Miss Kira. Do you remember me? I’m…” – “Thorin’s sister.” Kira supplied readily, with a warm smile.

“D��s, go in, please.” Thranduil ordered and she obeyed with a smirk. “Oh, Kira, you’re early.” Gandalf hastened down the corridor. “I am not late, I am never late, I arrive exactly when I mean to arrive.” He informed Thranduil when the other man cocked an eyebrow and lifted his eyes to the clock fastened to the opposite wall.

“Yes…I had an idea. I will wander around some, except if the bogeyman might come and grab me off the stairs here inside the school as well?” Kira mocked, being met with two very disapproving looks.

“You should be fine here.” Thranduil replied calmly, making his class fall into silence by merely shoving his face, quite creepily if one asked Kira, into the classroom and giving them a punitive stare.

That man had an absurdly long neck, Kira thought, and he looked quite ridiculous, poking his head around corners like a grumpy giraffe. Really, he and Thorin seemed to be in a perpetual contest who could look dourer for the longest time.

“Miss Kira.” Ah, speak of the devil. Kira turned around to find Bilbo with Thorin hovering just behind him; the young boy’s very own dark raincloud. “Bilbo, Thorin, good morning.” She turned on her teacher-smile.

In the long months before coming here, she had almost forgotten how much she loved working with teenagers. They thought themselves so grown-up already, but they smelled like cheap shower gel and half-outgrown dreams.

“Did you have a nice night?” Bilbo asked. “I…Yes, I was very eager to come to work though.” Kira replied. Bilbo was an adorable kid: small with a penchant to growing slightly pudgy maybe, he had eyes that reminded her of the rolling hills of the countryside…and of its bustling, invincible life.

“Yes, I couldn’t wait either.” He gave her a wide grin and let himself be herded into class.

“Was it really bad?” Thorin nodded at the file sticking out from her satchel; a file that might well reek of spilled rum and tears now. “You tell me, Thorin, was it really bad?” She asked back earnestly.

“He’s a troublemaker.” Thranduil interjected, lifting his hands placatingly when Kira spun around, eyes ablaze. “But, there’s a but, woman, let me finish! This one is a pain in the ass, excuse my French, but not all of what you’ll find in the files is 100% true…or fair.” She stared at him in confusion, had he really said what she thought he had?

“I’ve got to go teach. The kids usually go home for lunch, but there is a lunchroom.” Thranduil nodded and went into his classroom without waiting for Kira to collect her thoughts and reply to his surprising admission of fallibility in teachers.

“What was that about?” Kira scratched her head. “I think the dear colleague wanted to invite you to have lunch with the staff?” Gandalf said gently, but his smile was sharp and too radiant to be honest.

Kira blushed, confusion writ plain on her face. “If…my idea works out, I shall have to go home again. I’ll be fine.” She smiled, wondering if her colleague would think that her no-show would be some kind of rejection.

Thorin was still staring at the closed door, apparently aghast that Thranduil would admit that he was indeed not actually the Antichrist reborn. “Thorin, can I beg for your illustrious presence in my mathematics class?” Gandalf prompted the boy with a rumbling chuckle.

Kira watched as he slid his impassive mask back on and trudged into the room as if he was under duress when she had clearly seen the tiny smirk he had given his headteacher before returning to being the sullen boy everyone expected him to be.

“I’ll hand them over soon enough, don’t you worry.” Gandalf grinned at her and closed the door.

Kira huffed, her superior seemed to know everything and have an amazingly good understanding of what went on inside of people’s minds; she had noticed that the previous evening already, but he was so humorous and nonchalant about it, that it had only struck her when she had returned to the void of her apartment.

Resolutely, she struck out for the administration office and returned the file.

“Ah? And? Already scared off?” The same lady asked her casually. “Not in the least.” Kira replied pugnaciously; the more people tried to warn her off, the harder she would doggedly stay true to her course.

“Is there a ballroom here?” She asked. “A what? There’s the festivity room, but it’s never used. Whatever do you need a ballroom for? Do you want them to dance? Dwalin will give you a bloody nose.” The woman laughed.

“Dwalin will do nothing of the sort. He’s a decent fellow.” Kira contradicted calmly which made the woman freeze in the middle of her movement as she was bringing a cup of coffee to her lips.

Her eyebrows rose in slow-motion. “Decent? Dwalin? He brawls like he’s paid for it. Always black and blue.”

Kira’s stomach turned into a block of ice. There were other reasons for kids to be bruised and she would have to look into it. No, his brother had not struck her as someone who would mistreat a young’un like that.

“Let that be my worry. Where is that room?” Kira enquired and took off as soon as she was given the information she had asked for.

Yes, she thought, this would do nicely.

There was even a small kitchen down a corridor. “A small lunchroom, huh?” She muttered to herself.

Table manners, yes, and who knew? She might even get the kids to dance.

Either way, if it was at all possible, she would organise a ball. A winter formal for her kids, for she saw them as her very own and she was fiercely loyal to them already, and all the others.

“Air…We need air and sunlight.” No matter how dark the times were, children needed fun and something to look forward to and she would be damned if she didn’t at least try to provide that for them.

If necessary, she would clean the whole room by herself, decorate it by herself, cook by herself. Kira had a purpose, and she would not be set adrift again, not when she remembered all too well how it had felt to haunt her own life as a shadow of herself.

Dreaming her time away, she had to run to be on time for her class and she nearly bumped into Thranduil again. He was like a moving wall, always in the way, he was the very symbol of the labyrinth she had fallen into.

“Kira…” He started, but then ran out of words. “Thranduil.” She replied in that same cold tone.

“So…Oh, the Silmarillion? You know that they’re borderline illiterate?” He mocked as he saw the book she was extracting from her satchel. “You know that you’re…unfair?” She shot back and pushed past him, which felt like squeezing along a statue of marble. He didn’t budge. She didn’t even throw him off balance. Cocky bastard.

“Hello Miss Kira.” Unisono, the class greeted her, and she could see the astonishment in Thranduil’s eyes as he was still standing in front of her open door, eager to see her flounder and fail, probably.

“Hello class.” Kira replied, her warmest smile on display and then, turning to her colleague, “Was there anything else I can do for you? If not, be so good as to close the door, please? Thank you.”

Kira was unsurprised to find that the kids were not anywhere near illiterate. Yes, their reading skills had to be improved upon, but they listened carefully as she explained J.R.R Tolkien’s early mythology and were willing to read some of the parts as their curriculum for this class.

“Will we have to buy the book?” Ori asked, worrying his lower lip. “There might be a copy or two in the library…but…” He went on, looking intensely miserable.

Kira caught Bilbo’s discreet look and the almost imperceptible shake of the head; his index rubbed ever so lightly across his thumb and Kira understood: money was an issue for some of these kids.

“I’ll see if the school can order them.” Kira replied vaguely. “And we get to keep them?” Ori exclaimed, his eyes sparkling like precious gems in a deep cavern.

Kira looked at her class, everyone but Bilbo looked wretched, but Kira knew that it was not for the same reasons. Having experienced Thranduil’s reaction first-hand, she could understand why Legolas would be afraid to bring home a book his father would think so far beyond his capacities that it would make the boy hate it; Tauriel, Ori and Bombur were probably loath to ask their parents or guardians for money for a schoolbook, especially as their actual schoolbooks were clearly hand-me-downs. Thorin and Dwalin worked hard for their money and should have the right to spend it on fun and extravagant teenage pleasures rather than dusty old books.

“The school will not spend one cent on us.” Thorin grumbled. “Well, tough luck for them, because I have a long wish list.” Kira replied, a steely note in her voice.

“What if the school says “no”?” Tauriel asked, taking into account everything that had been said.

“If the school says “no”, I’ll ask them why.” Kira answered. “Because they think we cannot read.” Legolas muttered.

“In that case, I will buy the rotten books myself and we will read them and that will teach them…No, I’m sorry, but is this a school or a prison? If a school decides that kids are denied materials to learn because they are unable to learn, then the fault lies with the school and not the kids. How about that?” Kira took a deep breath; it would not do to show the students her irrational frustration and anger with the school system in general and this school in particular.

“You’ll get yourself into trouble, Miss Kira.” Bombur commented between two bites of his sandwich.

“Good. I have to prove myself worthy of my class. So, where are we on those presentations?” Kira asked.

The minutes just flew, intelligent questions were asked, and answers were dug out, discussions were sparked and entertained, and Kira could feel herself breathe again. This was what she had dreamt of doing all her life.

“Listen class, I see you this afternoon and I wanted to ask you for a small favour. I want you to draw up, in your mind, your understanding of formal clothing. We’ll meet in the festivity room, and we’ll talk about an idea I had.”

Blank stares followed by excited chatter.

Bilbo’s eyes lit up. “I can wear my formal clothing. If I do, will you?” He asked Kira with earnest joy in his eyes.

“Deal.” She said and they shook hands on it. “No lunch for me then…” She chuckled, not in the least dismayed.

“See you this afternoon.” She waved at her class and made her way out of the school before someone else got it into their head to walk her to and from home.

What had she agreed to? Kira was exasperated by her hair and her sickly pale face, but she had given her word and she would not go back on it.

The long dark red dress shimmered in the midday light as she stepped out of the shower and pulled her hair up in a formal bun; she might as well go the whole nine yards, she thought, and put on make-up.

