#the hobbit fanfic

[blairsanne]

Thank you so much! I don’t think I’ve read this one since I posted it. I completely agree about music connecting people 🥰

5: Music

Drabbles for December based on this prompt list.

The Hobbit - OC, Kili, Bofur Based on my 'An Unexpected Blue Wizard' fanfic.

One of the things that Andréa loved about Rivendell was the music. There were talented musicians among the elves, and she felt she could listen to them play all evening.

The dwarves in Thorin’s Company weren’t as fond of the elven music.

Andréa left her meeting with Lord Elrond and wandered the open halls toward where the Company was to spend the night. She glanced up at the stars, noting the pale moon in the sky, and thought briefly of her mother.

As she continued on, she could hear a flute being played, and laughter that could only belong to dwarrow. She came upon the company - save Bilbo and Thorin - sitting around a fire they’d made on one of the balconies.

“Oh, I’m sure Lord Elrond would have provided fuel,” she quipped, noting the broken furniture being used as tinder.

“It happened to break,” Kili offered quickly. “Mm.” She raised her brows and nodded, not convinced but also not pressed by it.

She sat down on the floor, leaning back against the lounger that Kili was laying on, smoking his pipe. He patted her head softly and puffed, looking over to where Bofur started singing another song. This one was less raucous, and spoke of the beauty of the Blue Mountains. Andréa let out a soft sigh, pulling her knees up to her chest as she listened.

When he finished, the group cheered their approval. “It sounds like a lovely place, Bofur.” Andréa offered. “I should like to see it sometime.” “Oh, aye, but I don’t suppose we’ll be back that way for an age once we reclaim Erebor, eh lads?” More cheering.

“Do you play any instruments, Peony?” Kili asked, tapping Andréa on the shoulder. “Mm, I do.” She shrugged. “The lyre, though I don’t have one.” “Och, we found loads of instruments!” Bofur darted off to a nearby room and came back with a lyre in hand. “Play us something, eh sweet pea?”

Andréa began to protest, but the dwarves spoke over each other, a loud chorus of demand. “Fine, fine.” She sighed and stood over near the fire, lyre in hand. “It’s not a dwarf song, so it may not please you…”

She closed her eyes and began to pluck a slower, melancholic tune.

Seeing her against the backdrop of Rivendell, playing an elven lyre, Kili felt the divide between them once more. Her beardless face and dainty fingers seemed perfectly at home in the hidden valley, and he wondered briefly what she saw in him or the company. Much like Gandalf, their backup wizard seemed to fit right in in this foreign land.

After a moment, her sweet voice rang out clear and soft over the music.

Each road I take makes me anew Though far they lead away from you As starlight, or in sparks of flame I pray your love will light my way

I walk two worlds, belong to none Though I am not the only one To battle or to friendly hearth I keep my oath and prove my worth

All those I meet shall be called friend Until I am alone again No heart of stone, for stone erodes And I find love on stranger roads

She plucked a little longer, and when she stopped, the silence that had fallen over the group threatened to swallow her until Dori spoke up. “Lovely, my dear.”

Suddenly they were all speaking over each other, trying to think of nice things to say as she waved off their compliments on her way back to Kili. “You flatter me too much, please.”

Kili moved so she could sit beside him instead of on the ground. “Here, you must be cold as usual.” He offered her the blanket that was draped on the back of the seat.

“Oh, thank you.” She wrapped it around herself and smiled as Fili started singing a rowdy pub tune and the others joined in. Her heart felt full as she took in their shared grins, feeling the kinship between the dwarrow and reveling in their joy.

Kili wrapped his arm around her and sang along, looking into her eyes as though to teach her the words with a crooked grin across his face. “And there they brew a beer so brown-”

There in his embrace, Andréa suddenly decided that she much preferred dwarven music after all.

---

December Drabbles Masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

[faeriichaii]

hii!!

i was wondering if you could write kili x gn!reader where the reader wants to braid kili’s hair and they have no idea what that means to dwarves and kili lets them braid his hair. later the other dwarves notice and tease kili about it cause he’s clearly in love with the reader.

thank you sm<33

Braiding Lessons ~ Kili x Reader

A/N: Omg Kili request!!! I love him and I am such a sucker for this plot!! so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do omg!! Also funfact but I almost deleted everything that I wrote during my roadtrip cause I was so unsatisfied with it ;-; Which is probably why it took me so long to actually publish it yikes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.0k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋAmrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You always knew dwarves had various beautiful braids, but how come Kili doesn't? So one night you decide to change that and help him out.

You tilted your head to the side, as you let your eyes skim over the various dwarves, whom you were accompanying on their journey. Being the only human, surrounded by one hobbit and several dwarves definitely let you notice a few differences about their culture to your own. For example, they could eat almost double their size almost as if they have two stomachs. They also tend to not care much about their appearance. Except of course their beards and hair in general. They take care of it almost as if their life depended on it. One detail that definitely stood out to you were the different braids that decorated each of them. You remember once staring at Fili, while he undid his small beard braids just to redo them.

“How come dwarves always have braids in their hair?” You once asked him. He smiled at you and continued weaving his fingers through his hair. “Braids are very important to us dwarves. Which is why we rarely let others touch our hair.”

Ever since that day you have noticed the intriguing designs and ways each of the dwarves intertwined their strands. Except for one. Kili was the only dwarf who seemed to be lacking any kind of braid and you have been wondering why that is. You also once asked Fili about it but he wouldn’t answer you. Maybe he doesn’t know how to braid? And he is too embarrassed to ask others for help? Observing Kili, who was laughing along his brother to some jokes, you quickly let that thought settle in your mind. He doesn’t know how to braid and you were determined to change that.

So later that afternoon you bribed Fili to change his night shift with yours (which cost you a few of your travel snacks), in order to spend some time with Kili. You wanted to teach him how to braid and due to the fact that it is quite a sensitive topic to dwarves you wanted to make sure that nobody else would notice the two of you. So as soon as the sun set and the snores of your companions filled your ears, you made your way to Kili. He was perched upon a log which was behind the campfire that slowly burned down. His hands were carefully crafting something delicate, which you didn’t quite see in the dark. “What are you working on?” You asked him, taking a seat beside him. His gaze swerved from the item between his fingers to you. A smile graced his lips.

“It’s a surprise.” He quickly put the item into a small pouch that was secured to his pants. “I thought Fili was supposed to be my night-watch-partner?” “He was but I wanted to switch with him.” A smirk formed on his lips, before he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case I will make sure that this will be the best night of your life.” Blushing at the double meaning behind his words, you tried to separate your body from his. Of course, not because you didn’t enjoy him being so close to you, but because you were in desperate need of some cold air to cool you down and sort through your thoughts.

“I just wanted to ask you if I could braid your hair.” A dumbfounded expression accompanied by a gentle blush fell over his face. “I know you probably were just embarrassed to ask any of the others for help when it comes to braiding your hair and knowing that you don’t know how to I just-“ His laugh interrupted your rambling. “You think I can’t braid my hair?” You nod. “(Y/N), that is one thing we dwarves get born with. No dwarf in this world knows how not to braid hair.” “But why do you never braid yours? Fili told me they were incredibly sacred and important in your culture.” A blush dusted his cheeks as he stared into the campfire.

“Simple. Nobody has asked to braid my hair before.” Your hand moved to his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “But I just asked to braid your hair. So please, let me take care of you.” He smiled at you and moved one leg over the log so his whole body was facing yours. You let your fingers comb through his soft hair a few times, before taking a strand and dividing it into three sections. Weaving your fingers through the wafts, you made sure to be gentle while also ensuring that there won’t be any bumps or strands sticking out of your small braid. After you have reached the end of his hair, you took out one of your slim leather straps and tied it at the end. Your gaze wandered from the braid to Kilis eyes and you realized how close the two of you have been this whole time. “Thank you Amrâlimé. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You let your gaze wander to your hands in your lap while a shy smile graced your face. “Of course. I am glad you like it.” Kili put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. A bright smile framed his face. “Now it is your turn.”

The next morning the company as well as you quickly packed up their belongings to get back on their journey. While talking with Balin about some of the dwarvens history, you suddenly heard a gasp from behind you. “You never told me about this Kili!” Fili held up a braid between them both. “When did this happen?” “Last night while you-“ “What is going on back there?” Thorin asked, slowly approaching the princes. “Kili finally got his braid! Probably by someone he seems enamoured with.” Fili teases, while letting go of his brother’s hair. A blush dusted Kilis cheeks, as well as your own as the words settled in.

“Was about time they tied the knot.” Dwalin let out a boisterous laugh at Balins words. Tilting your head to the side, you moved your attention to Kili. “What does he mean by that?” “(Y/N) doesn’t even know? You didn’t even explain it?” Fili asked, flabbergasted at the newfound information. “I hadn’t had the time yet.” Kili turned towards you and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “But I will explain it to you when the time is right.” His radiant smile was enough reassurance for you. You will wait, until he is ready to explain the meaning behind the dwarvish braiding custom.

[shiinata-library]

Imagine them telling you they love you

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when they tell they love you

A/N: My imagines become more and more ficlets and we now have 4k words of it… Make you comfortable, and enjoy!

[ 📚 Main Imagines Masterlist 📚 ]

Fíli

On a cold winter evening under the lonely mountain, two princes are talking over an ale, one of them in a better mood than the other. “I should never have done that,” you hear Fíli sighs, his face hidden in his arms crossed on a table. “It’s too late, brother,” Kíli laughs as he drinks his ale.

It has been a while since you’re friends in this pub. There is only one pub since the rebuilding of Erebor was still ongoing. The place is busy, and princes or not, Kíli and Fíli drink here every Friday night. 

When you entered, you wanted to surprise them and you were waiting for the right moment to join them, but you didn’t expect they would talk about you. Especially about this subject…

“You were drunk, both of you,” Kíli resumes. Fíli gets his head off his arms and sighs again “Drunk or not, you don’t sleep like that with your…”. Someone shouts in the pub while he finishes his sentence. “As if you regret it,” Kíli laughs. “Stop that Kíli!” Fíli shouts seriously.

They should change the subject now, right? But, should you really join them after that? Then you hear “There are things I regret in my life, but this is the worst and you–”. A group of happy dwarves shout a new time their happiness while you freeze. Kíli is looking at you, as surprised as happy to see you. He speaks to his brother while you already start to run away. You don't see Fíli hit the table with his fist even less standing up so suddenly that he spills his beer all over his brother.

You literally run away until you're almost home. In two streets, you will be in the cosy place Thorin gave you under his mountain. Your steps slow down as you realise how stupid you are to think everything could be the same after àthat. You suspected that Fíli avoided you since you spent a night together, and you have your answer. It's clearly unnecessary to talk more to him. It was a mistake. Period. 

Maybe it could be different if you could have talked the next morning. If only he wasn’t a prince, he wouldn’t have early duties every morning. Especially when he was in your bed! Who sends a guard to fetch someone in the bed of his… his what anyway? You’re just his friend. Well, “was” now.

When you’re almost arrived at your place, you hear your name shouted from afar. You could recognise this voice everywhere, so you quickly hide in the first street you see. Except that before being a prince, Fíli was a warrior, and you can’t escape a warrior that easily… Even though you take another way to go home, someone grabs your wrist when you arrive at your front door. Of course, it’s Fíli. And not a happy Fíli. Everyone who’s walking in the street is looking at you since everyone knows Erebor’s heir.

“Listen Fíli. I don’t want a drama. Like you said, let’s forget. And if you don't want to see me again, well, I understand,” you say as you try to get back your wrist. “No. We need to talk. Let's inside,” he simply says as he opens your front door and leads you inside.

After lighting a few candles, you put the last one on the table. You barely turn toward Fíli that he is already in front of you, not leaving you the time to say anything. He clears his voice and you notice how he is nervous. You never see him like that. Not even when he speaks to Erebor’s people officially. “First, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier to talk to you since that night. I had a lot to do but the main reason is I was ashamed.” You repeat the last word he said, unstable to keep your surprise. Yet, he continues, his eyes looking at the candle, “I should never sleep with you. We were drunk.” “Yes, we were drunk, but not enough not to know what we were doing,” you say seriously. His eyes turn now to yours, “Yes, maybe, but I should court you first.” He runs a hand on his face as if it could help him to breathe better while your heart starts to beat stronger. When his eyes come back to you, your heart stops beating. Were his eyes always so mesmerising?

“We, Dwarves, always court their One first. I know Men do differently, but I shouldn’t touch you like that. But your dress… Mahal, you were stunning in this dress that night. I behaved like an idiot… Mahal, I really do blame myself,” he pauses for a breath. A murmur escapes your lips, “their One?”. Something changes in his eyes. You swear they looked at your lips before coming back to your eyes. “Am I your One?” you eventually ask in a quiet tone. “Yes, you are. I have loved you since I saw you. But I also know Men’s mores and I don't expect anything from you,” he declares in a serious, almost sad, tone. “You love me?” you stupidly ask, still stunned by his words.

A smile appears on Fíli’s face. The first smile since that night. A chuckle escapes his lips as his fingers find your cheek, warming it with the memories of what they have done to you. “Are you just going to keep questioning me?” he laughs, his moustache’s braid bouncing. You laugh too, the whole tension vanishing. “Even if I’m of Men, I only sleep with the person I love,” you shyly say. That's all it takes for Fíli to kiss you, this time with  all the love he has for you.

Kili

Since you joined Thorin’s company, you have made friends with Fíli and Kíli. The time you enjoy the most is after dinner. They tell stories about their childhood in the Blue Mountains or some anecdotes about everyone while you tell them about your world. Like them, you can’t stay quiet for a long time, so most of the time the others shout at you to go somewhere else to talk. Which you do. 

Fíli is always the first to go to sleep. That’s why the others don’t make fun of him when you barely can open your eyes in the morning when it's time to leave…

Talking with them at night has become routine and when you arrive in Rivendell, without having to worry about the next day, you spend your first sleepless nights with them. After some time, Fíli doesn’t stay with you late less and less since Thorin seems to need him more and more in the morning.

As the quest goes on, you can’t speak with Kíli in the evening. Fatigue, injury, watches, cold, danger, it seems that everything is trying to avoid you to enjoy your evening. Little by little, there comes a time when you can’t remember the last time you had a long conversation with Kíli and you miss it terribly. During the day, you make some jokes but it’s not the same.

So, as soon as you’re feeling safe, you can’t keep your tongue, you and of course Kíli. The first night at Beorn after Gandalf introduced everyone, you and Kíli spoke all night. So much time to make up! Fíli joined you for the first hour, but he quickly abandoned you.

The next morning, it takes you some time to remember where you are. You hear some voices from afar, but according to the bright sun, it must be late, especially since everyone is already up. Everyone except Kíli still sleeping next to you. Well… Behind you. His arm around your waist. His hand on your stomach. His head buried in your hair… He is too close, right? You can even feel his breathing in your neck. Should you stay like this? You definitely can’t move without waking him up, and you don’t want to wake up in this position. Especially with your cheek as red as a tomato.

But… Breakfast is calling you. As soon as you try to move his hand, his arm holds you stronger, your back pressed against his hard chest. He eventually grumbles, “Don’t move.” You chuckle, “But they won’t leave us anything to eat.” He laughs too, but doesn't seem to move. You wait, trying to find a good idea to wake him up until he says in a sleepy voice, “I want to wake up like this everyday…”. You stay still a moment before turning to him and joking, “Without breakfast?”. His answer doesn’t wait, “With you. In my arms. Every morning.”

Oh. Well. You want it too, but it sounds complicated, right? A woman of Men, a Dwarf prince. Plus, you’re poor. Oh and useless as well. You still don’t know what you’re doing in this quest.

Tired of waiting for your reaction or your answer, Kíli suddenly sits up, his arms crossed on his chest, his hair in a mess, but above all, his frowning eyebrows. “I was saying that I love you, you know?” he says in an upset tone. “Don’t joke with that Kíli,” you sigh, starting to feel hurt with a joke like this so early on a morning that was starting off so well. He already joked about this in the past, flirting with you randomly. He even already kissed you without saying anything afterward. Well, maybe because you almost died and you didn’t have the time to talk about this but…

“I’m not joking! I truly love you!” Now he’s not frowning, his eyes look sincere. You want to believe him. “But you always joke about that,” you grumble in a pouting face. “Not about this. Never. Amrâlimê, I kissed you after we ran from the gobelins because I was so scared of losing you. I couldn't see you and I thought you had stayed behind. When I saw you, I couldn't control myself…” You stop pouting, hoping he says the truth. “Really?” you ask in a shy tone. “Really,” he confirms, a smile widening on his lips. You can't resist a smile like that. “Because I love you too, and if you lie, I’ll–” Of course you can’t finish your sentence. As soon as Kíli hears your words, he leans over you and kisses you. He begins slowly, barely brushing your lips, but when you kiss him back, his ardour takes over. As one of his hands keeps him from falling on you, the other one begins to touch your hip. Even though you would love to continue, you were thinking of stopping him when the door of your makeship dormitory opens. “It's nearly midday! Time to get up, night owls!” Fíli exclaims until he sees what his brother is doing. “Alright, pretend I didn't come,” he says as he turns towards the door. “But I won't be able to hold the others back for long.” He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Kíli laughing like teenagers caught in the act.

Bilbo 

During the quest, you easily became friends with Bilbo. He is a charming person, and you and he have a lot of things in common. Little by little, you understand your feelings for him were more than friendship, but you stayed quiet about it, the quest was too important to think about anything else. After the success of Erebor's quest, Thorin, the new king, offered you and Bilbo to live under the lonely mountain. Bilbo missed too much his home to stay here. Yet, he promised to visit them one day. For you, the choice was harder. The mountain seemed great. You would be glad to help with the rebuilding, but without Bilbo, it wouldn't be the same. So you decide to follow him. 

It's obviously impossible for you to live in the Shire, so you have settled in the closest Men’s town: Bree. You have found a correct job and people are nicer than you would have thought. For visiting Bilbo, it's 6 days walking from door to door, but you quickly decided to use a horse. (You really miss trains and buses…) So now you live two days' ride, you visit him when you can. Bilbo offered to visit you in Bree, but with his ponies’ allergy, you prefer coming to the Shire. 

The Shire is beautiful, even more than all Bilbo told you during the quest. He always finds something interesting to show you. Hike, food, drink, festivities, landscape, market, watching the sky with Old Toby,... You enjoy every time you spend with him. At first, Hobbits looked at you strangely, but now, you could say you have drank tea with all of Bilbo's neighbours. Lucky for you, the closest inn of Bag End, the Green Dragon Inn, has one room at Men’s size, which you found weird until Bilbo explained it’s usually Gandalf’s room.

One summer evening, you’re dining in that very inn with Bilbo after a long hike in the east, on an outside table, the wind glowing softly on you. “I’m glad you’re here,” Bilbo says as he finishes his meal. “You always worked during the summer’s festivities and I always wanted to see you.” “Oh, no. Don’t tell me it begins tomorrow…  But I’m leaving tomorrow!” you sadly sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I thought you knew,” Bilbo says as it was obvious. “It’s the same dates every year. And you saw the tent and everything under the Party Tree, didn't you?” “I thought it was over... Wait here, I'll check with Mr Whitfoot if I can stay in the room tomorrow night.”

Unlike usual, Bilbo is unable to read your face when you come back to your conversation with Mr Whitfoot, the innkeeper of the Green Dragon. “The bad news is I can’t have the room, but the good news is because Gandalf reserved it,” you smile bitterly,  already regretting not going to the summer festivities with Bilbo.

“You can stay at Bag End. I have enough room for you,” he said with a little nervousness in his voice. You notice his embarrassment and you don’t want to impose yourself at his home. “I don't want to disturb you, I’ll think of it tonight and I’ll answer you tomorrow morning,” you explain with a smile. “You won’t disturb me at all, but alright, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he says, finally smiling again like usual.

Of course, you accept to stay at Bag End. The festivities, Gandalf, sleeping in Bag End, just next door to Bilbo’s, waking up together, eating breakfast together, like a married couple. Alright, let’s stop now!

Gandalf is still the same. You spend a part of the night chatting with him and Bilbo, with some other curious young hobbits. At some point, after eating and drinking too much, you both decide to go back to Bag End. The night was very fun – despite Lobelia intervention when she learned you were staying in Bag End. In Bilbo’s smial, you still can hear the laughs and the music from the Party Tree. “You’re sure I can stay here? Your cousin, Lobelia didn’t seem happy about it,” you joke as you’re taking off your shoes. “According to the latest news, Bag End is still my home,” he grumbles as you’re unable to hide your smile, enjoying his reactions every time you talk about Lobelia. “She can say whatever she wants, it’s my home!” He could have grumbled a long time if you hadn’t burst out laughing. “Alright. I get it,” he sighs before laughing with you. You both are tipsy and you continue to laugh until you reach your room.

