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kilikina34512 · 11 months ago

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Falling in Love Just a Little Bit

I found a moment to write something for a holiday and had it done on time! There's a first time for everything! It's short and small and not what I'd originally wanted to do for the day of love, but I worked with my real life demands and was able to create this, so I'm happy. I hope it makes you just as happy as it makes me.

This story is inspired by this TikTok. Not sure why this scene below is what popped in my head as I watched it, but I stopped trying to understand how my logic jumps around long ago. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

Pairing: Loki x f!OC (Astra)

Summary: The mortal Loki can't help but admire puts him unknowingly further under her spell.

Warnings: fluffy cute

Word Count: 854

Loki opened the door to his rooms at the tower and paused for a moment before continuing all the way in and closing the door silently behind him. Bracing against it, he crossed his arms and enjoyed the show in front of him with a smirk on his face. Astra, the housekeeper of the tower and a woman he was beyond enamored with, was dancing around his room. Despite the fact he couldn't hear the song she was listening to due to her headphones, he was enjoying her melodic voice as she belted the words to the song in her ears.

"Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way," she crooned as she bounced and swayed her hips to the beat only she could hear. It was then she spun and he couldn't fight the full smile that pulled at his lips as his heart tried to leap out of his chest. Her long hair that looked as if it was made of moonlight swung with her movements, revealing her pale, heart shaped face. Eyes he knew were a brown so deep it was almost black were closed as naturally pink lips moved to the lyrics. Letting his eyes trail down from there, he noticed something that had him both anxious and amused.

Lifted near her luscious lips was the pummel of his favorite dagger, the one who's pair sat resting on his desk across the room. With her small hand wrapped around the hilt, he stared as she used it the same way Loki had watched Stark wield the device they called a microphone at his parties. The God nearly launched himself over to take it from her, fearful she might accidentally hurt herself, but he held back. He had his magic, and if it appeared she was about to cause herself injury, he'd summon it to his own hand instead.

"And so I fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit. Everyday with someone new. I fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit," Astra continued, her voice just as hypnotizing as her body with is graceful sway. It was everything he could do to keep the heart eyes out of his expression. Her bouncing hips were enticing and he desired to rest his cold hands against them as he moved his body with her; a fantasy that he had many times. He'd wanted to tell her numerous times how he fancied her, but after what he'd done there years ago, he couldn't bring himself to. He, like with Mjolnir, wasn't worthy of her.

In the middle of the chorus she was singing, her eyes suddenly opened before she squealed. The jump she made had him following through on his safety measures, his dagger suddenly appearing in his hand. "What an interesting choice for a singing instrument, my little nightingale. Of all things in this room, you chose one of my favorite daggers." A bit of a stern look crossed his face as he continued, "A fairly unsafe choice, but I cannot say I was not entertained."

Pink that matched her shock-parted lips filled her cheeks and was spreading throughout her face, her embarrassment painted for any to see. "Oh gosh, Loki! I'm so sorry! I know I shouldn't have... I was just... I just get..." She couldn't seem to get the rest of her thought out, but this was not his first time peering unknowingly at the housekeeper. He'd watched Astra around the residential area of the tower since she'd started working for Stark. He knew there were times when the music seemed to capture her as if it had her in a trance. When that happened, he enjoyed seeing her grab whatever was nearby that fit into her hand and she'd swing, sway, bounce, or jump along to her singing. She always looked happier than he'd ever seen her when those moments happened, and he lived for spying on those moments.

"It is alright, dear," he comforted as he slowly stalked closer to her. "I do understand that you were enjoying the song you could hear. "It was quite fetching a sight you displayed. I only came to claim my book before reading in the sitting room." It was a lie, he'd planned to read in his room where he could be alone and undisturbed, but he would rather be bothered than disrupt her joyous daze the act of singing and dancing gave her.

With a snap of his fingers, he replaced the dagger in his hand with a novel from his shelf. "Have fun, little nightingale," he called as he turned on his heel and departed the room with a new memory to enjoy when he was away from her. What he missed when he left as Astra continued to hear the words "I fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit" in her ears was the longing in her gaze, the way her heart had sped up in his presence, or the thought about how true that one line was when it came to the God of Mischief in her eyes.

#loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fic #loki x ofc #kili stories #cute story #valentines day

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fellowshipofthefics · 8 months ago

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Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s), Ori (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Kíli/Tauriel Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Ori (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Kíli (Tolkien), Fíli (Tolkien), Thranduil (Tolkien), Tauriel (Hobbit Movies) Additional Tags: TSF 2024, Thorin's Spring Forge 2024, Crime story of sorts, Suspense, Romance, Eventual Romance, Investigations, Blood and Injury, Injury, Blood, Car Accidents, Pining, Denial, Bad Decisions Summary:

summary 10

For this year's TSF, I give you a little pseudo-crime story!

It all starts with the disappearance of an influential magnate with whom a young journalist was scheduled to have an interview. Utterly overwhelmed by the tense atmosphere in the little village, she is soon joined by her best friend who is very intrigued by the mysterious absentee mogul. A wild goose chase through corporate espionage, emotional constipation, and just general chaos ensues.

The art has been done by my dear friend Shrimpy. Let's all applaud her! <3

#hobbit #thorin oakenshield #ori #Thorin x ofc #ori x ofc #kili x tauriel #hobbit fic #i did not mean to

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distinguisheddwarffriend · 8 months ago

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Sooooo...

I wrote it?

At least the first meeting.

Uh, so I'mma request something because I really like your writing and want more of your wonderful Aragorn fics in my life. So, I was thinking some headcannons about what it would be like to date/be in a relationship with Aragorn before, during and/or after the fellowship? Thanks man, and take as long as you need!💕

A/N: I am STRUGGLING with sleepover requests, my own series (PS and DAKT) and some new stuff so I turned to my stack of ‘normal’ requests to try and write something different. Et voilà!

@katethewriter I took a lot longer than I should have with these and I’m so sorry! I’m leaning more towards the Hobbit era lately (I’m really turning into a Dwarf simp here), and I’m neglecting the fellowship members. Unforgivable!

I interpreted this as how your relationship would develop while on the quest to destroy the ring and you’re not actually together at the start of it. Also maybe slightly OOC Aragorn.

A/N 2: It has some nsfw hints (not much), I couldn’t help myself and it’s very unlike Aragorn I think but I’m not sorry. Also this turned out really long, I am sorry for that.

A/N 3: Just like my other headcanons, this doesn’t make much sense so best to simply ignore this. I really don’t know what this is... :)

Being In a Relationship With Aragorn On The Quest Would Go Like This:

Aragorn had met you in some seedy pub

Not his first choice to take shelter from the weather but after days and days of endless rain and trudging through mud it was almost nice to be there

at least he was able to dry his clothes and have a warm meal

he was surprised to see someone like you there

surprised but concerned too

for your wellbeing that is

every single person in that bar had his eyes on you the minute you moved

Aragorn had too but for entirely different reasons

at least that’s what he told himself

so the minute one of those drunk lads laid a hand on you he was on his feet

knight in shining armor ranger clothes

before he got to you, you had floored and knocked out your assailant, threatening the others they would suffer the same fate if they tried something similar

Aragorn stood frozen in place, completely mesmerized by you

and maybe a tad bit aroused too

the life of a ranger is very lonely after all

you winked at him and left the bar shortly after

Aragorn couldn’t get you out of his head

but what were the odds he would ever run into you again

he even returned to that godawful place a few times

a guy can hope right

you can imagine his surprise when he saw you in Rivendell

attending the secret council

he was jaw on the floor surprised

he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you

on the outside he was the cool ranger of the north, bringer of Hobbits, inventor of the Sexy But Still Rough Around The Edges Stare™

while on the inside he was f r e a k i n g o u t

because there you were, finally within reach

but then Frodo had to sacrifice himself

and Aragorn could not not go with him

he absolutely lost it when you volunteered as well

there was no way you were going to put your life on the line like that

you scoffed at his remark

wait did he said that out loud?

“I can handle myself just fine.”

Oh he knew that

Flashes of the bar fight filled his mind

it filled something else too 😏

so Aragorn had set himself a second goal

besides getting Frodo and the ring to Mordor he now vowed to keep you safe as well

and to make you his by the time you would arrive at Mordor

but we all know how smooth that will go do we

the first few days and weeks it went reasonably well

you have to read that as ‘he didn’t embarass himself in front of you’

because there was no progress at all on any other front

you seemed to prefer the company of the Hobbits over him or any other member of the fellowship

he tried to make conversation with you every time you walked near him

A+ for effort

when the Crebain flew over his instinct was to make sure Frodo (and Sam because those two were attached at the hip) was out of sight

after that he searched for you, but Legolas had already pulled you under the bushes with him

surely the feeling in his stomach was the fault of the Lembas bread

because Aragorn doesn’t get jealous

but then the same thing happened in Moria

you weren’t a fan of the dark and claustrophobic mines so he let you walk up front with Gandalf and Frodo near the light of Gandalf’s staff

with him right behind you of course

when the Orcs and Troll attacked, he tried to stay near you

keep an extra eye out for you, driving the Orcs away who were trying to get to you

it was you together with Legolas who defeated the troll, high fiving each other over a job well done

okay fine maybe Aragorn did get jealous this time

like he had done his best to protect you but did you notice?

then when Gandalf fell you surprisingly turned to him for comfort

leaving Legolas, Gimli and Boromir to comfort the Hobbits

take that Leaf Boi

even though it felt really good to hold you, he knew you couldn’t stay there

so he ordered everyone to get going, taking the lead

and then Lothlorien happened

a forest that was both magical and romantic

perfect setting for a love confession right

when he finally got you alone he chickened out at the last moment

because OF cOUrsE

luckily for him you did not

you almost knocked him over in your attempt to kiss him

he eagerly reciprocated the kiss though

no complaints there

but he also explained that even though he wanted this, the quest and Frodo had to come first

which you respected and understood, but you were also willing to test his resolve 👀

you didn’t tell the others

but they didn’t need an explanation, it’s not like you two were subtle

he held your hand whenever he could

Gimli couldn’t help but commenting on it, Aragorn explaining it was to prevent you from falling or tripping

“Lad, you’re sitting down in a boat...”

cue roaring laughter and flushed cheeks on Aragorn

although the fellowship supported your relationship they couldn’t help but tease Aragorn relentlessly

lots of sneaky forehead kisses

during the rest of the quest Aragorn did his best to keep you out of harm’s way

to your own frustration of course, you weren’t helpless or as fragile as he made you seem

you fought alongside Boromir when Uglúk shot him

they took Merry and Pippin and dragged you away from Boromir’s body

the one time Aragorn wasn’t at your side and you got kidnapped

you weren’t going to hear the end of this

needless to say Aragorn was indeed beside himself with worry

he couldn’t get a break

first Frodo gone, then Boromir shot and now it seemed he failed his promise to himself

enter brooding Aragorn

but he knew you were brave and could take care of yourself - you had repeated that countless times - so he was sure he was going to find you

AND HE DID

after three days of running with a dartling Elf and a wheezing Dwarf they bumped into Éomer and his horse gang

before he could ask Éomer if he saw you or the Hobbits, one of his riders jumped off their horse and made a beeline for him

Legolas notched an arrow and Gimli raised his axe but you simply shoved them aside and threw your arms around Aragorn

relieved kisses

the hug lasted several minutes until Legolas cleared his throat

oh right... audience

you shared a horse with Aragorn on the way to Edoras

while with King Théoden Aragorn kept an arm around your waist or a hand on the small of your back the entire time

as if he had to make sure you were still there

Éowyn who?

