#the cloak and thorin i mean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowboybeepboop · 2 months ago

Text

Magic

"Your hands are... quite magical, you know that?”

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Modern reader falls for Thorin and captures his heart.

Warnings: Soft thorin, unprotected sex, handjob, p in v sex

a/n: Idk I’ve been wanting to write smth like this for a while so hopefully it’s good. Let me know if you have any requests and I hope you enjoy. I’m also currently in school so I’m trying to write in my free time but it’s a difficult balance 😣💔

Gandalf had come across you lost and confused, wandering the trails of the earth. You remembered him, his face, from a movie you had seen in your world. “Gandalf?” You called out to him suspiciously.

"Hm?" He looked around then spotted you. "Ah! A human! What are you doing out here all alone in the middle of the wilderness?"

“I don’t.. I don’t know?” You reply, stepping closer to him seeking the warmth of another body.

Your stomach growled, you have been wandering for hours, maybe even days. Your clothes aren’t from this world and aren’t proper hiking attire.

You adjust the skirt of your dress as you stop in front of him. “I’m not sure where I am..”

His bushy eyebrows furrow at your strange, out-of-place clothes, and a bemused look crossed his face.

He took a step closer, noting your exhaustion and the state of your attire. "I can see that. You don't belong here, do you?"

Gandalf assessed your weary state and wrapped his large cloak around you gently, guiding you towards his horse.

"You look exhausted," he murmured, concern in his eyes. "You can ride with me to Erebor. It is not far."

With a little help from him, you clambered onto the horse's back, settling between Gandalf and the horse's broad neck.

Gandalf led you through the winding paths towards Erebor, the mountain's towering presence growing larger and larger through the trees.

His horse carried you both steadily, and after some time, the grand entrance to the dwarven kingdom came into view.

Gandalf dismounted first and helped you down from the horse before guiding you into the hall of the dwarven king.

King Thorin Oakenshield sat upon a throne carved from solid oak, a long, dark beard covering most of his broad chest. He regarded you with quiet curiosity as you and Gandalf approached.

"Gandalf," Thorin greeted. "You've returned. And with a strange companion?"

Thorin's gaze flicked between Gandalf and the strange human standing beside him. It was a woman, but not like any he had ever seen before. Her clothes were unlike anything from Middle Earth, and she appeared lost and dazed.

"Who is this?" Thorin demanded, his voice sharp and suspicious. "And where did you find her, Gandalf?"

You subconsciously hold the cloak closer to you, shifting under the scrutiny of the King.

Thorin's blue eyes, sharp and calculating, studied you closely. The way you clung to the cloak, the slight tremble in your hands, it all spoke of fear and uncertainty.

Gandalf stepped forward, gesturing to you. "King Thorin, this woman... she appears to be lost. I found her wandering in the wilderness, disoriented and bewildered."

“Y/N.” You say softly, “My name is Y/N.”

Thorin's eyebrows raised at the sound of your name. It rolled off your tongue softly, and he noted the gentleness in your voice.

"Y/N," he repeated slowly, the pronunciation foreign on his tongue. He then turned to glare at Gandalf, his eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion.

“I don’t mean to intrude..” you give the king an awkward smile. “But is there any food I might be allowed?” Your hand goes to your rumbling stomach, your expression a grimace.

Thorin's eyes softened as he heard your stomach grumble. He couldn't help but let out a small, gruff chuckle, amused by your honesty.

"Starving, are you?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We can't have that now, can we?"

He then barked out a command, "Nori! Bring some food and drink for our new guest!"

You visibly relax, a small smile creeping up your lips. “Thank you.”

Thorin's stern demeanor softened slightly as he saw the relief on your face. "It's the least we can do," he replied gruffly.

Nori, a wiry, quick-fingered dwarf, came rushing into the room, carrying a tray of steaming food and a tankard of ale. He placed the tray on a table near you, a sly smile playing on his face. "Here you go, lass."

You reach out and give him a swift hug. “Thank you so much,” you grin widely as you take a seat, eyes sparkling.

Nori's cheeks flushed as he received an unexpected embrace from you. He chuckled and patted your back awkwardly.

"No problem, lass. Just doing my job." He backed away, mumbling something under his breath about "soft humans" as he scurried out of the room.

Meanwhile, Thorin watched the exchange with a mix of surprise and fascination. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

Thorin observed you, watching silently as you took a small bite. His penetrating blue eyes studied your every move, his gaze unwavering. There was something about you that intrigued him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, he broke the silence. "So, Y/N," he began, his voice deep and rumbling. "Can you tell me how you came to be lost in the wilderness?"

“Not really.” You chew eagerly, the cloak Gandalf gave you sliding down your shoulders slightly and exposing your skin to Thorin's gaze.

Thorin's eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of your shoulders as the cloak slipped down. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of your bare flesh. He quickly schooled his reaction and returned his gaze to your face.

"What do you mean, not really?" he asked, his voice gruff, feigning indifference. "You must have some idea of how you ended up out there, lost and alone."

“I don’t..” you sigh, stopping your chewing as you look up at him. “I just remember falling asleep in my bed and then waking up in a cold dark forest.”

Thorin's brow furrowed at your response, confusion and concern etched on his face. "So... you just appeared out of nowhere?" he asked, his voice edged with skepticism.

He took a step closer to you, eyeing the strange clothes you wore. "And what of your clothes? Those are unlike any I've ever seen."

“I was at a party,” you laugh, looking down at your revealing dress that is less than practical in this situation.

Thorin's gaze darkened as he took in the sight of your party attire, the low neckline and the bare length of your thighs on display. He swallowed heavily, his mind wandering to places he shouldn’t allow it to go.

"A party, you say?" He repeated, his voice a little huskier than he had intended.

You nod, Thorin joins you at the table, encouraging you to eat as he continues to question you.

A few weeks have passed since you arrived, you’ve become a little more versed in the world and palace. Having now met each of the many dwarves living in the palace.

As the weeks passed and you grew accustomed to the palace, he found himself seeking your company more and more.

The other dwarves had grown fond of you as well, especially Fili and Kili who teased you frequently and took every opportunity to make you laugh.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Thorin invited you to his private chambers once again.

You carefully step toward his room, cautious and silent as to not wake anyone. You lightly tap on the heavy door, “Uh your highness?”

Thorin rose from his chair as he heard the soft tapping on the door. He took a moment to compose himself before calling out, his voice gravelly and deep, "Come in."

He stood by the fireplace, the amber glow of the flames dancing across his face as he waited for you to enter.

You struggle with the door, still not used to how heavy doors in this world are. “Fucking hell,” you murmur as you finally get it open, slipping inside and walking toward Thorin.

Thorin chuckled; he found your modern curses amusing and strangely endearing.

As you approached him by the fireplace, he took in your appearance. The low light of the fire illuminated your features, casting soft shadows across your face. He noted the way your gown clung to your curves, and his eyes darkened slightly as he fought to control his thoughts.

"Close the door," he commanded in a gruff voice, his gaze still fixed on you.

The room was large and sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of furniture placed throughout. The fireplace provided a warm, intimate setting, and Thorin gestured for you to take a seat on a nearby couch.

You close the door carefully, trying not to make too much noise. Having your back turned to the dwarf meant his gaze could wander your frame and each slight movement of your body.

“Thorin,” you take a seat next to him. “Those doors are so damn heavy.”

As you settled down beside him, Thorin couldn’t help but notice the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. His eyes were drawn to the subtle movement of your body, the way the fabric of your gown clung to your curves.

He chuckled at your comment, a gruff sound that rumbled in his chest. "You'll get used to it," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "After all, you've been here for a few weeks now."

You’ve gotten used to being in his room as he’s been teaching you the history of his kingdom, but you’re never here this late in the evening. “Did you miss me?” You tease as you relax into the plush couch.

Thorin's lips curled into a small smile at your playful tone. He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the hint of amusement in his gaze.

"Don't get too cocky," he grumbled, trying to appear aloof. "I just thought you might want to know more of our history, that's all."

But deep down, he had grown quite fond of your company. Perhaps a little too fond.

“Mm, do I have to learn?” You pout, tired from the day you’ve had. “Perhaps we can just relax..”

Thorin chuckled, his gruff exterior softening slightly at your pout. He knew you had been working hard and was pleasantly surprised by your suggestion to relax.

"Hmm, you want to skip the history lesson tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what would we do instead?"

“I could.. brush your hair! I could braid it.” You offer, not knowing the implications of your suggestion.

Thorin's eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion. He hadn't expected you to offer to brush his hair, let alone braid it. In dwarven culture, it was considered an intimate gesture, reserved for close family or lovers.

But he couldn’t deny that the idea of having you touch his hair was appealing. He found your presence soothing, and the thought of your fingers running through his hair was more enticing than he cared to admit.

"You... want to brush my hair?" he repeated, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of curiosity.

He shifted in his seat, watching you closely, his eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. He could hardly deny the effect your presence had on him, and the thought of you being so close, touching him in such an intimate way made his heart skip a beat.

“Why not?” You grin while scooting slightly closer to him. “It would be nice..”

Thorin's breath hitched as you scooted closer to him, and he found himself strangely compelled by the thought of having your hands in his hair. Despite his usual gruff and stoic demeanor, the idea of allowing you to brush and braid his hair felt oddly vulnerable.

He cleared his throat, trying to suppress his growing desire. "All right then," he grumbled, his voice betraying a hint of excitement. "You can brush my hair."

You grin, taking the brush from the table in your hands. “This is quite exciting.” You murmur, your hands on his shoulders as you kneel behind him.

Thorin felt the warmth of your hands on his shoulders as you knelt behind him, and a shiver ran down his spine. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as he felt your breath on the back of his neck.

"Exciting, you say?" he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "I never thought having my hair brushed would be so thrilling."

“I’ve been wanting to touch your hair for ages,” you softly undo the braids from his hair, your fingers nimbly gliding through. “It looks so soft.”

The honesty and softness in your voice sent a rush of warmth through his chest.

He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper, "It’s not as soft as yours, I assure you."

The feeling of your fingers gliding through his hair was both soothing and arousing, sending tingles down his spine. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of your gentle touch.

You carefully brush through his locks, your fingers brushing against his back as you do so.

Thorin's breath hitched slightly as your fingers trailed against his back, sending a ripple of heat through him. It took all his self-control not to lean into your touch, to feel more of your hands on his skin.

"You... have nimble fingers," he mumbled, his voice gruff and a touch huskier than usual.

“I take that, that is a compliment?” You murmur with a soft giggle as you begin to massage his scalp, the action is something your mom used to do to help you relax.

Thorin let out a low, rumbling sound of contentment as you began to massage his scalp, the tension in his muscles melting away under your touch.

He hummed in response to your question. "A compliment indeed," he murmured, his eyes closing as he leaned into your fingers. "You have a gentle touch. It's... soothing."

“Well, thank you.” Your nails gently scratch against his skin. The pads of your fingertips working at his scalp.

Thorin couldn’t help but moan softly at the pleasure of your touch, the soft scratching of your fingernails sending shocks of desire coursing through him.

He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to regain some control over his growing need. His body was on fire, every inch of him aching for more of your touch.

"Keep that up, and you'll put me to sleep," he teased gruffly, his voice rough with suppressed desire.

“Maybe I’d like to lull you to sleep.” You tease, you adjust yourself, sitting down against the arm of the couch. “Just relax, you can lean against me.” Your legs spread, resting on either side of his body.

Thorin’s mind raced as you adjusted your position, the thought of leaning his weight against your soft body was both thrilling and terrifying. He could practically feel your thighs against his sides, and the thought was both enticing and tortuous.

But he couldn’t deny the aching need in him to give into the temptation of your offer. Without a word, he leaned back against you, his head resting on your chest as he allowed himself to relax into your embrace.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You question, fingers still working in his hair.

Thorin let out a low, rumbling hum of contentment as he leaned against you, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending waves of pleasure through his body.

He nodded, his voice gruff and slightly sleepy. "Yes, quite comfortable," he mumbled, his eyes closed as he savored the sensation of being so close to you. "Your hands are... quite magical, you know that?”

“They’re good for other things too…” you reply in a suggestive tone.

Thorin's eyes snapped open at your suggestive tone, his body tensing at the implication. He swallowed heavily, his mind immediately filled with vivid images of all the “other things” he wished your hands could do to him.

He cleared his throat, his voice rough and strangled. "Is that so?" he managed to reply, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and desire.

“Mhm,” you trail one hand down his chest. “I’ve been told that I’m quite skilled with my hands.” You bite down on your lower lip.

Thorin's heart pounded in his chest as you trailed your hand down his chest, the simple touch sending a wave of heat through his body. He swallowed heavily, the sight of you biting your lip sending his thoughts spiraling out of control.

He couldn’t deny that the thought of your skills with your hands aroused him deeply, but he fought to keep his desire in check.

"Are you now?" he managed to reply, his voice thick with suppressed need. "And who exactly has told you this?"

“They’re not important right now,” you mutter, “my focus is on you, love..” you slide your hand under his shirt, fingers brushing over his muscles.

Thorin's breath hitched at the feeling of your hand under his shirt, your touch igniting a fire in him that he could barely control. The way you referred to him as ‘love’ made his heart clench.

He let out a low, guttural sound as your fingers grazed over his muscles. Your touch was both soothing and arousing, and he found himself leaning into your hand, craving more of your touch.

"You're making it very hard to think straight," he whispered huskily.

“Mm, you’re very handsome my King.” You press a kiss to his temple, your other hand moving from his hair to his chest.

Thorin's eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your kiss on his temple, his heart hammering in his chest at the simple yet intimate gesture.

"You... you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. The feeling of your other hand on his chest made his muscles tense under your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

“Let me take care of you..” You move from behind him, your breasts pressing against his back as you move your hand to his trousers.

The feeling of your breasts pressing against his back sent a jolt of pleasure through Thorin’s body, and he let out a strangled gasp. He could feel the heat of you against him, and it was both tantalizing and torturous.

He swallowed heavily, his voice a hoarse whisper as he tried to fight the overwhelming desire coursing through him. "Take... take care of me?" he repeated, his eyes dark with need.

You kiss his neck as you slip your hand into his pants, fingers grazing over his hardness.

Thorin’s breath hitched as your lips brushed against his neck, followed by the feeling of your hand slipping into his pants. His body trembled with need as your fingers grazed over his hardness, and he let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against your shoulder.

"You’re... you’re driving me mad," he managed to gasp out.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you,” you whisper into his ear, your hand grasping his length.

Thorin's body tensed as your hand grasped him, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips at the sensation. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such pleasure, and the feeling of your breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine.

He forced himself to relax, his head falling back against your shoulder as he surrendered to your touch. "Please... yes, take care of me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

You comply, your thumb brushing over his tip and spreading his precum. He pulls his trousers down, exposing himself to the cool air, your hand moves around him.

You begin to stroke him gently, your hand moving with a rhythm that you've learned from his reactions. Each stroke causes his breath to hitch, each touch of your thumb sends a jolt of pleasure through his body. "Is this what you want?" You whisper, your voice a seductive purr in his ear.

Thorin's eyes squeezed shut as he nodded, his body reacting instinctively to the exquisite pleasure you were giving him. His chest heaved with each breath, his heart racing faster with every stroke. "Yes," he managed to murmur, his voice a rough growl of need.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin as you whisper sweet nothings that only served to heighten his arousal. Each word was a caress, each sound a stroke of pleasure that painted images in his mind of what was to come.

Your hand grew bolder, your strokes more deliberate as you felt his cock swell and throb in your grasp. You knew you had him right where you wanted him, and the power of it thrilled you.

"Y/N..." he gasped out your name, his body begging for more. He was lost in the sensation, the world outside of the warmth of your embrace and the feel of your hand on him ceased to exist.

Thorin's hand reached up to clutch the fabric of your gown, his fingers digging into the material as he fought the urge to pull you closer, to feel more of you.

Your touch grew more insistent, your hand moving faster as you felt him growing closer to release. His muscles tensed, and you knew he was close.

"I... I need you," he whispered, his voice strained with desire. "I need all of you."

With those words, the last of his self-control snapped, and he turned to face you, his eyes burning with passion as he pulled you into a bruising kiss.

As Thorin claimed your lips in a fiery kiss, his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. The heat of your body pressed against his, and his hands began to roam, exploring the soft curves hidden beneath your gown.

His fingers traced the lines of your corset, desperate to feel more of your skin. Your own hands moved to his broad chest, exploring the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Each touch, each kiss grew more feverish as you both gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for weeks.

Your breaths mingled, gasps and moans filling the air as the intensity of your connection grew. The fireplace cast flickering shadows on the wall, dancing in time with the rhythm of your bodies. His hands found your breasts, cupping them gently before moving to untie the corset strings.

As the fabric fell away, revealing your naked chest, Thorin couldn’t help but worship them with his mouth, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his touch with a whimper of pleasure.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rocked your hips against him, feeling his hardness beneath you, begging for more. The room grew hazy with desire as you both lost yourself in the moment, the world outside forgotten in the face of the passion consuming you.

Feeling the warmth of your skin and the weight of your breasts in his hands, Thorin's desire grew more insistent, his cock straining against your stomach. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked into your eyes, searching for permission to take this further.

Your eyes met his, dark with want, and you nodded, your hands sliding down to his hips to guide his cock against your wet, eager pussy. He groaned as the head of his cock teased your entrance, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through his body.

With a gentle rock of your hips, you encouraged him, and he pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you with a deep, guttural moan. You gasped as he filled you completely, the sensation of him inside you like nothing you had ever felt before.

The room spun as he began to thrust, the sound of your mingled cries and the crackling of the fire the only noises in the vast space. Each stroke was met with a whimper of pleasure from you, your body moving in perfect harmony with his, your hips rising to meet each powerful thrust.

The intensity grew, your breaths becoming more ragged, your movements more erratic as the pleasure built within you. Thorin’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements, pushing deeper and faster as he chased his own release.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks that would surely be visible tomorrow, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the overwhelming ecstasy that crashed over you both, leaving you gasping for breath and clinging to each other as the world outside the warm cocoon of his chambers faded away into insignificance.

You moaned into Thorin's mouth, feeling his cock pulse and swell as he claimed your body, the intensity of his thrusts increasing. His beard brushed against your cheeks, adding an extra layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience.

Your own hips met his rhythm, desperately seeking the peak of pleasure that was just out of reach. Your breaths grew quicker and shallower, your heart hammering in your chest as the pressure builds between your legs.

Thorin's hands slid down to grasp your ass, lifting you slightly to change the angle, and the new sensation sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your inner walls clenching around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

The dwarf king growled in response, his own release following closely behind, his warm seed filling you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, you remained like that, panting and trembling in each other's arms, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, his gaze searching yours, a mix of passion, vulnerability, and something deeper that neither of you dared to name. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, and whispered, "I never knew... I never knew it could be like this."

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middleearthpixie · 4 months ago

Text

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Five

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

Read on AO3

“What happened to you?”

Eirlys smiled at the mix of concern and exasperation in Madris’ voice, for it was a far too familiar combination. Still, she waited until she tugged off her snow-spattered boots before answering, “I was saving my future husband’s skin.”

“What?” Madris took the boots to place them outside the door to Eirlys’ chambers, where they would be picked up to be dried and brushed.

Eirlys nodded. “The fool went off into the forest, became lost, and almost stumbled into that blasted orc pack that insists on testing us.”

“And you went alone?”

“Do not think to scold me, Madris. If I’d stopped to get assistance, Thorin would most likely be dead, for not only was he lost, but he was also unarmed. So, I did us all a service, helpless and spoiled though I am.”

Madris sighed softly as she took Eirlys’ cloak to hang up. “It was still foolish of you to do, Your Highness.”

“Why? I am more than capable of taking care of myself and if it weren’t for me, who knows what would have happened to Thorin if I hadn’t gone after him?”

“He is a trained warrior,” Madris reminded her gently.

“One who ventured into the forest unarmed and unawares.”

“Be that as it may—”

“No,” Eirlys broke in sharply, shaking her head. “There is no be that as it may. I kept him safe. I made certain no orc arrows found their mark and I’ll not apologize for it.”

“Your Highness, may I be frank with you?”

“If I tell you no, will it stop you?”

“Not likely.”

“Go on, then.”

“You cannot keep doing things like that. Not once you are married. You will be the queen of Erebor, and will need to present yourself accordingly. Part of that is not feeling as if you must rescue your husband at every turn.”

“I feel no such way, but it’s good that I listened to my instincts and followed him, wouldn’t you say? And besides, I am not the queen of anything yet and if it means giving up every part of me, I want no part of it!”

With that, she marched away from Madris, out toward her terrace. The snow had stopped and sunlight broke through, but it did little to ease her blackening spirits. Was this how her life would play out now, with her every move being watched and scolded? Madris was planning to come to Erebor with her, did that mean she would act as mother and teacher and scold her at every turn? If that was so, Eirlys would far rather go alone.

She stared out at the trees and foliage, all draped in mantles of white. She didn't want to think about the time where she would no longer be able to walk in her woods, where she felt so comfortable no matter where in Mirkwood she ventured. The only part of the woods she avoided was were the spiders had claimed the trees as their own. But otherwise, the forest was her playground, her place of serenity, where she went when she was troubled or confused or at a loss. Somehow, she knew Erebor would be none of those places for her.

Footsteps sounded softly behind her. “Your Highness?”

“Go away, Madris. I need no further lectures.”

“I do not wish to lecture you, but you must know what will be expected of you in the coming days.”

“I know what’s expected of me. I am to become someone completely different and hope to the skies that I like the person she is.”

“I think you will become someone different simply because your life is about to change, not because anyone is unhappy with who you are.”

“Aren’t they, though?” She turned her head to meet Madris’ gaze. “Isn’t that why you just told me I cannot keep doing the things I do now? You find fault with my need to be alone in the woods with only my thoughts for company. Does that mean he will as well?”