She felt silly and she couldn’t shake the impression of being watched as she walked back to school, her dress sweeping over the floor with every step.

“Kira.” Jesus Christ, was he everywhere? How many times had he said her name today?

“Thranduil?” She turned around, the flowing fabric billowing around her and almost making her stumble.

“Why do you…You look…Why…?” He would have looked adorably flustered if it hadn’t been for the frown that crossed his forehead as if some moody god had tried to strike out his face.

“Etiquette class this afternoon. We’ll start with formal clothing.” She replied haughtily and tried to walk away from him again, but he took one smooth step to block her path. Now, he was definitely doing it on purpose.

“Ah ok…Erm…Good afternoon.” He snapped, turned on his heels and walked back into the very direction he had originally come from. Did he often just walk to and fro for no reason?

“Miss Kira!” Ah, that was a much more welcome voice, Kira thought as Bilbo caught up with her. “Amazing idea, I am invited to Tho…Dís’ this afternoon and now, I don’t have to go home to change.”

Kira cocked her head questioningly. “That is nice, what is the occasion?” She asked. “Homework.” Bilbo replied.

“You do homework with Dís? In your formal clothing?” Kira frowned mockingly, exaggerating her confusion.

“No…erm…I…I do my homework with Thorin of course, but Dís invited me and I wanted to make a good impression on his…her…their family.” Bilbo spluttered, blushing a dark pink and rubbing his nose in embarrassment.

“Well, that is even nicer. I am glad to hear that you take your homework so seriously.” Kira smiled and let the boy lead her into the school. He was wearing a white shirt and a tawny waistcoat over a very formal looking pair of brown pants. Down to the pastel cravat and the pocket handkerchief, Bilbo looked like the very picture of sophisticated adolescence.

“I think you should not have worried that much.” Kira whispered as they approached the locked festivity room.

“Oh sweet potatoes and gravy.” Bilbo cursed under his breath, or at least his tone made Kira believe that it was meant as a curse.

Thorin looked like he was going to a funeral. All clad in black and dark blue, he reminded her of a raven more than of a boy, and his perpetual scowl had never looked as appropriate as in this moment.

“I look like a fool.” He complained, and Kira was about to tell him that she had never asked or forced him to don his most refined clothes, but Bilbo was quicker and his breathless “You look amazing” was probably also the better answer.

While she unlocked the room, a swishing sound got Kira’s attention and she turned around to see Legolas and Tauriel coming their way; they were both wearing clothes that looked foreign in cut and material: flowing, silky and absolutely stunning.

Kira patted herself on the back for her idea and, a few minutes later, when the whole class had arrived, she could feel excitement and interest burgeon instead of open hostility. Apparently, all of them had agreed to dig out their Sunday best for this class and Kira had to hold back not to stare at them in amazement.

They had never seen each other like that and the fact that they all seemed awkward and ill-at-ease made it easier for them to bond over the shared experience of trying to wear the clothes and not let the clothes wear them.

“You look absolutely marvellous.” Kira declared finally; her voice heavy with pride.

“I look like a clown.” Dwalin grumbled, the dark grey dress shirt taut over his broad chest and his dark hair slicked back elegantly. “You don’t.” Kira contradicted. He looked imposing and obviously uncomfortable, but he also looked very elegant and handsome in his dark trousers and his well-ironed shirt.

“We grown-ups wear our best clothes as an armour and as a reminder of who we want to be and what we want to represent. I see that you respect the weight that comes with formal clothing; your posture has improved, and this is the first time I don’t see any downcast looks and averted faces.”

She sighed: “You deserve to be proud of yourselves just as much as anybody else. This class is an etiquette class…and I want it to be a redemption. Children…we will have a ball.”

“A ball?” Tauriel piped up, her voice strangled with emotion. “A ball. We will have a winter formal.” Kira confirmed.

“Just us? Dís would love that.” Thorin blurted out and then hid behind his disapproving, grumpy mask again.

“No, not just us. We will organise it and the others will come and dance.” Kira smiled.

“We will?” Ori was doubtful. “Yup, we will see where your strengths lie and then we’ll work on everything that goes with it: cooking, serving, making small talk with Thranduil.”

“Are you sure you’re able to teach us that?” Dwalin muttered, apologising immediately when he realised that he said that out loud and that it was an insult that might well lead to ruining the good will Kira had for them.

“I am not, but we will all try. Should we try that?” Kira was worried that they’d refuse outright, that they’d laugh at her, but once again, the class surprised her when they all started talking at the same time.

“I am a good cook. God, I love food.” Bilbo exclaimed. “So do I!” Bombur laughed and ambled closer, already thinking up recipes that would work in that context.

“You’d dare organising a ball?” Thorin was standing right in front of her, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes…I’ve been told that Dwalin would give me a bloody nose for it.” Kira replied, acting braver than she felt.

“Dwalin? Never…He’s a good dancer and he loves it.” Thorin chuckled, a sound like faraway thunder rolling over the land and shaking the ground. “A ball…” Thorin mumbled pensively, his eyes wandering to Bilbo again and again.

Ah, yes, that was a part she had not thought about duly, Kira had to admit: with formals came the whole teenage anxiety-inducing ordeal of asking someone out and buying flowers and corsages.

“Hmmm, there should be fairy lights.” Ori muttered beside her, chewing on the end of his pen pensively. “We’d need a contraption of sorts for that, wouldn’t we?” Kira thought aloud, charmed by the idea and happy to have another one of them on board.

“That can be done. Legolas here is good at climbing things and we are good at crafting things.” Dwalin muttered in a low growl that was much less impressive as his eyes shone with a fierce glimmer of joy.

Kira had the feeling to grow taller by the minute; she was so proud of those kids who had been hailed as Satanists and who had followed her into every single thing she had pitched as a project. She would do her best not to let them down.

“Uh-oh.” Legolas made, standing a few feet away from her and looking around the walls to gauge how tall the ladder would have to be to attach fairy lights below the ceiling.

Whirling around, Kira almost ended up smothered in a dark grey woollen cardigan partially covering the white button-down she had looked at from much too close up this morning already. How many times could this man just manifest right behind her? Did he float? Was she deaf?

“The door was open.” Thranduil declared as if that explained his sudden appearance. “Yes, this is a school. If I locked myself in with a bunch of teenagers, with this bunch of teenagers, I’m sure someone would have called the firemen and the police by now.” Kira rolled her eyes. “Are you spying on us?” She asked with a wink.

“No…Class is over and I…I was curious what you were doing, looking like that…” He looked around and caught the embarrassed gaze of his son. “Oh, you look nice, Legolas.” He commented which made the boy’s ears turn pink with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.” He breathed shyly.

“So…what is this going to be when it’s over?” Thranduil leant against the door he had pulled shut behind him and Kira couldn’t help noticing how tall he was; he had slender limbs and his whole body seemed to flow in almost liquid lines.

Snap out of it girl, he has asked you a question, Kira admonished herself and replied: “A ball. We’re going to have a ball.”

The closed door made her feel claustrophobic all of a sudden; it felt strangely as if she was the one pressed against the hard surface with Thranduil towering over her, the cool, gauging expression in his eyes making her squirm.

“Ah, really? And…will you send hand-written invitation to said ball?” Thranduil cocked one eyebrow. “Maybe we will.” Kira gave back in a stroppy tone. “So, the other classes are invited?” He pressed on.

“Why? Do you want to chaperone?” Thorin chuckled grimly. “As their headteacher, it falls within my responsibilities to oversee this kind of celebration if my class is to attend.” Thranduil answered stiff-lipped.

“Oi, lads, we are going to send old Thrandy an invitation.” Dwalin hooted under his breath, for he had caught the flash of embarrassment in the teacher’s eyes; Thranduil wanted to come, he wanted to be invited.

“Yes, quiet, Dwalin, thank you. Those are things to decide later in the process.” Kira tried to prevent a complete derailment of the conversation into complete and utter chaos.

“You are dismissed, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Kira ushered the children out, confused by the fact that her colleague made no attempt to follow either the stream of chattering youngsters or his own son.

“I had hoped you would come to the lunchroom.” Thranduil murmured as soon as the students had vanished around the corner, flipping a strand of his perfectly smooth almost colourless hair over his shoulder nervously.

“Dude, this,” Kira pointed at her face and her dress, “did not happen in a jiffy. I had to go home and change. Otherwise, I would have come.”

“Ah…yes…well, it would be a shame to waste such a tremendous effort.” As he saw Kira’s face sour, he went on quickly: “Not that I want to insinuate that it would take a great deal of effort to make yourself look lovely, but as you’ve pointed out that you’ve taken pains to create this…” He waved helplessly at her, “I wondered what you had planned for dinner.”

I don’t cook myself a three-course menu, Kira thought, remembering the can of beans in her cupboard; she had not had the time or the inclination to go shopping since arriving and she was not exactly looking forward to the beans.

“Nothing. Why?” She asked, shrugging and retrieving her satchel from the floor.

“If you don’t mind seeing your students AGAIN today, there’s a little restaurant down the street. I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe, we can resolve that issue over dinner.”

Was she seeing things or did his face twitch?

“What makes you say that?” She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“You’ve called me an asshole? I am confident in saying that you do not like me overmuch.” He muttered, visibly annoyed. “True. I am sorry for insulting you.” Kira stood firm, not sure if she fancied having dinner with her stuck-up colleague whose eyes were dancing with dizzying stars like fireflies over a frozen lake.

