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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

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Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #having steve write letters to everyone was sparked by jonathans even tho the wonder twins dont admit that #it was a passing comment when he walked in on Will explaining the difference between sorcerer and warlock to El and Porcelain Steve #just a quick 'i wonder what steve would have to say about this if he could talk'#and will and el were like! yes! what WOULD he say? El talk to him #and it evolved from there #also its not said because how would Eddie know? but the list of questions in different handwriting is Joyce's #to avoid campaign spoilers for Will‚ el asked joyce to write that part #they go through all the questions but im not writing those #this was mostly to get a little bit of Steve in here #feels weird to write a steddie fic where steve hasnt even spoken until 9k+ words into the fic #especially since i am NOT a slow burn person‚ not that i count this as slow burn #how do you define slow burn? does this count? help a girl out and let me know

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moonshine-nightlight · 1 year ago

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirty-Two

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 32

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] Part Thirty-Two [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

While the luncheon was laid out in the great hall and the guests were encouraged to enjoy the grounds and gardens, you and Dale are tucked away in the administrative wing of the estate.

After the knot tying you together was carefully burned, you headed to grandmother’s public office, where she receives officials and conducted business with the many administrators that were needed to keep Northridge running.

With the sacred ceremony complete, there is still the matter of the legal one.

“Thank you, Mr. Murray, Miss Adir,” Dale says to his valet and your maid. “My spouse and I will wait for my grandparents and you may return to supervising the packing of our belongings.”

A small smile graces your face at Dale’s words because they drive home that he is no longer your betrothed, but your spouse. Your husband. Yours.

“Yes, my lord,” the servants chorus, enough amusement in their eyes that you’re not certain they entirely believe in the necessity of Dale’s request. Well, the reasoning is sound, but so is the idea that two newlyweds might want a few moments alone together. They depart without any fuss.

Dale immediately looks around the room, his expression intent enough that it pierces your light mood. You frown and ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Dale says. “I was only—there it is.” He strides behind Grandmother’s desk for a pitcher of water. “Just thirsty.”

Watching how he swallows nearly a whole glass with a grimace, you frown. Cautiously, you ask, “Are you certain that is all?”

“I—,” Dale starts to brush off your concern, you can see the dismissal in his body language before he pauses. “Oh, I, everything is fine. My throat is simply sore. This water is more than adequate to soothe it.”

“The holy water did hurt you,” you say—it's not a question.

Looking almost sheepish, he nods. “I was very diligent in my preparations this week, very pious.” He sounds a little defensive, likely due to you telling him you figured out what he was. “I visited the monsacrin every night for a blessed drink. The sanctif let me take them away with me. I wanted to ensure I would not be overcome today. However, my throat is still sore.”

Tolerance or practice? is your first thought. Was he doing something to his throat to mitigate contact, as you think he might have when the sanctif demonstrated his detection lens on Dale’s hand? Or did he merely practice drinking holy water in private until he could do so with a straight face? Neither are cheering thoughts, although you feel guilty at being reassured that this morning was not a plan developed in advance. That he’d in fact been doing the opposite. “Is your throat burned in some manner? Or are the muscles in some way affected?”

Dale blinks at you before he grins. “Are you certain you are not a true physician, sana?”

“Dale,” you warn despite his flattery, not wanting to be easily diverted from your question.

“Some of each,” he tells you easily enough, although not until after a second long drink from his water glass. “The muscles are a bit stiff, the lining a bit damaged. I did need to continue to breathe and swallow so I could only pull back my physical influence on this body so much.”

Good to know. You had been wondering. You reach into your pockets, glad your full-size pockets had still been able to fit unobtrusively under even this fine gown. “I have a tea blend with me that soothes the throat, although it will work better with honey.” You join him at the cart with tea supplies, taking the kettle and settling it boil. “Grandmother occasionally enjoys some as a sweetener, but we could also send for it. That shouldn’t provoke any notice.”

“The licorice tea?” Dale sounds hopeful as he peers over your shoulder. The feeling of him so close is more distracting than you wish it was. You want to focus on making him feel better, not on how you can sense his body behind you and how you want to lean back just enough to touch. “I used it the third night to great effect.”

You stop what you're doing, turning to frown at him. “But it didn’t help the other nights?”

Dale shrugs, reaching around you to pluck a small jar from the other side of the sugar bowl. He sets the honey next to the cup you’d selected. “I only had the one bag.”

“Why did you just ask for more?” You’re more confused than offended. “Even if I didn’t know, I’d happily have given you more tea.”

Dale holds very still, still enough you notice, at your words. His eyes darken, pupils expanding just enough to make them look inhuman. You wait him out, now able to recognize when he needs time to think. He blinks only a few seconds later and he merely shrugs helplessly. “That did not occur to me. I’m rather used to being on my own.”

“Well, you’re not anymore,” you say, unable to think of anything else. You swallow down all your questions about what part of it didn’t occur to him or questions about his solitary past. “So next time, ask me for help.”

His smile is indulgent and pleased. “Yes, sana.”

The kettle whistles causing you both to jump. Dale reaches around you, taking half a step towards the hearth. You turn back to the cup you’re fixing for him, pulling the honey jar closer, when Dale lets out a quiet noise of surprise. Before you can turn to see what’s happening, his large hand lands on your waist. You barely keep from letting out a surprised yelp as his grip tightens just enough to make it clear he’s using you to steady himself from his position, half leaned down to reach the kettle.

“My apologies,” Dale says as he straightens and lets go of you. You can feel the ghost of his touch and you’re surprised by how much you want it back. “I lost my balance for a second.”

“You should set the kettle down and fetch your cane,” you say, pointing to the heat resistant mat for the freshly heated kettle. You do not want him to trip again while holding it.

“Yes, I should,” Dale says to you as he does just that. He rejoins you at the serving cart with his primary cane, the one with the jade sword in it. He adds, almost to himself, “And I thought my balance memory had been improving.”

You add the appropriate amount of honey and stir it for him. Usually, you let such comments slide, and you’re fairly certain this one was only said because he knows you know now, but perhaps because you do know you, and the two of you are alone, you can ask, “Balance memory?”

“Memory to balance is perhaps more accurate,” Dale replies absently as he leans on the newly gotten cane and accepts the cup of tea you prepared for him. He inhales appreciatively and takes a sip, not bothering to attempt to blow on it to cool the hot tea. Whatever the holy water did to his throat, it must not be a normal burn—temperature never seems to bother him. “Delicious,” he rasps after finishing half the cup at once and with an appreciative smile at you.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but it must not be too obvious as Dale appears to notice your confusion over his words more than anything else.

He clears his throat, looking a bit more nervous, as he says, “I, well, typically—that is, prior to being Dale, my form was amorphous and adaptable to my needs to a far greater extent.”