The Battle of Helm’s Deep was torture for Aragorn

he wanted to stay with you but you both knew you would be too distracted by each other

it took him a while to find you after the battle was won

few years of his life were lost in panic

but of course you were alright, already helping with the wounded

now it was his turn to sweep you off your feet

quite literally too

as the quest progressed, it became clear to Aragorn that he had to take up his rightful place as the King of Gondor when the time came

so during the victory feast after Helm’s Deep he took you outside for a walk

cue comments and whistling from Gimli

but Aragorn only wanted to talk to you

to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into if you stayed with him

were you ready to be the spouse of a King?

of course he made it seem as if he was going to ditch you

because that man is angst embodied

everything to keep you safe right?

luckily as soon as it was clear that no, he wasn’t going to ditch you and yes, this was kind of a hastily thrown together proposal in a way, you kissed him saying that as long as you were at his side you were ready for anything

as long as you were together

Aragorn taglist: @katethewriter @lovemusic26alwaysblog @sokkasdarling @snailcoveredcottage

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @emmapotato8 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @moarfandomtrash

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mountkennedie · 6 months ago

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Straggler

Kili Durin x human!reader

Summary: An au where everyone lives happily in erebor and kili is in love with you (lucky)

Warnings: ONLY TWO uses of y/n, and fluff ofc

A.N. i love kili and he loves me tbh.

Bagginshield mention lol.

Also: -ê khi love: my one love and Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures

Kili is 4'8, Reader is around 5'4

"You look beautiful in the sunlight," the dwarf beside you said. You jumped, you swore when you left this morning, and you didn't have any stragglers. However, here you are, with Kili Durin on your tracks. You weren't going to lie, you enjoyed the princes company, if only he gave you a warning beforehand.

You all had been thriving in Erebor upon a year now. Now that things had settled and riches distributed, everyone was able to return to a simpler life. Ori began exploring crochet after mastering knit. You enjoyed going on walks around the mountain, and Kili enjoyed you.

You looked down to him and furrowed your eyebrows, unsure if you heard what you thought you did. "I said um," he began to look sheepish, "you look beautiful in the sunlight, Y/n."

"Thank you," you bowed your head in appreciation, then began to continue your stroll when he said, "Wait!" He grasped your forearm, "may I join you this morning?" He gave you a warm smile in addition to the sweet eyes you could hardly resist.

"You already are KIli," I told him, returning the smile. "But sure, why not." He wasted no time in meeting you at your side. "I really love the view," your gaze followed over the trees and valleys and into the overwhelming beauty of Middle Earth. After being on the year-long quest and exhausting final battle, you can finally appreciate the scenery you're surrounded with. It sends waves of peace over you that you only wish to bask in until the end of time.

"So do I," he whispered. But instead of looking at the young rising sun over the horizon, his gaze on you didn't falter. To an onlooker, it would look as if his sight upon you had grown more intense.

You, of course, noticed this. "Kili, I'm serious!" You playfully shoved him to the side. You let laughter spill from your lips, and he joined you. You paced forward slowly, "you know... would you ever like to see it all?" Your voice matched your vision, very distant.

"All..?" He asked you whilst meeting your speed.

"Of middle earth. Would you ever want to see the entirety of our world?" You spoke quietly, thinking of how you would answer that question. In all honesty, you would. But not for a long time. You needed a couple of years before venturing on your next quest, and with the knowledge you now know, you would not want to go alone.

"I see the entirety of my world every day," he spoke softly. He stopped walking and looked at you. You halted and looked at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Crossing the short distance, you stood before him.

"Must you always be a flirt?"

Looking up into your eyes, "I must," he mused.

"And why is that, Kili?"

"Y/n, -ê khi love, I think you know," he took your hand in his. He held you like you were the rarest treasure, and for how he was looking in your eyes, to him you were.

"Kili..." You were speechless. His eyes were studying every movement your face made, trying to learn as much as possible about what you were thinking. But you saved him the trouble, "amrâlimê." You had so desperately wanted to give that name to him. You smiled so brightly, and he returned it. It was debatable who out shined the other.

"Really?" He couldn't contain the excitement he felt inside. All the talks with his uncles about how properly court had finally paid off. He knew he needed to meet with Thorin and Bilbo as soon as possible, but it could still wait until he completed the courting tradition.

"So does that mean we'd give each other the braids?" You felt like a child for asking that question, but being human, this was new to you. Thorin had conveniently told about the practice yesterday.

"It does! It does, indeed." He reached back and released his shiny brunette hair for the silver clip he had installed and turned his back to you. You don't think you've ever seen him so eager. Upon picking up some strands, you heard your lover sigh deeply. If only you were a dwarf, to fully understand this significance. You've noticed Fili's braids. Maybe he's waiting on his turn since.

When you finish the braid, you let your fingers run through the rest of his locs, as if hypnotized. He turned to look at you, tears in his eyes. His hand took yours and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it. He did not break eye contact during the small gesture, and it sent waves of emotion through you. "Your turn, ghivashel."

His gentle tone woke you from your thoughts. You gasped a little and smiled. You turned your back to him and sucked in a breath, beyond excited to receive a braid of your own.

After finishing his portion, you hear Kili release an uneven breath. You turn around to see him with tears in his eyes. You don't ever think you have been gazed upon in such a way as he is gazing now. Eyes wet with tears, but full of passion and love that could never be shown to anyone other than his One.

You held his face in your hands and looked deep into those eyes. He leaned his forehead up to rest against yours, and you closed the gap. The feeling surging between the two of you could never be measured. Without a word, you both aimed for each others lips, a final collision to seal tradition.

It was languid and slow but full of life. Pulling away, you both looked each other in the eyes. "If only I could tell you how many nights I've laid awake... waiting for this moment, -ê khi love." His eyes looked over your face as if taking it all in for the first time. Not getting enough of every inch it crossed over.

"You will never have to wait again."

#kili durin #kili durin x reader #kili #fili and kili #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit kili #kili fluff #kili durin fluff #mountkennedie #kili x reader #kilixyou

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starlighttfoxx · 3 months ago

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Thorin x Bilbo HeadCannon post BoTFA

After Thorin and his nephews healed up and rested all they could (because they lived ofc) Thorin gave them the official grand tour of Erebor along with Bilbo. Showing them the important rooms and kitchens ect.

Also Gandalf had to go somewhere as he usually does lmaooo and so Bilbo had to stay awhile in Erebor anyways! Unable to have an escort back to the shire. Thorin obviously cannot leave again he’s king now. SO Bilbo gets an even extended tour because Fili and Kili run off probably causing mayhem.

I can just see Thorin showing Bilbo the official royal Kingly bed chambers and Bilbo would do that quirky little mannerism where he squishes his face and moves his hands back and forth saying “That’s lovely truly however where will I be sleeping” and Thorin just goes on saying in here of course you deserve a nice bed because he knows Bilbo probably misses his warm bed back in bag end lol.

So both just kinda become utterly confused wondering if they both will share the room together lmaoo and ultimately yes. I mean why not right?! They’re in love at that point even if the other doesn’t know how the other feels yet. I also think somewhere in the night Thorin will ask Bilbo if he’s warm enough ❤️

The end

thank you for my ted talk ~

PS: I love them so much I’m ill

#bilbo baggins #bagginshield #lotr #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #erebor #the hobbit botfa #headcanon

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middleearthpixie · 2 years ago

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Hellooo, I love your work, and I would love to request something! If you don't end up writing it, that is completely fine. Please don't feel obligated to!

I'm not sure if you write for Kili, so if you do not, Thorin would be perfectly fine!

But imagine when the company is in Mirkwood and they are sitting in the cells. They are visited by (what they believe to be) a Dwarrowdam, while she is beardless, she is Dwarven in size and has long hair with a few braids in it (They consider her to be like Kili, relatively ugly for Dwarven standards). They get excited when she talks to them, but she doesn't seem to know anything of dwarves culture.

When the guards come, they ask her to hide, which she does not, and is thus greated by the Guards as their Princess, Legolas little Sister. They company realises they've met Thranduils Daughter, who might look a little dwarven but is an elf through and through, with long pointed ears, ethereal seemingly glowing long hair, and royal blood.

How it end is up to you! I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care <333

Hi there, Nonny!

Thank you so much for this and for your patience! 💜

I don't write for Kíli and probably couldn't do him justice if I tried, so I wrote for Thorin, since he is my first dwarf love. :)

Anyway, I hope you like it.

The Escape

Summary: Thorin and his Company have found themselves imprisoned in Mirkwood, only to have help from one of the most unlikeliest of elves...

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Carys Greenleaf

Characters: Thorin, Carys Greenleaf, Thorin’s Company, Thranduíl, Legolas, Bilbo Baggins

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k

***

“Did he offer you a deal?”

Thorin bobbed his head, a hint of triumph surging through him as he replied, “He did. And I told him ish kakfê ai-‘d-dûr-rugnal! Him and all his kin!”

“Well, that’s that, then.”

“I will not bargain with elves,” Thorin told him flatly, moving to the far side of the cell. Of course, calling it the far side was a bit disingenuous, as the cell itself was too small to actually have sides. Small. Damp. With cots of woven tree branches that had poked through the packed earthen walls. There was barely enough room for him and Balin, and Balin was one of the smaller dwarves. Thank Mahal he wasn't locked away with Bombur.

Thorin peered through the iron bars that made up the cell door. Across from them, Bombur and Bifur were crammed into one cell together, and Bifur couldn't be seen behind his cousin. Thorin just knew he was there, for every now and again, Bifur muttered something in khuzdul.

“Without a bargain,” Balin was saying, “we are not getting out of here, you know.”

Thorin shook his head, moving away from the door to sink onto the edge of the roughly woven bunk. It was rough and uneven, and he couldn't imagine getting a peaceful night’s sleep on it, even if his mind wasn't already weighted down with their situation and the fact they were quickly running out of time to make it to the Lonely Mountain before the last light of Durin’s Day.

Still, he had his principles and bargaining with elves violated every one of them. Especially bargaining with Mirkwood elves. Out of the question entirely. “We will find our way out. Our burglar is still among the missing, remember.”

“True, but we don't know where he is, or if he is even within the palace,” Balin pointed out, sinking onto the bunk across from Thorin’s. The cell was so narrow, if he reached out, Thorin would be able to touch Balin. Thank Mahal small spaces didn't trouble him, since it looked as though they might be there for some time.

Best not to think about that.

“Are you thirsty?”

Thorin jumped at the unexpected voice that floated through the bars and when he looked over to see who their visitor might be, he couldn't help but stare. How was it possible a dwarrowdam walked freely in Mirkwood, of all places? And not only a dwarrowdam, but one of the oddest looking women he’d ever seen, with her shimmering, white-blonde hair sleek as it spilled over her shoulders. He would have thought her to be an elf, were it not for her diminutive size (she was shorter than even Balin, and that was saying something,) and the fact that her face was completely devoid of any hair whatsoever. Her pale skin almost glowed in its bareness, making her wide eyes seemed even wider and incredibly dark. But then his gaze alit on the braids woven into that otherwise sleek golden fall. Two on the left side of her head and one on the right, each adorned with small silver ornaments of some sort. An outcast, no doubt, and probably some sort of elf-servant, which sent a rush of pity for her surging through him.

“We want nothing from the likes of you,” he told her bluntly. “Leave us.”

