#so there's a hobbit child with a pack pony

[icryyoumercy]

#im absolutely no expert#but I AM a Horse Girl™#So I'd say something like a Shire horse or Percheron#So heavy#maybe cross those two#because since its middle earth your knights probably aren't as heavy as the French cavalry was#So the Percheron would be a bit of an overkill for dual warhorse workhorse purposes#though it was and is used today for both heavy lifting and heavy pulling#you loose agility and it will eat the hair off your head bc Big#and sink into fields it's supposed to plow (though not very much since Big Hoofs)#and the shire is a pretty slim breed actually#which is because the breeding focus for centuries was height#which is another thing you should think about#what is the primary enemy it was bred to be used against#bc if its orcs aou definitely want to go big ass and heavy as shit#So more like a Percheron which can take A Lot before collapsing#but if its any of the horse ringing people (elves/humans etc)#you'd breed more towards shire#bc those will absolutely TOWER over those little fucking warm bloods you see in the Jackson movies#and the work is also to be considered#bc a Percheron will be able to pull trees around and fucking uproot smaller ones#plowing etc is no problem for both of them#but shire are faster#which is think is the main point: both of them are pretty good workhorses#but the shire is fast and agile and the Percheron is a tank#but if in your world specialised breeding hasn't been around all that long#or you can't really decide between them#I'd just go the middle way and make a not as thicc not as tall cold blood#as for ponys you usually don't see as much of them as workhorse#less bc they're small and more bc they're assholes that don't listen to you

now i am conflicted! i had figured for an actual standing army, i could get away with just going 'eh, it's a destrier, who knows' and then pair them with a militia rider whose horse mostly needs to be trustworthy and small, in order to be affordable when not doing actual war things

but the thought of having a lineup consisting of a shettie, a cob, and a percheron/shire cross is hilarious and i need to think about this a lot more :D

thank you!

once again facing the standard problem with writing tolkien fic

is there such a thing as a dual-purpose war and work horse, and if so, what would it be named in a world where there are none of the locations horse breeds are so often named after

if anyone knows things about horses, please advise?

[idle-thyme]

Hello!

May I ask for headcanons of a platonic kili x reader x fili, where hobbit!reader is part of Thorin’s Company – she knew the dwarves since she was a little kid therefore being best friends with Fili and Kili – and being a peace disturber alongside the brothers

I couldn’t find your masterlists, so if you already wrote a fanfic like that, feel free to dismiss this request! And sorry for the big text ^^

Thank you 💙🍪

Of course, thank you for the ask! No need to apologise about the text :) I sort of made this an origin story, so if you want me to write something slightly different then feel free to send another ask!

It was summer when you first met the company. They came through your town once, only passing through, and (being a feral child) you climbed into and hid in one of their packs. It took days before they realised you were there and days after that before you told them where you’d snuck off from. By that time they were well out of hobbit country and promised to return you on the round trip.

Naturally, the title of “peace disturber” came easily. Nearly nothing could stop you, and what could stop you still couldn’t stop your roguish companions Fili and Kili. They were loyal to a fault and whenever you got in trouble, no matter how deserved, they always cracked an ingenious plan to get you out.

Moons came and went and the company passed back through your town. They dropped you off at your door, bid you farewell and a safe life, and hugged you goodbye. You reunited with your other family, teary-eyed and snotty, and spent the evening recounting to them the adventure you’d been on.

But the more you talked about it the more hollow you felt. When you went to bed that night, back in your old room, you discovered that you couldn’t sleep without the light snoring of several dwarves around you. So you took some paper and ink and scrawled an apology note, a goodbye, and a promise to return. Then you went to chase the trail of the company.

They had made it into the forest by the time you caught up, puffing and panting where they were all sombre and quiet. Fili was the first to see you, and he ran back and wrapped you in his arms, shouting your name.

After you explained to them that there was no way they were leaving you, and after the cheering had died down, Fili asked, “Where’s kili?”

“He wanted to stay with you,” he said. “I don’t know where he was planning on hiding, but he said he wasn’t leaving unless you were.”

Kili was not here.

Kili was still in the village.

And now everyone was going to have to turn back to get him.

After that (the long, arduous process of finding a dwarf who most certainly does not want to be found), you and Fili and Kili stuck ever more firmly together. “Like flies to a pony’s tail,” Thorin sometimes groaned.

Your later pranks would include swapping the company’s hats around while they were sleeping (which led to some sleepy grumbles of theft), seeing who could walk the closest behind Thorin without him realising, and standing on each other’s shoulders underneath a long coat which you “won” off of a man at an inn.

Last but not least, your most widely-detested practical joke: the Bag of Worms, which requires no explanation.

[elles-writing]

Dragon Heart - IV.

Taglist: @guardianofrivendell @anjhope1 @legolasoftherings @kumqu4t @grunid @elvish-sky @artsywaterlily @alexloveskili

If you want to be added to tag list, send me a message or comment please.

Warnings/triggers: -

She looked over at Bilbo, who was stirring, and decided it would be a good idea to prepare him a cup of warm tea with some honey and milk. Y/N remembered Bilbo loved this as a child.

So, her next steps took her to the hobbit's kitchen.

Before she stepped inside, Y/N noticed one - perhaps from the older ones - dwarf, who prepared a steaming cup of tea already.

The dwarf didn't seemed to trust her - of course - but his eyes little softened, because she knew Gandalf and Bilbo.

"What tea is that?" Y/N asked instead, genuiely interested.

"Charmomile, for Master Baggins." Y/N hummed and the dwarf quickly left the little hobbit kitchen. You looked around, more concentrated this time. Then, you looked over the hall, pantry, and living room, where was Bilbo, Gandalf and some of the dwarves.

Baggins', now Bilbo's house, has never been un-practical. Maybe for Y/N by it's size, but other than that, there was everything one would need for life.

When Bilbo catched her eyes, Y/N could clearly see he was uncomfortable, upset and absolutely, absolutely done with the subject.

The dwarves.

But most importantly...

Gandalf.

You shrugged, and decided to leave him his burglar-not-burglar game. Bilbo would not be patient forever, but he was mannered and clever enough to know what to do. You were sure the hobbit would feel his Took side with desire for an adventure again.

And take his chance to escape Sackville-Baginses.

As you walked around, you noticed some of the pictures. They seemed to be new - or at least you didn't remembered them.

You walked closer, and stepped on something. You looked down, and noticed it was a dagger. You've never seen the design before, but assumed it must be one of the dwarves'. You picked it up and studied it, when you overheard a voice next to you.

"Careful with this, it's been just sharpened." You turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed dwarf, with braided moustache. He seemed to have the same twinkle in his eyes as Kili.

"I can handle sharp things," Y/N said and looked back at the knife.

"It's nice. Not too light, but not as heavy either." Y/N was thinking aloud. She completely forgot the dwarf next to her, as she studied the dagger.

"You know Master Baggins," He suddenly said. Y/N turned to him.

What the-did he just-

"I do," You nodded, and placed the dagger to his hand.

What the-no, he just didn't-

"You don't look like you are related," he continued.

"That's because we aren't." You ended the topic. Instead, it was your time to ask.

"Who are you?"

"Fili, at your service m'lady," he gently took your hand and kissed the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Y/N, at yours...Fili," You said.

"Oh, Y/N, can I-can I talk to you, for a second?" Bilbo came and you gladly walked aside with him, while Fili send you a wink.

"Bilbo, to answer some of your questions - no, I didn't knew-"

"I'm not talking about the, the dwarves," Bilbo looked over the room with frown on his face.

"Then what is it, my little friend?" You said quietly in attempt to brighten up the situation. Bilbo was almost adorable with frowned pouty face, hands folded on his chest, patting the floor with his foot...only if you could stand straight in his house. Your back thought the size of his house was not adorable at all.

"Well, um...did Gandalf told you to bring them along?" You looked at him with scrunched face, and rolled your eyes.

"I wouldn't be coming if I knew there were dwarves involved. So, if anything, I share your unpopular opinion." And ruffled his hair. He jumped up.

"I'm not a little hobbit anymore, you don't have to do this," Bilbo said through gritted teeth, and you grinned.

"Well, you still are kind of little," You teased him futher, until a dwarf with sharp blue eyes, long, dark hair, and the biggest grumpy and pouty face you've ever seen (not even Bilbo could do that, when he was angy little hobbit).

That dwarf shot you a glare, and also to Bilbo, who was taken aside by him and Gandalf, again.

You felt sorry for Bilbo.

When he was free, you overheard him muttering something about 'surely not going', 'not going anywhere', 'wizards', and so on. You decided to go to sleep, because all of the dwarves were asleep already, and you needed to be up early.

You woken up quickly. The first thing you've heard was the snoring. You scrunched your face, and quickly packed your things. Then, you walked out of Bag End, and decided to wait for them there.

The sunrise was nice time, especially to prepare your horse for the day.

"Shh," you cooed her quietly. It was beautiful mare, tall, and very, very clever.

"It will be okay. We will find dad, and we will go away, to live far away...everything is going to be just fine," You muttered.

"You ready?" Kili stood next to you with a grin on his face. You jumped up a little.

"I am." You said, and noticed Kili's expression as he looked at your horse. You let out a laugh.

"You've never seen a horse before?" Kili walked back a little.

"Not really," he said and you noticed his blushed cheeks.

"Kili!" You both looked over to Fili, standing between two ponies, who called him.

-

"Do you think Bilbo will come?" Kili asked you.

"That hobbit won't show up," Balin said. He was on his pony next to Kili, so he thought he talked to him.

"It's no surprise. Why would Master Baggins leave his home," Thorin (as was the grumpy dwarf named) said.

"I wouldn't understimate hobbits, and especially not Master Baggins," Gandalf said as he smoked his pipe.

"I am sure he is going to come," He said.

And that's when the bet started.

-

It wasn't even five minutes after you left Shire, when you overheard Bilbo's voice in the distance.

"Waaait!"

You looked over to Gandalf, who was hiding a laugh.

"You planned this?" You quietly asked and motioned to the hobbit, who was breathing heavily.

"Well, perhaps," he said, and you scoffed a little and shook your head, as the dwarves seated Bilbo on his pony.

-

The day was beautiful. It was actually quite warm, just warm so you could put down your cloak.

As the evening was approaching, and the sun was setting into palette of gold and velvet, and the sky was getting darker, Thorin decided it was time to set up camp. After a quick argument with Gandalf, the wizard left to seek company of himself. So, there was nothing easier, than to just finding the best place to place your bedroll.

You, Fili and Kili were on first watch. You laid down on your bedroll, and watched the stars. It was cloudless night, plus the crackling sound of fire, and smell of fresh night air was relaxing.

Bilbo was just coming back from his pony, when a sound in distance made him freeze.

"W-what was that?" He pointed to the distance, while looking at Kili.

"Orcs," he said in low, deep voice. You sat up. Bilbo had a part of Took in himself, but he was not that much of a Took.

"There is going to be plenty of those," Fili said, and, obviously, Kili continued.

"They come at night, no screams, just lots of blood," He looked at Bilbo, and the shadows in his face, along with his deep and low voice made it come out horribly scary. Him and Fili started chuckling, but you sighed.

"The way you two snore would make them run for hills, so I wouldn't be that worried," You said, and noticed Bilbo to relax by the corner of your eye.

Kili looked over at you. You pulled out book from your pack. He quickly recognized it, even in the darkness of the night. It was that book you flipped through back in Bag End.

You sat comfortably down, and looked over the illustrations on the pages, and softly touched them.

"What is the book you are reading about, lassie?" Balin asked. You didn't looked up.

"It's a book with tales and stories my...father wrote down," you answered.

"He used to read them to me," you shrugged.

"Would you read some of them-ow, what was that for?!" Kili whisper-yelled at his brother, who chuckled.

"You're a child, Kee," He muttered to himself, and Kili pouted. But Fili was curious as well, which Kili didn't needed to know.

"Well...this one," You flipped a few pages futher.

"This one is called Strange thief and the stars," Y/N comfortably sat and started reading.

"There was once a man. He wasn't very known by name, but by his eyes. His eyes, deep and dark, with sparkles, reminding of stars. Nobody has ever seen eyes like this before, and people were whispering he has stars themselves in his eyes," You slid the tips of your fingers over the drawing, remembering the precision your father has made into repairing them.

"Many women tried to grab his attention, but anytime they didn't sucsceeded, the sparks in their eyes were less visible, but in his as well. And that is why men has decided to call him 'the thief of stars', or a 'strange thief of stars'. He was wandering through the lands, until he found what, as he realized, was looking for,"

"What happened next?" Bilbo asked.

"That girl didn't want to talk to him. She was very kind and caring, but not naive. One day, however, she found a dragon. Big dragon, who seemed scary, but saved her from orcs. The beast's eyes reminded her of someone, yet she didn't knew of whom." You realized everyone was quiet, listening to you, as you spoken.

"The next day, she met the man. He runned into her, in a rush, in a fear - and asked her "Did you see the dragon too?". The young maiden nodded, and helped him to get to safety, as he was very nervous and scared. Since that day, they became closer and closer. One day, when a few years passed, her father - an old, wise and kind man - said, his daughter will marry someone, who gives her something very special. The young man came the next day in their house they lived in. He said," you flipped the page.

" 'I do not have much to offer - gold, silver, or gems - but I do have this," he took out a notebook out of his coat, and offered it. The girl's father took the notebook, and opened it. It was full of drawings of flowers, animals and people - but mainly of one special maiden, when she was laughing, collecting flowers, brushing her hair, cooking, reading...When she came there, and looked throught the book, her father looked at her, and she nodded. So, he looked deeply into the young man's eyes, and said 'She chose you.' "

You finished the story, and Kili giggled at how interested his brother was.

"Now who's the child here,"

[amxranthiine]

c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. ii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/Her 

 A/N: Welcome to part two! I’ve been working on this part for three days and it was getting a little long, so I saved Weathertop for chapter three. This chapter is 2.7k (or more) words. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Some swearing, alcohol consumption, Nazgûl, the usual. Summary: Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙  Present Time Y/n POV Ale dribbled down my chin as I gulped down what seemed to be my hundredth Pint. In truth, I lost count after my... sixth? Seventh? I needed to drink away my sorrows after the day I had. I received a letter from Gandalf the Grey when the sun was at it’s peak, babbling on about the One Ring, how it was in the hands of a Hobbit named Baggins, and how I needed to make my way to the Prancing Pony in Bree as soon as possible. And, of course, that I needed to keep a look out for the Hobbit in the Prancing Pony, and bring him to Rivendell. What a way to start the day, I had only awoken not an hour prior!

Gods, I needed a drink. After the initial shock of knowing that the One Ring had indeed been found, I, not so happily, packed my few possessions into a warn out bag and went on my merry way.  After leaving Rivendell almost seven decades ago, I had travelled all across Middle Earth, never staying in one place for too long. Though it’s been sixty-seven years since I left my entire life behind (in more than one way), I was still frightened- or was it ashamed? Ashamed. Yes, that was it. I was ashamed of how I left, why I left. Just leaving everything I’ve ever known because I was jealous and heartbroken. Over a guy! Only, he wasn’t just any guy. Yes, he is. I am and have been over him. Are you absolutely positive? No. Exactly.  Fine, I admit! But how could I get over someone I’ve known since I learned how to walk? Not so easily, it seems. Perhaps that was why I was sulking in the Prancing Pony, downing ale after ale, trying to ignore the pure dread of having to see him again. Maybe he won’t be there? Maybe his adventures led him elsewh- My “what if’s” and “maybe’s” were cut short by a large shadow looming over me. Peering up at the owner of said shadow with the mug raised to my lips, I nearly choke at the sight. There he is, the man who has haunted my dreams for sixty-seven years. And, oh Valar, he aged like the finest Mirkwood wine. Sobering up immediately, I quickly placing the mug on the table and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, I greet him with a quiet “Hello?” Though, it sounds more like a question.