He’s watching your expression closely, clearly ready to stop talking if you…if you what? Look afraid? Or bored? Angry? You don’t know so you try to look neutrally curious as best as you can.

He continues, “If there was a dip in the ground or someone bumped into me or I leaned over too far, a limb would simply… adapt.”

You desperately want to know more but the moment feels fragile, Dale so cautious about talking openly about himself so you try to keep your words soft and simple. “How?”

“Growing longer, short, thicker.” Dale shrugs. “Whatever would be helpful to keep my balance. In physical activity or altercations, I would have been maintaining tight, conscious control over my form as a matter of course and so it is now. However, when not paying it much mind, during routine movement…”

Of course, you realize, it's no different than how you think of such things—you pay attention when stairs are steep or you’re wearing a particular item of clothing that you need to move differently in, but you don’t think about how to walk when nothing is unusual. It’s beneath your general notice. “You didn’t have to give it any attention.”

“Correct.” Dale looks relieved you understand. “And so in such circumstances, even now, my instinct is to flex my form, but I should not—and cannot to some extent now. So I falter instead. The cane is helpful as a reminder and as an aid.”

You ponder this as Dale drinks. What other instincts must he be fighting or controlling? You’d thought him careless, and perhaps he was at times, but in retrospect, his more obvious missteps seem to be when he was new to Dale or when he was particularly distracted or hungry. Thoughtless, but not careless actions.

“Thank you for the tea,” Dale’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you see him setting the empty cup back on the saucer. He seems a bit subdued, or cautious, but perhaps he’s only attempting to be gentle with his voice on his throat.

“You’re certain you don’t need anything more? Nothing else burned you?” You scan his features for hints of holy water or sacred wax burns. You try not to get caught up just looking at him. His face is more his than the original Dale’s now, at least to you, and it's more attractive for it.

“No, no, the wax wasn’t pleasant, or minimizing my influence wasn’t, but it's already removed.” You look down and see the white wax, which still sticks loosely to the back of your hand, has already fallen off his, without leaving a mark. Or perhaps Dale had subtly flicked it off once out of the monsacrin.

“Good, good. While waiting for the ceremony to start, I’ll admit I began to worry that even the amount of light might be too much.”

“No, no. I’m not abyssal, I’m a sort of shade.” At your look of continued confusion, Dale carefully elaborates, “Shadow, not darkness. Shadow needs light to exist, it’s why we’re close to the surface even in the Depths and why we’re more able to handle the Surface, even if we need a vessel. I could suffer some negative effects if left exposed in strong direct sunlight, but to my understanding, so can humans.”

You're startled at the comparison, but he’s correct. “Yes, no one appreciates being sunburned.” Your mind spins with new information, is it going to be this easy to discuss such matters now? Will you finally be able to get to know all the things he’s kept hidden?

“Quite.”

The sound of the door opening is surprising enough you both turn quickly towards it. Dale’s hand goes to his sword without thought, only for Grandfather’s voice to be easily heard as Steward Bilmont walks in.

“…not a cloud in sight,” he’s saying, “the best sort of luck.” You think there’s an underlying irony to Grandfather’s tone that’s more humorous than worried now that this morning’s events have been resolved favorably. It reminds you of when Dale says things you thought were asides about his nature to you but evidently were only to himself.

“It was beautiful,” your mother answers, satisfaction in her voice that reminds you of when she finishes negotiations on a particularly favorable trade contract.

“There they are!” Grandmother announces as the group enters the room. Any wonder regarding if she’d been informed however briefly that the wedding had been called off is put to rest. There’s no chance Grandfather even hinted at such a thing. She pulls Dale into a hug, placing a kiss on his cheek, before tugging you over as well. She has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Congratulations, I am so happy for you,” she continues, joy evident in her expression. She focuses on Dale. “My grandson, married.”

“Grandmother,” Dale says, fondness evident in his voice.

“Yes, yes,” she pulls back, straightening his jacket. “You are not here to listen to your Grandmother’s pride. You are here for your own.”

“Grandmother,” Dale repeats, sounding a little more exasperated.

Grandmother just winks before turning to her desk where her secretary has begun to arrange the paperwork required for officially swearing in yourself and Dale as the reigning couple running Northridge.

“My child, you did well.” Your mother pulls you into an embrace as well, her flowery perfume overwhelming, but the hug is appreciated as is the sentiment. Asher does too, the only sibling present since he’s the one inheriting Portsmith, while your father works with his secretary on arranging the Portsmith paperwork.

Callalily had to do something similar, sign the contracts clarifying her and her descendants' place in the inheritance order since she’d also married an inheriting lord. You’re not sure what Marigold had to sign. It was likely just a formality given her intention not to have children and her spouse wasn’t likely to inherit either. Douglas remains where he is, no marriage plans in sight—and nothing you’ve seen of him these past few days changes that impression, his sacrifice to distract mother aside.

“Dale, this is for you,” Grandfather presents him with a new, exquisite pen which Dale accepts with appropriate gravity and gratitude.

The actual signing of the paperwork is rather boring, but you appreciate the continued respite from crowds. The Northridge charters are the more complex and there are a lot of them. The various papers solidifying what it's yours solely, what authority Grandmother and Grandfather maintain, what would cause any changes to that, Northridge’s succession line. That document does prompt a significant look from Grandmother as after Dale, the fief would go to Dale’s cousin Ferdinand and his child. Luckily she doesn’t actually say anything about heirs—yet.

Instead, she presents Dale with his signet ring—from one Lady of Northridge to her heir. Grandfather gives you your own too and the smile on his face as he does so convinces you that any suspicion he once had for you is in the past.

There is a new formal inheritance list for Portsmith that’s officially signed too, placing yourself and Dale properly in the order along with any future children you might have—the typical rules that Northridge’s heir could not also inherit Portsmith are laid out. Some wish to combine fiefs, but those tend to be people who are particularly ambitious, new to nobility, or neighbors. Most wish to keep traditions and holdings separate. Not to mention the combination of certain fiefs is severely scrutinized by the Crown.

Of course, most of this is hypothetical and not expected to be needed. Asher has plenty of children to carry on the Portsmith line. Still, your family likes to be thorough and the Northridges have had enough surprises in recent succession to agree.

Since all the details had already been worked out, and no one tries to throw last minute spanners into the works, the whole process goes smoothly if a bit long. You sign the Northridge paperwork first, allowing you to sign the Portsmith ones with your new Northridge title. All the witnesses sign as well and it’s done. You’re now officially of Northridge and Dale is the reigning lord.

As soon as celebratory drinks are in everyone’s hands, Grandmother escorts the group to their family hall. It's clear this is the portion of the inheritance tradition she was looking forward to. “Right this way, we have had everything prepared, but even I have not laid eyes on the new additions.”