She stepped closer and he realized then that her eyes were not dark at all. Instead, they were blue. A deep blue the color of the perfect sapphires that were once mined in Erebor. Deep blue and just as sparkling. Those beautiful eyes held his as she replied, “Stubborn fool. Think you anyone else will pass by and offer you water or anything, for that matter?”

“I deal with no dwarf who serves an elven master,” he told her flatly. “So take yourself off, and leave us be.”

“Thorin,” Balin’s voice was low with both warning and scolding, “there is no need to be rude to the girl.”

Thorin glared at him. “Mind yourself, Balin. We need nothing from the likes of her.”

She remained where she stood, unfazed by his dismissal. “Are you always one to cut off his nose to spite his face?”

“Begone with you, unless you’ve come to release us.”

“I couldn’t do that if I wanted to,” came her pert reply, “as Thranduíl would be furious with me and I’d rather avoid that, it’s all the same to you, dwarf.”

He held her stare as he debated about whether or not to scold her again. But when she held his stare without flinching or looking away, he relented with a muffled sigh. He was cutting off his nose to spite his face and in all honesty, he would gladly kill for a sip of anything liquid at the moment. “Very well. I beg your pardon. Water would be appreciated.”

“There,” she bobbed her head, “was that so difficult?”

Thorin felt Balin step up behind him, and he looked over at the older dwarf as Balin asked, “Who are you, lass? What clan do you claim as yours?”’

“Clan?” Her blue eyes clouded with confusion as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Whom do you call husband? I assume he’s the one what wove those into your hair.”

“Again, I’m not following you. I’m afraid I don't understand at all what you’re asking me.”

“The braids.” Balin gestured to his own woolly white hair. “The man you’ve pledged yourself to, was he killed in battle with these elves? Is that how you came to be indentured to them?”

“Indentured?” She shook her head, the silver ornaments in her braids thunking softly against one another. “I’ve pledged myself to no man. And I am indentured to no one. In fact, I have no idea what you’re going on about at all.”

Thorin wasn't exactly sure how to respond to her. “You don’t understand the significance of your braids?”

“Other than they keep my hair out of my eyes?” She smiled then. “There is no significance and I’ve pledged myself to no man. At least,” a glint came into her pale eyes as she met his, “not yet.”

To his surprise, his cheeks grew hot. She must have noticed it herself, for her smile grew winsome. “You, dwarf, are blushing.”

“Dwarf?” Balin broke in, shaking his head. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but he is no ordinary dwarf. He is—”

“That’ll do, Balin,” Thorin broke in, shaking his head as he glanced over his shoulder at him.

Balin’s eyes widened briefly, then he nodded. “Of course.” And to the girl, he said, “Have you a name?”

“I do, of course. Surely you don't think they simply call out You! and hope I turn around, do you?”

Now it was Balin’s turn to blush and Thorin almost laughed aloud at the rare sight. Clearing his throat, Balin bobbed his head. “Of course not. That would be silly.”

“It would, indeed.” She smiled once more. “I am—”

Footsteps sounded and Kíli hissed, “Someone’s coming!”

Fíli appeared at the door of the cell he shared with his brother. “You should leave, miss. I should hate to see you in trouble.”

“Trouble?” She twisted toward him and Thorin couldn’t help noticing how her hair seemed to come alive, spilling like molten gold over her shoulder. “I’ll have nothing of the sort. Why would I?”

“Princess?” One of the Mirkwood guards appeared, scowling as he addressed the girl. “You should not be down here. It’s not safe.”

“Oh, do I answer to you now?” Her voice remained mild but there was no mistaking the amusement and annoyance threaded through her words. “Because I’m fairly certain I do not.”

“Your father would be displeased, should he know you’ve come down here.”

Princess. Thorin straightened at hearing her addressed this way. This girl was no dwarrowdam after all. Which explained so much, and yet left so many other questions clanging around in his head, beginning with why a princess was wandering about the dungeon, for starters.

“Carys!” A deeper voice rang out along the cells. “What mean you by this?”

“By what? Being here?” She didn't seem at all nervous or afraid as the elf who’d rounded Thorin and his company up in the Mirkwood forest stepped out of the shadows. “Legolas, you didn't even offer them a drop to drink and after battling the spiders, no less. What is the matter with you?”

Thorin almost smiled at the disappointment and scolding in her voice. It served the uppity elf right, to be put in his place. He not only accused Thorin of lies, but of thievery as well, and took it upon himself to relieve Thorin of the same sword Elrond had gifted him not a two months ago.

Thorin looked from Carys to Legolas and almost groaned at the resemblance between them. She was not a dwarf at all, but merely a very small elf. A child, perhaps? He thunked his head against the iron bars. A child would not go against her father’s wishes and free them. The most she would do would be to offer them water. What else could she do?

But if Legolas was chagrined by her words, he hid it well, snorting before he replied, “Why would I do such a thing? And you should not take it upon yourself to—”

“Oh, hush,” she snapped, shaking her head at him. “Don’t be that way. Papa is angry that they dared trespass, and while he’s within his rights to be annoyed, I think imprisoning them is overkill. They were lost in our woods and he had them arrested for it. They’d done nothing to warrant it, you know. Lost is not a crime, unless our laws have changed, which I’m fairly certain they’ve not.”

Legolas’ dark eyes flicked up and Thorin almost smiled as he met the elf’s stare easily. Stepping around his sister, he said, “Do not think I am as soft as she. I care not if you lot are left here long enough to turn to dust.”

“I’ve noticed,” Thorin replied dryly, mindful of Balin’s dark eyes boring into his back at the moment. “Although, I confess, I was not aware being lost was a crime, unless, as she’s pointed out, your laws have changed.”

“You are guilty of more than simply being lost. You took it upon yourself to attempt to hunt one of Thranduíl’s prized deer, and that is a crime in these lands,” Legolas told him, shaking his head. “You are fortunately this cell is all the punishment he’s ordered.”

“I certainly feel fortunate.”

“Thorin, mind yourself,” Balin growled behind him.

Thorin ignored the warning, adding, “We were lost and hungry and thirsty. You would do the same, were you in our boots.”

“I would never be in dwarven boots. I value my feet far too much.” Legolas turned to his sister. “Come. I will have one of the others deal with this lot.”

“I wish to bring them water first. A little kindness won’t hurt, you know.”

“Not now. Let’s go.” He grabbed Carys by the elbow and steered her away, calling over his shoulders, “She will not be back, you know.”

Carys scowled as she glared up at her older brother. “Would it have hurt to give them a sip of water? When did you grow so cold, Legolas, that you would deny anyone a basic necessity such as that?”

“You are too soft, is the problem,” he replied without looking at her. “And you know Father would agree with me.”

She pulled free. “We will see about that.”

“Carys, wait—”

She ignored him, marching ahead of him along the open walkway that led toward her father’s throne room. Although she knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears, she had to try. Thorin Oakenshield and his company had broken no elven laws, save for that attempt to shoot one of Thranduíl’s white deer, and she felt one hundred years in a cell was not exactly a warranted punishment for that. If they’d hit the deer, perhaps, but since he’d missed…

Besides, she’d heard tell of Thorin Oakenshield and had, for some time now, wondered whether or not he actually existed. Now that she’d seen him for herself… well… she was somehow going to convince her father to let him go. What harm had befallen her family from having the dwarves in their forest? Absolutely none.

With that, she marched into the throne room where she found Thranduíl perched high atop his throne of woven branches, adorned with gilded versions of oak leaves, acorns, maple seeds, and pine cones. He blended with the surroundings in his flowing robes of gold, orange, brown, and red silk that floated about him like a mist. The sunlight that filtered through the treetops reflected off his crown of sticks and twigs, also adorned with gilded acorns and polished stones that in some lights appeared golden, and in others, almost black.

“Papa, a word?”

His eyes were as green as spring leaves after a rainstorm, calm and tranquil as they met hers. “What is it, Carys?”

“The prisoners.”

“If you mean the dwarves, you should simply stop right there,” he replied sternly, “for I will not discuss them.”

“What have they done that is so terrible? They were lost.”

“That does not excuse them their trespasses.”

“They didn't kill the deer, mind you.” She shook her head as she stepped closer. “They did nothing except walk along our paths. They sipped not even a drop of water. Let them go.”

“I will do no such thing and we will not discuss it further. They stay until Thorin Oakenshield is willing to return to me that which is rightfully mine.”

“What?” She cocked her head slightly to stare up at him. “What are you about, Papa? What of yours can these dwarves possibly have?”

Thranduíl shook his head, sending his shimmering blond hair spilling like molten gold over his shoulders. “Never you mind about it. You have my answer. And I’ll not change my mind, so do not even try.”

“But, Papa—”

“No!” His low voice echoed all around them and his robes swished softly as he rose to sweep carefully down the staircase from his throne. “I’ll not settle for any less.”

“You are being impossibly stubborn, do you know this? You make no sense and this is just cruel. They’ve not even been offered so much as sip of water since you locked them away.”

“I needed not make sense to you, daughter, to have my wishes obeyed. Now, you are to stay away from the dungeons. Legolas,” Thranduíl’s pale eyes flicked up over her head, “see your sister to her chambers, please.”

“I can see myself there, thank you.” She spun about and swept out of the throne room through the doorway along the eastern wall, that led to a corridor traveled only by her family. Her rooms were at the far end, and she didn't slow down as she made her way through her chambers and out to the small garden behind them.

Hints of jasmine and honeysuckle hung in the air. If she closed her eyes, Carys could almost see her mother, for those scents would forever be associated with her mother. She had very little memory of her, but for her scent remained burned into Carys’ brain and would remain there. This garden was the only place were honeysuckle grew, as Thranduíl did not know she’d cultivated it. Had he, and Carys had no doubt he’d have ordered it burned. Not out of cruelty, but out of self-preservation, for he’d never gotten over her murder.

Carys was but an infant when it happened and had no memory of her mother aside from the flowers. And she could not even be sure that she linked them because she remember them or because her father told her that her mother’s favorite scent was honeysuckle. It didn't matter. Carys found comfort in the smell, just has her father found sorrow in it.

A low stone wall ringed the garden and as she sank onto it, Carys sighed softly. Thorin and his men did not deserve to be locked away in a dungeon for a crime that was hardly a crime. The longer she sat there, her back against her favorite tree, watching the fireflies as they flashed through the growing darkness, the more strongly she felt they did not deserve this.

The Feast of Starlight, Mereth Nuin Goliath was to begin shortly, and once the wine began flowing, no one would notice if she slipped away from the others. So she joined them all in the Great Hall, and by half-eleven, even her father was well into his cups. As she thought, no one seemed to take notice when she slipped out of the hall and down into the kitchens, where the keys were kept on a hook near the doorway.

The iron ring was cold and far heavier than it looked, and she wrapped her fingers about the numerous equally cold and heavy keys to keep them from clanking together as she descended into the damp depths of the Mirkwood dungeons. That dampness bit into her, the cold made her feet ache through her thin silk slippers, and she wished she’d brought a wrap with her.

But, she’d be up in her chambers and warm again soon enough, and so put her discomfort from her mind. It was temporary and it would pass.

“What time do you suppose it is?” The low male voice floated out from one of the cells.

“It must be nearly dawn by now.”

“We will never make it in time.”

She crept up to Thorin’s cell and softly rattled the keys. “I beg to differ.”

Thorin appeared in the doorway, his eyes pale blue slivers in the soft light afforded by the torches affixed high above them. Those eyes stood out starkly against his long tangle of black har and equally dark, heavy brows. “What are you doing?”