[foxrun-fluffery]

The Greatest Distance

Summary: Thorin’s company is displaced in time by Gandalf, due to an emergency. They land in front of country girl Piper and her son. After recognizing them, mostly, she realizes that in no way can they be left on their own in this modern world, and now she has to cope with some of the strangest house guests ever!

OC/Canon ship to develop.

Tag List: @sdavid09, @fallnangelcreations

                                         CHAPTER TWO

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A trip down the freeway, and a ride in a truck.

In the unsettling moments after their arrival, a number of the dwarves were caught by surprise with a heavy wave of nausea. More than a few empties their stomachs, which took a good deal longer for poor Bombur, upon the ground they arrived upon. Bofur, still struggling to hold his dinner down, patted his brother’s back and tried to speak comfortingly, and it would have worked had he not been gagging every third word.

Those who weren’t divesting themselves of their dinner were looking around in various stages of dazed unease. Dwalin and Gloin recovered first and they were pacing a circle around the others, trying to spot any threats. The only thing they saw was a young boy, who was sitting in a swing nearby, staring at them, his jaw hanging. Dwalin cursed, while Gloin tried to apply his best “fun dad” voice to the situation.

“Hey, now, don’t worry ‘bout what ye just saw, laddie.” Gloin kept his hands up In a pacifying manner. “We jus’, erm, we jus’ go’ here, ain’t nothin’ t’ worry about…” and he sighed heavily when the child sprang off the bench and ran to the other side of a large construct, that the dwarf assumed to be a play space for the child, and likely any others who would come by.

“Moooooooooooooom!” The child yelled, running behind the structure.

The others clambered to their feet and stood in a tight group, around their youngest members and their leader. They also made certain to stand a comfortable distance from where some of them had heaved. Which was a lovely odd sort of picture when the child returned, with his mother in tow. The group rippled with some quiet murmurs, and Balin found himself pushed to the forefront.

“Ah, lass, we didn’t mean to frighten you’re bairn, quite sorry about that.” He said as politely and diplomatically as he could, praying to their distant Mahal that she both understood and would stay calm. In his experience mothers of small children could be quite unpredictable. With luck she wasn’t at all like the dwarrowdam who had lived near them back in Ered Luin, she would go off into fits of someone so much as looked at her wee dwarflings wrong.

The woman, who was quite unusual to them to start with, seemed to be entirely caught off guard. She had brightly colored hair, which no one among the dwarves even dared believe was natural, and wore tight fitting leggings, along with a low scoop cut blouse, with the face of a cat on it. Shocking to all of them was how short her hair was, buzzed on one side and longer on the other, it barely reached her chin. What sort of woman had so little hair!?

“Uhm…” She started, looking dumbfounded. A whole gaggle of oddly familiar men were staring at her and one spoke.

“They came from the air!” The boy said, gripping her hand with both of his and bouncing up and down with such enthusiasm that his mother was jerked around.

“Okay okay, leave my arm attached!” She hissed at him, drawing her hand back from the four year old. “I see them! Honey, I don’t think they came from nowhere. People don’t just… pop out of the air!”

“Moooom!” The boy insisted, sounding frustrated now. “They did!” He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his TMNT t-shirt. “You never listen…” At four he felt very grown up now, and he also felt that his mother ought to listen to him more than she did sometimes.

While the two humans were speaking, Bifur looked over to see his cousin standing with his jaw hanging open, staring at the woman. He glanced between them for a second, before a smug grin spread on his face, and he eyed her more skeptically. She wasn’t a great deal taller than any of them, perhaps a handful of inches over Thorin’s height, and while she didn’t have the stockiness of a dwarf, she certainly had pleasant curves, and her clothes didn’t hide that fact at all. How did anyone let a woman like this out dressed so!? Then an awful thought struck him, if she had a child, she had a husband. He looked to Bofur once more, and saw the pain on his cousin’s face, feeling quite crestfallen himself. What an awful curse!

“Ah, yes, actually, miss, your young boy may have a point,” Balin ventured slowly. “We,” he glanced over at his king and received a subtle nod telling him to continue. “We did rather appear out of thin air.”

“Excuse me?” She faced him with her brows raised, looking skeptical and unamused. While she didn’t find offense in his attitude, she didn’t appreciate someone leading her son on about things she had just explained to him couldn’t happen. Something nagged the back of her mind every time she looked at them. They looked so familiar! Why couldn’t she place where she had seen them before?

Another figure pushed his way forward in the rag-tag group. “Ah, ye can’t really hold it against the poor lad, we did just pop up on him!” Bofur insisted, coming to the boy’s defense, if only because he couldn’t stand not saying something to her at the moment. “If yer gonna be angry at him fer his words--” “I’m not angry, I just didn’t want him telling me tall tales, thank you.” The woman replied curtly.

With a heavy sigh, Balin nudged Bofur back. “Before we get off on the wrong foot,” he shot the hatted dwarf a glare. “I apologize for my… friend.” Shaking his head he smiled politely once more. “My name is Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” He bowed, and stood up to explain more, but saw the woman had clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. “I.. uhm… we, rather… a-are you alright?”

“Dwarves…” she muttered, recognizing them then. It had been a few years since she had watched any of those movies, or even read the book for that matter. But it was slowly clicking into place. They looked exactly like the cast of The Hobbit! “You’re… oh my!” What detailed cosplayers! As a bit of a nerd herself, though she tended towards more science fiction, she was thoroughly impressed. “Just missing a hobbit, huh?” “No! I’m right here!” Bilbo piped up, before he realized her statement was rather strange, considering they didn’t know her, and expected she didn’t know them. He shuffled through the dwarves to step forward.

“Wha--” This was too much suddenly. He was a very very tiny Martin Freeman. Quite exactly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, Aiden Turner, Richard Armitage, and Dean O’Gorman, those faces she recognized immediately, others she spotted but didn’t recall their names, for they hadn’t been in many other things she had watched. Dwalin and Bofur were among them. After a second she realized she was looking up at them, and a few were running to her side. Without realizing she had sat down quite abruptly, her legs giving out under her. “Y-- you… you… you’re… hu~uh~...” With an trembling exhale, she looked them all over.

She lifted one hand to grip her son’s wrist, reassuring herself he was still there. “Am… am I dreaming?” She asked them, quite calmly after a moment.

“No, lass.” Balin assured her in a gentle tone, knelt before her. She looked a touch too pale for his comfort. “You see true.”

“Take it easy now,” Bofur urged, crouched at her side. “Just breathe… tha’s a girl!” He reached out to gently rub her back, but couldn’t help but grimace when she tensed under his touch. “Sorry…”

“I’m… I’m alright… Just… gimme a sec.” She shivered, looking up at all of them. “What… are you doing here? You’re… you’re not…” “That damned wizard sent us here,” Thorin rumbled from nearby.

“That’s a bad word!” The boy piped up, pointing a finger at the king.

“Riordan!” His mother hissed.

Turning his blue gaze on the boy, Thorin cracked a grin after a second, and leaned down, setting his hands on his knees, as he had done with Kili and Fili when they were young. “That is is, young man. You’re very right, and I’m sorry if I used foul language in front of you and your mother. Will you forgive me?”

Not quite accustomed to being spoken to in such an adult way by strangers, most people tended to just pass the kid off as a young one who got half baby-talked to, Riordan slowly nodded, while leaning against his mother’s shoulder shyly. “Yeah.” Then, perhaps inspired by Thorin’s directness with him, he smiled, “I’m Riordan at your�� uhm…” “Service,” Balin filled in for him, realizing the boy was mimicking his earlier introduction.

All of the dwarves grinned when the boy bowed, if a little awkwardly. While not all of them were fathers or uncles themselves, it was natural for their kind to cherish children. And the boy was undeniably adorable.

While this transpired, the woman slowly got herself back to her feet, brushing off her backside. “Right well I’m… I think I need to sit somewhere still… Rio, go play some more, okay? Let mommy think a bit.” She ushered her boy off towards the playground.

Riordan didn’t seem too pleased, but he followed her command, not before groaning in exasperation. However at the prospect of playing, instead of talking to a bunch of adults, he was soon bounding off to have fun on the playground equipment.

Balin helped the woman over to a bench, and watched as she sat down. He took a seat next to her. “I’m sorry if we upset you, lassie. We’re quite out of sorts ourselves. You see… we were on a bit of a journey--” “I bet.” “When we were sent here.” Balin looked over at her, wondering what she had meant.

“So… so you’re… you’re really real…?” She looked over at him, raising her hand to gently touch his shoulder, then it ghosted up to his cheek. Eventually she straight up poked his nose, gently of course.

Balin chuckled, letting her touch his face, realizing she was still trying to cope with this new reality as much as they were. At least they had had warning. “Aye, lass, we’re quite real. Ah, now, this here is Bofur, and here is Dori, Ori, Dwalin, and our leader, Thorin. And our b-- hobbit, Bilbo.” Introducing him as a burglar seemed in poor taste in this situation. “And that’s Fili and Kili, playing with your lad.” Looking up, she smiled a little to watch her son laughing as the dark haired brother caught him at the bottom of the tall slide, the lighter haired dwarf at the top, having followed him up. “I’m Piper.” She introduced herself, looking over to Thorin first then. “So… you’re really dwarves… of Middle Earth?”

“You know of us?” Thorin asked, suddenly on edge.