“If you need anything, I'm just in the room next door,” he smiles as you enter the guest bedroom. If you weren’t as tired and as tipsy, you would have noticed the room has changed. The room is at your size. Both the ceiling and the furniture. “You know your home by heart. I could make tea with my eyes closed!” you laugh, not noticing Bilbo’s cheek becoming pink at your words. “But thank you for letting me sleep here. Nights are not cold, but I never say no to a bed when I can have one!” “You’re welcome. Don’t forget to wake up early if you want breakfast,” he says, smirking. You can’t count how many times you miss the first breakfast in the Shire.

Do you wake up late? Yes. Of course. The bed is so comfortable, the room is so quiet, the smell is so good… with a little touch of bread, tea, jam, egg,... You jump out of the bed and hurry up to the kitchen. Bilbo is smiling, “Good morning.” Has Bilbo been waiting for you? It’s the first time you have breakfast with him since the quest is over, and something feels different now. The table looks so perfect. How many times have you dream of waking up here like that? 

“Do you want tea?” he asks as he takes the kettle off the heat. “Good morning,” you murmur as you sit down on a chair at your size. As you’re half-asleep, you don’t notice you’re still in nightdress, light for summer nights, but Bilbo did. Oh, he did, and that’s why he shakes his head as he repeats his question. “Yes, absolutely!” you exclaim with a broad smile. “I never saw a table like that for breakfast! So many dishes! Bombur would be jealous of your cooking skills! I’m glad to be hungry! Everything looks so good! Can I try each plate?” you ask with great enthusiasm, perhaps a little too much. “Oh, sorry. I’m very loud for a morning. It’s rude and annoying…” Bilbo sits in front of you with two cups of tea. Despite your behaviour, he looks happy. The morning rays of light gently illuminate his hair and face. You could easily get used to this every morning...

“Not at all. I've had mornings noisier than this,” he smiles as he sips his tea. “And yes, you can eat everything you want.” “Don’t say that or I’ll really eat everything,” you laugh as you spread jam on your buttered toast. “I don't even have a third of this table in Bree, when I have breakfast. I mean, at home.” You still don’t use to live in Bree as your home.

“I can make breakfast like this whenever you want,” he says in a too serious tone for a morning as you’re savouring one of his cheeses. “I’d love to, but I don’t think I can stay another night. I have to go back to work,” you say, a little sad not to enjoy another night here, and another breakfast. A long silence makes you feel that something is wrong. Bilbo is too quiet for such a morning. You raise your head from your plate to see him looking at his tea, turning his spoon in his cup endlessly. “If you stayed here, you could have breakfast whenever you like,” he says quietly. You’re about to repeat your former answer, but Bilbo doesn’t give you the time to do it.

 “I wasn’t talking about tomorrow. I mean, yes, I’d love you to stay tomorrow, but I meant for all the mornings. I mean. Oh Yavanna, I’m ridiculous…” As he talks, he gets so upset that he gets to his feet and comes to stand in front of you, one fist clenched and the other hand pointing at you with his spoon. He breathes a last time before looking at you, his eyes eventually softening. “If you want to, I would love you to live in Bag End with me.”

You’re speechless first. Then, “I can’t. I mean, I’m of Men. No one wants somebody like me here,” you sigh as you look at your feet, feeling your tears welling up. “I want to,” Bilbo says, determined, as he takes your hands. “And I'm sure all the hobbits you know won't object. The whole Shire has realised a long time ago how I felt about you and they've all accepted you already.” “Your feelings?” you suddenly ask, your eyes searching for an answer in his eyes before his words. Yet, his eyes frown. “I wouldn't ask you to move to Bag End if I didn't love you. I'd even offer to make you a breakfast every morning, I don't know what more you need…”

At this point, you can't hold back your laughter. Before his upset face, you react quickly. Pulling on his hands, he steps towards you close enough to feel his fringe caress your forehead. “I need a morning kiss, and I’d stay here forever,” you murmur. His cheeks become redder than ever and his hands become sweaty, but when he decides eventually to kiss you, his lips are softer than you had imagined. Softer and sweeter.

Thorin

Tonight is the first night you spent with Men since Bree. Lack-town is still an unwelcome place for you and the company, but Bard and his family are very nice with you. With Sigrid’s help, you’re warm now and you don’t smell fish anymore. The children are already sleeping as some of the company. You don’t know how to thank Bard since you don’t have money like the others, so you offer your help in the house. After helping Sigrid with the dishes, you ask what you could do, and she explains they have some damaged clothes that need stitching and she has no idea how to do it.

So here you are, sitting in the corner of the table, in the light of a candle, mending some clothes. Everyone is busy with their own business when Thorin sits next to you. You first don’t notice him, focused on your task. He put a warm tea next to you before speaking. “Do you want to be my Queen?” he says, as serious as ever. No one reacts, pretending to be still busy. “Queen of what?” you chuckle, still focused on your task. “Queen of Erebor,” he answers after making sure that Bard was no longer there to listen in. You don’t notice how serious he is, all it takes for him to ask you that here, in front of the others. He is not the type of person who expresses his feelings in front of everyone, so you don’t take it seriously. “But there is no Erebor,” you say, not seeing how troubled he is with your answer. “Not now,” he continues after a long silence in which the crackling of the fire is the loudest sound. “But Erebor will be with us soon.”

A smile appears on your lips as you finish what you have planned before going to sleep. After you take the tea that Thorin gave you, you turn to him. Now you notice how serious he was, how sad his eyes are despite his calm behaviour. You take a moment to repeat the conversation in your head. He is about to stand up when you exclaim, “Wait, wait, wait!” You put your tea on the table, then raise your hands in front you.  “You want me as your Queen? Wait. But you. That what you said? But. I’m confused,” you heart is beating too fast to say a correct sentence. When Thorin sees that your hands are shaking, he hesitates to take them. “I know I’m good in organisation and papers, but that shouldn’t be a reason to title me as a Queen. Should you choose someone you love? I thought Dwarves only chose to spend their life with their One. Oh, maybe royalty doesn’t work like that.”

A laugh echoes in the room. Bofur gets Thorin's blackest look of his life. But for you, his eyes are sparkling and a smile eventually appears on his lips. A genuine smile. “That's correct. I want my One as my Queen,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Now your cheeks are burning and you stop breathing. Do you really properly understand what he is saying?

You try to say something, but your words are blocked in your throat. Staying with your mouth open makes the future king chuckling. At the end of the room, you hear two dwarves sneezing exaggeratedly, “Heiswaitingforananswer” then “Notinthreedays”. Fíli and Kíli earn the same look as Bofur, but you don’t see it. As you only realise everyone in the room is looking at you, you suddenly stand up. Understanding you, Thorin stands up too, takes your hand and leads you outside.

As it’s dark and late, no one would see you, but the most preoccupying thing is the cold. Before you say anything, Thorin puts his jacket on your shoulders. “Tell me if you’re cold,” he says seriously, but his jacket is so warm that you already forget about the weather. “Do you really mean it? Why do you think I’m your One?” you shyly ask as you close the too big jacket on yourself, taking advantage to hide your burning cheeks. When you look back to him, you’re surprised to discover a new facet of Thorin. An (cute) embarrassed Thorin is in front of you. “Mahal, how should I tell you?” he begins as he runs a hand on his face, stopping on his mouth. “I know you're my One because I love you. And this is why I want you to be my Queen.” He swallows his saliva with difficulty, waiting for an answer from you that doesn't seem to be coming. “But maybe my feelings for you are not mutual, and if I offend you in any way, I apologise,” he says as his eyes sadden gradually. 

“No!” you eventually cry out as you grab his hands, surprisingly warm. You already touch them a few times, but never like that. “It’s mutual. Your feelings. I mean my feelings,” you sigh, trying to compose yourself. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this in this Men’s town when we’re almost at Erebor, but–” He cuts you off, “I don’t want you to stay here with your kin. I saw how you look at the town and… that man.” You frown, firstly because he stopped you while you were talking, secondly because he doesn’t trust you. “What man?” “The one who lets us stay in his house,” he grumbles.

“If you let me talk, Thorin Oakenshield, you would know that I love you too, since the first time I saw you! About Lake-town, I know nobody here. They are not my kin. The company is my family now!” you hurry to say before the conversation takes a bad turn. You truly love him from the start, but you obviously never hoped for anything. “Are you sure I’m your One?” you ask again, making him eventually smile. He realises one of your hands to run his in your hair. “I've never been so sure of anything,” he tenderly says. As he looks for a place for a braid, you can’t remain motionless. A step is enough to access his lips and you take that step. At the beginning, you feel Thorin’s surprise, but it quickly progresses into a sweet, lovely kiss under a snowy night.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Masterlist

Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Smoke, Iron, and Thorin (Ongoing)

Chapter 1- Smoke, Iron, and Thorin

Chapter 2- I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 3- Anger Translator

Chapter 4- Like We Used To Be

Chapter 5- Care to Make a Wager?

Chapter 6- Owe You One

Chapter 7- The Voice of Hunger

Chapter 8- You Love Bread

Chapter 9- Good Girl

Chapter 10- What We Left Behind in the Flames

Chapter 11- At Least We'll Be Together

Chapter 12- The Wandering Widow

Chapter 13- Knock Before Entering

Chapter 14- Mine

Chapter 15- Raspberry leaves

Chapter 16-coming soon

[etherealeowyn]

"Will you be my queen?" - Annatar x Fem Reader

Annatar comes back early, and Y/n's in for a surprise.

THIS CONTAINS SMUT - MINORS DNI

Word Count: 682

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Raindrops endlessly fell from the sky, as a chill washed over Y/n’s bedroom chamber, making the woman pull her blankets closer to her body. A fire was flickering near the foot of the bed, but the warmth emitted did not compare to Annatar’s body heat.

He had left early to attend to some matters with Celebrimbor regarding forging the rings of power.

Naivety was not an attribute that Y/n possessed. She knew Annatar was not his true name; he was Sauron, the demi-god feared for ages. But this knowledge did not dissuade her love for him.

Even though logically, it should have.

But logic carried very little weight over matters of the heart.

Sitting up, Y/n pushed the covers off her body before swinging her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the feeling of the cold stone beneath her bare feet. She walked over to the divider in the corner of the room designated as a changing space and began to slip on a thick velvet dress.

“There’s no need for you to put that on,” a man’s voice sounded, causing Y/n’s head to snap up from what she was doing.

A small blush crept onto her face as she recognized Annatar’s voice. She could see the silhouette of his frame, through the divider, illuminated by the burning fire.

She watched as his hand pushed the divider to the side, removing the barrier that separated the pair.

Looking up at him with anticipation prominent in her eyes, she felt her heart pound rapidly within her chest, wanting nothing more than for his skin to encounter hers. His fingers delicately pushed the garment from her shoulders, making it fall onto the ground in a heap. Annatar offered his hand to the woman, and she eagerly took it, stepping away and following him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“Sit,” he stated, his voice containing a well-balanced mixture of assertiveness and warmth.

She did as he said without hesitation, knowing everything he did for her was always in her best interest.

Using his calloused hands, Annatar spread open the woman’s legs, causing Y/n to fall back onto her elbows. The way that his long blond hair brushed the inside of her thighs before his mouth reached her clit, made her breath quicken, and she swore that she could feel electricity flowing through every part of her body.

There was no sorcery involved, but when he went down on her, it felt like time slowed down, and every touch, whether big or small, was amplified. He’d occasionally look up at her, eyes clouded, with a smirk playing on his lips as she squirmed in pleasure.

Her hair was sprawled out around her on the bed, slightly messy but perfect, nonetheless. He had hardly seen her like this, usually, in the public eye she was the epitome of put-together, making him feel mildly powerful that he was able to unravel her like this.

“S-Sauron,” she moaned his name as she finished, panting as beads of sweat adorned her forehead.

Y/n wasn’t expecting to let that name fall from her mouth, but she had a hard time calling him by his other names when this one seemed to fit him so well. Plus, her head felt like it was spinning, from the way that his tongue worked. Y/n knew that it was twisted to love someone like him, but at the same time, she felt so deeply connected to him that she couldn’t possibly run from him.

“I was not expecting you to say that, but I’m not surprised you figured it out, love. I always knew you were smart,” he spoke with a cocky smile.

Y/n sat up, struggling to form words, however, she let a smile brighten up her features.

“I could fill you in on everything later, but I just need to know, will you be my queen?” he asked, sloppily trailing kisses up her leg.

“Absolutely,” Y/n responded breathily, placing her finger underneath his chin and pointing it upwards so she could connect her lips to his.

[lixiepeach]

Fascination

Summary: It’s not love, he muses as he stares down at you. He could never bind himself to such a temporary thing as yourself. Lust, perhaps curiosity, fascination even, that’s brought him to desire you in such a way, that’s entangled you both. He allows himself a moment of tenderness as he brushes the hair stuck to your forehead, his lips pressing softly against yours. You lean into him, fingers brushing the tip of his ear as you trail your hands through his hair. 

Pairing: Thranduil x human!reader

Warnings: NSFW, explicit smut, p in v sex, fingering, sort of rough sex, unprotected sex (because of elf magic), no aftercare, interspecies relationship, reader is more of a paramour than anything, Thrandy is a bit obsessed, sort of a toxic relationship depending on how you look at it, it’s not love it’s lust, Thrandy is also a bit egotistical and elitist but what do we expect? 

A/N: Thought up this one a while ago whilst in the middle of some thots and decided to just write it since it wouldn't leave me alone. Not my first time writing for LOTR, but it's been quite a while. Might consider turning it into a series if there's enough interest...Anyway, I hope there's enough of a fandom left to enjoy it and that I'm not screaming into a void right now.

MASTERLIST

His eyes trace your form as you lay sprawled in the grass, asleep and entirely unaware. It speaks volumes of your trust, the ease with which you simply exist in his world as you nap in the warm afternoon sun. It’s amusing to him the way you lay there, one arm over your head, the other draped across your stomach, chest rising and falling slowly and evenly as your mind takes you far off into your dreams. 

His eyes trace your face, features he’s well acquainted with after hours upon hours of studying them. He connects the colored dots on your skin with his eyes, his gaze following the slope of your nose, the softness of your brow in your relaxed state. His fingers twitch at his side, longing to brush across the warmth of your skin but he stays his hand in fear he might disturb you. He’s not ready for you to be awake yet. 

He would gladly stare at you all day, his little mortal. 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt desire churning in his stomach, the twisting deep within as he gazes at another. Yet, here he finds himself feeling that warmth in his stomach as he gazes at a simple mortal woman. He had tried to brush it off as simply a fickle thing, many ages of loneliness finally beginning to wear upon him. It wasn’t as if he was without offers. Many brave elleths had approached him, brazenly offering their company in hopes of earning his affections, and even perhaps winning his heart. He had always turned them away, first in pain then in spite. He had ignored the disappointment and shame as he glanced over them, always looking through them, never quite seeing them. 

Then you arrived. 

It wasn’t often that the race of men graced his halls. He so rarely interacted with men, preferring to send envoys on his behalf the rare chance it happened. You had come not by choice, instead brought in on the brink of death after being rescued by his guards from a nest of spiders. Sick with poison from a bite, you had been in a terrible state upon your arrival, but had made a quick recovery thanks to the talent of his healers. 

He’s not sure what it was about you that piqued his interest. You were no one of any sort of importance. A simple human from one of the woodsman villages on the borders of the forest, a mere mortal woman that would have lived and died in a blink of his eye had you not by chance strayed from your path and fallen into the traps of the foul nuisance that was the spiders. Yet as you stood there, nervous before him as you thanked him, offering your life in debt for your rescue, he couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t looking through you as he so often did others, no, he was seeing you. 

Perhaps it was because you saw him. Not the crown, not his status, not the promise of what he could give or the things he had the power to do. You were staring at him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought perhaps you could see past the carefully crafted illusion and straight into his very being. 

That had been weeks ago, and still you linger in his halls at his insistence. 

You’ve offered no complaint, brought up no desire to return to your life in your village. There has been no longing in your gaze for your home, no far off look as you thought of your little house where you dwelled alone. He had felt the strength in your hands, the calluses on your fingers that spoke of a life of hard work, of fending for yourself. His fingers often traced the marks on your skin, remnants from accidents and close calls. He’s never bared his own scars to you, and he likely never will. 

He continues to stare at you as you sleep, your form illuminated by the golden light of the sun. He wouldn’t go so far as to call you ethereal in its light. You lacked the luminance of elves, though you seemed to glow in a different way. There was something so tangible about you, the life that was almost teeming from you as you smiled, the pure joy in your laughter, the profoundness of your sympathy, the intensity of your stare. You carried the weight of your emotions so plainly, though perhaps that was what it meant to be mortal. The understanding that you had so little time, that your life would end eventually. 

He has lived ages before you, and he will live ages after you. 

He can no longer ignore the churning in his stomach, the twitching of his fingers, the desire burning hot within him. His fingers trail along the line of your jaw, ghosting down the side of your neck that’s bared to him as your head is turned just slightly to the side. The sun has warmed you, the heat pulsing beneath his fingers. He takes in the texture of your skin, soft for a mortal but not quite as smooth as an elf’s. The corner of his lips lifts upward as goosebumps form on your skin, his eyes drawn down to your chest as his fingers trace your collarbones. You shift in your sleep, his hand pausing until you settle again. 

He allows his fingers to follow the neckline of your dress, the fine silk draped across your body in a way that accentuates your curves deliciously. You’re not built like an elf, no long lines and hard edges. You’re all soft curves and rounded edges plainly evidenced by the way the silk clings to your body even as you lay completely relaxed. 

You shift once more as his fingers brush the tops of your breasts, your mind beginning to wake. He watches the way your nipples pebble as he teases the sensitive skin of your dress, pressing against the thin fabric keeping them hidden. He loves how sensitive and reactive you are to him, your lips parting in a gasp as he thumbs over one of your hard nipples. 

Your eyes are glazed with sleep still as they flutter open, squinting in the sunlight. Your movements are sluggish as you shift below him, stretching your arms over your head. You remind him a bit of a cat as you stretch, letting out a quiet groan. 

He lets his hand slide up your chest to your neck, his thumb brushing the line of your throat. “Good afternoon, little one.” 

“I fell asleep.” You murmur, awareness beginning to come back to you as you stare up at him. 

A smile tugs at his lips, the fondness that he felt for you rising above the desire for a moment. “You did. Quite quickly, I might add.” He says. You have a habit of dozing easily, needing far more sleep than an elf. “Perhaps I am to blame in part for keeping you up so late into the night.” He teases, heat blooming beneath his fingers on your skin. 

You have the gaul to look bashful under his gaze, as if you had not captured him under your spell. You make him feel powerful as he looms over you, raw energy pulsing through him like lightning at the thought of how vulnerable you are, how vulnerable he is. How easily you had captured him, how easily life had begun to flow through him again at the sight of you. His blood runs hot, fingers trembling at the thought of how easily you could end him. 

One day you will. 

He forces the thought from his mind, pressing his thumb against your lips. You press a soft kiss to his skin, your gaze meeting his. You already know what he wants, why he pulled you from your blissful sleep. Your body shifts as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You still taste of the wine served at lunch, sweet and earthy with a hint of something else, something that was just simply...you. 

His hold on your neck tightens just slightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. You gasp quietly against his lips, his head tilting to take advantage of your reaction. His tongue invades your mouth, tangling with your own. You sigh into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. It’s bold, but he allows it, far too focused on his attempt to devour you with his lips. 

He shifts his body over yours, your knees parting for him like your body was welcoming his proximity. You are as your hands slip through his hair, silky strands sliding through your fingers. It’s his turn to gasp into your mouth as your fingertips brush the sensitive tips of his ears. The sensation shoots straight down his spine, his back arching into you. He pulls away from your kiss-plump lips, mischief shining in your eyes as you stare up at him. Your fingers flick the tips of his ears again, his eyes fluttering as a groan is pulled from his lips. 

“Naughty little thing,” He groans, leaning down to nip playfully at your bottom lip. 

Your giggle turns into a sigh as his lips abandon yours to taste your skin, his hand slipping under the skirt of your dress. He can smell your arousal, the thick, heady scent corrupting the fresh air of the gardens. He could get lost in the scent, bury his face in it until it suffocates him. He has lost himself in the scent and taste of you, many surfaces having been defiled by his need. He fights the urge to shove his face beneath your skirts and tease you with his tongue until you’re nearly unconscious. 

No, he needs something else from you today. 