Your country home had something similar, but far less official—all the portraits are from different eras and hopelessly outdated. You think yours is from when you went off to schooling at fifteen, which perhaps isn’t too long ago, but Marigold’s is when she was that age too. There are other more recent portraits throughout the manor, but a family portrait gallery isn’t particularly important to Portsmith traditions. The city estate at the port doesn’t even have that—gifted portraits or those bought to curry favor with different interests are what decorate its halls.

Northridge’s family hall is large and organized, with multiple portraits for family members at significant stages in life going back generations. With Dale’s marriage and inheritance, Grandmother has commissioned new portraits of him and you together. You sat for the painting when you first arrived, most of your figure had been completed before Dale arrived home, with only a session or two sat together. It had been a quiet, stiff affair and you’d been grateful when you could leave the painter to his work. You had stopped by his studio in the city, allowed him to make the adjustments and touch-ups he felt necessary, but they had not been terribly long.

When you finally come to a halt, there are not one or two portraits covered in sheets for a dramatic reveal—Grandmother insisted—but three.

You’d been shown around the gallery when you first arrived, paying most attention to Grandmother and Grandfather’s as well as Dale’s parents and only coming back for a refresher when more of Dale’s family had begun to arrive. It is still grand and intimidating, more so with yourself being added now.

“We are going to have a new portrait commissioned as well,” Grandmother says as they walk by her and Grandfather’s most recent portrait from at least twenty years ago. There’s a severity to them and a grief that tells it was only a few years after the loss of their son and daughter-in-law. They deserve to have a happier portrait hanging. The Northridge coat of arms, which used to hang above their portrait, has already been moved to hang over the unrevealed portrait of yourself and Dale. The wall above them looks strangely bare with its removal.

You gather around the unrevealed paintings in a half circle and Grandmother waits for everyone’s attention. “To commemorate your rise to Lord of Northridge and your marriage, there are three portraits to reveal. Firstly, I am delighted to reveal the official portrait of Dale Tiberius Archibald Remmington Quincey, Lord of Northridge.”

Bilmont pulls back the blue cloth to show the portrait of Dale in his black, white, and blue suit, the one which mirrored the Northridge colors on the crest now a few feet above the still hidden joint portrait. It too had been started when Dale first arrived, before the current Dale had taken over, and some of the original Dale’s arrogance and haughtiness is evident in his posture and the line of his back.

Still, the artist had seen Dale since he’d changed and there are hints of that throughout. His stare is direct but less condescending, the blue of his eyes more vivid, but also kinder. He looks, not older, but more mature—the youth in his fearlessness tempered. It’s a masterful blend of both Dales and you’re relieved that it leans towards the new Dale without making the contrast between this portrait and the one prior to his travels too stark.

“It is lovely, Grandmother,” Dale says, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course it is,” she preens. “I was certain your travels and return would help you to grow into this responsibility. This portrait makes it obvious, how much you have matured into the man I always knew you could be. I am certain your parents would be proud of you.”

Dale is obviously at a loss for words and so are you, feeling a pang of pity for Grandmother, who could not see what her grandson had become nor that he is gone. Neither of you have to say anything because she continues before you can.

“And I have not overlooked your influence, my dear.” Grandmother’s cloudy eyes still manage to narrow in on you without difficulty. “Each day you have been here, you have solidified my knowledge that you were the perfect partner for my Dale. As you can see from the halls, traditions vary, but for you I knew we would want a portrait of you in your own right. Your parents were so understanding when I wrote to them.”

You turn in surprise to see them giving you a knowing smile. “We came to a most equitable arrangement. A copy of our most recent portrait of you,” you mother says with a pleased smile.

“In exchange for a copy of the portrait of you and your husband,” your father finishes. He nods to Bilmont and the steward obligingly reveals the portrait your parents had commissioned of you.

For a second, you’re concerned that they’ll have merely replicated the one of you at fifteen. You do not mind that portrait—you had been immensely proud of standing for it at the time under your own power and looking wonderfully adult to your young eyes—but even after your first return from school, you had been struck by how young and frail you’d looked in it.

This is a new portrait of you in a favored blue dress—not quite the vibrant Northridge blue nor Portsmith’s blue-gray, but somewhere in the middle. You’d worn it to a number of balls, including the one you first met Grandmother and Grandfather at. The painter must have attended a number of those galas because their skill in capturing your appearance is evident. You’d seen portraits painted that resembled the subjects very little and it was most common among those painted without formal sittings.

Your mother is saying something about the painter and his methods, as if hearing your thoughts, but you’re not really listening to her, you’re too busy studying the portrait.

The you in the painting is more flattering than the one you see most often in the mirror, today perhaps as an exception, but you can recognize yourself with ease. You are more clearly the age that you are now, a grown adult rather than a sickly child in the former painting. This you has thicker hair, less of your bones are prominent. You look less on edge and of course, your frame is fuller. Mother must have instructed the painter to give you a solidity you still don’t believe you have, always pushing for what she wants you to be rather than what you are. But it’s not egregious, even if there is more conviction in the set of this you’s jaw than you’ve ever truly felt. Again, except perhaps this morning when you sought out Dale to confront him. Overall, you find the expression pleasant, even if you think there’s something a bit off with your nose.

It’s the other details in the portrait that hold your attention. There’s a banner with the Northridge coat of arms behind you, but a book with Portsmith’s coat on the cover in our hands. The spine of the book is for a medicinal textbook, and the tea on the high table you're positioned next to even seems to steam. The vase is full of plants you recognize from your tea blends—and each of the flowers from your siblings’ namesakes are present as well.

“It’s lovely,” you say, glad your voice is soft enough that it doesn’t betray that you abruptly feel close to tears.

“You’re welcome,” your father says, with a comforting squeeze to your shoulder.

Soon, Grandmother quiets you all down for the final reveal. “Lastly, allow me to present the Lord and Lady of Northridge.”

Dale’s outfit, his black suit and red waistcoat is so obviously one the original Dale wore, although to be honest, this Dale is drawn to bold colors too. You’re in your white and blue with black accents Northridge dress. The two of you are posed in front of the large windows in the south hall, the ones that lead to the gardens. The clothes and the pose are of the past, but the expressions are clearly from recent sittings. So is the way you’re turned toward each other, not dramatically, but more than before. You look together instead of just standing next to each other. Even Dale’s greater presence and more forward position has been rendered far more protective than attention-seeking.

The signet rings of Northridge glitter on your fingers in the painting, even though you’d not put them on until a few minutes ago. You look married in that portrait and it helps solidify in your mind that you are.

Dale reaches over to clasp your hand in his and you smile up at him, proud to be here, in this moment, with him.