“Of course not. But,”

“Not atMadris leaned on the woven railing. “But, you will not have the freedom you do now. And you will have even less when you and His Majesty have children. Think you they won’t keep you busy?”

Eirlys’ cheeks grew warm and she couldn't help her slight grin. “I hadn’t thought about children, to be honest.”

“Well, you probably should, for I’ve no doubt that one of King Thorin’s first duties as a husband will be to sire his heir. But,” Madris caught her by the chin and smiled, “you needn’t look so frightened, you know. It’s not a terrible thing at all.”

“Madris!”

Eirlys jerked back from her maid as Madris chuckled. “What? It isn’t. You’ll see. And your husband to be is quite the handsome man. I think you’ll find you rather like your marriage bed.”

The heat in Eirlys face swept through her entire body and she couldn't meet Madris’ eyes any longer. Casting her gaze downward, she said, “We should not be discussing this.”

“Actually, we should, for this is what your mother would have done.”

Now Eirlys looked up. “What?”

Madris’ expression softened, and a hint of maternal warmth slipped into her voice as she said, “It would be her job to impart upon you the knowledge you need when it comes to relations with your husband.”

The urge to squirm surged through Eirlys, so to alleviate it, she curled her hands into tight balls, her fingernails biting into her palms. “Must we talk about this now?”

“We must, yes. You need to know what he will expect.” Madris caught her by the chin again, her smile soft. “Because he will most definitely be expecting to consummate your union.”

“Madris, please…”

“It is important. You need not be scared, for I imagine he will be gentle with you, and you should know that it might hurt a bit, but that is temporary and will pass. And when it does—”

“Stop it!” Eirlys stepped back. “I need to hear no more, Madris, and I wish to hear no more.”

“Do you know what is supposed to happen?”

“Yes! I am well aware!”

Madris looked stunned by this admission. “You do?”

“Yes! My father does talk to me, you know, and he spoke of this long before now. So please can we not let the matter drop?”

Madris’ cheeks grew red as she slowly nodded. “Of course. But, if there is anything you wish to ask me, you may.”

Eirlys shook her head emphatically. She would absolutely melt if this conversation were to continue along this vein. Yes, she knew what Thorin most likely expected of her on their wedding night and while Thranduíl had made it clear it was her duty to submit to her husband, he’d also blushed and offered up a grin when he assured her she would not see it as submitting once she realized what said submission entailed. It was difficult to say which of them flushed the worst, as he certainly seemed just as uncomfortable as she was at that moment. It was, no doubt, the most awkward moment of her life.

Although, this one came perilously close.

“Madris, please… this is so uncomfortable.”

“So you’ve no questions?”

“Not a one.”

“Oh, thank the stars!” Madris exhaled heavily, clasping her hands together. “For I think I’ll melt as well if this goes on any longer.”

“Then we will agree that this never took place?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.”

****

“Thorin, a word?”

He bit back an oath as Thranduíl appeared as if from nowhere. Pausing and pivoting toward the elven king, he nodded. “I suppose, yes.”

“Good.” Thranduíl gestured to the doorway to his right. “Join me?”

He followed Thranduíl into the Throne Room, and was immediately transported to the first time he’d stepped into that room. At first, Thranduíl offered him aid, but in the end, their meeting closed on not-so-civil terms, with Thorin being bodily dragged out of the room to be brought to the dungeons far beneath their feet.

“Come in and please, sit.” Thranduíl gestured to the far side of the room, where there stood a marble-topped table surrounded by straight-backed chairs that did not quite fit in with the esthetic of the room.

Thorin drew out a chair to sink into. “What is this about?”

“You needn’t look so suspicious. I wish only to hammer out the remaining details regarding your marriage to Eirlys.”

“And what details remain? I thought we’d agreed the wedding will take place here in the coming days, and afterwards, she and a maid will travel back to Erebor with us.”

“There is also the matter of her dowry.”

Thorin’s back stiffened. “Dowry? I need no payment, Thranduíl. Nor will I accept one.”

To his credit, Thranduíl actually seemed surprised. “You won’t?”

“No. I gain access to your army, and you to mine, and Erebor gains a queen and one day, an heir. I will not accept payment for any woman, least of all the one who will become my wife.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.” Thorin sat back, tapping a forefinger on the marble tabletop. “I understand the tradition, but have no need for it. And I’d rather not have my wife think I see her as merely another possession, for I don’t. In time, I’ve hopes she will be an equal partner to me.”

Thranduíl sat back in his own chair, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as if he’d expected none of this. It was almost amusing, and for a moment, Thorin wondered what the elvenking would do, if he should suddenly not only change his mind, but increase the amount he would accept?

But the truth was, he had no desire to receive payment for Eirlys’ hand. He needed no money or jewels, of course. Erebor teemed with gold, silver, jewels, and all of the precious metals and rare stones he could ever hope to need. As his wife, Eirlys would want for nothing. He might not be happy about marrying, but he would certainly take care of his bride.

Besides, he had the feeling he was getting the better end of the bargain as it was, for where Eirlys would be stuck with him, a plain and rather odd-looking dwarf, he would have a stunningly beautiful elf maiden with shimmering golden hair and strikingly deep blue eyes on his arm. He would be the envy of every man in Middle Earth when they saw his queen. And perhaps that was shallow of him, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it.

“Then I will have the invitations sent at once,” Thranduíl said. “And we will set the date for three weeks from now. That will allow time for travel from the far corners of Middle Earth as well as time for Eirlys’ trousseau to be completed. So, all I need from you is the list of guests you wish to attend and I will see that done.”

“Of course.” Thorin nodded slowly. “I have kin in Ered Luin and in the Iron Hills, and I will also need an invitation sent to Bilbo Baggins, in the Shire.”

“I will see them sent. I’ve often wondered how Master Baggins has fared. Have you kept in touch with him?”

“I have, but I’ve not heard from him of late. Hopefully all is well with him.”

Thranduíl tapped his fingertips against the marble. “We will know soon enough. And if you change your mind in regards to a dowry, you will let me know.”

“I will,” Thorin slowly rose from his chair, “but I cannot see me changing my mind. As I said, I have no need to be paid for marrying the princess. We both benefit from the union, and that is enough.”

“I must admit,” Thranduíl also rose, “upon our first meeting, had someone told me I would be welcoming you into my family, I’d have thought them mad. But, now, I am doing just that.”

“You are not alone,” Thorin told him with a grin, “for I’d have thought myself mad for even considering the possibility.”

Thranduíl held out his hand. “I do welcome you, Thorin. Both Legolas and I do.”

“And I thank you.”

“And now, if I might dispense a bit of advice where my daughter is concerned?”

Thorin didn't even trouble to hide his smile as he replied, “Will it make dealing with her easier?”

That earned him a chuckle. “Have you not yet learned that she is a headstrong woman?”

“I have learned it all too well, actually.”

“So, then there is no making it easier and my advice would be to make no attempt to change her. Do not underestimate her, either, for she will surprise you at every turn. Know that hers is good heart and a powerful mind and do not take either for granted.”

There was a serious note to Thranduíl’s voice, one Thorin had never heard in all of his dealings with him—from the time when he and his company were imprisoned in Mirkwood to his most recent negotiations where Kíli and Tauriel’s wedding was concerned. Not even when Thranduíl made a heartfelt argument for the return of a certain necklace, did the elvenking sound so serious.

“I do not think you need worry,” Thorin assured him, shaking his head, “for I have no designs on changing the princess. I rather like her the way she is, even if she is too blunt for her own good at times.”

“Ah, you’ve noticed that about her.”

“Just a bit.”

“Then you should know the secret is not to fight her. At least not straightaways. It is sometimes easier to let her think she she is getting her way and then later, when she’s come to her senses, you tell her why you’ve decided the way you have.”

“With all due respect, I fully intend to treat her as an equal and will seek her counsel on any important decisions that need to be made.”

Thranduíl offered up a queer look. “Are you so certain that is wise?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? You just finished telling me not to underestimate her and that she has a good mind and heart.”

“And she does, but she also has been rather sheltered and kept away from the realities of the world. You and I both know there is a world of difference between here and out there.”

“I do, and I’ll keep it in mind, but to be honest, I think she will be just fine once she adjusts.” Thorin replied easily. “And now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to return to my chambers and freshen up before supper.”

“Of course. And I will let you know when the invitations have been sent out.”

“Please do, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Thorin took his leave then, and as he walked away to make his way back to his chambers, he wondered if Thranduíl actually knew his daughter at all.

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@lathalea @legolasbadass @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically

@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

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If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

#Richard Armitage #AU #The Hobbit #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield #Is it hot in here?#Hobbit Fic #Romance #Hobbit Fanfic #Thorin x OC #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

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ithrilyann · 2 years ago

Photo

Thorin’s BOTFA costume details in 4K.

“For Thorin’s Erebor reclaimed costume I started weaving op strips of leather to create a dark tunic that would be worn over gold. It was almost like a cage, trapping the gold against his chest (lots of symbolism there) and had a certain streetwise quality to it, a roguishness which was something we wanted. The gold was bringing out the mean streak in Thorin so a certain thuggish, biker-gang quality to his coat subtly reinforced this shift in character.

Beneath the leather Thorin wore a velvet tunic to which we attached his chainmaille, something which came about with a lot of input from Peter and produced a staunch, unfussy look. Thorin's great cloak with its fur collar gave him an even bigger presence. It was always intended that this was formerly one of his grandfather Thror’s cloaks and by wearing it we were showing how Thorin was taking on Thror’s mantle both literally and figuratively, and with it, assuming all of Thror’s problems as well. Just as was done for Thror before him, the cloak was designed to add mass to the actor’s shoulders. We put huge folds in the back to give it more breadth”. - Bob Buck, Costume Designer

“Thorin, being such an important character, went through a lot of development. His costume had to reflect the journey he was going through internally.

Peter, Fran and Philippa went back to the lore for a solution, and that is where the raven theme came from. The Dwarves of Erebor have always had a close relationship with the ravens of the Mountain; they were very important to their culture. The Dwarves can talk to them, so it was a nice touch to reference that relationship with the costume, and it was dark. The entire costume was gold and black, a really fitting metaphor for how the gold was changing Thorin.

The other cool thing was the link we could build between Thorin and Thror, who wore almost identical armour. Thorin would look at himself in this armour and see his grandfather. There could be a moment there in which he would recognize the same sickness that corrupted Thror and make the choice not to be the same”. - Matt Appleton, Weta Workshop Costume Supervisor

(from ‘The Hobbit Chronicles: The Art of War’)

#thorin #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #costumes #reference #armor #ravens of erebor #thror #dragon sickness #weta books #pj's crew talks the hobbit #quote #concept and design

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gwen-ever · 16 days ago

Text

Chapter 2: The Traitor

Hey there, fabulous readers! 🖤 This is not your usual Chapter 1—it’s the remastered, deluxe edition! 🎉 I’ve sprinkled in extra details, hidden gems, and juicy insights that I think you’ll absolutely love. Think of it as the director’s cut of this fic! While you’re diving into this revamped chapter, know that I’m also hard at work crafting brand-new, never-before-seen chapters (exciting, right?!). These will hit your screens on either Saturdays or Sundays—so mark your calendars and keep an eye out! ⏳ A little extra fun: I’d love to hear your thoughts! What do you think is going to happen between Thorin and Geira? 🤔 Do you have any spicy theories or suspicions about where the story is headed? Drop your predictions—I’m dying to know! 🔮 Thank you so much for your incredible support—it means the world to me. If you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a review or reblogging it on Tumblr. Seriously, every little bit helps this story grow! 💖 Now, let’s jump back into the action and explore all the new twists and turns. Enjoy! Huge thank you to @lathalea to being my beta reader and tell me when I am messing up! <3 Mashkil: Dirt 'Angûna: Filth

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

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“What is she doing here?” roared Thorin Oakenshield, pointing an accusatory finger at the newcomer, who had just set her wooden bow down in a corner and removed her heavy black travelling cloak.

She felt the king's gaze burn into her like fire but avoided looking at him, even as he stepped closer, like an animal poised to attack. Instead, she raised her eyes towards the tall figure of the wizard, who smiled at her faintly from the corner of his mouth.

“My dear Geira, allow me to introduce our host, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf announced in a composed tone, ignoring, like her, the dwarven king’s question.

With small steps, Gandalf moved to one side, gesturing towards the small hobbit standing in the centre of the hallway.

“Good evening.” The hobbit tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her.

She guessed that he probably didn’t like being surrounded by so many intruders. Now that another one had arrived, he was likely in complete panic. She understood, as she could imagine how bewildering the scene must be for him.

For a brief moment, she felt sincere sympathy for him. But she herself was not in the best of moods, and maintaining that façade of indifference was becoming increasingly difficult.

Maintaining her composure, she offered him a small smile, inclined her head slightly, and touched her chest while clutching the edge of her red tunic. “Geira, daughter of Geiri, at your service,” she introduced herself.

“Traitor to her people!” Dwalin added scornfully, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She tried to ignore the dwarf’s words and continued smiling faintly at the hobbit before her. But then another voice, one she could never forget even in a thousand years, spoke.

“What are you doing here, filthy mashkil ?” Thorin growled, his voice reverberating through the house.

Her resolve to stay calm shattered like a crystal glass thrown to the ground.

Geira lifted her eyes, finally meeting Thorin’s. His icy blue gaze bore into hers, cold as a winter’s night during a snowstorm. Yet what she felt was... nothing.

She felt nothing. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

“No one asked for you to speak, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

The moment she finished speaking, several elderly dwarves around the table erupted with exclamations. In an instant, some of them stood up, shouting at her.

One dwarf in particular kicked over his stool and slammed his two iron fists onto the wooden table, making it groan under the force.

“Filthy traitor, say that again!” Dwalin roared. “I dare you to say it again!”

Her eyes were drawn to the muscles of his arms, rippling with anger, and to the scars on his forearms, which seemed to take on a life of their own. She needed to extract herself from the situation—for the sake of the promise she had made to herself.

“Sit down, Dwalin...” Geira murmured.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, angûna . Just breathing your air disgusts me. You should die for daring to show your face here!”

“This is not dwarven territory...”

“As long as I am under this roof, everything around me is dwarven territory!”

At this, however, Geira couldn’t suppress a sneer. “It’s ironic that you’re so preoccupied with noticing and acknowledging my presence instead of thinking about how to reclaim your territory,” she shot back, staring him down.

The dwarf roared, stepping away from the table with a swift movement.

“One word from you, Thorin, and I’ll make her regret it bitterly! Damned traitor!” he bellowed, consumed by rage.

Geira turned her gaze to the Dwarven king, who remained standing. She locked eyes with him, waiting silently for his response to the warrior dwarf’s demand. And she got it.

The frown on Thorin’s brow deepened, but his gaze remained cold—icy and terrifying, like the last look he had given her long ago.

Thorin opened his mouth to issue a command, but both were interrupted by the most unexpected voice, which, to her surprise, came to her defence.

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe that’s the proper way to speak to a lady.” All eyes turned to the side of the corridor—to Bilbo.

The hobbit stammered under their scrutiny, adjusting his stance with his feet planted together.

“Although, I mean... If she’s what you’re saying... or what you think you’re saying,” he added, glancing at Thorin. “But not in my home. No, sir!” He tugged on the straps of his trousers, more out of irritation than anything else.

Geira released her grip on the sword hilt at her side, startled by the hobbit’s boldness towards Thorin. That small gesture of courage piqued her interest, a rarity for her these days.

She noticed Gandalf’s amused glance at the hobbit, who rocked on his heels, likely expecting Dwalin and Thorin to return to their seats—but they didn’t.

Instead, the clatter of dishes and a few chuckles from the adjoining sitting room broke the icy silence that had descended upon them, dispelling the tension that had thickened like frost.

“Uh-oh! Someone’s angered Master Dwalin! Take this pint, brother, and tread carefully.”

“Watch it yourself, you’re the one stepping on my foot, Kili!”

“Well, then move over! We’re missing all the fun because of you!”

The entire room quickly turned towards the source of the noise—all except for one dwarf: Thorin, who kept his eyes fixed on the dwarf woman without a moment’s distraction.

Before Geira could wonder what was happening, two young dwarves appeared from the kitchen, each carrying two pints. One had hair as golden as molten gold, and the other sported dark and curly locks that were painfully familiar.

Geira held her breath for a few seconds.

“Oh, shut it, Fili! You’re always in the way. If you’d just step aside, I might figure out why they’ve all stopped shouting too,” said the younger dwarf, lifting the pints to take a seat.

“Surely Uncle has finished,” the other replied, mimicking his brother’s movements. “Or the other... burg... lady... has arrived…”

The blonde dwarf didn’t finish his sentence as his blue eyes landed on Geira.

His jaw dropped, causing the twin braids of his moustache to sway.

The hazel-haired dwarf tilted his head to the side as he observed his brother in confusion, slowly lowering himself into a seat.

“What’s a burg... lady?”

Finally, his gaze also fell upon her. But unlike his brother’s stunned expression, his open mouth soon curved into a warm smile.

“SO YOU’RE THE NEW MEMBER! WELCOME!” he shouted, throwing his arms in the air, pints still in hand.

Geira said nothing, remaining impassive, all while feeling the other brother’s gaze still upon her.

“WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SIT DOWN! I EVEN HAVE AN EXTRA PINT FOR YOU IF YOU WANT IT!”

“Kili...” Thorin growled a warning.

“Why were you all shouting like that? And why are you still standing? We were about to explain to Mister Baggins how...”

“Kili,” the elder of the two brothers interrupted, motioning with a glance towards Geira’s sword hilt.

Geira noticed Fili’s eyes and quickly covered the visible seal on the pommel of her sword with her hand. Yet his blue eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re a...”

“Fili, Kili, silence!” Thorin stopped them, but Kili persisted, seemingly unaware that they were only making matters worse.

“Oh, come on, Uncle, it’s wonderful! It will be all...”

“Silence, I said!” Thorin’s roar shook the room, his fist slamming against the table.

Both brothers froze, mouths agape, stunned by their uncle’s sudden outburst. Yet they obeyed, remaining silent as instructed, although their eyes cast accusatory glances of the room. They instinctively knew something wasn’t right.

Geira’s hand slipped away from her sword hilt, her fingers falling as if pulled by an invisible force. Though she avoided meeting the two brothers’ gazes, she felt the weight of their silent scrutiny. They sat back down quietly, their eyes fixed on her.

The dwarven king, however, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening as he shifted his focus back to Gandalf.

A heavy silence once again filled the room, laden with unspoken words.

“I want her gone,” Thorin declared emotionlessly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Gandalf replied calmly as he returned to his seat.

“I won’t allow her to stay here. I won’t permit her to remain near my company and endanger it simply with her presence,” Thorin growled lowly. “I don’t trust her, and I don’t trust anything she says!” he snapped, refusing to look at her.

Geira clenched her fists, struggling to remain calm, though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

How dare he speak of trust? Him, of all people—he who had betrayed her.

How dare he!

She gritted her teeth as a blind fury clouded her vision.

“You’ll have to, for I have done what I thought was right, and recalling her from exile is the right choice,” Gandalf interjected.

“The right choice?” Thorin’s voice rose, his piercing blue eyes glinting dangerously. “And how would we know that?”

Gandalf gestured towards Geira, encouraging her to speak with a slight nod of his head. Thirteen heads turned towards her, and even Thorin finally rested his cold gaze upon her.

For a moment, his mere glance made her falter, causing her to choke on the words she had not yet uttered. Yet she had to say them—for herself, for her father, for her 120 years of exile, and for all the pain she had endured because of the cursed dwarf staring at her.

Swallowing her anger, her vision slowly cleared.

“I am here to fulfil my oath,” she said, looking the dwarven king straight in the eyes.

A subtle shiver swept through the room, penetrating to the bones of those present.

A dull thud echoed through the room—the sound of a cup slamming onto the wooden table.

“This is too much!” Dwalin roared, rising to his feet again. “Thorin, just say a word and I’ll take her head off her shoulders, as I should have done years ago!”

Thorin didn’t respond to Dwalin, keeping his attention fixed on her.

“Your oath?” he asked, his tone unnervingly calm.

With a few strides, he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. “Your oath holds no value anymore. It was broken long ago. Your words, your oath, are nothing but a heap of cold ash!”

She almost dug her nails into her palm. “An oath is for life. You were there when I swore it.”

Thorin’s jaw clenched again, his breathing unsteady.

“And I was there when you broke it,” he growled lowly. “Right in front of my eyes...”

A pang of pain tore through her chest, memories of that day rushing back to her. She could see his look again, feel the tears streaking her face, feel her heart being torn from her chest. She could see her world burning before her eyes, her life reduced to ashes—and then... exile.

The exile he had condemned her to.

“I have no intention of fulfilling my oath for you , if that’s what concerns you, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

“I don’t care why you want to keep it. I don’t need you to keep it!” Thorin roared, enraged. “Your words mean nothing to me, a'lâju Mahal !”

His words were followed by the screech of a chair being pushed back.

“Thorin...” Balin whispered, but Thorin was unstoppable, like a raging fire.

“You have no place among us, no honour, no name, no clan! You are nothing! Your oaths were broken the moment you turned your back on us. Your blood is tainted, just like your father’s!”

For Geira, this was the final straw.

She approached him with a few steps, glaring down at him, her words pouring out like an unstoppable torrent.

“Then let Dwalin take my head now, this instant, for I assure you, Thorin, son of Thrain, that I would rather be buried in the ground than keep the words I once swore to your family!” she retorted mercilessly. “If I could, I would take them back one by one!”

“Silence, traitor!” he shouted at her, slamming his fist against the wall beside him.

“ENOUGH!”

Darkness suddenly descended over everyone present, enveloping the room in a dense, almost tangible shadow. Before Geira could respond, a profound silence fell around them, broken only by the power Gandalf had just unleashed.

