#that’s the land of her ancestors. she catches ants that try and get through the window and up the sink

[raan-miir-tah]

There was a spider trying to live in the cutlery drawer and babygirl you are beautiful but you do realize how terrible this location is to raise your family, correct?? It moves. It’s dark and there’s no bugs to catch. There’s hands all the time. Big metal objects get shoved around in there. Sorry my love your ass is evicted please find a good place to live in the outside of the home

[julie-su]

VOTE HERE!

Zara-Ra, who is entered into the @sonic-oc-showdown ! I saw the rest of the bumblefolks filling out this OC Q&A that dear @bunnymajo had brought to our attention - and I had to have a go ~

"Zara-Ra has Guardian blood flowing in their veins. Due to her granddfather Knuckles being subjected to a great dose of Chaos Energy in his egg many years prior, Zara-Ra has heightened chaos powers, worked through their lineage. With training from their mother, Lara-Su, they were able to get a small ammount of it under her control. Their name, which they chose for themself, is inspired by her ancestor, Sonji-Ra, who had transitioned in the same sense that Zara-Ra had."

Zara-Ra's Page on Toyhou.se

Q&A under the cut -

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name? … Don’t laugh — I was lounging on the setee at my parents’ place, rolling names around in my head. My eldest sister was catching up on our favourite Soap Opera, BBC Doctors (.. No, not Doctor Who.) and lo and behold.. The character Zara Carmichael is the focus of this episode, I believe it’s about a resort, but I don’t much remember. Zara.. Zara-Ra. It just sort of, stuck. … I cannot stand Zara Carmichael.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range) Zara-Ra is the same age as me - 23! And soon, he might be 24.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)? My partner’s character, Tara-Ka, was made at the same time for us to roleplay together - of course they are madly, deeply in love! -Cheesy- They live together in a small apartment in Echidnaopolis. They are deeply, madly in love!

🍕 - What is their favorite food? … Mobini Ants. Though, he’ll substitute for raisins. And grapes! Archimedes is alarmed; he’s told it’s only mobini ants, but he remembers the first time he met Zara’s grandfather.

💼 - What do they do for a living? Nothing; money doesn’t exist! Hey— HEY! WHAT’S ESPIO DOING WITH THOSE QUARTERS?! AIIIEEE!! … Zara-Ra is the current backup Guardian, though, it’s .. Unclear if he’s doing a good job. -thinks about Dark Mobius, sweats- I’m sure it’ll be FIIIIINE. Other than that, she keeps The Chaotix alive with Tara-Ka; Tara-Ka’s life-long obsession has always been the tales of the Chaotix. It was pure coincidence that their life partner would happen to be within such close proximity!

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies? Ant farmer… NO. I’M KIDDING! Zara-Ra has an extensive secret model city under the floorboards of her and Ed’s childhood bedroom, named ‘OuiOui Land’ - full of thousands of delicate models. He may not live there anymore, but he’s always in the area… They wonder what he’s doing all of the time. It’s OuiOui Land.

🎯 -What do they do best? He’s … Kind of a Rich Failson, without the ‘Rich’ part. A nepotism baby. Not for lack of trying - he was supposed to become the one to become a guardian, only to get cold feet. Ed tried to lead by example to encourage him, only to be lifted up as a ‘better choice’. The thing Zara-Ra does best, is… Be himself. He’s not disappointed in the missed oppertunities, and he’s happy that he is exactly where he needs to be.

He CAN do it all as Enerjak, where he's unimpeded by his thoughts and feelings - but he also… Well, loses everything that makes him… Him! He becomes this soulless machine line of output; all it really does is burn through his power and energy. And suddenly, everybody close to him realises that 'sometimes' being able to reach his full potential, is better than her reaching full potential all of the time - in the short bursts, he covers more ground than most others could do in the same time he spent sat around doing nothing. It's kind of frustrating for him sometimes when it comes in bursts like that, because it can be really close to the line… But after coming down from power like that, he realises that he just works differently to others.. And that's okay!

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do? Zara-Ra’s absolute favourite thing in this world is any important outing that is done either alongside his brother, Ed, or alongside his partner, Tara-Ka. Ed will often take him out on excursions to do with protecting the island, whilst Tara-Ka will bring him along for any odd job that they can find under The Chaotix. As long as he’s got a purpose and a clear instruction, he’s having the time of his life.He hates any job that he has to do on his lonesome. He is not a leader-type, and cannot take charge. He over-stresses over every minute detail, ending up in an internal stalemate for even the simplest of tasks.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories? Meeting Tara-Ka. They met on the outskirts of New Albion; Zara-Ra was out scouring for leads; they had heard it from the grapevine that the Dark Presence was still in operation on the outskirts of the city, deep into the desert. Here, he ran into one lonesome Tara-Ka - an echidna with such cybernetic enhancements that had not been seen for decades. Sure, cosmetic and medical cybernetics had been adopted by the masses - but these were cybernetics built for violence.… Tara-Ka was a runaway from a branch of the Dark Presence deep in the desert, and -all- they wanted to know was… “Can you take me to The Chaotix? They’re all I’ve ever dreamed of meeting”.How could you not oblige?! They’re the buggers who had sent him out here in the first place!