His hand trails up your leg, pushing your skirts up with it. His fingers close around your thigh, sinking into the flesh. You let out a quiet sound as he digs his fingers into you, hard enough he knows you’ll bruise. He loves how easy it is to mark you, and he loves how long those marks linger on your skin. His rings bite into the sensitive flesh, but you offer no complaint. Instead your head drops back, bearing your throat to him. He bites at the skin of your throat, his tongue laving across the stinging marks his teeth leave behind. 

You’re practically boneless under him and he has yet to touch you, your hands rumbling the fabric of his shirt as you hold on to him for dear life. He often wonders what it feels like to you, if his touch electrifies you as much as your touch electrifies him. You’ve never known the touch of a mortal man, you had confessed to him, though it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. 

You had never explained why, though, you had refused the many offers of eligible men over the years. Perhaps it was for the same reasons he refused the willing elleths who propositioned him. 

Or, perhaps deep down you knew no mortal man would ever be enough. 

He draws himself from you to sit up on his knees, his hands pushing the fabric of your skirt the rest of the way up until it’s pooled around your waist. You’re bare beneath the dress, damp folds on display for him as he takes you in. You are beautiful in the way mortals are, like flowers would be to trees. You’re especially beautiful like this, laid out beneath him shameless and needy. You had been shy at first to his advances, but now you served him without question, without hesitation. 

How eager you were to serve your king. 

His hand trails from your hip to your stomach, feeling the hitch in your breath as he dips his fingers lower through rough curls before he finds exactly what he needs. Your lips part in a gasp as he brushes your pearl, the scent of your arousal strengthening as he begins to touch you. His thumb brushes over the sensitive bud, watching your face as your eyes get heavy and dark with need. He knows exactly how to play you, exactly how to make you tremble in his arms. 

He’ll take his time with you later. Right now, he needs his own release. 

You let out a quiet sound as two of his fingers sink into your heat, your body opening up to him. Much time he has spent teaching your body to open to him, to accept him, to be ready for him. As much as he enjoyed the roughness, seeing just how far he could push your little mortal body, as much as he enjoyed taking out his anger and his frustrations on your body, he never wished to hurt you. Many hours had been spent with his hand between your legs, bringing you to the edge but never quite letting you peak. 

Not until he was satisfied. 

His hand presses into your stomach, holding your hips still as he languidly pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your walls are slick with arousal, gripping him like a vice. His fingers are thick and long, reaching deep inside you, far deeper than you could ever bring your own fingers to. You had tried, you had shown him how you pleased yourself. He wondered how often you had done it in his Halls, how often he had been the one in your thoughts as you brought yourself to your release with your fingers. 

He’s forbidden it now, you touching yourself, bringing yourself pleasure. That was his job. It would be only his fingers that you knew, that would bring you to the point of release now. Now matter how dripping with need you are, you’re his. His to pleasure, his to take, his to find release with. 

Sometimes he’s not quite sure who is truly in charge. If he commands your body and your mind, or if he’s the one wrapped around your little finger. 

You buck against his hand as he curls his fingers, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. There’s no need for silence out here. You’re deep enough in the gardens the guards won’t be able to see anything, and they know by now to close their ears against what their king does in his private moments. 

“Please, please My King.” You beg, oh so sweetly. 

He stares at you, the sweat beading on your brow, your swollen lips parted as your chest heaves for breath. Your thighs are trembling, hands twisting in the grass beside you. You’re dripping onto his hand, the wet squelch of his fingers like music to his ears. 

“Tell me what you need, little one.” He says, the deep timbre of his voice edged with a needy rasp. He’s hard, nearly throbbing beneath the constraints of his pants. He’s far more patient with his own pleasure. He knows it’s coming, he knows you’ll let him take what he needs. 

“I-I need...” You stammer, eyes rolling in pleasure as he curls his fingers. A whine leaves your lips as he drags his fingers across that spongy spot inside you. “I-I need you. Please, My King.” 

He hums appreciatively at your begging, your desperation. You truly are desperate, he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls around his fingers. He’s not done with you yet, though. His lips lift up in a smirk as he watches you, your gaze locked on his. “Am I not giving myself to you? Are my fingers not enough for you?” 

“No!” You whine, thighs trying to close around him as you get closer and closer to release. “I-I need...I want to feel you!” You cry out, greedy in your desperation. “I want you inside me!” 

He basks in your begging, your neediness, your shamelessness. He was going to give it to you anyway, and you know this, but you also know he wants to hear you, to see you beneath him, begging him desperately. 

He truly wants to believe he is in control. 

He pulls his fingers from your folds, lifting them to his lips. You let out a quiet whimper as his tongue darts out, licking your juices from them. You’re musky and almost tangy on his tongue, not unlike a rich wine. He wants to savor you like a wine, but his own neediness is beginning to itch in the back of his mind. He’s beginning to feel his own desperation, his own desire to sink into your warmth and stay there for the rest of eternity. 

He releases you enough to free himself from the constraints of his pants, his hand wrapping around his thick length. You tilt your head so you can see him, eyes focused on him as he pumps his length in his hand. Your legs fall open, completely relaxed as you bare your weeping folds to him. He has the desire to praise you, but he holds his tongue. He does not wish to go to that place right now. 

Right now he needs release, the sweet release only your body can give him. 

You welcome him as he sinks into your body, arms wrapping around him as he presses himself against you. You relax yourself around him as he sinks into your warmth, the wide head of his length spearing you open. You offer no complaint if it’s uncomfortable, only clinging to his tunic as he lets himself rest over you for a moment. Your legs squeeze around his waist as if you’re trying to draw him deeper into you, as if you might fuse his body into yours. 

He allows a moment of tenderness as he kisses you, tasting your lips again. You hum into his mouth, walls squeezing around him as if telling him you’re ready, you’re waiting. 

You are waiting for him. 

He draws his hips back, slow and steady as if he was unsheathing a blade, letting you feel every inch of him as he withdraws from your walls to just the tip of his length. You let out a cry as he presses back into you, reaching as deep as he can, until your hips are flush with his. You cling to him as he sets his pace, rocking into you steadily. There will be grass stains on your dress, but that won’t matter. You’ll change before dinner, wearing something more extravagant as you dined with your king. 

Not that you’ll be wearing whatever dress you choose very long. He has every intention of taking you to his chambers tonight and picking you apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a whining, writhing mess on his bed. Then he will take you apart further until your eyes flutter and your breathing shudders and you dangle over the precipice of unconsciousness as he brings you more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel at once. 

That is for later, though. 

Right now, he needs to ease the aching desire deep within him, the beast that you reawoke within him. He keeps his pace steady, sharpening the snap of his hips into you. You’re whining and moaning against him, hands clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you on this plane of existence. His blood burns hot within him at the thought of being needed, of being desired so carnally. 

You’re growing close to your release, your thighs trembling around his hips. Your cries are loud in the gardens, lost in your pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. As much as he’s fueled by his own need for release, he wants you to fall over the edge first. He wants to see you lost in your pleasure, even if just for a moment. 

He pulls back enough to stare at your face, eyes closed in pleasure, lips parted as you moan. His hand grips the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are dazed with pleasure, glossy and blown with lust. His fingers dig into your skin, your pulse thrumming under his thumb. Your skin is hot, slicked with sweat from the exertion. He fights the urge to taste it, to lick at the saltiness of your skin, to taste you on his tongue. 

Later, he reminds himself. 

“Let go.” He grunts, his breath fanning your face. “Let me feel you.” 

Your eyes roll back as if he has that much command of your body, your legs tightening around him as you reach your peak. Your walls flutter, tightening and releasing around him, the mechanics of nature to draw him to his own release. 

He lets himself go, burying his face in your throat as he spills into you. His body trembles with yours, length twitching as he fills you with his release. For a moment, just a fraction for a second he imagines it, his seed taking root, a half-elven child that takes after you. He wrenches the thought from his mind as if it’s a burning ember, refusing to allow such a daydream to take over his mind. 

He pushes himself up to his elbows, staring down at you. His hair curtains around you, soft locks caressing your skin. You're breathing heavily, chest still heaving beneath him. Your eyes are lidded, face nearly as relaxed as it had been when you were sleeping. Your skin is still slicked with sweat, strands of your own hair sticking to your skin. You look ruined and he has barely begun. 

You look beautiful. 

It’s not love, he muses as he stares down at you. He could never bind himself to such a temporary thing as yourself. Lust, perhaps curiosity, fascination even, that’s brought him to desire you in such a way, that’s entangled you both. He allows himself a moment of tenderness as he brushes the hair stuck to your forehead, his lips pressing softly against yours. You lean into him, fingers brushing the tip of his ear as you trail your hands through his hair. 

Fascination, that’s all it is, he tells himself as another shiver runs down his spine. 

(I know I had a taglist a long time ago but it's been so long since I've written anything for this blog I'm not even sure if there's anyone on it anymore. I'm willing to put one together though if there's interest...)

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Softly. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hillooo!! Let's switch up the angst today, lovelies with more Kili love!! As always, enjoy!!

Plot; When Kili is dying and can't rely on Tauriel, who then can he count on?

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; long fic, blood/injury, mature themes, coarse language, violence, unrequited love, angst, eventual fluff

________________________________________

Exhaustion burned like a sting through the muscles in your legs. Having travelled so far in the span of a day, the Company had made it from the stability provided by Beorn's home now to the depths of Mirkwood where the days seemed timeless and dark. Your own footsteps rang like a drum in your ears, the grip that an Elven soldier had on you was unyeilding.

Completely stripped of your outer layers and weaponry, you felt unbelievably helpless as you were marched along the winding bridges to perhaps a worser fate than death. You all didn't know.

"Tolo hí", a cocky Elf unwisely shoved Thorin towards a staircase, the King matching the taller male's glare. You angrily tried to shrug yourself from the grip of the soldier holding you, attempting to stick up for your Company's leader. The Dwarves shared your sentiment, Thorin waving all of you down before the fights could begin. You all weren't exactly in a position to stir trouble, after all. Things had to remain peaceful for good negotiations.

"Don't struggle. I will be back", he assured you all, his ocean gaze burning with surity before he ascended the steps to the throne room. The Elves forced you all onwards, your path leading you further down into the bowels of the city; the dungeons. The leader Legolas, he'd been named; scrutinized you with his harsh gaze, undoubtedly noting how you stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others of this Company. One human female and thirteen male Dwarves certainly made for an interesting travelling circus, in his eyes. Yet, you knew you were missing one more member of your group.

Bofur noticed Bilbo's disappearance first, always seeming to keep track of your whereabouts as much as the missing Hobbit's. You all declined to mention your lost fifteenth member of the Company, trying to avoid making it known that you were seeking him out hopefully. Some part of your heart screamed to you that he was already here, that he hadn't abandoned you all. He would rescue you all soon, you were sure of it.

The Elves finally made their stop, the soldier that held you releasing the hard hold he had on your arm. You were sure you would have bruising later. Your captors began to lead your group in pairs or singles up and down stairs, completely separating you all. Balin turned to you, attempting to offer you assurance with a steady smile and a glance that told you, everything will be fine. You hoped so as you were finally lead away from the older Dwarf with Bofur. Worry flashed in Fili and Kili's eyes as you ascended stairs to your right with your cellmate, the brothers both having some level of protectiveness over you.

The cells were small with no chairs or any form of comfort, only the cold floor to sit on. While trudging forwards, you were suddenly shoved into the small room behind Bofur, crashing into him and hitting the floor. "Oh, shit!", you hissed, rubbing at your head and helping him to his feet.

"Are ye alright, Love?", he asked, wholeheartedly unconcerned with himself. His hand moved your own to check for any blood or wounds that the fall may have given you, finally sighing in relief. "You'll be fine". Patting your shoulder, he moved past you to look through the bars of the now locked door. He gripped the bars, much like the others had started doing. All of the Dwarves, save for Balin, kicked and threw themselves desperately at the bars in their attempt to dent or break them. The metal was completely reinforced, the Dwarves risking harm to themselves more than their cell bars.

"It's no use!", Balin shouted. "This is no Orc prison. These are the dungeons of the Woodland Realm!". Dejected, everyone dropped to the floor, inclusive of yourself. Balin was right. There was no escaping unless Thorin could strike a deal with the Elven King, Thranduil. An agitated roar left Dwalin's throat, punching the bars before throwing himself down as well. You would all have to sit this out and wait.

Turning your head to your right, you gazed down at the other cells. Kili's cell with Fili's above his, Ori and Dori together to his left, Balin to his right. Nori was probably further up from Kili. Dwalin's cell was behind yours, meaning Gloin and Oin were probably in the cell beneath your own. Bifur had been locked with Bombur in the cell by the staircase you'd climbed. They were the first to be locked up.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you found your gaze landing on Kili. He was your closest friend and the one you worried for the most. This quest had been costing on you both, mentally and physically so. But, you'd found comfort in each other.

On the days when it rained, the young Prince was always there to tell a joke that reminded you of sunshine. When you were cold, he would offer you his strong and heated arms. Kili had already saved your life numerous times, always throwing himself in harm's way just to protect you.

In the late hours of the night, you'd offer solace to the homesick Prince who often dreamed of his mother and home in the Blue Mountains. It was in these quiet hours when he was unafraid to open himself to you. Sometimes you'd spar and train with him to give him relief from his restlessness, participate in pranks or tell him stories of your homeland if he was down. Your bedroll was always beside his leaving the Company to speculate on your relationship with Kili.

There was nothing to tell, to your disappointment. Kili had admitted no feelings for you and vice versa. Some part of you feared losing the fierce friendship and bond with him, should he know the truth and not feel the same. Your feelings for the Dwarf were obvious to everyone, even to Fili, who had become like a protective older brother to you. Yet, they were not obvious to the one who held your affections.

Your head turned to find Bofur's gaze already on you, an amused grin splayed on his expression. He sat with his back against the opposite wall, his brows risen suggestively. "What?", you sputtered, feigning innocence.

"Am I supposed t' act like I don't know who yer' starin' at or what?". He laughed softly, folding his arms with a shake of his head. A flush of heat hit your cheeks in embarrassment. "You've got it bad, Love".

"Got what?".

"The love bug", he shrugged. "You're in love–".

"Don't say it any louder!", you hissed, a few giggles escaping the Dwarf.

"I don't know how long it's been since I first noticed it, but I've known for a long time now", he confessed, your head dipping in further abashment. "And there's no shame in it". Bofur nudged your leg with his foot, offering you a kind smile when your eyes lifted again to meet his own.

"Does Thorin know?".

"He'd have t' be deaf, blind and stupid not t', Love", Bofur guffawed.

"Oh dear", you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

"Fili knows". Your eyes widened in shock, peeking through the splits in your fingers at the dark haired Dwarf. Thinking it best to be honest, he continued, "In fact, I don't think there's a soul amongst us, save for Kili himself, that doesn't know about this. Sorry, Lass".

"And you thought of telling me when??", you gaped.

"When Dwalin would finally be at snapping point at yer lovesick bantering", he laughed. "Which surprisingly, he hasn't reached yet". You groaned again in your shame, too embarrassed to show your face. " 'Ey". He nudged your leg again. "Don't be ashamed. Dwalin is a patient Dwarf, as are we all. We understand". Your calf being the only thing he could grip from where he sat, Bofur began to caress it to try and soothe you. "Jus' be thankful yer' not sharing yer cell with Dwalin right now".

Your hands fell from your face whilst you giggled, the both of you finding humour in his additional statement. "I'm in the next cell, not deaf, Bofur", a grumble followed quietly.

"Aye. Noted. Sorry!", he called back softly, the both of you lapsing again into a short fit of shared laughter. You realized it was his aim all along. With gratitude shining in your gaze, you inclined your head to your cellmate.

"Thanks, Bofur". Tipping his hat, he grinned with immeasurable mirth,

"Yer' always much welcome, Lass".

The wait for Thorin's return began. Or to be rescued by Bilbo, whichever first. Hours, perhaps even days were passing. You didn't know. The dungeons of the Woodland Realm fell silent for some time, your eyes coming to close. Cheerful music and voices softly began to pour down from the upper levels, almost lulling you asleep with its beauty. Your stomach growled painfully, reminding you that you hadn't eaten since Beorn's. Footsteps descending from the throne room caught your immediate attention, however. Your brows rose, peering from the bars of your prison cell as the familiar figure of the redheaded Captain of the Guard, Tauriel made her way past your cell before travelling downward. Patrolling. Kili had occupied himself with something and it was clear that the pointy-eared bitch couldn't keep her nose out of his business.

"The stone in your hand", she whispered sternly. "What is it?". Was nothing sacred?? Could he not have something in his possession??

Your chest puffed out, ready to tell her to leave and mind her business when Kili finally replied, "It is a talisman". This caught your curiosity as well as Tauriel's. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a Dwarf read the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed! ", he spat, forcing her to gaze at the dark object. Good job, Kili. You relished in her shock, relaxing as she finally seemed to be leaving. "Or not". Your mouth fell open. What was he doing?? She was your enemy! Tauriel backtracked her steps, returning to Kili's cell. "Depending on whether or not you believe in that kind of thing, it's just a token", he shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. It seemed as if Tauriel was smiling as well. "A rune stone. My mother gave it to me so that I'd remember my promise".

"What promise?".

"That I will come back to her", Kili smiled, your heart burning with envy at the kindness he shared with her. Never in all the nights you'd spent in his company, had the Princeling shared this special rune stone with you, nor its backstory. Not that it was anyone's business, of course. But, you now found yourself wishing that he had shared something this intimate and unique with you. "She worries. She thinks I'm wreckless", he continued with a sigh.

"And are you?", Tauriel failed to fight her smile, clearly enjoying her time with the Prince.

"Nah". When throwing the stone again, however, it slipped from his grip. It skidded out of his cell and under her boot. You'd tensed, worried that it would've fallen into the nearby chasm. Now it was in her possession and she'd confiscate it for sure. Her nimble fingers held it into the dim light, looking over the intricate runes that covered the small stone. Kili had stood, worrying over the stone the way you had. "It's quite the party you're having up there", he mused, trying to draw her attention from the stone.

"It is Mereth en-Gilith", she replied. "The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars".

"I always thought it is a cold light, so remote and far away", he confessed. Incredulously, she whispered,

"It is memory! Precious and pure!". Her turquoise eyes fell to the dark stone occupying her palm. "Like that promise". Reaching it forwards, she allowed Kili to take it back. "I have walked there sometimes", she added, gathering his undivided attention. "Above the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of forever fill the air".

Looking down at the Prince, he seemed effortlessly taken by her. His hazel orbs were glittering in awe, his lips parted in a state of wonder. And could he be blamed?? Tauriel had pure, creamy skin, unblemished and ageless with the beauty of the Elves. Long, thick tresses and a graceful air about her. She's a far more skilled warrior than yourself, which Kili also seemed to admire.

"I saw a Fire Moon once". Another story he'd failed to share with you, intriguing the Elf in his presence further. His smile grew as he leant against the bars. "It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was as it filled the sky". Tauriel sat by the stairs of Kili's cell, intently listening to his story the way you would have. "We were an escort for some merchants of Ered Luin. They were trading in silverware for furs. We took the green way south, keeping the mountains to our left. And there up ahead, this huge Fire Moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you".

Some part of you knew and berated you for not seeing this coming. Perhaps it was blissful ignorance? Or misplaced complacency in your heart?? Kili always had a predisposition of curiosity towards the Elves, having shamelessly flirted with one of them in Rivendell and admitting, accidentally to his humiliation, that he found one of their males attractive. So, what chance did you stand against them?? None.

Dejectedly, your head hit the rough wall behind you, their shared laughter and conversations bitterly reminding you that you never did stand a chance to begin with. It was clear that your feelings for the Prince weren't returned. Only now was it plain for you to see. Hating the way jealousy's unkind flames wreaked havoc within your mind, tears began to burn in your eyes without forgiveness. With a sigh, your face suddenly crumpled and your shoulders shook, sobs wracking your body. Bofur heard your silent sniffles, being the light sleeper that he was. "Hey!", his voice cooed to you softly, instantly waking from his daze. "What's goin' on??". Your throat felt tight, your heart aching painfully within your chest. Desperately, you wiped at your eyes, the kind Dwarf moving to sit on your left. He needed only to look through the cage bars to realise what ailed you. His gaze softened, surprised at this revelation. However, it didn't stop his warm arms from circling you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, safe from the negativities of the world. Bofur's large hands worked comforting caresses on your back and shoulders. "There, there now", he hushed you. "There, there. I've got ye".

"It hurts, Bofur", you wept. Part of his heart broke hearing those words, knowing that no joke he could offer you now would make it better. He felt useless.