“I do not believe trespassing is deserving of a hundred-year sentence.” She slid the key into the lock and turned to set the tumblers opening. “And so, I’ve come to let you all go. But, you’ll have to move quickly, for it won’t take much for them to notice I’ve gone. They’re drunk, but not dead, you know.”

The door opened noiselessly and a moment later, Thorin stood before her. Up close, he was strikingly handsome. Far more so than she would have ever thought and definitely more so than she’d ever expected. And since he was tall for a dwarf, and she was short for an elf, they were the same height, which meant they stood nearly eye-to-eye.

Those eyes were friendly now, and almost warm as he said, “Princess, thank you.”

“There is no need for that.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sounds of people moving in the kitchens. “We need to move. Now. Follow me.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” A dwarf almost as tall as Thorin and far more menacing-looking, with his balding, tattooed head, growled.

“Why would I trap you when you were already trapped?” She shook her head. “There really is no time for this. Come with me or remain here for the next hundred years. The choice is yours.”

“Where is the hobbit? Is he here?” a dwarf with two jet-black pigtails asked.

“I’ve no idea what hobbit you might be referring to, as I’ve seen none. Now, please,” Carys tried to force as much urgency into her whisper as she could manage, “it will not be long before someone comes into the kitchens and notices this enormous key ring—” she held up the ring in question, jangling it softly for effect—“is missing. And they will know why it is missing. So, if you’d be so kind, please, follow me.”

“Do as she says,” Thorin hissed, then to her surprise, caught her by the elbow as he added, “Please, lead on.”

She did, moving swiftly along the all-too-familiar treads, deeper into the palace, until they reached the bottommost level, where at least two dozen casks stood carefully stacked, waiting to be filled with goods to be sent down the Forest River to Esgaroth and points beyond.

Thorin stared at her in disbelief. “You cannot mean what I think you mean.”

“You will be fine. Trust me. I used to do this myself as a child. It might give you butterflies in your stomach, but that’s the worst that should happen.”

“Thorin, you cannot mean to listen to her!” The dwarf with the pigtails stared in wide-eyed horror. “She’s meaning to drown the lot of us. And we cannot leave without finding Bilbo.”

“Please,” she looked from one dwarf to the next, shaking her head as dust filtered down from the boards above, “someone has noticed and you are almost out of time. Get in the barrels. Otherwise, my efforts will have been in vain and you will find yourselves back in your cells.”

“In with you all,” Thorin whispered sharply. “Waste no more time!”

More dust filtered down around them and the dwarves reluctantly climbed into the barrels, muttering and mumbling the entire time. She ignored them as she met Thorin’s gaze. “You should get in as well. I’ll pull the lever and get you on your way. Hopefully, the current will be swift enough to have whisked you out of reach of the archers, but I will try to stall them as best I can just the same.”

“Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome.” Footsteps thudded dully overhead. “You should go.”

He glanced up. “What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never defied my father this way. He will be quite angry, I imagine. But, that certainly won’t be the first time.”

The footsteps grew louder and now her heart beat faster. Thranduíl would be beyond furious with her, really. He might even banish her. She didn't know. She’d seen him banish other elves for lesser offenses, but they were not his daughter, either. Certainly she would not have to fear such a punishment.

At least, she hoped she wouldn’t.

The boards directly over their heads creaked and voices, muffled at first, grew clearer. The seriousness of her actions bit into her then and without hesitation, she said, “Get in now!”

Thorin climbed into a barrel and looked back at her once more. “Thank you again.”

“Think not of it,” she told him, forcing herself to smile as she moved to the lever that wold turn the floor into a ramp. “Safe travels.”

Though kept well-oiled, the dampness still caused rust to form on the giant cogs and they squealed as she pushed against the lever with all of her might. At first, the floor only barely moved and fear bit into her with sharp teeth, urged her to push with more force. The muscles in her back screamed, the ones in her legs burned, but finally, the ramp lowered and one by one, the barrels splashed into the river far below. Another moment later, and they were out of sight.

The ramp clapped shut just as the first guards burst into the chamber, Thranduíl right behind them, his eyes ablaze with utter fury unlike any she’d ever seen. When those eyes fell on her, she stepped back, her stomach twisting into hot knots of fear unlike any she’d ever felt before.

***

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#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #Thorin Fic #Romance #thranduil #Mirkwood #DOS

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villain-connoisseur · 4 months ago

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Where the Road Goes Prologue

where to read: ↪ ff.net ↪ ao3

Summary: Prisca Haywood dreams of exploring the world beyond the Shire. When Bilbo Baggins joins Thorin Oakenshield's quest, Prisca seizes her chance, eager to see the world she's only imagined. But as the journey unfolds, Prisca discovers that the real world is far more perilous than her youthful fantasies had ever prepared her for. [Kili x OFC]

Bilbo looked at her, his heart swelling with hope. "Yes," he agreed softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "One day."

#oc: prisca haywood #fic: where the road goes #fd: the hobbit #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit oc #kili x oc #kili #chapter update #ff.net link #ao3 link #thank you for check it out! it means the world to me!!!

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roadtogracelandx45 · 2 years ago

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To Update/ Coming soon- June 14th- August 31st

** means smut

Admiral's Daughter- part 1, 2 and 3- Top Gun Maverick ff, Chasing Angels series. 2 Hangman/ Bianca/ Rooster, 3 Dagger Squad, 1. Bianca, Hangman, Coyote, and Phoniex.

Baby I Do,- Part 2* ,3*, 4,5- Elvis- Burnin' Love series- Elvis/ Sylvie

Little White Church- One Shot- Elvis- Stand alone- Elvis/Sylvie

Cowboy Take Me Away- Parts *2 and 3- Top Gun Maverick FF- Chasing Angels series- Hangman/Bianca

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy*- One shot- Yellowstone- Angel of Mercy Series- Lee Dutton/ Spencer Abbott

Just Dance- Part 1, 2*,3*,4* - Top Gun Maverick FF- Chasing Angels series- Hangman/Bianca

Wouldn't It Be Nice- One shot- Supernatural- Darkest Before the Dawn Series- Dean/Ellie

Secrets That Are Meant- one shot* Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept Series- Sam/ Dean- Wincest

To Be Kept- One Shot*- Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept Series- Ellie/Dean/Sam

Need You To Know- One shot*- Supernatural- Secrets That Are Meant To Kept- Ellie/Dean

Be My Baby Tonight- Part 1, Part 2*, Part 3, Part 4*- Avengers, Only Fools Rush Series- Steve/ Lennon, Bucky/ Lennon

Saturday's Alright For Fighting- One Shot- Fast Saga- Life in The Fastlane Saga- Vince/Sophie

On The Outside- Parts 3, 4,5,6 The Outsiders- On The Outside- implied Soda/Mattie

Game Changers- Part 2, 3,4,5.6- The Mighty Ducks- Game Changers series- Adam Banks/ Ava Bombay

I Kissed A Girl- One Shot*- Fast Saga- Life In The Fastlane Saga- Letty/ Sophie

California Girls- One Shot*- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels- Phoniex/ Bianca

Courage Under Fire- Band of Brothers- Courage Under Fire Series- Bill/Olivia, Olivia/ Joseph Liebgott, Bill/ May Jenkins Parts 1, 2, 3*,4,5

Burnin' Love- Elvis- Burnin' Love Series- Elvis/Sylvie- Parts 5,6,7,8,9,10

Chasing Angels- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels Series- Rooster/ Bianca, IceMav, Hangman/ Bianca, Hangman/ Phoniex, Phoneix/ Bianca. Parts 2, 3*, 4*,5,6,7

Should Be Me- Band of Brothers- Courage Under Fire series- what if- part 2- Bill/ Olivia

Charming Town- Sons of Anarchy- Charming Town Series- Jax/Ryder- Parts 7,8, 9*,10*,11*,12

I Don't Dance But For You- Top Gun Maverick- Chasing Angels one shot- Rooster Bianca-

Only Fools Rush In- Captain America- Only Fools Rush in Series- Parts 2,3,4,5*,6*,7*,8,9,10- Bucky/Hannah. Steve/Peggy

Under False Pretenses- Band of Brothers Mafia AU- Under False Pretense series- Liebgott/ Olivia, Dick/Olivia/Nixon part 2*,3*,4*,5*,6,7,8*,9*,10*

Are You Going My Way- Band of Brothers College AU- Are You Going My Way Series- Lewis/ Olivia, Buck/Olivia, Liebgott/Oliva, Bill/Olivia etc Part 2*, Part 3, Part 4*,5,6*

Please, I Need You- Chicago PD- Thin Blue Line series- Jay Libby one shot

Got You- Chicago PD x Blue Blood crossover- Jayx Libby- parts 4*, 5*, 6, 7

Don't Stop Believing- Chicago Fire x Blue Crossover- Kelly Severide. Libby Reagan- Parts 2,3,4,5,6

Through The Heart- S.W.A.T- Luca x Josie Kay- parts 4,5,6,7,8

Star Crossed Lovers- Twilight- Star Crossed Lovers series- Rosalie/Emmett/ Lily parts 1,2,3,4,5

Hearts Made of Glass- Twilight All Human- Lily/Edward- Parts 2,3,4,5

Life In The Fastlane- Fast Saga- Vince/Sophie, Dom/Sophie, Letty/Sophie, Dom/Letty, Mia/Brian- Parts 7*,8*,9,10,11

Girl from Barstow- Fast Saga- Life In The Fastlane series- One shot-

Thin Blue Line- One Chicago/Law and Order SVU/Blue Bloods crossover- Parts 2,3,4

Winter's Gate- Game of Thrones- Winter's Gate series- Robb Stark/Jonlynn- Parts 4, 5*, 6

Homeward Bound- Game of Thrones- Winter Gate series- Robb Stark/ Jonlynn- Part 2,3, 4

Second Chances- Lord of The Rings/The Hobbbit- Second Chances series- Legolas/Ilianna/ either Fili or Kili- Part 2, 3,4

Royals- Harry Potter- Royals Series- Fred/Celeste. George- part 1,2,3,4,5

Puzzle Pieces- Triple Frontier- Miller Brothers/OFC parts 1,2,3, 4

Mine now. Sons of anarchy- Jax/Ryder one shot

Night Terrors - Winter Solider and the Falcon- Bucky/Lennon one shot

Sweet as Georgia Peach- Band of Brothers- prequel story to Courage Under Fire. Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Oh My, My Love- Elvis- Two Shot- part 1, part 2

London Blue- Band of Brothers- one shot- Liebgott/ Liv- set after D-Day

London Grey- Band of Brothers- one shot- Nixon/Liv

Undercover- One Chicago- parts 2,3,4

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 1 year ago

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Vassal of the King (part 10)

Frerin x OFC

Author's annotations are here!

*****

Frerin is one hundred and thirty-one when he is finally forced (or allowed?) to come to terms with his past.

Life in Erebor is full of uncertainty for his family.

Frerin lives the first weeks under the Mountain as if in a dream. It is startling, even unsettling, to witness how things, places and situations he knew seventy years ago and then did his best to forget, immediately return to his mind, like predators that have been hiding in the dark waiting for the right moment to strike. Frerin wanders around the palace, alone or carrying his son on his shoulders, and shows him his mother's parlour, where he went to be cuddled and comforted after a fight with his brother or a tumble down the stairs, the stone-walled inner courtyard, where he and the other children of the family played together, and the small but cozy room next to the library where he attended his classes.