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories? Becoming posessed by Enerjak… It was incredibly traumatic; though, he did not get violent; he had his mothers’ knack for resisting the dark whispers. He did, however, forfeit all emotions; the unlocking of ultimate power had driven it all out. What hurts the most, is that many people felt that this beast of apathy and pure drone work ethic is much prefferable to his usual state.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one? Nohoho. Zara-Ra’s first design is waaay different! For starters, he wasn’t even originally a guardian! Yes, he wasn’t created as Lara-Su and Argyle’s child.. That came later! I was on a long coach trip with a lot of paper, and no plug for my laptop.. Go figure.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC? Archie Sonic.. I wanted an Archie echidna! I played around for a while, making an avatar in this game, hot pink… And I sort of, fell in love. His first iteration was of a zonehopper, to fit in with the game; but as he outgrew it, I worked him more and more into the Archie Sonic comics lore.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in? Probably.. Dark Comedy. Yup. That happens to be the tone of just about every single piece of prose that contains Zara-Ra!

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality? There are not enough words in any spoken or written language, alive or dead, to even begin to explain Zara-Ra’s connection to gender and sexuality. For whom it concerns… Zara-Ra was born ‘Jamie-Su’. He’s on testosterone, and has had top surgery; he has little tufts of sticky-uppy fur on either side of his chest. The planning to keep his guardian crest intact was a -nightmare-. This has -nothing- to do with gender identity, really; it’s moreso a medical history. But it felt as if it were fitting to put ^^

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have? Just the one - Edmund II! Yes, -that- Edmund II. .. Why are you looking at me like that?! You know Ed! You don’t?! He’s that old codger from the Archie Sonic arc, Silver Saga - issues #25 to #28; son of Lara-Su and Argyle (well - if you read between the lines!)

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like? Zara-Ra has an incredible relationship with her parents. The only point of contemption is Zara’s ant addiction. “It’s normal, we’re echidnas!” — “THAT IS NOT NORMAL!”

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC? Swag :3… I love the way he dresses, the way I style his hair -he’s based on me, down to the same glasses, to the little stupid puffer body jackets I wear. Bangles… I love making him wear outfits I do. Big baggy tripp/parachute pants… My self-insert, Puggle, also scratches this itch. I did, at one point, have my hair hot pink with black raccoon-tail stripes down the side, just like Zara :P

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC? It’s got to be daily, at this point. If I’m not drawing, I’m roleplaying, or crafting the narrative! If you told me that I have one drawing for every day of the year, I would laugh, and wonder why it wasn’t two for every day XD

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC? …. I hope not! O_O it would get awful boring around here!In all seriousness.. There is the fact that dear old Ed seems to be quite on his own, as the sole echidna.. Eeeee. Not lookin’ good for ole’ Zra.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias? He’s terrified of forgetting things; he wakes up in a sweat in the middle of the night, after an in-depth dream where he had forgotten that his own brother had passed away, asking where he is. He sits up, now awake, and calls his brother; sighing in relief. It was all a dream… He wonders if he ever would forget something like that. It gnaws at his mind.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival? Antoine. He knows what he did. Old Bastard.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC? … I’ve lost track!

[itallstartedwithplayingvet]

Whumptober Day 22 - Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? - Poisoned/Drugged

Fandom: Original

Characters: Dune the scorpion (OC), Bristle the tarantula (OC), Droplet the frog (OC)

Content Warnings: Venom, paralysis, lady whump (though not of a human woman), bugs, spiders

Word Count: 1,342

“I’m not going to miss this place.”

Dune felt herself crack a smile at Bristle’s comment. “You know, the desert really isn’t so bad once you get used to it.” She called back to him.

He scoffed. “You only say that because you were born here! I’m from the rainforest! I need moisture in the air, for Arachne’s sake!”

“Ugh, remind me not to visit once we find you a new home.” Dune teased. “All that mist sounds unbearable.”

“Oh, but you must visit!” Bristle replied. “Droplet would miss you...and well, I wouldn’t be too happy in your absence, either.”

“I’m not going to travel all the way to the rainforest for your pet frog, Bristle.” 

“Why not? I’d do anything for her, and she’d do anything for me. Right, cutie?”

Dune rolled her eyes as she picked up on the sounds of Bristle affectionately doting upon his little frog companion from behind her. She found the concept of keeping an animal for reasons other than getting food or a service from it to be rather pointless. She knew that long ago, the ancestors of rainforest-dwelling tarantulas had kept frogs in their burrows as a form of pest control, to protect their eggs from ant raiders. But selective breeding had seen those frogs reduced to a quarter of their former size in order to serve as companions for tarantulas without eggs to protect, and now they weren’t much help at all. Really, what was the point? To keep from getting lonely? Loneliness was something meant for displaced eusocialites...not for loner folk like scorpions or spiders. 

Her thoughts were broken by the piercing cries of Bristle’s frog. “Will you shut that---” As Dune turned to face him, however, she was met not with the sight of Bristle trying to soothe his nervous pet, but rather, with the sight of something large and black lurking in the shadows just behind him. When she caught the flash of an orange wing, she knew with a dreadful certainty just what it was. “BEHIND YOU!”