-/-

In the end, the wedding luncheon is remarkably similar to the other galas and balls that you’ve been hosting for the past few weeks, baring the high sun. You make it through being announced without tripping. You make small talk with everyone who wants to—which is everyone. You manage a few additional moments with your family. You’re grateful your dancing is with limited partners as it’s considered ill luck for the newly weds to dance with any other than each other or their immediate families.

Unusually it drags as time passes, until it is time to leave at which point you feel as if only a few moments have passed since you entered. As the married couple, you do not have to stay hosting until late in the night this time. You’ve never felt as if you were sneaking away, as if you were getting away with shirking your duties, while such a large group sees you off. It’s very peculiar.

The other servants and your packed belongings likely left over an hour ago. Only your personal servants are leaving at the same time. You find yourself outside, bidding goodbye to your family, as you stand in front of your carriage with a suddenness that almost makes you dizzy.

Then Dale is holding out a hand for you, which you take, allowing him to help you into the carriage. You carefully adjust your skirts before and after you sit down on the comfortable plush bench. A carriage for two, only a few trunks sit opposite you giving more ample room for legs and skirts. You make space on your left for Dale and he soon joins you, folding himself into a seating position as soon as he can so as not to bump his head on the ceiling.

“Are you settled, my spouse?” he asks as the door shuts. He pulls up the window nearly as quickly so as to ensure the air does not get stifling.

You wonder if you’ll ever get tired of hearing him call you that. Somehow you don’t think you will. “Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Lovely,” he replies, giving a quick smile which flashes the whites of his sharp teeth. He leans forward to wave cheerily at Grandmother before he knocks on the front wood separating yourselves from the driver and footman.

It only takes a minute for the driver to set the horses off and you pull away from Northridge estate to the sound of falling grain thrown by guests before they return to enjoying the festivities without you.

You do your best to wave goodbye to your family, but looking out the window for too long begins to upset your stomach. They’re out of sight before long as it is.

You settle back down in your seat and try to orient yourself, catching your breath in practice if not necessity.

“Water?” Dale offers, holding out a flask and wiping the back of his mouth with his free hand to indicate he’d just taken a sip himself.

You take the flask gratefully and drink some water to clear your mouth and throat. You pass it back to him with murmured thanks. The silence, the first in hours, fills the carriage.

Dale is the one who breaks it. He reaches for the basket on top and pulls out an apple. “I had them pack some foodstuff for us, given you tend not to eat much at these events—”

“And you are nearly always hungry,” you finish, accepting a grape. A mix of embarrassed and flattered that he knows you so well.

“Quite,” Dale says with a crooked smile.

You get caught in his gaze, like you haven’t since the very beginning. Perhaps instead of you becoming accustomed to it yourself, Dale had merely gotten better at controlling the way his presence could reel you in. Perhaps he isn’t trying so hard now that he knows that you know. Now that you’re finally alone.

“So I suppose we should—” Dale is cut off by a loud bark of laughter from the front of the carriage. Whoever made the sound, driver or footman, is quick to shut their mouth, but the reminder is well served. Dale smiles apologetically. “We should talk once we arrive at the lodge of any matters of import, perhaps not now.”

“No, you’re correct,” you sigh, feeling the day’s events weighing strongly on you. You adjust your seat, grateful you had insisted on Grandmother storing your veil for you here and not taking it on your travels. Your neck bends at an awkward angle when you try to rest it against the inner frame. A bump in the road, still being worked on, causes you to sit straighter and give up on the idea of leaning against the carriage side.

“We can speak of other matters,” you say, though you’d actually like little more than to stop talking and nap. The day had begun so much earlier than usual, in order for you to be ready before the mid-morning ceremony, and had been so busy that you’re exhausted.

“Of course,” Dale says. “We’ll have an entire week at the lodge, before we go on to Riverton. It’s been many years since, em, I’ve been there, but it’s an industrious city, with a river that has hopefully enough water for you to feel at home…”

You listen as Dale elaborates on some specific memories he has of the city, more than the names of officials, and where you would visit as discussed with Grandmother and Grandfather. He isn’t explicit, in case either servant up front can hear, but you can read between the lines far more easily now that he isn’t pretending these are his own memories. He’s careful to keep his voice lower to minimize the others' hearing, but loud enough for you to pick out above the clatter of the carriage on the road.

The overall effect is soothing and comfortable. It’s easy to close your eyes, to sway a little in your seat. Dale’s hand ends up in your lap at some point, and your hands cover it without remembering having done so. The day hadn’t been overwhelmingly hot, but it's warm and you’re so tired. Not just from today, but from the whole past month. From before that when you were anxious to meet the original Dale and dealing with him once you had. From the weeks and months spent searching for a spouse. It all seems to be catching up with you at once.

You drift off with the motion of the carriage, and the sound of Dale’s voice in your ear, his strength and presence comfortingly close by.

[Part Thirty-Three]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #story part #nothing's wrong with dale #terato #exophilia #monster romance #osha compliance #arrange marriage #slow burn #monster bf #reader #finally done with this chapter #idk where yesterday and the day before went #glad today is a late start #need to practice my presentation now #hope you like it!

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the-really-lonely-mountain · 11 months ago

Text

Along for The Ride - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. With this first installment, we are following the first movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling in love with Kili on the way! Slow burn with this one y'all, nothing spicy till the next work I'm afraid.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), wrote this while I had covid, in like 4 days lol, implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien)

Word Count: 6,292

A/N: I was utterly appalled by the lack of Kili writers on here and Ao3. Y'all who write for Kili, I've been eating your crumbs like it's the shit (cause it is) for weeks, but one can't be sustained on crumbs alone so I've prepared a feast!! This is the first fic I've ever wanted to post, please be gentle. Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are loved and treasured!!

Tagging the amazing Kili writers I've been living off of for the past few weeks and who have inspired me so they might share in the feast as well lol go check out their stuff too: @mikathemonster, @cowboybeepboop, @littleenglishfangirl, @ethereal-inquisitor, @sweetpeakili

Photo credit: @immawriteyouthings

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

You were having one of those days that made you want to run away from everything. Instead, you walked on the golf course behind your house after hours; no phone, no umbrella, no bag this time, just you. You had what you could fit from your hands in your jean pockets as you walked the grassy field. Something twinkled and caught your eye on the far side of the fairway, there was a sparkle in the ferns. You walked over and began looking through the underbrush. Your hand grazed a smooth stick with a mangled end that encased a gem. You picked it up hoping for a better look but were transported to another world instead!

You appeared in the new world holding the staff. You were standing beside an older fellow with a pointy hat and long grey beard. You looked around and saw many other gruff, burly-looking men sitting in an encampment. They looked as confused as you. You did the only thing you could think of doing at that moment.