He doesn’t greet me in return, much to my pleasure. He just gestures to the seat next to me. “May I?” I numbly nod, though my eyes don’t leave him. Once he is seated, I glance down at my hands and take a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Aragorn?” My tone takes him off guard, it’s cold, hostile. As if I was talking to a stranger, which, in a way, he was. His face holds nothing but shock, with traces of hurt within the grey depths of his eyes. “Business from Gandalf,” Aragorn mumbles as he waves down a waitress. I look at him again, but this time I notice everything that’s changed about him. His hood is up, covering his eyes for all but me. His face is more defined, and there is a trace of stubble along his sharp jaw. He’s buffer, too. His muscles are prominent even under his many layers of clothing. I would be a liar if I said he didn’t look good. However, he also looked... nostalgic. Memories upon memories rushed to the front of my brain as I relived what we used to be.  Oh, Mandos, I think I’m catching feelings. Again. “It’s been a while, Y/n.” I blink, looking away from him with a blush. You foolish woman, Y/n! He most definitely knows you were checking him out.  Clearing my throat, I simply say “Yeah,” and look around for the Hobbit I’m supposed to be watching for. I could his gaze burning into the side of my head, watching my intently.  “You left without saying goodbye,” he mentions with an edge to his tone. I sigh and close my eyes, I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever. Never would be good.  “Didn’t think you’d care.” I said, shrugging. Good going, Y/n. Is that really the only intelligent thing you could come up with in that tiny head of yours? In my peripheral vision I see him tense, and his eyes widen considerably. What did he expect me to say? That I was sorry for leaving all those years ago? That I was so desperately in love with him that the sight of him embracing Arwen Undómiel was too much to bear? No, my pride could never admit that, especially not now. “You didn’t think I would care? Y/n, are you ins-” Aragorn starts with what sounds like a hiss.  I hold my finger up to shush him as four Hobbits walk into the Inn, soaked to the bone. The leader, a tall-ish Hobbit with curly black hair, approaches the bar and I can practically feel the evil radiating off of him in waves. I knew he was the one I was looking out for, he was Baggins.  Aragorn gives me a ‘we will talk about this later’ look, yet still follows my gaze. His body language changes drastically when he spots the small men and I instantly know we were sent here for the same reason. “Gandalf sent us on the same quest, it seems.” I mumble as my eyes follow the Hobbit’s every move. Something was... off about them, ignoring the presence of the Ring. They seemed nervous, as though they were waiting for someone. Baggins, or Underhill, as he was called, looked exhausted. The true weight of the Ring was finally making itself known.  As the four sat down at a table in the middle of the room, my eyes wandered over Underhill’s companions. The blonde next to him was on the bigger side, he had unruly curls as all Hobbits do, and he seemed the to the more cautious one out of his companions. The two across from him carried a carefree and youthful energy, both with almost golden hair.  The blonde one looked around the room with distrust before his eyes landed on Aragorn and I. We were watching them carefully, Aragorn had his pipe in his mouth, and I held my mug snuggly within my fingers. I suppose our watchful gazes set off alarms in the small Hobbit’s head. He elbowed Underhill and whispered something to him, nodding his head towards the two of us. Underhill eyed us, I could see the suspicion and fear growing within him as he took in our appearances. Suddenly, he gestured to Butterbur as he passed by, and over the loudness of the Inn, I barely heard him ask, “The two in the corner, who are they?” Butterbur glanced at us warily before replying, “They’re two of them Rangers; dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What their right names are, I’ve never heard, but round here they’re known as Strider and Randir.” Underhill looked at us again, “Strider and Randir,” he seemed to whisper as he nervously played with something under the table. Time seemed to slow as the younger one of the golden haired Hobbits seemed to yell for all the world to hear, “Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!” Every pair of eyes flew to the young Hobbit, but he seemed oblivious for he kept speaking.  “He’s over there, Frodo Baggins!” He pointed to Underhill, “He’s my second cousin, once removed, on his mother’s side and my third cousin, twice removed on his father’s side... if you follow me.” I sighed deeply and watched as Frodo raced to the golden haired boy, gripping his arm and shouting, “Pippin!” “Steady on, Frodo!” Pippin says, then pushes Frodo away. Frodo stumbled back, losing his balance on one of the many pairs of feet crowded around him. He falls, the Ring flying out of his pocket as gravity takes control. Aragorn and I watch with steady eyes, we could not let anyone near the small, childlike creatures. You never know who may be a spy, waiting, like a jaguar, for the precise moment to pounce. A small hand reaches out to grab the evil jewel, but it just slips through his fingers a moment too late. I wince as Frodo hits the ground, a loud “oomph!” leaving his mouth at impact. Though, my eyes never leave the jewel that seems to be calling my name, tugging at my heartstrings, as it made it’s graceful down a child sized finger.  The owner of said finger was none other than Frodo, and the entire Inn gasped in horror as he vanished from sight. There is complete silence for a moment, and Aragorn and I jolt up, preparing ourselves for the chaos that is to come. And chaos it is. Excited, and slightly horrified, chatter explodes throughout the Prancing Pony. I look to each of the Hobbits once more. The blonde hobbit is as pale as a ghost, looking deathly ill with panic. Pippin, who seemed to realize his folly quickly, sobers up quickly. The unnamed one seems to be a mix of the two, a look of complete and utter bewilderment clear as day on his features. Aragorn and I spot Frodo as he reappears in a dark corner, shaking like a leaf and as pale as the wraiths that hunt him. Hidden in the shadows, we stride over to him, unseen by all in the Inn. The man reaches him first, however, and grabs Frodo by the cloak and drags him up the stairs to a dark room. “You draw far too much attention to yourself.. Mr. Underhill.” Aragorn hisses. I roll my eyes at his actions. “You could have been a little kinder to the poor boy, look at him! He looks like he’s seen Sauron himself.” I point out with a small grin, but it vanishes in a second with the look Frodo gives me. It was wide eyed, portraying the terrifying truth in my words. He had, indeed, seen Sauron himself. Aragorn ignores my statement and draws the attention back to himself as he looms over Frodo. “What do you want?” The quiver in the Hobbit’s voice is prominent when he asks this. Estel turns away for a moment to put out the bright and blazing candles. “A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry.” He replies.  “I carry nothing,” Frodo lies. I watch the situation with interest, though I say nothing. The terror of the Ring was clearly effecting him, and having Aragorn and I practically kidnap him was likely not helping. “Indeed?” The taller man hums. “I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift.” He states as he finally reveals his face and the mess that is his hair. I gape at him as I take in his aged features, this time I really inspect him. His grey eyes, his lips, his hair...  He was seemingly flawless. Stop it, you stupid girl! You have a task at hand! Shaking my head to clear those impeccably true thoughts, I barely hear Frodo whisper, “Who are you?” “Are you frightened?” This time, it was I who spoke, bringing the attention of both males to me. I say those words with a slight edge to my tone, and it could sound like mockery if we weren’t currently in a dire situation.  Frodo looks me dead in the eyes. “Yes,” he says honestly, I almost laugh. “Not nearly frightened enough,” I uttered lowly, and narrowed my eyes. “We know what hunts you.” Aragorn adds, making me grimace. The Nazgûl were nasty, terrible creatures who should have stayed dead and rotting in their tombs. A noise from the corridor bursts our eerie bubble, and the three of us jump towards the door.  In come three determined Hobbits carrying a chair, a candlestick and fists as weapons. I had to admit, their bravery was to be commended. The blonde one bellowed, “Let him go or I’ll have you, Longshanks!” I couldn’t help it, but I burst into laughter, giggles spewing from my mouth as I recounted what just happened. Maybe it was the ale, or maybe the fact that I haven’t spent more than thirty minutes in another persons presence in sixty-seven years, but that comment was the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time. Everyone in the room turned towards me with bewilderment and confusion written all over them, making me laugh even harder. I had tears rolling down my face and my cheeks and stomach hurt from my sudden chortling.  After a few moments, my hysterics died down a bit, demoting themselves to light chuckles every so often. “I- I’m sorry,” I babbled. “Please, go on,” I smiled and waved my hand in a dismissive manner. The five men looked utterly disturbed and puzzled, but it was Aragorn who finally said something, though it was quite dark and ominous. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won’t save you.” He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They are coming.” After that we quickly devised a plan, and quietly made our way to the Hobbits room and stuffed pillows under the sheets to make it look like little people sleeping. Then, we grabbed all of their packs and brought them to Aragorn’s room, and we waited for the inevitable.  It had to have been two hours of silence before a single word was said by any of us. The Hobbits had already gone to bed, snuggled side by side on the large mattress. Aragorn and I sat across from each other by the window, watching for any sign of the dark servants.  I was playing with my dagger, twirling it between my fingers and stabbing it into the wood of the window sill, lost in my many degrading thoughts.  “Why did you leave?” Aragorn finally asked. I looked up to see him watching me intently. I stilled, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he could have said, he asked that? Gracious me, we are supposed to be watching out for the Black Riders, not sharing sob stories!  Trying to think of a semi-intelligent, semi-vague answer, I finally came up with “My heart led me elsewhere.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth. Before he could respond, however, I spot four Nazgûl riding into Bree. “Aragorn,” I call out and point to them as they make their way inside. The air thickens as heavy footsteps come up the stairs. I hold my breath, as does Aragorn, even the Hobbits seemed to stop breathing. Please, Valar, let us go unnoticed. It seems fate was feeling generous, the Ringwraiths strut right into the trap. And they stab. Over and over again, right into the pillows we set up just for them. I wince when I realize that it have very well been the Hobbits in place of those pillows if we hadn’t done something. Suddenly a deadly screech fills the air, followed by three others. No doubt they discovered the trap, and were positively pissed. I listen intently as they fled the Inn, and as they mounted their black steeds and left Bree, I hear multiple identical screams in the distance. My shoulders drop and I instantly breathe a sigh of relief. It worked. Our plan worked.  “What are they?” Frodo’s quiet voice questions from behind me. I look back to see him wide awake and seated on the edge of the bed. “They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.” Aragorn answers grimly. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say any more, I add on to his statement. “They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the one...” I trailed off. Our two voices fill the air in unison as we conclude,  “They will never stop hunting you.” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAGLIST @entishramblings (please tell me using my ask box if you want to be tagged in future chapters)

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boys and sticks - Chapter 28

Fandom: Hobbit (College Au)

Characters: @linasofia x Thorin, @laurfilijames x Fíli, me x Ori

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: drunk people and insults

Previous parts

“Louder, I want to hear the words,” Tova encouraged as soon as I started and I rolled my eyes at her; she knew the song, it was one of my favourite shower-songs. It was also a soppy love-song about nights that tasted like gold and dumb shit like that.

“Finish it, don’t be a coward,” Tova called before I could swallow the part that said “It’s a little bit clearer now, I love you like the sun came out; it’s like I never had a doubt, I love you like the sun came out” because that was a dangerous thing to say in this context. This was not the moment to talk about “waking up slow” and about “love”, not with Ori’s eyes pinned on me like that.

“Bravissima, very well sung,” Balin nodded, apparently the kind of man who enjoyed an impromptu concert and was used to them.

“So, you don’t know how to ride?” Lo seemed surprised, knowing what she did about my childhood.

“I do, but I am far from a good rider,” I replied, because – of course – I had had lessons as a child, but I had ever been the bookish rather than outdoorsy type of kid, so my father had relented eventually. I knew how to ride other things though, but apparently, my skills at calming skittish ponies had not miraculously flourished in the long years of inactivity.

“That was very pretty,” Ori commented shyly, flushed as if he had just been forced to sing in front of everyone, but then again, he was also in the process of emptying another can of beer which might explain the heat pulsating in his cheeks.

“Why don’t you come meet the family one of these days?” Balin offered and we froze; to him, it might have been a very innocent invitation but 2 days ago, these people had been mere fantasies and it seemed a little early to be invited to family dinners.

“Don’t be shy about it, I’m sure the others would love to meet you,” Balin reassured us and started packing his things together, “Kíli still has homework to do, and I think you’d better return to campus before you’re entirely drunk.”

Kíli made a face at him; he was clearly unhappy to miss the shenanigans he apparently knew would follow and of which we were – at that point – blissfully unaware.

“I gotta go to work, I’ll take the car; you should not drive!” Dwalin nodded, snatching the keys from Thorin, and pressing a smacking kiss on his forehead, much to everyone’s surprise; Thorin just grinned foolishly up at his friend, not in the least put out by the rare but very touching display of honest affection.

“Lo, can you take the drunkards? I take Jia, who will probably not drop off the bike,” Tova asked and – despite looking less than convinced – Lo agreed, piling first the men and then the supplies into her sportscar.

“So…where to?” Lo asked as she joined us beside her car, glancing at the three men giggling like schoolgirls in the backseat.

“My room is a mess,” Thorin admitted through the window they had – working together as a team – rolled down.

I took a moment for me to realise that they really expected us to merely relocate. “You’re not fed up with us already, are you?” He asked, making puppy eyes at us. This was when two terrible findings dawned on me: 1) Thorin, captain of the Floorboll team, huge, sturdy, intimidating Thorin could look at you like a starving orphan and 2) it absolutely worked, as my heart cramped with pity.

“Ori’s room is too small,” I whispered, remembering that we could barely wedge the two of us in there.

“I know someone who has a big, clean room…” Thorin said, thinking – in his hazy state – that he was the pinnacle of intelligence as he wriggled his thick eyebrows at us suggestively.

“Can I just leave them in your room?” Lo grinned, but Tova immediately said: “Yes, let’s reconvene in our room, but youtake care of your golden stallion yourself,” which made the other girl laugh happily as she consented.

I did not necessarily like being on Tova’s motorbike, but I was pretty sure that none of the others would have managed to stay on the hell-machine. Cutting through the traffic, we made it to the parking lot before Lo, but we waited so she wouldn’t have to wrangle three semi-drunk dudes up the stairs.

“Tovaaaaa…” Thorin turned out to be a whiny, clingy drunk while Fíli was very enamoured with the idea of taking the bike – for which he had no license – for a spin. That was – naturally – a hard ‘NO’ for Tova who was presently trying to peel her boyfriend out of the tiny sportscar.

It felt like herding a bag full of fleas or a group of toddlers, as they squirmed and wriggled around rather than exit the car.

“Fí made me get more beer,” Lo admitted, pretending to be ashamed and not succeeding in the least. It struck me that she indulged him in very telling ways and that she looked positively giddy at the prospect of spending the rest of the afternoon in his company.

The man himself seemed too drunk or too obtuse to recognise that though, judging by the way he stared at her as if she would just vanish into thin air the very moment he took his eyes off her.

“If you want to bottle-feed swine, be my guest,” I groaned and yelped when a hand was firmly planted on my ass.

Jesus Christ in his cloth nappies, of all the people in the world, Ori had to turn out to be a handsy drunk.

After throwing myself at him, undressing constantly, practically begging him to overcome his scruples, I had to find out – to my utter despair and confusion – that all it took to get his hands all over me was…beer.

“You are stunning,” he murmured into my ear as he climbed out of the car, his hand still caressing my rear side affectionately, and I wish I could have said that it left me unaffected. It did not. My brain knew that he meant none of these things, but my body was getting ready for take-off within seconds.

“Okay, let’s get them somewhere nobody can see them,” Tova moaned after managing to get Thorin unfolded like a crumpled handkerchief fished from the bottom of a handbag.

“Good luck with shoving that one under your bed like a porn magazine,” I hooted, grabbing the case of beer and setting it down on my hip while Lo grabbed Fíli’s hand and locked the car.

“Jia, do you not love us?” Thorin puled pathetically and I rolled my eyes, but he did the eye-trick again and so, I gave him a gentle pat on the cheek and muttered: “I do not know you!”

“You do! I made you tea!” he exclaimed, looking like he was about to pounce on me and squeeze words of affection out of me.

“You did, at that,” I grinned, groaning when a group of other students came our way as we were about to leave the parking lot.

“We could go skinny-dipping? Or play truth or dare?” Fíli was still seeking a major adrenaline high apparently.

“We can play truth or dare, dearest,” Lo gave in easily enough, grinning at his flushed face and his tottering steps because they made him lean more heavily on her as he advanced cautiously.

Suddenly, he veered hard to the right and managed to push her against the low wall surrounding the car park; remembering her own dare, Lo sunk against his broad chest and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue, apparently avid to outdo Tova and her kiss that would not have been allowed in a church – much to the hooting glee of the passing students.

“That one: good, the other ones? Not so good! What are you planning? Opening an orphanage?”

Oh, I knew that voice and I was familiar with the acid dripping from it. Shoving dear Ori behind me, which inspired him – apparently – to run his hands up and down my back in the most indecently arousing fashion, I growled: “Shut up and go away!”

“Oi, that’s my boyfriend you’re slandering, you dick!” Tova cried out but Thranduil didn’t even react to her words.

“Dearest Jia, what would your father say to that? Didn’t you know they’re paupers? They’re here thanks to our fathers’ generosity…and hers,” he waved a dismissive hand at Lo – who was still engaged in sucking out Fíli’s soul through his gritted teeth – as if her behaviour made her unworthy of being referenced by her own name.

Anger flared hot in me; despite all the denial I usually soaked in, I liked the dudes, and I would never let anyone say a single word against Tova. Never. And Lo was my protégée. And Thorin thought we were friends…

“It must be so hard for you, huh?” I purred, “You and I, we have been born dirty…” I gave him a cold smile and he flinched.

“To see something so pure, so beautiful, so precious and know it’s not for you; you cannot touch it without soiling it, so you try, you attempt to tear it down to your level and you can’t. Does it hurt?”

Thranduil gave a fit of barking laughter, sputtering: “You are so naïve, Jia dear, you are crossing a line and you know it.”

Cupping my cheek in an uncomfortable show of intimacy, he purred: “You can wait for that virgin for another year or so, and then…well, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he just strolled on casually, laughing with his cronies and hooting about my stupidity.

“He doesn’t like us,” Thorin declared – with an adorable air of finality – and buried his face in Tova’s neck as if to seek comfort.

“Ah, he doesn’t know what’s good?” Tova replied, clearly unsure what to reply to such an obvious finding.

I tried to focus on his whining, but Ori’s hand was skimming down the back of my thigh and I wondered if I would be hypocrite if I told him to knock it off, because my thoughts were melting like snow in the sun and pooling – hot and bubbling – between my legs.

“What did Thranduil mean by orphanage?” I then asked as we made it – finally, after what felt like hours wading through quicksand – to the door of our room.