The words had barely left her when the stalking creature moved with terrifying speed and latched onto her companion. She saw the silhouette of a massive, needle-like stinger poised underneath him for only a fraction of a second...and then, it was plunged into his flesh.

Bristle gasped in a mixture of surprise and pain. Then, his face began to contort into all manner of agonized expressions as the creature’s venom entered his blood. His final expression was a pleading gaze fixed on Dune...and all in the span of mere seconds, before Dune even had time to react, he was suddenly screaming so fiercely that she could see his fangs in their entirety. 

The creature that had stung him soon withdrew its stinger with great force, and stepping away from its victim, the creature stood upright in the manner of Insectfolk -- two legs, four arms. It was pitch black in color, yet some small patches of its body shone a vibrant blue in the last remaining glimmers of sunlight.

By Selket... Dune, in fact, knew of this creature. It was the bane of desert-dwelling Arachne-Kin---the Tarantula Hawk. A sub-species of wasp, they were very particular about their breeding habits, and over thousands of years had not strayed from the instinct to paralyze large folk---usually tarantulas---so that their young might feast on their still-living bodies when they hatch. It was a gruesome habit, and Dune had seen the aftermath of such a method before during her travels in the desert, the lifeless husks of tarantulas much like Bristle, bearing a single entrance and exit wound where the young of the Tarantula Hawk had feasted upon their innards, and then left after having their fill.

Her mind flooded with the sounds of Bristle’s agonized wails and the thought of him as just another hollowed-out corpse in the sand...and it motivated her to do something rather foolish.

Dune raced towards the Hawk with a cry of rage, her own stinger poised to strike and fill the parasite with deadly venom. As she struck, however, the Hawk leapt to the side, sparing her body, but catching her wing upon Dune’s stinger, which promptly tore quite thoroughly.

The Hawk glanced at her torn wing in surprise, and then turned to Dune in fury. “You should have stayed out of this, scorpion.” She hissed. “Before you interfered, I was only going to take him.”

“I won’t let my friend be subjected to such a gruesome fate.” Dune snapped back. “He’s a good tarantula. He doesn’t deserve--”

The Hawk laughed at her. “Of course he doesn’t! No one deserves it! This is instinct, scorpion, nothing more. We can’t change our nature any more than you can stop your tail from brewing toxins!”

“I’m still not letting you take him. If you want this tarantula, you’ll have to kill me!” Dune stepped in front of Bristle’s still-screaming body, shielding him with her body. A single glance back at him would tell her that the paralytic component in the Hawk’s venom was already taking hold of him. His limbs were stiffening up, curling towards his body as though he were in the final throes of death. There was no time now to comfort him. The venom wouldn’t kill him, at least. It wasn’t meant to do that.

“...Your dedication to your friend is admirable.” The Hawk mused. Dune thought she detected a hint of sorrow to her voice. “...But I’m afraid I still need him. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

In the next instant, the Hawk darted towards her, stinger poised to sink into her abdomen. But Dune was ready. She swung at the Hawk with one solid claw, knocking her to the ground. She didn’t wait for the Hawk to get up, before turning back to Bristle and attempting to drag him away.

“Easy, easy.” She spoke gently to him, trying to ease his terror. “You’ll live. The pain won’t last for much longer, and I’ll find someone to help you.” 

As she spoke to him, though, she saw his eyes focus on something directly behind her. Dune felt the Hawk’s spiked limbs seize her from behind and yank her away from Bristle. She thrashed and thrust wildly with her stinger, desperate to break free. At last, she slammed her head into something beneath her---the Hawk’s head. Reflexively, she released Dune, who scrambled away to recover, before tackling the Hawk.

The pair rolled down the side of a dune, locked together in combat. They landed with Dune pinning the Hawk to the ground, her stinger poised to execute the meddling wasp. “Now you will know why they call my people Deathstalker.” Dune, enraged, plunged her stinger into the Hawk’s thorax. The Hawk cried out---and plunged her own stinger into the underside of Dune’s abdomen. Dune echoed her cry.

For a moment, the pair of combatants remained still, each pumping their own mixture of venom into the other. The Hawk could not say another word to her enemy before Dune’s venom sent her into a fit of violent convulsions. Meanwhile, Dune wrenched her stinger from the Hawk’s body, and staggered a short distance away, before the rapidly spreading pain of the Hawk’s sting made her collapse. 

Dune convulsed as the Hawk’s venom coursed through her veins. In an instant, she was consumed by the sensation of being struck by lightning---over, and over, and over again. She felt as though her body had been lit ablaze from the inside. Though she feared attracting other opportunistic hunters to her location, Dune could not resist the urge to scream. And scream she did, sinking her claws into the sand and letting out a desperate wail that echoed across the barren desert. In her last remaining moments of lucidity, she screamed the name of Bristle’s pet.

“Droplet! If you can understand me at all, PLEASE find someone who can help us!”

Atop the dune, perched by her master’s side, was the faithful little frog called Droplet...quivering with terror from head to toe.