You turned around and took off running as fast as you could.

The wizard whose staff you were running away with asked the younger dwarves in his company to fetch you for him. They ran after you as quick as the wind. You dodged trees and hurdled bushes, making an all-around great effort. You were slowing down though. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and plan. A twig snapped in the distance; quick footsteps closed in on you. You took off again. You needed a place to hide, a moment to think for God's sake. You were afforded no such luxuries. They were gaining, you were tiring. In your drained haste, you tripped on a bush which sent you stumbling and struggling to regain your footing given your momentum. You finally fell and scampered to take cover behind the roots of a great tree. Their footfalls grew slower and drew nearer. They were so close you could hear their words now.

“…She’s hiding, Fili,” one said much closer than you expected them to be.

You tried your best to steady your breathing. Your heartbeat was so loud you knew they could hear it.

“Stop scaring her Kili,” The other chastised. “You know she’s got to be scared half to death”. He walked past you, studying the ground. The other came up the other side of the tree doing the same.

You gripped the staff preparing yourself to be found. They turned in unison following the same tracks and looked up at you simultaneously. They were both panting but not as hard as you. Fili, the elder and more experienced of the two knelt where he stood a few yards from your curled trembling form.

“My name is Fili” He put his hand on his chest and motioned to the man next to him, “This is my brother Kili. We mean no harm to you.” He kept his distance and showed his empty hands. You stayed firmly pressed against the tree trunk, your chest heaving rapidly and your eyes as large as saucers. They could have tackled you, beaten you, or done any number of terrible violating things, but they kept their distance and spoke softly.

“What’s your name?” Kili asked, with a charming smile as he crouched beside his brother.

“Y/N,” you said in a shaky freaked-out tone.

“Y/N, that’s our friend wizard’s staff,” Fili said, “If anyone can figure out how you got here, he can.”

“But you gotta come back to camp with us,” Kili said reaching out his hand as a peace offering. So many horrible things could happen to you in the wild of this new world, but even more on top of that could if you didn’t go with them.

“How can I trust you?” You asked them. They looked at each other.

“How can we trust you?” Kili threw back at you with a suspicious look and recoiled his hand.

“Touche” you nodded returning his look.

“Seems we are at an impasse then,” Fili huffed at his brother, “You want to get home, and our wizard can do that. The only way that can happen is if you come with us back to our camp. We can only offer you our word and promise on our honor as dwarven princes that you will not be harmed by any in our company.”

You thought for a moment and nibbled at your lip, “You promise?” you looked up at Kili this time.

Kili looked you deep in the eyes, and very seriously said: “No harm will ever come to you, on my honor as a prince.”

You nodded at this, “Very well”, and tried to stand up but were stuck against the tree. The 2 men easily lifted you back to your feet. You followed them back to the camp.

You tried your best to hide behind Kili as you approached the wizard smoking a pipe. You peeked from around his shoulder at the other men in the camp. They were looking at you.

“Please sit, my dear,” The wizard said to you, motioning to the rest of the long log beside him “We have much to discuss.”

Your legs wouldn’t move you from behind the dwarf. You were still quite afraid.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you Kili,” the wizard said to him. The rest of the company let out a soft chuckle of agreement. You couldn’t see it from your angle, but Kili smiled and nodded.

“Sit down child, we aren’t going to hurt you,” One of the dwarves sitting across the fire said. You took a deep breath to gather your courage. One false move by any of the others would have you bolting again.

You moved from behind Kili and sat beside the wizard still clutching the staff.

“May I take that from you?” the wizard politely asked. You handed it to him. He explained how this type of thing had happened to a couple of his wizard friends before, but he didn’t know the remedy or spell to undo it or how to prevent it from happening again. You sat quietly listening and nodding. He explained to you and the rest of the company that he was leaving to travel to his friend and inquire about your predicament. In the meantime, he convinced the company and its leader, Thorin you came to know, to keep you in the company as an innocent bystander to help around the camp and whatnot till Gandalf (the wizard) could figure out what to do with you. Gandalf gave you a small sack of coins, instructing you to get a bag, a bedroll, clothes, and any other necessities you’ll need at the next town.

As the fire died down so did the company. They got out their bedrolls and sleeping gear like a synchronized unit and as quickly as they started, they were all asleep snoring softly. Kili had first watch and was sitting on the ground next to you leaning against the log you were on. You slid onto the ground next to him curled with your knees to your chest. He looked over at you. You looked over at him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you said not hiding the waver in your voice very well, “I’m so scared.” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You cried into your hands as quietly as possible, so you didn’t disturb and anger the others. If you had looked at Kili, you would have seen him in a slight panic and at a loss for what to do, he didn’t know how to console crying women. You sobbed into your hands knowing you just needed to let it all out then you’d be fine. Kili looked at the fire and put his hand on your back. Physical contact of any kind back home was next to nonexistent, it felt nice to know he was trying his best to comfort you. After a few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups wracking through you, you began calming down. When you were able to breathe properly, you wiped your face even though tears kept falling. You sniffled and rested your chin on your knees letting the tears fall silently now.

“Do you feel better?” Kili guessed in a soft tone and rubbed his hand on your back.

You nodded at him, “Yes” You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes as best you could, “Thank you” You looked at him and smiled a little. He smiled and nodded too, still concerned but returned his hand to his lap. You sniffled and looked at the fire.

“Really though I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said. “I’ve never been camping before,” you paused to think. “I don’t know how to fight or use a sword or make a fire or hunt or-or—” You were working yourself up and starting to cry again. Kili cut you off before you could start sobbing hysterically again.

“WOAH! Woah!!” alarmed, he put his hand on your back again, “It’s ok. Calm down.” he said harshly, “Take a deep breath, that seemed to help last time,” He mumbled the last part under his breath. That made you smile despite yourself.

“You don’t know how to console someone, do you?” You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes. He shook his head and took his hand from you. “Seems we’re both out of our depth then,” you said making the mood a bit lighter.

“In my defense, I was raised in a pack of manly men,” He smiled fondly “It’s a wonder my mother got through to me at all.”

“So, you do have a mother,” you said, making him look at you quizzically “I assumed you were raised by wolves,” You shrugged. He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re not completely wrong about that,” He smiled, looking over at the men across the fire. There was a momentary silence. “We’ll teach you those things, how to fight, how to make a fire, all that,” He looked over at you, “I mean who knows how long Gandalf will be, and you’d have to be pretty stupid not to pick up a thing or two even from this bunch.” You smiled and nodded; this calmed your nerves a little. A moment of silence fell between you again.

“Is it ok if I stay up with you?” you innocently asked, “I’m not very tired.”

“Sure,” he said casually, “May I ask about your life back in your world?”

“OK,” You nodded.