[omgkatsudonplease]

[ficlet, bagginshield] shock and delight, pt 1 (bridgerton au)

The banks of the Brandywine River are packed with strolling couples on the day of the promenade, their chaperones following shortly behind. Thorin and the Fundinson brothers arrive exactly on time, Thorin carrying a bottle of Old Winyards. According to the sommelier in the shop at Bucklebury, this particular bottle was their last vintage one.

Bilbo and his chaperone Mr Greyhame show up a couple minutes late, the Hobbit fretting and dabbing at his brows with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m so terribly sorry for my lateness,” he flusters, hopping on one foot to the other like a nervous rabbit as he peers up at Thorin with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my pocket-handkerchief and had to go back for it.”

Thorin is caught between the absolute adorableness of Bilbo’s contrite pout and the absolute absurdity of the reason for his tardiness. 

“You are forgiven,” he declares instead. Bilbo’s pout smooths into a heart-melting smile.

The two of them begin to head down the path alongside the river, their pace leisurely. Other promenaders pass them by, as well as several open carriages pulled by unprotesting ponies. Thorin finds his gaze oddly drawn to the way the spring sunlight seems to burnish Bilbo’s curls into gold. Probably where Lord Stormcrow got the Golden Hare moniker, he thinks, before forcibly looking away towards a young Hobbit family having a picnic by the river. 

It’s a picture-perfect image of marital bliss. Thorin supposes something like that is what Bilbo is looking for, which Thorin himself obviously could not provide. Though he has yet to hear of any pushback against what must be an odd coupling by both Dwarvish and Hobbit standards, he is sure opposition will make itself known eventually. A marriage of true minds often lacks the productivity factor of a standard marriage, something which would be keenly felt in the family of a gentleman as distinguished as Bilbo Baggins’s. 

He, on the other hand, has already named his sister-children as his heirs. So it didn’t matter whether or not he married at all, nor did it matter whether or not his One (wherever they may be) possessed the physical apparatus or mental inclination for childbearing. 

“I have a question,” says Bilbo after a moment, breaking through Thorin’s thoughts like sunlight through stormclouds. “How do you know Gandalf? He’s an old family friend of mine, and apparently my cousin Fortinbras was the one who suggested he watch over me this season, but I don’t know how he would know you.” He looks thoughtful, hazel eyes peering inquisitively into Thorin’s face. 

In spite of himself, Thorin feels exposed, almost vulnerable. 

“I suppose Gandalf does have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, though,” muses Bilbo after a moment, before laughing and shrugging it off. “So? How do you know Gandalf?”

“To use your phrasing, Mr Greyhame has a finger in Erebor’s pie,” replies Thorin simply, not wanting to discuss how, years upon years ago, the Wizard had found his father in the depths of the Greenwood lost in enchantments and his own memories. King Thráin had, as the story went, finally succumbed to his grief about the deaths of his father and son, and had gotten lost in the Greenwood on his way to Azanulbizar to mourn them. 

He half suspects that telling Bilbo all of that would just make the poor Hobbit run off screaming in the opposite direction. So instead he bites his tongue, folding his hands behind his back. 

“I see,” says Bilbo, fiddling nervously with one of his cuff-links. “I’ve never been to Erebor. I’ve barely even left the Shire as-is.”

Thorin arches an eyebrow, remembering the abundance of maps and walking-sticks in Bag End the first time he’d gone over for dinner. The smial, though grand in size and luxurious in room variety, didn’t have the same cold ostentation as the mansions of Dwarves or Men. It felt homey, well-loved. A testament to lives well-lived.

No wonder Bilbo was so picky about the search for his One. If Thorin were not king, he would have wanted his halls just as cosy and warm, and he would have wanted to share it with only those who would brighten its nooks and crannies. 

“You certainly give the appearance of being well-travelled,” he says neutrally, still thinking of the maps and walking-sticks.

“Within the Shire,” demurs Bilbo. “I have had to go to Annúminas on business, of course, and once I went to Fornost with my parents on holiday, but Hobbits as a rule try to stick within the four farthings of the Shire. After all, why go out to see the rest of the world when the world comes to us every year?” 

His last question is both rhetorical and bitter. Thorin’s heart aches a little just hearing it. 

“So it is a matter of respectability?” he wonders wryly. Bilbo raises an eyebrow, so Thorin explains. “There is not much stopping you from running out of your front door and into the Blue, after all.”

Bilbo chuckles ruefully. “No,” he agrees. “But every time the side of me that craves adventures begins to make plans, the other side of me protests mightily, saying I’ll miss my books and my armchair and having six regular meals a day.”

Thorin has, indeed, noticed that restaurants and tea shops in the Shire have a more constant cycle of meals than anywhere else in Middle-earth. He’s honestly not complaining. 

“Speaking of meals,” he says, nodding towards the basket that Mr Greyhame is carrying, “I brought Old Winyards. Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

Bilbo checks his pocket-watch. “It’s halfway between elevensies and luncheon,” he remarks. 

“Yes,” says Thorin. “Consider it ‘lunchensies’.”

Bilbo bursts out in laughter at that, a bright joyful sound that rings through Thorin like one of the golden bells of Dale. His own stomach flutters a bit, and it takes all of his self-control to simply gesture for Balin and Dwalin to come help them set up their picnic on the banks of the Brandywine River. 

~~

Lunchensies is a success. Bilbo immediately takes a liking to Balin the moment they all sit down on the blanket together, happily chatting with him about books and history in between bites of his sandwich. Thorin watches them, unable to stop the smile on his face as he watches the way his old friend brightens under the Hobbit’s genuine inquisitiveness. 

“Yes, the road between here and Erebor was not as arduous as it used to be,” Balin is saying. “There is, of course, the stray highway robbery within Orc territory, but rumour has it that after the Shadow was broken at the end of the last Age, the majority of the Enemy’s armies have fallen out of its thrall and prefer to keep to themselves within the Mountains.”

“Occupying the ancestral halls of Khazad-dûm,” growls Dwalin. Thorin, too, feels the cold resentment deep in his stomach, but he tempers it by watching Bilbo chew thoughtfully at his sandwich, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s.

“While Durin’s Bane continues to live, Khazad-dûm cannot be retaken,” he reminds Dwalin. 

“If it continues to live,” muses Balin, before hastily switching the topic. “On the other hand, we are fortunate not to have awoken anything similar within Erebor. Though we did almost lose it to the firedrake Smaug.”

Thorin remembers the flames, remembers the lives lost to the dragon. The tragedy had seemed insurmountable at the time, but now he supposes rebuilding a Kingdom within the ashes of dragonfire was not as bad as being forced to flee for a new home like what had happened to his ancestors in Khazad-dûm.

“Almost?” echoes Bilbo, his eyes wide. Dwalin hands him and Thorin both glasses of the Old Winyards. Mr Greyhame, too, is helping himself to a liberal portion of the wine. 

“The Lady Mika, wife of the Lord of Dale, requited her husband’s death upon the dragon by shooting him with a black arrow,” explains Thorin as he pops a strawberry into his mouth. The fruit’s juices spill over his fingers; he hastily licks it off before wiping his fingers with the handkerchief.

Bilbo’s cheeks are dusted light pink when Thorin looks up again, and Thorin can feel his own cheeks heating in response.

“Well,” flounders the Hobbit, “that must have been terrible to go through. We haven’t had anything quite like that in the Shire, save for long and fell winters and the odd plague outbreak. But enough talk of dark and grim things! What is your favourite part of Erebor?”

The question throws Thorin for a moment. “Everything,” he says, but Bilbo raises a doubtful eyebrow at that. “All of Erebor is connected,” explains Thorin. “From the mines to the forges to the crafting halls, every part serves the whole.”

“Cogs in a machine,” muses Bilbo. “But what about a location? If you’ve grown up there all your life, surely you must have a favourite place. Secret hideouts from childhood, all of that.”

Thorin considers the question again, and this time the answer comes almost as if he had always meant to say it: “My mother’s garden,” he replies. “She kept a well-tended terrace beside the Royal apartments. We still take care of it, of course, and in the spring the cherry and apple blossoms blanket the grass like petalled snow.”

Bilbo’s expression lights up. “That sounds incredible,” he says.

“In the summer, the entire terrace is flooded with fireflies. I remember thinking once as a child that they were stars come down to play with us.” 

Bilbo’s hands tighten against the stem of his wineglass. “I should very much like to see that,” he says quietly. Thorin smiles, before noticing the knowing glint in their companions’ eyes.

He glares at them until they subside. 

[luna-redamancy]

Hi lovie💙💙 if you still want some requests I'm in dire need of a bit of angst and you write it so well!! You can choose whichever character you fancy💙 How about the reader having like a necklace, a ring or bracelet from a dead relative who meant the world to them and the character accidentally breaks it or loses it? What would happen?

Hiya lovebug ❤️ I chose Kili for the character, and because of that it’s not as heart-wrenchingly angsty as some of my fics because I just can’t hurt my heat when it comes to him haha but here you go: 

“I don’t understand why we need Bilbo,” Kili huffed, taking a large gulp of his ale mug. Fili raised a brow in question as he continued to drink out of his respected mug. “What do you mean?” Fili finally asked, wiping his beard with the back of his hand. 

“We both know I’m just as quiet and sneaky.” Kili was glaring now, a pout on his lips as Bilbo conversed with Gandalf by the fire. 

Fili chuckled, shaking his head. “You mean to tell me you’re jealous that uncle didn’t ask you to be our burglar? Was a warrior and travel companion not enough?” 

“You don’t think I’m as skilled as Bilbo?” Kili looked betrayed as he stared at his brother with wide eyes. 

“A hobbit can go unseen,” Fili stated, taking another gulp. 

“I’ll prove to you I can go unseen too!” Kili felt more determined than ever to prove his skill in order to gain his brother’s admiration and respect on a new level. 

“How will you do that?” 

Kili paused, thinking for a minute before his eyes locked on the ring you always wore. He knew it wasn’t a marriage ring that he had seen some humans wear, but you never seemed to take it off. 

“I’ll steal (Y/n)’s ring.” He said with a smirk, confidence clear on his face.

Fili’s eyes widened, “You’ll never be able to do it.”

“I bet I can,”

And so the bargain was struck. If Kili could get your ring without you noticing, then Fili would take his dish duty for a week. 

It was relatively easy, helping you onto your pony, you didn’t even notice his hand lightly tug on your ring to let it come loose and fall into his hand as you pulled free from his grasp to hold onto the saddle and adjust yourself. 

“Thank you Kili,” You smiled down at him, ever unknowing about his robbery. Kili felt guilt begin to bubble in his chest, you were so trusting of him, so happy to let him help you. Forcing a smile, Kili nodded, “Anytime for my favorite lass,” He winked before moving to get on his own pony, patting the breast area of his vest to hint to Fili of the item’s location. 

“You really did it?” Fili was astonished, never in all his years could he imagine you wouldn’t notice your ring being taken off. “It was relatively easy, however, my lovely brother, I believe you owe me now.” 

“I’ll owe you when you give proof.”

“Proof? Alright then,” Kili reached into his vest’s inner pocket, pulling out your ring with a satisfied smirk. 

Fili groaned, tossing his head back as Kili put your ring away. Or so he thought. 

-

“Where is it?” The company heard you whispering to yourself as you frantically tore through your bedroll and your pack. 

“What’re you looking for, lass?” Bofur called out, worried about your frantic searching. “M-my ring… I swore I had it this morning,” Your voice was on the brink of tears as you kept looking for it, not noticing Kili’s look of guilt. 

“I’ll help you look, (Y/n),” Bilbo sat his stew down next to the fire to keep it warm while he looked with you, carefully unfolding your blankets to see if it possibly fell into them. 

Reaching into his vest, Kili was ready to pretend he found it when he discovered his pocket was empty. His face went pale as he began to pat down his vest. 

“Oh no…” He whispered, looking to Fili who’s eyes widened when he realized Kili had indeed lost your ring. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find it,” Bilbo said after helping you go through everything and eventually repack it. “Do you think you lost it on the ride up here?” Bilbo questioned, squinting to look how far you all had ridden today, frowning when he realized Thorin wouldn’t let them double back for a ring. 

“It’s just a ring lassie, when we get to Erebor you can pick out any of the millions in Thror’s hold,” Gloin tried to comfort you but it was pointless. 

“It’s not just any ring,” You spat at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “That ring was gifted to me from my grandmother, she died last winter…” You fought the crack that threatened your voice, your vision growing blurry with tears. You still hadn’t moved on like how your family expected you to.  “That ring holds more sentimental value than anything I have ever owned in my life,” You sighed in defeat, having to deal with the grief that now you had lost your grandmother again. Fate had taken her from you twice. 

Kili’s jaw dropped, he hadn’t even thought that your ring could hold so much value. The grip he had on his bowl tightened, he knew what he was going to do. 

“Fili… Could you take over my watch tonight?” Fili didn’t have to ask what his brother was going to do. Silently nodding, Fili sent a mental prayer for Mahal to watch over his brother as he snuck away from the company late at night. 

.

.

That morning you were silent, grief taking its toll on you as you grabbed breakfast with only a small thank you being the words you spoke all morning. 

“(Y/n), may I talk to you?” Kili was nervous, fiddling his fingers as he awaited your response. “Go ahead?” You questioned, not in the mood for any playful banter or mindless flirting so early.

“In private?” 

You paused, examining Kili more closely. “I guess…” You stood up and allowed him to lead you away from the company and into the treeline. 

“The first thing I want to say is how sorry I am,” Kili began, jaw clenching as he fought the urge to look away from your eyes like a child being scolded. “I didn’t know how much your ring meant to you,” Kili pulled out your ring, freshly polished. Your eyes widened in relief, but before you could say anything, he continued.

“I was trying to convince Fili that I was as good of a burglar as Bilbo and I told him I could prove I was by taking your ring, I-I.. I’m so sorry,” He held it out to you, waiting for you to yell at him. 

You were silent. 

Taking the ring out of his grasp, you put it back on your finger, a piece of you feeling whole again from having it on. 

“Why didn’t you give it to me last night, when you saw me going crazy trying to find it?” You broke the silence, anger clear in your voice as you clutched your hand to your chest as if he were to rip your ring off your finger again. 

“I wanted to--”

“Then why?!”

“I lost it…” Kili responded, not meeting your ferocious gaze. “I realized that after somewhere on the path from yesterday it must have fallen out of my pocket-”

“Wait… You doubled back… Three leagues, because you felt bad you lost my ring?” Your tone softened as you tried to wrap your head around the whole situation. 

Nodding, Kili kept his eyes on his boots. 

“I’m really sorry, (Y/n), I completely understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”  You were silent again, causing Kili to nod once more. 

“I won’t disturb you anymore, I hope you can forgive me one day.” Kili looked up to give you one last smile before he would leave you alone for good when your lips pressed against his cheek. 

“Thank you for returning it to me,” You grinned at him. “Although I don’t agree with why you took it in the first place, you went so far to make sure I had it again, and… That means a lot to me.” 

Kili broke into a shy smile as you began to tug him back to the company. 

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[erosofthepen]

A Dwarf and his Child

So this is the second chapter of my OC fic, and I think it’s pretty good. Dwalin and Clara travel to the Blue Mountains.

Chapter One

Dwalin didn’t speak very much. But once Clara warmed up to him, he had no choice but to listen. She spoke very openly and it rarely ceased. But it wasn’t as annoying as it was endearing. She would ask very inquisitive questions for such a young girl, and Dwalin could tell she was very bright. In two weeks he learned much about her. And she learned much about where she was going to live.

“Are there any other children I can play with?”

“Aye. Actually, I’ve made arrangements with my friends sister, and you’ll be with her and her two boys while I am away.”

“Boys?’’ Clara said with a face. Dwalin chuckled.

“That bother ye?’’

“Boys are yucky.”

“Indeed they are. But these two are plenty of fun to be around and no doubt you’ll get into all sorts of trouble with them.”

‘’How old are they?’’

“One’s about your age. 32, no? His name is Kili. The other is just a few years older, he’s 38 and named Fili. You’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thieves are bad!”

“Just a saying lass.”

“Oh. Wait. Kili and Fili? They sound just the same!”

“You’ll tell them apart, no worries.”

“How?’’

“Kili has brown hair, Fili’s a blond.”

Claira narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a bit.

“I’ve got it! Fili the fair! Because he has blonde hair. Now I won’t forget. Though, i’ll have to think of something for Kili. There’s no words for brown hair that start with K.”

Dwalin smiled and nodded before leaning back and taking a draw from his pipe.

The Blue Mountains looked very intimidating to a little one. Clara and Dwalin rode their way through different villages and rocky paths. Finally, just after noon one day, the two of them arrived at a village populated with mostly dwarrow. They stopped on the outskirts of town at a little house made of oak.

“Is your hole underneath?” Clara asked.

“Hole?”

“Yeah, your hole. Where you live.”

“Ah. Lass, we live in houses. Not holes. Holes are for hobbits and rabbits.’’

“Oh.”

“You’ll get used to it lass, don’t ye worry.”

“Alright.”

“Afternoon Brother! How was the journey?” A voice called. Clara looked over at the house and standing in the doorway was a grey-haired dwarf with a long beard and red robes.

“Afternoon! We fared just fine.” Dwalin called in return, getting off the pony before helping Clara off.

“Is this the wee lass then?” The grey dwarf asked, making his way over.

“Aye. Clara’s her name. Clara, this is yer Uncle Balin, or Irak’adad Balin, if you will.”