[d3-iseefire]

Princess of Shadow

Note: So apparently I can’t do a writing prompt without it turning into a full fledged story SO I decided to just give in and write a full fledged story! Yay! Here is Chapter One! :D

Summary: Bilba Baggins, Crown Princess of Erebor, knew the stories well. How her wandering ancestors, desiring a home, had tricked the King of Erebor and stolen his throne. It wasn’t a particularly nice story but, according to the legends, the old king had been a brute anyway so Bilba never particularly minded.

King Durin had reportedly vowed to one day return and reclaim the mountain but, as the years passed the threat became little more than legend.

Legend, until the day they weren’t.

Now declared a threat to the stability of the throne and the new king who sits upon it, BIlba is given an ultimatum. She can marry her sworn enemy and bear him heirs to strengthen the Durin line, or be executed to remove the threat she presents by simply existing.

The choice is hers.

Extra Note: For the purposes of this story hobbits and dwarves have the same lifespan, cause it’s my story and I say so. :P :D :D

Princess of Shadow Master Chapter List: https://d3-iseefire.tumblr.com/post/187613581372/princess-of-shadow-master-list

Link to my other works on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/works

Bilba Baggins’ life as she knew it was turned upside down on a bright, sunny morning in late fall. Usually, Bilba longed for such mornings. Winters were frigid in Erebor and often left her, and the rest of the mountain’s inhabitants snowbound for months on end. It often made her wonder just what had possessed her ancestors to target the land for their own, especially when those hobbits who’d chosen to continue wandering had sent word of the Shire’s discovery less than two years later. Deep down, she had a suspicion that the decision to stay came more from stubbornness and pride than any genuine love for the mountain’s bruising stone or its constant, biting cold. Better to suffer in a stolen mountain than admit they might have been wrong to take it in the first place. In any event, Bilba loved those rare, sunny days that arrived less and less as the year ticked on toward winter. They were a reminder of what she’d enjoyed during the summer, and a promise of what awaited her on the far side of the harsh months that lay ahead. On such days she always did her best to stay outside as long as possible, visiting her best friend in Dale or simply wandering the hills around the mountain. There was no chance of her doing either activity today.

She’d been trapped inside for weeks now, so long that the urge to leave had slowly shriveled into apathy edged with despair.

She stayed in bed for several long minutes after awakening, perfectly still and with her eyes fixed on the underside of her canopy. She had nowhere to be anymore, and nothing to do so the impetus to get up in the morning had long since fled. As the days had crawled by she’d begun to crave sleep. It allowed her to forget, if ever so briefly, the way her stomach was perpetually tied into knots, or the increasingly dead look in the eyes of those wandering the halls of the mountain.

They all knew what was coming. It was no longer a question of if, but when.

She found the will to move finally and forced herself to sit up, She pushed the blankets back, shivered at the bite in the air, and carefully stood. Her feet slid into the plush rug her bed sat on and she took a second to dig her toes in and relish the warmth under her soles.

Her thin nightgown swirled about her legs and she snagged the matching robe off a nearby chair. As she slid it on and cinched the belt she reflected on the fact that it had been intended as part of her wedding trousseau and, had things gone differently, she’d be wearing it for her husband now instead of an empty room.

A shudder not born from the cold washed over her and acid churned uncomfortably in her gut at that particular thought.

Her intended, Lord Grima, was a nobleman of some note in Gondor, and loosely related to the throne. He was also at least four decades older than her. Despite her pleas, Bilba’s grandfather had accepted his offer of marriage in return for a promise that Grima would try to bend the king of Gondor toward an alliance with Erebor. 

It was an alliance her grandfather had long desired, but which had long been denied for reason Bilba didn’t entirely understand. Gerontius Took firmly believed politics and the like to be the realm of men and it was rare Bilba had any idea of what was going on with her grandfather or his councilors.

Not that any of that stopped her grandfather from attempting to sell her off like a trinket at market. Grima had visited a few times to view his purchase, and his leering gaze and wandering hands had made her physically ill.

She was supposed if there were any silver lining to be found in their current circumstances, it was that at least she no longer had to worry about him. Still, had it come down to her marrying Grima, or watching her people suffer as they now were...she’d have chosen the marriage. As awful and miserable as she knew it would have been, if her marriage could have spared her people she’d have gone to it, and gladly.

Well, maybe not gladly, but she’d have gone.

A light knock came on her door and, at her quiet word, it opened to admit her maid, one of the few women in the mountain with a smaller stature than Bilba, which was saying something. In the past, Josie had always dressed more like a Lady in Waiting than a maid, with her blonde hair curled and piled high and her gowns bright and eye-catching.

She’d had a dream, she’d confided once, of catching the eye of a nobleman willing to overlook her class and marry her. A fairy-tale come true she’d said, eyes sparkling with excitement, and hands clasped before her. Bilba had quite agreed and had done her best to steer the other women toward the kinder noblemen, while simultaneously extolling her virtues to them every chance she got.

None of that excited, hopeful girl was evident now in the quiet woman who entered the room. Josie’s hair was in a knot at the back of her head and her gown was homespun and simple. The bounce that was normally present in her step was gone, and her eyes were dull and lifeless.