“What do you do?” he asked, you gave him a weird look. “Like for a living, how do you make money, how do you spend your days?”

“I’m a student at university at the moment.” He looked at you confused this time. “I spend my days studying at a desk, it’s boring and dull” You quickly summed up.

“Ooohh,” He said, “No wonder you couldn’t run for shit,” He laughed.

You scoffed, “So rude,” You huffed, failing to hide your smile. He was glad you were cheering up a bit.

“If it’s so boring and dull, why don’t you do something else?” He asked, naive to your world and its ways.

“It’s…complicated” you sighed “I have to study to do what I want to do for work even though I don’t want to work or study or do any of that, but I have to make money somehow because I need money to do stuff and buy things because the world I live in is shitty that way and it’s so frustrating sometimes,” you gritted your teeth to make your point.

“Well, what do you want to do then?” he asked, trying to understand your strange world.

“Sit on the beach,” You said without hesitation “…Listen to the waves…sleep on a blanket in the sun,” you sighed wistfully. “Die happy and rich.”

“That does sound nice” He agreed “I’ve never seen a tropical ocean before, the seas near the Blue Mountains are all frozen over.”

“Surely there’s a beach somewhere in this world,” You refused to believe the universe sent you to a world without a beach.

“There is! I’ve heard stories of Southern Gondor, where the sun makes the sand hotter than forges, and the water falls over the horizon in every direction.”

“That sounds like the beaches from back home,” You felt a little bad for him. You’d been practically raised at the beach because it was the only free thing to do in your hometown.

“May I ask a question?” you asked this time.

“Of course,” He shifted to lean against the log and face you.

“What are you guys doing?” you gestured to the camp around you.

“We are on a quest!” He said proudly, “A quest to take back our ancestral home from the dread dragon Smaug,” he said in a sinister voice. He explained about Erebor and the dragon and Thorin to catch you up. You listened, nodded, and took it all in, asking questions and giggling at his jokes. He was a decent storyteller.

“And I’m just along for the ride I guess,” you said deflated about your role in all this.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re quite good company,” He indulged; Kili always got so lonely on watch.

“Yay!” you said over a yawn, “I’d hate to bore any of you,” you replied, genuinely fearing your stories may never measure up to theirs. You leaned over and laid on the soft grass, curled in a ball with your arm as a pillow. You tried not to shiver from the cool evening breeze. You heard some shuffling of fabric, and then a blanket fluttered on top of you. You looked at Kili who smiled and said: “I’m quite the furnace at night, I’ll be fine without it,” he reassured.

“Thank you,” you said over another yawn. You didn’t expect to fall asleep but the next thing you knew it was early morning and you were awoken by the clanging of pots and spoons. You sat up and looked around to get your bearings.

‘Still in the same strange world’ you thought not fully awake. Kili appeared, greeted you good morning, and handed you a bowl of white goo he called porridge. You thanked him and ate your breakfast in silence like the rest of the company. While the men packed up the camp you were tasked with washing the dishes in a nearby stream. You were struck by the beauty of the incredible woods around you even in the dim morning light. You returned to camp and put the dishes in their bag, which was taken by one of your new companions. You felt out of place without a task among everyone who knew what to do. Balin saw you standing in the middle of the camp looking lost. He asked Thorin what they were to do about their lack of an extra pony for you. They decided you could ride with Kili seeing as he was the lightest (next to Bilbo) and his pony could take the weight and because you seemed the most comfortable with him. The old dwarf with a white-grey beard curled up at the ends approached you with as much of a nonthreatening air as he could muster.

“Good morning, my dear!” He greeted you with a chipper smile. “My name is Balin”

“Good morning,” you replied. “I don't quite know what I’m to be doing,” you said sheepishly.

“That’s ok lass, it’ll come with time,” he reassured, “For now, you’ll ride with Kili so you can see if he needs help getting ready.”

“Ok,” You nodded and started walking in Kili’s direction. You stopped in front of his pony and petted its nose and down its neck. “I’ve been told that I’m to ride with you,” you said timidly looking at him adjust his saddle. Kili looked at you and nodded.

“I’ll be happy to have a lovely conversation again” He smiled and looked back at his saddle, making the final arrangements.

He turned to you and said, “I’ll give you a leg up,” And jabbed a thumb at his pony. You nodded and approached the animal. You put your hands on the ponies back and bent your leg waiting for him to help. He leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear: “Wrong leg”. You blushed quite profusely at that and switched legs. He heaved you with such strength he nearly threw you over the other side of the pony. You made yourself comfortable behind the saddle before he hooked his foot in the stirrup and carefully mounted so he didn’t knock you off.

“You ok?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yep!” you smiled. He nodded. You were excited to see new lands even though you feared what they harbored.

“If you need to hold on to me when we get going you can,” he said, making you both blush despite yourselves.

A few moments later Thorin called out: “Company ready?” in a deep booming voice, “Aye!” They all replied in unison. “Company, move out!” He bellowed and urged his pony forward. The rest followed behind him one by one. When your animal lurched forward you grabbed Kili's waist for dear life. The company was silent till they got to the end of the forest. You had your cheek pressed against Kili’s shoulder and your chest against his back. The fur of his coat was very soft against your face as you turned your head to look over his other shoulder. You yawned but didn’t realize you did it right next to his ear and breathed down his neck. He determinedly kept his eyes on the pony ahead of him to keep the blush rising in his chest at bay.

“You can take a nap if you need to,” he said over his shoulder in a soft voice for only you to hear.

“That sounds like a good idea,” You yawned again. You buried your face in the soft spare fabric of the hood on his back and cuddled closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and sleep swiftly took you. He knew this because he could feel your breathing slow on the back of his neck. He was happy you could sleep and couldn’t help his smile. You shifted now and then, turning your head one way then a while later turning it the other. Kili tried not to talk or move too much in fear of waking your delicate slumber. By midday, you felt very well rested. You took a deep breath and released your grasp on Kili to stretch your arms above your head, arching your back to wake yourself up. You quickly slipped your arms around him again, so you didn’t fall.

“Good morning!” He chirped, “Well afternoon really,” he corrected with a smile, “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” You hummed against his shoulder “I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” you said thinking back on the restless weeks before your arrival in Middle Earth.

“Good,” He nodded. “Happy I could be of service.”

“Yes, you make quite the comfortable bed,” you replied.

An easy silence settled between you for a while. You contentedly watched the landscape pass by while he kept the pony on the path.

“What’s a good weapon for a beginner?” You asked knowing you needed to start wrapping your head around the fact that you could be stuck here forever and needed to protect yourself. He thought about that for a few moments.

“I’d have to say a bow,” He shrugged, “I don’t know honestly, lemme ask Fili,” he kicked up his pony to walk faster to be next to his brother. “What is the best weapon for a beginner?” He asked him. Fili glanced at you and thought for a moment.