“Y-yeah…” Piper’s mind flashed a red flag. If she told them of certain events… it could be disastrous, she’d seen too many television shows dealing with time travel and knew she couldn’t tell them. “Your world… is a land of fable in ours. It’s a story book. A very old one, actually. But… how are you here?” “Gandalf.” Thorin huffed. “Likely the doing of the Valar, for what reason I cannot fathom.” He looked away, at his nephews who were happily entertaining the boy and giving Piper time to think. Though he almost wondered, watching Kili going down the ramp on his behind, that his younger nephew wasn’t doing it just for fun himself. He caught Fili’s eye and the two exchanged a nod. Yes, they were good lads, and quite understanding.

“I see… so you just got sent here? Why here?” Piper asked, looking around at them all as they were once again gathering around her.

“We don’t really know for sure, except Gandalf said we would be safe here.” Bilbo spoke, from not too far from her knee. He winced when she jumped, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. This must all be quite surprising for you.”

“For me…?” Piper’s eyes widened, “Not nearly as much as it must be for all of you!” Looking around at them, she realized that they stood out like a sore thumb. “Oh boy… uhm, you know you don’t exactly fit in… right?” In particular she eyed Dwalin and his axes. This could start a scene if someone came along. During a busy weekday, this park wasn’t very often occupied, but it wouldn’t be long before students were getting out of school. “We should go, all of you can’t be seen here, someone will… anyone could…” Shaking her head, she stood up, “I can fit you all in the back of my truck…” “And why should we follow you?” Dwalin rumbled, arms crossed. He hadn’t liked the way she eyed his weapons with such obvious distaste.

“We aren’t to cause any trouble!” Bilbo interjected, “I’m sure being seen out here wandering around like vagabonds would be trouble!” Thorin looked down at their burglar and nodded slowly, “The hobbit has a point. It seems we have found someone we must trust, just as the wizard said.” He turned, stepping in front of Piper, the others moving out of his way. “Lady Piper, we humbly beg your aid in this land, which is strange to us. We will follow your lead.”

Staring at him, her mouth moving without sound, Piper nodded, in a slow and rather disconnected sort of way. “Right…” She breathed the word out before she felt her lips quirking into a faint smile of disbelief. “Okay, right,” confidence began to fill her voice and she nodded. “Boys!” Turning, she faced the playground, “Riordan, bring your friends. It’s pizza night!”

“PIZZA!” Riordan slid down the fireman’s pole and sprinted for his mom. Except he tripped first, landing flat on his face in the wood chips. He got up, sniffling and whining as though he was about to cry. Before the tears could come, both Fili and Kili were at his side, the elder brother brushing off the bits of wood clinging to the boy. They joked and cheered him up, quietly, so as to, in their minds, let the boy retain his pride. Soon he was smiling, and Kili hoisted the boy onto his shoulders, bouncing him as they returned to the rest of their group.

Piper just smiled and shook her head at them, quite used to her son’s rough and tumble antics. “Silly half-pint.” She teased him, reaching out to poke her son’s tummy, earning a giggle. This was all so strange, it hurt her head to think about it too much. But she was quite certain she wasn’t dreaming, and they were, in fact, very real. The implications of the whole matter she could think through later, for now she had the inclination to deal with things as best she could think how. And getting them off the street, out of the open, seemed the smartest idea. It had been two years ago she had inherited a plot of property that belonged to her family, first her grandparents and then her parents, and now her, a good nine miles out from town, it was ten acres of wooded land. Her grandparents had been loggers, and her parents had helped them purchase the land to retire on, following suit when the time came. It was after her parents had passed, within months of each other, that she’d become the owner. It provided the seclusion needed for her usually reclusive personality, and now the seclusion needed by the company. The company of Thorin Oakenshield. Oh she so badly wanted to reread that book!

Grabbing up her oversized purse, which was really just an old diaper bag she used for outings now, she motioned for the group to follow her. She could hear them talking amongst themselves, parts of it she caught, them wondering if she was trustworthy, which she understood, for she would feel the same if the situation was reversed. Bless the gods it wasn’t! Thinking back on the world she had seen in the movies, she repressed a shudder. Nope, she was happy living in a world where orcs simply didn’t exist. Listening still to the talk around her, she realized parts of the conversation were in a language she didn’t know. Of course, the dwarves had their own language, everyone in Middle Earth did. She didn’t recall the name of it though, but looked back at the two speaking it. The one with the hat, Bo---Bo… Bofur! Right, and the one with an axe in his head. However did he survive!? And how was he not suffering from metal poisoning, or any other infections?! Chalking it up to dwarven immunity, she let it go. One more thought to address later.

Bofur caught Piper looking over at them and he smiled, “Ah, my cousin, Bifur, was just wondering… what’s a truck?”

The whole of the company fixed their attention on Piper, and she nearly stumbled then, not used to being the center of attention. This was why she had found a way to work from home. “U-uh… it’s well… it’s like a cart… without horses… it’s got a motor, uhm… an engine… machine thing that powers it.” There were many looks of curious interest, and she hoped they wouldn’t get too curious and take it apart when she wasn’t looking or something of that nature. Instead she pointed ahead to her pickup truck. It was her dad’s old truck, with a canopy on the back, the windows tinted. She had used it many times for short camping excursions, sleeping in the back instead of a tent. “Okay, so some ground rules, no bouncing around in it, okay? Makes steering hard.” Hauling her cousin’s pack of large dogs around for a week while her cousin was out of town had taught her that. “So, here’s the plan, since I don’t really have anything read to feed a whole herd of dwarves.”

“HERD?!” A few voices objected.

She turned over her shoulder and raised a brow, “You do look like one.” That seemed to leave a few grumbles, but even the members of the company had to relent that she was right. “Like I said, a whole herd of dwarves and one hobbit, so we’ll be picking up some food. Which means seeing people. Probably we’ll fit most of you in the back, the windows are tinted, so unless you’re right up against them, no one should notice you. People up front, let me do the talking.” “Aye, lass, that’s wise.” Balin said, quickly before anyone else could object. He knew his kin were a stubborn lot, and could be boisterous and often spoke before thinking. “We’ll do what you ask.”

And so it was that Piper Janet Morgan found herself loading up thirteen dwarves and one hobbit into her truck. Thorin, Balin, Fili and Kili sat in the cab with her, the two boys relegated to the back, on either side of Riordan’s booster seat, and the king and his advisor in the front with her. Everyone else was put in the back. Bofur and Nori carefully kept Bilbo between them, setting him on the wheel well, so that he wasn’t squished in among the rest of the dwarves. Dwalin had his back to the cab, scowling as they were shut in. Bombur had taken a little help to get up onto the tailgate, and the woman was so very glad she hadn’t taken her cousin’s advice and put a lift kit on the truck. They’d never have gotten the rotund dwarf up there!

After explaining the seat belts, Piper started the engine, and waited a second to let her little herd adjust. Then they rolled out. Fili and Kili were plastered to their windows, and as much as he tried to keep his image up, Thorin was quite the same. Balin, seated in the center, had to spread his legs to keep from being hit in the knee by the stick shift. He watched as she piloted the vehicle, asking questions now and then about it, which he was quite pleased to find she gladly answered. He was aware, at times that she was keeping it simple, and he knew he wouldn’t understand all of it she didn’t.

“Momma, can we have music?” Riordan asked, after a moment of being bored, because his two seatmates were ignoring him. Though his question got Kili to look back at them.

“No, not right now, Rio. Later okay? I wanna be able to talk to Balin.” Piper explained to him, glancing at the child-mirror she had clipped on her visor. “Why don’t you read one of your books, okay?”

“Okay…” the boy sighed, but reached into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him, pulling out a book about horses.

It wasn’t long until Fili had leaned in to look at it with him, it was mostly pictures, but a few simple words. He could recognize the type as being what he knew as Westron, but it was so uniform, he wondered how it had been written so neatly. As he listened to the boy reading, struggling with a few words, he smiled and quietly helped the lad. “Gallop.”

“The horse can… gallop.” Riordan repeated, and looked up with a grin, then went to the next page. “The horse can jump!”

The ride to the sole Pizza Hut in town went this way, Balin asking questions, Thorin studying the world around them, Kili looking at all the buildings with awe, and Fili reading a child’s book with Riordan, and the rest of the company bouncing around in the back.

“You’ll never fit in wearing those clothes though…” Piper mused to Balin as they pulled out of the parking lot. He and Thorin had been charged with holding the stacks of pizza boxes, which everyone agreed smelled delicious, since they wouldn’t fit in the backseat with the boys. Balin had quickly surmised that left in the back with the others, there would be none left when they got to Piper’s place.

“We have no other clothing, I’m afraid.” Balin shook his head. “We’ll just have to make do.”

“Mmm, no.” Piper shook her head, “We can get some clothes to fit you. There’s a thrift shop in town that sells second hand clothes, and if nothing there fits, then I know a good store to get decent priced stuff.”

“We have only a little coin ourselves yet.” Balin said with some uncertainty. “I doubt we could afford to buy ourselves new wardrobe just yet.”

Piper shook her head again, turning them down a different street. “Wouldn’t matter, our currency isn’t the same. Don’t worry, I have plenty enough for some new clothes for you guys. I do actually earn quite a bit myself.”

“What is it you do?” Thorin was the one to speak up then, having been listening to the conversation.