As if the sight triggered something deep inside, Bilba’s feet began to move almost on their own toward the two large doors that led onto her balcony. Dawn tinted sunlight streamed through the large panes of glass set in the wood frame, casting a reddish orange hue over her room. In the past she’d loved it when it looked like this.

Now all she could think of when she saw it was blood.

“Your Highness,” Josie said, hesitant, from behind her. “Perhaps it’d be best if you didn’t go out there. It’s not safe.”

Bilba’s heart began to hammer in her chest as she curled her hand around the handle of the door and, in one smooth motion, yanked it open before she could talk herself out of it.

It was deceptively quiet, just the rush of air about the mountain and the faint, raucous sound of ravens that like to roost among the rocks. Her balcony was enormous, dug from the side of the mountain itself and sporting a rock ledge that rose from the edges to nearly her waist.

It was a masterwork of engineering, and one of the few still usable in the mountain. Hobbits were not gifted in the art of stonework, and lacked the necessary skills or knowledge to learn. There were entire sections of Erebor now that were considered unstable and were closed off to the public.

It was quite possible that, had things been allowed to progress naturally, they would have had to leave Erebor in another hundred years or so as it would have simply become to dangerous to continue living there.

Not that any of that mattered now.

Bilba shuffled out slowly onto the balcony, shivering as the cold air bit through her clothes. Now that she was out she could hear it, the faintest clamor from far below, of voices, tack and equipment as bodies awakened and readied themselves for the day.

She let out a slow breath and then, resigned, made her way to the edge. She already knew what she’d see, but held out the irrational hope that once, just once, she’d look down and be wrong.

That her eyes would look out over an empty plain, stretching back serenely toward Dale and farther still until it reached the borders of Mirkwood. That the only movement would be a light breeze dancing through the grass and rustling the branches of trees. That, in the distance, she’d catch sight of the Men of Dale ratcheting open the gates as they readied for a day of brisk trade between their merchants and those of Erebor.

It was a sight that had greeted her daily for most of her twenty years. It was a sight that she’d often considered boring, her restless soul yearning for adventure and excitement beyond the daily, repetitive grind.

It was a sight she’d given anything to see again.

The gates of Dale were shut, as they had been for over a month now, and if there was a breeze dancing in the grass she couldn’t see it.

Instead all she could see was an army. It filled the plain below, swelled against the walls of Dale and muddled the borders of Mirkwood. Row upon row of soldiers, horses, and siege weapons. From the height she was at, they looked like little more than ants milling about the landscape, but Bilba knew they were anything but.

The dwarves, as it turned out, were not willing to wait another hundred years to reclaim Erebor. They wanted it back now and, given how things had been going of late, they would soon get it.

Bilba’s eyes drifted toward the largest tents in the center of the camp, and her heart twisted at the sight of the banners proudly proclaiming their owners. She would never understand. Lady Sigrid was her best friend. She’d spent hours in their home, considered Lord Bard as a surrogate father of sorts. Mirkwood she’d spent less time in but, even so, she was still on a first name basis with Legolas, had attended dances and banquets in both their honor and her own.

She’d thought they were friends, and yet here were the banners of both fluttering alongside that of the dwarves, proudly announcing their allegiance.

The pain of the betrayal cut deep, and even now blurred her vision. Apparently, they hadn’t been as close as she’d once believed. All the while they’d laughed and smiled, invited her into their homes and lives, they’d been plotting behind her and her grandfather’s back. Planning, smiling to her face while simultaneously sneaking around to drive a blade into her back.

It hurt, and it was humiliating. She’d believed them. She’d really, honestly, thought they were her friends. She could just imagine how they must have laughed at her behind her back, mocked her...

Bilba drew in a sharp breath. Her nose burned and she scowled as tears began to track down her face. She needed to get that under control. The writing was on the wall, and the last thing she wanted was to break down in front of them later. It was bad enough that they’d hurt her. She didn’t want to let them see it, and hear their mocking laughter in return. 

“Your Highness?” Josie’s voice came from right over her shoulder. “Perhaps we should go back inside. You’ll catch a cold standing out here.”

Bilba set her shoulders back, and nodded stiffly. “You’re right of course.” She pasted a shaky smile on her face, and turned to face the other girl. “Let’s go.”

Josie nodded and turned to go back in. As she did, Bilba couldn’t help a final look over her shoulder, down to what had become a battlefield far below. Her eyes caught on one tent in particular, the largest in the dead center of the camp.

There she knew she would find the source of all of Erebor’s problems. A bloodline her grandfather believed gone, died out and lost generations ago. A line descended from the evil brute her ancestors had described, and undoubtedly still just as brutish.

A pox on them, Bilba thought bitterly, as anger overcame her. If it weren’t for them none of this would be happening. She clenched her jaw and, with an angry motion, jerked around to follow Josie inside.

As she slammed the doors shut with slightly more force than necessary she found herself wishing fervently and passionately that the Valar would send a bolt of lightning and strike the entire line dead where they stood.

Damn the line of Durin, and all those who supported them.