Gandalf looked down with an intensity that seemed to shrink them, as if the darkness itself sought to break their determination.

Almost. For as sure as the sunrise, dwarves were not easily intimidated—even when the shadow’s power belonged to a wizard.

“You dwarves and your stubbornness! You’ll ruin us all before we even begin our journey! Geira will come with us. If I say her presence is essential, then it is essential! Her reasons do not matter to me, nor should they to any of you!”

“It does matter,” Thorin’s deep voice rose from the silence that had gripped his companions. “You cannot ask us to trust her, Gandalf. What she did is...”

“I know, but I ask you, for the sake of this mission, to set aside old grievances. Otherwise, we won’t get far if you keep quarrelling. When we reach the Lonely Mountain...” Gandalf paused briefly, taking a deep breath. “Geira will accompany us there and help us reclaim it, and then...”

“Then I’ll leave, if that’s what you wish, Thorin Oakenshield,” Geira interrupted, glancing at Thorin’s hand still resting against the wall beside her.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and slowly stepped back, returning to his seat. “That is what I wish for now—that you leave—and that will not change,” he stated, casting a glance at her hair, so short that it revealed her neck, shoulders, and part of her ears.

The same length it had been when he last saw her.

“I don’t want it to change...” she replied, ashamed of those short locks once more after so long.

The cut he had given her.

And with one last disgusted glance from Thorin at her head, the discussion came to an end. Geira bit her tongue, lowering her gaze. After that long exchange, she accepted the chair that the hobbit kindly offered her with a smile. Meanwhile, the company resumed the conversations they had been having before her arrival.

But the grave atmosphere continued to permeate the room, even as everyone’s focus shifted back to the hobbit.

Geira observed him as Gandalf began explaining the mission to him. It seemed suicidal, at best. The hobbit’s brow furrowed with each new detail, each wrinkle reflecting a small, desperate question. He glanced back and forth between Thorin and Gandalf, his wide eyes almost pleading, as though hoping one of them would reveal that it was all just a cruel joke.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. She felt an odd kinship with him. She knew the instinct to flee, to turn around, and slip out through the round door, pretending none of it had happened.

But she remained rooted in place, her feet practically sinking into the floorboards.

She had given her word to Gandalf and, more importantly, to herself. This time, she wouldn’t run. Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her memory, reminding her that she was more than the whispered stories people told about her. Enough hiding , she thought, steadying her heart.

It was time to face whatever was thrown at her.

A long scroll, resembling a contract, appeared in Gandalf’s hands, drawing her attention back to the room. She watched as the hobbit examined it, his brow tightening, his shoulders slumping with every line, his fingers twitching faintly. Every word seemed to weigh him down, dragging him deeper into the journey that awaited them.

“Incineration?” he asked incredulously, unfurling the parchment further. “...I’m going to faint...” he whispered.

“Think of a furnace with wings: a flash of light, searing pain, and puff! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!” quipped Bofur, peering out from the doorway where he sat.

Bilbo lost all colour in his face, becoming alarmingly pale. To Geira, it looked like an alarm bell; she held her breath until he fainted, collapsing onto the green carpet like a sack of potatoes.

So his courage in speaking to Thorin earlier had been a fleeting spark of bravery?

Chaos erupted in that moment. Everyone leapt to their feet, the floorboards creaking under the sudden commotion. Hands reached out, voices shouted over one another, a frenzied attempt to help—but all they managed to do was create more disorder. The room seemed to come alive with confusion.

“Out. All of you. Now,” Gandalf’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. With a wave of his hand, he ushered them outside, sending them stumbling into the open air.

Dwalin and Nori stayed behind, carefully lifting Bilbo with their strong hands and helping him sit upright. They murmured soft, reassuring words to him, though Geira, already heading to the kitchen, barely noticed.

It had been years since she had worked in a proper kitchen, and the delicate dishes felt foreign to her now.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a blue-and-yellow cup, its smooth surface almost startling her. She picked it up carefully. After what felt like an eternity, she finally brought a steaming cup back into the parlour, her hands trembling slightly from the effort.

Bilbo was seated in a deep armchair, his gaze distant and unfocused, his posture rigid. The moment he heard her steps, his eyes darted to her, following her every movement with quiet intensity.

As soon as she approached, his eyes remained fixed on her, watching each of her gestures until she broke the silence, offering him the cup of aromatic tea.

“Your eyes haven’t stopped following me since I stepped through your door, Bilbo Baggins. I get the feeling you have many questions to ask me,” she said, forcing a smile and trying to appear as friendly as possible.

It was so difficult.

“Well, I... uh...” he stammered, unsure how to continue, perhaps embarrassed to have been caught staring.

He watched her silently as she found a spot near the lit fireplace, leaning her back against its side. “Well, you... you’re like them, aren’t you?”

“A dwarf?”

He nodded, shifting the warm cup between his hands. “But, well, I’d heard that dwarf women... had long...” The hobbit trailed off abruptly, glancing quickly at her hair.

She sighed, deciding to tell him a half-truth.

“I cut them a long time ago,” she explained hurriedly, though she tried not to offend him. “As a sign of... mourning,” she murmured.

It wasn’t the whole truth.

Bilbo’s eyes lingered on her, as though trying to read the story hidden in the dark, tormented depths of her gaze. For a moment, his curiosity took root, growing like a vine left undisturbed for too long. When was the last time anyone had intrigued him like this?

The silence between them grew, filled only by the crackling of the fire, until at last, he spoke, unable to resist.

“May I ask another question?” he ventured, watching her eyes gradually lose themselves in the flames. “Is it true, what they said about you earlier? Those names they called you—are they true?”

“Are you afraid I’ll stab you in your sleep?” she retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo cursed himself—cursed his Tookish curiosity.

“N-no... no...”

“I am exiled, yes. But a traitor... that...” She hesitated, staring again into the fire that crackled silently before them. “That I am not. Never...” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “I am here for one purpose only: to fulfil a promise I made long ago, too long ago...” she murmured, turning towards him. Grey, curious but respectful eyes met dark, deep, tormented ones.

“All of you have a purpose, a mission in all this. I... I’m just a hobbit. I’m not what you all think I am...”

Geira watched the hobbit’s fingers tighten around the cup, and her gaze clouded momentarily.

They were good questions he was asking. Yet Gandalf believed in him, and the dwarves in the other room trusted him far more than they trusted her, someone of their own kind.

For a moment, he reminded her of a young dwarven lady in a grand, luxurious room in a distant mountain, years and years ago, questioning what she wanted to do with her life.

Slowly, she moved closer to him, kneeling beside his green armchair and resting her hands on the armrest.

“I believe you’ll only find out if you come with us. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, Bilbo. I saw it before, and... even if you can’t see it, it’s there. It always is,” she said gently, surprised at her own words.

Why was she speaking to him like this, in that tone, as though she knew him? As though she cared about his opinion? Perhaps it was because she hadn’t spoken to anyone this way in years.

“The journey would be fraught with danger—both from outside and within the Company. It would require courage, but also a deep fear of the unknown, to achieve what we need to do. Because what awaits us on the other side of the known world could be everything—or nothing. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come with us.”

“Danger... within the Company?” Bilbo repeated.

Geira was about to respond when the moment was interrupted by approaching footsteps. The wizard entered, his gaze immediately falling on Bilbo as he checked on the hobbit’s condition.

“Excuse me,” Geira murmured, stepping back and preparing to leave, understanding that it might be better to leave the hobbit with the wizard.

She adjusted her cloak, her fingers brushing the fabric as she approached the door. Just as her hand closed around the handle, Bilbo’s voice called after her.

“Thank you, Lady Geira.”

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a faint smile. “You may call me Geira,” she replied, her voice soft and unexpectedly warm.

Bilbo’s gaze lingered on her, wide-eyed, before quickly shifting back to the cup in his hands. He gave a small nod, his expression a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

Geira caught the subtle smile that curled at the corners of his lips—hesitant, but present. She returned the gesture with a slight smile of her own. With one final look at the hobbit, she opened the door.

The cool night air brushed her face as she stepped out into the darkness, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying the soft creak of the door closing behind her.

She needed to calm her nerves, to regain the composure and cold detachment that the evening’s events had so thoroughly shaken. From an inner pocket of her cloak, she retrieved her long white wooden pipe. From another, she pulled out her pipe weed pouch.

Before long, she was peacefully smoking, seated on the bench just outside the door. Each long puff released small clouds that dissipated into the air; she watched them with her eyes until they disappeared, her mind wandering into the labyrinth of her tangled thoughts.

From the moment Gandalf had appeared before her in that human village, she had known this would be anything but a stroll in the woods. She knew how the others would see her, how they would treat her for the entirety of the journey. What she had experienced earlier was merely a taste of it.

She shook her head, taking another long drag from her pipe to clear her thoughts. She was here for a good reason—she had explained it to Bilbo. She just needed to focus on that and nothing else. It didn’t matter if they ignored her, refused to speak to her along the leagues they would travel, or treated her with suspicion and indifference. She would let them. Their stares would have to slide off her like water on stone.

What Gandalf had told her had haunted her for weeks. The possibility of hope—that if she fulfilled her oath, perhaps, if she survived, she could reclaim her name and return... home.

But did she truly want to go home? Why was she still clinging to a broken oath?

“Are we interrupting?”

A young voice pulled her from her thoughts. Turning, she found herself facing not one, but two young dwarves. They were the same two who had tried to persuade Thorin to include her in the group—Fili and Kili, if she recalled correctly. They had recognised what she was and who she was.

Thorin’s nephews.

Two princes.

Removing the pipe from her mouth, a mix of emotions swirled in her chest—the desire to send them away battling against the impulse to ask them to stay.

“That depends on what you want,” she replied cautiously.

Kili sat beside her without waiting for an invitation. Despite sensing Geira’s wary gaze on him, he paid it no mind.

He pulled out his own pipe and, after lighting it, leaned back on the bench, exhaling small clouds of smoke.

“We just wanted to share some tobacco with you, that’s all,” he insisted, offering a brief smile.

“But perhaps I don’t want to share.”

The younger dwarf widened his eyes and looked at her, almost apologetically.

Geira reproached herself—perhaps that wasn’t the right way to proceed. They were her companions now, and she should at least try not to quarrel with them. Yet the situation was proving so complicated, and the blue eyes of the other brother weren’t making it any easier.

“You should, if you don’t want to isolate yourself before we even set off...” Fili interjected.

Even in the moonlight, his piercing blue eyes gleamed—so familiar it hurt.

She forced herself not to let the sting in his words seep into her voice. “I thought I was already an outcast before we set off, Master Dwarf. And forgive me, but I don’t yet officially know your names, which seems unfair given that you already know mine.”

The dark-haired dwarf sitting next to her laughed, throwing his head back. “You’re right, forgive us. But the earlier circumstances didn’t allow for introductions. I’m Kili, and this is my brother Fili. We’re the sons of Vili.”

Sons of Vili, this mean that they were also Dís’s sons.

A pang in her stomach made her grip her pipe tightly, and suddenly her chest felt incredibly heavy.

The sons of Dís, Princess Dís.

How many years had passed? Had it truly been so long? Had time around her slowed so much that she didn’t even know how many years she had lived this life?

They had been children, but they were older now—older than she had been when everything had changed.

Geira remained silent, trying to calm her racing heart after the revelation. She took another puff of smoke only to realise she was out of tobacco. She cursed silently, cleaned her pipe, and placed it back in her pocket.

Wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself, she braced against a gust of wind that cut through her heavy travelling clothes.

“You’re not very talkative, are you? Yet you spoke to the hobbit. I heard you!” Kili teased, sitting far too close.

“You’re talkative enough for the both of us, young prince,” she replied.

His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing suspiciously.

Geira explained herself before the situation could escalate. “You called Thorin ‘uncle’ earlier. I don’t possess magical powers, if that’s what you fear.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. But I am surprised you called me young. You don’t seem as old as Balin, or Dori, or Master Óin...”

This time, it was Geira who smiled. She barely lifted the corner of her lips, but it was enough for Kili—even if he didn’t know it.

“Appearances can be deceiving. To me, you are certainly quite young—mere boys.”

“How old...”

His brother Fili interrupted him sharply, his glacial eyes again fixating on Geira’s sword, just as they had before.“The sword. Where did you..?” “Lads, come back inside, please. The hobbit has decided,” Balin’s voice interrupted Fili’s question as he appeared in the doorway.

This allowed Geira to avoid answering a rather uncomfortable query.

The old dwarf cast her a brief but penetrating glance before retreating indoors with the two brothers, not bothering to check if she followed. Geira chose to remain outside a little longer, alone.

Balin left Bag End’s door slightly ajar, and from the ensuing murmurs and heavy sighs, Geira deduced that Bilbo had refused to join them on their quest.

A part of her felt a deep sadness and regret. She had resigned herself to embarking on this journey with dwarves who despised her, but the burden seemed less heavy knowing that a face less hostile than the others would have been at her side.

She let out a deep sigh, straining to catch snippets of arguments, angry exclamations, or stubborn remonstrances from inside, but her ears were met with an unsettling silence.

Then, softly, a melody hummed through the quiet; Thorin’s voice, deep and warm, filled the air like an intoxicating scent.

Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

Geira froze as the melody swelled. The words were different from what she remembered, but the song struck her deeply.

A powerful grip seemed to seize her chest, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her heart. The words carried a bitter flavour, nostalgia for something lost long ago—a longing for home, for family.

Soon, Thorin was no longer the only one singing; the others joined in.

The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light.

The song ended, but the sorrow lingered.

Geira quickly retreated further into the shadows of the night, her old and familiar companion, to hide the sadness gripping her chest.

She blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling and took a deep breath, forcing herself to listen as Thorin gave instructions for the next morning’s departure.

“Get as much rest as possible. Gandalf will guide us to our lodgings...”

The room stirred with movement, signs that everyone was gathering their belongings. Not wanting to be seen in such a pitiful state, Geira decided to wait outside. Perhaps, under the cover of darkness, no one would notice her.

As she expected, the others emerged, their faces grim. They cast her fleeting glances before disappearing down a path leading to a small inn. Once the last of them—Ori—had vanished from view, Geira entered the hobbit’s home, looking for her bow. She found it where she had left it, leaning against the small kitchen wall. She cast a quick glance around, noting how clean and orderly everything was once again, as though nothing had happened.

It was a beautiful home, one that belonged to someone who loved their life and wouldn’t change it for all the gold in the world.

Securing her bow across her back, she picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. She moved briskly through the hallway but stopped when her eyes fell on the long contract Thorin had signed, countersigned by Balin, resting on a stool in front of the chair.

Bilbo’s signature was missing—untouched, blank.

She sighed again, brushing her fingers lightly across the parchment.

When Bilbo had thanked her, had he already decided in his heart not to take part? Running a hand through her short hair, she touched each lock from her forehead to her nape.

“You’ll see. He’ll come,” Gandalf’s voice echoed as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back and his usual sardonic smile playing on his lips. He regarded her for a long moment, those piercing blue eyes seeming to delve into her very soul.

Geira, deep down, feared them.

“The contract will be signed very soon,” he insisted.

“You’re so sure? That young hobbit wasn’t convinced. I’ve seen that look far too often—in young soldiers, recruits, even captains of the guard.”

“Oh, I have hope! But, as usual, my hopes tend to be correct!”

“Like the hope that I would come?” she retorted sharply, raising her gaze to meet his.

Gandalf took a deep breath, tilting his head slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling. “That is the uncertainty that, whether you believe me or not, has tormented me for weeks,” he explained softly. “I won’t hide that I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I didn’t want to,” Geira admitted. “I waited in Aldburg as long as I could,” she added, smoothing her travelling bag with a swipe of her hand.

The wizard nodded before speaking again. “I understand. What changed your mind?”

At that unexpected question, Geira stiffened. She had spent weeks in a small inn room in the village of Aldburg in Rohan, mulling over the wizard’s proposal. Until a fortnight ago, she had been more than certain that she would not participate in the expedition.

Why should she? Why should she believe what Gandalf had told her outside that inn? She had known nothing of what lay ahead, yet the future he had painted for her had been too much even for a hardened soul like hers.

He could revoke your exile, Geira. You could return home, fulfil your oath, and be free. Isn’t that what you want? To be free again?

“ I don’t want to die like this—in the filth of a human village, with an invisible chain wrapped around my chest... I don’t want to be bound to him any longer,” she replied hastily, reciting the words as though they were a well-rehearsed chant.

“And it’s not about him?”

She raised her eyes to Gandalf. “Would you ask that of a victim at the executioner’s block? Or the wife of a soldier killed in battle?”

“That depends on how much the victim cared for the executioner—and vice versa,” he answered quietly.

For Geira, it felt like a punch to the chest. A surge of frustration and anger overwhelmed her, and she fought the urge to shout, to release the fury she had held inside all evening.

She trembled, furious, and finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her for months.

“Why did you want me to come? You have warriors, smart and capable dwarves. Why did you come to me? And don’t tell me it was for me !” she nearly growled.

As he had done throughout the evening, Gandalf remained silent for several seconds. He didn’t show anger or displeasure, but the way he looked at her made the world around her feel cold and heavy. For a moment, she felt the same.

“Because you must fulfil your oath,” he finally said.

"I never intended to honour it! That oath was broken long ago, just like the one he made to me! You know i just want to get this thing away from me and the only way to do it is to cut any connection with him. Stop lying to me!" she insisted, pleading with her eyes.

She was owed an answer, a simple answer, nothing more. She just wanted to know why Gandalf wanted her to suffer, why he wanted her so badly in that Company, why he cared so much that he forced Thorin to accept her as a member of his Company.

Gandalf sighed gently, smiling sadly at the corner of his mouth. "I didn’t do it for you, I did it for the executioner, the warrior, the king..."

Geira unexpectedly smiled, a sad smile, without the slightest hint of joy on her face. "You know Gandalf, now I understand why you lied to me, because if those had been the true reasons, you know, I’m sure I would have rejected your invitation."

And without saying another word, she turned and exited through the rounded green door.

She left the hobbit’s house behind, following the same path the others had taken, passing more green mounds— the hobbits' homes— and finally stopping at the inn where the entire company was already lodging, though still awake. And she knew that tonight, like many others, she would find no rest.

Was she really doing this just for herself? Yes, that was the answer, because if it had been otherwise, she would rather have died at his hands than relive all this. To feel it again. To be betrayed again.

—————-

"I told you coming here would be a waste of time!"

"Hiring a hobbit, where did he get such an idea?!"

"I didn’t think such a small body could possess so much..."

"Stubbornness, Oin?"

"Well, why would he help us if he doesn’t even know us?" Bofur observed, relighting his pipe with a flint and sitting more comfortably on the windowsill."Gandalf promised us the hobbit would come with us; an’ if he said so, we must trust him."

"How about a bet then? Come on, Nori! What do ya say?"

A long conversation began, involving everyone, and bets were placed on whether Bilbo would arrive by the next morning.

The hustle and bustle filling the small inn room, where they were to sleep, allowed two dwarves to slip into the corridor, out of sight and earshot.

"What do you think, lad?" Balin asked, smoothing his long white beard.

The other dwarf sighed wearily, the inevitable frown between his brows speaking louder than words; even after removing his heavy cloak to reveal the long blue tunic covering his trousers, his figure was imposing and commanded awe and respect.

No matter how hard Balin tried, he still struggled to believe that this dwarf, once a child, then a young man, would become king so soon, facing two great battles that had taken everything from him and with which he had to reckon every day, every night.

The old dwarf knew with certainty: even in his dreams, Thorin Oakenshield had never been free, safe from resentment and regret.

"I think this mission began under the worst of omens: I wonder if..." Thorin paused, not quite sure how to continue.

"If we should continuewith the quest?"

The king nodded, but his gaze was far from convinced, lost in thoughts unknown to most, but perceptible to Balin; or, at least, for most of the time. But, for safety's sake, he decided to approach the subject calmly, one step at a time.

"Don’t trouble yourself about the hobbit: if you hadn’t given me a sign and brought me here, I would have placed a bet in his favour, you know?" he gave a half-smile.

Thorin made a dismissive sound, somewhere between scepticism and despair.

"Dwalin was right: coming here was a waste of time. It was madness to believe in his help; but even without him, we must go on. No, it’s not his presence that concerns me... no... not him."

There it was, the exposed nerve, the sore point. Just as Balin had imagined: it wasn’t the thought of the failed thief that troubled him.

"Thorin..." Balin began, placing a hand on Thorin’s forearm. But as soon as he did, the muscles beneath the shirt tensed, and the old dwarf was stopped by a raised hand and a fierce look.

"No, Balin. I don’t want to talk about it," came his abrupt reply; and no matter how much the older dwarf insisted, he would not be listened to. The pride of his king was stronger than reason, which struggled to prevail: if he had even tried to think, Thorin would have understood; but stubbornness and rage blinded him.

Balin sighed deeply and shook his head, but in his heart, he hoped this journey would bring victories beyond the dwarves' lost pride.

———————-

Dawn came too soon, and the continuous yawns surprised Geira as she splashed her face with cold water and then fastened her sword to her side, but first, she drew it from its scabbard, inspecting the blade for new scratches. The daylight broke across it, sending blinding glimmers along the walls: her hand caressed the finely crafted hilt.

That sword was her past, her present, perhaps her future. Everything she still possessed was that sword, all that tied her to who she had been was that sword.

She had allowed the two princes to know who she was and what she had been.

She had managed to avoid their questions, but she was sure, having seen the two princes, they would ask Balin, Dwalin... or Thorin for confirmation. And what would they hear?

She returned the sword to its place and stopped losing herself in pointless thoughts; she took one last quick look around the room, tracing the outlines of the simple wooden bed, the chest against the wall, and the windowsill, where a vase of fragrant lilac and yellow flowers stood: perfect, she hadn’t forgotten anything.