“Earackadad?” She questioned, jumbling the word.

“Irak’adad. It means uncle in the language of dwarves. You’ll learn.”

Clara narrowed her eyes and looked Balin up and down.

“I’m just going to call you Uncle Balin.”

The older dwarf chuckled.

“That’s quite all right. Tell me, did you have a good journey Clara?”

“Indeed I did. I didn’t think the mountains would be so big, but they were absolutely huge. In Hobbiton, there’s no mountains at all, did you know that? But there’s plenty of hills. I lived in the biggest hill, Bagend. Well, sometimes I did. Mostly I lived in Tuck-burough, but my family there didn’t like me very much. They kept calling me a bastard, whatever that means. I don’t think it means something very good. We also live in Holes, but I suppose dwarves don’t. Are houses very cozy?”

Balin looked a bit taken back by her speech, but smiled nonetheless.

“Aye, I think ours is cozy enough. I’ve made up a room for you, and made sure to find the warmest blankets in Ered Luin.”

“I get my own room?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Aye, would ye like me to show ye?”

“Yes indeed!” She said excitedly.

Balin looked up at his brother.

“We’ll meet inside?”

“Aye, shouldn’t take long to unpack.”

Balin took Clara’s hand and led her up the steps. The inside of the house was large, and there were three rooms on the bottom floor. One was the bathroom, another was the study, and the third was Balin’s room. The space that wasn’t closed off was the hearth, table, pantry, and kitchen. There was a stairway that led up to the upstairs.

“That’s where ye and Dwalin be sleeping. He has a room and I’ve added yours.”

Balin eagerly led her up the stairs and opened the door to her room. There was a small bed in the corner and a wardrobe, as well as a vanity with a mirror, with a handsomely woven rug on the wood floor. But Clara wasted no time in letting Balin know her favorite part.

“That’s a ginormous window!” She said, letting go of his hand and crawling up on the bed to press her nose against the glass. It was chilly in the autumn weather but she could see the mountains and forrest’s.

“Aye, I installed it just last week. You like it lass?”

She nodded vigorously.

“I’ve never seen one so big! Not even in the Brandybuck’s lands!”

“I’m glad ye like it.”

They heard thumping coming up the stairs and Dwalin came in with her pack and lambie.

“Right. Let’s get you unpacked and then some luncheon.”

Balin had fished for lunch and they had some nice, plump, rainbow trout. When Balin was dishing the meal out, Dwalin interjected.

“She’s going to need a bit more than that, brother.”

“It’s already a plenty large portion!”

“She’s half-hobbit. Their appetites are something to be feared. And she is a growing girl.”

During luncheon, they spoke of taking Clara to the markets the next day to get fitted for warmer clothes.

“This isn’t the Shire, after all. Those dainty wee dresses won’t do much to keep out the frost.”

“Aye. And we’ll have to get her a pair of boots. Did she go bare-foot this whole way?”

“That’s the way of hobbits. Though, she has more cuts and bruises than I like to see. Seems like she didn’t inherit the hobbit feet.”

“Seems so. Oh, did ye tell her we’re dining with Thorin, Dis, and the lads tonight?”

“No, but might as well tell her now.”

“Can I meet Kili and Fili?” Clara asked, interrupting them.

“Of course lass. You know of them already?”

“Dwalin told me. Are they really princes?”

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a look.

“Aye, they are. In title at least.”

Clara shrugged and bit into a roll before letting her mind wander while the brothers talked.

After luncheon, Balin and Dwalin agreed to draw with Clara.

“Bilbo and I always drew after lunch, while Aunt Bella was cleaning up. She got me some fine charcoal from a craftsman and a sketchbook. They should be up in my room, Let me go get them!”

The brothers were certainly impressed by Clara’s skill. It wasn’t as if she could draw portraits, but it was far better than your average 32 year old.

“Ye must get it from your Adad,” Balin commented. Indeed, despite Dwalin’s fierce manner, he always was the most careful with crafting, and patterns and art in silvers and golds were his specialty.

They spent much of the afternoon drawing (with a snack or two in between), before they got ready to sup. Balin helped Clara choose an outfit and Clara sat patiently as Dwalin braided her hair half up, down the back. At 5 o’clock, they left the house and walked to the other side of the village, coming to stop at probably the grandest of houses. Balin knocked thrice and soon the door was flung open and they were greeted by a Dwarrow with beautiful brown hair. She hugged both the brothers and kissed their cheeks before smiling broadly at Clara.

“And what’s your name Lass?’’

“My name is Clara Took.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Clara. My name is Dís. I hear you are the same age as my son Kili, is that so?”

“Dwalin said he’s thirty three, and I’m thirty three, so it is true!”

A sudden shriek and shouting came from somewhere in the house. Dis closed her eyes and sighed.

“There be the boys now. They’re playing fox and rabbit, but I’m sure they have room for one more.”

“I love fox and rabbit! I always got chosen to be the fox whenever I played with my friends in Hobbiton.”

“That’s very well, my dear. Come in, come in.”

Clara, Balin and Dwalin stepped over the threshold and were nearly run into by two blurs of blue and brown.

“Boys!” Dis scolded. The two of them stopped and turned to look at their mum and the guests.

“Is that the girl?!” Kili asked excitedly. Dis was about to reply when Clara answered for her.

“I’m Clara! You must be Kili, since you have dark hair. Dwalin said you have dark hair and Fili has blonde hair!”

“Hi Clara!” Fili and Kili said as one.

“We’ve never had a friend our age! I mean, a friend whose a girl our age! A girl who is our age! You’re pretty special! What’s your favorite game? I hope you like hide-and-seek! That’s my favorite. Fili likes fox and rabbit, but he always wins because he’s a whole lot stronger and faster. But he won’t be for long. I’ll bet I’m taller than him one day!”

“You wish! I’ll always be taller than you, because I’m older than you!” Fili said.

“Boys,” a new voice said. All three of the children turned to look at a dwarf with black curly hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi.” Clara said shyly. The dwarfs glare turned into a smile as he met Clara’s eyes.

“Hello there lass. What’s your name?”

“My name is Clara. And you have got to be King Thorin! Adad said you’re the bravest King ever born!”

Thorin smile faltered for but a moment and his eyes flickered to Dwalin’s before coming back to Clara.

“He exaggerates. You may just call me Thorin.”

“Oh, alright!”

“Why is your voice like that?” Kili asked.

“Like what?”

“The way you talk, it’s so different!”

“That’s because she’s from a hundred miles away Kee!” Fili said with a sure nod, “All people from far away sound different.”

“Oh okay.”

“You sound different to me too. No hobbits talk like you!” Clara said.

“Hobbits are like rabbits, right?” Kili asked.

“Not at all!”

“Don’t you live in strange burrows?”

“No, we live in hobbit-holes!”

“In the ground?’ Fili asked.

“Yes, In the ground.”

“Then you are a rabbit!”

“No I’m not!”

“Oi!” Dwalin called. “That’s enough I think. Best to stop arguing.”

“Aye,” Thorin agreed. “How about you two show Clara your toy chest?”

“Great idea!”

The older dwarves all watched in amusement as Kili and Fili both grabbed Clara’s hands and dragged her away down the halls.

Chapter Three

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

6. The King’s Share

Aria packed a knapsack appropriate for her travels. She chose outfits that were easy for travels; wouldn't snag or trip her. She packed extras, such as handkerchiefs and an umbrella, and of course she packed food. Aria took along her daggers, which the boys had gifted her after she had completed training in weapon wielding. She left her bakery to her coworkers and borrowed a pony as she set off on her adventure.

She traveled along the Lhûn River, through the Hills of Evendim, and eventually got on the East road. It had been a while since Aria had been out in Arda. She hadn't ever left the dwarf town, so all her traveling had been long ago, when she was a child. Aria couldn't pin exactly what was wrong, but she could feel something sick in the air. Eventually she arrived at Bree, and stopped for a proper rest before leaving again at dawn.

It was nightfall when Aria found herself along the Weather hills, lost in the woods. The sky was overhanging; there was a storm coming, and it was an omen for something bad. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard wolves.

She didn't come this far to be eaten by wolves! Aria needed to throw them off her scent, and the only other creature they could chase was the pony. Aria had a heart for animals, but right now it was the question of her life. She could pay back the pony's owner when they got back to Erebor. Because once they were back in Erebor...

Aria jumped down the pony and took off some essentials, burying them by a landmark tree. After one last caress, she smacked the pony and sent it yelping and running into the forest while she herself took off towards the cliff.

It was a tough climb without the pony, but survival instincts kept her going. The closer she got to the mouth of the cliff, the more she felt warmth. She prayed to all the stars that it was her company, and not something that was planning to make a meal out of her.

"Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." 

Oh, the boys! She heard them from her spot, from where she could see the ponies sleeping. Aria breathed a sigh of relief and had almost sprinted out past her tree when-

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's warning stopped her.

"You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" "We didn't mean anything by it." She could hear the remorse in their voice.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." She heard the pain in his voice. "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs." A new voice stepped in. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

Aria stayed pressed against the tree, listening to the tale of Battle of Moria, the fight that took her father.

"Agog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, here is one who I could follow. There is one... I could call king."

The tears on her hands snapped her out of the daydream. By now all the dwarves had awoken, listening to the legend of Thorin Oakenshield. Their king. Her king. And she would forever stand by him as his queen.

"And the pale Orc? What happened to him?" Asked a voice she didn't recognize.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Aria heard his voice coming closer and rushed to hide herself.

 Thorin felt pride and sorrow as he stood at the edge of the cliff, watching his company stand respectfully for him. The true story of Moria was one he hadn't told anyone, not even the boys. He felt the open air constricting him and stormed off towards the trees for a walk.

He was on edge already from the boys' joke, and the ruffling in the trees didn't help. He turned towards the noise once, but found nothing. He'd killed the pale orc, there was nothing he couldn't take on. Thorin heard a noise again and walked backwards, a plan in his mind. He zigzagged through some trees and came back around, in front of him was someone hooded.

Thorin took out his sword and creeped forward towards his prey. He positioned his hand to cover the person's mouth, his sword ready to thrust forward. Thorin jumped, covering the creature's mouth and turned them around, pressing them against the tree. She squealed behind his palm, afraid from the ambush and the sword tip pressed threateningly hard into her neck.

Thorin blinked a few times. Was this his mind's way of calming him down? Oh no, not again! Not here. But he felt her warm face and her blood rushing beneath his palm. The possibility of her actually being here was worse.

He let her go and stumbled back, and Aria lifted from the tree, taking in deep breaths.

"A-Aria?"

"Hi!" She heaved in reply.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"You left a map in my house. I couldn't just let you go."

Thorin leaned against a tree, arms folded as he watched her.

"I asked you to wait." The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, remembering his claim to her.

"Yes. But you didn't ask me to stay behind."

Thorin knew there was a reason he liked her. He couldn't do with a housewife queen.

"And I can lift my own weight. Fight for myself." She suddenly pulled out her daggers from her waist, swinging them around.

Thorin smiled and pushed off the tree, then walked towards her until he had her pinned again.

"You shouldn't have to."

"But I can. I invited myself along. I'm not asking you to take responsibility for me."

Thorin tipped his forehead to hers, holding her close to him.

"How can I not? You're mine."

Aria pressed her nose against his, snuggling herself into his body.

"Forever."

Thorin leaned back and kissed her head before letting go, walking back towards the camp.

"I've never heard the story before." Aria told him.

"It's not one I enjoy sharing."

She let him have his silence before continuing.

"My father died in Moria." She confessed.

Thorin stopped to look at her.

"Then he must have been a great warrior. I am forever in his debt." He took her hand and kissed it, holding it all the way back to camp.

"Uh, hello? Who's..." the halfling stuttered.

"Ria!" Fili and Kili shouted and ran through the hobbit, almost tackling the dwarrow.

"I didn't know you were coming!"'

"Why didn't you just come with us?"

"Did you bring food?"

"Boys! Leave her alone." Thorin pulled her away, taking her to Gandalf.

"Aria, this is..."

"Gandalf the Grey, I assume?" Aria cut in and curtsied to the wizard. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, my dear."

He next introduced her to the dwarves that hadn't lived in their town, saving the halfling for last.

"And this is Bilbo Baggins."

"How do you do?" Bilbo asked her.

"Fine, thank you. What are you doing with a company of dwarves?"

"He's a burglar!"

"Kili!" Aria chided.

"He's the 14th member of our company." Thorin informed her as he led her to the fire.

"If there's supposed to be 14, where does she fit?" Ori asked.

"Yeah, how will the treasure split now?" another dwarf asked.

"Well she'll be with me of course!" Fili claimed.

"Why you of course?" Kili whined. "She could have mine."

"I love her more than you do!" Fili defended himself.

"No you don't!" Kili argued.

While the boys argued, the rest of the company watched Aria and Thorin sitting by the fire, talking between themselves and smiling.

"Boys!" Dwalin barked to shut them up.

Fili and Kili joined the others in their staring.

"I think she'll have the king's share."

"Works for me!" The brothers winked.

ch5 ch7

[darnloveablecharacters]

Prove Me Wrong, Part Twenty-Two: Too Late

Series Summary:  Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Told you it would be up soon :\ I know I’ve been saying this A LOT lately, but I had to re-write this chapter too many times because the way I originally wrote it was.... completely non value added lol. As always, hope you enjoy and thank you for all of your support!!!

Warnings for this chapter: Slight fluff and angst

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967 @rices4me93​ If you want to be added just let me know!

Caithwistë sat stiffly at the table between Bifur and Fili, tapping her fingers as Beorn spoke of his imprisonment by Azog. The story sounded far too similar to her own. Beorn’s kin had been tortured for no other reason than Azog’s own amusement. Consumed by her anger at their uncontested brutality, she missed the rest of the conversation until she heard Mithrandir say, “We must go through Mirkwood.” She glanced at him with a mixture of surprise and frustration, but he simply shot her an apologetic glance and quickly returned his attention to their host.

She slipped off the bench and stepped lightly passed Thorin, taking a calming breath. He gave her a questioning stare, but she shook her head and waved him off as Beorn responded. She realized then that she had never expected to make it this far with the Company. She hadn’t even considered it before, but it was now obvious that they would have to travel through the forest to reach Erebor in time. She wondered briefly if her presence would bring them even more danger before Thorin’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” He asked with concern in response to something that Beorn had said. He was closer to her than he had been, she hadn’t even noticed him moving.

“These lands are crawling with Orcs, their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.” Beorn said ominously, forcing the eyes of the entire Company to fall on him intently. He stood then, towering over all of them and stepping forward without taking his eyes off Thorin. “I don’t like dwarves, they’re greedy and blind. Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.” He stopped his movement, glaring down at the table as Bofur shoved a white mouse off his arm. He plucked the mouse off the table and regarded it for a moment before his eyes widened. “But Orcs I hate more.” He said finally, handing the small rodent to Caithwistë. She cradled it gently, stroking its soft fur absentmindedly. Beorn smiled at her then and turned to Thorin. “What do you need?”

~

As the Company worked to saddle the ponies that Beorn provided them, Caithwistë pulled Mithrandir roughly out of earshot from the rest of them. “I do not think it would be wise for me to accompany you through Mirkwood.” She said softly when they were far enough away.

Mithrandir looked at her in surprise. “I do not believe there is a single one of us that can travel that path better, we need you.”

Caithwistë glared back at him. After all this time, she was still unsure of what the wizard truly wanted from her in this quest. “I’ve not been there in over three-hundred years and I was only a child then. I will not be able to help, I will only draw more danger if the Elves realize that I am there.” She said with a hope that he would see reason.

Mithrandir did not. “Are you so willing to abandon the quest now? Caithwistë, we are too close to the mountain to give up on them.” He said with exasperation.

“I don’t mean to abandon the quest.” She replied, crossing her arms stubbornly. “Besides, it is the Company that I wish to protect.”

“Oh?” Mithrandir asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “And how can you protect them if you are not with them?”

Caithwistë tried to fight her growing anger as she responded. “It is time for me to fulfill my duty as a tracker and hunter.” She began slowly and Mithrandir raised an eyebrow. “I plan to track Azog down. With me distracting the pack, it should give the others enough time to reach Mirkwood safely.”

Mithrandir scoffed. “That is out of the question.”

The abrupt dismissal came as a shock to Caithwistë. Mithrandir had never regarded her so flippantly, and it only accentuated her anger. “You do not control me.” She said in a growl.

“No, I do not.” He said in agreement. Her expression softened slightly but she still watched him warily. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately before he continued. “No one can control you except for yourself. However, how would you feel if one that you cared for gave the same offer?” He asked knowingly.

Caithwistë’s eyes widened and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing toward the Company. Her eyes flicked between all of them, those who had treated her with trust and respect. She had come to love them all and she sighed. Eventually, her gaze rested on Thorin who was perched on his pony, watching them with confusion. Mithrandir was right, and she knew it. She finally returned her focus to the wizard that was smirking at her but before she could respond, Beorn approached them with another pony and horse trailing behind him. “Go now, while you have the light. Your hunters are not far behind.” He warned as he handed the reins over to them.

Mithrandir gave her a pointed look and she climbed onto the pony with a huff, frustrated. “This is not a good idea.” She muttered to him. He studiously ignored her protest as he led the Company away from the house at a swift pace.