                                                     ***

Frerin shoved back the flap of his tent and strode out into the open. Brisk, cool air wrapped around him and he relaxed into it. He raised his arms over his head and stretched, nearly groaning in pleasure as his various joints and vertebrae popped and snapped themselves back into position.

There was just nothing positive about sleeping in a tent, regardless of the furs and food and whatever else put in to try and convince him otherwise. The cots were always too small and too hard, and the air quickly became stuffy and overbearing.

He always woke up stiff, sore and drenched in sweat, and with a renewed gratitude for his quarters in Ered Luin. Small and cramped they might be but, compared to a tent, they might as well have been the lap of luxury.

Giggling drew his attention to a pair of human, female archers passing by. He hadn’t thought much about seeing women when he’d chosen to walk out in nothing but his trousers. Females in dwarven society weren’t allowed to fight. They were so rare as it was that risking what few there were in battle would be idiotic.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively at the two archers, and smirked. The women immediately went beet red and scurried off, laughter ringing out behind them.

Frerin chuckled. He could get used to having women on the battlefield he decied as he ducked back inside his tent. When he emerged a few minutes later he was properly dressed and had pulled his boots on. He’d opted for a leather cuirass instead of full armor, and had simply belted on his sword rather than spend time arming himself with the various blades he liked to carry. 

He made his way toward the large pavilion set up several tents away. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Thorin already there, pouring over a map laid out on the table before him as if it held all the answers in the world.

“Planning our next battle plan?” he asked in amusement.

Thorin paused long enough to glare at him before resuming his study of the map. They both knew there wouldn’t be another battle plan. The last fight had been over a week earlier, and it had been the last. The hobbits had barely been able to muster a force of thirty, and less than half of them had made it back inside the mountain.

The hobbits had shut and barred the gates behind them, while the forces outside had surrounded the mountain.

It was no longer a fight. It was a siege, the outcome all but guaranteed. The only thing question now was --

“How much longer?” he asked as he approached the table.

Thorin raised his head, eyes directed toward the mountain that loomed over their encampment. He’d been hesitant to use the trebuchets and, in the end, the decision had proven to be a good one. The hobbits seemed to have no siege weapons of their own and, in Thorin refusing to use the ones at his disposal, they’d avoided unnecessary damage to their future home.

The last thing anyone wanted was to destroy the very thing they’d spent blood trying to reclaim. 

“There are natural springs inside the mountain,” Thorin’s voice broke into his thoughts, “so they’ll have no fear over water. The biggest question is if they’ve stored food for the winter and, if so, how much.”

If they had stored food, the hobbits could conceivably last months, assuming they were careful and rationed it. 

Frerin chewed on his lower lip as he followed his brother’s gaze to the mountain. If this siege did last months, it could soon erase their advantage. The snows would come, leaving the hobbits safely ensconced inside the mountain, while they would be trapped outside in the elements.

Planning a war with winter fast approaching wasn’t what any of them had wanted, or would have chosen had it been solely up to them. If they could have, they’d have spent time carefully planning before marching in early spring with months of warm weather ahead of them within which to outlast the hobbits.

It hadn’t been up to them, however, not entirely. The previous winter in Ered Luin had been brutal. So bad that it had managed to upset the delicate line they had long walked between extreme poverty, and outright starvation.

He’d lost count of how many had died that winter. Of how many times he’d stood silently alongside his brother and sister as flames had flickered and snapped over the wood of pyres, sending yet one more soul to the Halls of Mandos to await the rebuilding of the world.

Not only had the winter itself been brutal, but it had lasted far longer than normal. The optimal time for planting was long past by the time the frost finally loosened its grip, and many crops that were planted failed to produce. Those few that did were destroyed in a series of spring storms that plagued the mountains.

They had tried reaching out to surrounding areas for help but the grip of winter had spread far and there were none who could spare the resources.

Motion caught his eye and Frerin saw Gandalf emerge from his tent. The man looked grave, as he had from the day the war started. He knew the wizard deeply regretted every life lost on both sides, an irony in some ways as he’d been the one to start this entire mess. Gandalf had arrived just as all hope had seemed lost, bearing tales of the tyranny of the false king of Erebor. Dale and Mirkwood were ripe for alliance he’d claimed, and he’d been right. And now here they were, locked in a battle they had to win. If they failed those they’d left behind would starve, might still starve if they didn’t receive word to begin their journey to Erebor soon. Bard appeared, face grave and worn in spite of the night he’d spent in Dale checking on his family and people. “Are you all right?” Frerin asked with a frown. “Your family?” “Fine,” the dark haired man said shortly. “My daughter is angry with me, but she’ll recover.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but Frerin knew better than to press. Lord Bard had been reluctant to ally with them. He detested war, regardless of its justification, and had only agreed in the end when it became clear war was inevitable. All that mattered was whose side he wished to be on. In the distance, Frerin could hear Thranduil barking orders and he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Legolas vanishing around a corner in that direction. The elven prince had proven to be a peacemaker, often tempering his father’s more aggressive temperaments. Said temperament had been on display more and more of late, and not just with him. No one enjoyed the waiting game they were currently engaged in, and less so every day they grew nearer to winter. Frerin’s eyes were drawn back to the mountain and his stomach twisted uncomfortably inside him. He preferred being in control of his own fate, able to take up sword and fight for his life and that of his loved ones. Now all he could do was wait, and hope, that fate would play out in their favor. That the Hobbits’ food would run out and they would surrender before the snow hit. The bite in the air registered and Frerin raised his eyes toward the sky where heavy, dark clouds looked over them. Time would tell on whose side the Valar stood, and soon. He could only pray it was theirs.