“I’m… well, I… see there’s uh…” Piper fumbled, trying to figure out how to explain what it was to be a programmer. “Okay so, we have a lot of uhm, technology, very advanced machines that run on… data, uh, information and it’s all written up in a certain language that these computers, the machines, can understand. It’s really complex, in a way, and… well I write that, and fix errors in it.” She frowned, knowing she wasn’t doing very good at this. “It’s a necessity, everything runs on code now, so it’s a good paying job.”

“It must be hard to explain, we have nothing of the like.” Balin said with a reassuring smile. He was also sneaking one of the pizza boxes open, having found the side that admitted such, and he peered at the food. “What is this again?” He asked, half to give her something easier to talk about, and half because the smell of the food was overpowering his senses and his stomach was rumbling. “PIZZA!” Riordan cheered, “Pizza pizza pizza!”

“Inside voice, young man.” Piper chastised, “It’s flatbread, with sauce and cheese and toppings. Also it’s Rio’s favorite.”

“I gathered that,” The old dwarf chuckled merrily.

In the bed of the truck, everyone was sniffing and mumbling in anticipation of whatever that was the smelled so good.

“So she’s go’ a decent job, an’ she’s go’ ‘nough to feed us!” Gloin mused, “Sounds like a nice lass!”

“You’re just thinking with your stomach,” Nori said with a smug grin. “Sounds like we’re getting new clothes too.” He turned to look over at his friend with the hat, and saw a strange melancholy on his face. That was odd. But soon they had turned onto a rougher road, that wasn’t made of the strange packed rock stuff, and their attention turned to keeping themselves in their spots, and not being impaled upon their weapons.He and Bofur had their arms clasped in front of Bilbo, after the hobbit had nearly been shot off his perch.

“Slow it down, will ya!?” Barked Dwalin, as he grasped the lip of the truck bed tightly. “Crazy woman is gonna be the death of us!”

However, they were at their destination soon enough, all marveling they had traveled so far in such a short period. And they looked up at the tall house before them. It was two stories tall, and though they couldn’t see it, it had a full basement as well.

“C’mon in, and we’ll get you fed, then I can pop back for some clothes at the shop.” Piper said, getting out of her door. “Ah, Thorin, Balin, would you two be willing to go back to town with me, you can help make sure I buy the right sizes.” “Of course, lass.” Balin smiled, handing her the stack of pizzas so he could get out of the tall truck. Thorin managed to jump down without losing any of his load. And the boys were out, having figured out how to unbuckle Riordan too, following the boy to the door while his mother opened the hatch and let down the tailgate to let the others out. “Be happy to help.” “Lets have PIZZA!” Riordan squealed in delight, getting cheers from the two princes at his side.

NEXT CHAPTER

[iamthechocobabe]

We All Have Battle Scars

Maybe I have all the originality of an off brand twinkie. Or maybe I am decent. 

Meh. 

This one’s a little long because I want to do the angst. Am I good at angst? I has no idea. Meh meh meh. 

AU based on: We Intertwined

We All Have Battle Scars

~Chapter 3~

Word Count: 2,886

~Chapter 3~

"How long have you been in the Crownsguard?" Wiz asked the four boys, particularly the blonde one. 

When Wiz saw the soulmate mark and realized this boy was his daughter's soulmate, he had to know everything about this boy, to make sure that his daughter would be treated right. It wasn't unheard of to have people reject their soulmates and Wiz was determined that if this kid even gave the hint of being a jerk, Wiz would toss him out on his ass before he could say 'Chocobutter'. 

'Chocobutter', Wiz thought. 'That's a good idea...' 

Wiz heard the other three answer, but it was the blonde boy's answer that he was focused on. "About two years now-I completed my training just before we left the Crown City," 

"And what were you doing before the Crownsguard?" 

It was like that for about ten minutes-Wiz would ask the four of them a question but only focus on the blonde boy, Prompto. 

Prompto Argentum; he grew up in the Crown City, he loved dogs and Chocobos, he hated celery, his weapon of choice was a gun, he loved a lot of punk rock and heavy metal bands, his vest had a bunch of catchy slogans for said bands. 

He seemed almost childish and very outgoing, he was at ease with Wiz's constant questions and answered them to the best of his ability, though Wiz could tell Prompto was starting to get uncomfortable by all the questions. 

"So, you've known each other for awhile?" Was Wiz's new question; the other three had realized that Wiz wasn't talking to them and was just looking at their phones, now bored. 

Prompto scratched the back of his neck, where his soulmate mark was. "Yeah, I've known Noctis since we were kids..." 

Wiz wanted to know what Prompto thought of soulmates, but lacked the conversational introduction to ask; he felt like Prompto scratching the back of his neck was a good conversation starter as any. "Noticed you have a soulmate mark on the back of your neck," 

Prompto blushed a little and lowered his hand. "Yeah, you noticed that?" 

"Hard to miss," Wiz crossed his legs and folded his arms, unknowingly giving a slightly threatening look. "Not a lot of people waiting around for 'soulmates' these days...they mostly think it's garbage," 

Prompto shrugged at that statement. "I guess...I mean, I've dated a few times, and they obviously weren't my soulmate," 

Wiz felt a little disappointed that Prompto's attitude was casual towards soulmates, but told himself not to worry; Gayle wasn't Wiz's first girlfriend, after all. He had a hard time believing the 'soulmate' thing when he was in college, but when he met Gayle shortly after purchasing the Outpost, he fell in love. 

Wiz wanted nothing more than to have his daughter fall in love, but he had to make sure it was with the right person. 

"Have me a soulmate mark as well," Wiz observed and pointed to his foot. "Shape of an eye, was how I met Alaea's mother," 

"How long have you two been together?" 

Wiz went ahead and answered; he really felt no need to lie about his past with his soulmate, though it still stung a little to think about. He instead used it as a cautionary tale to help young ones realize not to jump right away into a relationship with your soulmate, like Wiz had with Gayle. "She walked out on us when Alaea was four-a few weeks before Alaea's accident," 

Prompto gaped a little but shut his mouth after a few seconds. "I'm sorry...no one should ever have to deal with that," 

Wiz shrugged. "It's alright-I had an ideal person before I met Alaea's mother and she fit the mold perfectly..." Wiz felt like now was his chance, so he took a deep breath to ask the inevitable. "What do you think of your soulmate?" 

"I haven't met them yet," 

"I mean, when you do meet them-what do you imagine about them? About what they look like?" 

This question was actually common; those who had soulmate marks were always dreaming about their soulmates and imagined what they would look like and unknowingly began constructing extremely high expectations. This was why soulmate rejecting was a lot more common. 

Prompto sat back in his chair and tapped his temple, thinking. "I'm not really picky...but there is something I always wanted my soulmate to have, even when I was a kid," 

"You never told us this," the dark-haired one, Noctis, said while looking up from his phone. 

"It's embarassing," Prompto blushed a little but continued. "I always imagined my soulmate to have a...a beautiful smile?" 

Gladiolus chuckled and punched Prompto in the shoulder, teasing him. "Weak," 

"It's true," Prompto argued. "I mean, I'm not asking for perfect teeth or anything...I just want them to be really and truly happy when they smile, that they mean every smile they give. I want to feel like I'm the luckiest person in the world when my soulmate chooses to smile at me," Prompto was now completely red, even his arms and hands. "I know it sounds stupid..."

"Nothing wrong with that at all," Wiz observed and breathed a small sigh of relief. 

He wasn't the kind of kid who wanted his soulmate to be a drop dead super model-he was realistic. This meant that he wasn't going to jump into a relationship head first when he discovered his soulmate. 

Wiz figured it could be worse. 

Alaea breathed in the leftover steam from the shower, feeling her tense muscles loosen due to the mix of steam, hot water and peach scented soap. After such a difficult day dealing with two difficult parties at the Outpost and stressing about how they were going to be able to pay bills with the Chocobos not wanting to come out of their pens, Alaea needed a hot shower to wash all the filth from the day off. 

After changing into her casual clothes of a baggy beige sweater, jeans and sneakers, Alaea began to head outside to remind her dad to sign the papers about canceling the plans to put in the expansion for the resturant. It had been Alaea's idea, but after the Chocobos started refusing to come out of their pens, people quit coming, which was quickly beginning to dry up the Thorin's savings. 

It wouldn't be long before they would have to start selling Chocobos to make up the difference and if the Behemoth wasn't taken care of after that? 

Alaea put on a jacket with a hoodie and went outside to see her dad talking to the four Crownsguard’s who had come earlier in the day and were sitting outside the caravan. The scarred one made Alaea feel a bit more comfortable, but nothing could ever get her to truly relax about her scar. 

Alaea couldn't help but feel weird at the group, more specifically the blonde one with eyes that were the color of the sky. When Alaea first saw him outside the Outpost, she felt a sense of familiarity and wondered if they had met. But after thinking about it for awhile, she couldn't place him, so she decided that he must have one of those 'familiar faces' and left it at that. 

But now Alaea was noticing how he wouldn't stop staring at her and it was making her uncomfortable. People tended to stare at her scar, but usually when she would make eye contact, they would look away. The blonde boy would look away when Alaea met his eyes, but eventually, she could feel his eyes again, staring at her, watching her every move. Had he never seen a burn scar before? The muscly guy had a few nasty scars of his own, Alaea thought that might make him realize it was rude to stare. 

It was starting to piss her off. 