They rode tirelessly for days, stopping only to give the ponies a quick break and to take a meal when they needed it. They wouldn’t be stopped for long though, before packing up and continuing their relentless journey. Even with the time that had passed, it was far sooner than Caithwistë would have wished when they finally stopped before the Elven Gate.

She was carefully watching Mithrandir explore around the gate when Bilbo stood next to her. “This forest feels sick, as if a disease lies upon it.” He said with a slight hint of trepidation.

Caithwistë regarded him with interest, surprised at his perception. “The Elves of Imladris told me once that it wasn’t always like this. It was called the Greenwood before. They said it was beautiful before the shadow fell upon it.”

Bilbo frowned at her. “I wish I could have seen it like that, instead of having to travel through it like this.” He said solemnly.

“As do I, Bilbo.” She replied with equal sadness.

“Caithwistë?” Came Thorin’s voice from behind them. “Might we have a word?” He asked when she turned to him.

Surprised, she simply nodded silently and patted Bilbo on the shoulder before following Thorin. “What is it?” She asked when they had moved far enough away to not be overheard.

Thorin’s fingers were tapping against his sword, he was agitated. “Are you angry with me?” He asked bluntly after a moment.

Of all the things Caithwistë had expected, this was not it. “Of course not. Why would you think so?” She asked warily.

Thorin gave her a calculating stare before continuing. “You were arguing with Gandalf. I thought…” His words faltered and she waited patiently as he rubbed his face with frustration. “I thought you were trying to leave… because I didn’t keep my promise.” She raised her eyebrows at that but had no words. After a few moments of silence Thorin grabbed her hands and gazed at her, pleading. “I promised you that I would try to be less judgmental of the Elves. I cannot though, not with those who abandoned me in my greatest time of need.”

Caithwistë was stunned. “Thorin…” She began and he regarded her with glassy eyes. She squeezed his hands and continued. “I am not angry with you. In fact, I could never fault you for this. I…”

She could not continue as she was wrapped in a tight hug. “Thank you, Unalê.” Thorin murmured quietly.

Caithwistë smiled when they broke apart and Thorin scratched his head sheepishly. After a moment though, she frowned suddenly feeling sick. They had come too far and it was time to tell him, before it was too late. “Thorin, there is something I must tell you.” She said, fear beginning to grip her.

Thorin glanced at her, painfully hopeful. She winced, but opened her mouth to speak before Mithrandir’s booming voice interrupted them. “Not my horse, I need it!”

Caithwistë shared a worried glanced with Thorin before they turned to the commotion. It was Bilbo that addressed Mithrandir first. “You’re not leaving us?”

“I would not do this unless I had to.” Mithrandir replied, before stopping and sharing a quiet conversation with the hobbit.

“Great.” Caithwistë muttered.

Thorin gave her a brief grin before Mithrandir turned to him. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me.” He said abruptly as he mounted his horse. “This is not the Greenwood of old, the very air of the forest is heavy with illusion that will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

Caithwistë grimaced as Bilbo questioned the wizard. “Lead us astray? What does that mean?”

“You must stay on the path, do not leave it. If you do, you’ll never find it again. No matter what may come, stay on the path!” Mithrandir called out, turning his horse abruptly and swiftly riding away.

Thorin glanced at Caithwistë apologetically. “We will speak about this after we pass through.” He promised. She simply nodded sadly and he turned to The Company. “Come on, we must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin’s Day.” He called out, striding purposefully toward the gate. “Let’s go, we’ve but one chance to find the hidden door.”

Caithwistë sighed. “After we pass may be too late.” She muttered to herself as she followed the Company into the darkened forest.

Translations: Unalê – My Tracker (khuzdul)

[centuryofdean]

When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 13

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+ At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language, Violence and Scenes of Sexual Nature

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Kili

We traveled forward without haste. Though they were surely chasing us, we had enough of a lead to continue on without running. I could feel Laurel walking awkwardly behind me through our grasped hands. With difficultly I took my hand back to adjust my pack to wrap around my waist. "Climb on," I murmured, "I will carry you for a while."

When I stopped I felt her grasp my shoulders and start to hop onto my waist. Her legs wrapped around my hips, one underneath my pack, and her thighs squeezing tightly around me. The action and feel of her legs on me brought a smirk to my face. It was pleasant, and brought back fresh memories of how just a few mere days ago she was wrapped around me and kissing me with vigor.

A soft even sigh caressed my cheek. Her head had come to rest on my shoulder, and by the lack of pressure around my shoulders and hips, I could tell she had fallen asleep. Fili slowed down to match my pace, offering me a smirk at the sight of Laurel wrapped around me. "She must be tired," he murmured, "we have been running day and night. If you tire I will carry her for you."

Against my will my eyes turned to slits at his words. I have listened to Laurel tell me that there was nothing to be jealous of when it concerned my brother, but I could not help but feel it anyway. The thought of any one—dwarf, man, hobbit, elf—touching her in any way that was more than friendly had my blood boiling. Even that of my brother.

Fili sighed, "All harmless brother."

"I saw you looking at her… like I look at her," I mumbled off softly slightly saddened by the thought. It was not something I told Laurel. When her and my brother were talking, Fili gazed at her with satisfaction and appreciation. A look that said he wanted to keep.

Fili had the decency to look a little ashamed, a tint of red coating his cheeks. "I did for a moment," he uttered, "but it is difficult not to. She is very beautiful, even without a scruffy face. You have nothing to worry about. Even if I wanted to sweep her away from you, which I do not, I simply could not. Lady Laurel talks too highly of you."

After a while we stopped to fill our water pouches at a stream. Laurel did not wake as I laid her gently on the ground. The Hobbit offered to scout and see how far we were from the orc pack and if the Lonely Mountain was within our reach. I drank heavily from one pouch before retrieving one from Laurel's pack to fill it for her and refill my own. The rest of the company were sitting about near a very small fire in the rising sun.

"Kili."

Thorin's voice was always so serious and demanding. Just now it was soft and tired.

"Yaes uncle," I murmured, rising to meet him.

He sighs while he plopped down and hissed at his injuries. His next words threw me off guard, "We must talk about the girl."

"What about Laurel," I asked, eyes seeking out her slumbering form. Fili was sitting next to her drinking his water. I was curious to hear what Thorin had to say, seeing as he was so kind to Laurel just a while ago.

"I was wrong about her," he started looking a little lost, "she was brave and loyal, even to me who treated her unfairly. Anything that happens between the two of you, I cannot stop. A bastard child I cannot bless. A union between the two of you is something I wish to bless, but our brethren will not allow for it."

The words he spoke of were contradicting. It sounded as if he was okay with the idea of Laurel and I, but he hated it. "If you were not a prince," he huffed, "perhaps no comments would be made. The court of Erebor that would come would not tolerate this of a prince."

A snort tore through my nostril, "I do not care of what the court of Erebor thinks. I care only for her and her safety. Once we take back the mountain and you are crowned a king formally, you will be in control of whatever you wish, and the court will abide by it."

With those words I rose, taking guarded steps to the red-head's sleeping form only to rouse her from sleep. Confusion clouded her eyes as she started to wake, the limbs of her body begun to seize as she begun to tense. My hand found her cheek where my thumb rubbed just under her eyes, "It's just me little doe. We are resting, drink up."

The other hand that was holding her water skin up to her lips. Without attempting to raise her own hand, she leaned into me and closed her eyes once more as she drank heavily, every last drop. Fili offered to take the pouch and refill it.

Bilbo rushed into our clearing, huffing.

"How close is the pack," Dwalin urged.

"A couple of leagues, too close. That isn't all though," he gasped.

Gandalf rose pulling his staff up to its great height before looking around, "What is it Bilbo?"

"A bear, larger than any one I have ever seen."

The old wizard stood straighter, huffing as well, "There is a house, it is not far from here, where we might take refuge."

Thorin arrived closer with Fili at his heels. "Are they friend or foe," uncle asked hotly.

"Neither, he will hunt us or he will kill us."

The roar of an animal ripped through the forest. Laurel tensed from under me, hands pushing herself up from where she lay. "How far is the beast," she croaked.

"Just a bit closer than the orcs," Bilbo responded.

In seconds everyone was up, preparing for another run. Once on their feet and ready to move, we started out at a mild jog through the woods, Gandalf leading the company. Laurel had a look of determination set on her face as she kept pace with me at one side, Fili reacting much the same on my other.

This was no easy journey. First there were trolls and goblins and orcs, now there was a giant bear chasing us.

Once we cleared the forest we were running through an open meadow, in the distance there appeared to be a stone and wooden enclosure. "There! That is the house," Gandalf bellowed from the front of the front of the company. We were moving from a slower pace to a flat out run at the sight of the house hidden behind the walls. Each of the dwarves were huffing as their legs worked to reach the house faster.

The ground beneath us started to shake every other second. Another roar tore through the air around us, shaking even me to the bone. Laurel looked behind us and screamed softly, "Fucking shit!"

What did she see? I turned around to gaze at what she was scared of.

Standing at least ten feet tall—on all fours—was a ferocious dark brown bear, baring all of his sharp white teeth. Just behind us. I turned back around, ready to pick up my pace when I noticed Laurel was running almost as fast as a gazelle. Bombur was right behind her. They were the first to reach the gates of the enclosure. As soon as Bofur, the last dwarf was inside the enclosure we all started to push the gate door closed. A ruff snout and teeth growled at us through the crack attempting to get inside, but we were able to lock the door with the monster out.

"What was that," Ori trembled from the ground.

All around us there were beautiful flowers and plants, each larger than I would have normally seen. There were also large animals coming closer to sniff at each and every one of us.

"That is our host," Gandalf gruffed as he started to go towards the moss covered house. "His name is Beorn, and his is a skin-changer."

Skin-changer? So that beast was actually a man that could change from the skin of man to the skin of bear when he saw fit? The idea sent chills down my spine.

"Sometimes he's a huge black bear, sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear," Gandalf laughed without humor, "is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However he is not fond of dwarves."

How incredibly fantastic. Run right into the den of the beast that does not like dwarves. At least the wizard, Bilbo, and Laurel might be spared.

"Rest for now," Gandalf sighed, "until tomorrow we are safe."

The company trudged into the house, finding that inside there was a stable of sorts without any horses or ponies. Just a lot of hay. Laurel went to one of the corners and lay on her side, tossing her pack out of her way along with her weapons. I followed her lead and left my pack and weapons next to hers. We had been running all day again, most of the company already drifting off to slight snores. My brother settled down next to me as well. Thorin and Gandalf spoke softly. By the rays of the sun that were filtering into the windows, it was probably a little past half of the day was gone.

I laid back against the hay with my arms stretched out behind me, letting the aches in my muscles take time to adjust to relaxing. Soon I was slowly drifting off to the sound of Laurel's even breathing.

A soft low moan and a kick to my leg woke me. The darkness covered the house we slept in, and a quick glance around let me know that the rest of the company were sleeping soundly. As my eyes settled on Laurel, I remember why I woke. She moved slightly, moaning low in her throat. The thrash of her head back and forth led me to believe that she was having a bad dream. I rested my hand on her hip, about to shake when she moaned softly again.

"Kili."

The way she said my name was similar to the night at Rivendell when I was kissing her neck earnestly.

A heat started to emit from my groin, blood pumping a little faster at the sound. So she was dreaming of me, and by the sounds of it, it was a very good dream. Why was I not dreaming with her? The more I thought about it, I have not dreamt of her since she arrived to Middle Earth.

Another moan rippled through her throat, but slightly louder. I feared she would wake the company, but at the same time I did not want to interrupt her pleasant dream. Maybe it would give her the push she needed to embrace me in such a way when she woke.

Hay was grasped tightly in each of her hands at either side of her hips, which were thrusting upwards subtly.

My member grew with the sight, the ache in my loins came strongly as I fought the urge to run my hands all over her body. With all the members of the company sleeping just mere feet away, I could not try to do what I truly wanted.

There were countless nights where I stayed awake in my bed or on my roll thinking of her in inappropriate ways. Every time I imagined her naked, she was always on top of me or below me. Those nights were long and full of frustration as I always fulfilled my need. It irked me how some mere girl of my night time dreams drove me to madness. My days were filled with her in my head and how she would love to have lived in my world. Sometimes I day dreamed of her there with me when I hunted and did chores, almost as if she were my imaginary friend.

"Oh Kili," she moaned more softly again, teeth catching her bottom lip as her hips made a larger thrust, "don't stop yet."

Feeling ashamed, one of my hands grasped myself through my trousers while the other hand hesitantly ghosted over her through her own. A soft gasp came from her as she thrashed her head to the side and her hips ground against my hand. With careful timely hand movements I rubbed her softly, my hand becoming hot with the heat she was emitting. The other hand of mine was just holding myself, I was fearful someone would wake and catch me in the act of doing anything more.

I moved the fingers at her core a little more swiftly in the same rhythm of her thrusting. Suddenly she seized upwards sharply before moaning once more her face scrunched up in ecstasy, lips forming a small 'o'. She then became limp, breathing heavily before rolling into me and snoring softly.

By the Valar. Softly untangling myself so I did not wake her, I rose and cringed at the tenting of my trousers. I was going to be a while outside.

Previous Chapter << Chapter 12: Home is Where the Heart Is

Next Chapter >> Chapter 14: Moonlight Hues

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter4

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnigs: None

Words:2k

We follow the eagles for a while, during the trip Drogon always flew high in the air, for the dwarfs not see us yet. After two hours of flying, the eagles land on a giant rock, letting the dwarfs and hobbit climb down of they back. Oh God...this is it! I hope they don’t faint. I look back to Gandalf “Are you sure about this?” I ask with worried voice, he took a deep breath “Yes...it’s the only way that they can reclaim the lonely mountain.” I nod and order Drogon to land in front of them.

As Drogon was landing, I could hear the dwarfs screaming and yell to prepare to fight. Oh boy, this is going to be good...Drogon roars to them, making them shaking on they boots. Gandalf climb off from Drogon and walk to the dwarfs “Calm down, boys! Everything it’s okay!” he warns them. Thorin jumps in front of the group with rage on his eyes “What is this, Gandalf?! You infiltrate a spy of the Dark Lord?!” he growls, Gandalf sighs “She is not a spy of Dark Lord, Thorin Oakenshield! She is here to help you reclaim Erebor and you will need her and Drogon helps!” he says firmly to the stubborn dwarf. I stay on Drogon back all the time, hearing the two arguing, all the sudden I notice Bilbo walking slowly to Drogon, looking to him in awe. He lifts his hand, trying to pet the dragon snout. I order Drogon to low his head and let Bilbo pet him, a small smile forms on the hobbit face when his hand touch the warm scales “Wow...He’s so warm...” he whispers, almost to himself.  

Suddenly Bilbo was pull off the dragon by Dwalin “Don’t touch that beast, Bilbo! He might eat your hand!” he says a while looking to me with disgust in his eyes, my blood start boiling as I heard the word ‘Beast’ “Do not call him beast, dwarf! He is my family!” I growl to him, a while Drogon begin growling to the company as he feels my anger rise inside me. Thorin pick his sword “Calm this beast right now! I should have known that you didn’t seem right...your name..your appearance..the way you fight! I should have said no when you enter Bilbo house!” he growls to me with venom on his words. Gandalf looks to me with worried eyes, I look down to my hands, feeling hurt by his words “Go back to your cave, you beasts! You are no longer on this quest!...Leave now, you dragon banger!” with those words, a wave of anger and rage run through me “DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU FILTHY DWARF!” I yell to him. Thorin froze with my words, he looks up to me with rage in his eyes, burning with blazing fire.  

He grabs tightly the handle of his sword and charge to me and Drogon, lifting his sword high in the air to try stab Drogon. The company begin yelling for him to stop and Gandalf try to grab him but as Thorin came closer of Drogon, he was push back with the force of Drogon roar. The dwarfs grab Thorin arms and pull him to them, then he looks to me with hate “I don’t want to see you in front of me never again!” with that he and the company begin to leave, walking towards Erebor. Bilbo meet my gaze and gave me a sad smile, Gandalf walk to me “Don’t listen to him. That dwarf head is hard as a stone. He will accept you...don’t worry.” I nod and try to clean some tears that had fall down my cheeks, “I know...but it hurts. Everyone I know is afraid of me and ...of my house. I’m tired of to be a frighten person...” Gandalf sighs “You aren’t a frighten person, Daenys. People only fear the things that they don’t understand...Give time to the dwarfs. Fly in the direction of that forest, there you will find a skin changer, Beorn. He will help you.” I nod but look at him confused “But what about the quest? Am I really out of the group?” I ask worried “No, you are not. We will meet you there with the skin changer. Now go!” with that I order Drogon to fly us there. I look down as I pass by the dwarfs, who look up to me with a shocked look. Ahhh....That didn’t go well as I thought...

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After sometime of flying, I see a cabin with some animals there. Drogon lands in front of the cabin and as I was climbing down, a huge man walks out from the house. He was wearing some old clothes, with some holes and dirt on them. His face was almost all cover with hair, I took a step forward, not very far from Drogon “Are you Beorn?” I ask, he nods “Yes...and you are Daenys Targaryen, Gandalf send me a message talking about you. Come in...your friend can hide on a cave not far from here.” I nod and thank him. I turn to Drogon “Go hide in the cave, my friend. I will find when it’s time to go.” I say to him a while petting his warm scales. Then I walk to the cabin, following Beorn.  