“Hmm I think a sword would be easiest,” He replied, contradicting his brother.

“A sword?!” Kili said incredulously “No that’s one of the harder ones,” He swatted his hand as if to swipe the words from the air.

Fili scoffed “For you maybe,” he said barely keeping his teasing smile under control “But not to the rest of us, my weapon-challenged brother.” That made you giggle. Kili huffed and pulled his horse back, so he wasn’t beside his brother anymore.

“Are you that bad with a sword?” you asked, trying not to laugh too much.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m just better with a bow and arrows,” he pouted.

‘Awe he’s so cute when he pouts’ Your thought took you by surprise.

“Perhaps you can teach me, Archer,” Your voice was lower than you intended, making you both blush. Your breath ghosted over his ear making him shiver just a little. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, his face so close to yours. He looked at your lips then deep into your eyes holding eye contact.

“Maybe I will,” he said in a deep gruff whisper that made you gasp and goosebumps rush over your skin. He turned back and smiled; proud he could get a rise out of you. You huffed and distanced yourself from him by leaning back, needing the space to calm down.

As night drew closer, Thorin led the company to the edge of a forest and found a shallow cave, more like a cliff overhang to make camp for the night. He told Fili and Kili to take care of the ponies and Oin and Gloin to make the fire. After the meals had been handed out Thorin told you to take Fili and Kili a bowl. You walked through the forest and found them looking at a downed tree in panicked awe.

“Something took 4 of the ponies,” Fili said to you, hoping you’d have the answer to their predicament.

“Yes, and…” you nodded at them trying not to panic yourself “What are you going to do about it since it’s your problem?”

The brothers decided to see what took the ponies and if they could handle it themselves, no need to worry Thorin, right? You followed them as they tracked the pony-nappers. Kili hid behind a tree and peeked around, you hid behind him and peeked over his shoulder. 3 large trolls were something to worry about, and a sight that made that dreadful feeling drop from your chest into your stomach. Your grip on Kili’s coat tightened.

He turned to you and said in barely a whisper, “Go back to camp and tell Thorin”.

Fili was immediately against it, huffing and puffing from behind his tree. Kili shrugged and motioned with hands as if to say, ‘What else would you have us do?!’ Fili huffed again and snuck around the tree. He tried to cut the rope fence with his sword, but he took too long. The trolls caught him. They were deciding ways to eat him when Kili looked at you in alarm and told you to go back to camp. You ran as fast as you could.

“Ponies! Big grey troll things took the ponies!” You said out of breath pointing the way you just came “Fili…in…danger”. Thorin cursed in dwarfish and rallied the company. Balin told you to keep your distance, so you didn’t get caught in the fight.

The dwarves fought bravely but were captured. Bilbo bid for more time while you thought of a plan. You heard the trolls complain about daylight coming and that gave you an idea. You saw the trolls had made camp in the shade cast by a large boulder. You wedged a branch under the rock and used the leverage to try to roll it. It was very heavy, and you were not. It took everything in your power to push the branch to roll the boulder down the ditch edge it rested on. The trolls were washed in sunlight, turning them to stone and freeing the company. They cheered when you stepped over the branch and into the clearing. You helped them from their confines and smiled and blushed when they praised your good job.

Back at camp the company gathered their things and discussed what to do now. Fili suddenly hushed the company.

“Warg howls in the distance,” He whispered to Thorin “They are coming!”

“RUN!” Thorin yelled at the company. Following Thorin everyone started running. You all ran as fast as you could onto a hilly plane sprinkled with trees and boulders. You ran and ran till the Wargs finally caught up. They began to encircle you. The company fought the beasts, taking them down as still more came at them. You went to hide behind the rock formation but fell into it instead. You climbed out as the Wargs were closing in.

“Down here!” you called “There’s a passage this way!” you slid down to make room for the others. Thorin was the last one, as he slid down a horn was blown near the entrance to the passage.

“I can’t see where it leads, do we follow?” One of the dwarves asked.

“Yes! We follow!” Thorin barged through the dwarves and led the company through the narrow pass. You all walked for a few minutes, but then Thorin rounded a corner and slowed as he realized where he’d unwittingly led the company. The rest kept walking around him, but Bilbo stopped and said in admiration: “Rivendell”. You stopped as well to take in the view before you. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A small town on the side of a mountain with water flowing from beneath some of the glittering structures.

As Thorin led the company over a bridge, you grabbed Kili’s arm to steady yourself as you looked around and took in the ornate statues and architecture of the front steps of a large building. A man much taller than you or the dwarves approached the group.

“We would like to speak to Lord Elrond,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. He was swallowing his pride for the betterment of the quest, that much was clear through his clenched fists and tense shoulders.

“Lord Elrond isn’t here,” The elf said regretfully.

“Then where is he?” Thorin’s patience was growing thin. A horn was sounded on the other side of the bridge you’d just crossed. Everyone turned to see a group of horses galloping towards them. The dwarves began shouting in dwarfish and closing ranks with their weapons ready for battle. You were pushed into the very center of the circle as tall horses and riders circled you. They stopped suddenly and the one on a black horse dismounted.

“My Lord Elrond,” The elf who first approached you said with a bow.

“Lindir” Elrond bowed his head at him then turned to the leader of your group, “Welcome Thorin son of Thrain,” He looked over the dwarf “You have your grandfather's bearings.”

“I’m afraid I know you only from the stories my grandfather told me,” Thorin was doing his best to be polite. (You were later informed that the stories were mostly about him being a ninny.)

“I’d like to offer you and your company a taste of our elfish hospitality,” Elrond said with a warm smile.

“Does that mean we’ll eat?!” Bombur called from the back. The company chuckled at him.

“Yes Bombur, that means we’ll eat” Dori replied. The company cheered at the prospect of a full belly and a warm hearth.

Not long after, you were sat next to Bilbo and Kili at a large table. The salad appetizers were very good despite the dwarves not liking green food very much. You giggled at their jokes about how bad the music was or how they wanted chips and meat. Thorin was sat at another table across from Elrond discussing something you couldn’t hear, but you could tell it pained Thorin to be in the other man's presence.

You turned to Kili beside you. “Thorin looks constipated,” you said in a low voice barely containing your laughter “He can’t even pretend to be enjoying this”. Kili looked over at his uncle and laughed with you.

When the meals were served there was boisterous laughter and general dwarfish shenanigans, the usual at any merry dwarfish gathering. Bilbo looked like he was having PTSD from when they were doing the same at his house at the beginning of the quest. At the end of the meal, Thorin and Balin disappeared with Elrond to discuss a map. You asked Kili if he would escort you to the markets with as much innocent girlish need as you could muster to solidify your security. He agreed and walked with you through the corridors and to the market. He helped you get a fair price on a bag, a blanket, and a bedroll. The next thing you needed was clothes to blend in.