She adjusted her travel pack on her shoulder and closed the door, descending to the ground floor; she nodded to the innkeeper and handed him a coin, then stepped out into the warm morning air. Outside, a riot of colours and scents overwhelmed her, leaving her stunned: everything was so wonderfully green, and as the previous evening, she wondered what life could be like there.

"Good morning!"

Kili’s sunny, mischievous smile interrupted her thoughts, just as it had the evening before. He was standing in front of her, chewing a piece of dried meat with his usual nonchalance, while Fili joined him at his side, wearing the same roguish grin.

"Come on, we’ll show you your pony."

"My pony?" she asked, incredulous.

With a nod, Fili invited her to follow them, or rather, to follow his younger brother, who had already begun walking with his hands crossed behind his neck. They took her to the back of the inn, where three animals stood in a large pen. Kili opened the wooden gate and pointed to the pony, a female with an entirely white coat, calm and gentle: Geira approached her, gently stroking her; the pony neighed, appreciating the gesture and making her new mistress smile.

Yes, she liked her, she admitted: she would be a good travelling companion.

"Thank you, lads," she said, offering a grateful smile to the two brothers.

They lowered their heads in response, still focusing on the straps of their bags before leading their horses outside, where the others waited in silence.

Geira followed them without receiving a single greeting from the other members of the company: only a deep and penetrating silence that reminded her of everything they thought of her.

Even her smile slipped from her lips like a shadow chased away by the light.

Silently, she mounted her pony, preparing for the long road ahead. When they were all ready, Thorin looked at each of them, including Gandalf and Geira, with a solemn and distant look, as though he was searching for an ancient strength or perhaps a hint of fear in their faces.

He did not say a word; there was no need. Each of them knew the task that awaited them, the risks and dangers that accompanied it. Yet, nothing would dissuade them: their hearts belonged to Erebor, their promised land, and nothing would deter or stop them from claiming what was theirs.

Thorin led his mount along the paths of Hobbiton, and the others followed in silence. Geira did not look back, keeping her gaze forward while her heart balanced between the weight of memories and an unexpected relief.

They left the town and entered a clearing bordered by ancient trees, whose branches bent under the weight of past ages.

"Wait!"

A familiar voice stopped them, and Geira turned in the saddle, almost incredulous.

Bilbo Baggins, the little hobbit, was now to their left, panting after the long run that brought him there. With an awkward smile, he handed the contract to Balin, claiming his decision with the pride of one who has crossed a threshold. When the old dwarf confirmed the signature, Geira smiled at Bilbo warmly and sincerely, a look that erased any doubt from the hobbit’s face.

#thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x y/n #thorin #middle earth #middle earth fic

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itslulabee · 7 months ago

Text

Participation (Ch.1)

Be My Lover

Kili x OC (smut!! some plot too)

(part two, part three, part four, part five, part six)

Description; This fanfic is posted to my AO3 as well, it's basically just pure filth with my OC Kaia and five members of Thorin's Company, starting with the beloved Kili <3

MINORS DNI !!! sexy times ensuing...

AN; I was listening to Freaky Deaky by Tyga and Doja Cat whilst reading this, just letting you know the vibes.

Translations for any Khuzdul will be at the end! <3

~ <3 ~

Joining a company of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard was never on Kaia’s to-do list.

She enjoyed the sanctity of her little cottage in the middle of nowhere, keeping to herself and minding her business. After all, she was a human woman with no family, and no ties to the rest of Middle Earth. No-one should bother her… right?

Wrong. One night, a few weeks ago, a storm broke out. Ignoring it to the best of her ability, Kaia curled up in her armchair with a book, almost missing the knock at her door.

Curious and slightly annoyed, Kaia looked out through the small window built into the wooden door, and was surprised to see a rather tall man standing on her doorstep. He wore a grey cloak and a pointy hat, both of which were completely soaked from the tumultuous rain. As was his long grey hair and his long grey beard.

Nevertheless, when he caught her eye, he gave her a warm smile.

“Good evening, my lady!” He bellowed, trying to sound louder than the thunder which echoed around the valley. “I wondered if my travelling companions and I could seek refuge in your barn?”

And that was how it started. Kaia begrudgingly agreed, hardly willing to let some travellers freeze to death when she had the means to help. He thanked her profusely, and went on his way, closely followed by fourteen smaller, but equally soaked, individuals.

The next morning, she went to the barn to check on her unexpected guests.

The man introduced himself as Gandalf the Grey, a wizard. She had heard of him, and he her. Her father was a traveller in his day, and he seemed to have crossed paths with the wizard on a few occasions.

Gandalf was glad to have found her, as the leader of their company had led them astray during the storm, and they were now completely lost.

With a sigh, Kaia agreed to show them the way back to the main road, hoping that once she saw them off, she could go back to her life and forget about this whole affair.

She was wrong.

The journey to the main road was a quick one, but felt longer as Kaia spent more time talking with Gandalf, his hobbit friend Bilbo, and the variety of dwarves which comprised the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

And just like that, she found herself travelling with them far past the main road.

It surprised her how much she enjoyed being around the odd bunch. They made her laugh with their jokes and gripped her attention with many stories of their homeland, and their mission to reclaim it.

What surprised her most, however, was how attractive some of these dwarves were...

The renowned and uncrowned King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield, was certainly easy on the eyes. Tall for a dwarf, coming up to her shoulders, he was built well and walked with a commanding aura fit for a king. He had a handsome face, a deep rumbling voice and a self-assured glint in her eye which made her swoon.

But it was not just him who caught Kaia’s eye. His two nephews shared their uncles rugged good looks, but had their own styles and mannerisms that made them completely different. They were cheeky and energetic, and did not waste a single opportunity to flirt with her, causing her to almost be in a constant state of blushing.

Thinking about the line of Durin was enough to make her get hot and bothered, shifting slightly on her saddle as she felt a familiar ache she had grown used to ignoring. However now, in the presence of all of these dwarves, she found herself getting more and more restless, yearning for five minutes alone with one of them, or a few of the other handsome dwarves besides the royal three…

“Are you alright, Miss Kaia?” A small voice breaks her from her thought. She turns her head to see Bilbo Baggins looking up at her from his own pony, giving her a small smile.

“Oh. Yes, I’m fine, Bilbo, Thank you.” Kaia nods, offering him what she hopes was a convincing smile. In truth, she was letting her mind run wild with fantasies of at least five of their dwarvish companions, her whole body flushing at the impure thoughts floating around her head.

“Your face looks a little red, and you keep twitching. Do you feel under the weather?” Bilbo asks, growing concerned.

“I believe I am just tired from all of this riding, dear hobbit…” Kaia chuckles.

“Aye, lass, we’ve been going at it all day.” Bofur's voice pipes up, sidling up to Kaia’s other side, “No wonder you’re sore.”

Bofur gives her a lopsided smile, but his seemingly innocent words struck another cord in Kaia. Looking at Bofur and his goofy, handsome face, she started thinking about going at it with him all day… she cleared her throat, looking away from Bofur to focus on the horizon.

“No, you definitely don’t look alright, I’ll go speak to Oin!” Bilbo says, awkwardly manoeuvring his pony away from her before she could protest. Sighing, she gripped the reins of her horse once again, avoiding Bofur's concerned gaze.

“We will stop for camp in the oncoming clearing!” Thorin’s voice booms from the front of the troupe. Kaia sighs gratefully at this, excited to be able to rest.

Camp was set up very quickly, the proficiency of these dwarves was really spectacular. Especially when they were hungry. In record breaking time, the princes caught rabbits for Bombur to cook. The group milled about in their small, camp-fire lit area, engaging in pleasant conversations amongst themselves.

“When do you think Gandalf with be back?” Bilbo asked Kaia. He was sat next to her, as he often did, smoking his pipe. They had become fast friends, often finding common ground as the minority of non-dwarvish members of the company

“I don’t know. He said a few days, how long has it been?”

“A few days.”

“Ah.” Kaia clicks her tongue, “Then I suppose he should be back soon!”

Bilbo chuckles at this, and Kaia smiles over at him, glad she can make him laugh in moments when he is uneasy. Their friendship was important to both of them, grounding them when they were both caught up in their thoughts. Bilbo worrying about his position in the group, fighting a dragon and perhaps never returning home. And Kaia, thinking lewd thoughts about half of their travelling party. She definitely had it worse.

Kaia reclined against a boulder, fiddling with her mothers necklace as she closed her eyes for a moment. She heard a pair of footsteps approaching the campfire, sitting across from her.

“So, Kaia.” Came Kili’s voice, “You’ve been travelling with us for a while now. Not in a rush to go home?”

Kaia opens her eyes to look at him. He and his brother are sat on a log across from her, Kili smoking his pipe and smiling at her, with Fili busying himself with cleaning his daggers.

“It seems like it.” Kaia says, shrugging.

“We never asked, who’s waiting for you back in that cottage of yours?” Fili asks, his tone nonchalant as he sharpened one of his many knives.

Kaia squinted at the pair, curious about whether or not they were starting up another one of their strange pranks. She had been brought into too many of them before by being naive.

“Why?” She asks.

Fili and Kili shrug, in unison. More members of the group have sat around the fire now, waiting for dinner to be served.

“Why, what?” Nori asks, stretching his arms in front of him.

“We were asking her if she’s got anyone waiting for her at home.” Kili says, shrugging once again.

“Oh, dear, I hope you haven’t left your parents behind to worry about you!” Dori chirps, looking her over in concern. She gave him a warm smile, opening her mouth to speak when she’s interrupted by the blonde haired prince.

“We weren’t asking about her parents…” Fili says. Kaia looks at him, and he winks at her.

“You’re asking me if I left a husband to wait for me?” Kaia asks, a small smirk gracing her lips. Fili’s eyes drop to her mouth, and his tongue pops out to dampen his own. It makes Kaia’s thighs clench slightly at the image of him using his mouth for other means crosses her mind…

“No. I have no husband waiting for me.” Kaia says, trying to play coy as she looks off into the campfire.

“No suitors, either?” Kili asks, resting his head in his palm.

“No suitors, either.”

“How come?” Bofur asks, sitting down next to her. He chews on his pipe as he looks at her intensely, and she shrugs at him.

“I don’t know. No men have come knocking. I don’t think I’m really “courtship material.” Kaia chuckles, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“What do you mean by that, Kaia?” Gloin asks, warming his hands on the fire.

Kaia thinks for a second, looking around at the intrigued faces of her friends.

“I think I intimidate them. I’m not one for being wooed, any men who come close to me I pay no mind to.” Kaia then stops as a sad thought enters her mind. “And perhaps, I’m not attractive enough.”

Though she expected the dwarves to pay no mind to this self-degrading sentiment, the group was in uproar.

“Not attractive enough?!” Kili guffaws, looking at her with wide eyes.

“I’ve never heard the likes of it.” Bofur agrees, shaking his head. The flaps of his hat shake with him, and he gives her an incredulous look.

“Are the men where you're from blind?” Dwalin grumbles, sharpening his axe whilst he looks her up and down.

More of the group hum in agreement to this, and Kaia feels her face go red at the surprising compliments.

“W-well… my father always said I didn’t have womanly features. I always wanted to be out in the fields doing the hard labour with him, and I probably eat more than I should…” Kaia’s voice comes out quiet, thinking back on her parents negative thoughts about her.

It was true, Kaia was built more like a farmer than a wife. Years of working on a farm has given her some muscle, and the years of experimenting in the kitchen and making herself hearty meals had given her a little stomach and a bigger behind. She didn’t hate herself, by any measure, but she could understand that she was not the "picture of femininity"…

“You don’t eat nearly enough!” Dori says, shaking his head. Kaia chuckles at this, and the adamant agreement amongst the group.

“Men really are strange creatures…” Dwalin grunts, “If you were a dwarrowdam in the blue mountains, you’ve have dwarrows fighting over you every damn day. Hell, you’d probably be married with four lovers and an army of bairns by now!”

Kaia laughs heartily at this, as the others agree with him with cheers and nods.

“Four lovers?!” She exclaims, as Bilbo looks at her shocked.

But the dwarves all nod, giving her smiles which indicate this to be a huge compliment.

“Of course not.” Fili says, waving his hand in the air. “She’d have at least seven! And they would be the richest dwarf lords in the mountains.

“Aye!” Kili says, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

Kaia looks at them with wide eyes, and looks over at Bilbo who mirrors her confusion.

“And why would I have so many lovers if I were married?” She asks, confused and wondering if she should be insulted. Were they calling her a slut?

The dwarves raise their eyebrows at her.

“As is tradition.” Balin says to her gently, sitting beside his brother. “Dwarrowdams are a very small percent of our population. Because of this, many will often have many paramours and lovers, as well as a husband.”

The dwarves nod at this.

“Aye, the more lovers she has, the more beautiful she must be, and respected she is amongst her kin.” Gloin says, nodding. “My lass has three lovers keeping watch over her back home.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Bilbo says, incredulous.

Gloin guffaws at this, insulted.

“They are all honourable dwarves. I’d trust them with her life and mine, and our lads too.” Gloin says, holding his chin up.

“You must understand, laddie, that it’s not as if there is not commitment there.” Balin says gently, “Taking a lover is a significant arrangement. There are celebrations and all, it's rather romantic.”

“Aye, Bombur’s wife joined with her lover before we left, it was a beautiful ceremony.” Bofur sighs, wistfully.

Kaia looks around at all of them.

“Have any of you have got dwarrowdam lovers waiting for you back home?” She asks, playing with her hair.

“Oh, aye. My dear dam Myssa. She’s truly special.” Dori says, smiling proudly along with Ori and Nori.

“She has a husband?” Kaia asks, carefully. Dori nods enthusiastically.

“His name is Heron. He’s a lovely dwarrow, always welcoming of me and my brothers. We’ve been a family for going on fifty years now.”

Kaia nods at this, finding herself moved by the love in his voice.

“Though, it’s not always about commitments. Sometimes a dam will have a dwarf just for one night of passion.” Bofur says, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Bilbo chokes on his pipe, spitting tufts of clouds. Some of the group nod at this, but others tell Bofur to stop being so vulgar.

“Damn straight.” Nori sighs, a cheeky grin on his face, “Nothing like a beautiful lass taking you into her arms for just a long moment…”

“Nori! Don’t make it sound so lewd!” Dori tuts. Beside him, Ori flushes deep red, avoiding Kaia’s eyes.

“He’s right, though. A good tumble in the hay is exactly what a dwarf needs to keep his mind sharp.” Grumbles Dwalin, who smirks down at his axe. Kaia stares at him, and his large hands, wondering if they are talented at more than just axe-wielding.

Noticing her gaze, Dwalin locks eyes with her. His eyes travel down her body, slowly, taking in every inch of her. Kaia pants slightly at the fire in his eyes, and feels like she is naked in front of him. She wishes she was naked in front of him…

“What’s all this about?” Comes Thorin’s voice, who walks into the centre of the camp. He looks around at the dwarves, a variety of expressions looking up at him.

His eyes land on Kaia, who is flushed red and breathing deeply. His eyes linger on her chest for a moment, before he looks into her eyes.

Can one of these dwarves please just take it easy on me for five minutes…

“We were just educating our dear lass and hobbit about dwarvish customs.” Balin says nonchalantly, trying to clear some of the tension in the camp.

“You know the ones, uncle…” Fili drawls, leaning back slightly. He locks eyes with Kaia as he says, “Sharing is caring.”

Kaia looks over at him, and he spreads his legs slightly while tilting his head. The movement has Kaia blushing, and she looks away, catching Kili’s eyes. Kili is watching her intensely, a slight pink tint to his cheeks but a smile graces his lips. The look in his eyes, as well as the look in Filis, has Kaia’s body practically thrumming with desire.

“Now, now, boys. The lass is human, she’s unused to our dwarfish customs. Don’t make her feel uncomfortable.” Balin says, shaking his head at the princes. He gives her a warm smile, which she feebly returns.

“Aye, Bilbo’s practically seizing.” Nori says, chuckling. He’s right, Bilbo is as red as a sunburnt tomato, mouth agape and eyes wide at the revelation of the dwarves voyeuristic behaviours.

“That’s enough. It’s almost time to eat, stop this foolishness and return to your duties.” Thorin growls, walking away from the group.

The air is thick with tension. Across from her, Fili is staring at her like he wants to devour her, and Kili is watching her like he wants her to devour him.

Balin follows after Thorin, leaving Dwalin in his place to glide his hands over his axe, watching her legs as they tremble slightly. He grins, spreading his legs slightly at the sight.

Dori is chastising Nori, who is watching the dwarves around him with a grin.

Bofur watches Kaia from around his pipe next to her, one of his legs shaking nervously, and Kaia can spot a slight tent in his trousers..

“Foods ready!” Bombur yells across the camp, and Kaia has never stood up so fast.

After dinner, Kaia kept to her bed roll. She sat cross legged on it, crushing up some lavender to add to her collection of medicinal herbs. Her brain is practically vibrating with memories of the events of this evening.

Fili was such a tease, looking at her with hungry eyes and displaying himself like that… damn that dwarf. It didn’t help that Kili had spent all of dinner making heart eyes at her, making her swoon and tug at the collar of her shirt.

Bofur kept making his jokes throughout, but his eyes lingered on hers longer than they did before, often travelling down her neck before he looked away with a blush. He was such a sweet dwarf, and there was something about him that made her want to jump his bones-

Dwalin had been the worst of them all. He was like a dwarf in heat, staring at her with half shut eyes and breathing heavily, even going as far as to adjust himself in front of her. The memory of it made her hands clench, wanting nothing more than to storm over to him where he was now and tease him, herself.

She really needed to get these thoughts in check.

Kaia was sure she would have been fine if the damned dwarves hadn’t started talking about how they’re all basically a bunch of sluts. Now all she wanted was to grab the first dwarf she sees and pull him down into the grass-

“You alright, lass?” Asked Balin, coming up to stand beside her.

Never mind, maybe the second dwarf she sees…

“I’m fine, Balin. A bit tired.” She smiles at him. He had become like a sort of father figure to her during these last few weeks, and he always had a kind word for her.

Balin offers her a warm smile.

“I’m not surprised lass. It’s been a long day for all of us.” He pats her shoulder. “The princes found a small lake nearby, and the dwarves are taking it in turns to have a quick wash. If you would much rather wait and go by yourself-”

“Yes please!” Kaia exclaimed, giddily. A wash was all she needed. Some cold water, and some time away from these pesky dwarves and the pheromones that came with them.

Balin chuckles at her eagerness. “Very good, lass. Ori and Nori are going next, I’ll tell them to let you know when they’re done.”

She smiles brightly at him, and he waves her goodnight.

Across the camp, Fili dries his hair while watching her. Catching her eye, he gives her a wink. She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles widely at her.

Half an hour later, Nori and Ori return. Kaia heads over and Ori helpfully points her in the direction of the lake. She thanks him and starts heading in the direction he pointed to.

The lake was not too far from the camp, but far enough that she embraced the quiet night ambience during the walk over, the Companies voices fading into nothing. She played with the braid in her hair as she walked, gently tugging it loose.

A twig snapping catches her attention.

Kaia stops, freezing in place. She reaches for her dagger which is usually sheathed at her side. Coming up short, she realises she left it behind.

Shit, she thinks. Another sound of crunching soil makes her spin around, eyes wide in fear. She grabs a stick from the ground and holds it up in defence.

Kili walks into her view, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Have mercy on me, please.” He chuckles, and Kaia breathes a sigh of relief.

“You scared me, you oaf!” She throws the stick at him, and he catches it. He smiles at her, shrugging.

“You’re getting better. I would have been able to sneak up on you with no trouble, a few weeks ago.”

“I’ve gotten used to you and your brother pulling shit, you’ve trained me well.”

They laugh, and Kili looks down at his feet, kicking a patch of dirt. The laughs die down, and he looks back into her eyes.

His eyes are so soft, her breath hitches. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again and swallows thickly.

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable before.” He says, suddenly. “Talking about… you know all of that lover… stuff…”

“It’s alright, Kee.” Kaia smiles softly. “Truly, it didn’t bother me. It just caught me off guard I guess…”

“Of course, that makes sense.” He scratches the back of his neck. He is blushing again. Practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking at anything but her.

“Are you okay?” She asks, taking a step towards him. Kili looks at her, dropping his hands to his side. He goes to say something, but seems to not find the words. He takes a step towards her, meeting her halfway.

“I just… the conversation before…” He starts, “It got me thinking… about you.”

“About me?”

“About how much I want you.”

Kaia gasps slightly. She was not surprised by this, his actions had proved he desired her in some way. But the rumble in his voice as he said it, the vulnerability in his eyes as he confessed this to her. It made her heart quicken in place.

“You want me?” She says quietly, staring into his eyes.

“Yes.” Kili reaches his hand out, dragging his ring finger over her cheek. Kaia’s skin breaks out in goosebumps where he traces his finger across her skin, dragging it over her lower lip.

In a moment of confidence, she kisses his finger. He freezes, looking down at her lips. Darting her tongue out, she licks the pad of his finger, emboldened by the lust in his dark eyes. Kaia drags her teeth over his finger, before taking it between her lips, sucking slightly.

Kili groans, swaying slightly. He presses himself closer to her, pressing his lips to her temple. She can feel his bulge pressing into her pelvis, and she moans into his neck. His other hand seizes her hip, grasping her like she was the only thing anchoring him, twisting his other hand in her hair. He pulled it slightly, bringing her head back and causing her to let out a breathy gasp.

He kissed her exposed neck, dragging his lips over her tender, flushed skin. She dragged a hand over his chest, finding his exposed neck and dragging her nails against the stubble across his jaw.

Groaning, Kili presses his hips against her again, gasping into her shoulder.

“Fuck, Kaia…” He breathes, holding her to him.

“Kili…” Kaia moans, tracing her other hand down his stomach, coming to rest against his tented trousers. Kili moans, extracting his head from her neck.