Inside the cabin, there were a bunch of animals, cows, goats, some horses and other animals. Beorn led me to a wood table and serve me some hot milk “Here..Drink, it will help you relax.” I grab the cup and start drinking. As I was drinking, I notice on his wrist a metal chain and some scars along his arms. Looking down to my cup, I try to not look to them, knowing that will cause him feel uncomfortable “Thank you for your hospitality. You are very kind, sir.” I say with a warm smile on my lips, he nods and walk to the front door “Your welcome...you can rest on the straw over there...Also don’t come out of the house at night, it’s dangerous.” with that he leaves the house. A sigh falls from my lips, I hope the company was okay! Even if they all hate me, I still worry about them.

Putting the cup on the table, I walk to the pile of straw beside of the goats, petting one on the head, I lie down, feeling my body melt. Closing my eyes, I let sleep take over me, leading me to the realm of dreams.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days have pass and there wasn’t any sight of the company. I spend my days helping Beorn with the farm work, cleaning the stalls, feeding the animals, letting them go outside during the day. It was a peaceful life here, a life that I would love have in here.  

Beorn was patrolling around the forest, since he smelled the orc pack near. I was giving some carrots to the horses inside the cabin, as all the sudden the front door busted open and the company runs inside. I run to them and saw a large bear head trying to come in but the dwarfs shut the door. They all were catching they breaths that they didn’t notice me standing there, Thorin look to Gandalf “What was that?!” Gandalf supported himself on his staff “That, Thorin Oakenshield, was our host!” everyone looks to each other with a fear on they eyes. I took a step forward, grabbing the company attention “Daenys!!” Bilbo jumps into my arms, hugging me warmly “Hello, Mister Baggins.” I say a while wrapping my arms around him “What is she doing here??” Thorin voice sounded beside me. I lift my gaze from Bilbo and meet his “Thorin...she is not banned of the company. Daenys will come with us even if you like it or not! Now everyone go rest.” Gandalf said firmly to Thorin, then walks to me “It’s good to see you, my child.” he gave me a kiss on my forehead and went sit on a chair.  

The sound of people talking and the animals eating straw woke me up from my lovely sleep, siting up I saw the company on the table eating and Beorn serving them some milk. As I try to stand up, an arm grabs my waist tightly, looking down I saw Bilbo sleeping soundly beside me. A smile forms on my lips, he’s so pure I think to myself. I start shaking him “Bilbo...Bilbo, it’s time to wake up.” I said softly to him, his eyes fluttered open and rub them with his fist “Good morning, Daenys.” he said a while yawning.  

I stand up “Good Morning, Bilbo! Come...Let’s eat something before the dwarfs eat all of it.” I offer my hand to help him up and walk to the table, sitting beside Kili and Fili. Everyone at the table stop talking as them see me, in the corner of my eye I saw Thorin walk away with Dwalin following close behind. I sigh and start eating, ignoring the stares of the dwarfs.

After we were finish, we go outside where ponies and two horses were ready for us “You can take them but set them when you arrive to Greenwood.” Beorn says then he looks to me “Goodbye, little dragon. Remember that you always have a home here.” I smile and hug him tighly “Thank you, Beorn. One day I will take you for a fly.” I joke with them “You should know that a bear is always on the ground.” he said a while ruffling my hair.  

I walk to my horse as the company were waiting for me, as I mount my horse, I heard Drogon roar, looking up I saw him flying around in the air, waiting for us to start moving. Thorin grumbles something under his breath and start trotting, I roll my eyes and order my horse to walk forward.

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath trying to calm myself “Are we going the right way?” “We are walking in circles!” “I don’t feel so good...” everyone was starting panic. Since we have walk inside the elvish forest, that I don’t have been feeling good. This forest was sick and darkness was killing it, I could feel eyes watching us. A sigh escapes from me, why did you have to leave Gandalf? Now we are lost in this haunted forest. I look around trying to find Bilbo but I didn’t see him anywhere “Wait! Where is Bilbo?” I ask a while a look around but the dwarfs didn’t hear and continue walking. Fuck! Where are you Bilbo?  

Suddenly giant spiders jump from everywhere, attacking us. I grab my daggers and start slashing spider after spider “What the hell is those things?” I ask to Fili, who was also killing spiders, “I don’t know! Can you order your beast to burn those things?” I roll my eyes and continue killing spiders.

As I finish killing one of those creatures, an arrow passes right beside my head, killing a spider behind me. I look up and saw a group of elves killing every single spider around us, I stay still in awe watching them move with such grace, like they were feathers flowing around the air.  

When they finish killing every spider, they walk to us, aiming they arrows to us “Why a group of dwarfs and a female human are in our forest?” an elf with blood hair speak to Thorin “Mind you own business, elf!” he growls to the blood elf, that I think was the leader of the group. The elf rolls his eyes and order to take our weapons, when his gaze met my mine, his body froze. He stays looking at me with a curious look “Where are you from, my lady?” he asked, I look down to Thorin, warning him to not speak about Drogon, “I’m from near the Shire, sir.” I answer him with a calm voice, he nods and looks to the rest of the group “Let’s take them to the King!” he put me and the rest of the company in handcuffs and lead us to the Palace.

After a long walk, we arrive to the Palace. A small gasp fall from my lips as I saw the inside the Palace, it was beautiful! Never in my life I saw a Palace or a castle like this, it was like was build inside a big tree. There is roots and trees everywhere, a big river flows inside the Palace, making a lovely sound. My thoughts were interrupted the blood elf order to take the rest of the company to the dungeons, a while he takes me and Thorin to the King. Nerves begin rise inside, hopping that this would go well and Thorin would not do something stupid.

We enter the Throne room and my breath was taken away from me as I see the person sitting on the Throne. He was with on leg on top the other, slightly shaking his foot. His hair was silver, almost like mine and his eyes were the lightest blue color I ever seen, looking like the blue sky in a cool winter afternoon. His features were sharp, looking almost like a cat. He was gorgeous!

He looks to Thorin when the blood elf presented us “Those are the ones that we found in the forest, adar!” adar? Ohh so he is the Prince...”Why Thorin Oakenshield was in my forest, can I ask?” the king begin walk down the stairs slowly “None of your business!” oh boy...This is going down! The king stops in front of us and look at me, analyzing me from top to bottom “And who is this beauty?” he ask softly, a blush begin spreading on my cheeks “My name is Daenys Targaryen, my King!” I spoke shyly, a while playing with my hands. He stays quiet looking directly to my eyes, like he was trying to find some lie “Very well...I will talk to you later, my Lady! Take her to my guest room!” wait, what!? I look to Thorin with a confused face but he only looks to the King with rage in his eyes. The Prince took away my handcuffs and lead me to my room. Fuck! What’s going on? What will the King do to me?! I took a deep breath and close my eyes, I could feel Drogon near. I sigh as I feel more relax, since Drogon could safe me at any time.

Let’s hope everything would go well and that Gandalf would come safe us.

Hey Guys!! Here new chapter. I hope you are liking this serie and if want to be on taglist, comment down below. Feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!!

XOXO

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[bluebellhairpin]

The Girl Who Knew The End {3}

“I Was With Child”

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Chapter Two // Lullaby of Woe

Chapter Three // (You’re Here!)

Chapter Four // While We’re Here

A/N: I’m so very lazy. - Nemo

Summary: The time has come for Bilbo to be (almost) eaten by trolls. As it turns out, movies don’t convey exactly how disgusting the bags the dwarfs were placed in were. You decided to buy yourself and the others some time by completely faking becoming a mother... Or were you not lying? 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist  

{Edited 24-02-2020}

“I hate this part.” you mumbled to yourself, hiding in the bushes behind Fili and Kili as you watched Bilbo try and release the stolen ponies. 

The brothers gave you a strange look, but by now you were used to those looks, just as they were used to you blurting out random incoherent sentences in the middle of random conversations. 

“Fili, go get the others. We’ll need them soon.” you said, hitting the blond dwarf in the direction back towards your camp. He obeyed. 

“What would we need the others-” Kili started, looking back at you before turning at the sound of Bilbo’s distressed yelp. You looked up at him, shaking your head from side to side as the Hobbit started conversation with the trolls. 

“You’re getting good at this.” Kili said, smirking back at you before unsheathing his sword and stepping out of the bushes. The others came up behind you soon after, then you were lurched into a fight with the giant beings. Well, they looked awfully giant to you, but you guessed that would have to do with how small you were now. 

They’d probably be less intimidating if you were a normal human height. 

The battle was short-lived, just like you remembered, and soon you were all being packed up into bags. You didn’t want to be put into a bag, they looked far too dirty, and no doubt you’d end up underneath one of the larger members of the Company, or worse - stuck on top of Thorin. Not something you were looking forward to. 

The dumb troll moved to pick you up, you stepped back as it’s hands came closer, racking through your mind for some excuse as to why you shouldn’t be bagged up. 

“Wait, no! You can’t put me in one of those!” you yelled, now squirming in the trolls hand. He looked at you with a sideways head-tilt.

“Why not? You’ve got nothin’ special about you.”

“I-I do! I’m not like the others, you couldn’t even eat me yet.” One of the smarter trolls looked over, noticing the extra fight you were putting up.

“Why wouldn’t we eat you yet? A dwarrowdam is more tasty than a dwarf.” He said.

“A-Ah, that’s the thing. I’m…” you swallowed, thinking of something women could do that men couldn’t. Then it hit you. “I’m with child!” you blurted.

“Meaning you’re extra, extra tasty. More meat on you.” The smarter troll took you from the dumber one, grabbing some ropes to add you to the spit where two others were already tied up.

“No, wait, wait! Just think! Once I get bigger and give birth you’d have an extra dwarf to eat. I’ve heard dwarflings are even more delicious than dwarrowdam’s.” you spoke quickly, wasting no time in trying to lie you’re way out of being eaten.

“And why wouldn’t we still tie you up with the others?” The troll asked.

“Because… Tying me up would restrict the growth of the child.” you bluffed, knowing all you needed to buy more time. Gandalf would be here at daybreak if you couldn’t leave to retrieve him sooner, and Bilbo would help even more later. “If I’m not tied up then the child will be bigger.” you added, nodding as if to convince them.

The trolls seemed to buy your excuse and put you down in the pen with the ponies. You looked over at the pile of dwarves and Bilbo, catching Thorin’s eye as you slowly moved towards the back of the pen in hopes you could just slip away to get help. The trolls were too busy trying to stop one of the dwarfs from squirming to notice you slide out of the pen and back further into the forest. 

Thorin watched you, his mind telling him you were slipping away to save your own skin, but his heart told him to stay silent and wait. Even though he thought you disliked him with a fiery passion, you held both his nephews in high regard, and became almost like a daughter to Balin. He believed you wouldn’t leave those you liked to die simply because you thought one person you disliked deserved it. 

You managed to find Gandalf within the next half hour, and you managed to watch on as he saved the others without risking your own skin again. Once the trolls were stone, you set to quick work of helping the others out of their restraints. 

You’d already unbagged Fili, and Dwalin when you reached Thorin. He looked at you intently as you worked on the bag.

“How’d you come up with that idea? To fake yourself being with child?” he started, “If Gandalf didn’t save us and we were stuck, you’d only prolong your own suffering.” Once he finished you were also finished with his bag, letting him get himself out fully as you leant back on a stone.

“I was with child, at one point in my journey here.” you mumbled, “Technically it wasn't mine, but by the time our time together ended it seemed like he was.” You played with your hands as he looked over you with a slightly shocked face.

“How? What happened?” He seemed genuinely interested, and you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach that made you want to share everything with him. 

“I was passing through the Misty Mountains, and came across a cave where others had taken shelter before me. The only people left from their group were a mother and her infant son.” You started, taking a deep breath to keep your emotions in check. “She begged me to take him, to keep him safe. I tried my best, but orcs always have a way of ruining everything - even promises.” 

Gandalf had said you'd come across orcs and trolls before. This was your encounter with orcs, but what about trolls? He decided to ask, leaning beside you as you both looked towards the others. 

“If you don't mind me asking, and I don't want to come across as prying, but what exactly happened?” He asked gently, keeping his eyes forwards and off you. 

“It was a little ways back towards the mountains from here.” you started softly, “I had Kha- the child strapped to my back, I had to tuck my pack under my arm, so I couldn't get to my sword quickly if an attack came. I knew it was risky, but the boy couldn't walk, he was too small, I had no other choice. Then, out of nowhere, orcs came. I found later that it was an ambush, prepared for someone else, but they got me and the child instead.” You let out a shaken sigh, eyes watering slightly, and your hands wringing each other in your lap. “Trolls came after, and in the confusion I could get away.” 

Thorin felt guilt was over him. He took in a silent breath of courage, then took one of your hands in his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles. He felt himself relax when you didn't object to his actions. 

You looked up at him, and he down at you. 

“I'm sorry.” He felt that it was partially his fault for the child's death, but it was either orcs or frostbite. Orcs certainly would have been a much quicker death, frostbite would've been much slower since hunger and thirst would've come into play too. Orcs may be cruel, but they prefer the quick death of children since they weep more than they scream. 

“You wouldn't have helped much. His death was one of those things fate decides, you can't change that, only the way it happens.” 

Thorin and you shared a look, one that passed understanding between you both for a few long moments. He needed you, for something really was going to happen on this journey back to his homeland. You needed him - so you could get home too. 

An unspoken agreement was formed. 

You’d help each other. No more pushing each other's buttons. No more getting on one another's nerves. 

You’d finally get along.

Series Taglist: @thorins-queen-of-erebor  @pigeonsbones @captainrainbowpanda @theabandonedchocolate

[branching-paths]

Of Beads and Bowls

AN; So this is really late. But here it is

    Two days later, Thorin had gotten steadily worse, and unfortunately so had Oin. I glanced over at them, grinning to myself, despite the rain. Last night, when we had stopped to sleep, Thorin had looked like an over cooked, over stuffed cream puff. Oin looked like one too, but it wasn't quite as humorous.     "Keep up hobbit," Myrin hissed. She was leading the company with Gandalf, through Bree. Everyone had their hoods up, keeping their heads dry. I was borrowing one from Dwalin right now. We all scurried underneath a roof, huddling close together. Gandalf looked around, leaning on his staff heavily.