[dukereviewsmovies]

Duke Reviews Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull

Hi Everyone, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Where Today We Finish Indiana Jones Month

As We Talk About The Fourth And Probably Not Final Indiana Jones Movie Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull...

This Film Has Indy Working With Mr. Do It...

To Find The Crystal Skull Of Akator Before Thor's Sister Does, Will They Succeed?

Let's Find Out As We Watch Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull

We Open At A Facility That's Closed For Weapons Testing But Does That Stop Russian Agents From Breaking In? Of Course Not!...

And Who Is That They're Getting Out Of The Trunk Of Their Car? Why, It's Dr. Jones Himself Along With His Partner On This Trip, Mac...

They've Been Brought To This Facility By Irina Spalko Stalin's Head Of Psychic Reasearch Science Who's Been Leading Teams From The Kremlin All Over The World To Find Artifacts That May Have Paranormal Military Applications And By She Acts She Maybe Part Jedi Too...

Irina And Her Team Want Indy's Help To Find A Mummy Sarcophagus That He Examined Years Ago...

Translation: He Thinks I Am A Dumbass...

Giving Indy All The Gunpowder And Shotgun Shells He Needs, They Eventually Find The Artifact They're Looking For Giving Indy And Mac The Ample Opportunity To...Strike?...What?

Et Tu, Mac?

Not Exactly The Best Last Words To Go Out On, Indy But Fair Enough...

Dropping His Gun, Indy Manages To Escape The Russians And Mac, Running Through The Facility...

Crashing Through Trucks....

Having Flashbacks To Past Movies...

Does That Mean The Bush Sisters And James Woods Are Trapped In Here Too?...

We Get A Brief Fight Scene With Indy And Ivan Drago Here But It Doesn't Last Long As They're Blasted Out By A Rocket Sled...

After Surviving Ludicrous Speed, Indy Leaves Ivan Drago, Going Into A Town Of Mannequins That's Being Used As A Test Site For A Nuclear Missile Launch Where We Go Into The Scene That Everyone Always Complains About As Indy Goes Into A Fridge During The Nuclear Explosion And Miraculously Survives...

And To Those People I Will State That While It Is Your Choice To Hate What You Want You Are All Still Dead Wrong To Hate This Scene Because 1. The Fridge Was Lead Lined So He Wouldn't Have Gotten Any Radiation In The Slightest And 2. While He Could Have Broken Bones And Possibly His Neck From Being Tossed Around In That Fridge, It Still Is A Good Scene Not As Good As Any Of The Other Action Scenes In These Movies But It Still Comes In On My List Of Best Action Scenes In These Films, I'm Sorry

Found By The Military, Indy Is Questioned By The Men In Black About Mac And The Russians Only To Be Saved By Prince Charming's Dictator Father Who Tells Indy About Spalko Despite The Men In Black Beliving It's Not A Good Idea...

That's What You Get When You Make The Janitor From Scrubs A Member...

The Men In Black Let Indy Go But They Still Consider Him To Be A Possible Commie And Of Interest To Them. Heading Back To Marshall College, Indy Gets Canned By The Dean Of The College, Who Is Basically Marcus 2.0 In This Movie And He's Played By That Guy Who's Been In So Many Films To The Point That You Should Know His Name But Don't, Jim Broadbent...

Deciding To Find Someway To Save His Teaching Career, Indy Decides To Leave Home For A While When Fate Intervenes In The Form Of Shia Labeouf...

Labeouf Plays Mutt Williams, Who Tells Indy That His Friend Harold Oxley Went To Peru Where He Found A Crystal Skull And That He Was On His Way To Akator With It...

Mutt Goes On To Say That His Mom, Mary Went To Peru To Find Oxley Only To Get Kidnapped Herself And If She Doesn't Find The Skull, Then Her And Oxley Are Dead...

Showing Indy Letters, They're Immediately Confronted By KGB Agents Who Attempt To Talk To Them Outside But It Soon Turns Into Greasers Vs. Jocks As Mutt Starts A Fight In An Attempt To Escape...

This Leads To A Chase Between Indy And Mutt, The KGB And The Men In Black (Who Were Apparently Watching Them)

Poor Marcus, You've Been Through A Lot In 2 Movies And Now This...

Taking Mutt Back To His Place, They Discover That Oxley's Letter Is A Riddle...

Flying To Peru, Indy And Mutt Have A Brief Chat While Walking To A Cell That Oxley Inhabited When People Through Him To Be Insane...

Was The Punisher In That Cell For A Time?

Heading To The Cemetery Where Orellana Is Buried, They Soon Find Themselves Against The Protectors Of Orellana's Grave, The Surf Ninjas

Oh, Dear God! Not That Kid From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2! Not Rob Schneider! Somebody Please Save Us From This Torture!