“Can I… can we….” Kili stutters, eyes clouded in lust. She bites her lip, looking around to make sure they were really alone. She rubs at his erection, and he gasps again.

“I need you.” Kaia says, and Kili grins, smashing his lips onto hers.

The kiss is messy and rushed, clashing teeth and tongues licking at each others. They grasp onto one another, hands caressing and grabbing anything they could find.

Kaia pushes Kili back, pressing him against a tree. Separating from the kiss, Kaia fumbles with the ties on his leather trousers. Kili breathes sharply in front of her, running his hands through her hair and across her face and neck.

Once his trousers are undone, she pulls them down to his knees, causing his cock to spring free. He’s long and thick, the head of him red and weeping. She bites her lip at the sight, and looks into his eyes.

Kili blushes in front of her, bringing his hands up to rest on the tree above him. He looks so innocent and loving as he watches her, submitting himself to her completely. She kisses him once more, taking his lower lip between her teeth and biting it gently, and he groans, his cock pulsing between them.

Unable to wait any longer, Kaia drops to her knees, dragging her hands over his muscled thighs. Above her, Kili drops his head against the tree behind him, exhaling shakily as Kaia nestles her head against his lower stomach.

Pulling her head back, Kaia darts her tongue out, licking a line along the underside of his dick. Kili gasps and shudders, the leather of his tunic groans as his digs his nails into the tree trunk.

Kaia takes the tip of him into her mouth, licking at him before sucking, creating a vacuum. One of Kili’s hands grasps onto her skull, clenching into her hair. She moans around his cock, sending vibrations through him, and his cock pulses in response.

She slides her head down further, taking as much of him into her mouth. She let her spit gather around his length, dragging her hand along the rest of him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck..!” Kili gasps, breathing laboured as he tried to not cum immediately due to her actions.

Kaia smiles around him, dragging her head back and forth with renewed vigour, twisting her fist around him in tandem with her mouth. Kili thrusts slightly into her mouth, his hand in her hair guiding her movements as he gasped and groaned low in his throat.

Kaia looked up at him through her eyelashes, and was rewarded immediately for her care of him. He looked down her with blown out pupils, eyes half-lidded and and mouth opened as he took staggered breaths.

She reached further down and grasped onto his balls, rolling them in her hand. Kili let out a whine, throwing his head back.

“Stop… stop….” He mutters, pulling her head back from his shaft.

Kaia removes her mouth and hands immediately, wiping at the corner of her lips as she stood up.

“Kili? Oh gods, did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry-” She’s interrupted by his lips crashing onto hers, causing her to gasp into his mouth. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her deeply and hurriedly.

He pulls back, holding her close as he looks into her eyes. “I’m so close… I need… Please let me...” He begs so prettily, hands holding her waist in a vice like grip.

Kaia smiles wrapping an arm around his neck as she lowers herself to the ground.

Lying back, Kili hovers over her. His eyes are wide and he seems suddenly nervous, going to say something. Kaia presses her finger against his lips.

“Shh, baby. Let me take care of you.” She murmurs, dragging her hands over his chest. Kili groans, laying his body over hers.

He nuzzles his head into her neck, and Kaia runs her hands through his hair, causing another choked gasp to come from the younger Durin prince.

As he nuzzles and kisses at her neck, Kaia lifts her skirt, tugging at her undergarment until it was hanging around her foot. She lifted her legs and pressed them into his sides, and Kili moaned into her neck, feeling her warmth pressing against his waist.

Kili raises his head, looking into her eyes. A silent question rests on his face, asking for her permission once more. She smiles fondly at him, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“Fuck me, Kili.”

With a groan, kill reaches down between them, taking his unbearably hard cock and pressing the tip into her. Kaia was soaking, and the feel of her warmth just at the head makes Kili whine.

Pressing into her, his eyes roll back as she takes him to easily, practically dragging him in further. Kaia gasps and locks her legs around his waist, urging him to push into her. He does so eagerly, thrusting his hips into her, sheathing himself into her to the hilt.

They both groan at the feeling. He’s so large and thick, and she’s so tight and wet. Kili shudders, his head dropping to her chest as he begins thrusting into her, fast and sloppy.

“Kaia, fuck, I… I’m so close already…. fuck, you feel so good, so tight around me…” Kili murmurs, his words becoming incoherent as he moves faster.

Kaia reaches up into his hair, caressing him as his hips begin to stutter. He lifts his head, looking into her eyes. He’s completely blissed out, eyes full of pure ecstasy, but he looks to her in apology as he knows he’s about to reach is end.

Kaia smiles at him, a wide smile which melts Kili’s heart.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” She whispers to him.

Kili gasps, and pushes his head into the junction between her neck and shoulder. His thrusts have become erratic, and he murmurs to her in Khuzdul as his hips slap against hers.

“Amrâlimê-” Kili chokes out, as he finishes. A low whine escapes him, filling her with his seed. Kaia moans at the feeling, keeping her legs wrapped around his as he spills himself, filling her up. He keeps moving, fucking into her until he becomes exhausted.

Collapsing onto her, Kili breathes heavily into her neck. Kaia runs her hands through his hair, soothing him as he comes down from his high.

He nuzzles her, speaking sweet words into her neck.

“So beautiful… you make me feel so good, ghivashel…” He murmurs, kissing along her collarbone. She smiles into his hair.

He pulls himself from her, causing her cunt to throb once again. He felt so good, and she was sure if he lasted a little longer she would have joined him in his orgasm. But, alas, such is life.

Kili looks up at her, his cheeks flushed and smiling wide. His forehead is covered in sweat, sticking his fringe to his face. She chuckles, combing her fingers through his hair.

He opens his mouth to speak, but is beaten to the punch…

“Well, what do we have here?”

Kaia squeaks in surprise at the new voice, and both she and Kili look over to find the source of the voice...

Thank you for reading!! The next chapter will be up soon!! If you can't wait, the first four chapters are up on my AO3 <3

Translations !!

Ghivashel – treasure of all treasures

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rynneer · 6 months ago

Text

Blood of Durin: The Complete Edition

Chapters 1 & 2

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing: She’s carrying his child.

Updated weekly, or read the full story here

Chapter 1: Don’t Think, Just Run

all eyes on you, so much to prove...

–Don’t Think Just Run, Beth Crowley

“What… who is that?”

“‘Tis a lass!”

“Do we tie her up?”

“Wait—she’s moving!”

“Out of the way!”

Unfamiliar voices rouse you from sleep. You shift in your sleeping bag, but freeze as something cold touches your neck. Opening your eyes, you find yourself surrounded by dark, looming figures. A blade presses into your throat—not hard enough to draw blood, but firmly enough that you know whoever wields it means business.

Your mind races, survival instincts kicking in. There are rangers around the park where you’ve camped for the weekend, but you set up your site in a remote part of the woods. Your phone is in your backpack. Your backpack is by your sleeping bag. If you make a move for it, they slit your throat. You swallow. Time to talk your way out.

“Who are you?” The tallest figure stands over you. Backlit by the rising sun, you can’t quite make out his face, but his voice is oddly familiar.

“Let me go, or I’ll scream,” you rasp, voice rough both from sleep and the blade against your neck. “My… my boyfriend is on his way back.” It sounds stupid and desperate. It is stupid and desperate.

“You are the intruder here,” he growls. “How did you get here?”

Intruder? “It… it’s a state park…” you stammer. Time to change tactics. “Look, I can’t see your face. Let me go, and I swear I won’t tell the cops!”

“Cops?” one questions. He sounds younger.

“I say we just get rid of ‘er,” another one grunts from behind you.

You start to shake. “Please just let me go,” you say, your voice very, very small. This is it. You’re about to become the topic of an unsolved true crime podcast episode.

A sigh comes from your left. “Let her up, Dwalin. Thorin, look at her. The lass is terrified.”

The blade withdraws from your neck. Your mind spins. Dwalin? Thorin?

With your eyes adjusting to the early morning light, you finally get a chance to sit up and look around properly. “No way,” you mutter. “This is a dream.”

Around you are four short, bearded men. But they’re not men, are they? They’re dwarves, and you know these dwarves. Standing over you is a dark-haired dwarf, glowering down at you with folded arms. Flanking him, two younger dwarves: one blonde, one brunette, peering at you curiously. And at your left, an old, white-haired dwarf with a kind face. Another one—bald and tattooed, it’s Dwalin—steps into view, running his thumb along the blade of an axe. He must have been the one holding you down. Past Thorin, you see the others crouched around a fire pit or rising from their bedrolls, all eyes fixed on you.

You back out of your sleeping bag slowly and lift a shaky finger. “Balin, Dwalin… Fíli, Kíli…” you point at each of them in turn. “Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Óin, Glóin, Nori, Dori, Ori… and Thorin.”

There’s a few seconds of silence as all thirteen dwarves stare at you in bewilderment. Then, in a flash, you’re pushed back down, a knife at your throat.

“How do you know who we are?” Thorin demands, his hand pinning your shoulder to the ground roughly.

“Is there a reason you’re holding a young woman at knifepoint, Thorin Oakenshield?”

That voice. You’d know that voice anywhere.

Thorin hesitates as a tall man cloaked in gray emerges from the trees, sucking on a long-stemmed pipe. Gandalf’s eyes are curious, if guarded as he looks down at you. He motions to Thorin to let you up. Reluctantly, the dwarf does so, and you scramble away, pressing your back against a tree. This definitely isn’t the forest you went to sleep in. All that remains of your campsite is your sleeping bag and backpack. No tent, and no car. Just thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and, stumbling into the clearing behind Gandalf, a hobbit.

“Where am I?” you whisper.

“The woods,” Bofur supplies.

“We’re still within the borders of the hobbits’ lands,” Ori offers more helpfully.

“You mean I’m in Middle Earth? Like, J. R. R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings, Shire and Gondor and Mordor Middle Earth?”

Gandalf frowns at that last addition, but nods. “This seems to be distressing to you.”

“But… but you’re not real, you’re just stories,” you protest. Your mind races and you scramble for your backpack, digging around for the book. The Hobbit. You brought it along for some thematically appropriate reading.

Fíli smacks Kíli on the back of the head, making him yelp. “Seems real enough to me.”

“No,” you insist. “No, no, you’re fiction. You were made up by a brilliant man who wrote some of the greatest books of all time, and you’re not real, and–” you halt, staring down at your book in disbelief. The well-thumbed pages are blank. You flip to the beginning. All that remains is the first two chapters, just barely. The book falls from your grasp and you put your face in your hands.

Spying the book, Bilbo moves closer to you, though still maintaining a cautious distance. “Does that say… hobbit?”

“The Hobbit,” you reply, voice muffled. “It’s the title of the story. The story of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield journeying to reclaim the Lonely Mountain from the dragon Smaug. Told from the perspective of Bilbo Baggins. There and Back Again, a Hobbit’s Tale. A book for children.” Peeking over your fingers, you find Thorin’s face. His brow is furrowed.

“You are saying… you are not of this world?” he asks, slowly putting the pieces together. “And in your world, our quest is a mere story for children?”

You nod and clear your throat. “Have you gotten to the… the…” you trail off, racking your brain.

Something’s wrong.

“…I don’t remember what comes next.” Your heart pounds in your ears and your breathing quickens. “I know the story by heart, why can’t I remember what happens next?”

It’s silent as the dwarves watch you.

“Well, ‘tis no different than the rest of us,” Óin remarks eventually. “No one knows what’s to come.”

You wipe at your eyes and sniff.

“So…” Fíli scratches his beard. “What do we do with her?” He grabs your arm, pulling you to your feet and looking at Thorin questioningly.

“We can’t just leave her in the middle of the woods, Thorin,” Balin says quietly.

Thorin looks from you, to Fíli, to Gandalf, to Balin. “We leave her in the next village the moment she becomes a burden,” he grumbles. He leans close to Kíli. “You two keep an eye on her,” he mutters, just barely audible. “Pack up your things. We stop again at midday.”

That breaks the dwarves out of their silence. The morning fills with hushed voices as they bustle around, packing bags and rolling up blankets and bedrolls. Bombur pours a small pot of water over the fire.

Kíli jerks his head towards the ponies. “Flip a coin for who she rides with, Fee?”

Fili lets go of you and brushes you off. “I’ll take her—I’m the better rider anyway.” He pauses to let you gather your things. You were so exhausted after setting up camp the night before that you crawled into bed fully clothed. Seeing you struggle with your sleeping bag, he bends over and rolls it up, fiddling with the elastic cords to tie it shut.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“No trouble.” He straightens up and gives you a small bow. “Fíli, at your service.”

“I know. I’m Y/N.” You keep your gaze lowered, hefting your backpack up on your shoulders and following Fíli to his pony. The tan beast snorts and stamps an impatient hoof. The others, even Bilbo, are already mounted and waiting.

Fíli plants a foot in the stirrup and swings his leg up and over. He holds out a hand. “Up you get, lass.”

Hesitantly, you grip his forearm, surprised at how easily he’s able to pull you up. You stand higher than the dwarf, but he clearly outmatches you in strength. The saddle doesn’t quite fit two, and you wobble, nearly slipping off the other side. Your arm flies forward reflexively to grab Fíli’s shoulder to steady yourself.

“Easy, there!” he cautions, scooting forward to allow you more room in the saddle. He looks back at you. “First time riding?”

You fidget, trying to settle comfortably. “It’s been a really long time.”

He smirks. “Try not to fall off, aye?” He moves your hand to his side and snaps his reins to catch up with the others. Gandalf brings up the rear.

Soon enough, the air is full of chattering and laughter as the Company trots along the path. Bofur starts up a rowdy riding song about a drunk horse. What a strange sight it must make for any passersby: thirteen dwarves with all manner of weapons, a stiff, nervous hobbit, a tall wizard on a great, white horse, and a young woman in strange clothing.

The April air is thick and humid, clouds heavy with the promise of storms to come. Woods gradually open up to rolling fields, back to more woods as your party leaves the Shire behind. Still clinging to the dwarf, you crane your neck and search your surroundings for anything to indicate where you are in the story. Your memories are fuzzy, something about trolls hovering at the back of your mind. All you can think about is losing supplies when a pony bolts and gets swept away in a river—how comforting.

“Lass?” Fíli elbows you, startling you from your thoughts. “We’re stopping.” He hops off the pony, holding out his arms to catch you.

You ignore them, sliding off yourself, but your heavy backpack causes you to stumble. Not completely zipped, its contents spill out onto the ground.

Fíli raises an eyebrow. “No shame in accepting help.” He crouches down to gather things up, but pauses with a puzzled expression. “What are these?” His hand lands on your phone first, staring at it in wonder as it lights up beneath his fingers. He nearly jumps out his skin when it vibrates, informing him that facial ID didn’t work.

You snatch it back from him and shove it in your pocket. “Later,” you grumble. With a sigh, your eyes sweep the rest of your stuff scattered across the leaves. A journal and pen, a few bags of trail mix, some granola bars, a bottle of water, and a half-finished soda from the drive up to the park. You hastily scoop them up and check your backpack for the rest. A fresh set of clothes, a hoodie, some pajamas, basic toiletries, and your solar phone charger. And, of course, The Hobbit.

Fíli frowns at the book. “Do you really know what happens on the journey? How it ends?”

You puff your cheeks out in a sigh. “I should, but it’s all… blurry. I can see the next couple days, though—we’re gonna lose a pony.”

“Fíli! Lass! Planning on joining us?” Balin calls from a short distance away.

You shake yourself, zipping your backpack shut and heaving it off the ground. Gandalf and a few others puff on long pipes, blowing out competing smoke rings. Ori and Kíli munch on apples in a circle of tree stumps. Thorin sits nearby, watching you through narrowed eyes.

“A lass looks good on you, Fee,” Kíli teases as his brother plops on the ground beside him. “Thought you’d never find love.”

Fíli rolls his eyes and punches Kíli’s arm.

You settle against a stump across from the siblings. Kíli rubs an apple on his shirt and tosses it your way. You catch it and nod your thanks. It’s large and sweet, sweeter than any apple you’d bought at the grocery store.

A shadow falls across your lap.

“You.” Thorin looms over you. “What is your name, daughter of Man?”

Daughter of Man? “Y/N,” you mumble.

“What skills do you possess? Can you wield a blade, a bow, tend to wounds? Fight, defend yourself?”

You get his point. “I, uh… I know how to throw a punch. And some basic first aid?”

He doesn’t look impressed.

Desperately, you search your brain for anything useful you could offer him. “I know a lot about Middle Earth history and lore?”

Across from you, a thoughtful look crosses Fíli’s face. “Y/N, what’d you say happens in a few days?”

“A pony bolts during a rainstorm and drowns in a river, and we lose supplies. Mostly food.” Your response is nearly automatic.

Fíli looks at Thorin pointedly. “Give it a couple days, and we shall see just how good of a prophet we have on our hands.”

Thorin presses his lips into a thin line. “We shall see.”

You knew the rainstorm was coming, but it’s still unpleasant. Your hoodie is soaked through, and you can only hope your things are safe inside the emergency plastic bag you keep in your backpack. Water seeps through your fingers from where you hold onto Fíli’s cloak. The wind tears at your hood, ripping it from your head. The only consolation is that the wind is breaking up the clouds, allowing a few rays of moonlight to filter through the woods.

At the head of the party, Thorin halts his pony. “We must find somewhere to take supper,” he mutters. “And where shall we get a dry patch to sleep on?”

“Should we not wait for Gandalf?” Bofur cries from the back of the group.

“What d’you mean, wait for Gandalf?” Kíli asks, puzzled.

“He wandered off a while ago,” you pipe up. “He’ll be back.”

Thorin grumbles something about “Mahal-damned wizards.”

Pulling their hoods tightly around their faces, Bifur and Glóin hop off their ponies, landing in the mud with a squelch and vanishing into the trees. Your butt is quite sore by the time they return.

“There’s nary a dry place to be seen,” Glóin reports. “We may as well camp as we stand.”

You slide from the pony with a groan. “Could’ve told you that myself.”

The rest of the Company seems no more pleased than you at setting up camp beneath the dripping leaves. To keep busy, you help Dori tie up the ponies, but you keep looking back over your shoulder off into the distance at the swollen river you’d forded.

Kíli frowns. “What’s wr–”

He’s interrupted by a screech from the pony Dori is handling. The rope rips from his hand and it bolts—straight for the river.

It happens in slow motion: Fíli and Kíli chase after it, ignoring your screams to stop. Kíli reaches the rope first, snagging it with a hand but instantly getting dragged to the ground. Fíli grabs his boot, only succeeding in yanking it off.

You sprint as fast as your legs will carry you, but Kíli’s already in the river, swept under. “Fíli, don’t you fucking dare–”

And Fíli dives in after, vanishing.

Footsteps pound behind you and a rope lands in your arms. “Move!” Thorin barks.

You run through the trees, chasing the current. Thorin pushes you forward. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you search the water. There!

You spot a dark patch in the water. You fling the rope at him. “Kíli!” you scream.

His hand shoots out and seizes the rope.

Thorin is at your side in an instant. “Pull!”

You yank on the rope for all you’re worth, bracing your legs against a rock. Thorin hollers back toward camp, bringing half a dozen dwarves racing through the forest. As they start hauling Kíli out of the water, you let go of the rope and scramble towards the riverbank. “Fíli?!”

A shout comes from further down the river. A yellow head pokes out over a log stuck in the bank, the dwarf clinging to it for dear life.

You struggle against the sucking mud, reaching out an arm. Fíli grips it tightly and you pull with all your might, clawing at his sopping wet sleeve. Strong arms wrap around your waist and heave, dragging you backwards, Fíli along with you. The momentum sends him crashing on top of you, and you both fall into the mud with a splat. The weight of the dwarf on your chest knocks the wind out of you. After fighting the current, the poor thing is too exhausted to do much more than collapse on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder.

You pat him on the back, chest heaving. “You alright?”

“I’m alive,” he wheezes.

You sigh and let your head fall back against the ground, for the moment not caring about the mud caking your hair. You’ll wash it out later.

Thorin’s face appears above you. He hauls Fíli off of you and offers you a hand. Pulling you from the ground, he wipes a smear of mud from your face.

“I told you,” you pant. “I told you we’d lose a pony.”

But Thorin doesn’t argue. He claps your shoulder. “Welcome to the Company,” he grunts.

Chapter 2: Quiet

Trigger warning: panic attack

and the heat and the shouting and my heart is pounding and my eyes are burning

–Quiet, the cast of Roald Dahl’s Matilda: The Musical

Something’s not right.

There’s a knot in your stomach that becomes more strained as you trek through the woods, yours and Fíli’s pony plodding tiredly beneath you. Thorin rides just ahead, grumbling under his breath. He’s been in a foul mood for days, under the combined stress of Gandalf’s sudden disappearance and the loss of the pony that carried a considerable amount of food. He won’t admit it, but you think Fíli and Kíli’s near-drowning has shaken him as well. It’s the first time so far the Company has encountered real danger, and for it to involve his closest family must weigh heavily on him.

Everyone’s nerves are strained, in fact. Even Bofur hasn’t felt up for a song. With one mount down, the dwarves are alternating between who gets to ride, and who has to walk. So far, you and Bilbo haven’t been in the line up—someone else is always quick to volunteer in your place.

“Something bad is going to happen soon,” you mutter in Fíli’s ear. “I can feel it.”

Thorin lets out a low growl. He may have accepted you as a member of the Company, but you can feel his patience waning. The warning you gave didn’t stop the pony’s loss, and since then all you’ve had to offer are vague, dark feelings.

Fíli reaches back and pats your thigh. “I’m sure we can handle whatever comes our way,” he says.

Thorin pulls back on his reins, halting his pony. “We’ll stop for the night,” he grunts. A sigh of relief ripples through the Company.