    "Where's our destination Myrin," He huffed. She lifted her arm and pointed to a rather shady inn across the street. The sign was blowing in the light wind, it was a brown horse pawing the air. The inn's name was underneath the horse, The Prancing Pony. Gandalf pursed his lips and looked down at Myrin, who was the only one who wasn't huffing and puffing. "Good choice for this many occupants, but are you sure-" Thorin coughed, interrupting Gandalf. Fili mumbled something to Thorin, ducked under his arm and Kili took his spot holding up Thorin.     "I know it's not the best, but it's the cheapest and cleanest," Myrin growled. She ran ahead, opened up the door and motioned for us to hurry over. We scrambled over and walked inside. Gandalf counted heads and lead us over to a table. Myrin grabbed my shoulder and held me back. "I need help getting food and such." I nodded. Gandalf looked at me, frowned, then nodded for some reason. I pulled my hood down and looked around. To my left was the bar, in front of me was the hearth with a roaring fire in it, and there were about thirty tables everywhere else. The company took a corner table, sticking Thorin and Oin in the middle.     " 'Ello, what might I do for ye," Someone asked. He seemed to be the barkeeper, but he was very old. Myrin looked up with her sweetest smile and pulled off her hood.     "How many rooms do you have available," She asked, still playing on the sweet card. "Me and my husband are traveling with my brothers." She grabbed my arm and pulled me close, hanging on my arm. I tried not to look surprised, but I must have, because Myrin stomped on my foot. I clutched her arm and gave a bright smile. The barkeeper gave us a smile and looked around the tavern room.     "How many brothers do ye have mum," He asked.     "Well lets see," Myrin mumbled. She held up her fingers, mumbling to herself as she counted. "Thirteen, and then we have Gandalf the Grey traveling with us. His wizpopers are simply fantastic!" The man's smile disappeared as his mouth fell open. Before he could do anything, someone yelled at him.     "Da, you're not supposed to be working," A young human boy said. He looked to be twenty, a spitting image of the other barkeeper if he was younger and had more hair. The first pouted and looked at the second.     "But that tavern filled up, so I thought I could take care of these lovely folks," The father said.     "No, you are supposed to be retired Da! If you want to do something, go help Bertha in the kitchen!" The father went into the door to the left behind the counter and the son turned back to Myrin. "Sorry about him, can't find a way to make him sit down and relax. What can I help you two with?"     "Oh I know, that's his Mum," Myrin said, throwing a thumb at me. "We need enough rooms to house my brothers and Gandalf the Grey."     "Oh, he's traveling with you," He asked. Myrin nodded like a little child. "Where are you off to, might I ask?" Myrin smirked and gave a little head twerk to the side.     "Just to the Iron Hills to visit my Mum's family."     "What's the exact count of your little company?"     "Seventeen." He gawked as he handed over the keys. She smiled brightly again as she took them. "Thank You. Sweetheart, while I get everyone settled, can you order the food?" She pulled out a little piece of paper from her inside vest pocket and handed it to the barkeeper. She pecked my cheek and bounced over to the company, who were roaring with laughter. I waited as he got the food. A few minuets later, three girls came out with four platters on their arms, that alone was spectacular. The food on top smelt wonderful. The eldest of the three set down her platter and looked at me.     "Da said that this was four gold coins, and the rooms were another four," She said. With a scowl on my face I dug into my pockets and pulled out eight gold coins. I handed them to her and she deposited them in her apron's pocket. She picked up the platters again as I lead them over to the table. They set them down and left us to our meal. Thorin, Myrin and Oin were missing, I noticed.     "Where's Myrin and everyone," I asked. Bofur chuckled.     "She took sickies up to the room," He said. He grabbed a baked potato and a slice of the bread, dumped them on to his plate and dug in. We ate in silence, or I ate in silence. The rest of the company talked in that language again, leaving me out. Gandalf wasn't very talkative either, so I turned in early. I trudged up the stairs located to the left of the hearth. I pulled out the key that Myrin handed Dwalin, who handed it to me, and shoved it into the keyhole. I walked in and dumped my things on the floor next to the door. Four beds lined the wall on my right, two beds on the left, one on one side of the fireplace, the other on the other side. To the left of the left bed was an open door. I peeked my head in and smirked. Thorin was bundled up in four blankets again, sitting in front of the roaring fire again. Oin was right next to him, sniffling on his own blankets. Myrin was at the fire, pulling a kettle off the fire. Thorin mumbled something, and Myrin yelled at him. He glared at her as she poured what looked to be peppermint tea into a cup. She dumped a few herbs into the cup and handed it to Oin, who gave her a nod of thanks. She poured another cup, dumped more herbs into that cup and glared at Thorin, holding out the cup. Thorin grumbled, but took the cup.     "He really doesn't like tea, does he," I commented. Myrin turned her head, and nodded. Thorin pulled the cup away, sneezed, and sipped it again.     "Thanks for the honey Myrin," Oin said, setting the cup down next to himself. Thorin frowned at him, then glared back at Myrin.     "You gave him honey," he asked, rather annoyed. Myrin gave that head twitch thing again.     "If you didn't cause me so much trouble, maybe you would have gotten some too," She said, leaning up against the table. Thorin grumbled again, followed by a sneeze. Laughter roared just outside the main room's door, so I backed out of the other.     "Holler if any of you need anything," I said as I shut the door. The company burst through the door and deposited their bags on top of mine. Across the hall, Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, and the Ur's took that room, leaving me with the Ri's, and the Devilish Durins. Gandalf peeked into our door as the other slammed shut, and smirked.     "I'll take the other room," He said. The old wizard walked to the right of the door and opened another door on the other side. It shut quietly as I walked over to shut our own doors.     "It seems Myrin has a fancy for ye Hobbit," Nori said. I banged my head against the door.     "It was just an act Nori," Myrin said from her doorway. I whirled around, how did she sneak up?! Myrin turned to me. "I need another set of hands, and everyone else is sniffling." I banged the back of my head against the door again, then followed Myrin into the other room. A very foul smell met my nose the second I passed the threshold. I gagged and pushed my hand up to my nose.     "Erugh, what is that," I mumbled through my arm.     "Bile, Oin can't hold anything down," Myrin said, picking up her pack. "I have to get more firewood, can you hold down the fort?" I looked around. Thorin and Oin were sleeping in two of the four beds, the largest fire I had ever seen in a fireplace was in the hearth, and everything else seemed peaceful, besides the sweltering temperature.     "Sure," I said as I shrugged off my coat. She smiled as she turned towards the door.     "I think I have an herbs chart in my pack by the window," She said as she walked over the rug. "If the men complain, follow the instructions on the chart. I should be back in a few hours." She opened the door and walked out, shutting it softly. I pulled my sleeves up past my elbows and sat down in the chair at the head of the table. Oin moaned in his bed and burrowed further into his blankets.     "Who slammed what," Thorin mumbled from his bed. He rubbed his face and pulled the blankets from his face.     "Myrin's going to get more wood," I said quietly.     "Don't shout," Thorin grumbled. I frowned at him.     "I didn't shout Thorin," I grumbled quietly. I walked over to the window and grabbed Myrin's pack. I flipped the top off and peered in. Vials, bags, pouches, rags, sticks, a few books and a chart were shoved in, and musty smells wafted out, combining with the foul smell from the room. I pulled out the chart and looked it over. I couldn't read it, even if I could, there were scribbles all over the pictures depicting the herbs. I frowned at it, looked up through the window then back to the chart. I set down the pack and put the chart into my back pocket.     "Do you need anything," I asked, grabbing my coat.     "Could you yell any louder hobbit," Thorin growled, louder then I asked. I refrained from snorting and quietly walked to the door. I walked out and frowned. Who would know what this gibberish was, and what the herbs might look like? Gandalf might, so I opened up his door. I slammed it back. He was sitting upright in his chair, his pipe was smoking, but his eyes were open, and I mean wide open. It freaked me out, and it didn't help that he yelled something at me, making his shadow grow again. Who else could help me out? Gloin, he could. I mean, he is Oin's brother, he should know at least a little about herbs, right? I let go of Gandalf's door and opened up the other door. I stepped in and stayed by the door as I searched the room for the healer's brother. He was at the far end, right next to the window. Two beds were shoved together, making Bombur's bed, and three others making the Ri brother's. I had learned that families liked to sleep in a mound, on top of each other. Bofur and Bifur were piled on top of each other, at the foot of Bombur's bed. Dwalin was sitting in the chair, sleeping, Balin taking the last bed. I took a step forward, only to halt as Bombur's eyes flung open. He looked around, eyes crossed, then shut them again, his snores once again joining the others. I took another step towards Gloin, had to hop over Bofur and Bifur, then I was at Gloin's bed. I poked at his rather large stomach.     "Gloin, hey I need some-WHOA!" I ducked as Gloin swung his ax towards me. He yelled out loudly in some sort of gibberish, then everyone was up. I rolled under Gloin's bed, only to have my feet grabbed. Gloin pulled me out of my hiding place and held me in the air.     "What are ye doing hobbit," He growled. "Trying to burgle me?!" I looked up at him, the blood rushing to my head giving me a head-ache.     "Bad choice hobbit," Bombur said. "You tried to burgle the richest alright, but the most protective-"     "No," I yelled. "I just needed some help with this chart Myrin gave me! She had to get more firewood, so she left me in charge of Oin and Thorin-"     "You left them alone," Bofur growled. He adjusted his hat.     "I thought I was only going to be gone for two seconds," I hollered at him. I pulled out the chart and held it out for Gloin to take. He took the chart and let go of my foot, dropping me on my head. My lower back hit the bed frame hard, my legs snapped back and landed on the down mattress. Gloin held the chart in both hands, frowning at it and mumbling. Bofur walked over and looked over Gloin's shoulder.     "Ye said this was Myrin's chart," Gloin asked. I nodded as I righted myself. Gloin tossed the chart at me. "Then I can't help ye hobbit. Riddles, never can decipher them." I looked at the chart in my lap, then up at Bofur.     "Can you translate," I asked. "I'm pretty good at riddles, if I do say so myself." I stood up and held out the chart to Bofur.     "Better not keep Thorin and Oin waiting though," Gloin reminded.     "His tantrum hasn't changed from when he was little," Balin mumbled.     "Let us sleep," Dwalin grumbled from his chair. Bofur smirked and waved his hand at me, motioning for me to follow him outside of the room. I shut the door behind us and turned to Bofur.     "Tantrum," I asked. Bofur shrugged.     "Balrog if I know," He said as he opened up the door. A cold blast met us, turning our attention to the window. Someone had Thorin's throat in their grasp, choking him. Instinct took over, I ran at the person that had Thorin in his choke, made him release Thorin and knocked him out the window. The only problem was that the person grabbed me too, so I fell out of the window with him. He hit the ground first, breaking my fall. That didn't keep me from loosing my senses for a moment. The person took that moment to get up, and walk away. I caught my mind and stood up.     "HOBBIT," Myrin yelled. She dropped her wood and stalked towards me. "What are you doing out here?!"     "You alright Bilbo," Bofur called from above. Myrin looked up and frowned. "Did you catch that villain?"     "No, but I landed on him," I called back. Bofur smiled.     "Good hobbit, OH, 'ello Myrin! We were just trying to decipher your herbs chart." Someone yelled inside, so Bofur poked his head back in. He stuck it back out. "You had better get up here, Thorin's getting.......weird." Myrin growled and looked like she might strangle something. I wiped the mud off my shirt and pants, shook my feet and walked over to where Myrin had dumped the wood. As I picked it up, Myrin walked over and helped out, muttering something under her breath. We finished picking up the wood and walked up to the room. Myrin stalked, I didn't.  Bofur opened up the door and practically pulled us inside. Thorin was laying on his back in front of the fire, moaning softly. Myrin walked over him and set the wood in the cradle, not paying Thorin any mind. Thorin's hand shot out and grabbed her foot.     "Let go Thorin," Myrin said, turning around, lifting her foot up and shaking it.     "Where did you goo," He asked. Myrin growled and tore Thorin's hand off her foot.     "Went to get more wood, what did you take," She growled at him as she crouched down.     "Not suuuure..."     "How many leaves then?"     "Ooooone-" Myrin yelled at him, making his head snap up. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but the way Bofur was flinching, it must of been reprimanding. Thorin stared at Myrin, this goofy weird, honestly scarry grin on his face, then it scrunched up. Myrin stood up, grabbed a pot and shoved it under Thorin right before he threw up. I shut my eyes and plugged my ears. I couldn't handle anyone barfing, or I would. When the muffled sound stopped, I peeked an eye open. Thorin was done, and Myrin was dumping the pot in the toilet. Bofur was helping Thorin to his wobbly feet.     "You gonna spew too," Bofur asked. I shook my head as I dropped my hands. He chuckled as Thorin sat down, burrowing back into the covers. Myrin set the pot next to Thorin's bed and rubbed her hands over her face.     "So what did he eat," I asked. Myrin took off her cloak and sat next to the fire, spurring it back to it's very flamboyant life.     "A little bit of yarrow- Get back to bed you two," She said, waving her hand at the door. Fili and Kili were standing in it, eyes wide and curious.     "Just wondering what that noise was," Kili said.     "You don't want to know, now get out before you catch the flu!" They were out much quicker then what I would have thought. I looked at Myrin.     "So do they really have the flu," I asked. Myrin shook her head and I let out a breath.     "We had some Orc fever run through Ered Luin a few years ago, and Kili got it. It's like the flu, but you loose your mind for a week or so. They don't want to get it again." I raised my brow.     "Are you sure Kili's cured," I asked. Myrin chuckled and stood up from the hearth.  It was roaring twice as large, I could already feel the heat.     "See y'all in the mornin' "Bofur called from the door. Myrin waved him out as he shut the door.     "Go get to bed hobbit, I'm going to need your help tomorrow," She said, waving me away. I frowned at her, but didn't protest. I walked through the door and shut it softly. I sat down on the only free bed and fell asleep instantly.

    Myrin wasn't kidding when she said that she needed my help the next day. Between shoving herbs down Oin and Thorin's throats, eating, getting wood, and picking up after them, I was bone tired when I fell asleep. The next day though, they were better. Today, we were leaving Bree. Myrin had scrubbed the room clean, until it actually started to fall apart. Guess who was elected to help clean, or who was the only one who didn't scamper when she asked for help. I ran the broom over the entire floor, and found a roughly shaped gold colored bead. It wasn't perfectly round, but  you could tell that someone tried their hardest to make it round, and it didn't feel like real gold. I shoved it in my pocket and didn't think anything more of it. We left the inn around three in the after noon, and made our way to the stables. Thorin didn't look quiet right, but I couldn't put my finger on what was different about him. Maybe it was that he was still a little pale from his cold, maybe not... Myrin was frowning at the back of his head. Thorin didn't notice, until she lifted up up a braid.     "Where's your end-bead," She asked. Thorin turned his head and frowned at her, grabbing the braid and running his hand down it. He fingered the end, his eyes becoming wide as he found nothing there. He looked on the ground, then started to stalk towards the inn again. "Hey, where are you off to," Myrin called.     "Did you take out my braids when I got sick," Thorin asked. Myrin shook her head. Thorin growled and looked at the ground again, still walking towards the inn.     "Thorin, might I remind you that we have to get going," Gandalf yelled.     "We can wait just a few more minuets, can't we," Thorin snarled. He turned to Myrin and quickly said something in another language. Myrin turned her face to the ground and started to look too. Myrin looked back up and turned back to me.     "Hobbit, did you find a bead on the floor when you were sweeping," She asked. My hand went to the pocket where I put the bead. I pulled it out and held it out.     "What's so special about a-" Thorin snatched it out of my hand and scowled at me as he twisted his hair into the bead again. "Bead?" Fili frowned at the bead Thorin was putting in his hair.     "Is that the bead I made you when I was little," He asked. Thorin looked at Fili and shrugged. Thorin shoved his way past Fili and continued to the stables. I smiled to myself, glad that I kept the seemingly useless bead.

    A few days later, I couldn't sleep. Between Bombur eating moths when he breathed in, then blowing them out and them still being alive, I was sick to my stomach. I sigh/growled and got out of my bedroll. Fili, Kili and Myrin were leaned up against the small cave's back wall, talking quietly to themselves, laughing every now and then. Thorin, still very grump, and still blaming me for loosing his hair bead, was sitting on a rock just outside the cave, seeming to be sleeping. Balin, who was by far the best of the male dwarves, was sitting on the other side of the cave, whittling away at a rather nice looking piece of maple. Gandalf was blowing smoke rings into the night sky, thinking and mumbling quietly to himself. Lakita, Myrin's griffon friend, was next to Thorin, sleeping. I slowly walked over to the ponies and found Myrtle, the pony I rode the most. I looked back at the sleeping company and after seeing that they weren't looking at me, I gave Myrtle an apple.     "Here you go now, you mustn't tell anyone, this'll be our little secret," I said quietly as she munched on the apple rather loudly. I rubbed her muzzle, wondering how I let myself get to this. Out in the middle of nowhere, in the company of rude dwarves, and talking to a pony like she could understand me. Lakita raised her head, her eyes narrowed not even two seconds before something loud and shrill pierced the night. It chilled my heart and made the ground drop out from under me. I quickly stepped back over to the company, who hadn't woken up. Fili, Kili and Myrin had stopped talking and were looking out at the valley, Myrin was actually standing up, her left hand resting on her hilt.     "What was that," I asked, throwing a thumb back towards the valley. With another shriek echoing through the hills, Kili answered with a very un Kili like solemn face.     "Orcs," He said. I gulped as Thorin sat up and looked around.     "Orcs," I asked. Kili nodded.     "Oh aye," Fili said. "Throat cutters...." I didn't pay any attention to them. Myrin and Thorin were sharing a rather curious look. Thorin nodded quickly and Myrin ran towards Lakita, waking her up. I frowned and shivered as Myrin and Lakita flew away. Thorin stood up as Kili smirked at Fili, who smiled back. Thorin frowned at them with a cold anger I had never seen in him before, even when they dumped a slimy fish down Dwalin's back two days ago.     "You think this funny, a night raid by Orcs a joke," He asked with malice thick in his voice. Their smirks disappeared and they looked at the ground at the same time.     "Sorry Thorin, we didn't mean anything by it," Kili said. Thorin almost growled at them.     "No you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin stalked over to the edge of the camp and looked out over the valley, watching Myrin as she and Lakita flew around the valley. I sat down next to the fire and drew my knees up so I could rest my head on them. Balin stopped whittling and leaned against the cave wall, looking at Fili and Kili.     "Don't worry laddies," he said gently. With a glance at Thorin, he continued, "Thorin has more reason then most to hate Orcs. You see, after Erebor fell, Thror went to see if Moria was able to repopulate, but Orcs, Goblins and Wargs had occupied it. The most vile of the Orcs was Azog the Defiler, a white Gundabad Orc, also known as the Pale Orc. He killed Thror, and in an attempt to avenge his father, Thrain laid siege to the mines. Six long and hard years, we fought the Orcs with might and mind. They matched our steel and strength, and held us at bay. As a final attempt to drive them out, we attacked, but...it ended badly. Thrain was driven mad, leaving us leaderless, and most of us lost hope. The few who didn't, took charge, and lead us through the last battle." A tense silence fell as Balin paused to let that soak in. I glanced at Thorin, wondering just how much he had gone through. I looked back at my feet, then to Balin.     "Who lead you through the battle," I asked. Balin smiled and blinked slowly.     "That would be Thorin, Myrin, Dwalin and Dain, Thorin's cousin," He said quietly. He shook his head and chuckled. "I thought that Thorin might crack under that pressure, leading all the dwarrow through the battle, and then facing Azog, one on one." He shook his head again. "I see now that he was the only one that could lead us, and the only one that could keep the line of Durin safe." Fili looked up and frowned.     "What do you mean keep it safe," He asked.     "Azog had sworn to end the line of Durin, but he learned that day, that they wouldn't be so easily defeated." Balin looked at Thorin, who was staring back, stoic as ever, but I could almost see the tears at the corners of his eyes. Lakita flew over and landed, Myrin shook her head as she got off.     "What happened to him, the Pale Orc," I asked. Thorin growled as he walked over to Myrin.     "He slunk back to the pit whence he came," He growled. "That....Fiend, died from his wounds long ago." Thorin looked around, at everyone who was assembled. Everyone had woken up at one point or another when Balin was telling the story, so all eyes were on Thorin. "Everyone get some sleep, I want to travel at first light." Thorin grabbed his bed roll and set it up next to Fili and Kili, like he normally would. I got up and went back to my own bedroll. Myrin took Thorin's seat on the rock next to the wall, volunteering to take first watch.