"I know", he whispered. "I know it hurts". Bofur's heated arms tightened their embrace, some part of him hoping that they would help remove the pain. "He didn't know how ye felt for him. And as far as I'm concerned,—", he wiped at your face. "— he's an idiot for not bein' in love with ye instead of that daft Elf maid". You chuckled bitterly,

"She's hardly daft. She's beautiful".

"Perhaps on the outside", he conceded. "But, if Kili can't see the beauty that's both outside and within yerself, don't waste time pursuing the heart that clearly isn't yours". You knew what he was implying and the thought of disregarding your feelings for the Prince horrified you.

"It's not some simple fixation, Bofur! I love him!", you sighed hopelessly. "It's not easy to let go of someone you–". He nodded in understanding. You felt connected so deeply with Kili, you were sure that the concept of soulmates existed. You'd never felt anything like this before. And now, every part of you felt like that connection was being torn away. It was agony.

"Whatever ye decide, I only hope as yer friend that ye choose your happiness above all else. Even if it's hard". You nodded. "I'm here for ye, Lass. We all are, remember that".

Sleep eventually took you within Bofur's embrace, the kind Dwarf refusing to let you go. Despite no romantic attraction to you, he still valued your happiness and everyone else's. You were exhausted, in desperate need of food and sleep. Even if it was a tad of rest, he'd still help you get it with a bit of comfort.

The wait to be rescued continued for some hours thereafter, Tauriel finally leaving to join the festivities above. Marching footsteps thundered through the halls, startling you awake. Thorin was back, at last. Alive and unscathed to your relief.

"Did he offer you a deal?", Balin's voice called out, all of you eager to listen.

"He did", Thorin replied, his voice growing to a yell that echoed through the very heart of the Woodland Realm. "I told him he can go ishkh khakfe andu null!! Him and all his kin!!". The white haired Dwarf sighed through his nostrils in exasperation, shaking his head.

"Well, that's that, then", he huffed. "That deal was our only hope".

"Not our only hope", the King shot back, his eyes glimmering with the same hopes in all your hearts. He too had faith Bilbo would return.

The Hobbit wasn't too far away, having already infiltrated the kingdom using the Ring that not one of you knew about. It had saved him from the Goblins and he'd use it to save you all too. Bilbo's steps were invisible and silent when he descended into the bowels of Mirkwood. He'd cautiously followed the Elf that bore the prison keys, marking his patrols. The wine cellar was where most of the guards seemed to be. They spoke of the festivities above, the keeper of the keys not willing to forsake his duties. "They're locked up!", the others insisted, snatching the keys to hang them on a hook. "Where can they go?". Bilbo smiled. If only they knew..

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise", Bofur ground out beside you. "Must be nearly dawn".

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?", Ori's faint sigh echoed. Your heart sank for the Company. You'd been enlisted to help them, but there was naught left that even you could do for them now. Fili stomped in frustration, throwing himself on the floor.

"Not locked in here, you're not", the familiar voice of Bilbo rang out. You felt as if you'd waited forever to hear those words, relieved to see your friend alive.

"Bilbo!", you gasped, clawing at the bars with a grin.

"Bilbo!!", the others began to shout happily, collectively overjoyed to see the Hobbit as well.

"Shh!! There are guards nearby!!", he hissed, starting with Thorin and Balin's cells, working his way upwards. He worked his way along with Fili, Ori and Dori, Oin and Gloin, Kili, followed by Bifur and Bombur.

Finally, he reached your cage. Once the door swung open, the Hobbit was in your arms, happily embracing you back. "I'm so glad you're alright!", you laughed ecstatically.

"Same with you!", he assured, breaking from you with a grin to continue on his way to let out Dwalin and Nori. Bofur lead you down the steps, Kili seemingly waiting for you by the bottom, relieved to see you again. The sentiment wasn't shared. A flush of resentment had filled your heart, your brows creasing at the Prince.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?". His question fell on deaf ears. Noting your short-sleeved tunic, he continued, "You're looking cold. Here, I'll–".

"Just leave me alone", your words were a sharp grumble, your eyes unusually apathetic. You moved past the Prince as if he were nothing. Hurt and confusion flashed through Kili's eyes whilst he watched your retreating figure, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Various members of the Company, noteably Thorin, Balin and Fili; onlooked in shared confusion at your uncharacteristic behaviour. Had something happened??

Dwalin clapped Kili's shoulder in passing, drawing the Princeling back to focus. He quickly followed his gathering kin at the top of a stairwell with varying routes. "Not that way!", Bilbo's call was still a whisper, leading you all onto one of the others that lead downwards instead. "Down here! Follow me!!".

Freedom, you thought. You all followed close behind the Hobbit, confident in his plan of escape. Strangely, he seemed to know where he was going. Or so you thought until you reached what looked to be a wine cellar. The sounds of snores reached your ears as you descended the last steps to your destination. A group of intoxicated Elves were resting their heads on a table, completely ignoring their guard duties. Having followed Bilbo down first, Kili growled, "I don't believe this– we're in the cellars!!". Bofur followed after,

"Yer' supposed t' be leadin' us out, not further in!!".

"I know what I'm doing—", Bilbo tried to respond, Bofur cutting in,

"Shh!!", holding a finger over his mouth. The Dwarves all filed in ahead of you, Dori and Dwalin flanking you protectively out of instinct. From where he stood with his brother, Kili eyed you with a pensive gaze, his strong brows knitted together in concern.

"Everyone! Quickly! Climb into the barrels now!", Bilbo's orders were hushed, his eyes desperate. He had a plan. That much you could tell.

"Are you mad?!", Dwalin hissed. "They'll find us!!".

"No, they won't! They won't! Please, please, you must trust me!". Following his words, you watched then as Bilbo turned to Thorin with a pleading gaze.

"Do as he says", the King whispered. Instantly, everyone began to climb into the barrels, even Thorin himself. Only, there were two problems. One, there weren't enough barrels for you to join the Dwarves. Two, you would surely be too big for a barrel. Thirteen concerned sets of eyes caught onto that situation rather quickly, various whispers of,

"What about (Y/n)?", "She needs somewhere to hide too!!", "Where can she go??", filling the room.

"Calm down!", the burglar begged quietly. "Let me think!!".

"No time!", you insisted. "I'll have to go without". Whispers of protest rang out from the Dwarves, not satisfied with your situation.

"For the love of Mahal, (Y/n)! Don't be a fool!", Fili chided.

"Climb in my barrel?", Kili offered hesitantly, your brief harshness towards him being forgotten in his concern for your safety. Bofur's head snapped towards him with an expression that read, 'Really?? After the damage you've done?'.

"I will not risk your safety", Thorin interluded, your gaze falling to the leader you respected so much. "There's no time. Climb in with Kili". Your previous resentment towards the younger Prince was already gone. And despite your hurting heart, all you truly wanted for Kili now was for him to be happy, even if it was without you.

Climbing up, you slipped quickly into the warm alcove of the Princeling's barrel. It was a tight squeeze, but you managed to fit everything under your shoulders into it. "Are you comfortable?", Kili's voice was a gentle calm, his hot breaths fanning over your face.

"I'm fine", you matched his hushed tone, your body slowly warming in the close proximity you shared. Little did you know, you'd be needing it..

Now satisfied with your situation, the Dwarves all stuck their heads out. "What do we do now?", Bofur asked.

"Hold your breath", was the only response you received from the Hobbit before he pulled a wooden lever.

"Hold our breath??", Bofur sputtered. You all then realised what was coming. The ground tilted up, gravity seeming to change for you and the Dwarves. A set of strong arms held you in the form of a brace as the barrel you were in spindled and became weightless. Everyone cried out, falling for what felt like an eternity.

Water suddenly submerged you all, cold and biting against your skin. Once hitting the surface, you gasped for air as every limb fell into a state of shock. "Breathe", Kili's instructions barely registered, your nose burning and head buzzing. He gazed up at you, attempting to warm your face and arms with his heated hands.

"Where's Bilbo?", Bofur's head bounced from the water. Despite the chattering of your teeth, you smiled amusedly,

"He forgot himself". Thorin followed in your amusement with a smile of his own,

"Give him a moment". A moment was all the Hobbit needed, falling stiffly with a scream into the waters by Nori's barrel. The tri-haired Dwarf hauled Bilbo against his barrel, getting him to hold on for the journey ahead. "Well done, Master Baggins", the King commended proudly. It was much deserved. Still being the humble burglar he was, Bilbo waved the act off as if it was nothing. Thorin began to motion everyone along. "Come on! Let's go!".

The barrel you shared with Kili had become uncomfortable as it tipped forwards, your bodies squishing together. In any other instance, you'd crave this contact. Yet now, it was painful for more than one reason. Both of you used an arm each, dipping them into the numbingly cold water to row your barrels along. Sunlight poured in from the end of the cave's tunnel, the water seeming to give you speed in its new flow. You soon realised why. "Hold on!", you shrieked, the barrel cascading forwards into ferocious rapids. The current carried you all forwards and down the river effortlessly, the coldness having been briefly forgotten in your adrenaline. The Company's escape was brilliantly carried out. All you needed to do was leave Mirkwood to the lands beyond. It seemed so simple until a horn's cry pierced the air. You'd all been caught!

Fear leapt into your throat whilst you all rounded a corner, thrown forwards again to see Elven soldiers closing the gates of the river. "NO!!", Thorin exclaimed, his barrel being the first to reach the now closed door before you all followed after. Freedom seemed more further away now than it had ever been. And it was only going to get worse. Orcs had now made their appearance, slaughtering the Elves that were preventing your escape.

"Watch out!!", Bofur shouted. "There's Orcs!!". Corpses of both Elvenkind and Orc fell into the waters, all of them battling furiously amongst themselves. Kili had forced you to crouch uncomfortably, your legs burning at the tightness of the squeeze. He was aiming to protect you from the flying arrows and falling bodies, bracing you. His hazel eyes travelled to your own, clouded with fear. You'd never seen him so afraid, your hand subconsciously reaching for his.

"Slay them all!!", a foul voice ordered in the words of Black Speech. This was not Azog's voice, but one just as hideous. You decided to release yourself from the brace, standing straight with Kili to fight the Orcs that leapt into the water. Your heart raced, pounding within the confines of your chest. You all needed to get out of here. There had to be a way out. And that's when it came to you. The lever! You climbed out of the barrel, Kili shouting your name in protest whilst you waded in the freezing waters to the stairs of the wall. The sunkissed concrete instantly warmed your numb limbs whilst you clambered up the steps. It was so relieving to feel the warmth beneath your palms, that you dreaded eventually having to go back into the freezing waters below.

You dodged a blade slicing down towards you, rolling to the side and onto your back. Darting your foot upwards at the Orc who had tried to end you, it fell from the wall and to the forests below. Scrambling to your feet, you raced forwards across the wall. "Kili!!", Dwalin shouted, your head snapping in the direction of the call. The Prince had followed you onto the wall, catching the blade that Dwalin had tossed him. He used it to slay the Orc that had tried to pursue you to the lever. You hadn't realised either the creature or Kili's presence, grateful that he'd flanked your back. Fili always kept one eye on his brother, even when they weren't side by side. He threw blades into the Orcs that tried to overpower Kili in his attempts to protect you. Bolg had seen your motives of escape, noting that you had no weapons or the like. He had to stop you now if he ever wished to end Thorin and his kin here. Kili saw the hideous Orc arming his bow, his eyes blowing wide in horror as you fought your way through the carnage, unaware of the threat. His feet hit the ground in a dead sprint, slicing through the Orcs in his path like butter.

"(Y/n)!!", his throat burned with his scream. His heartbeat thundered in his ears deafeningly, finally catching your steps. The arrow flew, hitting flesh. You'd fallen to the floor with a yell, Kili crashing on top of you with a shout of his own. Your back ached from the impact, Kili's palms stinging from grazing the concrete.

"Kili??", you breathed, your brows furrowing in concern and confusion at his actions. Why had he stopped you?? The Prince's expression of shock fell suddenly into a pained grimace, your eyes drifting downwards to see the obscenely large arrow that had impaled his knee. "Kili!", your panicked cry left your throat raw. Bolg grinned in a sense of victory, having hit at least one target. Fili's head snapped upwards at your scream, spotting his brother's ailments with terror,

"Kili!!". The young Prince ground out a yell between his teeth, feeling the stinging sensation of blood dripping from the malicious wound. The sensation was unlike any pain he'd felt before, burning within his blood like a disease. What had he been pierced with?? He suddenly fell back with a scream, your figure quickly entering his vision. Kili's brows creased, his eyes fixed on you whilst he panted erratic breaths. His hand grasped the one you'd offered him with an almost painful grip, his eyes suddenly darting to his right. Tauriel broke through the woods, slashing and firing arrows with a graceful precision. "Kill her!!", Bolg shrieked. "Kill the She-Elf!!".

Kili's lips had parted, entirely enamoured by her presence. Not allowing your resentment to cloud your judgement, your hand broke from the Princeling's grip, hurrying to instead pull the lever down for the Company to escape. "We need to get out of here!", you yelled, Kili nodding in agreement. Without thinking, he slid forwards, his legs dangling above the barrel you'd shared. Both you and Fili saw this as a bad idea.

"Kili!!", Fili exclaimed.

"Wait!! I'll remove it!!—", Kili's cry of agony cut you off as he slid into the barrel, the arrow snapping painfully from his leg.

"Shit!", you cursed, leaping into the freezing waters without a thought, clinging to the barrel that Kili was in. Alike to Bilbo, you'd have to hold on externally. And it would be no easy feat. The rapids bashed at your face constantly, submerging you in its chaotic stream as it went. You were gasping for air whenever you could manage it, the water painfully blurring your vision and disorienting you. The grip you had on Kili's barrel was starting to wane, his hands gripping onto your arms. The water settled eventually from rapids to a speedy and winding current, no longer depriving you of sight and air.

From your view in the river, you'd spied Fili, Dwalin and Thorin using the Orcs' weapons against them, lopping down the branches they stood on and bashing the ones that tried to attack them from the banks of the river's flow. Legolas had joined the fight, using every resource in his surroundings, inclusive of the Dwarves' heads as he leapt from one side of the water to the other. In any other situation, you would've laughed at the expressions of Dwalin and Dori as they both were stepped on first, followed by the others who didn't seem to enjoy it either. The blonde Elf used the sword that had belonged to Thorin. Orcrist. It seemed wrong in the hands of Legolas, but he used it to a valuable advantage against your shared enemies. Thorin had even graciously covered for the Elf whilst he fought, ensuring no untimely demise met him. It was more than he deserved for the way he treated you all, yet you couldn't help that Thranduil would see it as a token of friendship at some eventuality. For now, you all had gotten away. The Elves had given up their pursuit of you to instead drive out the Orcs, a bigger threat. The Orcs still were on the hunt for you all, but it would take some time for them to catch up.

The river slowed, all of you able to clamber from the barrels and onto the rocky shores of the land once more. Your legs shook when you finally stood on them again after your large dose of adrenaline and cold. Stumbling forwards, you couldn't feel your hands, now so cold that they were stinging in the fingertips. The cool air blowing from the mountains nearby had goosebumps rising in every pore of your skin, your teeth chattering with the damp cold that enveloped you. However, your gaze focused on only one person, a trail of red water following behind him as he limped onto dry land to sit on a boulder for support. Concern, fear and anger rippled through every ounce of your blood like a wildfire, helping you forget the cold. You marched towards Kili, his face screwed in pain as he tried to wipe his wound clean. Bofur had stood near him, his eyes lit with the same concern as yours. Kili had spied his gaze first. "I'm fine", he snapped. "It's nothing". You wordlessly knelt by him, attempting to inspect the wound when he noticed you and swatted you away. "Don't". His harsh tone caught you offguard, your brows raising in challenge. "I'll be fine". Despite his confidence in saying it, not even he had full belief that his words were the truth.

"Let me see it", your voice was a terrifying calm, your gaze showing the emotions simmering beneath the surface. Your eyes met the Prince's in a silent battle of wits, his brows creased in an anger to combat your own.

"I said it was nothing—". Your hand pried his away from the wound, feeling the nausea beginning to creep up. The wound was deep, perhaps to the bone, and was bleeding openly. Bruising had already strangely appeared around the cut and it seemed horribly inflamed for a simple arrow wound. Kili spied your eyes brimming with tears, his blood running cold with remorse.

"Kili", you sighed beneath your breath.

"I've had worse. Really—", he tried gently, your head shaking.

"You need a healer. You need proper medical help".

"(Y/n), it's just a little cut!", he downplayed it with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Stop being so overdramatic!".

"You want me to stop being concerned for you?? Then maybe stop endangering yourself for once!!", your words shattered the air, shocking everyone in the Company. Kili's eyes flickered sadly from your own. "Better that the arrow really had hit me instead of you!". Anger flashed in the Princeling's gaze.

"Oh really? And why is that??".

"It would've been better than listening to your bullshit", you huffed, storming away from the stubborn Prince. Kili's head slumped, his face screwed up in a glower. Dismissing the tone you'd taken with his nephew, Thorin had established that you were all to leave promptly after Kili's wound was to be bound, Fili taking it upon himself to tend to his brother's leg.

"She's angry with me", Kili mumbled beneath his breath, his hazel eyes lingering where you sat with Ori. Fili almost laughed, his amusement twitching his smile.

"She is", he agreed, squeezing out the blooded cloth he was using for the wound. Ocean orbs flickered up to his brother's melancholy expression. "It's what caring for a person entails, Kee".

"She's been different to me. Distanced", the younger Prince continued with a sigh. "She does not look at me the same. Mirkwood has changed her".

"Maybe", Dwalin mused, catching onto the conversation. "Or perhaps she saw y' gettin' friendly with that Elf maid?". Kili's brows furrowed in confusion, turning his gaze to the older Dwarf.

"Why would that bother her??". Shrugging, Dwalin responded,

"If y' don't know by now, ye never will, Laddie". Know what? , Kili's mind echoed, his eyes closing from exasperation. He had not the energy to ask. The Prince only hoped that you'd be willing to talk to him again as you once did. Whenever that may be.

"I'm absolutely drenched", Ori groaned in irritation, pouring the water from his boot.

"Think about me. I'm human. Not a short, walking furnace like yourself". The younger Dwarf spared a laugh despite his misery. Sensing a pair of eyes on your back, you turned to find a man standing on the hill above. His bow was drawn, aimed for you and Ori. Instantly, you covered the smaller Dwarf with yourself, Dwalin leaping down from where he stood to protect you. The older Dwarf held a large branch for a makeshift weapon and shield, baring his teeth like an animal defending its young. The Company became highly strung, Kili standing to his feet without a care. The stranger fired an arrow at Dwalin's branch, already anticipating the Princeling's next move and firing an arrow at him as well. The second arrow bounced from the stone Kili had attempted to throw, the Prince's eyes wide in surprise.

"Do it again and you're dead", the man spat, his resolve showing in the threatening tone of his voice. He had armed his bow with a third arrow, everyone's hands raising in a form of surrender. Balin stepped forth.

"You're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?". The bow was instantly aimed for the cheerful Dwarf, his feet coming to a halt out of caution. "That barge over there. It wouldn't be for hire by any chance?". The stranger's brows creased, his weapon slowly being withdrawn.

"And what makes you think that I would help you?". The stranger gladly took the barrels you all had used, loading them into the boat with the others he had. Balin was the negotiator, offering every reason for this stranger to give refuge to and accept payment from you all. The man's coat, his three children and wife. To your surprise, the man was a widower. Alike to Balin, you felt the same remorse and shame creeping into your heart at these findings. A single father trying to raise his three children alone in a barren town of ice, water and poverty. You could see why he was cautious of you all.

"Oh, come on. Come on, enough of the niceties", Dwalin finally grunted.

"What's your hurry?", the bargeman shot back.

"What's it to you?".

"I would like to know who you are". His brown hues crossed over you all, lingering on you for a brief moment. "And what you are doing in these lands".

"We are just simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills". A lie from Balin, but a well told lie. The bargeman had no reason to believe him and he most likely didn't, his eyes crossing over you again.

"And what about you?", he asked, directing his attention to the one who stood out the most. Female and human in a troupe of male Dwarves. It was a very uncommon sight indeed. "What's your story?".

"It's none of your business", Kili snapped.

"I don't believe I was asking you".

"This is my family", you replied, gathering the archer's attention wholeheartedly. The Dwarves felt some part of their hearts warming at the thought of you considering them family. You'd spent many months with them, lived through many hardships and they knew that you'd meant your words. It showed in your eyes. The stranger's brows rose, an amused smile playing on his lips,

"Thirteen Dwarves is quite an unusual family for a human, wouldn't you think?".