Thank You

They Find An Entrance Into Orellana's Tomb As A Scorpion Stings Mutt....

Going Deeper Into The Tomb, Indy And Mutt Find Orellana And His Men, Transformed Into Mummies Eventually Finding The Skull Itself...

Why Would Ox Put It Back There? That's A Good Question And I Think We're Going To Have The Answer In 3....2...1...

Idiots

Taking Indy To Spalko In Peru, She Tells Him Her Real Plans For The Skull And Akator Once They Get There...

Reuniting Indy With Oxley, Played By The War Doctor, Indy Sees That The Skull Has Screwed Up His Mind, Transforming Him Into A Conduit....

Trying To Turn Indy Into A Conduit Like Oxley, Mac Stops Spalko Believing That Indy Is Of No Use To Them As A Zombie..o

Taking Indy Outside, They're Ready To Kill Mutt, But Still Telling Them To Drop Dead, Spalko Decides To Use Someone Else...

Mom?

Yes, It Turns Out That Mutt's Mom Mary Is In Fact, Marion Ravenwood From Raiders Of The Lost Ark...

Threatening To Kill Marion If Spalko Don't Get What She Wants, Indy Talks To Oxley Again, Getting Nowhere, Until He Notices Something...

Despite Helping The Russians, Mutt Gets Tired Of Waiting And Punches A Guard Giving Him, Marion, Mutt And Oxley The Opportunity To Escape...

But While Escaping, Marion And Indy Get Caught In Quicksand, Forcing Mutt And Oxley To Find A Rope Or Get Help While The 2 Former Lovebirds Have The Chance To Talk About Mutt...

With Secrets Revealed, Mutt Returns, Getting Marion Out Of The Quicksand With What We Think Is A Rope But Is Instead A Snake....

Finally Getting Indy Out, Oxley Returns With What He Considers Help...

The Next Morning, Indy And Marion Tell Mutt The Truth

Knocking Ivan Drago Out, Indy Gets Free, Releasing Mutt And Marion From Their Bonds...

I Should Know, After You, I Had A Pain In The Ass That Was Sleeping With The Director And A One Night Stand With A Nazi...

Taking Control Of The Truck, Indy Uses A Rocket Launcher To Blow Up The Buzzsaw-Wagon Which Catches Spalko's Attention, Making Her Realize That Jones Has Escaped, This Leads To A Chase To Get Oxley And The Skull...

Abandoning The Truck, Indy And Crew Go To A Car Where Indy Jumps To Another Car With Oxley, Mac And Some Russian Soliders, Fighting Them Off One By One Till Indy Reaches Mac, Who Tells Indy That He's A Double Agent For The C.I.A....

But As Mac And Indy Drive, Mutt And Spalko Have A Swordfight That Could Go With Better Music

Eventually Getting The Skull Back, They End Up Crashing Into A Siafu Ant Hill Where Indy Has His Final Fight With Ivan Drago...

Boarding The Car With Marion And The Others They Go Over A Cliff Where They Land In Water To Give Us Indiana Jones Twisted Version Of Splash Mountain

Surviving The Final Drop, They Arrive At A Cave To Find Various Hieroglyphs, Art And Markings All Over The Walls...

But They Are Soon Chased By The Ancestors Of The Ugtha Tribe That Guarded Akator Years Ago But They Are Let Go When Oxley Shows Them The Skull..

Climbing The Pyramid, They Try To Figure Out How To Open It...

Finally Opening The Pyramid, They Sharply Drop Onto Stairs That Quickly Disappear...

Arriving Inside, They Find Treasures Galore Before Coming To Another Door That Opens When The Skull Is Placing The Skull On It...

Inside, There Are Crystal Beings With Crystal Skulls For Heads But Before They Can Place The Skull In It's Proper Place, Mac Shows His True Colors...

Turns Out Mac Lied About Being A Double Agent And Has Been Leaving Tracers For Spalko To Follow...

Placing The Skull On The Crystal Being's Body, It Telepathically Communicates With Oxley In Mayan...

With Spalko Demanding To Know Everything, The Place Starts Falling To Pieces, Revealing What They Are, As Oxley Returns To Normal...

Indy, Mutt, Marion And Oxley Get Out Just In Time As Spalko's Men And Mac Get Sucked Into A Portal And Spalko Suffers From Information Overload...

Out Of The Pyramid, They Watch As The Aliens Go, With Indy Wondering Where?

And So, Everything Ends Happily With Indy Getting A New Job At Marshall College As Associate Dean And Him And Marion Finally Tieing The Knot With Hints That Labeouf Might Be The Next Indy, But Will He?

Nah, People Hated This Movie And Everything Connected To It, But What Do I Think Of The Movie? Well...

I Don't Think It's The Disaster Everyone Thinks It Is, I Mean, It's Not The Best Indiana Jones Movie But It's Not Downright Horrible. The Effects Are Good, The Story's Good, The Cast Is Good Everything Is Just Good, So, Stop Listening To The Crazy Haters And See This Movie...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...