The emotional, bittersweet memories of his childhood are still vivid in his heart, like ghosts enlivened around him to remind the prince of a past in which he was happy (more than he thought back then, and how ashamed he is to remember that) and safe and surrounded by people who loved him. As he re-explores the ancestral home of his family, Frerin is torn between exaltation and desperation, between peace and shame, between cheerfulness and regret. And whether the tears he sheds are happy or otherwise, not even he can tell.

The Mountain is not the only thing he needs to rediscover: there are its people he has to deal with, and some of them are not less inflexible and rigid than their home.

Besides Balin, who is still the older cousin, indulgent and understanding, willing to forgive his mischief and put in a good word whenever Thráin got cross with his younger son, the only ones who welcome Frerin as if he had never left are Dís and her children. The princess is much older than the last time they saw each other, hints of silver in her raven hair and laughter lines around her mouth, but the way se receives him (a tight hug, not crying but shaking as if she were making an effort to hold back tears) is exactly what he was expecting from his older sister and favourite playmate. Dís does not ask questions, does not lay blames, does not ask for promises; she does not offer advices either. She simply asks her brother to attend her wedding, and in exchange she gladly accepts to offer Verdandi her friendship. Fili and Kili, on their part, are happy to have a new uncle, and propose themselves as his guides in the new kingdom under the Mountain, and as playmates for Sindri.

The rest of the family opens to him gradually, which, Frerin thinks, is more than he had reason to hope for. Many of its members are also part of Thorin's Company, a close-knit group Frerin is not part of and among which he has no right to be. Dwarves are, after all, famously talented in holding grudges and not forgiving a slight, real or perceived, and many of his relatives (his cousin Dwalin first of all) still blame him for what he did, for his cowardly flight after Azanulbizar, and for a while they keep their distance, as if he were carrying a contagious disease. But blood is thicker than water, and no blood is thicker than that of the Dwarves of the Line of Durin, and in the end, little by little, Frerin's kin (again, his cousin and now brother-in-law Dwalin first of all) open up to him, welcome him in their midst, teach him how to navigate the court, who to trust and who to avoid. They take care of him.

Frerin had not realized (or rather, he had not allowed himself to realize) how much he missed his birth family. He had thought Verdandi and Sindri were everything he needed to be happy, and more than he deserved; and that is true, he could swear it in front of the Maker himself. His wife and child are the family he has chosen and he would rather die than lose them; this is different, because Dís and the others are his blood, his clan, and they share an ancient and deep bond Frerin cannot ignore, nor does he want to.

Thorin...

Thorin's behaviour is difficult to interpret. He does not attack Frerin, in words or otherwise, nor does he holds his betrayal against him or reminds him of his own promise to forget he ever had a brother. At his arrival, they share a formal, frosty hug, and then his brother does his best to keep him at a distance, ignoring him as if Frerin had never returned. He is perfectly courteous, even friendly, with his wife and child, making sure they have everything they need and feel at home in the Mountain; he asks Dís to introduce Verdandi to her friends, and proposes to choose the kingdom's best preceptor for Sindri. Frerin is relived, and grateful, but he does not delude himself into thinking those considerations also extend to him: he knows that sooner or later he and his older brother, he and his King, will have to talk, and it is not going to be pleasant. But until then, Frerin thinks as they both hold their sister's hands to give her away at her wedding, it is good to be together once more, and he is determined to enjoy that happiness while it lasts.

The apartment Frerin and his family settle in is ten times larger than their house in Tharak Bazan. Frerin brings his wife and child to explore his homeland, and his people; he fills them with attentions and precious gifts, things they until now could only dream of: succulent foods, jewelry, sumptuous clothes. He does it because he loves them, and because they deserve the best and he is finally able to give it to them; and deep in his heart, Frerin knows he does it to appease his conscience, because he knows Verdandi and Sindri are not happy in that kingdom they are only staying in for his sake.

Sindri, already a reserved, introverted child when in the company of people he does not know well, is intimidated by everything: by the Mountain, by the stone-vaulted large halls, by the flaunted wealth at every corner, by the important people he meets - and little does it matter that he is a prince himself, the nephew of the King. The little Dwarf misses his home, the town he was born in, and his friends; his parents, and Fili and Kili, do their best to make him feel safe and happy, but for a while Sindri withdraws into himself, keeping close to his mother and making himself small every time someone speaks to him, as if he were trying to disappear.

Unexpectedly, it is Thorin (the grumpiest, most intimidating Dwarf of the seven clans, who probably has less free time than anyone else in the whole kingdom) who helps his little nephew come out of his shell: he seems to have really grown fond of the child, and maybe he remember how it was, to be so little in the midst of so much. He speaks gently but seriously to him, without a trace of the condescension many adults use with children; the King personally brings his brother's son to visit the halls where some ancient relics of the Line of Durin are stored, and patiently answers to Sindri's numerous questions. Thanks to his help, Sindri slowly begins to settle in, and Thorin is the member of the family he is closest to.

Something his father envies him. A lot.

Verdandi can hide her uneasiness better than her child. With great relief of both her and Frerin, she and Dís bond almost instantly, and the Dwarf woman gladly agrees to assist her sister-in-law with the preparations for her wedding. Verdandi, the daughter of a tanner and a shop-keeper, who was taught at home and knows nothing of the politics and the etiquette of the court, adopts the role of a princess (because this is what she is, even though only by marriage) as if she were born for it. She wears lavish gowns and rich jewels with the utmost naturalness, as if she had not mended her own clothes and those of her family until a few months ago, her head held high and her steps slow but self-assured, and instinctively understands when the Dwarves who talk to her do it out of sincere kindness and interest or hiding contempt behind flattering words.

One day one of the King's councillors, who has taken a dislike to her, attempts to belittle Verdandi including her in a conversation with a recently arrived delegation from Eryn Galen; his intention is to embarass the Dwarf woman, who certainly knows nothing of the delicate relationship between Mirkwood and the Mountain, their less than peaceful past, the cautious diplomatic relations developed after the retaking of Erebor. Before Frerin or Dís can come to her rescue, Verdandi surprises the whole court greeting the ambassadors in their own tongue, that, she explains, she learnt a few words of from a couple of Elves she and her sister did business with in Tharak Bazan, buying fine silkes and velvets for their shop. The Elves seem pleasantly surprised, and stay and talk to Verdandi for a long time, while the councillor seethes and remains silent, since he does not understand a word. Later, Thorin publicly praises her, recognizing it is probably thanks to his sister-in-law that those blasted pointy-ears have behaved almost courteously during their stay.

Frerin has never been prouder of his wife, and he tells her more than once; she wordlessly smiles, and dismisses those compliments with a gesture of her hand.

Verdandi gets along well with Dís, Thorin and Balin and the rest of her husband's family, but she is not happy. She misses her home, and her old life, the one she has given up for her husband's sake and in order to move to a place where she has been welcomed and she can have everything she wants and much more, but where she feels out of place like a pebble among the rubies. Who cares if she will never have to work another day in her life, and if she can have a new dress for every day of the month? She has not seen Skuld in weeks, and the shop she was so proud of and where she loved spending her days in is so far away; she is relieved Sindri's future is secured, but she cannot help fearing living under the Mountain will destroy her family.

But Verdandi has promised to stand by her husband whatever the cost, and is determined to keep her word. She knows he is happy in Erebor, at home with the family he had missed so much, and how important it is for him to repair his relationship with his brother, even though in the privacy of her heart she wishes they could go back to their little home, and their little life, in Tharak Bazan, when they were no one of importance, nothing more than a smith and a shopkeeper, and they were happy (they were; he was. Or was he not?, she asks herself during yet another sleepless night) and safe and they could wish for nothing more. Verdandi hides these fears in the depth of her heart, and orders herself to be strong. For Fjalar.

The brief period the family had agreed to move to the Mountain for soon becomes a whole year. Frerin spends most of his time with his brother, trying to redeem himself in Thorin's eyes and, absurdly at the same time, to prove to him how unsuited he is to the role of prince; Sindri finally makes friends with some of the court's children, but mainly finds ways to entertain himself alone. Verdandi spends his time with Dís e other Dwarf ladies her sister-in-law has introduced her to, she comports herself as it is expected by a princess, she is courteous, elegant, and probably the only Dwarf under the Mountain the Elves tolerate; but she is not happy.

Gradually, a painful distance grows between her and Frerin. He is so busy helping his brother ruling their kingdom (and wondering what exactly he is trying to achieve, whether to demonstrate he is not cut for that sort of life by failing or to do a good job so that Thorin can be proud of him) that the time Frerin can spend with his wife and son is inevitably reduced. He is forced to postpone twice a trip to Dale he had promised Sindri, and forgets Verdandi's birthday for the first time since they met; he begs for her forgiveness, promises it will not happen again and buys her another lavish dress to make amends, and she assures him it does not matter and she is not angry, but the damage is done, and from then on things get worse.

Frerin loves Verdandi and Verdandi loves Frerin, but soon the two lose the intimacy that was the joy and the treasure of their relationship. They lie together regularly (even too regularly, as if the act was a duty to be fulfilled twice a week) but without the passion and the naturaleness of the past; to show their feelings, even just to say I love you, seems to be harder every day. Thorin has proposed to share his duties with Frerin, to have him presiding over minor matters and acting as his delegate as it is the right and the duty of a prince, and Verdandi is happy the two brothers have at least something to talk about (really, she is!) even though it means she is the one who barely sees her husband anymore.

Frerin is more and more busy, and in Verdandi's eyes he becomes more of a prince than a husband. Besides Dís, the person she sees the most in those weeks is Bofur, a Dwarf whose kindness and natural cheerfulness are offered freely, and gratefully accepted. The two meet almost every day, and Bofur makes friends with Sindri as well, entertaining the child with his stories and the toys he builds. Verdandi and Bofur's relationship is purely platonic, but this does not prevent Frerin from burning with the fierce fire of jealousy, and from fearing the other Dwarf wants to take the people he loves the most from him.

When Frerin reproaches Verdandi insinuating there is something more than friendship between her and Bofur, she answers he has some nerve accusing her, given all the unmarried court ladies who keep accidentally crossing his path and tripping over their own feet hoping he will help them stand ("It is simply the polite thing to do! I never asked for that kind of attention!" "Yes, but have you done anything to discourage them? Or do you secretly enjoy it!?") and that he has left her alone to the point that she can barely remember his face does not mean she must spend the rest of her life without the comfort of friends. Husband and wife end up shouting at each other like they had never done before, and Sindri cries, terrified as he looks at the two people he loves the most, and who also love each other so much, acting as if they were bitter enemies.

After that argument, Frerin and Verdandi do not speak for five days; they are both broken-hearted, and know they would only have to say I am sorry to be forgiven, but they are both so angry and hurt and disappointed, and know that the issue between them is much deeper, and more complicated, than a single, stupid quarrel. After so many years of love and intimacy, they have found themselves on the opposing sides of a fault, and they have no idea how to reach each other. They only talk and smile to each other in public, sleep facing in opposite directions, and cry in private.

She has started to call him Frerin, even when they are alone or surrounded by their friends, and for some reason he could not completely explain, that for him is the worst sign of all.

Surprisingly, it is Verdandi's bitterest critic, the councillor who attempted to embarass her in front of the Elves, who helps them make peace.

During a meeting of the council, that Frerin is taking part in next to his brother, the councillor announces that the court has received a proposal from the King of another of the seven clans: he has a daughter of marrying age, and offers her as a bride to a prince of the Line of Durin, in order to build an enduring alliance between the two families. "Maybe prince Frerin could accept the proposal."