"Hardly", you replied, continuing Balin's lie with more truths of your own. "We've been through the worst together. I love them. And I would be prepared to give my all to see our kin again". The bargeman saw the truth of your words in your keen gaze, but his instincts were calling to him.

"Are you certain that you not a Ranger of the wilds, baring the gifts of your true kin??". Your expression remained neutral. How had he known??

"My true kin??".

"Your sharp senses. You heard my coming before that of your family. And you bare the mark of Ithilien on your leather boots. A tree crowned with six stars and a crescent moon". Your silence was answer enough for the bowman, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. He was a harder man to fool than you'd first presumed. His eyes flickered to Balin with a knowing smile. " 'Simple merchants', you say??".

"We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?", Thorin chimed in. With reluctance still prominent in his demeanour, the stranger marked the barrels he'd pulled from the water,

"I know where these barrels came from".

"What of it?".

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well". The bargeman turned back to you all, readying his ship to depart. "No one enters Laketown, but by leave of the Master. All of his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil", he huffed, throwing rope at Balin. The Dwarf turned his attention to Thorin who mouthed something in Khuzdul, encouraging him to continue pushing the debate with the stranger. And push he did.

"I'll wager that there are ways to enter that town unseen!".

"Aye", he agreed. "But, for that, you would need a smuggler".

"For which we would pay double", Balin insisted almost pleadingly.

Something suddenly snapped in this stranger, causing him to relent and follow your cause. It wasn't the money he was promised, but the desperation he'd seen all too many times before in those he loved. After accepting thanks from both yourself and Bilbo for his help, the man introduced himself as Bard. He set off with you all post-haste, setting his course for Laketown. The misty haze covering the water was thick, the waters almost black and dead, save for the movement of the vessel you stood in. Bard used a large oar for a rudder placed at the back of the boat, steering the ship through the dark. "Look out!!", Bofur had shouted, spotting jagged cliffs ahead, spotting randomly and towering by many feet in the waters. Bard steered by them with an expert precision.

"What are you trying to do?", Thorin piped up. "Drown us??".

"I was born and bred on these waters, master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here".

"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lakeman", Dwalin grumbled beneath his breath. "Let's say we throw him over the side and be done with it". Bilbo huffed in frustration,

"Bard. His name's Bard".

"How do ye know?", Bofur asked.

"Uh, I asked him??", the Hobbit answered as if it were obvious.

"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him", Dwalin shot back.

"We do not have to like him", Balin shrugged. "We simply have to pay him. Turn out your pockets, lads". You'd already given Balin your coin purse, taking to leaning stiffly leaning against the right side of the boat. The conversations faded from your ears, the cold air still nipping at your skin. Your eyes came to a soft close, riddled with exhaustion. A burning warmth enveloped your numb hands, two larger ones coming to rest upon them. You knew those callouses, your gaze falling to your right. Kili's hazel hues were set upon the waters, as your own had been.

"I never got to thank you for saving my hide", you mumbled, offering his larger hands a caress. "Again". Guilt played within your gaze, his eyes meeting yours with a slightly amused smile. "I'm sorry, Kee".

"I am too. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way that I did either. You were just worried. I would have been".

"I'm still worried", you confessed, brushing his fringe from his face, noting his skin with concern. "You're so pale, Kee". The back of your hand pressed to his forehead. "You're burning up". He removed your hand with a great amount of gentleness, rejection needling your heart. You'd spied his leg, dark blood weeping through the fabrics wrapped around it. The Prince drew your gaze with his breathtaking smile,

"I'll be fine, (Y/n). You'll see".

Those same words echoed in your head with Kili splayed across Bard's bed only a day later. You'd seen his eyes become red with inflammation and exhaustion, seen his skin turn a shade of pale white. You'd seen him become weaker with every passing hour, now unable to stand properly. All you had seen, despite his assurances, was his slow suffering. And it was killing you from the inside out.

Every part of him was rippling in agony, his body trying to burn off the poison raging in his blood to no avail. Sweat was trailing down the Princeling's skin, matting his hair. His breaths were erratic in his struggle to breathe. "(Y/n)", his voice cracked, his hazel eyes almost terrifyingly dull, yet clouded with fear. He felt a fool now, having ignored your words of warning on his injury. Because some part of him understood now, alike to yourself, that he was dying. He had been all along. Hot tears stung his eyes, his fingers barely able to reach for your hand. Taking your lower lip into your teeth, you tried to keep from breaking down. You had to remain strong for Kili, but hope was disappearing with every passing second. He squeezed the fingers you'd offered him with what little strength he could muster. "I'm— I'm so sorry". A pained groan left him, trying to restrain the urge he had to move.

"Don't start that", you told him, returning the grip on your hand. "No goodbyes yet, Kili. We can still save you". Bard brought out a box of various herbs on a separate table. All were useless to Oin.

"None of these are any good to me. Do y' have any kingsfoil??".

"Kingsfoil? It's a weed?", Bard replied, brows creasing in confusion. "We feed it to the pigs". Kili's grip suddenly became painful on your hand, feeling as if a hot knife had been plunged through him. A wail escaped his throat that had you wincing, Fili rushing to your side again to offer not only his brother comfort, but you as well. The eldest Princeling had tried to convince you to leave with Thorin, promising you that this was only benign. Now, Fili was grateful that you'd stayed, not allowing your friends to go this alone. He was facing the possibility of losing his younger brother this very evening and here you were, holding the blonde's hand with your spare one to alleviate the stress. Amidst Kili's groans of pain, Bofur rushed to the table, exclaiming something about Kingsfoil.

"Don't move!", he'd told the younger Prince, recieving a pointed glare from him in return. Bard had left the house with his son Bain and a black arrow in tow. It was very possible, given the tremors you'd felt this evening, that Smaug had awakened. However, Bain had returned sooner than expected, claiming that his father had been pursued by guards and the black arrow hidden safely. Hope was fading faster by the second as the tense waiting began. The air was eerily quiet in Laketown, save for the odd cries from the Dwarf in your care. You all waited on Bofur, praying that the intuitive Dwarf would return with the herbs. Sigrid stepped outside, praying for her father's return as well as Bofur's.

"Da?", she called out, hearing movement along the wooden boardwalks of the town. When turning to retreat inside, her blood-curdling scream caught your attention. Sigrid tried to close the door, the Orc that had tried to strike her jamming his sword between it.

"Get away from the door!!", you yelled, Sigrid leaping back only to get thrown on one of the chairs, moving to hide under the table with her younger sister. Fili had charged from your side and into the Orc, battling by hand. More came crashing in through the roof, both Bain and yourself using the furniture at your disposal to fight them off. It became a struggle to fight their growing numbers in your attempt to protect Bard's children as well as Kili.

On any other occasion, you would've despised her presence, yet now you couldn't be more grateful for the extra set of hands Tauriel offered as she stepped into the room with her blades drawn. Her keen emerald eyes scanned the room, immediately beginning her onslaught against the growing number of Orcs in Bard's living room. Legolas leapt in not too soon after, joining your fight against the hellish creatures. You spoke not a word to either of them, taking their help as an advantage. Another wail from Kili broke the room, seeing that an Orc had gripped his injured leg, pulling him along the bed. Tauriel threw a knife into the skull of the Orc, the Princeling falling to the floor with a cry. You'd rushed to his side, Legolas flanking your defence. His skills with Elven daggers surpassed even the skill of Tauriel, weaving through the room like a graceful, yet sharp wind. "Get down!", Fili had yelled, pulling Bard's children behind the fallen table to hide. Kili had grabbed Tauriel's dagger from the dead Orc who had attacked him, using it to try flanking your defence and Tauriel's. Instantaneously, he'd collapsed with a scream, one of the Orcs vaulting from the room in its escape. The battle was forgotten, your makeshift weapons clattering to the floor. You heaved Kili's heavy body into your arms, the Prince now writhing in excruciating pain.

"Kili", you tried to calm him, your voice tremoring with the chilling anxiety rushing through you. Oin and Fili sprinted to your side with urgency, Tauriel's mouth falling open at the wound on Kili's leg. Black blood dripped onto the floor, the Morgul poisons all too familiar to the Elf.

"You killed them all", Bain gasped, almost feeling sick at the sight of his home.

"There are others", Legolas stated, readying his weapons to face of with your shared foes once more. "Tauriel, come". He beckoned his counterpart, hesitation showing in her features.

"We're losing him!", Oin begged, looking to Tauriel for help. She was capable, her people far more skilled than your own in the arts of medicine. Her eyes were wide, darting between you all and the retreating form of the Elven Prince. Her duty to the world, to her Prince Legolas surpassed the needs of your Prince, your best friend. Despite her curiosity of Kili, Tauriel didn't share the feelings for Kili that he had for her. For the Dwarven Prince, it was almost like love at first sight, continuing to be enamoured by her, her graceful and kind spirit, her smile. For Tauriel, it was a silly dream to pursue love with a Dwarf. He was handsome for one of his kind, but her heart lied with her duties, her people and with the man she'd slowly come to love. Legolas. Despite his father's wishes, she was not one to easily give up in the pursuit of love and it was clearly requited by the Prince. You envied her for that reason. Tauriel moved past your group without anymore hesitation.

Every part of you stung with hurt for Kili, knowing that he would feel that same agony you had alongside his current ailments. Unbridled rage filled your heart, watching as she left him helpless, screaming. "So that's it??", you called to Tauriel, allowing Fili to take his brother whilst you stood to confront her. "You'll just let him die??". The redhead turned, confusion etched into her expression.

"And what would you have me do? Orcs are running rampant, more innocents will die if I do not help them". Tears fell freely from your eyes.

"He's dying!!", you roared, gesturing to Kili. "He hasn't time! Save him!! Please!".

"I cannot linger—".

"Bullshit!! He opened his heart to you, Tauriel!! You can't leave him like this!!", you bellowed. You saw in her gaze that perhaps she knew of Kili's attraction to her. Yet, you'd come to understand why she'd taken to ignoring it.

"I can't—", she whispered with a shake of her head, turning again to leave.

"Please, Tauriel", your voice broke, lowering to a whisper only she could hear, "I love him". And that's when Tauriel understood. Guilt swam in her gaze when she looked upon you again. The stabbing pain of unrequited love sat heavy in your eyes.

"I'm sorry", she murmured, the entire apology heartfelt and genuine. You watched, helplessly as the Elf darted from the balcony and to the rooftops beyond, falling to your knees. A frustrated cry left your lips, Sigrid covering her mouth from seeing you this distraught. Bofur stumbled through the door, baring the Kingsfoil weed. He'd spied your tear stricken face with terror, seeing the desperate situation he'd returned to.

"There's no time!!", you shouted, staggering to your feet.

"(Y/n)? What will ye do??", he asked, all the eyes in the room falling to you.

With surity, you replied, "I have to save him".

You ordered Tilda and Sigrid to ready you some cloths and warm to hot water to best extract the essences from the herbs. Oin, Fili, Bofur and Bain took to lifting the now thrashing Prince onto the kitchen table. Being a Ranger from the South, kingsfoil was commonly used for healing practices by your kin, but you were not schooled in medicine. Your skills were honed on navigating the lands, tracking, stealth and basic combat. You felt useless, only faintly remembering hearing a few healing chants. Most were in Elvish, some in the common tongue of men. The words were lost on you, save for one or two chants. You would have to try.

"Are y' sure y' know what yer doin', Lass?", Oin piped up, watching as you peeled the leaves and flowers into the water.

"No", you huffed a bitter chuckle, your eyes falling down to his own. "But what choice do I have?". Fili eyed you from where he held down his brother, his ocean gaze glistening with hope.

"I have faith in you", he murmured.

"As do I", Bofur added, smiling to lessen the pressure. Oin nodded, giving you his seal of approval. He admired your gaul to act swiftly and take initiative. You would make an excellent healer in his opinion.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped Kili's leg, a pained scream leaving his lips. He writhed, kicking away your touch. His eyes had darkened, having no perception but the agony he felt. "Hold him down!! Please!", you begged the lads, all of them contributing. You tore the fabric away from Kili's wound, nausea creeping into your throat as it had the first time. The wound was still bruised and open, weeping black blood as a large swollen mound with dark veins. No time, you reminded yourself, reaching into the water. Scrunching all the leaves you could find into your palms, you silently prayed that the blood of Numenór flowed true within you as you began the healing chants you could remember. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you commanded, pushing the kingsfoil into the wound. His back arched, a piercing cry leaving his lips. Your eyes closed applying pressure. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death".

"Tilda!", Sigrid shouted, the two joining in holding down Kili's limbs as he continued to struggle from your touch. Oin and Fili watched in awe as you repeated your words over and over. Your chant was in common tongue, yet it seemed to breathe life into the room itself. You had begun to think and worry that nothing would work, that Kili was too far gone. Tears slipped again from your eyes, your voice remaining sterdy despite the tightness wanting to creep through your throat. Your mind was wholly set on saving him, imagining him as spriteful as the day you'd met him. Love and care poured through every fibre of your being and perhaps the Divines felt it?? You prayed that they'd help encompass all that energy for him if they did. Feeling the tension slipping from Kili's limbs slowly, you heard his cries dying into calmer, but ragged breaths. It was working..

"May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you repeated with more fervour, finally having the courage to open your eyes to meet his own. His hazel hues were no longer pale and dull. They were now full of life. His lips were parted, eyelashes fluttering in some semblance of shock, as if you'd pulled him from water to save him from drowning. And you had saved him. The darkness that clouded his vision, blinding him to all else was broken. It was as if he was watching the sun rising for the first time, seeing that divine light cracking the dark horizons open to see you. There was only you in his line of sight, pulling him like a lifeline. Kili found himself wondering how you'd ever come to be so beautiful. The infatuation he'd held for Tauriel paled in comparison to the affection for you that wormed its way past his broken heart and into his soul. And perhaps it had always been there?? The Prince felt a sense of relief fill him, coming to understand why he'd always felt differently for you. It had been you all along, he was only blinded to it.

Kili's pain faded from him, his body no longer fighting the poison. It had been neutralised, expelled from him. Death couldn't touch him any longer, or so he felt. His body instead burned with a warm, pure light. Every part of him relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving the Prince as his breathing turned to some form of normality. His blood ran red through your fingers, cleansed now. The swelling would slowly decrease over time, as would the inflammation and bruising. You smiled, crying from your relief. The stiffness in your limbs created by the tense situation had dissipated. A breathy laugh, wet from your tears left your throat. You'd done it, you'd saved him. Bofur happily placed a hand on your own, both Tilda and Sigrid alight with joy over this victory. The girls circled the table, taking you into their shared embrace, giving you words of assurance, congratulations and gratitude for helping protect them. Fili grinned, sharing in some semblance of relieved laughter, resting his forehead on his brother's in a familial embrace.

Everyone had relaxed, leaving the room to allow you to continue in your endeavours to finish your work on Kili's wound. You pulled the kingsfoil from the scar, rinsing a cloth with the water the herbs had soaked in. The water was still warm and clean, fragrant with the essences of the weeds. You wiped the fabric over the wound, brushing away dirt, dead flesh and irritants. Once it was clean and dry, you started to bind his leg with cleaner fabrics that Bain had sought for you.

"I have never seen the healing practices of the Dunédain until this evening. That there was a privilege to witness", Oin marveled, turning to the blonde Prince who had also been in some state of awe at what he'd seen.

Softly, your hands worked at the bindings on Kili's leg, placing the material thickly over his wound to ensure it was well protected from weeping blood. "(Y/n)", The Princeling beneath you croaked, his voice hoarse and raw from his screaming. You smiled with a wistfulness, relieved to see him so at peace.

"It's okay, Kee", you breathed. "I'm here. Lie still for me, alright?". His hazel hues held an emotion you couldn't read, fluttering in their attempt to stay awake. A tired smile slowly etched onto his face, twinkling weakly with his usual cheekiness.

"You're so,—", his voice cracked. "—so beautiful".

Your brows knitted together in confusion when you glanced at him from his leg. He was clearly delusional. He had to have been.

"You're a bit dazed, Kee", you smiled, politely dismissing his words. "You need to rest".

"You are", he insisted beneath his breath. "You're so, so beautiful". You felt his warming fingertips brushing over the hand that rested on his thigh, the goosebumps from his touch spindling across your skin. "You were crafted by the sunglow of another world. Your light saved me. It wasn't a dream". Your lips parted, unsure of his kind words and the clarity behind them.

Kili breathed as if it were difficult to talk, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion. His smile still remained, eyeing your hands when you brushed your thumb over the fingers that rested upon your own.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, a light sleep taking the Prince as you continued to work. Once securing his bandages with a light knot, you leant down, brushing your lips over his forehead with a silent prayer that the Company was alive in Erebor. That the ruin that Bard had predicted wouldn't come to pass. Fili shared your sentiment, his eyes worriedly meeting your own before he embraced you in gratitude, thanking you once more for saving his brother. But, your complacency was only temporary.

When you stumbled onto the rocky shores in the cold light of the dawn, you beheld desperation, sadness, loss and terror amidst the ruin that had come to pass. Smaug's onslaught was without mercy or conscience. Bard had been right all along. Now, you were praying that he was alive with his son. You'd grown worried for the bargeman and his son after seeing Smaug plummet from the skies.

Frantically, you searched the shores for the two males. Tilda was in your arms, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. Sigrid clung to your free hand, shouting for her father. The Dwarves were readying the cannoe you'd all travelled in for the trip to Erebor. It felt wrong to leave everyone behind. You wouldn't leave yet, not until the girls had their father back.

Kili was hardly focusing on helping his kin with the small boat, his hazel eyes admiring you from afar. "Kee?", Fili called to him, beckoning him to help.

"Eyeing the lass?", Bofur asked with some suspicion and confusion, a smile twitching on his lips.

"What if I was?", the younger Prince shrugged, missing the hopeful glint in the older Dwarf's eye. "I have to make sure she's alright". Fili turned to Bofur, his brows raised. Both said no more in watching Kili ascend the shores. You had begun to make your return, Bard and Bain now reunited with the girls in the small encampment.

With exhaustion heavy in your steps, you smiled at the brunette Princeling on his unexpected approach. Your mind flashed back to those warm callouses brushing against your skin, goosebumps flushing across your arms at the thought. He'd hardly spoken a word to you since the previous night, making you question if he'd even been coherent when he mumbled those sweet words to you. Perhaps it was your wishful thinking in the end?

"Ready to go?", you'd asked him, beginning to stray past him whilst he'd stopped.

"(Y/n)", he called to you, the softness in his voice halting your steps. Your brows furrowed,

"Kili, we need to go".

"I need to talk to you". His hand reached for your own before you could turn away, gently tugging at your smaller fingers. Even after all this time, you found yourself unable to ignore the intensity of his hazel hues, something unreadable sitting hard within his gaze. "Please", he spoke, barely above a breath.

Instinctively, you turned fully to face him, your thumb brushing over his larger hand. "Of course", you replied, almost unsteady with nervousness. Some part of you felt that he may assure you that he had no feelings for you, that his words to you had been hollow. And you prayed that if he were to reject you, that he'd do so softly.

"I just want to say thank you", he confessed. "For saving my life".

"Kili, you needn't thank me", you insisted, his other hand pressing something smooth and cold into your palm. "What are you—".

"The days are growing darker, (Y/n)", he cut in, clasping your fingers around the object. His second hand warmed your cold, stinging skin. "Last night, I realised how little time we may have left and I have grown so afraid that I won't have the time to say what I must to those who matter". Your brows creased in concern, always content to allow him to express his innermost thoughts. "I'm giving you this token. As a promise".

"Kili—", you tried to desist him to no avail.

"Amrâlimê", he hushed you with a silken voice. It was like the word had caressed your very soul. A smile splayed slowly onto his features whilst his eyes seemed to read yours. "You felt it too, didn't you?".

"Felt what, Kili? I don't know what that word means", you replied with a quiver to your whisper, his grin growing.

"I think you do", he bounced back, a featherlight playfulness present in his glimmering gaze. "It's my promise to you. That I'll always come back to you". You saw the glassing of tears within his gaze. "Even at death's door, I will come back to you".

"Why would you promise such a thing to me, Kili?", you asked, confusion clouding over your expression. "When your heart clearly belongs to another??". To Tauriel...

A soft laugh slipped from the Princeling's lips, an affectionate glow radiating from his tender gaze. "It was infatuation, an idea that I'd tried to pursue with Tauriel", he murmured with a soft shake to his head. "It was foolish to pursue that which was but a shadow to how I feel for you, (Y/n). I know now how I feel— how I've felt all along for you and I'm not afraid. I was just too blind to see our connection for what it was". You felt his fingers squeeze yours, his eyes playing across your more delicate features. "For that, I hope you can forgive me and realise that my words to you last night were not of a daze, but from my heart. You make me feel alive".