Alaea approached the group and she could hear her dad talking to the group, more specifically, the blonde one. "So, when did you join the Crownsguard?" 

"Right after I graduated-in fact, I completed my training right before we headed for Altissia," the boy explained. 

The guy seemed the very definition of young and wild and free, with hair that looked like it cost 500 gil to do and a light boyish type voice. Alaea didn't even realize it when she started referring him as Bongo in her mind, because he reminded her of one of the Chocobos on the Outpost. 

"So, what does being in the Crownsguard entail, anyway?" Wiz asked. 

"It's kind of like a military service-" The muscly one with a scar tried to answer, seemingly having more experience in that department, but her father interrupted him. 

What was her dad doing?

"Fancy camera you've got there," Wiz said-why was her father giving Bongo the third degree? "What kind of pictures do you take?" 

"Just...any pictures, really," Bongo explained; he seemed a little put off by the intense interrogation. "I take pictures of whatever I feel like, mostly of my friends, sometimes of wild life. I love grabbing shots when we're fighting because they tend to look super cool," 

"You don't take any pictures of anything...inappropriate...do you?" 

"Oh, Gods, dad," Alaea came up and smacked the back of her dad's head. "Did you seriously just ask that? They're gonna think you're a pervert and that you want to get in on the action," 

"They don't think I'm a pervert!" Wiz insisted and looked at the blonde boy. "Do you think I'm a pervert, boy?" 

Bongo's eyes were now wide and darted from Alaea to Wiz quickly, looking like he wasn't sure which one was gonna kill him first. "Uh, no, no sir!" 

"See, what'd I tell ya?" Wiz pulled a lawn chair close to the table and gestured for Alaea to sit while looking at the rest of the group. "This here's my daugther, Alaea," 

"I only needed to tell you something," Alaea declined the offer to sit. She let her still damp hair naturally fall to shield the left side of her face, a force of habit she had developed in high school. "Hi," 

"Gladiolus," the muscly nodded in Alaea’s direction and the guy with glasses introduced himself as 'Ignis' and even stood up to shake her hand. 

The one with dark hair just raised his hand at her as a form of hello, apparently really into a game on his phone. "Noctis," 

"N-Noctis..." Alaea said while staring at him and quickly put two and two together. "You mean-" 

"PromptoArgentum," Bongo practically thrust his hand into Alaea's face and said his name so fast that Alaea had a hard time putting the words together. 

"Uh...nice to meet you," Alaea took Prompto's hand awkwardly and looked at her dad. "Can I talk to you real quick?" 

"Sure thing-be right back," Wiz stood up and followed Alaea away from the group so Alaea could talk about the papers and their financial situation that was starting to dwindle without the ears of four strangers. 

"Dad, you need to sign the papers about canceling the expansion plans to the restaurant," 

"Yeah, in a minute, Chocobee," Wiz said. 

Alaea noticed Prompto staring at her again, so she met his eyes to get him to look away and turned back to her dad. "Dad, they're gonna start the day after tomorrow if you don't sign those papers and get them in the mailbox tonight," 

"I know, Ali, I'll sign them," 

"Why put it off if you're just gonna forget? If the guys don't get it tomorrow, they're gonna start renovating and want to charge us for it and you know we can't afford it," 

Wiz looked at the group as they all shifted uncomfortably at the argument that was brewing, though they couldn't seem to hear what it was about. "Come on, Chocobee, is this really the time?" 

"If it means saving the Outpost, then yes, it is always the time-we've already got that stupid Behemoth causing chaos, we don't need a bunch of carpenters demand we pay them for something we can't afford,"

"Ali, someone's gonna take care of that daemon sooner or later, alright? I already sent three letters to Maldacio Hunter HQ-" 

“'Someone's gonna take care of it?' Okay, dad, when?" Alaea noticed Prompto staring at her again and this time, she glared at him. He quickly averted his gaze to his phone while blushing slightly. 

Alaea turned back to her dad. "Multiple hunters have gone after this thing and it's still here! I think we need to start thinking of a plan B before we go broke," 

"'Plan B'? What's your 'Plan B', Ali?" Wiz was beginning to raise his voice and quickly lowered it when others began looking. "What, go lure it out of the valley? How do you plan on doing that without getting yourself killed?" 

"Daemons eat, don't they? Maybe if we got some food-" 

"Dammit, Ali, you're trying to solve a problem you know nothing about! You don't even know if daemons eat or not!" 

"At least I'm thinking of something! What are you doing besides sitting on your ass and grilling a bunch of kids you don't know anything about?" 

Wiz held out his hand. "Swear jar," 

"Seriously, dad, not now," Alaea noticed Prompto staring at her again-this boy needed to figure out how scars worked and soon or Alaea was gonna kill this boy. Alaea glared at Prompto and gave him the scowliest face she could muster, making his blush increase as he averted his gaze to his hands. 

"What I'm doing is better than going out there and trying to get myself killed!" Wiz and Alaea were now beginning to yell, so angry that they weren't caring who heard them. "You think you can take on a Behemoth? Alaea, you started crying when you killed a cockroach! I'm not trying to insult you, sweetie, I'm trying to tell you that there are some things people are just not cut out for and for you, bounty hunting is one of them!" 

"Oh, fuck you, dad!" Alaea yelled. "You don't know what I'm capable of! I'm not the same helpless little girl who would cry whenever someone would point at her face! I'm not saying I can take on a Behemoth, but I can at least try to get it out of the valley! I'd rather us not go bankrupt, thank you!" 

Out of the corner of her eye, Alaea noticed that Prompto was staring and she felt something snap. She was far too angry to reason that he was probably watching the fight and wondering if he should make popcorn and instead focused on how he'd been staring at her all night and that she was sick of it and was going to teach this kid a thing or two about staring. 

Alaea marched angrily to Prompto and shoved his camera that was on the table into his hands. "Just take a fucking picture, it'll last longer! Seriously, you've never seen someone with a scar before? Do you stare at this guy-" Alaea pointed at the muscly one and realized she'd forgotten his name. "What was your name?" 

"Gladiolus," 

"Right, Gladiolus. Do you stare at Gladiolus as much as you stare at me?! Do you take pictures while he sleeps or something? Are you people from Insomnia so self-righteous and entitled that you've never been taught basic manners? Well, let me give you your first etiquette lesson-STARING IS FUCKING RUDE. Get the fuck over yourself and quit. staring. at. ME!!!" 

Prompto sat there, stunned that Alaea had been screaming by the end, but she didn't care as she stormed away and slammed the door to the house. She ran to her room and slammed the door even harder than her front door, slumping against it and sliding down to crawl into a ball before letting the tears loose. 

Alaea's bedroom was the safest place she knew-it reminded her of who she was and who she wanted to be. The Chocobo souveneirs told people that no matter where she was, her home was the Outpost and with the Chocobos. But the pictures and novelty items bought from Lastallum that showed far away cities and places in the far corners of Eos told people that Alaea was a girl for adventure. She had never left the Outpost, though she wanted to travel the world, learn all kinds of languages and taste a dish from every corner of the world. 

But something always held her back and Alaea knew it was her scar. 

Her whole life, she had been treated like a freak, a weirdo who was meant to be mocked by society. She had been belittled, cast aside for better equipment consistently, and all because she had a scar. People treated her differently and she was sick of it and Alaea decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. 

Alaea knew she didn't have the physical capacity to take on a Behemoth, she wasn't stupid. But she knew she was smart, at least smarter than most. If she could track the Behemoth, watch it's patterns, maybe she could figure out a way to get it to leave the valley or lure it into a trap or something. 

Alaea wasn't about to let her father's life's work fall down the drain over some stupid ass daemon who was too chicken to approach the damn ranch. 

[i-did-not-mean-to]

School AU - Chapter 2

So, just to be thoroughly done with this experiment, here's Bilbo's POV of the same scene.

There it is :D It was worth a celebratory little story...:)

Love you all <3

“Go to school”, they said, “It will be fun”, they said.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at his own naïveté. Of course, it would not be fun to change schools in the middle of the year.

The headmaster, a fearsome old man with a face like a death mask, waved him out of the office before he could even protest; they had decided to put him into a class with all the other “maladjusted” kids.

He was not maladjusted; he was merely new in this school.

“You will be fine.” The gentle old man, his headteacher as far as he had understood, promised him and the mere fact that this was the kind of thing he needed to be told, did nothing to ease his nervousness.

“They got a new teacher already today and now you, really, what an exciting day for the class.” The man went prattling on and on. Bilbo had no interest in being a novelty and he felt increasingly like he was a sacrifice or chum about to be thrown into the cold water, figuratively, physical education was not on the program for a few days at least.

Small mercies.

The headteacher rapped his knuckles against a closed door and then just shoved his head in without waiting for the teacher to accept his brusque announcement. He informed her, quite casually Bilbo found, of the fact that there was a new student and shoved him into the classroom before just leaving.

Bilbo looked at the woman in front of him; her eyes were dreamy as if she had been torn from a particularly pleasant reverie and her mouth curved into a warm smile almost immediately.

She made an off-hand comment about how all the students were new to her and Bilbo felt less alone instantaneously; he had been afraid to find himself confronted with a hermetic group of people who had all grown up together and who had no interest in getting to know a pudgy youngster who talked too much.

The headteacher had called her “Kira” and Bilbo had already noticed that they went by their first names here, so he greeted her as politely as he could and enquired if he had not missed too much of her class.