A perplexed Frerin, who is sitting in front of the other Dwarf, blinks (and all the eyes in the room fix on him) and points out he is already married. Even though our marriage is no longer what it used to be, he privately adds, even though I fear she could decide to leave me, were it not for our child. And the fault is mine and mine alone.

The councillor sneers and explains in turn that Verdandi can easily be dismissed with a small expense, and sent back to her village with her child; after all she is a commoner, nothing more than a peasant, she will know her place and Frerin will be free to marry a lady of rank, a Dwarf woman worthy of him...

The councillor can barely finish his speech before Frerin has jumped on the table and then on him, has violently punched him in the face and is now attempting to strangle him.

Chaos explodes in the council room. It takes the combined effort of Kili, Fili and Dwalin to immobilize Frerin; Dís begs her brother to calm down, while Thorin, sitting at the end of the long table, observes the scene, silent but grim-faced. In the end, when Frerin has been pushed back on his chair and the councillor escorted outside by a healer, the King rises from his seat, and looks at his brother. "In the armory." he orders, without raising his voice; he does not need to "Now."

Frerin silently obeys. The two brothers descend in the depth of the Mountain, reaching the silent, dimly lit hall where the weapons are stored and maintained; a large grinding machine, not unlike the one Frerin used in his forge in Tharak Bazan, stands in a corner, in wait for a soldier whose blade needs sharpening. With a start, Frerin realizes the two of them were exactly there, so many years ago, when the dragon came. So much has happened since then, and things have changed, they have changed... but not so much they can look at each other in the eyes, and forget what they shared.

"I have no intention of renouncing Verdandi." he says, before Thorin has time to insult him or reproach him or whatever is the reason why he brought him there "She is my wife, the mother of my son, and I love her. I will never leave her, and I want no one else."

Thorin has turned his back to his brother, as he examines the swords hanging on a wall on their hooks. "I know; lord Gurak has offended you both with his proposal, and especially with the words he used. You had every reason to get angry." he concedes "What is inexcusable is your reaction; you are a prince, not a drunkard brawling in a tavern. You should comport yourself as it is expected from you; as a member of the royal family, your behaviour affects us all. Do you think mother would approve of seeing you solving your problems with your fists?"

Those reprimands are among the things he did not miss in the years he spent in exile, but Frerin knows his brother is right: after Azanulbizar he had sworn to never resort to violence again, least of all against another Dwarf, and the fact the councillor had insulted his wife does not justify what he did. Verdandi would not approve... but after all, there is very little his wife has been happy about in a while.

"I am sorry." he says in the end; and that is the first step forward "Really, I know I should not have, but Verdandi and I... are having some issues."

"She is not happy here in Erebor?"

"She is not, even though she would never admit it; and the only person to blame is me."

"Mmh..."

Thorin turns; the two swords he is holding are blunted, like the ones used by young Dwarves who have just started military training. He tosses one to Frerin, who clumsily grabs the handle. "On your guard." he orders, and Frerin blinks.

"What?"

"Like we did when we were young. Disarm me."

"Thorin, I have not used a sword since..."

"On your guard, I said!"

They spend he rest of the day in the armory, skipping dinner. Whatever Frerin once knew about sword-fighting has long been forgotten, considering the only tool he has handled for half his life is a sledgehammer, and a training session with his brother is not enough to remind him of everything he once knew. He cannot disarm his brother, he never could and probably he will never be able to, but, Frerin thinks as he awkwardly parries Thorin's lunge to his stomach and attempts in vain to find an opening in his brother's defense, at least he can try.

And he does.

In the end they are both breathless, their hands hurt, and the two brothers put away their swords to sit and talk, for the first time in a year... and in sixty-five. Frerin cautiously tries to discuss about their last conversation at the gates of Khazad-dûm, but Thorin's intentions are different: to dwell on the past would only bring pain and a new occasion to argue, and he has a proposal to make. A proposal he is confident Frerin will find much more interesting than lord Gurak's, and that concerns him and his family.

Not all the Dwarves of the Line of Durin have returned to Erebor. A fraction of them has decided to remain in the Blue Mountains, in the town they had established after they were driven out of their home. Those Dwarves nevertheless consider themselves Thorin's subjects on par with those dwelling under the Mountain, and have asked that a kinsman of their King comes ruling them as his delegate.

"... me?"

"You."

"I thought Balin... or Dís and Dwalin..."

Thorin promptly shakes his head, as if he had been expecting those objections. "You are my brother." he states; he looks at him in the eyes as he does, and Frerin realizes how much he had missed hearing his brother uttering those simple words "And I trust you. I know you will not disappoint me."

"I am not a prince, Thorin. I am not made for this kind of life." Frerin replies, and while he says it he knows it is true, truer than ever, no matter how ashamed he is "On that day I ran away, and now... in a single year I amost destroyed what until then was a solid, loving marriage, simply being here. How do you think I could rule a whole town, when I cannot even keep peace in my own family?"

Thorin huffs. "To feel overwhelmed, and to struggle to make sense of life at court, does not make you unworthy of being a prince, nor it makes you unintelligent or weak." he points out "Do you think it is easy for me? The destiny of the whole kingdom rests on my shoulders, and it is not a light weight to carry or something I can delegate. Do you think I never doubt myself? That I never make mistakes? Do you think I am not afraid of failure, and of disappointing everyone who looks at me for guidance? I do it; every single day. And I would be a fool not to."

To hear Thorin -Thorin!- criticize himself and admit his own doubts and faults is something Frerin never thought he would see. Suddenly he feels ill at ease, as he were witnessing an intimate scene... and a surge of protectiveness, equally unexpected towards a Dwarf older than him, and that he has always looked at for guidance and reassurance. And maybe that is the problem, is it not?

"Allow me to think about it." he says in the end, since his brother is still waiting "I have... I want to discuss it with Verdandi..."

The older brother nods. "Think about it and then give me an answer. This is all I ask."

"I can do that. I will."

"Good."

They stand, alone in the room. Frerin looks at his brother, and suddenly he feels like a boy once more; so alone, so in need of help, of guidance, of forgiveness. "Thorin..."

"Ssh..."

The King smiles; he is no less noved than his brother, and equally bad at hiding it. "Come here, little brother."

They embrace, and cry together, and ask for and concede forgiveness; that is all it takes, and that it would have taken even sixty-five years ago. And in the end, they both feel better.

Frerin feels his heart lighter, but not yet devoid of preoccupations and guilt, as he returns to his family's quarters, determined to make things right. Verdandi and Sindri are sitting on the bed in the master bedroom, busy with a book of fairytales the child by now knows by heart, and could very well read by himself. But Sindri knows his mother enjoys reading for him, and because of this he lets her, to please her: his mother's smiles have become rare as of late, and he is worried.

"And so, the king of ravens spoke, and he told the prince that the treasure he was looking for was within his reach, if only he..."

"Father, you are back!"

Sindri runs towards his father as soon as he sees him; Frerin kisses his brown, and promises tomorrow they will go visit the shops of the toymakers of Dale. Sindri nods, happier at the prospect of spending an afternoon with his father than of receiving a new toy: he has so many already. "Will mother come as well?"

Frerin glances at his wife, sitting on the bed. "Perhaps." he concedes "Would you leave us for a moment, little gem? Your mother and I need to talk."

Sindri smiles; he is still too young to understand exactly why, but he instinctively perceives talk is exactly what his parents need to do. "All right."

"Have you really punched lord Gurak? In front of the whole council?" Verdandi asks once they are alone and her husband is sitting next to her; she seems horrified, but also amused.

"Yes. Do you know why?"

"I have been told. Frerin, listen..."

"Ssh..."

He kisses her, slowly and passionately, and the intensity of that kiss makes them both shiver; their physical intimacy never suffered, but for some reason that kiss is like a cup of water in the desert. "I love you, Verdandi." he murmurs, suddenly feeling as shy as the first time he told her, and a smile blossoms on his wife's lips.

"I know. I love you too." she answers, as if they were both stating the obvious, but the relief in her smile is telling "This I have never doubted."

Tagging @starlady66 and @elvenenby!!

Frerin smiles back. "I know you have not; but some things deserve to be said nonetheless, and more often than I have in a while." he explains, and then he turns serious "I have something to tell you. There is... a project Thorin has spoken to me about, and that concerns us all. We will decide what to do together... and this time I want you to tell me what you really think."

*****

#Frerin #Frerin son of Thrain #Frerin son of Thráin #Frerin x OFC #Frerin x OC #The Lord of the Rings #The Hobbit #Bellona's stuff

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distinguisheddwarffriend · 9 months ago

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For one of the FilixOFC MGiME fics I'm beginning to write rn:

ONLY regarding Fili/OFC

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marigoldvance · 3 years ago

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Autumn - Kíli x Reader

imagine: a drizzly, grey morning in September with Kíli

Kíli yawns and stretches, his spine popping, one vertebra after the other, like a xylophone. Autumn is a boon for his soul and a bane for his bones. Although he doesn't feel old enough to complain about his joints, hardly over the threshold of 30, it can't be denied that he's at the age where he can distinguish between soreness and aches. Two very different sensations, he'll have you know.

Outside, the sky is downed with dense, grey-black cloud, a mid-September chill breezing through the narrow slit in the window Kíli left open before climbing into bed, when it was still warm.

It's raining; a hard, constant pitter-patter against the roof and windowpanes adds to the ambient weekday noise that filters in. The nasally sound of the school-bus breaks as it climbs the street, and the rise and fall of children's chatter. The plop and splash of wellies in deep puddles chased by dull-to-shrill warnings from parents. Bright arches bob past below, reds and oranges and patterned plastics, some sporting big eyes that ogle him as they go by down below.

Kíli loves the apartment, close to everything while still maintaining a bit of privacy on the second floor. A balcony in the front, off the living room, and another in the back from the kitchen. The rooms are perfectly sized and the wood accents are original, early 20th Century oak, stained honey-warm.

Kíli sighs and grabs his thick, fuzzy socks from the floor, shoving his feet into their soft comfort before squeezing himself into the pillowy, turkey-shaped slippers you bought him last year on a trip to the States. He adores them.

He adores you more, though. And how well you know him, how in sync you are, how it feels like you've lived lifetimes together while still discovering all sorts of new and interesting things about one another.

Fuck it, Kíli thinks, twisting at the waist and leaning his weight on a palm, it's love. He leans across his side of the bed into your space and watches you for a moment as you continue to sleep; the gentle rhythms of your body as you breathe, and flutter of your lashes as you dream.

He whispers a kiss on your bare shoulder, tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear and smiles to himself when your cheek twitches in reaction.

You're adorable, he decides. Again. For probably the millionth-and-one time since meeting you two years ago.

Kíli rises and creeps to the door, leaves the room with a last, lingering gaze over your sleeping form, and makes his way down the hall to the kitchen.

Unlike his brother, Kíli isn't the best at cooking or baking. Don't get him wrong, he can throw together a decent meal if given a recipe (from a book, never from the internet - for some reason those always turn out over- or undercooked and completely unsatisfying. He has a theory that the people who blog their recipes tweak them so that they remain the only people on Earth who can do them justice), but, for all intents and purposes, you do the bulk of the cooking. Something you quite enjoy and he quite enjoys watching you do.

As you skip around, shimmy-shaking to whatever playlist you're into that day, negotiating with the ingredients between verses, and chopping, dicing, zesting and mixing like a musical performance.

Yeah, Kíli can admit he's completely under your thrall and there's nothing he wants to do about it.