Ignoring the tears that stung in your eyes, you finally felt as if your own heart had been freed, your smile like a pure light shining on the Prince. The warmth of Kili's spare hand reached to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over your glistening eyes.

The short gap between you was no more when your head had dipped, the softness of his lips engulfing your own in a deep caress. Kili's hand twined into your curls, pulling you flush into him whilst his other hand remained with your own, as if to solidify his promise to you. Your thumb worked soothing caresses over his rough skin, getting lost in his kiss before you heard whistles from the shore nearby.

Your lips parted from the Prince's, quickly missing the sensation of his hot touch in the biting cold of the morning breeze. Whistling and clapping, Bofur stood upon the cannoe, overjoyed at the scene playing before him. "If you both are done, we do plan on travelling today! ", Fili shouted, a playful grin on his expression.

Both yourself and Kili lapsed into a soft bout of laughter, sharing an affectionate glance before you allowed the Princeling to finally lead you to the boat to travel home.

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hey readers!!

I hope you all enjoyed this fic!! I have a LOTR fic in the works as we speak, so keep your eyes peeled, folks! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! If you wish to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤

As always, thank you all for your support in my works!! ❤❤

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Translations;

Tolo hí = "come on" (Elvish/Sindarin)

Ishkh khakfe andu null = "go pour excrement on your head" (Khuzdul)

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TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl @deadlymistletoe

[fckmini]

Hii, im new to your blog and I love your work!! I was wondering if you could do a thranduil x fem elf reader who is the princess of nature so she can control nature etc and they could of met when they were younger and they were arranged to marry and fluffy ending please and thank you :))

I hope you like this @chocotacobread ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :) im sorry it took so long!

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Spring - Thranduil x fem elf! Reader romantic fluff

I’m sorry if its too waffly but i wanted to write something pretty! 

Thranduil x reader relationship - fluff and romance :)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

this is written as a part 2 to this request!!

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-guy-of-middle-earth @catnip-and-caprice

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It was finally spring. Its arrival had always been a cherished event in the Woodland Realm, and this year was no different. A homely warmth seeped into Thranduil's skin, embracing him tenderly. The royal garden, awash with the tender hues of spring, was alive with the soft whisper of cherry blossoms. The sun’s tender touch enlivened soft petals that danced in the wind. They swirled, fluttering gently to the ground like the delicate brush of eyelashes in the morning. The King stood, a spectator to the seasons, his thoughts drifting back in time. 

Many springs ago, this very garden witnessed the first meeting of Thanduil and his beloved wife. It had been an arranged marriage, as is custom for elven royalty. The sun had been gleaming with the same fond brightness as it was now. It cast a golden hue that glittered in the iridescent dew that adorned the grass: nature's pearls. He was waiting with bated breath to meet his betrothed when she floated in. A breath of life. A sigh of sunshine. Ripples of grass blossomed beneath each step she took, leaving a constellation of wildflowers and daisies behind her.  The air was thick with pollen, heavy with the promise of new life. Otherworldly, even amongst elves. Her very essence seemed intertwined with the earth, and the elven king had been entranced from that first moment. 

“Thranduil,” her voice had been soft, melodic, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” he had replied, bowing with a grace befitting a king, though his heart had skittered like that of a newborn deer. His eyes of starlight met hers, the deep hue of the sun at dawn. Sunshine incarnate, flowers bloomed before her, but none more so than the elven king. Her smile made the world itself seem dim, her laugh was purer than the tinkling of a rushing stream. He had worn his finest robes, plaited his silver, moonlight, hair in traditional braids. Yet, hers was ornate beyond compare, decorated with a rainbow of blooms, as opalescent as an aurora. 

In that moment, two souls had entwined, as is common in elven life-bonds. Once a sapling, their marriage blossomed into a bond that neither could have anticipated. The famously icy temperament of the king thawed beneath her touch and gaze. He melted before her. Their hands, desperate for the nourishing affection of the other, would reach out, hopeful, longing like ancient roots seeking water. The time in his life before her was but a shadow of a memory, too distant and too dark to recall. 

"My King," a loving voice broke his reverie. She approached, eternally radiant, still leaving a trail of blossoming flowers behind her.

"My queen," he replied, his voice thick with warmth and reverence.

She joined him. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?" she asked, her hand slipping into his, fitting perfectly as it always had.

"It is." He replied, their eyes met, twinkling with the same light that had captivated the other all those years ago.

Together, they stood in silence, watching the cherry blossoms continue to dance in the breeze. The soft murmur of spring stirred around them. The garden, once a witness to the beginning of their love, now stands testament to its enduring strength. Its growth, how they had flourished, was much like the nature that his queen so cherished.

As they stood there, enveloped in the beauty of spring, they both knew that their love would continue to bloom, season after season, for all eternity. 

[lathalea]

Entangled 5/10

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit)

Rating: G (subject to change)

Warnings: ANGST

Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past…

You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea).

A/N: It’s been a while but I’ve managed to finish this chapter so I can finally share it with you! Let’s see how the new Queen Under the Mountain is doing…

Special thanks to the most wonderful friend in the world @legolasbadass for your amazing support, encouragement and betaing this chapter 💙💙💙

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KHUZDUL:

Azsâlul'abad - the dwarven kingdom of the Lonely Mountain

Khagal'abbad - Blue Mountains

‘Urdêk - [ereborean] Kingdom Under the Mountain

Zabdûna undu ‘Urd - Queen Under the Mountain

Aklah'ân - “Source River”, the Dwarvish name for the River Running

Malasul'abbad - Misty Mountains

Khazad-dûm - Dwarrowdelf, known among the Elves as Moria

Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains

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✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5...

✨ Entangled Masterlist

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The feast hall echoed with the sounds of music, and dozens and dozens of candles flickered as Mista twirled around in his arms. She wore her pale blue gown adorned with sweetwater pearls — he was attired in the royal dark blue garments of the House of Durin. Strength slumbered in the way he held her — and yet his touch was gentle as he led her through the chamber, navigating between all the other couples. They danced without end, his warm gaze meeting hers, his smile unwavering. It was like soaring through the sky on a cloud. She felt everyone’s eyes on them and heard their whispers.

“They look so perfect together.”

“Simply stunning.”

“He has eyes only for her.”

“Look at them dance! It’s as if they were made for each other…”

“Oh, but they are…”

When the music came to an end, Mista saw that they were the only couple left dancing. He still held her in his arms, not ready to let her go. Something flickered in his cornflower blue eyes, and then his beard brushed against her cheek, and she heard his murmured words like a distant rumble of a summer storm:

“My Queen, shall we make a little spectacle of ourselves?”

“Always, My King,” she chuckled.

His arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer, her body pressed against his, and then she felt his lips brushing against hers lightly, then giving her a little peck or two, making her whole body tingle with anticipation. The guests around them cheered, but she paid no heed to the surroundings — and neither did he.

Mista sensed the impatience in his every caress, the impatience that finally exploded when he pressed his lips against hers, so hot, so hungry, making her breathless. And when he teased open her lips and claimed them completely, she quite forgot about the rules of propriety. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened their kiss even further, giving in to her own hunger.

When their lips parted, she heard his low chuckle.

“Oh, Mista…” He gave her a peck on the corner of her lips. “Your kisses are sweet like honey, my love.”

My love…

Those words echoed in Mista’s ears when she opened her eyes.

It was only a dream. So perfect. But only a dream.

Chasing away the mocking afterimages from her mind, she found herself staring at the beautifully embroidered silks of the bed canopy above her. It took her a moment to recognize where she was — not at home in Tumunzahar, but half a world away from the cosy old room she had left behind. This place was her new bedchamber in the royal wing of Azsâlul'abad. It was one of the private rooms of the Queen Under the Mountain.

Mista, Zabdûna undu ‘Urd. She wondered if she would ever get used to the title that felt much too large for her. Like a pair of travelling boots inherited from a much bigger family member.

Her gaze rested on the crown and the ceremonial key on a chain she received at her coronation — the symbols of her stature — and yet she did not feel like a queen in the slightest. She wondered how many generations of queens before her wore them. Were they all wise and sensible rulers? Were they all beautiful? Were they happy in their marriages? Were they loved by their… people?

The ancient royal insignia lay in silence on a velvet pillow, unwilling to divulge their secrets, as if urging Mista to resume her new duties.

Before the wedding night, Katla had explained to her that those exquisite pieces were usually to be put away every evening, but it was customary not to disturb the newly wedded couple during their first night together. Mista still remembered how she turned away so that Katla would not notice her blush, which only intensified when the maid gave her best wishes for conception on the wedding night. Such openness was shocking to Mista at first, but then she recalled hearing similar wishes during the wedding feast even from the most respectable Longbeard matrons of Azsâlul'abad. Different clan, different customs, she thought. From what Katla let slip before she left, a new babe born in the line of Durin was exactly what the inhabitants of the restored Kingdom Under the Mountain were looking forward to.

The possibility of bringing a child into the world one day was anything but unpleasant to Mista. Perhaps another Dwarf-woman in her position would have felt the pressure of the people’s expectations on her shoulders, but not her. At home, in Tumunzahar, one of the tasks she had gladly devoted her time to was helping to raise her siblings’ children. Besides her sister Adla, she had two brothers, and all three of them were blessed with multiple offspring. Deep down, she was certain that her father used their family’s well-documented fertility as a bargaining chip when hammering out the marriage contract with King Thorin II.

Clauses pertaining to producing children were nothing out of the ordinary when it came to arranged marriages, especially among noble families. Dwarven children did not come to the world as often as many couples would have wished for, and too many of the ancient bloodlines had already perished. This could not happen with the most important one — the line of Durin — and Mista understood her duty well. What was more, she did not mind it at all; she had often dreamed about having children of her own. With no luck in the marriage market, for many years she had thought she would be deprived of this particular Mahal’s blessing. And then Mista’s world was turned upside down when she was informed that she was about to marry none other than Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarf she had secretly dreamed of for years. Since then, an image of holding a tiny blue-eyed pebble in her arms warmed her heart as she counted down the days until her wedding.

Now, she was the royal consort of Thorin Oakenshield — the Queen Under the Mountain. It felt surreal. As a second daughter of a Broadbeam Lord, she was neither a Longbeard, nor a princess. The life she had always envisioned for herself was supposed to be simple and uneventful. Until the day her father informed Mista that she would become the Queen Under the Mountain, her days had mostly been filled with administrative work and family obligations. From time to time, she had allowed herself a moment or two to daydream about Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarf she carried a torch for so long.

Despite being his newly wedded wife, their marriage had still not been consummated. It was not easy to chase away the memory of Thorin’s hasty retreat into his chambers two nights ago. The dream that still lingered in her mind made it sting even more than the morning before. Mista bit the inside of her cheek to stop tears from forming in her eyes. She had to remember that she was a queen now. Queens always behaved with decorum and never let their emotions show, at least not in public. It was time for her to put all the teachings she had received into practice and focus on positive things. Still slightly groggy, she sat up in the bed, yawned and stretched.

Even though Mista’s dream was now gone, it made another memory surface in her mind. The events of the previous evening. Her fingers travelled to her tender lips.

Thorin Oakenshield kissed her yesterday.

That had to be a dream, too. Was it not? No. That was most definitely not a dream. That kiss truly happened — it only felt like a dream. Recalling the events at the celebratory dinner, she felt a slight tingling on her lips. She still remembered how the king, her husband, whispered into her ear, his voice low like a distant rumble of a storm, and she remembered the heat of his breath against her earlobe. Mista closed her eyes. She did not know how she managed to keep her composure last night when Thorin towered over her, so very tall and handsome and overwhelmingly majestic with his crown gracing his temples.

When he moved into the kiss, her heart was beating so fast, and she was so giddy and so terrified, and all the guests were staring, and she closed her eyes and… First, his beard grazed against her cheek, then her lungs filled with the scent of pines and precious oils, and then something brushed against her lips, and it felt nice, and after that, she shifted on her feet, and then — then it happened. His lips touched hers. Softly, gently, demurely. Any other kiss in those circumstances would have been unseemly. Yet, it felt more than enough; more than she had ever imagined. He truly kissed her. And Mista kissed him back — not only for the sake of appearances, but no one had to know that. What mattered was that the kiss — that wonderful kiss — although very chaste, was now etched in her memory forever. Her fluttering heart, the warmth of his skin, the coarse softness of his beard, her hand in his, the echoes of people chanting in her ears, and the sudden dizziness she felt just after their lips parted. But he held her still, steadying her until she sat down in her chair again.

Thorin Oakenshield, her lord husband, kissed her.

Even if this kiss for him might have been only a formal gesture forced upon them both, for Mista it was a dream come true. No. It was better than a dream. He kissed her. And he was careful and considerate, so very much different from any of the mere handful of kisses she experienced in the past. This was the best kiss she had ever had. Perfect. Just like him .

“Good morning, Your Majesty, have you slept well?” Katla entered the chamber with a breakfast tray, making Mista snap out of her reverie. Her daydreaming had to wait.

As her new maid placed the tray on her lap and began preparing the room for the day, Mista put on her glasses and mumbled a few platitudes to Katla. The coal-haired Dwarf-woman was of similar age as herself, yet she seemed to possess ten times more wit and confidence than Mista. It was apparent that she knew her duties well, and she was skilled, while Mista was groping in the dark.

Sighing, the new queen stared at the abundance of food in front of her. Eggs, cheese, a bowl of porridge, some strange fruit, and honey, and…

“Will my…” Mista searched for the right words. Act like a queen. “Is His Majesty already awake? I would like to break my fast with him.”

“I’m sorry, m’lady, but His Majesty left his chambers a while ago.” Katla clasped her hands. “I can ask Ranul, His Majesty’s valet, about future breakfast arrangements if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” Mista reached for a slice of bread, trying to hide her disappointment. She should have expected this. The King Under the Mountain had more important things to do than entertain her. He had the whole kingdom to rebuild; he could not waste his time on idle chatter with Mista.

“His Majesty is an early riser, m’lady.” She heard Katla’s voice.

“I understand.” Mista spread the honey on the bread and forced herself to take a bite. Of course, he would already be awake, she silently chided herself once more. She wondered what Katla must have been thinking at that moment.

“Is the honey to your liking, m’lady?” The maid asked cheerfully, as if oblivious to her thoughts. “A whole barrel arrived a week ago from the Vales of Anduin. A wedding gift from Lord Beorn.”

“I have never eaten anything like it before.” Mista attempted to smile. Despite the rich sweetness spilling on her tongue, the food seemed to turn to ash in her mouth.

“I’ll let the kitchens know. They’ll make sure it’s on your breakfast tray every morning. Do you have any other wishes, m’lady? Your favourite breakfast dishes, perhaps?”

“This looks perfect. Thank the cook from me.”

“I will, m’lady, thank you. He will be glad to hear it. He is already overjoyed that he can finally prepare proper breakfasts for a crowned head!”

“What do you mean?” Mista turned to her maid. “What about breakfasts for His Majesty?”

“His Majesty is… not very particular about his breakfasts. And his other meals, too. He usually eats something simple later on, while working in his study.” Katla lowered her voice somewhat. “The only time the cook was truly happy happened when His Majesty was in recovery.”

“In recovery?”

“After the Battle, m’lady. When ‘Urdek was reclaimed. He was gravely wounded and the healers were not certain if…” The maid broke off and cleared her throat. “But all is well that ends well, as they say. Lord Óin, the Head Healer, said that His Majesty had to replenish his strength and eat well, and so the cook was over the moon about all the refined dishes he was finally able to prepare. And so the King…”

Katla’s words were interrupted by the sound of the mine bell. It struck ten times. Mista covered her mouth with a hand.

“Oh no! Is it so late? I slept for too long! I have a meeting with Lord Balin in one bell! I’m going to be late!” Panicked, she threw the quilt aside in an attempt to leave the bed, almost toppling over her breakfast tray. Only Katla’s lightning-fast reflexes prevented its contents from landing on the snow-white bed linen.

“I’ll prepare your garments right away, m’lady!” The maid’s voice reached Mista’s ears as she ran to the bath chamber.

There was an old dwarven saying “silence is golden”. For Mista, at that very moment, time was golden — more precious than any treasure. As precious as the memory of the King’s lips brushing against her lips. She would not fail him. Whatever happened, she could not be late for her first official meeting!

A new day had begun for the Queen Under the Mountain.

***

The corridors of ‘Urdek were almost silent despite the late hour — eleven bells rang out in the depths of the Mountain when Mista finally left her rooms. The majority of the inhabitants of the kingdom were sleeping off the revels of the day before.

The sound of footsteps echoed against the stone walls as Mista walked the corridors, accompanied by Lord Balin — or simply Balin, as he insisted she call him. The revered King’s advisor offered to give her a quick tour of the royal wing and the adjacent areas where the most important officials worked. Despite the fact that a greater part of all those chambers, rooms, and corridors was damaged or completely destroyed by the dragon and therefore still uninhabitable, enough of them were in decent shape to make this part of the Mountain functional. The Kingdom Under the Mountain was truly vast; Mista’s home stronghold, the largest dwarven settlement in Khagal'abbad, the Blue Mountains, as the people of Men called them, was barely one-third of its size, or maybe even smaller. Tumunzahar, however, bustled with life, while the population of the spacious ‘Urdek had barely begun to grow after its re-establishment barely a year ago.

Balin introduced Mista to her own and the King’s staff, all lined up before her like warriors before battle. The royal army, Mista thought. An impressive group of scribes, Law Masters, Record Masters, and other advisors. She only wished she could feel like their general one day.

Among them stood a dwarf-woman called Embla, who — according to the King’s advisor — was supposed to be her new personal secretary, one of her closest attendants from now on. Her unruly red hair, sparkling eyes, and affinity for giggling made Mista like her from the very beginning. They chatted amicably on their way to yet another hall.

“Allow me to show you around the Queen’s Council Chamber,” Balin opened the door before them.

When they entered a spacious room, Mista looked around, taking in the surroundings: the large stone table in the centre, the chairs around it, and the heavy shelves by the walls; some of them empty, some of them filled with books, parchments, and scrolls. All this was ready for the Queen Under the Mountain — her own council chamber. It looked both promising and overwhelming at the same time.

“Am I to have a separate council?” She turned to Balin.

“Indeed, My Lady.”

“What about the King and his council? Are we not to work together?”

“It makes me glad to hear that you are willing to participate in the King’s Council, My Lady,” Balin smiled. “You will be more than welcome at its meetings. You should know, however, that traditionally, a Queen Under the Mountain has their own council to take care of the matters she chooses to focus on fully. For example, Queen Urtha, King Thrór’s wife, oversaw the housing situation and the workers’ wages, and she also worked closely with the Royal Almoner.”

“I see.” Mista clasped her hands together, feeling complete emptiness in her head. What was she supposed to do as a queen? She had not the slightest idea.

“The Queen picks the members of her council depending on the areas of her interest.” Embla added encouragingly.

“I will have to think about that for a bit.” Mista said. “First, I will have to get to know the kingdom better and see what the priorities are.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Embla consulted a small notebook she carried with her. “Which reminds me… according to your schedule, Your Majesty, you have been invited for a tour of the kingdom in the afternoon together with His Majesty King Thorin, Prince Fili, and Princess Fridvi.”

“Thank you, Embla, for reminding me. That will be helpful.” Mista admitted. She was truly looking forward to that meeting, exploring the most important places of ‘Urdek and spending a couple of hours in her lord husband’s company. Especially the latter. Perhaps, if luck allowed, there would even be an occasion for a private conversation with him? Something less formal and more similar to that conversation they had during that ball years ago? Her heart fluttered at the thought. The memory of that ball made her think of her dream and of the kiss they shared, and Mista had to turn her back to her attendants to hide her burning cheeks.

She barely noticed that she was now facing a wall fully covered by a tapestry that depicted a large group of figures — Dwarves, of course — gathered in a large rock cavern. Its walls were black with veins of green, so characteristic for the Lonely Mountain.

“Do you like this tapestry, Your Majesty?” Balin asked and continued, not waiting for her reply. “This scene depicts the foundation of ‘Urdek. Here, you can see King Thráin I, the one with the hammer, splitting a piece of rock and finding the Arkenstone. The scholars are not certain if he truly found it himself — it was almost one thousand years ago! But what we know is that these pieces of rock were used to build the throne on which our King Thorin sits during weekly audiences. Now, that light right there symbolises…”

The sound of screeching doors made Mista jump and turn towards the entrance of the chamber.

“Here you are, Mista — Your Majesty!” With the sound of heavy footsteps, her father’s brother, Lord Taran, entered the chamber, looking surprisingly refreshed as if the revelry of the previous days never happened. “It seems that we are about to have the first meeting of the Queen’s council!”