The knot of anxiety in your stomach tightens. Something about this decision feels wrong, but you try to ignore it as you slide off the pony and busy yourself setting up camp. But it only gets worse, escalating to physical pain. Briefly, you wonder if your period has come early. When you sit down next to Bombur’s small fire, you hiss. It feels like someone’s stabbed you with a hot poker.

“Something wrong, lass?” Bofur asks, dumping wood on the ground.

“I don’t know,” you reply through gritted teeth. “I don’t think we should be stopping.” As you say it, the pain eases slightly.

Thorin frowns from his place across the fire. “We stop when I say so.”

“Something doesn’t feel right about it,” you say again. “The story–”

Thorin’s eyes flash dangerously. “This is not one of your stories.”

“No, we have to keep going,” you protest. You can sense his anger about to boil over, but you press on. “You have to do what Tolkien said you’re supposed to do!” You regret your phrasing as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“I do not want to hear another word of this Mahal-damned Tolkien and whatever nonsense he penned in your world,” Thorin snaps. “I will not suffer a challenge, least of all from someone who is only on this quest by unfortunate chance!”

Kíli jumps to his feet. “Thorin, you shouldn’t speak to her like that!”

“Be quiet, Kíli!” Thorin rounds on his nephew.

Several others rise and the air fills with a clamor of voices—some coming to your defense, others supporting Thorin.

Shouts ring out.

It’s too loud.

The noise is overwhelming.

Get out.

You can’t hear anything anymore.

You’re useless.

Everything is blurry.

This is your fault.

Your hands begin to sweat.

You can’t change anything.

You’re consumed by just one thought.

I need to get out. Get out. Get out get out get out get out.

You scramble to your feet and bolt, ignoring the cries of the Company and running blindly through the woods.

Get out get out get out.

Your foot catches on a root and the ground rushes up to meet you.

Your pulse races. Your breaths come quick and shallow, barely taking in any air before it’s forced right back out. Somewhere, in a detached part of your mind, you’re aware of what’s happening, but you feel like a passenger in your body as waves of panic slam over you.

“Y/N?”

Arms find you in the shadows. You flinch away, curling into a ball and burying your face in your knees. “I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t–” you gasp, the words tumbling from your lips out of your control. “I can’t breathe, I can’t–”

A hand grips your shoulder, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. “Hey,” a voice murmurs. “Hey there. Easy, lass. You’re alright. You’re alright.”

Even as you stiffen against the touch, an arm works its way between your knees and your chest. It gently uncurls your body and pulls you into a tight embrace. The hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your head, pushing it down lightly. Your face is buried in a mane of soft hair, cool beads pressing into your cheeks.

“That’s it, lass. Breathe.”

With trembling hands, you dig your fingers into the back of whoever holds you. It takes tremendous effort, but you suck in a deep, shuddering breath. The scent in your nose is musky and sweaty, grounding you in the moment. This is real, a voice whispers in the back of your mind. This is safe.

Your stiff body finally loosens, and the hand lifts from your hair. You raise your head and meet a pair of kind eyes.

It’s Fíli. His brow is slightly creased as he searches your face. He eases his hold on you, but keeps his arm wrapped around your middle.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears spilling over your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

He squeezes your side. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” There’s a dark patch on the shoulder of his tunic from your tears.

You duck your head, avoiding his face. “I knew this would happen,” you say softly, bitterness lacing your voice. As the adrenaline drains from your blood, hot shame replaces your fear.

“Does this…” he hesitates. “Does this happen often?” Fíli lowers his head to get in your line of sight. “Y/N?”

“Sometimes.” You pause to take a few more deep, steady breaths, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “I ran out of my medicine last week. It was just a matter of time.”

“Medicine?” His eyes darken with worry. “Are you ill?”

You let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. “Mentally? Yeah. And all this…” you wave your hand in the air, “…it isn’t helping.”

“Nor is Thorin, I’m sure.”

“It’s not his fault,” you mutter.

Fíli shifts into a cross-legged position. He takes one of your arms and puts it around his neck, carefully pulling you into his lap. You sink against his chest, trying to match his even breathing and listening to his heartbeat. He rests his chin on your head and starts humming softly. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him, to any of the dwarves, but you couldn’t care less. You’ll take comfort from any source. You close your eyes with a sigh.

“Uncle doesn’t mean it,” Fíli whispers after a long time. “He values you, I promise.” His chest vibrates as he chuckles. “If he didn’t, you’d have been left behind long ago.”

“Gandalf values me,” you reply morosely. “If it was up to Thorin, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. Or if it was up to me,” you add, voice small.

Fíli squeezes you. “Don’t say that,” he murmurs. “Kíli’s glad you’re here. Balin’s glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re here.”

You swallow down more tears. “Fíli, face it. The only thing I add to the party is a vague idea of what will happen in two or three days. And what good is that if Thorin won’t even listen?” You start to shake again as you finally put to words the thoughts that have plagued you for days. “I’m just dead weight.”

“You keep me going,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. “You’re a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. You’re our lass.”

Silent tears course down your cheeks. Fíli starts humming again.

“I won’t let him say anything like that ever again,” he promises. He pulls back and gives you a small smile. “…markhûna.” [she who is desired]

The meaning of the Khuzdûl is lost on you, but you weakly return his smile.

“Y/N? Are you…”

Kíli pushes through the brush. You expect Fíli to push you away hastily or try to explain your entangled position, but he makes no attempt to move you. He merely stands with you in his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to support yourself.

“Has he cooled off?” Fíli asks warily.

Kíli shrugs. “He hasn’t said a word since she, uh…” he trails off, giving you a careful glance. “Yes. He’s cooled off.”

Fíli nods slowly, and you drop your legs, letting him place you on the ground. “Will you be alright?” he whispers in your ear.

You nod, releasing your arms from around his neck and untangling your fingers from his hair.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll look after you.” Kíli grins and pats you on the back heartily. “You’re one of us now.”

#fanfiction #fíli #fili x reader #fili x you #kíli #the hobbit #blood of durin #thorin oakenshield #everybody lives #update #trigger warning #panic attack

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urdadisgae · 1 year ago

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Bagginsheild headcanons because I’m obsessed again

- dwalin had to tell thorin to stop staring at Bilbo so intensely the way he was because to the average hobbit it look like he wanted Bilbo dead

- thorin was like but like it’s a look of love and dwalin was like does Bilbo know that

- thorin passes all his courting ideas past dwalin

thorin: dyou think he’d like to be awoken with my singing and harp

Dwalin: I genuinely think he’d like to be awoken with a knife and screaming

- thorin audibly sniffs Bilbo when they hug

- it freaks out everyone else but Bilbo thinks it’s endearing

- Bilbo loves thorins cooking even though it’s inedible

- thorin had marriage beads and rings made the first night he knew he wanted Bilbo

- bilbo encourages kili and fili to do backflips off the throne much to thorins dismay

- thorin asked bombur for some help to make breakfast for Bilbo but realised after thorin smashed open 6 consecutive eggs beyond use that one morning could not be enough time to help him

- all dwarfs love bilbo because he’s so different to other dwarfs but is nice and endearing

- this makes thorin only slightly jealous even though he knows bilbo would never even look at another dwarf twice

- thorin farts underneath a blanket and traps bilbo underneath it

- thorin is genuinely thrown off the first time bilbo gets him back

- thorin doesn’t take his jacket or crown off in his room because Bilbo always does and thorin loves when he does

- just gives him a reason to be close and kiss him

- this means that when Bilbo is mad at him he will just stare at him fully clothed still while bilbos already in bed

Bilbo: If you apologise I might think of taking off your crown and cloak

Thorin: I can’t imagine what I did wrong

Bilbo (who got blanket trapped in a fart in the morning): really!? Nothing rings out to you??!!? Nothing at all?????

Thorin: nope

Bilbo (not turned away from him and falling asleep): you’re right you didn’t do anything wrong

#bagginsheild #Bilbo Baggins x thorin oakensheild #thorin oakenshield #minor Fili #minor Kili #Minor dwalin #minor bombur #thilbo #old man yaoi #my fav middle aged gays

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maemae2998 · 7 days ago

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Chapter 4: Braids and…Bunnies?

Here you go! This chapter is pure fluff with several more planned . Crossed posted on my AO3 and with @practitionerofmischief

“Just say it, lass. I swear it isn’t anything bad this time,” Bofur laughed as you threw another acorn at him.

“That is what you said last time and had me unknowingly curse poor Dori!” While Thorin had Fili and Kili up with him towards the front of the group, a few of the younger dwarfs had opted to teach you a few new words in Khuzdul.

“I’ll vouch for him,” Ori called. “Ziriz khî is nothing bad.”

“Fine,” you sighed playfully, “ziris khi?”

Bofur and Ori cheered. “That was mighty close. Ziriz khî,” he corrected.

“Ziriz khî,” you said slowly, but correctly this time. “So what does that mean?”

“Golden one,” Kili answered as he and his pony fell back to you and yours. “A term of endearment for many, but particularly effective if they in question happen to be blonde.” He sent a pointed look towards Bofur.

“Golden one,” you whispered, liking the feel of the words on your tongue. You look around for Fili before finding him still talking with Thorin. You huff a breath out through your nose before turning back to the conversation. Kili sends you a questioning look, but is soon brought into the conversation as well.

Suddenly, the rest of the party stopped as they heard something approaching through the trees. Everyone drew their weapons and turned their ponies to face outward. The air was tense for a moment before a sled broke through the underbrush. A sled pulled by… bunnies? No, rabbits!

“Uncle Radagast!” you cry as you lower your bow and hop off of your pony to greet him with a large hug. The rest of the company, bar Gandalf, are bewildered. “What are you doing here? We are still a long ways from the Greenwood. Oh, hello rabbits!” The rabbits all hop up to you for attention and scritches, momentarily distracting you.

“Did they say uncle again?” Dwalin grumbled exasperated as everyone lowered their weapons.

Bofur huffs, “How many magic relatives could ya have, lass?”

“Well,” You stand holding one of the rabbits carefully in your arms, “I suppose only these two since they’re the only wizards who will claim me. Saruman still calls me the little woodland mutt

when he thinks I can’t hear.” You chuckle, showing that it doesn't hurt to hear, Saruman just dislikes most things by nature. You miss Kili and Fili’s matching growls and glares of distaste toward someone calling you such things.

Radagast looks like a cornered creature, his eyes darting side to side and watching the trees as though they were watching him first and his hands fidgeting like mad. “Uncle,” you call gently as you take his hands in yours, “What is wrong? What has happened?”

“D-dol- gul the woods, there is something- something wicked-” he stammers. Gandalf offers him a puff from his pipe and Radagast calms down. “There is something dark growing in the Greenwood,” he whispers.

Gandalf and you share a perplexed look. “Something…dark?”

“There are forces gathering at,” he looks around and pulls the two of you closer, “Dol Guldor.”

“The abandoned fortress?” You ask. “No one has gathered there in ages. It has been so safe I have ventured into it before.” You realise your mistake in admitting that as they both send you disapproving looks.

“Dark forces are at work there. The workings of a,” he pauses, “a necromancer.”

You hear the rest of the company make a small camp for lunch behind you as you stand shocked. “Necromancy isn’t real.” You look between Radagast and Gandalf. “You told me there was no such thing as true necromancy!”

“Because there isn’t, child,” Gandalf exclaims. “Radagast, you must have heard wrong.”

“That is what I thought at first too.” Radagast pulls something wrapped in cloth out from his cloak. “Until I found this pointed at my throat.” Gandalf undoes the binding at the top of the cloth and reveals an odd looking sword.

“I’ve never seen-” you start. Gandalf’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Go help the others dear,” he interrupts.

“No,” you insist, looking between the two of them though they will not meet your eyes, “I am not a child anymore. If something is wrong with my home I wish to know!”

Rumbling, deep and low, comes from the trees just above the company. “What is that? Wolves? Are there wolves?” Bilbo asks as the others draw their weapons.

“Those are no wolves,” Bofur responds as a warg descends upon the camp. It is quickly taken down by one of Kili’s arrows and a swift blow to the back of the head from Dwalin, but others can be heard not far behind.

“Who besides your kin did you tell of your quest Thorin?” Gandalf asks.

“No one.” The dwarves begin loading up what little they unpacked and look for the ponies.

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one! I swear it.”

“Well, it would appear you are being hunted. Get the ponies!”

“The ponies bolted,” Gloin calls.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast gets back on his sled.

Gandalf shakes his head. “These are Gundabag Wargs, they will outrun you!”

You chuckle and place the rabbit you had been holding back into its harness. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits,” you stand and smile at Gandalf. “I should like to see them try!”

The company heads off on the path intended while Radagast and his rabbits travel slightly off course to draw away the wargs. The company sprints across a field and into an outcropping of boulders. Radagast weaves in and out of the boulders on occasion. As you sprint from one boulder to another a scout sees the motion and wanders closer to examine.

Thorin nods to Kili as the dwarves take cover under a small ledge below the warg and scout. The both of you ready an arrow and step out from hiding together before shooting the warg in the shoulder and the orc in the chest. They fall and are quickly finished off by Thorin and Dwalin.

The other orcs notice the disappearance of their mate and hear the cry of the warg. “They’ve spotted us,” you call as you begin to run. You hear the ruckus of the party following behind you. You watch curiously as Gandalf and Bombur outpace you. Those two? Of everyone in the company, those two?!

You all screech to a halt as more orc scouts appear before you. “They’re coming!” Kili shouts.

“Kili! Shoot them! Shoot them down!” Thorin commands.

You and Kili comply, shooting down orcs and wargs left and right. In the mayhem you notice Gandalf has disappeared. “Where is Gandalf?”

“Has he abandoned us?” Dwalin, ever the pessimist, asks.

“He wouldn’t!” He wouldn’t…right?

The company forms a circle with weapons raised, ready to fight off the scouts or die trying. “Hold your ground!” Thorin barks.

The scouts advance only a few paces before Gandalf seemingly pops out of a hole in the ground under a nearby boulder. “This way you fools!” he calls as he ducks back into what must be a hidden cave.

Thorin glances back to him for a quick moment. “All of you, go, go!”

The company members rush towards the cave and jump in as you and Kili continue filling orcs with arrows. Thorin waits at the cave entrance counting everyone who passes him. “Kili!” he shouts as you are now the only two still out in the open. You glance at each other and begin running for the cave entrance as well. Kili all but shoves you into the hidden cavern before sliding in behind you followed closely by his uncle.

As you catch your breath horns can be heard from the field above. Out of nowhere a dead orc falls down the slope and lands at Kili’s feet. He whips an arm out to shield you and nudges it with his foot to assure it is as dead as the arrow in its throat suggests.

Thorin pulls the arrow from the orc’s neck and studies it before throwing it on the ground in disgust. “Elves,” he spits.

Dwalin appears from a crack in the wall. “There is a tunnel, but I cannot see the end. Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it of, course!” Fili orders. The company follows suit in a line through the narrow passage that seems to never end. You hear Dwalin growl as the company comes to a halt on a cliff overlooking a lush green valley and a lovely town.

“Rivendell,” you and Bilbo sigh at the same time. The elegant city sparkles and shimmers in a way only an elven place is able. Elves, you think, what luck, without this passage Thorin may have refused to so much as set foot…” Your eyes widen as you look back at Gandalf with a satisfied smirk plastered to his face. He knew the passage led to Rivendell.

You were too caught up in your conflicting thoughts to notice much of the rest of the walk to Rivendell, next thing you knew you were being pushed into the center of a protective circle of bristling Dwarves as horses circled around.

“Does he mean us offense?” Gloin accuses.

Gandalf sighs, “He means to feed you.”

The boys pretend to discuss this new information and quickly ask the Elves to lead the way. “Find me before dinner,” you whisper to Fili and Kili before walking over to Gandalf and Lord Elrond still in conversation in Elvish.

“Ah!” Gandalf exclaims as you approach. “Allow me to reintroduce you to my niece-”

“We need to speak, Mithrandir,” You interrupt quickly before turning to Elrond and giving a small bow. “Lord Elrond, when you are able to spare him I need a word with the wizard.” You turn and walk over to a garden visible from the main entrance noting Gandalf’s worried expression. You only called him by his proper name when you were truly upset with him.

You hear a rushed apology and quick footsteps as he follows you just out of sight in the garden. “Need I remind you how much the Elves value politeness and-”

“What are you hiding from me?” You look out over a banister to a quiet pond, your back to Gandalf. “And how long have you been hiding it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“But you do,” you chuckle humorlessly. “You know much more than you have ever let on.” You turn around to glare at him. “You tricked Thorin into Elven lands.” You begin stomping towards him after every sentence. “You knew about the hidden passage. You attempted to turn me away from learning what was wrong with my home, my lovely Greenwood reduced to… Mirkwood. You assure there is nothing to fear but the fear in your own eyes calls your bluff!” The fire in your chest deflates. “What else have you been less than truthful about?”

He cannot meet your gaze as his mouth opens and shuts, the words unwilling to be spoken. “Then enjoy your secrets, Mithrandir,” You huff as you walk off in the direction the company had been led earlier.

An Elf maid shows you to a washroom and fetches new clothes for you while you freshen up. You stand before a large mirror donning a new, very slightly too big, tunic and thin trousers. You’ve just finished detangling most of your hair when you hear knocking at the door. “Come in!”

Fili and Kili walk in cautiously, one glancing about the room and the other watching the hall. “Hello, gaihith,” Fili calls as his eyes find you. Kili turns and quickly runs to embrace you causing everyone to giggle a bit. “Why did you wish us to find you before dinner?”

You smile brightly and feel a blush spreading across your face. “I had something I would like to ask the both of you in private.” They share a look and nod urging you to ask. You breathe deeply, close your eyes and gather your courage. “Ka-e mababnulzant zanât-zu?” You say very slowly, taking care to get the pronunciation correct. (Can I braid your hair?) You fear they can hear your poor heart beating overtime in the moment of silence that follows.

They squish you in an embrace and plant kisses to both sides of your face. “Mahd, yes! Always yes!”

“Who taught you?” Fili asks after pulling back to allow you to breathe and holding you at arm's length.

“Balin,” you laugh, ever so slightly nudging Kili away from your neck. “Balin has been teaching me about Dwarvish courting and how to ask you during night watch. Do you really mean it? You’ll have me, both of you, to court?”

They both gently grab your chin in their hands, slightly squishing your cheeks up, and playfully turn your head to look them in the eyes. “Of course we mean it. We meant it when we said we both cared deeply for you and we mean it now that we should love to court you.” They gently bring their foreheads to rest on yours. “We are yours.”

“And I am yours’,” you sigh as the worry in your chest dissipates into pure joy.

#kili durin #kili x reader #lord of the rings #fili durin #fili x reader #fluff

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crystalbeetle888 · 10 months ago

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Voyage into the Unknown Pt.5

Master List Pt.4 - Pt.5 - Pt.6

It was an early start for the company the following morning, Thoirn wanted us out of town by lunchtime. “You will accompany me, and I shall purchase your travelling items” Thorin states, throwing on his armless fur coat over his armour. I finish getting ready, throwing on my denim jacket, and walk with him down the stairs and outside to meet up with the rest of the company. The dwarves turn to greet us, well, Thorin mostly. “I will be acquiring the appropriate gear and attire for Y/n today, the rest of you, stock up on food, we meet by the gate at high noon” Thorin explains to the group who nod along before dispersing, except for Fili and Kili who make their way over. Looking over at Thorin panicked, I coughed, gaining his attention away from talking to Gandalf. I shoot him a pointed look and tilt my head towards his nephews. He seems to catch the point, stepping around me and between his nephews and I. Thorin has a quiet conversation with them before they look over and nod, before turning around and walking off. Thorin returns to my side “What did you tell them?” I ask. He glances at me briefly “You need not worry yourself, come, let’s get your supplies” He briskly walks away not waiting for me to catch up. Groaning, I chase after him. The streets bustle with people on their way to work. Vendors line the streets with stands of food, spices, linens, and other miscellaneous products. I catch up to Thorin as he struts over to a store with a hanging sign in front, ‘Tailor’ it reads. ‘Damn his little legs move fast’ I think to myself.

Thorin holds open the door as I enter, a young looking girl no older than sixteen sits at the counter “Morning young masters, what can we do for you?” she smiles “She needs to be fitted for two tunics, preferably linen” The young girl nods “Aye we can do that, and just what colour would the lady prefer?” she jots down some notes in a small leather-bound book. “Uh, grey or blue I suppose?” I look at Thorin who shrugs in response. “Mmh Hmm” The girl hums jotting something down, “Alright Miss, this way, we’ll get your sorted in no time, your husband can sit outside” she calls over her shoulder at Thorin, as she whisks me away into the back of the store. Through some draped curtains, is a sectioned off room with a stool in the middle, and a table with an assortment of sewing equipment off to the side. “Well, go on, stand up there” She says impatiently, and I quickly hop up. “You haven’t done this before have you?” She asks, “What gives you that impression?” I question her, “Your silly clothes” She says like its obvious, as she begins to take my measurements, around my arms, waist, bust, and neck. The girl flurries around the room, measuring, taking notes, walking in and out the room, and grabbing different fabrics, before she finally settles on something she likes. “It’ll only take a jiffy to sew these up for you” She says looking at me expectantly. “Uh-” I stutter. “That means you can go now, come back later” She smiles awkwardly. I nod and hurry thorough the curtains and out the store, Thorin leaning up against the wall outside. “How did it go?” he asks standing up fully, “She said to come back in a ‘jiffy’” He nods. “Let’s get your other items, then we’ll return here” He says leading the way. Following behind him again we wander from store to store. He buys me a short brown leather cloak, with a fur lining, a pair of leather arm bracers, leather and fur boot covers, a brown belt with both a sword sheath, with a sword of course, and a small matching pouch, the tailored shirt, and thick cotton trousers. Thorin also buys me some miscellaneous items for the journey. "These aren't Dwarvish make but they'll have to do" He hands me off the items "Because Dwarvish is better?" I ask shoving the stuff into my pack. He gives me a look "Of course it is".