He puts the kettle on and rummages through the cupboard above the stove to locate where you put the instant coffee you received from Amazon yesterday. Pumpkin Spice Latte, he reads when he finds it and pulls it out, from Starbucks.

Instant coffee, he can do. And he can do well.

From the fridge, he grabs the milk and pours a decent percentage of it into a saucepan which he places on the smallest element. Into the milk goes a dash of nutmeg, a sprinkle of allspice, a pinch of ginger and a shake-shake-shake of cinnamon that he whisks together as the milk heats up. The kettle clicks off.

In a series of practiced motions, Kíli sweeps into the cupboard where you keep your eclectic collection of mugs - he makes sure to pick an autumn-themed one (he's learned since the incident when he chose a snowman-shaped mug in the middle of July and caught you transferring its contents into a bulbous, pale green mug with cacti painted on when you thought he wasn't looking).

For himself, he picks a simple white mug with the words Keep Calm and Drink Tea in neat cursive on the front.

In your mug, he empties one of the sachets of instant latte mix, in his he drops an Earl Grey teabag, loops the string around the handle and pours the boiled water into both mugs until they're a little less a third filled. Next, he gives the milk a final stir, then tips it into each mug, sets the saucepan aside and reaches for the small, handheld frother tucked into the drawer in the little cart you bought from IKEA.

Once your coffee is nicely fluffed, Kíli sprinkles more nutmeg on top of the foam and smiles in satisfaction when the aroma of perfectly blended pumpkin spice hits his nose. Yes, he did good, if he does say so himself.

He retrieves the tray he found at the weekend market - a warm, cozy autumn aesthetic painted on the laminated wood - and proceeds to place your mug at the corner.

Thankfully, as he was off exploring the market, you decided to bake a spread of goodies from pumpkin spice muffins to cinnamon biscuits to crumbly apple cake. Most of the treats are to be packaged sweetly and divided between your family and Kíli's so nothing goes to waste, but, since that hasn't happened yet, Kíli plucks a muffin from the box and puts it on the tray beside your coffee.

He follows that up with an expertly ratioed bowl of your favorite cereal and two pieces of toast smeared in Nutella for himself.

Perfect.

Now, the finishing touch.

Tiptoeing into the living room - glancing quickly into the bedroom to ensure you're still sound asleep - Kíli sneaks over to the bookshelf and grabs a copy of the dictionary he's had since he was in school. He reaches into the empty space it leaves behind, his fingers closing around a small, velvet box.

As quickly and quietly as he can, Kíli scurries back to the kitchen and arranges the box - a burnt orange color that you always say reminds you of the trees in October back home - behind you mug, so you'll find it only after you've had your first taste of Kíli's stupendously mixed coffee.

You'll have to say yes then.

With a rallying breath and a nod to himself, Kíli collects the tray and pads back toward the bedroom.

You wake to an ode of how much you're loved: a smattering of dry, loving kisses to your shoulder and brow, the crispness of a damp autumn breeze and the comforting pitter-patter of rain against the roof. And, of course, the delicious smell of pumpkin spice.

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exquisitley-obsessed · 7 years ago

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The Three Women Of Durin - An Awakening (1)

Summary:

Three girls: Rosie, Frankie and Cece find themselves rolling off the side of a road and crashing in a thicket of trees. It's a tumble downhill, full of bumps, bruises but thankfully, no broken bones. Waking up from the crash, they find themselves somewhere magical, mysterious and that was certainly not home. Discovered by a strange-looking man, he leads them back to the main road...of Middle Earth.

They are in the story of The Hobbit, trapped and unsure of how to get back. They are then faced with the fact that they will not be going home any time soon, so will they help the dwarves reclaim theirs?

MASTERLIST FOR THS STORY

Okay, before I start this story, I'd just like to say that what happened, happened. We had no idea how to get back, or what to do really. We cannot be sorry for the changes we made. We only did what we thought was right.

(gif not mine)

"Okay, if you two don't shut the hell up, I'm coming back there myself!" Rosie growled through gritted teeth as her patience wore thin with her best friends. Those friends in question were currently sat in the back of the crappy rental car, squabbling. The three of them were going on a road trip to the theme park in the next town, a trip that was supposed to be a treat. Frankie and Cece had argued the main part of the journey to the car on who was to be riding shotgun for Rosie to eventually decide that no one was going to, and then they continued to argue inside the car on who got to play their music, Rosie again shut the argument down by simply turning on the radio.

"Rosie, pull over," Cece suddenly piped from the back, she wrapped her nimble fingers around Rosie's head rest and swung around so that her long golden hair now dangled on top of the gear stick.

"Cece if you need to pee again, I swear to god -" Rosie began her frustration getting the better of her as she batted Cece's hair away. Don't get me wrong, Rosie loved her friends more than she would ever let on, but no quality friendships last without the odd fight here and there.

"No, no, I was wanting to take a photo," Cece smiled sweetly, she had that niceness about her that never seemed to perish, it was both a gift and a curse. Rosie sighed at this, however, turned the wheel and slowly brought the rustic Saturn to a halt. The three of them were on their very first holiday, in England, which all though had a few grey clouds and was infinitely colder than America, was pretty damn photogenic.

However, you could say that Rosie had gotten used to the rolling, green hills and grey sun because she had lived here for fifteen years. However, her parents had made the decision to move to America, where they would be closer to her dad's side of the family. Moving to America had ultimately been both the best and worst thing to ever happen to Rosie because that's where she just so happened to meet Frankie and Cece who have ultimately have made her life so beautifully blissful yet so fiercely frustrating.

"Okay, come on girlies, back in the car, let's get going," Rosie smiled at her friends from where she leaned lazily on the bonnet, they each clambered back in the car, still with Rosie in the front and Frankie and Cece in the back. After arguing some more about what music to play, Rosie turned on the radio once more and rolled down the windows, the crisp, clean air flooding into the car causing their hair and clothes to dance to the music. It wasn't too long until they joined in with the voice on the radio, belting out the words, singing loudly and very out of tune. They continued like this for a while, enjoying the happy moment which in itself was small, but to them was memorable, when it happened.

The car, it came out of nowhere. Nowhere. It wasn't their fault, anyone could tell that. But they're the ones who paid for it.

Rosie's whole body froze with fear when she drove over the hill, the cars headlights glaring at her like the eyes of a bull charging straight for her. Without thinking, she jerked the wheel to the left where she thought she was driving her and her friends to safety. However, the thicket of tall trees she then drove into proved her wrong. They lurched downhill, their happy songs turning into piercing screams, their music now a million miles away. The trees and wildlife flew past them, some branches even getting caught on the open windows. A particularly low branch slammed against the windshield, shattering it. Rosie managed to cover her face just in time but still felt the edges of shards make their way into her hair and cut her arm. Rosie slammed her foot on the brakes so hard that the impact shuddered through the rest of her body. It was a shame because she was a split-second too late. By the time Rosie's foot met with the pedal the car had crashed into what could only be a thick, towering tree. The sickening smell of gas filled her lungs, the screams of the three girls dying out sickeningly quick, the taste of burning rubber filled the air and the feel of broken metal and shattered glass pierced their bodies. All turned dark.

Everything seemed to hurt in its own way. Her lungs burned, her joints ached and her skin stung. But, she could feel. Slowly she shifted awkwardly from where she was lying down, the crunch of glass following her as she moved. She opened her eyes and after a moment of blinding, white light she saw tall trees reaching for the sky above her, she was alive, she was okay. Looking down at her body, she saw bruises and cuts, some awkward lumps and bumps but no broken bones, thank God. Carefully, she sat up feeling her breath rattling in her chest. Tentatively she raised a hand, pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temple before running her fingers through her short, shoulder length brown hair where she managed to pick out some of the larger shards of glass.

Looking behind her she found the wreckage that was the rustic Saturn. Shit, Rosie thought as she scrambled up and towards the mess of steel and glass ignoring the painful sensation this caused through her body. Like she thought, the car had crashed into a thick tree, however, the impact must have caused her to break through her seatbelt and go flying through the already smashed windshield. Ater attempting to open the doors with little success she decided that the only way she was going to get in was by climbing through the hole in the windshield.

Pulling herself onto what was left of the bonnet, she made her way through the mess. Almost instantly, she saw the long blonde hair of Cece and the curly afro of Frankie. She clawed her way to the back seat feeling the odd sting when her bare skin was cut by sharp, broken material.

Rosie reached out and wrapped her fingers around the closest hand, which just so happened to be the hand of Frankie. For a moment, she stayed a still as she possibly could, holding her breath as she waited to hear it. And then there it was, the steady, shaky breath of both girls. Slowly, Rosie moved further forward now placing both hands on Frankie and began to shake her, hoping she would wake up, she didn't, but she was breathing, she was breathing.

Rosie looked behind her, contemplating on whether it was worth dragging Frankie all the way over the two seats and back through the windshield. Deciding against it, she raised her foot and kicked as hard as she could against the cracked window that was closest and carefully cleared away all the small pieces of glass. She then climbed out herself first before wrapping her arms under Frankie's armpit and pulling her out with as much caution as possible. When she had managed to get Frankie onto the soft grass she found herself still pulling her away. She dragged Frankie's limp body further and further away from the wreckage until she was satisfied. Then she stood up and made her way back to the car for her other best friend.

Cece was in more of a state, part of the car had crushed down on top of her right-hand side, a tree branch had fallen from when they crashed into the tree and Cece had paid for that. Rosie had to use all her remaining strength to lift what she could of the roof and with shaky arms pull Cece's limp form out. Cece was the only one bleeding badly, she had a long cut on her right arm which was, thankfully, not bleeding too much, but unfortunately, she too was unconscious.

Sighing, Rosie lifted her hand and wiped away some beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead before deciding to go and find help. Turning around she began walking the way the car came, her legs feeling as if someone had poured rocks into her shoes, and an overwhelming tiredness thrumming through her body. It wasn't too long before she realised something was off. There were no tracks where the car had been driven off the road, and the land was pretty much flat, even though she could distinctly remember driving downhill. Not being able to find the road they were driving on, she made her way back to her unconscious friends.

They lay side by side, slowly breathing. It dawned on Rosie that if someone were to walk past they would simply look as if they were taking a nap in the woods. She then realised that someone was probably coming, there were a few drivers on the road at that point of time, someone must have seen them crash. Rosie looked down at her friends before making sure they were in the safe position before she moved about a foot back and rested against a tree.

Then, she began to shake, she couldn't believe it, she crashed a fucking rental car and almost killed her best friends. Why did she swerve so harshly? If she did it a bit calmer they wouldn't have gone so far. Now they were in a mess because of her and she couldn't find the way back. Before she could stop herself, a sob escaped her lips, and then she realised there was no one around to hear her cry, so she let go.

She cried long and hard, reaching out and grasping onto the fingers of her unconscious friends, she cried until her throat was raw, had no more tears left and had lost her voice. When she quieted down a silence filled the air, it was heavy and crushingly lonely. Then, the snapping of some twigs nearby alerted her, people. Jumping up she turned around, hope spreading through her chest like fire, she was going to be safe.

However, what she didn't expect was to see a very strange man emerge from the bushes, dressed as if he was from another world.

He was taller than her, by about an inch, but the way his body was proportioned you'd think he would be shorter. He had large feet wrapped in, what looked like, space boots and was wearing a long oversized brown shirt with brown trousers, a belt, and cape, he had crazy untamed black hair and very long grey beard where white and black braids were knotted in place. But the weirdest thing of all was the droning sense of familiarity that nagged at the back of Rosie's mind when she saw him, oh and the large scythe he was carrying.