It would be hard enough to stitch together what he had seen in his last school and what was expected here, he didn’t want to start by lagging behind right away.

“I’ll fill you in.” A voice called out and he flinched. Again, Miss Kira’s presence was a comfort and a rock, for she twitched as well, but probably not for the same reasons. Except if she was a pervert; she didn’t look like one.

Turning his head ever so slowly, Bilbo searched for the face that went with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard: deep and slightly gruff, it had rippled down Bilbo’s spine like a current of silk and pure electricity.

Please, let him be ugly as sin, please, he begged his guiding stars. He did not want another debacle, not on the first day of school, not in a new environment.

Of course, that had been too much to ask and the face belonging to the voice turned out to be just as charming. Figures!

Bilbo had thought of himself as a rather lucky kid for the longest time, until he realised that it was voices and faces like the one just a mere stone’s throw away from him that set his insides on fire.

Another boy was sitting next to “the voice” and he was now ousted with a hearty shove while Bilbo tried to shuffle those feet he hadn’t quite grown into yet along the narrow empty space between the benches. It would just serve him right if he landed straight on his face in front of that…being.

He looked much more like a man already than a boy, a fact the parts of Bilbo he had definitely grown into already noticed with vivid interest. Feeling the treacherous heat crawl up his neck and into his face, Bilbo approached the bench, getting his feet tangled in his rucksack as he sat down on the now empty chair.

The chair was disgustingly warm, but he didn’t mind; he couldn’t even tell with certainty that his own body was not on fire in this very second and he was the one making the scratched plastic melt.

Oh Lord, his own ass was the last thing he wanted to think about now when that face was so close to him that he could smell the fresh, slightly zesty smell of the dark hair surrounding it. Good, he had been mocked mercilessly in his old school for the way he wore his own hair, but it was really nothing compared to those luscious, dark waves…

BILBO! He called himself to order. His polite instincts kicked in and he rearranged his slack jaw into what he hoped would be a pleasant smile.

The boy frowned at him, a mask of guarded suspicion, and Bilbo’s heart immediately mellowed. Here was someone who had known hardship, he knew instinctively, and it made him redouble the brightness of his smile. Had he ever seen eyes that blue? They were hard and glistening like shards of ice, but Bilbo felt that they might warm up to summer lakes in time.

Not on your first day of school, he tried to remind himself, but it was already too late; his mouth had run dry, and his stomach twitched with that all too familiar twinge of admiration. He was a boy who knew simple pleasures: a sunny meadow, a good meal…and a face like that.

Clearing his throat, the other boy shoved over a piece of paper, filled with chicken scratch writing. As soon as he pried his watering eyes off the boy’s face though to glance at it, he retracted it again, slamming a solid forearm down on the page. “Might have some spelling mistakes.” The boy mumbled. Ah, the idiot class, Bilbo remembered, more interested than ever.

“My name is Bilbo.” He spoke gently, putting one finger on the edge of the page and trying to pull it loose from under the massive bulk of the other one’s arm. “Thorin.” He rumbled, sighing a little. “Really.”

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be your name?” Bilbo chuckled. “Mistress Kira didn’t believe me.” He explained in a low voice, finally letting go of the sheet and allowing Bilbo to read through the notes.

There were indeed one or two hasty mistakes, but Bilbo was astonished to find that Thorin seemed to have chronicled the class faithfully. “If you don’t…if…” He stammered and Bilbo looked up, thankful for the quality of the notes because he knew that he was not processing any of the explanations Thorin was providing in that low voice.

He sounded like rough skin on silk sheets, Bilbo thought, another painfully inappropriate thought.

“Hmmm, thank you, Thorin. These are some good notes.” Bilbo mumbled hazily, his heart giving a sudden jerk when a tiny, thin-lipped, careful smile started tugging at the corners of Thorin’s mouth. Pride and awkwardness mingled on his face and Bilbo was quick to reactivate his sunniest smile in return.

Mistress Kira seemed to have given up on her teaching meanwhile; she was engaged in a low conversation with an awkward blonde boy who seemed to have been drained of all colour. The burly boy who had made room for Bilbo said in a challenging tone that nobody liked them, and Bilbo felt Thorin stiffen beside him.

As he looked over, he could see those beautiful eyes grow ever harder and colder in genuine fright and, when they snapped for a second into his direction, Bilbo felt a shiver of apprehension rustle through him like the North wind blew the leaves off the barren branches.

Looking up, Bilbo once again felt like Miss Kira was a godsend, for he could read the same horrified incomprehension in her eyes that he felt surging within his chest. She looked positively indignant when the class challenged her on not screaming at them, and Bilbo could see her hands clench and unclench rhythmically.

“How do you feel about dwarves?” Bilbo whispered to Thorin to distract the boy from the pain setting his gaze aflame.

“Dwarves? Yeah, they’re cool.” Thorin tried to hide his confusion, but failed miserably, which made Bilbo chuckle.

“Thorin and I will do a presentation about dwarves!” Bilbo announced to the teacher who nodded, slowly, her gaze heavy and warm on their faces. Bilbo knew that she had understood his meaning: I am here, and I am ready to roll up my sleeves and be a part of this.

Thorin’s head whipped around, his eyes huge now and, for a second, Bilbo could see behind the carefully closed-off façade of a slightly constipated and very ill-tempered young man; he saw the kind of desperate hopefulness that never failed to break hearts. Had Miss Kira seen that as well?

“Will we?” Thorin asked. “We shall, your notes tell me that you’re a smart fellow. You can come over to my house if you want to and we can work on it…or…we can go to the library.” Bilbo could have swallowed his own tongue in embarrassment; he had been overzealous once again.

“I’d invite you to mine, but…there’s a lot of people.” Thorin replied with a small chuckle that betrayed discomfiture but also a good deal of genuine humour. How interesting it would be to see more of that, Bilbo thought.

“Sure, as you wish.” Bilbo shrugged. He caught Miss Kira’s eyes and realised that he had stared at Thorin with maybe a tad too much intensity…somehow, he felt like Miss Kira saw everything. As it should be. She was a teacher after all.

She was not teaching though, she was observing the class with calm, interested eyes, trying to get a feeling for the children within it. Only, they were barely children, Bilbo was almost certain that he was one of the younger ones.

It was a small-town school, maybe they mixed different ages, he did not know, but it felt strange, nonetheless.

He was curious who that Mister Smaug had been and why he could sense a hint of pain in his classmates’ voices when they spoke about him. Miss Kira had picked up on that as well, he saw, as her own eyes darkened, and her lips quivered.

Healthy anger flashed in her eyes when she repeated that this man was gone. I am here, Bilbo heard between the lines. She was. And so was he.

Bilbo wracked his brains to find something witty and funny to say to that wondrous boy next to him who had relapsed into brooding silence, as if the mere mention of their former teacher was enough to ruin his mood.

“Did he really hate you?” Bilbo found himself asking and immediately, he was met with a withering stare.

“Yes…Things have happened and my family and I…we’re not the best regarded in this town.” Again, that flash of mortification that made his face look like it was carved from stone.

“Well, I am a newcomer and I’ll make up my own mind.” Bilbo said reassuringly. “And I don’t feel like Miss Kira hates you.” He added with a soft smile.

“Yet.” A resignation too old and deep in one so young hit Bilbo square in the chest and his heart gave another painful twitch; had he been less mindful of common rules of decency, he would have put his small, pudgy hand on top of the broad, callused one resting just a few inches away.

A knock interrupted their conversation and another teacher rushed in. He was impossibly tall and intimated that he had been worried that Miss Kira had been slaughtered by the class. Weird, Bilbo thought, as far as he had understood, it had been the class who had been subjected to the abuse of their former teacher and not the other way around.

He had been so focused on Thorin’s shy smiles and overwhelming beauty that he had only half-listened to accounts of a damaged car. What was a damaged car compared to a damaged soul?

Even though she was considerably shorter than her colleague, Miss Kira interposed herself between him and the class, shielding them with her own body and this instinct of a woman reminded Bilbo so much of his own brave mother that it made him miss her even more.

“Asshole.” Thorin muttered under his breath with barely held-back indignation.

“Miss Kira didn’t believe him. Listen, she volunteered to stay here.” Bilbo tried to assuage the flaming, helpless anger in the other boy’s face. “They’ll not keep her for long if she’s to be exposed to us all the time.” Thorin prophesied darkly.

Bilbo had no idea what had happened here, but, hitherto, Miss Kira seemed perfectly fine. She was presently reading a book and chuckling to herself.

“Mistress Kira…” The shy blonde boy handed her a drawing he had made, and she gushed over it for a few minutes, slowly drawing out confessions from him: he was a good athlete, swift and enduring, but he was nowhere near Thorin’s or Dwalin’s level when it came to brute force.

Dwalin must be that other tall boy, Bilbo thought, eyeballing the dark-haired grump with interest.

“Do you not intend to give us something to do?” That very same person then asked the teacher gruffly.

“Can you not find something for yourself to do?” She gave back pleasantly and turned back to her book, but her fingers gripped the cover a little tighter than before.

“He didn’t mean no offense, Mistress. It’s just…Mister Smaug didn’t like to see us idle.” The smaller boy in the last row provided an explanation. Bilbo thought that he looked incredibly gentle and maybe just a little shy.