Walking back though the market and towards the front gate, the company stands around idly chatting with one another. Once arriving at the group, Thorin walks over to Dwalin and Balin and I join Bilbo. “Morning mate” I smiled at him. Bilbo looks up at me “Good evening actually- goodness what happened to your face?” He whispered panicked, “Nothing. It happened last night” I shush him. Bilbo looks shocked “Did Thorin-” He hesitates to continue, covering his mouth with his hand, “Gosh no, I- ran into trouble last night, but I’m fine really” My answer doesn’t seem to put him at any ease. Luckily though, Thorin calls for the company to move out before Bilbo can mother me any more.

The company mounts their ponies, and I my new full sized horse I affectionately named Minnie, as she was black and white. Trotting away from the town, I continue to make small talk with Bilbo throughout the rest of the day, avoiding the dwarves so as not to let them see my bruised face. ‘Don’t need to give these old farts an extra reason not to like me’.

Despite Thorins’ generosity it’s obvious that they’re not convinced I’m capable of contributing anything worthwhile to this journey. The mens’ constant 'check ins' over the last nine days makes this painfully obvious. However nice it is to be looked out for, these men still think I’m useless, and it is beginning to wear on my nerves.

Thorin stops the company in a small clearing, next to a slow dribbling waterfall. “We make camp here for the night” He calls out. Groans can be heard from the men as they dismount their ponies and tie them to some trees. Gloin and Oin wander off to collect firewood, Bomber, Bofur, and Ori prepare dinner, Nori and Dori tend to the horses, Bifur and Dwalin attempting to catch some fish, Fili and Kili attempting to hunt some rabbits, and Balin, Thorin and Gandalf ruminate over the map, leaving Bilbo and I to do nothing.

I huff in frustration, 'I won't be useless' I think, trekking over to Thorin “I want something to do” I interrupt their conversation, the old men turning to look at me in surprise. “No” Thorin responds shortly. “Thorin, I refuse to be useless” I argue. “How about you tend to the ponies lass?” Balin says, hoping to defuse the situation. “No, she needs to rest” Thorin repeats firmly in his decision. “More than the rest of us Thorin?” Balin questions. Fed up, I flick the hair from my face and tuck it behind my ear, Balin finally piecing it together “Oh Thorin, she won’t break” He chides him “Go on lass, find a way to help out ” he smiles warmly at me. I smile back, and prance away towards the ponies, finally happy to be taken seriously.

Meanwhile, Balin gives Thorin a very pointed look “What happened to her face?”. Thorin sighs “She was confronted by some Wild-men last night” he explains “She apparently dealt with it herself”. Thorin wasn’t just upset by her injury, a woman under his watch is his responsibility. Whether or not he wanted her there, she was his concern now and she deserved more respect and care whilst amongst the men. At Least that’s what Thorin believed. “Just because she got hurt doesn’t mean she’s helpless” Balin lectures him “Mahal knows you earned a bruise or two from battle” he chuckles to himself much to Thorin's dismay. “She is not like us, the race of men is soft”, Balin looks at him knowingly “You might just be surprised by her” he suggests, knowing just how difficult he is to impress and stubborn Thorin can be.

After feeding, brushing, and watering the ponies Bofur calls out for dinner. Rabbit stew, made from the catch Fili and Kili brought back. Sitting down by Bilbo I patiently wait my turn, wooden bowl in hand “Here, let me wait for you” I look up to Kili extending his open hand “Thank you” I say passing it to him. He grins and wanders off to wait. Bilbo coughs, gaining my attention “If I may comment, I don’t think you should hide things from them” he gives a pointed look “If you were injured would you want them fussing?” I side eye him discreetly. “Point taken” he laughs quietly “Seeing how they coddle you, makes me feel better about how they treat me” I look over at him, clearly agitated. “Really?” I roll my eyes. Kili returns, strutting over confidently holding the two bowls “Here you are my lady” He hands it over before sitting down next to me. I look at Bilbo who stares back awkwardly. I huff and tuck my hair behind my ears, revealing the bruised side of my face. Turning back to Kili, he doesn’t seem to notice as we converse over dinner. Until, he offers to take our bowls to wash, down by the lazy river with Bilbo, “What happened?” He asked, concerned “I’ll tell you later aye?” I reply, smiling gently. He frowns, eyebrows furrowed intensely “As soon as I return” he points at me, before collecting the rest of the bowls from the company and heading down to the river.

After some time Kili and Bilbo return, the rest of the company dispersed, doing their own thing. I lay on my bed-roll looking up at the stars, campfire to my side as Kili approaches with his bag. He sits next to my laying form and sets up his bed-roll an arms length from mine before laying down quietly. A long moment passes before he speaks “What happened last night?” he asks quietly. “Some Wild-men harassed me and the Innkeeper's daughter so I bashed them” I whisper back. Kili reaches over and gently takes my hand “I’m sorry, that happened, I-we should have been there for you” I squeeze his hand in comfort “You can’t always be there, plus I’m a big girl, I can handle myself” I joke. He gives an airy laugh “Yes you are” A moment of silence fills the air. “Did you rough them up good?” He turns to look over at me, and I smile before laughing “I fucked them up so bad”. He lets out a loud chortle “You know I’ve never met a woman that utters such profanities” I smile cheekily “Just part of my culture mate” I state proudly, really emphasizing my Australian accent.

“Is that the outback culture?” he asks “Yes, are you spying on me Master Dwarf?” I joke. Kili laughs sheepishly “I might have questioned Bilbo about you” I squeeze his hand “You could have just asked me” He smiles over at me, the glow from the fire illuminating his face with golden light. His deep brown eyes gleaming, his long flowing hair cascading over his wide shoulders, glittering in the light. His hand is calloused yet gentle as it holds mine, toughened by his laborious training. Kili stares back at me, basking in the warm silence.

Across the fire Thorin sits, watching his youngest nephew chat up their human companion. “How long do you think it will take him to braid her hair?'' His older nephew asks in Khuzdul. “Not long at this rate” he replies. “And you are okay with this?” Fili looks at him questioningly. Thorin gives him a knowing look “Only time will tell if she is his one, and he will need to make that judgement himself” he takes a long puff from his pipe.

Honestly, Thorin wasn’t sure which one of them was more oblivious to their own budding feelings at this point. Fili hums in thought, the two smitten adults across the fire continue to talk amongst themselves, holding hands, until they eventually fall asleep next to each other.

Master List Pt.4 - Pt.5 - Pt.6

#fili and kili #kili durin #kili x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #the hobbit #thorin

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rivendell-poet · 3 months ago

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Hihi! Can I please have headcanons with the fellowship and Thorin's company having a short (like 5 feet) human s/o. And they be part of the fellowship/company, please? Please take as much time as you need!💕

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, and I'm so sorry it took so long. Also, thank you so much for the last part - it's small but means a lot 💕 (should be doing one for Thorin's company as well)

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Can be read as platonic or romantic | Wordcount : 1.7k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ He’s the person you have the largest height difference with. Because he’s weirdly tall.

✧ When the two of you stand next to each other Pippin will sometimes stare. He’s confident that one of you isn’t truly human. Who that is depends on the day.

✧ Aragorn isn’t really bothered by it, cares more about if you can handle yourself on the battlefield.

✧ Does make sure that you have the weapons you need constantly.

✧ Knows it’s probably difficult to find the right sized ones, so after a battle he can be found sharpening yours (generally while humming something).

✧ Has forgotten about the height difference once when you were cold and he gave you his cloak.

✧ Tried very hard not to laugh when you become completely swamped in the fabric and almost fall over.

✧ (He mainly succeeds.)

✧ Will fetch anything you need off the high shelves, and always puts it back on the lower shelves.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Closest of the ‘big people’ in terms of height difference. Not that that means much, because he’s still six feet.

✧ Is constantly asking you to describe the flowers you find. If they’re at a stage he finds it ok, will ask you to pick them up and hand it to him.

✧ Always tells you to ‘watch your head’ whenever he goes through a hallway he has to duck under. Has yet to correct himself on doing this.

✧ Treats your height a lot like he does Gimli’s, except he gets used to you slightly quicker.

✧ If you have not packed a bow he is very sad you can’t do archery together.

✧ Scours places for bows of your size with a slightly worrying intensity.

✧ Eventually, after the war is over, he commissions you one. It’s very beautiful, with dark wood and a gold leaf inlay of the different places you’ve been and enemies you’ve fought.

✧ Is actually a very good archery instructor, treats you how he would the others and it works out.

✧ Will fetch you anything from the high shelves, you just have to ask him first.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Closest in height to you. Is very relieved to find someone else of a normal height when surrounded by everyone else.

✧ You’re taller than he was, but he doesn’t care. Just happy that even though you’re taller than him you’re still almost on the same eye-level.

✧ Is very smug to the others that his weapon is around the same height as you - so the easiest to pick up. And with the best tutor.

✧ Does try to teach you how to use the axe, in some ways is a very good teacher but not all the time. Good offensively, lacking some defensive manoeuvres.

✧ Tries hard to learn your fighting style if you offer to teach him.

✧ Always insists you get first pick of everything when the Fellowship find items that can fit the two of you.

✧ When running across the plains the both of you blame the other one for being the slowest. Both of you also claim to be the better sprinter, neither of you have intentions of proving this claim.

✧ Would happily get you something from the high shelf if he could reach it. Has tried to convince you to climb up via him to get something instead of asking for help.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Along with Aragorn, he also doesn’t make a very big deal of it. You were trusted to be in the Fellowship, what else matters?

✧ You like to sometimes pretend you can’t see the height difference between Aragorn and Boromir and insist Boromir is the taller one. Both men know you’re probably faking, but neither correct you (for different reasons).

✧ Asks you for help to teach the hobbits how to spar, for example if a certain move he wants to teach them would be too risky - and what your advice is.

✧ Has supervised matches between you, Merry, and Pippin before. To your surprise he actually gives genuine, entirely unbiased feedback to all of you.

✧ Small part of him is amused by the fact his shield covers most of you. Would never say that out loud.

✧ (Boromir also finds it comforting, because it just means that it will be easier to protect you.)

✧ Very occasionally sketches out shield designs for you, if he has a lot of free time with most others being asleep. Writes the symbolism behind them in the margins.

✧ Will happily fetch you things from the high shelf. Puts them back onto the same high shelf out of instinct, then realises what he’s done and puts them onto a lower one you can reach.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Believes (lies to himself) that one day he may be as tall as you.

✧ Therefore constantly asks about how different life is when you’re as tall as you are (at the start of the Fellowship) despite the fact you’re only a foot and a bit above him.

✧ He insists that being your height will solve a lot of the problems he has in life. Merry says it’s better to just humour him.

✧ Has asked for piggy-back rides from you a few times. When you finally agree his eyes light up, there is pure joy as he sees the world from your perspective.

✧ After the entdraught one of his first thoughts is of you.

✧ Pippin wants to be taller than you. When he sees you again he runs straight into you, pulling you into a hug and then seeing if he has to look up to meet your height.

✧ Is crushed when he realises you’re still taller than him. Although he is around 4’8” now - so there’s much less of a height difference.

✧ Can finally reach the same shelves you can, and gives you the items from them even if you were just getting them.

✧ Has tried to climb up a shelving unit before to get to the top shelves. It ended as well as you think it did.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Very surprised by your height, but also very enthusiastic. Didn’t think he’d ever be able to have conversation with a big folk without them constantly looming over him.

✧ Finally has someone other than Pippin he can show the little alcoves to, and then can spend time with them there.

✧ Every so often he’ll underestimate your height and you won’t be able to fit in - he’s always very apologetic when this happens.

✧ Only person who offers his cloak, and it’s actually a reasonable size for you. Slightly short but better than the other options, so you gladly take it.

✧ The thought of him being taller than you after taking the entdraught doesn’t even occur until he sees you again. Keeps his intentions fairly well hidden.

✧ Does the same thing he did with Pippin - ‘subtly’ measuring your height with his hand. Vehemently denies everything if caught doing it.

✧ Asks you about your tailors and if you own any patterns once he’s nearer your height. For the first few months you can see a lot of your stylistic choices find their way into Merry’s wardrobe.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelf if he could. Alas, he cannot - and he also values his dignity enough to not try and climb them.

✧ (Has secretly climbed them once with Pippin. The reason he doesn’t do it again is because he knows it will fail.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Still thinks you're tall enough for the height difference to be slightly intimidating. He isn’t scared of you, it just comes from the tallest person he knew before you being around four feet.

✧ Other than that he treats you as he would everyone else, most respectfully and always looking out for your best interests.

✧ You are the person he goes too instinctively if he needs someone slightly taller than himself. Is always very apologetic about it, and promises to make it up to you.

✧ Generally makes it up to you by giving you one of the best portions of whatever he’s cooked for the night. Often with ingredients you managed to find for him.

✧ Also searches places to see if they’ll have weapons of the correct size for you.

✧ Is just as good as the people actually trained in combat, although it’s because he’s closer to your height - not because of his martial prowess.

✧ After the cave troll fight you’re the one he goes too, shyly asking if you’ll give him a few lessons.

✧ Sam is a very diligent student, and always gives you a bright smile every time. Thanking you for letting him protect Mr. Frodo that bit better.

✧ Unfortunately, he needs you to get him things from the ‘high shelves’ - but he would certainly help you if he could.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Subtle and polite look of amazement the first time he sees you, internally checking your height compared to his.

✧ He is somewhat sad that you’re just too tall to appreciate a lot of his walking sticks. Does find one or two in Bilbo’s collection that could be given to you.

✧ Always touched whenever you find him a ‘walking stick’ esque branch, although it’s sometimes slightly too tall for him.

✧ Often points out flowers and other beautiful things to you and Sam, because you’ll have the best view of it.

✧ After Aragorn, you’re his go-too person to hide behind and ask for protection. He feels bad about it the first few times, but you’re always there to reassure him.

✧ You and Aragorn have both moved in front of Frodo for protection at the same time. Always a moment of awkward silence and then shuffling into a decent position for the both of you.

✧ When seeing you, Pippin, and Merry all laughing together - one of them reaching out and ruffling your hair - he is somewhat envious about them now being around your height.

✧ However, he’s also grateful that he’s kept the same height. So Frodo isn’t too sad about it.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelves, although in reality you need to fetch things for him.

A/N : Hopefully you enjoyed, not entirely sure why this one turned out so platonic. But I am making one for thorin's company and I'll try make that one more obviously romantic. Thanks so much for reading and requesting!

Update : Here is the one for Thorin's company <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 ✧ wish to be tagged?

#lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr headcanons #the fellowship x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #boromir x reader #pippin x reader #frodo x reader #merry x reader #samwise x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #headcanons #x short reader

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 4 months ago

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Round 3, Poll 4

Heart of the Mountain v. The Raven Prince

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK "KEEP READING".

Heart of the Mountain: (Evil Arkenstone AU)

“We need to prepare for the refugees from Esgaroth. See to it that we get supplies sent from the Iron Hills. The fact that we have the Arkenstone in our position should be enough for Dain.”

“I’ll see it done.” Balin stated softly.

He nodded as he slunk off somewhere he could talk to Bilbo in private. Something strange was going on and he feared what that meant for their brave little hobbit. He managed to get them out onto the ramparts before he pulled the Arkenstone back out, setting it on the ground in front of him.

“Bilbo?” He asked hesitantly.

For a long moment, nothing happened and Thorin feared he had truly lost the hobbit forever. Then the Arkenstone began to brighten and out popped the glimmering version of their burglar, brushing off his sleeves.

“Sorry, you won’t believe how crowded it is in there.”

Thorin cocked his head to the side, having so many questions, but deciding to ask the big one.

“What is going on?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know. What did that voice say? Something about gold?”

Thorin blinked, having almost forgotten about that.

“Dig deeper.” He repeated. “In the gold, your heart will finally be free.”

“Your heart?” Bilbo chirped. “Do you mean…me?”

Thorin couldn’t answer that. Not right now. He also couldn’t meet Bilbo’s eyes which he felt like was far more telling.

“The Arkenstone is referred to as the Heart of the Mountain. Perhaps it just means ‘your heart’ as in what is trapped inside the Arkenstone.” He offered up a pathetic excuse.

“Oh. Right.” Bilbo agreed.

However, Thorin was fairly certain he caught notes of disappointment in his voice. He felt his heart leap and decided that was worth exploring later.

“So we have to dig in the gold to get me free. The last line, something about a lock and key. So you have to put the Arkenstone in this thing you find.” Bilbo summed up.

“Not just dig in the gold.” Thorin murmured. “Dig deeper. We have to open the mines again.”

Bilbo snorted. “With thirteen dwarves? Most of which won’t understand because I no longer exist to them.

Thorin and Bilbo let the silence hang over them as the magnitude of the weighed on their shoulders.

“Thorin.” Bilbo finally began. “It’s not your fault. If…if we can’t do this…”

“No!” Thorin interrupted, holding Bilbo’s gaze. “You have never once given up on me. Not when you came back from the Goblin Tunnels, not when you saved me from Azog, not when you rescued us from an elvish prison. I won’t give up on you. There has to be something we can do.”

Bilbo’s expression softened at his declaration, hitting far too close to the thing Thorin would not give a name. Thorin’s gaze went back out over to the still burning Laketown in the distance. He felt his chest tighten. This was supposed to be the easy part. Where they finally could rebuild. His nephews beside him, and Arkenstone in hand as he called on Dain for masons and supplies.

The Raven Prince: (Swan Princess AU)

Thorin’s head felt heavy and his body…odd. What happened? Did he have too much to drink last night? He tried to piece together the fragments floating in his memory. He had been at a festival. Bilbo had been there…Bilbo had accepted his bead! A sort of contentment floated across his mind knowing he at least remembered the most important thing. But what happened after that? He had been summoned to the castle and then…

Cloaked figure…fire…magic…his father…

“ADAD!” Thorin cried, jumping to his feet.

At least he tried to jump to his feet. They weren’t sturdy under him like he was used to, and he jumped far too high to be normal. Also his voice. It wasn’t right. It was like a weird croak. Thorin’s gaze spun around his environment, trying to get his bearings. But he wasn’t in the throne room. He didn’t even think he was in Erebor at all! The stone was different and the treasures and gems glowing in the firelight weren’t crafted in their halls. Thorin tried to step forward when there was a tug at his foot. He looked down, only for a couple of things to catch up to him all at once.

The first was…this wasn’t his body. It was covered in dark feathers and his legs were thin and scaly. It was almost like he was…a bird. And the second thing that seemed to send him over the edge, there was a leather knot looped around one of his legs holding him tight. Thorin squawked, jumping again only to realize it wasn’t just a jump, he was flying!

“HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP ME!” He cried, but he couldn’t even understand the words as they left his…beak?

By Mahal, what was happening? Before he could spiral too far at the impossibility of his situation, the door at the other end of the room opened and a cloaked figure entered. Thorin glared. The sorcerer.

“My Prince,” He mockingly bowed. “So glad to see you awake.”

“What is this? What have you done to me?” Thorin demanded.

His voice came out as squawks and caws though which had the snake-like man smirking.

“Oh dear, that didn’t sound very polite. I suppose it is a bit too much for your…’bird brain’ to comprehend though.”

Thorin clapped his beak. Get his fingers anywhere near Thorin and he would show him ‘bird brain’. Smaug seemed to understand that much as he kept far out of Thorin’s reach moving to the other side of the room.

“You see, my little spell was meant for your father. Steal the king, weaken Erebor, come in and conquer all. I’m sure you get it.”

Thorin shivered. Conquer? His kingdom was in trouble!

“But honestly, this works out to my advantage.” The sorcerer continued to gush. “Because your father is consumed by grief, I will still have my war, and then I have my little puppet raven as a legitimate claim to the throne.”

“I’ll never be your puppet.” Thorin growled.

“And best of all, you won’t have a choice. There’s no escaping this spell except if I allow it.” Smaug grinned. “Poor little Prince Thorin.”

#birthday plot bunnies tournament #follower event #the hobbit #bagginshield #round 3 poll 4 #evil arkenstone au #swan princess au

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middleearthpixie · 1 year ago

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Something in the Night ~ Chapter Two

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory.

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it.

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

One Year Later

Nina hated rain. The only good thing about it was that if it fell hard enough, it muffled the sounds of her footsteps and that made sneaking up on people far easier. The downside was the mud sometimes pulled at her boots, it was slippery, and more than once, she lost her footing. More than once, she landed on her backside in the process.

That’s what happened this time. Lost her bloody footing and went sprawling arse over teakettle as her mother would say, and in the process, her bow went in one direction, her arrow in another, and she was damn lucky she didn't land on her own blade.

She lay there, staring up at the night sky, raindrops spattering her face and blinding her until she gathered her wits enough to at least sit up. The sodden ground soaked into her trousers, but she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to stand, as she’d knocked the wind out of herself when she hit the ground and was still a bit dizzy.

A stagger to her left. A stumble to her right. And finally, her head cleared enough for her to drag a damp sleeve over her face to wipe her eyes and a few minutes later, she’d found both her bow and the wayward arrow. More importantly, she’d also found her footing once more as well.

“A fool’s errand, this,” she muttered, jamming the bow back into the quiver, then hefted the quiver to slip over her shoulders. She wasn’t finding him tonight. Not in this downpour. No, the best thing to do would be to find shelter and hope the storms passed by dawn.

So, that’s what she did. She traipsed through the mud—carefully this time—until she reached the town of Dunning. It was small and rough, on the outskirts of the Wilderlands, where people didn’t ask names and minded their own business as if their lives depended on it, which it often did.

The Grey Bear was at the far end of the main road, which was sloppy and rutted and she slipped and slid what seemed the entire length of it before she was shoving herself through the front door.