Even his opulent garments, red and copper, tailored in line with the latest Tumunzahar fashion, did little to make him appear less like a warrior and more like a courtier. With his tattoed cheeks and grey hair gathered in two braids behind his ears, he looked ready for battle. Mista felt her stomach tie itself in a knot.

“Good day, Uncle,” she forced her lips into a polite smile. “I’m afraid that you are mistaken. I have not yet chosen its members.”

“Worry not, my royal Niece,” he made a slight bow. “With me at your side, there will be no need for a large council.”

“By my side? Are you not returning to Tumunzahar with my parents?” Mista asked faintly. Please, no.

“How could I abandon my favourite Niece at such an important time? What would His Majesty and his people think if your own family abandoned you here, all alone, without any help?”

Balin cleared his throat.

”Lord Taran, rest assured that we will provide Her Majesty with expert advisors who…”

“I am certain that what you say is true,” the Broadbeam lord interrupted him, “but I believe Her Highness, my dearest Niece, would appreciate guidance in this and any other matters from a trusted family member as she adjusts to her new position, would you not, Mista?”

Mista felt her uncle’s eyes boring into her face. He called himself “a trusted family member” — trusted by her father but certainly not by her. She could not recall having even one conversation with him that did not revolve around her assisting him with new endeavours that would bring more power or riches to their family. Not once did Uncle Taran offer her a kind word — or even simply ask her how she was faring. When it came to him, she felt like a pawn, significant only when it was time for a new scheme of his and he needed some research to be done. And he never acknowledged her help. Mista often wondered how he would have acted towards her if she had been born a Dwarf-man. Would she be allowed to run her own business by now, just like her brothers? Probably. But she was a Dwarf-woman and among Broadbeams, such pursuits were frowned upon if undertaken by someone of her gender. Instead, she was expected to put her skills to use only behind closed doors, for the benefit of her family’s multiple business ventures, but never in her own name.

Family above all , the motto of her house said.

“Your silence worries me, Your Highness,” Lord Taran stepped towards her. “I am afraid that Lord Balin and your assistant may come to a wrong conclusion about my welcome here! Surely, this is not what you mean, dear Mista, is it?”

She felt Lord Balin’s gaze on herself as she spoke hastily, “Of course not, Uncle! I-I will be happy to have you in my council.”

Family above all.

Lord Taran rubbed his hands in joy.

“And I will be happy to aid you, Your Highness,” he bowed his head, but Mista noticed the glint of triumph in his eyes.

As she looked away in defeat, her gaze fell onto her long marriage braid clasped with a golden and onyx bead. It was placed there by Thorin, the King Under the Mountain. Mista was his wife now — the Queen — much more than an unremarkable Broadbeam lass.

Mustering all her courage, she replied, “I am glad to hear it. You will be the first to know about the first meeting of the council, after I have picked all the other members. And now, you will have to forgive me, dear Uncle, I have another meeting to attend to.”

On her way out of the chamber, Mista did not spare even a glance at Lord Taran. It was easy to imagine his cold stare, the one she had seen so many times when he was displeased with her. Her heart sank. Even here, hundreds of leagues away from her birthplace in Khagal'abbad, she would not be free from his influence. Instead of enjoying her independence for the first time in her life — as the queen of one of the greatest dwarven kingdoms — she would still be a pawn on the chessboard of her family’s making.

***

“I have heard so many stories about the Kingdom Under the Mountain but none of them spoke about this place!” Wide-eyed, Princess Fridvi tilted her head up, taking in the sight before her, with her husband, Prince Fili, standing beside her.

Mista followed her gaze, admiring the large underground waterfall that gracefully flowed out from the depths of the Mountain, glistening in the air, all the way to the small underground lake below the balcony they stood on. The humming sound of the cascading water made talking barely possible, but the air around them felt very fresh, like spring on the mountain slopes over Tumunzahar, and Mista enjoyed the feeling of tiny droplets of water that found their way to her face from time to time.

“The colour of the rock behind the waterfall makes it look as if the water was liquid silver, does it not?” Master Lofar, the head of the Engineering Guild, asked. He was a middle-aged Dwarf with curly copper hair gathered into one thick braid adorned with countless golden beads. With his vast knowledge of the Mountain, he seemed like the right person to manage a big part of the renovation work in the kingdom.

“Indeed, it is so beautiful!” Fridvi exclaimed in awe, shaking her head, her chestnut locks with several intricate braids among them falling softly down her shoulders.

“That colour is the reason why our King, may Mahal bless his rule, is called the lord of silver fountains by the people of Dale. Apparently, they believe that silver flows out straight from the bowels of our Mountain!” Master Lofar chuckled.

“The people of Dale have vivid imaginations,” Fili said. “If this was truly liquid silver, we would have all perished from thirst by now!”

“Indeed. This is the main spring from which the river Aklah'ân flows out and gives life to the Long Lake beyond Dale. Imagine if it was silver as well!” Master Lofar added in amusement.

“Even though only water flows here, it is much more breathtaking than our Sapphire Lake in our mountains of Khagal'abbad.” Princess Fridvi said.” Wouldn’t you agree, Fili?”

“For me, the prettiest thing here are the emerald pools of your eyes, my love,” her husband took her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, his gaze softening.

Mista quickly looked away, ignoring the tightness in her throat. For the fifth time — or perhaps sixth — she hopefully glanced at the nearest entrance to this cavern only to find it empty yet again. The King was nowhere to be seen. They were supposed to have met by this cavern more than half a bell ago, but there was no sign of him. Something must have delayed him. He could not have forgotten about this meeting, could he?

Princess Fridvi, Prince Fili, and her were supposed to be shown around the kingdom, and Mista had truly looked forward to exploring this realm together with her new husband. She wanted to see it through his eyes, perhaps hear him share some moments from his youth as he spoke of places closest to his heart. She had been looking forward to learning more about Thorin the Dwarf, not Thorin II, the King.

Stealing another glance at the enamoured couple, she wondered if he would ever look at her the same way Fili looked at his wife. Perhaps one day… She would just have to work hard and try to become the best wife and queen she could be. But at that moment, she would have given much to be standing by Thorin’s side and hear his velvety voice as he spoke about the wonders of his homeland — her new home.

The sound of hurried footsteps made Mista look towards the entrance yet again. The person who was approaching them had dark hair, so very much like Thorin’s, and a similar profile, but she was not him . It was King Thorin’s sister.

Princess Dís moved gracefully towards Mista. Alone. A disappointed sigh escaped Mista’s lips but she tried to smile.

“Your Majesty,” Thorin’s sister bowed her head as the tradition demanded. “My brother sends his regards and apologies. He truly wanted to join you but two new caravans arrived in the morning and brought many more newcomers than we were prepared for. We are running out of available sleeping quarters and Thorin is currently trying to find a viable solution.”

“I see… Thank you for informing me, Your Highness,” Mista glanced at the waterfall and blinked away the moisture from her eyes. There was so much water in the air.

“Can I help? With the caravans, I mean,” she heard herself say, and then she added uncertainly. “If another pair of hands is needed.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Dís clasped her hands with joy. “There is plenty of work to be done, but would you not rather finish the tour of the Kingdom first?”

“It can wait, but I don’t think those people can. They have probably spent months on the road. Where do they hail from?”

“We have people from Khagal'abbad, your home mountains, and a smaller group from Malasul'abbad,” Dís replied.

“From the Misty Mountains? I was not aware that there were any Dwarven settlements left under those peaks,” Mista frowned. As far as she knew, those mountains had been crawling with Orcs since the fall of Khazad-dûm.

“There is a handful of them, scattered and secluded, mainly in the southern parts. It is not an easy life, from what I hear. Those settlements are mostly inhabited by the Longbeards of ‘Urdêk who chose to stay behind, together with Dwarves of other clans, and some outcasts as well.”

“And now some of them came here to find a new home,” Mista spoke her thoughts aloud. “Just like me. All the more reason to help them!”

“If Thorin could hear you now, he would be proud of you,” Dís offered her a warm smile.

Mista opened her mouth to speak when Prince Fili approached them.

“Uncle is not coming, is he?” he asked.

When his mother quickly relayed the news to him, he furrowed his brow.

“What a shame. I was hoping to spend some time with Uncle,” he addressed his mother. “There are matters I need to discuss with him before we leave tomorrow.”

“Are you returning to Khagal'abbad so soon?” Mista asked in surprise. When she arrived at the Lonely Mountain shortly before the wedding, she got to know Fili and Fridvi a little better and began to grow fond of the young couple.

“I am afraid so. We were to stay in ‘Urdêk for a month, as you know, but…” Fili’s voice trailed off as he glanced at his wife.

“We can leave in a few days; there is no rush,” Fridvi protested.

“There is, my dearest,” speaking softly, Fili took her wife’s hands in his. “We are going to bring you safely back home.”

“I am not made of glass,” Fridvi rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “There is still plenty of time.”

“You found yourself an impatient husband, my love,” Fili placed her hands over his heart and gently covered her hand with his, the features of her face softening.

Mista found herself staring at the waterfall yet again.

“I am certain that Thorin will find time for you today, Fili. After dinner, perhaps,” she heard Dís’ voice.

Fili nodded, his brow furrowed, “Very well. I just wish he had more time. Who knows when I’m going to see him again?”

“His Majesty… Thorin… He would have been here if he could. I know he wished to spend this time with you — with all of us here,” Mista said, hoping that the King would forgive her this white lie. “But he has to put his duties first. Have you heard this saying, Prince Fili? A righteous king puts his Kingdom above all else. ”

“That’s Dagur Sture, is it not? Uncle Thorin used to read his work to me and Kili years ago.” Mista recognized a hint of melancholy — or maybe nostalgia — in his words. Then he added, “This is one of the hardest lessons for a king.”

“You will make a wonderful ruler of Gabilgathol one day,” Fridvi said and pecked him on his cheek. Fili’s face brightened instantly and he whispered something to his wife that caused her to smile yet again.

When Mista stole a glance at Dís, their eyes met, and the Princess made an almost imperceptible nod towards her.

Master Lofar clasped his hands behind his back and addressed the group, “Shall we move on to see the oldest part of the main aqueduct?”

“You will have to forgive me and Her Highness, Master Lofar, but we need to leave due to an urgent matter,” Dís informed him, placing her hand on Mista’s forearm, signalling her to wait. They said their farewells, and Fili and Fridvi followed their guide.

“They are such a charming couple,” Mista said, casting one last glance at the young Dwarves as they walked away. “You must be very proud of Fili, Your Highness.”

“I most certainly am. May I have a request, Your Majesty?” the King’s sister asked.

“By all means.”

“‘Dís’ will do nicely. All those titles give me a headache. Do you know that we barely ever used them in Thorinuldûm? That decorum is needed here obviously,” she made a vague gesture with her hand at the stone walls around them, “but are they that necessary in private?”

“I believe not,” Mista agreed, hoping her next words would not be interpreted as overly bold. “I would very much like it if you called me ‘Mista’.”

“That would be a pleasure!” Dís beamed, giving her forearm a gentle squeeze. “We are family now, after all.”

“Indeed,” Mista nodded timidly, feeling some kind of indefinable warmth inside.

The Princess’ lip curled up, a half-smile Mista had already seen once or twice on her lord husband’s face.

“I must share my greatest secret with you,” Dís whispered into her ear as an elderly Dwarf passed them in the corridor. “I have always wanted to have a sister!”

“Truly?” Mista stared at her. “But you have such a great brother!”

“All the more reason to wish for a sister,” Dís chuckled. “When it comes to newest fashions and gowns, Thorin is completely useless!”

“Well, in that case, you have me now,” Mista smiled, a wave of surprise and relief washing over her when Dís suddenly embraced her.

“I hope for us to know each other better, Mista,” Dís admitted as they walked ahead with their arms looped together. “You are such an insightful person — I admire the way you reminded my son of what is important. He has his heart in the right place and I love him dearly, but he sometimes forgets we cannot have all that we want.”

Mista swallowed.

“I simply did not want him to feel bad. He seemed quite agitated today,” she explained, looking away.

“He has just learned that Fridvi is expecting,” Dís whispered as they took yet another turn towards the royal wing, with more Dwarves giving them customary bows as they passed them by.

“Is she?” Mista’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is splendid news!”

Many couples had to wait long years for Mahal to bless their union and she could imagine what joy Fili and Fridvi must be feeling. A babe to cherish and nurture. A child born of love. She took a deep breath to get rid of the sinking feeling in her chest.

“I could not be more happy, but with Fili’s constant pampering, I wonder how long it will take Fridvi to snap,” Dís chuckled. “His father was exactly the same. Most of the expectant fathers are. Something tells me that Thorin will not be very different once we hear the blessed news.”

Mista felt warmth crawling up her cheeks.

“I… I hope so…“ she said quietly, her throat constricted.

“All of the ‘Urdêk is hoping with you,” Dís squeezed her forearm again. “Come, there is nothing to be shy about. Imagine how adorable your and Thorin’s children will be!”

Mista found herself at a loss for words. How was she to tell the King’s sister that for the children to come the husband would have to be interested in the bride first? It was not his fault that her own looks were far from alluring.

“I know how it feels in the beginning,” Dís continued. “I barely knew my husband when I married him. Sometimes, those things need a bit of time.”

“How did you—,” Mista searched for the right words, “What did you do to break the ice?”

“Please do not laugh when I tell you: we talked. Our union had to work if we wanted for our people to remain in the Blue Mountains. We were not the best matched couple, but we tried to spend as much time together as we could to get to know each other better. Dinners, official events and trips… and so much more,” Mista clearly heard a hint of sadness in her sister-in-law’s voice.

“May I ask… did you find happiness together?”

“We did. And not only because we made two wonderful sons together,” Dís winked at her, and Mista blinked in surprise. Did the King’s sister truly hint at such an intimate matter? Perhaps it was like her mother said, the Longbeards were indeed much more frivolous than the Broadbeams.

“After meeting Fili, I cannot disagree with your words! I just wish both of your sons were present at the wedding ceremony,” one glance at Dís’ face made Mista scold herself inwardly. She completely forgot that Lord Balin — Balin — suggested that Kili was not the best conversation topic under the Mountain at that time.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to…” she began.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Dís shook her head adamantly. “This was my wish as well. We can only hope that he returns home one day. Oh, and here we are!”

They stopped before a pair of massive oak doors. Without delay, Dís pushed it open, as if the leaves were made out of parchment. The chamber behind them was large and filled with multiple tables, chairs, desks, scroll stands, and similar pieces of furniture, most of them covered with heaps of documents, maps, and various objects Mista did not recognize at first. The whole place looked more like a battlefield than a council chamber. Several scribes sat by their desks, hastily filling pages of parchment with countless lines of text. A handful of other Dwarves — Engineers? Stone Masters? Advisors? — moved nimbly between the desks, some of them seemingly searching for something, others gathered around the largest table in the room, their eyes set on a large piece of vellum that covered most of its surface. At the top of the table stood a tall Dwarf in a partially unbuttoned black and gold doublet that accentuated his broad shoulders, his hair falling in soft waves down his shoulders, one of his large hands resting heavily over the schematics on the table.

The King Under the Mountain.

Her husband.

Mista allowed herself a little sigh. Was it possible that he had become even more alluring since the last time she saw him?

“No, that sector is closed off for good,” he spoke in a low voice, a deep frown on his handsome face. “Cursed dragon! Any other ideas? We cannot have them living in the corridors like cave rats!”

“Reinforcements have arrived!” Dís exclaimed as they stepped over the threshold.

Most of the Dwarves present made hasty bows and returned to their work.

“Ah, Dís,” Thorin hummed, his eyes set on the map before him. “My Lady Mista. What brings you here?”

Mista mustered all of her courage and said, “We came to help.”

He nodded absentmindedly and gave out another hum.

“What about that part?” The King pointed at another place on the map.

“Weakened structural integrity, Your Majesty,” a Dwarf beside him shook his head. “But with enough resources and manpower, it could be made habitable within a half year.”

“Too long.”

Dís stepped towards the table, pulling Mista behind her.

“Thorin, Mista and I are going to help. Are the newcomers still in the Entrance Hall?”

With visible difficulty, her brother tore his eyes off the table.

“I believe so,” he said. “Dróri?”

“Aye, Your Majesty, all of them,” a chestnut-haired Dwarf on his right said.

“Who is taking care of them at the moment?” Dís asked him.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I do not know.”

“Thorin?”

“Óri and the other healers are with them,” he gave her a curt reply.

Mista took a deep breath.

“Have… Have they been fed?” she asked.

Thorin’s brow flew up as his eyes rested on her face. She clasped her hands nervously.

“Dróri?” Her lord husband addressed his advisor but his gaze did not leave her face.

“I don’t believe so, Your Highness,” Dróri replied.

“We have sent to Dale for any food they can spare,” the King spoke.

“Good,” Mista nodded almost imperceptibly, schooling her lips in a small smile. It was not reciprocated, making her lower her gaze.

“Mista and I are going to see to their comfort,” Dís declared.

“Yes. We will,” Mista tilted her head upwards, her gaze resting on her lord husband’s unreadable face with difficulty. “Could we… It is almost evening. We may need to prepare temporary sleeping solutions.”

“Do whatever feels necessary, My Lady,” the King offered. “Dís, you know what to do. Dróri, you will go with Her Majesty and assist her in any way you can.”

“At your service, Your Majesty,” Dróri offered her a deep bow.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Mista made an effort not to grin at her lord husband. She could not believe that she had been entrusted with a task — a task she would be more than happy to fulfil.

He gave her another slight nod.

“Will I see you for dinner in our rooms?” she added hopefully.

Thorin looked around the chamber.

“I am not certain. We still have much to do here.” He glanced at the table.

“A late supper, perhaps?” Dís chimed in, her eyes meeting his.

“Perhaps,” he agreed after an almost imperceptible pause.

“Very well, I will make all the necessary arrangements, My Lord,” Mista added quickly before they left the chamber.

***

After sending Dróri to check the inventory of the textile stores — the newcomers were in need of new blankets and bedding, among other things — Mista and Dís turned their steps towards the Entrance Hall.

“Be patient with him,” the King’s sister said.

“Pardon me?” Mista stopped in her tracks.

“My brother. He is not the easiest Dwarf to be around. He—” Dís sighed. “He has been through a lot. But I promise you that he warms up to people once he knows them better.”

“I remember how very kind he was to me in Tumunzahar,” Mista could not stop herself from smiling at her cherished memories. She understood that he had changed since that time; a brush with death like the one Katla told her about would leave scars even on the greatest of warriors. As Dís suggested, she needed to be patient.

“I wish we had more time before the wedding to reacquaint ourselves with each other,” she added.

“I wish it had been possible,” the King’s sister admitted. “If only time was not of the essence. There are less than four years until Thorin's 200th birthday.”

“I am not sure I understand.” Mista corrected her spectacles on her nose. “What happens on His Majesty’s 200th birthday?”

“Our law says that if he does not produce an heir to the throne by then, the kingdom falls into the hands of his cousin, Dain Ironfoot. If this were to happen, we might have a rebellion on our hands. There is bad blood between our families.”

“Oh. I did not know that,” the cogwheels in Mista’s brain began to turn rapidly. She knew her family well. If Thorin II Oakenshield lost his crown and there was a possibility of an armed conflict, they would immediately withdraw their support, terminate their trade agreements, annul their marriage, and take Mista back to Tumunzahar. Away from him .

“I suspected as much. Everyone knows that Dwarf-women should not trouble their pretty heads with laws and other serious matters, isn’t that right? ”

Mista laughed in response, “You hit the nail on the head. They did not give me a chance to read the whole marriage contract, and I have been taking care of some of my family’s business matters and agreements for years now.”

“That's preposterous! We need to remedy this! Tomorrow, we are going to the Hall of Records so you can read it in peace. Being the Queen has its perks,” Dís gives her a conspiratorial wink.

“I would love to! I only know that,” she paused, “that providing His Majesty with an heir is one of my main duties, but I was not aware that it had to happen so quickly. Four years! My parents had my oldest brother after eleven years of marriage!”

“And Thorin was born around twenty years after our parents wed.”

“I will— I will try to do my best,” Mista offered without thinking, thoughts swirling chaotically in her head.

Dís took her hand in hers.

“Give yourself and Thorin some time, Mista,” she spoke softly. “As a mother, I can say that a child comes when the time is right. Some things cannot be hurried.”

“But it may not be enough time and besides, I know the people are expecting it,” Mista tugged at one of her braids nervously.