"Hello?" She said in a questioning voice, realising how she too must look crazy in his eyes, all bruised and battered and some lovely new fresh cuts from crawling through glass whilst standing next to two unconscious bodies. The strange man didn't respond, his eyes were steady and calm as he looked her over. He seemed to be going somewhere, with a sort of backpack on his shoulders, maybe he didn't hear the crash? "I know I must look mad but can you help me?" She pleaded.

He didn't say anything for a few antagonizing moments, then he nodded. "As you can see me and my friends here," she gestured to the unconscious bodies at her feet, "Have had a car crash and they're unconscious and I think we need a doctor and I just can't find the main road." Rosie rambled, hoping that some of what she was saying was getting through to him. The phrase ‘main road' appeared to grab his attention judging by the fact that he began making sudden hand gestures which looked like signing. The pin dropped in Rosie's mind. "Oh, um, sorry I didn't, um…never mind. Can you lead us to the main road," She asked sweetly, mentally cursing for not realising that this man was deaf. Once again, he nodded. "And if it isn't a trouble can you call an ambulance," She said, he raised an eyebrow. "Oh um, can you get some medical help for me and my friends," She gestured once again to the unconscious bodies at her feet. This didn't seem to get to him, however, he did begin walking closer to Rosie, a limp in his step.

Rosie felt herself freeze up, a small ball of fear growing in her gut the closer he got. One of the last things she expected him to do was bend down and throw Frankie's limp form over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers. Rosie then looked down at Cece and then back at this man wondering if he expected her to do the same. However, he bent down again and before Rosie knew it, Cece was on his other shoulder. Getting lost in thought as she watched him do this, Rosie didn't even notice him walking away, set and ready for the journey to the main road. Rosie went to follow him when she remembered.

"Oh, sorry can you just pause a moment," She called after him, he turned around and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. She scrambled back to the car and picked out everything that was theirs: phones (Cece's was unfortunately smashed), bags, scraps of food and a bottle of water, and finally her sunglasses. She was more cautious this time of traveling around the wreckage, shuddering as the image of the car's headlights heading straight for her came to mind. She clambered back out wearing three bags and holding a large assortment of items. If possible, this man's eyebrow raised even further, he then turned around and walked back into the bushes. She followed and they walked in silence.

Rosie felt like she had been walking for years when they reached a small path, she was sure the car hadn't travelled this far into the woods but she could not be sure. Anyways, she trusted this man, he seemed friendly, even though he did not talk, he carried her best friends without complaint. For a while now Rosie had been staring at the strange metal headdress he wore, wondering what in God's name made him think it looked good. Obviously, he was a part of some sort of culture or something, she was too tired and her body was too sore to think of this now. All she wanted was a hot water bottle, a cosy warm bed, and the knowledge that her friends were going to be okay.

They walked some more until they finally reached a gritty path which wove in twists and turns through some soft, green hills. This looked familiar. However, maybe this was her tired brain talking or maybe she didn't realise it before, but something was different. The grass was greener and the air was more pleasant to breathe somehow, like it was purer? It all seemed so familiar yet so strange, she was wondering just which main road this man was taking her too when she saw it.

They clambered up another small hill, Rosie's muscles screaming after the long journey. When the scene turned into something so familiar it was impossible not to recognise it. Now, she may be high off car fumes, or maybe she just hit her head a little too hard, but she was pretty damn sure the shire just opened up in front of her. It was just like the movies. Little homes tucked into the hills, the circular multi-coloured doors, the stream of smoke coming from little chimneys. It was that and so much more. She saw someone idling along the path before them, carrying a basket and whistling a blissful tune, a bounce in their step. Rosie's eyes darted to their feet to see if the crazy idea that was thrumming through her head was true, and there it was, a pair of oversized and very hairy hobbit feet.

"Oh my god," Rosie managed to choke out feeling fairly faint. Turning to the man next to her who continued to trudge up along the path, realisation washed over her like water. "Bifur…" she almost whispered, but it was enough for his head to snap around with quite a large grin, he nodded eagerly then continued walking. What. The. Hell. Night had fallen and the sky was no more than a dark blue pulse. They made their way up to a very familiar green door.

See the thing is Rosie knew of the hobbit, of course she knew about it. She went through a full phase of reading hypotheses online, but she was not obsessed, she knew the story, she knew the bitter sweet ending, but she didn't know it as well as say, Harry Potter. But one thing she did know for sure is that herself, Frankie and Cece were certainly not supposed to be here.

Bifur gave a quick wrap on the door and from the boisterous noise and laughter coming from inside, she could tell that they were not first to arrive. Rosie felt her heart thud rapidly as the door opened her brain continuously telling her that this wasn't real, that she wasn't here, she couldn't be. But before she knew it, before her stood a very small Bilbo Baggins. He looked tired and a little ruffled, she felt her heart reach out for him knowing all too well the reason for how annoyed he looked.

By this point, he just stood to the side and let Bifur walk in. Rosie stood there for a moment, staring at who her brain was telling her was Martin Freeman, before she realising he was giving her a weird stare, she lurched forward into his cosy home, trying to hide her shaking hands.

"Aye Bifur! Where ya' been laddie!" Rosie heard someone call in the other room in a thickly accented voice. There was no response but there was laughter and love in the air.

"What ya' got there Bifur? Been scouting out some dwarrows!" Another playful voice called out. "Would you like to follow me?" A small voice said from below, she nodded slowly looking down at Bilbo who looked so utterly fed up with life and nodded slowly. Bilbo led her into a hallway where in the room to her left all the dwarves were sat at a dinner table, on her right she could see her two friends laid carefully on two couches they both barely fit on. Turning back to the room on her left she felt a stab of fear hit her in the gut and she scurried behind the frame of the door. Keeping her body hidden she peeked her head around the corner, her mind completely blank at the situation at hand. She stared at the group and saw all her favorite characters live and in flesh, Bofur, Fili, Kili, Dwalin… the list went on, what she did notice was there was no Thorin, that gave her an idea of how far through the story they were. Whilst the group was sitting Bifur down and handing him a plate of meats and potatoes Rosie heard a voice behind her.

"Why hello there," A soft voice said causing Rosie to nearly jump out of her skin, turning around she felt her jaw hang openly because standing before her was none other than Gandalf the Grey. Rosie felt the colour drain from her face and had the sudden urge to throw up her empty stomach. "Are you quite alright?" He asked, genuinely concerned, as no words seemed to be either forming in her head or falling out of her mouth, Rosie mustered up a nod. She could do this, this was just some horrid dream, she would wake up soon and everything would be fine, she's probably somewhere in a hospital, someone's probably called her parents, they're probably flying over here now, everything was going to be alright, everything is going to be, alright. "I believe you are not from here," Gandalf spoke wisely looking down at her. It was then Rosie realised exactly how small she really was. Gandalf towered over her in a way that she never expected to experience in her lifetime. She again in response could only manage a head shake. "Ah, that is okay, I see that you are destined for this quest, come meet the others," and before she could complain Gandalf placed his large hand on her back and gently pushed into the candlelight, where all the dwarves turned their heads and looked straight at her.

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kilikina34512 · 2 years ago

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Like Father, Like Son

I have discovered that a fun way to waste some time while stuck with a cold is to write a drabble. I remembered the scene from TFATWS where Sam and Bucky are having the staring contest at the police station and it spurred this idea. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, Sam Wilson x OFC (Jessa) Summary: One argument between Sam and Bucky's sons show just how much like their fathers they really are. Warnings: One swear word Word Count: 877

The hot Louisiana sun shone through the shade of the trees that surrounded Sarah's house. While it hadn't been long since you had been there for the fourth of July celebration they had every year, the Wilsons were basically family and you often got together on the weekends to cook out, especially during the summer.

You loved these days. Sam and your husband, Bucky, had slowed down on the "saving the world" gig and were more consultants and trainers to the newer generation of heroes. Not that you or Bucky minded. He had been overly ready to step back from fighting and you were relieved to not have to worry that you'd get an unwanted visit from Sam at the end of a mission.

The two men had become best friends, although they'd still never admit it. They were as close as each had been with Steve, but their friendship was vastly different than the one they'd had with the original Captain America. Despite always having each other's backs, seeking the other's advice, and doing things together, the pair still had moments of strong disagreements, poking and prodding at one another, and even the famous "staring contest" whenever neither wanted to back down or admit they were wrong. And thanks to your husband's natural broodiness, his staring game was always on point.

As you were witnessing currently from the picnic table you were sat at with Sam's sister.

"They at it again?" Jessa, Sam's wife, asked as she came to sit down beside Sarah.

"Sure are," you confirmed. "I keep waiting for the day one of them actually shoots lasers out of their eyes or kills the other with the strength of their glare."

Sarah chuckled, "If that ever happened, they'd be broken hearted, but they'd never show it." All three of you knew how they worked and you'd all grown used to it. Sarah was Sam's brother after all, Jessa had been married to him for eighteen years, and you and Bucky had been married for twenty years. "What's it about this time?"

"The proper way to cook a steak."

"God, I'm so tired of hearing that one," Jessa complained. "It's all he'll talk about on the way home."

"I'll give you that," you said, "but Bucky's broodiness is like an aura of its own and it makes the ride annoying because he's not going to complain until we're in bed. I'd rather hear the argument and be done with it personally."

"Good point," she conceded.

"I don't envy either of you. I enjoy not having to hear it now that Sam doesn't live here," Sarah smiled as you both glowered good naturedly in her direction.

Voices rising from near the water drew your attention away from the pair of grilling Avengers and to the two sixteen-year-old boys who looked to be in their own heated argument. Your eyebrows furrowed as you redirected Jessa's gaze in the same direction before rising and making your way over to see what was happening. As you got closer, you heard bits and pieces of what was being said before you finally just called out over them, "Boys, what's going on?"

"He asked Tara if she'd go out for a ride on their family boat with him when he knows I've been trying to get with her!"

"Dude, she asked me to go out with her! It's not my fault you can't keep a girl!"

"Fuck you!"

"Grant," you chided sternly, "don't you dare use that kind of language, especially not to your family!"

The other teenager opened his mouth, but before a word could escape his lips, Jessa walked up beside you. "I know you're not about to respond to that Steven," she warned. You and Jessa had gotten pregnant around the same time and much to both of yours's dismay, both men had wanted to name their sons after their first best friend. Many arguments had been had until it had been agreed that whoever was born first would be named Steven and the latter would be Grant. Sam and Jessa had Steven six weeks before your son Grant had been born. The two grew up together to the point of calling each other cousins, so to see a girl coming between them surprised you, even if it wasn't uncommon for boys to fight over them.

"Mom," Steven whined, "Grant is being a baby about this as if he can't handle a little competition."

"I can handle the competition," your son responded quickly, his face red with indignation, "I'll have her with me at the summer party next weekend."

Steven chuckled, sounding exactly like his own father, despite the serious expression on his face. "You won't even get a chance to ask her 'cause she'll already be going with me."

"Bring it on, Steve." Your son began to glare at Steven. The boy was a carbon copy of his father from head to toe, and the brooding glare he adopted as he crossed his arms was just like his father's. Steven had picked up his own glare with crossed arms pose, his feet spread as his cockiness rose.

You looked back at the grill to see their fathers in the exact same pose as their sons before sighing in exasperation. You shared a look with Jessa before admitting, "Maybe they're more like their fathers than we thought."

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #sam wilson #sam wilson x ofc #sam and bucky staring contest #kili stories

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