Curious eyes flicked her way and then just as quickly flicked elsewhere, but she paid them little heed as she marched over to the bar. “A pint of your darkest stout, if you’d be so kind.”

“You got money?”

She slapped a gold coin onto the scratched and dinged wood. “Will this do?”

The barkeep arched an eyebrow, but fetched the stout and with a sigh of satisfaction, Nina shrugged out of her rain-beaded cloak to hang it on the nearest hook, then settled onto a barstool and took a long drink.

Sitting with her back to the room made her uncomfortable, so after a few minutes, when a table in a corner opened up, she hurried to snag it, setting with her back to that same corner. There she had a perfect view of the room and all who entered or left. Her gold coin bought her another pint and a bit of bread and cheese, so she ate, and as she did, she watched the room. The regulars, such as they were, weren’t much different from her. Some looked as if they’d been in jail until that morning, some looked as if they belonged living beneath a bridge, and others as if they would kill someone for looking at them the wrong way.

Perhaps they thought the same of her, for there were no second glances, no suddenly narrowed eyes. Heads turned, then bent back to who or whatever and she was forgotten, which was fine with her.

She was halfway through her second bowl of soup when Oakenshield and another dwarf stepped into the taproom, shaking the rain off their oilskins. The hunk of bread she was chewing caught in her throat as it turned into a hunk of glue and before she choked on it, Nina grabbed her pint to wash it down. Her gut twisted as he and the other dwarf, who was about the same height only bald and heavily tattooed, came into the taproom, gave a quick look about, then settled at a table nearest the crackling fire.

The room was far too crowded for her to make her move now, tempting though it was. She eyed her sword, resting against the wall to her left, her quiver on the floor next to it. Too many people around. She wasn't about to share the bounty with anyone and while she had no way of knowing if anyone else in that smoke-choked room had the idea to collect on it, she simply couldn't take the chance.

Which was unfortunate, really, for this was the closest she’d been to him since that night at the Master’s House, when she’d pushed her way through the crowd to the front, close enough to the dwarf that she actually managed to brush the back of his coat when he’d turned to go up the wide, bowing steps and into the ramshackle house that was still grander than any other ramshackle house in Esgaroth. The ends of his long, curly black hair swept along the back of her hand that night—softer than it looked, and as he’d turned, the light glanced off an ornament woven into a braid along the right side of his face. All she saw was it was silver and inscribed with lettering of some sort and then he’d moved up the stairs, into the house, and that was the last she’d seen of him.

The serving girl came by with a smile. “Get ye anything else?”

“Another pint, please.”

“Will do.”

Nina sat back, just watching the dwarfs and wondered if they could feel her stare, for the bald one’s back was to her, but every now and again, he’d turn and look about. Once, her gaze locked with his and she refused to look away before him. He cocked one brow, then slowly turned back toward Oakenshield. He hadn’t changed much since that snowy night. He looked a bit older, perhaps. There were hints of silver woven into his hair and threaded through his thick beard, but that was all.

Bastard was still strikingly handsome.

An image of Lenna lying on the sand, pale and lifeless, her glorious copper hair tangled like fishing net around her head, her skin marred by burns and cuts and bruises from falling debris, sprang into her mind. Without thinking, Nina reached for her sword, curled her fingers about the leather grip to tug it toward her.

Then they rose from their chairs and reached for their oilskins. The bald one tossed coins onto the table and they wove along through the crowd toward the door.

She couldn’t let them slip out into the rain. She’d never find them if that happened.

Keeping one eye on the dwarves, she slipped from her chair and grabbed her weapons with every intention of following them, when the serving girl stepped in front of her. “Ye didn’t pay yer bill, miss.”

“I’m coming back,” Nina said, rising onto her toes to keep her eye on Oakenshield and his mate. “Now, let me by. I need to speak with those men.”

The girl caught her by the elbow. “Not until ye pay yer tab, miss.”

“I said, I’m coming back.” Nina tried to shake her off. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Oh, no ye don’t! Yer not gettin’ away with it!”

The crowd that had parted for the dwarves closed back up and Nina bit back a growl of frustration as the door closed. “Fine!” she snapped, digging into her purse for another gold coin. She came up with it, grabbed the serving girl’s free hand to turn it palm up, and slapped the piece into it. “Happy now?”

“Aye. Yer free to go.”

“Thank you so much.” Nina shoved by her, shoved through the rest of the crowd, but as she burst out of the tavern and into the downpour, a swear rose to her lips. There was no sign of either one of them. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air the moment they stepped out of the tavern.

“Wonderful.” Nina drew the back of her wrist across her forehead, which only served to send more water droplets splashing against her cheeks.

Ah, well… it wasn't the first time she’d lost him and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. There was still plenty of distance between where she stood and Erebor.

Of course, that didn't meant she wasn't disappointed or frustrated, and so when she went back inside, she marched up to the bar and ordered a last pint, then inquired about a room for the night. There was nothing to be gained by attempting to find someone in a rainstorm, where she could fall and injure herself, or worse.

So, as much as she’d rather have gotten Oakenshield, this would have to do. And when she finished her pint and went above, she stood at the door, fighting with the key in the lock, and winced when it finally gave with a whine. The door creaked open and she managed a smile despite her gloomy thoughts. The room wasn’t much—small and a bit musty smelling, but it had a bed and a door that locked and that was a vast improvement over the last three nights of sleeping out on the ground.

Not to mention, it was dry. And she did find the patter of rain against the windowpanes rather soothing when she tried to sleep, so there was that.

After tossing the key onto the small, scratched and gouged table, Nina hung up her cloak to let it finish drying overnight, tugged the lone chair from the table and with a sigh, dropped into it. She was beyond tired. Beyond exhausted, really. Was there a word to describe beyond exhausted, because that was how she felt. Her eyes burned with fatigued and her first fully belly in days only made the drowsiness worse. She felt like a bear ready to hibernate, and so pulled off her boots and trousers, stripped off her tunic, and slid beneath the faded, also-slightly musty-smelling quilts, and closed her eyes.

****

She slept peacefully for the first time in months and when she opened her eyes, Nina actually smiled. Sunlight managed to find its way through the grime and smudges on the windowpanes to slant into the tiny room. She lay there for a long while, cozy and warm beneath the quilts. It reminded her of Sunday mornings, when Mama would allow them to sleep in and not worry about their chores until after luncheon. Sunday was her favorite day for that reason. Well, that and Mama’s Sunday meals, which far outshone anything she’d cook during the week, when both time and money were in short supply.

But Sundays… Sunday was the day where Mama would spend all afternoon cooking and the tiny house would be filled with the heavenly aromas of roasting meat—chicken, beef, or pork, depending on what the butcher had on sale—mingled with spicy pepper and or cinnamon or nutmeg or whatever spice blends Mama’s imagination led her to create. They’d have roasted vegetables to go with the meat, sometimes potatoes as well. And the leftovers would be use throughout the coming week, as they had to make what they had stretch.

She closed her eyes now, almost able to smell that tang, those blends, the soft blend of wet wood pilings and lake water wafting in through the drafty window on the far side of the room she shared with her sister.

But as she lay there, the smells faded and the voices she heard now were not those of the lake men moving along the walkways below her window. They were not the fishermen who made their living from the lake’s bounty or the slimy lackeys who licked the Master’s boots. These were not the voices of those she’d known her entire life, and whose lives she mourned in the wake of a single, terrible night.

Her eyes stung as the memory of the scent of cedar and lake-water darkened into fire and soot, into the acrid stench of scorched wood and melted flesh. The sounds of the voices below became the agonized screams of those enveloped in dragon fire and its aftermath.

She bolted upright as the images swam before her eyes, clouding them with tears almost as hot as that dragon fire. Her gut roiled, a brackish taste flooded her mouth, one she choked back the last thing she wanted was to be sick. Her purse was already dangerously light. The last thing she wanted or needed was to have the tavern owner add on to the room charge.

“Only a few more days,” she muttered as she threw back the covers and rose from the bed. Her trousers and tunic were thankfully dry, as was her cloak. She tried to open the window to see how cold the morning was, but the wood had swelled to the point where it wouldn’t budge. Two attempts yielded nothing, so she shrugged, slid the quiver onto her back and drew the cloak about her shoulders.

As she stepped out into the chill of a late-autumn morning, she shivered once and exhaled a puff of silvery mist. Only a few more days.

That was all she needed. A few more days, and she’d have Oakenshield. She’d march right into Gundabad with him as her prisoner and wouldn’t think twice as she collected the bounty on his head from Tarog. Once that happened, she would never have to worry about money again, the Mad King Thorin Oakenshield would pay for unleashing the dragon that wiped out her entire family, and she would be free from the memory and shadow that had haunted her since that awful night.

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance

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woahwierdly · 1 year ago

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I’ve feeling about making a fanfiction about a woman getting thrown into the hobbit trying to find her husband but also since it’s been so long maybe finding a new love? Let me know what you think!

I don’t own the hobbit this is merely fanfiction!

Thorin x OC

Emily fell into this world and her husband from her world fell in with her from what she thought, but she hasn’t been able to find him. See Emily had just married her best friend Mark but as they hiking up a mountain for a date they both fell into a cavern and it was lights out. When Emily awoke she was alone in a green field with small homes around her. The sun was high and it was the most beautiful place she’d even seen. Emily was wearing dark black jeans with combat boots, a burgundy hoodie, a thin rain jacket and a baseball cap. She had her old phone but that only lasted a day with her battery dying and she had her wallet with some photos of her family. She wondered for a bit before she found a green door. When she knocked on the door a little man name Bilbo Baggins opened the door. To say she was shocked was an understatement. She quickly realized she was in one of her favorite books. And as much fan-fiction as she read she thought she was going to save the line of Durin but…. Bilbo had just turned 57…. Meaning she had three years before the quest even started! Plus the fact she wanted to try to find Mark so she wouldn’t do it alone! But she had no means of travel, money or anything when she landed in the Shire besides the clothes on her back.

Her and Bilbo quickly made friends and he offered a room in BagEnd so she could get a footing. Within those three years she was gifted quite a nice bow set from Bilbo from Bree because she said she was an expert hunter which she was! Back in her world she often went hunting with her father or husband! She helped provide meat and get rid of a pack of wolves from BagEnd! Emily was quite helpful within the Hobbiton community. And it helped her make money for traveling or clothes. She first got five pairs of blue, a couple white cotton shirts, new boots, a traveling pack, arrows, a cloak with a hood made rain resistant. Now even though Emily and Bilbo were friends she kept her secret, never telling him her knowledge of what has yet to come, she wanted to meet with Gandalf and find her husband to return home…. If her husband is even in Middle Earth. She always wondered if Mark was here, alive or thought about her…. But she didn’t know.

All she knew was today was the day. It was Bilbos 60th birthday! Meaning Gandalf should be by today to inquisit some ideas to Bilbo.

She chuckled to herself not believing she been able to witness this world for three years, it went by so fast and now it’s almost time. Her arms ached with the want of going home and her head felt light. She was ready. As she was gathering rabbits for a stew Bilbo wanted she thought maybe I should have gotten more…for the company but she decided against it. This has to happened naturally well until Gandalf tells her to do soemthing.

It was afternoon by the time Emily left to go hunting and now it was dark, she should be able to see the mark and hopefully hear everyone’s voices or make it just after Balin.

She made her way through the quiet Hobbit town looking around she felt sad, she made a small but comfort life here. Made friends and helped more than she could have imagined. To be getting ready to leave left a small hole in her heart. Putting up her gloved finger to her eye Emily wiped off a small tear that threatened to fall. Chuckling to herself she couldn’t believe how attached she got. As she got closer to BagEnd she could hear Bilbo berating the pack of dwarves for pillaging the pantry.

Breathing in a deep of air, Emily had her hand on the door handle ready to start, and go back to her home. The door opened and the soft glow of lanterns lit the room and onto her face.

This is it. The adventure. The hope. Emily was ready. She would not fail saving the love of Durin, finding her husband and going home.

well??? Leave a review please! More chapter to come! I want it to be a slow burn? Hmmm have decided!::)

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #hobbit #thorins company #thorin x oc #thorin fic #the hobbit fic #romance #slow burn #fanfiction

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vee-vee-writes · 2 years ago

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I Need a Hero (Thorin x reader)

A/N: Potentially going to make this into a series if people are interested. Also I have finished a part 2 to Floral Arrangements but I am stuck away from my usual PC so it will be a week or so until I get it up sorry.

You’d heard tales of a lost prince trapped within his mountain home, guarded by a fire breathing dragon. Legend said that the one to free Prince Durin would be blessed by Mahal himself to eternal happiness and all the other joys a dwarf could imagine. It was then of no surprise to you that the remining Dwarf Lords sent their sons and daughters to free the dwarven prince. None were successful and no word had been heard from them since.

What shocked you was your Lord’s command, sending you to try to recover the prince. You were a member of the royal guard, but you certainly weren’t the most notable of the guard by any means. Going would be a death sentence but refusing your Lord’s request was treason of the highest degree. With heavy reluctance you undertook the two-day journey to Erebor.

You found yourself at the foot of the mountain, wondering if this place would be your tomb. A cold stone mausoleum. With your mule tied down you made your way to the makeshift rickety wooden bridge up to the entrance. The original stone bridge and much of the entrance had fallen away, whether to time or the dragon’s rampage you were not sure. From the size of the hole in the entrance, you assumed that the dragon had smashed through it on the day of the siege. To survive this, you would have to have your guard up.

Creeping forward through the entrance you began to survey the interior entrance, looking for some sign of where you should go. Your Lord had shown you an old map of Erebor from during its heyday. Amongst the litter of broken stones, melted metal, and scattered skeletal bones you saw what looked to be a large stone sign laying amongst it. Scanning around you saw no sign of life. Taking this as a sign you stealthily crept over to read it. MARKET. THRONE ROOM. GREAT HALL. LIVING QUARTERS. ROYAL WING – were all marked out on the sign. Your mental map of the mountain layout was somewhat correct, you would need to head down the left-hand tunnel to the royal wing. The entrance to the wing was further back in the room,

Heading to the left wing you began climbing over a pile of rubble to get through the entrance. The material was like nothing you had ever felt before, firm underhand and unshifting. It was not until the pile moved, letting out a chuckle that made you freeze in place. “Of all the witless fools who have entered my mountain, never have I had one practically walk into my jaws” the pile puffed in amusement. Scrambling off to the other side and tumbling to your feet in the hallway of the beginning of the royal wing you began to run. “Flee, flee, run for your life, there is nowhere to hide from my fiery death.”

The pile had not been a pile at all but the great dragon Smaug who had cloaked himself in shadows. Looking over your shoulder as you fled you looked on in horror as the dragon began to force his body through the doorway, cracking the stone to fit his bulbous body through. Facing forward once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and mustered all the strength and will within yourself to continue faster without looking back, skidding around corners without slipping over.

After an eternity of running, you came before a door at the end of the long corridor. You heard the dragon in the distance behind you, wriggling its body down the corridor like a great wyrm. Not wanting to take the chance that he may catch you, you pushed the great oaken door open and slipped in.

The golden torch light took you off guard, you hadn’t expected to actually find the prince let alone find him by mistake. A large spacious suite was laid out before you, completely untouched by the devastation you’d seen in the entrance way. On one of the couches staring at you in awe was a dark haired and bearded dwarf of substantial build and handsome profile. You were unsure of what to say to him.

It was he who broke the silence, “Sixty-years. Sixty-years I have not seen another living soul though I have heard the echoes of their screams. Thank you, I am indebted to you. Who may I call my hero.” Smiling warmly at the young prince you answered his query, “I am (Y/N) of (Y/K/N). I was sent by my Lord to recover you your highness.” “(Y/N)” he tasted the syllables of your name on his tongue, “a noble name.” Never had you heard of a noble of your name but for the sake of argument you agreed, you would need the co-operation of the prince if the two of you were to survive.

“Tell me (Y/N)” he paused, “how did you slay the beast?” A loud grumbling roar reverberated on the stone surrounding the pair of you, the dragon neared. Thorin stared at your slacked jaw in disbelief. “You didn’t slay the dragon! The prophecy says you are supposed to slay the dragon before you rescue me” Thorin snapped, “no, no, no, this is all wrong.” “We don’t have time for this your highness. We have to go” you pleaded motioning to the window, "or do you want to be stuck here for another sixty years." Pulling his lips back in a snarl Thorin grunted, “you’ve given me no choice. What’s your plan?” “Where does this window lead?” you questioned. “The courtyard after the entrance. It was built to wow our foreign visitors.”

“Exactly where we need to be. If that doesn't work, we head for the secret tunnel. That's our escape. We just have to avoid the dragon until we reach it. I doubt he knows of its existence.” You mused. “Secret tunnel?” Thorin questioned doubtfully. “Mmhm. Built by Thror when he founded your mountain home and kept secret from all but his heir. I’m surprised that he never told you of it. Though I’m sure when it came time, Thrain would have told you all the Kingly secrets of this place” you affirmed to Thorin, “come now, enough talking. Let’s tie the sheets together and escape your stone prison.”

The two of you worked quickly together knotting sheets, cloak, and shirt alike to make a long enough chain to escape the tower. You scaled the tower first, checking for any sign of the dragon before beckoning the prince down. Neither of you dared call out for fear of alerting Smaug to your scheme. Instead, you crept into the airy silence, staying low to the ground out of fear of being spotted.

The longer the two of you crept in silence, the more worried the two of you grew. It was the clatter of golden coins bouncing off the stone floor beside you that shook the two of you. Simultaneously your eyes met the prince’s, both wide as dinner plates, before gazing up to the dragon's belly above you as he slunk through the castle.

The two of you lay prone on the floor mapping out the course the dragon was taking. Crawling close to Thorin you pressed in against his side and leaned over to whisper into his ear, "We follow the dragon. Keep low, keep quiet. It's heading in the direction we need to go." Thorin nodded in response and the two of you headed off, crawling after the dragon.

You crept like that for what felt like hours, scared even to breathe too loudly, and alerted the dragon to your presences. Finally, the dragon stopped just before the gate, staring out over the nearby land, likely surveying for the two of you. Thorin nudged you and gestured at a cove of rock that the two of you could cover in. With a firm nod the two of you made your way over and got comfy, waiting the dragon out. It would be easier to wait him out than it would to make for the hidden entrance now.

Though it seemed that Thorin didn't quite have the same idea. Instead, the darrow grabbed a huge hunk of broken rock, vaulting it as far as he could back into the entrance way before quickly hunkering in with you. Smaug's head snapped around to the source of the sound and he began to stalk across towards it. Neither of you had expected was for the dragon to pause before whipping around and breathing molten fire across the entrance way debris. With a satisfied smirk he turned back around and stomped down the hallway, disappearing around the corner into the darkness.

"What now" Thorin whispered harshly. "We could have waited him out" you grumped with a pointed look, "but now we have to find another way up and out around the fire." Thorin sighed with a defeated look and nodded, gesturing for you to take the lead. "Move as fast as you can while still being quiet. The last thing we want to do is tip the beast off to our location, he's already suspicious of us" you affirmed before taking the lead out towards the flaming gate.

You scanned frantically around the entrance looking for a way around the flame. Thorin gripped your shoulder, "focus." Drawing a deep breath, you narrowed your focus. Homing in on the wall you found an old half rusted chain fixed to one of the walls. "That's our way out come on."

A tug on the chain caused it to groan but it stayed fixed in place. Signaling upwards you spoke to Thorin, "You first. I'll stay down here and keep looking out as you climb." "Let me get this straight, you want me, the crown prince, to climb an old, rusted chain up a forty-foot wall hoping that a) I don't fall and b) that I don't get spotted by a fire breathing drake that you failed to kill" Thorin huffed. Smiling sarcastically, you answered, "exactly. Now unless you want to be stuck here even longer, get up the wall. Besides there's no guarantee that the chain will hold two of us."

Rolling his eyes at you Thorin begrudgingly took the chain and began scaling the wall. On edge you clenched your teeth, scanning for any sight of the scaly magot. Groaning of the chain caused your breath to catch in your throat. While you wanted the prince out of the mountain and safe, you hardly wanted to be stuck within the mountain crawling around looking for another way out while the dragon stalked around looking for you. You leaned tensely against the wall, begging your body and mind to calm themselves for the sake of your survival.

The familiar clink of a coin hitting the concrete shot you out of your thoughts, though this time it bounced and rolled to land off to your side. Frightenedly, you cast your eyes upwards only to find Thorin at the top of the wall trying to signal he was ready for you to make your way up. Grabbing the chain you began the climb, hauling yourself up your limbs groaning as the tension was forcefully stretched out of them. Higher and higher you climbed, stopping only briefly to steady your grip on the vertical drop. All the time you stared upwards to the top of the wall, meeting the prince's anxious gaze.

Nearing the top Thorin reached an arm down to you, helping you over and up on the top of the exterior wall. The two of you smiled briefly at one another as he helped you up to your feet. You watched his face change as he looked out over the remains of Dale and the changed wilds. Most would have turned their noses up in horror, but Thorin gazed on in wonder, the edges of his mouth turning up into an appreciative smile. He hadn't seen the outside world since the Sack you realised. You knew it was only a small gesture, but you laid a comforting hand on his, stroking his palm gently. Thorin looked at you tenderly, taking in the touch of another being and the sight of your hand within his. "Welcome back to the world Thorin Durin."

Taglist: @awkwardspontaneity @midearthwritings @thewhiteladyofrohan @kami-chan1512 @fizzyxcustard @kpopgirlbtssvt @sadndnboii-reads @tschrist1 @shethereadinghobbit @lathalea _@theblogofdurin @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @ferns-fics

#thorin #thorin x reader #thorin fanfiction #young thorin #thorin oakenshield #prince thorin #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x you #prince thorin x reader #thorin and company #thorin fic #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #hobbit #shrek inspired???#the hobbit fic #lotr

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