“What do the women around here wear exactly?” You asked him. He shrugged.

“It depends, I guess” He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he followed you around the clothing stalls like a puppy.

“Gee, that’s a big help.” You teased.

After some more wandering you found a stall selling clothes that looked your size. You purchased a dark blue form-fitting tunic that stopped above your knees and had slits on the sides that went up to your hips. It paired very nicely with the brown pants and brown coat with dark blue highlights you bought as well. Kili helped barter with the merchants since you didn’t know the fair price of things here. In another section of the market, you bought spools of black, blue, and pink thread. You put your belongings in your new bag.

“Are we done?” Kili asked, sounding slightly annoyed. He was ready to go back to the others and be away from so many elves. You sighed and rolled your eyes playfully and nodded. He led you through the busy crowded markets by holding your hand. You were thankful he was in front of you so he couldn’t see your blush. You made it back to the group, who had set up camp in a courtyard garden at the end of a hallway. Just as you arrived two female and two male elves came down the hallway.

One of the males stepped forward, “The bathhouse is ready for you now” he said to the group.

“Bath?! We don’t need no stinkin’ bath!” Exclaimed a dwarf from behind the fire. The rest heartily agreed, not ready to drop their pants on elvish soil it seemed.

“I’d like a bath” you timidly said, not wanting to make a fuss but very much wanting to be clean.

“Very good mistress dwarf, if you’ll follow us,” one of the female elves said. You were tense as you followed the four elves down the corridor, not sure what you were doing.

“You best go with her lad,” Dori said to Kili, “You never know what an elf might try to pull.” He glared at the back of the elves as they walked away. Kili nodded and ran after you.

“Y/N!” He called making you and the elves stop.

“Oh, change your mind, Kili?” You asked with an innocent smile, happy to have his company.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled too.

You were led to a large door that opened into a covered hot spring that flowed over the balcony to create an assumably gorgeous waterfall. Columns lined the outer edge of the room which was split down the middle by a cloth partition. The male elves walked to one side of the divider with Kili in tow, while the females walked to the other. The elves asked that you wash under the heated shower of water off to the side before entering the hot springs. They left you to your own devices.

“I’ve never seen anything like this have you?” You asked Kili across the large room.

“No” He smiled at the wonder in your voice from seeing new things and making discoveries. He thought it was very cute.

You placed your bag and new clothes on the vanity in the corner. You undressed and stepped under the warm shower. You used the bar of soap you found to wash your hair and body. It was the best-smelling soap you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Hey, Kee?” You hollered.

“Yeah?” He yelled back.

“Do you plan on keeping your soap?”

“No…Why?”

“I’ll take it then. I’ll need extra anyway,” And you were so happy you did. That soap made your hair silky smooth and stronger than ever. You rinsed the suds away then stepped into the hot springs.

It felt luxurious. You couldn’t help but moan a little as the heat pulled every knot and tense muscle from you. Relaxed, you floated in the steamy water.

“You still there Kili?” you asked suddenly nervous he’d left you.

“Yeah, I’m here” He replied, “We shouldn’t take too much longer though, Thorin could be back any minute and who knows what kind of a mood he’ll be in.”

That made you enjoy the bath a little faster. Not long after you began drying off and getting dressed. You took the hairbrush and beads and other miscellaneous hair trinkets that were on the vanity. You looked in the mirror at your new outfit. It fit as you thought, though a little snugger in some places than others, hugging your curves to allow for movement yet still baggy for breathability and insulation. Overall, a nice ensemble.

“Ready Y/N?” Kili asked from across the partition.

“Yeah, you can come over, I’m just packing my things.” You replied, folding your old clothes, and putting them in your bag with the rest of your things.

“Here’s the soap” He handed it to you.

“Thanks!” You smiled at him; you simply wrote his flushed cheeks off to the hot water. When you stood, he was able to get a much better look at you in your new clothes.

“A perfect fit I see” He smiled, looking you up and down. He couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like wearing nothing but his tunic. A line of thought he blushed at and quickly willed away.

“Does it look alright? I don’t know how it’s supposed to fit” You fussed with the hems and the folds trying to make them lay better. He grabbed your hand to make you stop fidgeting.

“You look great,” he said with a genuine smile. You smiled and nodded your appreciation.

You walked back to camp, making moneyless bets on what mood Thorin would be in when he returned.

As you approached Fili saw you in your new outfit and said, “Well look at this…” Making the rest of the company look at you too, “Our wee lass looks like a bona fide middle earther now!” They cheered at your near-complete indoctrination.

“Now she just needs to learn how to fight like one.” Bofur quipped from beside the fire.

“Then I wouldn’t need any of you to protect me!” You put the back of your hand to your forehead feigning a damsel in distress, making the company laugh. You sat on the ground beside the long chair Kili was now examining his weapons in and leaned against it. You held out a stone fish figurine to him.

“As a thank you for helping me” you cleared your throat “…And for being my friend.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was smiling a little around his reed pipe. He took it from your open hands. You know it wasn’t much but it’s all you could offer.

“Maybe one day you can return it to the ocean,” you said, referring to your previous conversation.

“Maybe I will,” he smiled down at you with genuine fondness.

“Bombur!” Bofur called before throwing a sausage to his cousin. The table, which took skilled elfin craftsman months, even years to craft and carve out of solid wood, collapsed under the massive weight of Bombur. Everyone erupted in laughter, it was nice to be part of the group and share in the merriment.

Thorin stopped Balin on their way back to the camp, “We should leave her here,” He said, “She is a liability.”

Balin had a terrible sinking feeling in his round tummy when he thought of splitting you up.

“So what if she is, Thorin?” Balin said near pleading. “Have you ever seen your nephew that happy or open with a girl that quick before? I’ve never seen the lad so engaged in a conversation that didn’t have to do with weapons before last night. So what if she dies on our quest, at least we gave them a chance to happen, and if fate finds their pairing favorable it will all work out!” Balin was desperate to keep you and the young prince together if only to keep the sinking feeling at bay.

Thorin huffed, “Very well, but her blood is not on my hands,” He walked away and into the camp.

Thorin and Balin returned, and the tone became slightly more serious—slightly. The company settled and laid their bedrolls in the grassy parts of the garden. You laid yours out as well and prepped for sleep by removing your shoes and coat. The night was warm enough that your blanket would suffice. You looked up at the stars wondering if any of the constellations were the same as back home. You cuddled your coat to your chest relishing the feel of the soft fabric. The low conversation between Fili and Kili, while they sat on watch across the fire, lulled you to sleep.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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