[tiredwritersworld]

You’ve Got a Friend In Me

Part 2 of my kind of Harry Potter/The Hobbit crossover about a witch who travels to Middle Earth to find the only family she has left. Part 1 here & Part 2 here 

A week came and passed, Beorn had been very kind to Elsie insisting that she sleep in his bed and she repaid his kindness with games of riddles late into the night, sweet pastries she baked and covered in honey and tales from her world that he found endlessly fascinating. They had become fast friends for which she was extremely grateful. He was a wonderful creature and she didn’t know when she might be able to return home. Musing on this she turned to Beorn who sat with his large feet dangling in the lake at the side of his peaceful home. “You are the first friend I’ve had in such a long time.” 

“As you are to me.” He replied and she smiled almost sadly resting her rather small hand over his. 

“I could accompany you.” He offered not for the first time but he’d told her of how people in his world reacted to his kind and she decided she didn’t want to risk the trouble. 

“No Beorn, I can’t risk anything happening to you. If you’ll have me back though I’ll visit again soon.” She replied and he nodded solemnly in response.  

“Be safe little one, for I shall hold you to that.” 

Elsie wrapped the brown cropped jacket around her as she stood gazing up at the mountain. This was as far as Beorn would follow, in all truth she had lamented his following her this far, he didn’t approve of all of her magic and she fully intended on apparating to the town of Bree where he had advised she begin her quest. He had told her that dwarves often passed through that way and she might gleam some information there. 

It was a days climb before she was sure he had turned back and she stopped on a ledge breathing heavily. She knew it was the lazier way to travel but she hadn’t come all the way to another world to hike halfway across it. The food he’d packed was delicious and she bit into the cinnamon bun he’d told her to save for a particularly cold night. Looking around she decided it was cold enough. Her time with the giant had been wonderful and he reminded her of home, she was determined to keep her promise to return when she learned news of her family. They were kindred spirits he had told her. 

After a short rest and filling her belly she pulled her wand from the sheath on her belt and adjusted the back pack and began to imagine the village of Bree. Beorn had described it well and she imagined the back of The Prancing Pony he’d mentioned, sure that it couldn’t be too different from the front though she daren’t apparate out in the open. She wasn’t entirely sure how this world felt about magic and she wasn’t prepared to risk finding out.  

That familiar feeling washed over her again as she felt her skin stretch and snap back into place when she appeared in the darkness hidden behind a large building. Taking a deep breath she leaned forward against the cool building and stayed that way for a moment as she adjusted to the noise and stench around her. Emerging from the side of the building she found herself in the middle of a bustling street. There were giants everywhere though they were not as tall as Beorn and she smiled fondly at that thought, despite having only seen him the previous day she suddenly found herself very far from his safety and comfort. 

“A weeks walk indeed.” She muttered to herself with a small laugh and fixed her eyes on what looked to be a blacksmith. He was her height and reminded her of her father in his looks so she quickly hurried across the muddy walkway hesitating by a wooden pillar. He brought the hammer down against the blade rhythmically and she watched on silently, thinking he hadn’t noticed her.  

“Come to gawk at the dwarf?” He asked without looking up and her brow furrowed in concern. Had she insulted him?

“No of course not...” At that his head snapped up, his eyes wide in surprised at the sound of her voice, he’d thought her to be a child before he’d seen her.  

“I’m sorry, I just, well I wondered if you could tell me where I am.” She finished and he smiled at the blush on her cheeks. 

“You do not know?” He asked resting the hammer down and she shook her head.

“You’re in the town of Bree. You’re a dwarf.” He pointed out, his gaze returning from her boot clad feet to her face. 

“Well sort of, my father was anyway. Actually I’m looking for some information on some dwarves, would you mind if I asked you some questions?” She asked and he breathed deeply wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm.  

“I will meet with you in The Prancing Pony in an hour. I have work to finish first.” He said pointing just past her shoulder and she turned to see the tavern just as Beorn had described it. 

“Oh ok, well thank you...” She began waiting for a moment until he raised a brow at her clearly not happy to part with his name. “Sir.” She finished and turned back to the tavern feeling his eyes burning into her as she crossed the street and disappeared inside.

Tag List -

@fizzyxcustard @tschrist1 @yes-captainstark

[kumeko]

three square meals

Characters/Pairings: The Fellowship, Eowyn

A/N: written for the @lotr-zine, Twilight and Shadow. I got assigned fluff and tried to include everyone. XD

Summary: Even separated as they were, they all had to eat. Had to rest. Had to laugh.

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Breakfast:

“You were serious about the second breakfast?” Boromir stared at Merry and Pippin as they sat on a rock, divvying up sausages and fruit. They had already made four piles of bread, unpacking whilst everyone else was gathering their belongings. It was a mess and not for the first time he wondered if there was any wisdom in bringing such small, impulsive creatures with them.

 Despite their supposed ages, they looked and acted like children at times. Such as now, with Merry grinning cheerfully and holding out an apple. “Should we set some aside for you too?”

 “No.” Boromir frowned, rubbing his forehead. They had been traveling together for the span of a few days and he had a feeling his headache would be a daily thing. “How many breakfasts do you normally eat?”

 “Four.” Pippin said confidently.

 “Five,” Merry replied just as firmly at the same time and the pair stared at each other.

 After a moment, they chorused together, “Three to five.”

 “That’s…that’s a lot of breakfast.” Boromir glanced at their bellies. They didn’t look portly, like some of the nobles in Gondor did when they’d spent their days feasting and nothing else. Though, he couldn’t say the hobbits were particularly fit either. Merry and Pippin often complained about the hike, asking for breaks on an hourly basis, even if they were soundly rejected every single time.

 Though they did keep walking despite their whining, so maybe they were sturdy at the very least.

 Merry shrugged, returning to spreading jam on a piece of toast. “Not really. It’s normal. What, do you only eat two?”

 “One.” Boromir, crouched, glaring at the pair. He was starting to feel like a baby sitter. “And you need to pack, we’re leaving.”

 “Oh, come on!” Pippin crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks and Boromir could not shake the image of a child out of his head. “We’re setting things so we don’t have to stop for breakfast. We can eat while we walk.”

 “Yeah, do you want to hear our stomachs rumble?” Merry swished a butter knife in the air dramatically. “We’re hiding in a bush, away from the dark lord, and then all of a sudden there’s a loud awrrrrgghhhh because someone wouldn’t let us eat?”

 “We won’t hide,” Boromir stated, his hand on his hilt. Despite all the uncertainties of their travel routes and methods, of that he was positive. “We’ll cut past them.”

 “Sure, you say that now.” Merry snorted. Both hobbits were quickly bundling up their food piles and when had they finished preparing? They were surprisingly sneaky little things; it was no wonder Boromir had never seen one before this day.

 “I’ll say it then too.” Boromir got up, looking toward the sun. Toward home. It would miles yet before they were near Gondor, before he could even dream of Gondor, but they would get there. No matter what the elves or Aragorn had said, he was sure he could convince the group to stop by when they were closer.

 “There. Set.” Pippin leaped off the rock, his bag packed. “See, no trouble at all.”

 “Right.” Boromir laughed as the two hobbits puffed their chests with pride. All this over breakfast. “When I take you to Gondor, you’ll see why one breakfast is more than enough there.”

 Merry furrowed his brow, a challenging smirk on his face. “Do you really think you can satisfy us?”

 “You’ll be rolling home.” He ruffled their hair, ignoring their protests. “It’ll be a feast unlike any you’ve ever seen.”

 -x-

Lunch:

“What is your home like?” Eowyn asked, rolling her shoulders back as she straightened her posture. Long rides were nothing new to her; the horse was almost an extension of her body at times, and she could move him through his paces in her sleep. The problem was the tedious pace, the days upon end where they trotted slowly across the kingdom. It was a long trek to Helm’s Deep and they couldn’t go any faster out of fear of outpacing their walking subjects.

 It did not make it any less tempting to squeeze her thighs and urge her mount into a gallop. The wide fields ahead of them almost seemed to call for her.

 Gimli twisted on his seat uncomfortably, his expression dour. His arms crossed as he failed to find any position he liked, and it spoke of his strength that he didn’t fall of the horse like that. “We do not use horses.”

 He’d been like that for the past hour but she was pretty sure it was the elf sitting in front of him that was the real reason for his discomfort.

 “That’s because you can’t reach high enough to sit on one.” Legolas smirked, glancing over his shoulder at his companion. “Don’t worry, the ground won’t be too far when you fall.”

 “When?” Miffed, Gimli’s hand curled around his axe for what had to be the tenth time this morning.

 Eowyn failed to suppress her chuckle in time and Gimli turned his glare to her. With a placating smile, she patted her horse’s neck. “They aren’t too bad, when you get used to them.”

 “If you say so, lass.” Gimli still frowned, looking entirely put out.

 “Why don’t we give him a dog; the ponies the hobbits have might be too big for him,” Legolas suggested, and she wasn’t sure at this point if he actually meant half his insults or he said them only to get a rise out of his comrade.

 Either way, it always ended the same way, with the pair glaring at each other. Bloodshed seemed almost unavoidable now and she glanced at Aragon hopefully. When he merely shrugged, unfazed by the threatening atmosphere, she bit back a sigh. It fell to her then. Tapping her chin, she tried to find a neutral topic. It was close to lunch and her stomach grumbled softly. “What is food like in Erebor? You said something about a feast.”

 “Aye!” Finally, Gimli grinned, wide and full of teeth. He puffed his chest proudly. “Come under the mountain, and you’ll see a dwarven feast. Piles of meat, all cooked to perfection. Goblets of overflowing wine. Nothing is lacking.”

 “Burnt food,” Legolas listed off, counting his fingers. Somehow, even that simple movement looked more graceful than anything Eowyn had done in her life. “Sour wine. Lack of vegetables. No wonder you’re always in a foul mood.”

 “And you’re a bloody rabbit,” Gimli shot back, leaning back to look up at the elf. Some miracle kept him on his seat; any further and he would fall. “All leaves and grapes and your meat’s undercooked.”

 “Or maybe you just don’t know what proper cooking is.” Legolas raised a brow, looking over his shoulder. “You know it isn’t supposed to be black. Even charcoal has move flavour.”

 “You…” Gimli growled, setting off a tirade of proper fire techniques and maybe food wasn’t as safe a topic as Eowyn had hoped. To be honest, maybe nothing was—she had a feeling that even a discussion about the sky would somehow end up in an argument.

 At least it was entertaining.

 “You got them started,” Aragon sighed as he urged his horse next to her, clearly used to the argument. He clicked his tongue as the pair squabbled. “It’ll be hours before they shut up. Even then, only for a few minutes.”

 The amused smile on his face said otherwise. There was a wild rush at seeing that, like racing her horse across the plain, like winning her first sword fight. She looked away. “And what about you, my lord? How do your people eat?”

 “…nothing to talk about,” Aragon admitted slowly. A hand rubbed his neck slowly as he considered the question. “We live in the wilds, so it’s just wild game and herbs. We’re not really known for our cooking.”

 And what are you known for? she wanted to ask. A king who was not king, a man who lived freer than she ever had. Even with her uncle safe, with her brother back, she felt just as trapped as she did back in that cold castle with Wormtongue leering at her. But the words were caught in her throat and she tightened her grip on the reins. “Neither are mine, we spend too much time in the saddle. Oh, but my mother, her stew was delicious.”

 “Stew?” Gimli tuned back into the conversation, interested once more. He leaned toward her and there had to be something supernatural that was keeping him on his seat. “Would that be a meat stew, lass?”

 “Of course.” She brushed a stray hair behind her ear nervously, before blurting out. “I’ll make you some for lunch.”

 Gimli looked delighted and though she wouldn’t look, she hoped Aragon was maybe half as interested.

 -x-

Dinner:

“Keep your hands from the pot!” Sam ordered, slapping Faramir’s hands before they could touch the ladle. The sound echoed in the night air, drowning out the crackle of the fire. “It’s not ready yet.”

 Faramir blinked. It was rare that anyone treated him with such familiarity. Even out here, in the marsh lands, he was still considered a lord, a de facto prince, since few believed the king would return. “I was merely going to stir it.”

 “Oh.” Sam coloured, embarrassed. He twisted his hands nervously. “No offense meant, sire. Just that…well, my friends, they’d often steal bites while I cooked and I…old habits.” He offered a timid smile.

 It was interesting to observe Sam. One moment fierce and protective, the next self-depreciating. Faramir could see a little of himself in the hobbit. “It’s fine.” He sat next to Frodo, who watched the affair with a tired smile. “Are you one of those friends?”

 The hobbit looked exhausted, almost as dead as the land they threaded, but at this a small flush of colour returned to his skin. With a mischievous grin, he confessed conspiratorially, “When he wasn’t looking.”

 “What?” Sam dropped the ladle, staring at him in surprise. A hand reached up, clutching his chest. “I could understand Merry and Pippin. But you too?”

 Looking entirely unapologetic, Frodo shrugged. “Well, I was hungry.”

 “Frodo Baggins!” Sam frowned, disappointed. Sternly, he pulled the ladle closer to him as though some mysterious had would steal it away. “Well, not this time.”

 “Of course not,” Frodo blinked innocently, a beguiling smile on his face. He clasped his hands in front of him, looking troubled by the very thought. “Your stew is safe.”

 Not buying it, Sam shook his head with a distrusting scowl. Lifting the ladle, he took a small sip and rolled the liquid around his mouth. He reached into his pouch, pulled out a pinch of some mysterious powder, and tossed it in. “Ok, this should do.” He grabbed a bowl and poured a spoonful of a steaming hot broth inside. “For you, sire.”

 Faramir took the bowl and inhaled. While it largely smelled like any other rabbit stew, a few unfamiliar herbs flooded his senses. Whatever they were, it was a pleasant scent. “Smells good.”

 “Thank you. Made it just like my gaffer did, a family recipe.” Sam smiled proudly, his hands on his hips. His smile dropped as he swivelled his head over to Frodo and squinted at him for a long moment. Grabbing a second bowl, he mused, “I think I’ll give this to Gollum first.”

 Aghast, Frodo stood up in horror. Clearly, he had not considered the consequences of his admission. “No!”

 “Yes!” Considering how much Sam hated the creature, this was clearly a sore point. With a sniff, he filled the bowl to the brim. “And then maybe for Faramir’s men and if anything is left over, then you.”

 Faramir cracked a smile. “I doubt there is enough in there for all of my men.”

 Sam pursed his lips disapprovingly. He stirred the pot three times, considering it, before conceding. “Fine. But Gollum first and then you. And if you steal a spoonful, that will be your last spoonful.”

 Looking contrite, Frodo nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I won’t touch anything.”

 “I’ll watch him,” Faramir offered, chuckling as Sam trotted away in a huff. Meals with his brother used to be like this, warm and full of conversation.

 Boromir. His eyes lowered, staring at the bowl in his hands. His brother, dead. His brother, gone. It was a strange thought, to know that his brother would never return to him, would never again stride through the halls with a laugh and a hearty wave.

 “Faramir?” Frodo cocked his head, looking up at him in concern. He crouched next to Faramir, his hands on his knees. “Is something the matter?”

 Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he stirred his bowl. “It’s nothing.” He took a small sip and his lips parted in surprise at the warm broth. It seemed Sam wasn’t all talk. “It’s delicious.”

 “He’s a good cook.” Frodo sat, hugging his knees. Staring at the fire, he commented softly, “I don’t think I would have made it this far without him.”

 Ah. The hobbits really did remind Faramir of himself. He had seen that exact look before in the mirror, while thinking of Boromir. “He’s a good companion.”

 “More than he realizes.” Frodo added with a quiet smile. His fingers played with the folds of his pants. “He’s my best friend.”

 His brother was his best friend too. No, Boromir had been his best friend. A dull ache came at the correction, at the realization that he had a lifetime of it. Faramir took another sip, the liquid carving a hot path down his throat. “Did my brother ever tell you about Gondor?”

 “Yes, he wanted us to come.” Frodo nodded, chuckling. He glanced at Faramir. “He told us about your feasts. He said you’d have to roll us home after breakfast.”

 Faramir shook his head. That sounded exactly like Boromir. Always terribly proud of Gondor, even in the smallest of matters. “I’m sure he made us sound grander than we are.” He looked at the bowl in his hands, warmer than any meal he’d had in Gondor since his brother left. If a trace of this could return to the halls, perhaps his father could change.

 Perhaps they could all change and become the Gondor his brother was proud of once more.

 “It might not be as filling, but I’ll make breakfast tomorrow,” Faramir offered.

 “Really?” Frodo snapped his head to stare at him, excitement crossing his face. “Ohh…Merry and Pippin will be jealous.”

 Faramir could almost hear his brother’s guffaw.