“I shall teach you during my teaching hours and I can teach you now if that is your desire. Nonetheless, I think we should go out into the courtyard and get some fresh air. As we’re all bound to be here, we might as well have some fun.” Miss Kira closed her book and shoved it back into her satchel before getting up.

“You want to take us out?” The blonde boy, Legolas, seemed thunderstruck.

“You’re almost grown-ups, are you a flight risk?” Miss Kira cocked one eyebrow and pointed at the door.

“Bilbo and me, we’ll see how we fare with you lot, won’t we?” She turned to him, and Bilbo blushed again, hadn’t that been his exact thought?

He nodded enthusiastically and sniggered when she gave him a discreet wink before tilting her head into Thorin’s direction. “Why don’t you all tell me something about you?” She asked.

Silence.

Bilbo was not about to tell her that he was an orphan and that he had changed schools after a deplorable incident with another boy at his last placement. Only a few months more and he’d be officially emancipated and grown-up.

Maybe, he’d leave school and everything behind and start a new life somewhere else…

“Why don’t you tell us how you ended up in this miserable place to try to teach those everyone has given up on?” Dwalin hissed with unveiled cockiness.

So, that was why he had been put in this class, Bilbo thought, the headmaster thought him damaged beyond repair.

The teacher seemed to hesitate, then she said quietly: “Things have happened…and it is true that I have not chosen you, but I’ll keep you.” She smiled. “If they offer you a normal class, you’ll say: Nay, I’ll stick with the dumbasses?”

Clearly, Dwalin was not about to believe her and again, Bilbo could feel Thorin tense up beside him as they stepped into the courtyard and moved towards a big tree in the middle.

“No, I will not say anything of that sort. I’ll say thank you very much, but no thank you.” Miss Kira’s voice was sharp-edged now. “And why is that?” The blustering air seemed to falter and Dwalin looked a little deflated now.

“Because I don’t hate you and no matter how much you try to get me to, Master Dwalin, I shan’t.” She shrugged and sat down against the tree, taking out her book again and continuing to read as if nothing had happened.

“She’s something.” Bilbo whipped around, had Thorin actually laughed? Yes, yes, he could clearly see a row of white teeth between the stretched lips that looked so sinfully inviting to him.

He also could see the rest of the boy now, even though looking at it was the single worst idea he had ever had in his whole life it seemed to him.

Thorin was tall, a good deal taller than himself and he looked as solid as the tree their teacher was leaning against now.

“All brawn, no brains.” Thorin muttered when he caught the appraising gaze of the new student.

“Yeah, that’s what you want people to believe so they’d feel less intimidated, huh?” Bilbo replied automatically before he could reign in his loose tongue. Thorin stiffened, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly before admitting: “No, that’s what…”

“If you bring up that Smaug again.” Bilbo warned him and Thorin fell silent. Sitting down on the patch of lawn surrounding the tree, Bilbo patted the grass next to him and was pleasantly surprised when the other boy plopped down immediately, a little too close for comfort maybe.

“Miss Kira and me, we are thoroughly fed up with your former teacher already, aren’t we, Miss Kira?” Bilbo felt the need to make this clear and to stand up for his potential friend and definite crush.

“He sounds like a brute.” Miss Kira replied without looking up from her book, but Bilbo could see her mouth curl into a smile behind the pages.

“You know nothing about us.” Thorin mumbled under his breath, honest regret tinging his voice.

“Then tell me, what makes you all so terrible?” Bilbo gathered his courage and placed his open palm on the clenched fist of the boy sitting next to him. “I am just not nice. Blondie is shite at reading. Dwalin has brawls, quite a few of them. Bombur is just fat. Redhead is from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“You’re very nice.” Bilbo demurred, which got him a wide-eyed stare from Thorin. “You think so?”

Bilbo nodded. “Ah, we’re just the kind of people other self-respecting people don’t like to look at.” Dwalin interjected as he passed by with a wooden plank that had detached from one of the nearby benches.

“Look at?” Bilbo thought that maybe, they had switched codes and language somewhere in the middle of the conversation because he could not understand what was going on.

“We make people uncomfortable.” Thorin supplied softly, brushing his long hair out of his face and pressing his lips into a thin line. “Miss Kira, do you know what’s going on?” Bilbo asked helplessly, because yes, Thorin’s looks made him uncomfortable but certainly not in the way suggested here.

“No idea, never seen more handsome teenagers in my life.” Miss Kira replied disinterestedly, her eyes still glued to her book. “Ah, I am not alone then. Are we in an alternate universe?” Bilbo replied, happy to have at least one other person here who was not part of this grotesque play of innuendo and stubborn misbelief.

“Have you seen my father?” Legolas spluttered and then pointed miserably at his scrawny frame hanging from a tree branch. “I have, what does that matter?” Now, Miss Kira looked up, questioning.

“We’re just…” Ori sighed. “You’re “just” nothing at all; you are what you are and, as far as I am concerned, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Miss Kira said with an air of finality and returned her attention to her book.

When the bell rang, Thorin gathered up his things and made to leave.

Bilbo wondered if he should say something; sucking on his lip, he searched for the right combination of words that would sound casual but also express how grateful he was for the care the other boy had taken today.

“Do you want to walk with me?” Thorin asked a particularly nice pebble sitting right next to Bilbo’s right foot.

Bilbo waited for a few seconds to see if the pebble would reply, after all, in a world where people would NOT want to look at Thorin it was about as probable that pebbles were alive and capable of speech.

“Or not…see you tomorrow.” Thorin mumbled hastily and turned away.

“Wait, wait…” Bilbo called out, not taking the time to put on his rucksack which now slapped painfully against his legs as he hastened after the tall, retreating figure. “I do, I do.” He exclaimed breathlessly.

“There are not that many roads around here…so…” Thorin explained sheepishly as they walked along the main road.

“Hey, idiot!” A stunning girl caught up to them, slinging her arms around Thorin’s neck and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “How was the new teacher?” She asked as he slung his arm under her behind and lifted her apparently effortlessly up.

Mortification and a fierce jealousy rose in Bilbo. Of course, what had he expected? A boy that gorgeous would obviously have a girlfriend just as beautiful and boy oh boy, she was a marvel if ever Bilbo had seen one. Her hair was luscious and intricately braided and the way she laughed expectantly up at Thorin put the very sun to shame.

“We have a new student.” Thorin grumbled, still carrying the girl in one arm as if she weighed nothing at all.

Her radiant face turned to him, then edged sideways in a slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, he’s cute.” She half-whispered.

“Dís…” Thorin hissed warningly, and she lifted both her hands. “I’m just saying…Such a cute little nose and those warm, greenish eyes…” She purred into his ear.

Bilbo was scandalised to see Thorin pinch the girl in the thigh rather unceremoniously.

“Hi, I’m Dís.” She extended her hand to Bilbo over Thorin’s shoulder. Annoyance washed through Bilbo’s befuddled mind, not only was she stunning, no, she had to be nice and charming as well. So much for being a lucky boy.

“Bilbo…” He said, mustering up his polite smile that was just a tiny bit wobbly around the edges.

When he saw his street coming up, he muttered: “This is me. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend then, see you tomorrow.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.” The girl grinned and plopped heavily onto the pavement when Thorin just let go of her. “Ouch, you idiotic moron of a…” She hissed and brought her fist down on his upper arm, which had next to no effect at all on the sturdy limb.

“That piece of wood remotely resembling a human is my brother.” She explained to Bilbo, and he could not suppress the sudden relief that, no doubt, showed on his face if her broad smile was anything to go by.

“He certainly looks sculpted.” Bilbo sighed and then, realising that he had said that out loud, he hurried towards his street. To his utter dismay, other footfalls seemed to follow his hasty retreat.

Damn!

“Hey, new boy, Bilbo, wait…” The girl, Bilbo realised, her voice a song and her steps a flurry of featherlight touches on the stony ground. “Wait, wait…So, you think my grumpy brother is cute, yeah?”

Her arm snaked into the crook of his as she sauntered alongside him, grinning up at him as if they had been friends forever. “He’s not really very dumb, he just likes to pretend he is, so people leave him alone.” She chattered on.

“I had figured as much, yeah.” Bilbo murmured, overwhelmed by the intrusive curiosity of the young girl.

“Leave him alone, Dís.” Thorin barked from behind, that note of utter mortification and humiliation making his voice sound even rougher and deeper than before. “You think he’s cute?” The girl whispered confidingly now.

“He’s…yeah, he’s cute.” Bilbo stammered under his breath, unable to withstand the onslaught of her good-humoured questioning. Did it even matter? It was obvious, everyone could see how fucking gorgeous that boy was.

“Want to go have an ice-cream with me and that cute brother of mine?” She invited him.

Bilbo looked at the house where his elderly cousin was certainly already waiting for him and then back at that glorious new classmate who just stood a few paces away, shuffling his feet awkwardly and skewering his bouncing sister with glares. It was good to make new friends, Bilbo told himself, it was what his cousin had encouraged him to do and if those friends turned out to be the most contrarily grumpy, awkwardly shy and blindingly handsome boy and his sister, who would fault poor Bilbo for it?

“Yeah sure, let me just…” Bilbo just threw his rucksack into the front yard and let Dís lead him back up the road.

@lordoftherazzles So, there's the second chapter with a bit more hurt than anticipated and a tiny bit of pining...If you're looking for me, I'm buried alive somewhere in the forest :S