“A child would indeed be a welcome symbol of fortunate beginnings and rebirth of our kingdom,” Dís patted her hand. “But remember that this matter is in Mahal’s hands, not yours. Don’t burden yourself with it now, Mista. There is still time. In the meantime, rest well, and eat well, so your body is prepared.”

Finding no words, Mista simply nodded, covering Dis' hand with hers. She understood that the King’s sister meant well, but she recalled a popular saying among the Broadbeams: Mahal helps those who help themselves .

“We have one thing we need to hurry with, though," Dís gestured towards a nearby corridor. “Let us go to the kitchens and see if we can find some food for our new people.”

A Queen is the Mother of her people , a quote from Dagur Sture’s treaty surfaced in Mista’s mind.

“Lead the way, Dís,” she simply said. At least this was something she was able to do.

***

When Mista returned to her rooms around midnight, she was exhausted. There were many Mothers, children, and elderly Dwarves among the newcomers who required her attention, and despite the scarce resources, she and Dís did their best to see to their comfort. They were not alone — some of the other inhabitants helped as much as they could as well. A group of local weavers offered wool blankets, a textile merchant opened his stores to those in need, some of the younglings went outside of the Mountain to gather late grass and moss for fresh bedticks, others shared their spare food with the newcomers, Dale promised to send more food on the next day, and when Mista finished her work, she felt like the situation was under control at least for a few days.

As she entered the royal couple’s private parlour, she noticed a table filled with food and recalled that she was to meet her lord husband for supper. There were no sounds coming from his rooms. A pang of shame filled her. He had probably been waiting for her and when she did not come, he must have gone to sleep, angry, no doubt. She disappointed him yet again.

“Has His Majesty returned yet?” she asked Katla.

The maid shook her head, “I have not seen His Majesty since the morning. Ranul says that His Majesty sent for his old clothes and went with the Stone Masters to the Amphitheater some hours ago.”

“The Amphitheater?”

“Yes, m’lady. From what I understand, they were to clear out the rubble so that the newcomers can stay there for a while.”

“It will be better than the Entrance Hall,” Mista nodded, and then a thought appeared in her tired mind. “Here, Katla, give this food to Ranul so he can take it to His Majesty. He must be starving as much as I am now.”

As soon as Katla left, Mista quickly ate a bit of bread and cheese and sat by the fireplace, promising herself to wait until her lord husband returned.

She did not know when sleep took over her weary mind. She did not wake when Thorin returned to his bedchamber in the early hours of the morning. He did not notice her small figure huddled in the armchair by the dying fire.

No dreams came to Mista that night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[mikathemonster]

could you do fili with praise for kinktober please💞💞

kinktober, episode 1 <3

author's note: the way I am so numb and horny after writing this means I desperately need to go touch some grass. anyways, I'm so excited to start off kinktober with a cute Fíli drabble <3 feel free to request more if this one really got y'all going :) enjoy!

Pairing: Fíli / Gender-neutral Reader

Word Count: 850

summary: porn without any plot in sight <3

content warnings: nsfw, cowgirl/riding, needy/whiny men, need I say more?

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“You’re taking me so well,” he cooed as you slowly eased yourself along his length. The pleasure was more than enough to send you reeling as you grinded down on top of his lap.

“I always do,” you hummed, setting a slow pace as you savored the feeling of him filling you up. “Don’t I, Fíli?”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes as he watched you take all of him, smiling when you wrapped one of your hands in his hair to anchor yourself. “Fuck, ghivashel…”

His eyes rolled back for a moment from the feeling of your cunt sucking him in, a mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum already making a mess where you two were connected. 

With a playful smirk, you positioned his head to face you dead on. “Come on, now. Don’t grow quiet now, love. Tell me how good I’m making you feel, hm?”

He pulled you close, chuckling as he planted kisses along your neck. “You always look so gorgeous when you’re like this.” His hands found purchase on your sides, massaging circles along your hips as he watched you take him so deliciously. 

Your pace quickened at the praise, deciding to reward him for his good behavior. “And?”

His breathing was becoming slightly uneven now and it was taking all of his willpower to not turn the tides and pound you into the mattress. Gods, the things you did to him were enough to drive him crazy. 

“A-and,” he paused, a moan ripping out of him as you slammed your hips against his. “That’s it, right there. Please, don’t stop now. You’re perfect.”

His kisses were becoming more sloppy against your skin as he teased one of your nipples with his tongue, eliciting a moan out of you as you leaned into his touch. You tightened your grip on his hair and smiled at the way he melted into the palm of your hand. Just the sight of him desperately trying to keep it together was enough to make you even wetter as you continued bouncing on his cock. 

“Ahh, please,” he whined, bucking his hips up into you, reaching deeper inside you as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, your moans and heavy breathing only warming his ears. “Y/N, it’s like you were made for me, for this… Nobody else can fuck me the way you do.”

A sharp cry came from you as a padded thumb found your clit, rubbing gently in tandem with his thrusts and your grinding. “Fuck, Fíli, you’re doing so good. Keep talking, please.” 

Between his whining voice and the sheer pleasure of you riding him, you could tell you were getting close. 

And between your dominating attitude and the way your pussy was drowning his cock, he was also very close to the brink. 

But that dominating attitude was quickly whittling away with every thrust of your lover as he bullied his cock deeper inside you, going faster and harder as he sent you bouncing on his cock. Your hands moved to steady themselves on his shoulders, digging your nails and leaving red marks on his war-scarred skin just to anchor yourself as best as possible.

“You’re driving me wild, Y/N–” He was barely keeping himself coherent now as his thrusts sent you bouncing on his cock with such intensity that you were starting to go dumb. “Fuck, I’m getting close now.”

“Fíli, don’t stop,” you pleaded, biting into his shoulder now to keep yourself from melting into his violent pacing. “Come on now, we can hang in there a little longer, hm?”

He let out a guttural moan at your words, knowing it would be more fun if he complied. 

“Anything for you, ghivashel,” he whined in between thrusts, trying his best to hold out. “Gods, you’re so warm, so tight. You’re so fucking perfect. I could fuck you like this forever–”

More babbling spewed from your lover’s lips as he lost himself in the overwhelming pleasure of your pussy pulsing around his length as you came. 

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his name was all you could scream, his thrusts slowing down enough for you to ride your high before quickly speeding back up so he could chase his own. Tears brewed in your eyes as the overstimulation was starting to hit you, feeling so sensitive that pain and pleasure seemed one and the same now. You bit his shoulder harder this time, knowing it would certainly leave a mark in the morning, and the next few thrusts led to him painting your walls white. 

A mixture of him and you was beginning to leak out from where you were connected as the two of you could only swallow each other’s moans in the sloppiest kiss imaginable. His hands rubbing soothing circles into your back now as your own moved to massage his now tender shoulders.

“Shall we keep going?” You grinned, feeling him begin to grow hard again as you moved yourself against him.

“Give me just a moment to recover,” he breathed. “But absolutely.”

[morningnoodles]

things bagginshield fic writers put in their fics that never fail to have me giggling, kicking my feet in absolute giddy and delight:

"confusticate" and "confound"

Dwarves. (in bilbo's POV)

bed snuggles (especially them tangling their legs together - i am a simple woman)

balin being the president of the bagginshield club

food being an integral part of either the story or their relationship or both

consort!bilbo

BAMF!bilbo

horny!thorin

them being ridiculous

gandalf in a corner with a pipe doing absolutely nothing but reacting to them being ridiculous

either of them logicking their way out of admitting they're in love. or jealous.

"speak plainly"

[gloomwitchwrites]

Can I request for the 1k event this : talking bath (naughty) with Thorin after a stressfull day

Hehe. You’re making my imagination run wild. I tried to lean toward the gender-neutral side on this one. And, because of the spiciness of the prompt, MDNI.

King Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

ao3 // taglist // 1k event masterlist // main masterlist

Thorin loves a hot bath after a stressful day. Even without a partner, Thorin can enjoy himself. The hot water is a balm, soothing his muscles and erasing his worry. It’s truly the only time he has alone. His entire life is consumed with rebuilding Erebor and taking care of his people. This is his time to do something for himself.

Now, Thorin taking a hot bath after a stressful day with his partner? Even better. It’s the appetizer before the main meal. Thorin prefers taking his bath with you whenever he can. While he takes the majority of the burden in terms of royal duties, you take on a decent chunk yourself, and taking a hot bath together at the end of the day is the thing you both need to decompress.

It always starts innocent with Thorin reclining with your back pressed against his chest. Thorin likes this position because he can hold you and has easy access to your body. Not necessarily for naughty reasons but just because he needs the intimacy of closeness. His arms are always around you, and he likes being able to keep you close. You like it as well because you can just float in the water while Thorin’s natural strength and weight keep you grounded against his body.

You are not allowed to wash yourself. Thorin enjoys doing that himself. He loves lathering up the soap and rubbing every inch of your body down before he even thinks about working on himself. Sometimes he doesn’t allow you to wash him, but when he’s feeling particularly playful, he does. It’s not submission but more of an acceptance. Thorin knows that you like to do this for him, and if he’s feeling indulgent, he’ll allow it.

During the time that the two of you scrub each other down, things can easily grow more intimate. The touches lengthen, becoming caresses. It’s always innocent at first before fingers and hands linger in certain spots, stimulating until someone gets off. Nothing about it is particularly mind blowing. Again, this is the beginning for after the bath, because afterward there is plenty that happens. This is more for fun and relaxation.

It doesn’t always happen but when it does, Thorin makes sure that you have yours first. He is entirely thoughtful about it, but doesn’t cease until he’s certain you’ve had enough. Sometimes he won’t even take anything for himself until the two of you are out of the bath and in bed.

Thorin loves to have wine or ale during this time. He might hand feed you if the two of you are hungry.

Sometimes, when the two of you are out of the bath and dried off, Thorin can’t make it to the bed and has to have you right then and there.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos @hantheconqueror

[faeriichaii]

My Sweet Valentine ~ Kili x Human!Reader

A/N: So yesterday I asked who shall receive a lil love on this day and Kili won!! So here ya go it is literally just a tiny little short one shot but its smth :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 424 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: No :) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Amrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You spent your morning hours with the wonderful dwarf prince Kili

Soft fingers stroked your cheek gently, making you stir awake from your slumber. You see Kilis brown eyes fill with warmth, as you woke up beside him. After the two of you decided to court, you were basically inseparable. You even shared a bedroom with the prince, which of course he doesn’t mind.

“Good morning Amrâlimé. Did you sleep well?” A smile graced your lips, as his groggy morning voice filled your ears. “How could I ever sleep bad beside you my love?” Your arms snaked tighter around him. Head on his chest you listened to his heartbeat. Chuckling at your words, he gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Well if we consider yesterday-“ Your hand slapped at his chest playfully to stop him from finishing his sentence. Yesterday was another one of the infamous festivities that are celebrated in Erebor. And of course you attended them with Kili by your side. So one thing led to the other and now you were waking up beside him, completely bare.”You are such a tease.” You say while hiding the blush on your face by cuddling further into his chest.

One of his hands moved from your back to your head. His fingers nimbly brushed through your hair to get rid of knots while you hummed contently. You loved it when he played with your hair. And so did he. One of your favourite past time activities is braiding each other’s hair. Sometimes you sing during these times. And sometimes Kili plays a few soft notes on the flute while you add cute accessories into his braid.

You remember the first time you braided his hair. You were on your journey to win Erebor back when you found beautiful wildflowers which you thought would look stunning in Kilis hair. So you asked him if you could do so. Which resulted in him suddenly getting really quiet and blushing a bit while nodding. After you have finished his braid he asked you if you knew what it meant to braid a dwarfs hair. And so he explained the customs of courting to you. Which in return coloured your cheeks red. He even offered you a courting bead.

The sudden kiss on your lips takes you back to your reality. Smiling softly you let your hands brush over his stubble. “I love you Kili.” You gave him another soft peck. A sigh left his lips, as he pulled you closer. “Let me show you how much I love you Amrâlimé.”

[shiinata-library]

Imagine: First kiss with them

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's first kiss with you

[ 📚 Main Imagines Masterlist 📚 ]

Thorin

Thorin often thought about kissing you. A lot, in fact. Alright, too many times. Maybe because you’re often very close to him. Physically. Maybe because he likes how you are with him. Or maybe because he is in love with you. But he is a dwarf, a dwarf prince actually, so he shouldn’t do it on an impulse, without courting you first. It wouldn’t be proper, right? Yet, it would be easier, if you wouldn’t be so attractive. It’s your fault! Why do you smile like that every time you look at him ?

Everytime you’re alone with Thorin, in the evening next to the fire or in the morning when everyone packs their things while you’re already done (it’s fast when you have nothing), you wonder how you could be more than friend with him. Do dwarves have any rules about dating? One evening, you ask for advice from Fíli and Kíli. Worst decision ever. As soon as you see their smiles, you regret asking them. Between their “why?”, “which?”, or “tell us everything!”, you will never have your answer, and you don’t dare ask anyone else. Maybe Balin could help you, but he already has a lot to do. 

When things start to be serious with Goblin-town, orcs and Eagles, you decide to focus on the quest, trying to survive. Thorin notices something has changed when he talks to you, as if an invisible wall has been built. You’re not distant, but he doesn’t catch your eyes as often as usual, or you go to sleep as soon as you eat, no longer spending time chatting together. Things like this made his days better during this long, dangerous quest.

“Are you alright?” he has the courage to ask you a night as he closes the front door of Beorn’s house while you’re sitting on a bench. “Yes, I just need a little fresh air. It’s so peaceful here, so I try to enjoy it the most I can,” you say, barely looking at him as he sits next to you. “Dwarves can be loud outside, but it’s worse inside, right?” he says in his usual serious tone. “Yeah, wait! I didn’t mean…” you hurry to say, looking suddenly at him as you raise your both hands in panic. Despite his serious tone, his eyes are smiling like his nephew used to after a joke. Once you chuckle, Thorin gets back to his usual behaviour with you. Then, you both talk like you used to when you can’t fall asleep some night during the journey, before the goblins, orcs and eagles, before even Rivendell. A long time ago…

It’s quiet and dark as you open your eyes slowly, feeling a weird sensation of falling. Thorin is just above you, his face close enough for you to smell the pipe-weed and leather. You slowly blink. His tempting lips just a few centimetres from yours. It could only be a dream, right? 

Someone will tell you later that you fell asleep on Thorin’s shoulder and he carried you to your makeshift bed. He was about to put you in your bed when you opened your eyes. Thorin’s hands are still holding you, one on your back and the other on your hip. But you don’t know that. So you do as you used to in your dreams : with your hand on his cheek, you move your lips forward to kiss him, as slowly as a half-awake person could.

Thorin didn’t see it coming. Not at all. His hands drop you suddenly and you fall on your bed, forced to wake up now. The surprise quiets you as you understand it wasn’t a dream. What could you say? What could you do? Raising your head doesn’t help since you can’t read his eyes with the darkness of the room. Yet, his eyes don’t leave you, and he hasn’t left either.

“I-I’m sorry!” you eventually stammer. Oh it’s hard to speak! “I thought… I thought I was dreaming.” Remaining at the same place, Thorin clears his throat. “Of kissing me?” he says in the deepest voice you ever heard. “Well, hm, yes… But I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about Dwarves' customs about dating stuff. Please just forget it.” You stare at him, waiting nervously for his answers. He doesn’t move, but he eventually asks, “Was it better than your dreams?”

You don’t know how much time passed before you speak again, but it seems Thorin wasn’t joking, so you quietly answer him, “It was so much better…” The silence resumes again, yet you eventually notice his hand in your hair. Since when does he stroke your hair? It’s dark, but you see him smiling. Genuinely smiling. “I don’t know about Men’s culture either. Can I kiss you now?” he asks, hesitating. “Only if you want to…” you reply, hoping you have chosen the good words. 

“Mahal, if you know what I want to…” he sighs before leaning a little to feel your lips again. As he could have barely tasted them before, he takes his time now to devour them. ‘His time’ until Dwalin bursts in, telling Thorin about the latest mistake his nephews had just made.

Kíli

Who knew that escaping a goblins’ horde would be scarier than facing them? As soon as they got out of Gobelins’ town, Kíli was free but it missed something. Or someone. You. He looked for you but didn’t see you anywhere. Only you and Bibo were missing. His brother and the others tried to reassure him but it was no use since they didn’t find you. 

When you finally join them, totally breathless, Bilbo is finishing his speech. Kíli runs to you and hugs you as soon as he joins you. “I thought I’d lost you…” he sighs. “You won't get rid of me that easily,” you laugh. You always wanted to say that. In other circumstances, Kíli might have laughed, but not now. When he pulls back just enough to see you, you notice how scared he was. There's something different about his eyes. His hands on your arms tense but you stay quiet. The only thing you’re focused on is his lips approaching you slowly…

Too slowly! You both jump when Thorin is yelling for everyone to run away. Then, everything happens fast. Orcs, Bolg, wargs, eagles!

Are The Carrock safe? You really hope so because you’re so tired that you remain sitting on the ground, trying to tell your heart to calm down. Then, Thorin wakes up and hugs Bilbo under the eyes of everyone. You look at Erebor from where you are, enjoying the calm of the morning sunrise.

When you’re feeling better, you stand up, tapping your clothes to remove dust and twigs trapped inside. Erk you never have been so dirty! As you remove the last leaves in your hair, you’re thinking about joining the company until you hear someone approaching you. 

“Amrâlimê?” Kíli says, just in front of you, close enough to see the fatigue on his face despite his bright smile. First, you think you've heard wrong. Obviously. He continues to walk toward you, then he hugs you as if it was the last you see each other. You close your arms around him. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he murmurs, his head still hidden in your neck. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, but his smell comforts you. When he moves back a little, you notice how his hair is messy. You smile as you remove some leaves from it. Kíli looks at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen despite the layer of dust still covering your face. But you don’t see it. You stop when he puts his forehead on yours. “As I said, you won't get rid of me that easily,” you say, this time making him laugh. “I hope so, Amrâlimê,” he murmurs as he moves back just enough to see your eyes. You try to say his Khuzdul word, and his smile confirms he understands you. 

Then, the very next moment, his both hands slide over your cheeks to guide your face towards his. He waits a short time before kissing you, a long, tender kiss. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” he says before kissing you again. “I’m glad too,” you say before pulling him to a new deeper kiss, not noticing everyone is already leaving without you.

Fíli

Fíli and Kíli never left your side during the quest. They were always with you, protecting you or teasing you. From the Shire to… Rivendell.  

In Rivendell, you feel safe enough to explore outside or inside alone. Everything is unbelievable. There is so much to see that it's a pleasure to explore both day and night. After some days here, you usually take a short walk after dinner, then you sit at a table in Elrond’s library. Not that you don't like the company, but it’s nice to spend a quiet evening reading an interesting book with the light of a candle.

“So you like books…” you hear as Fíli sits down on the chair next to you. After blocking the page you were reading, you turn back to him. With your finger over your mouth, you shush him, pointing at the elves reading at other tables. Thanks to a quill and a bottle of ink already on the table, you write on a piece of paper, “Once I finish this book, I'll join you outside.” After showing him the paper, he takes the quill and writes back, “I wait here”. 

You frown first, but knowing he's one of the dwarves who can behave, you resume your lecture. Well, he usually behaves, but tonight, you don’t know why, he had decided otherwise. While you try to read the book, he does everything to distract you : making a hat with the paper, tickling you with the quill, blowing on your ear, … You resist until he touches your hair, making braiding a lock of your hair.

You’re sure everyone can hear your heart beating loudly. Wait, where’s everyone? Are they all left? Are you alone in this library with Fíli braiding your hair? When did it get so hot here? 

As you still don’t pay attention to him, Fíli leans toward you. You know he is smirking. You know he is enjoying it. “What can I do to make you stop reading?” he whispers in a chuckling tone. Teasing you is one of his favourite things during the journey. Especially when you’re alone. But here, now, you don’t know how to react. It’s not teasing, for you it’s flirting. And he never flirted like that.

You pretend you’re reading the book but all your senses are on Fíli. So, when he suddenly kisses your cheek, your body reacts alone, turning your head toward him. In no time, his lips are on yours. Even though you’re surprised at first, you’re totally melting then. The book falls off your hand and you feel Fíli laughing. Yet, since you grab his jacket and kiss him back, he deepens the kiss, leaving both of you breathless when he pulls back. “If I'd known…” he starts before you kiss him again, not letting him speak with his teasing tone.

Bilbo 

Danger was everywhere during your journey, but when you arrived at Beorn’s, you could finally relax. It has been a long time since you felt safe, so you truly enjoy it. 

An evening after dinner with everyone, you’re both sitting outside on the grass, in the allowed area that Beorn told you. Thanks to the usual sounds of the night, it’s quiet and relaxing. Bilbo had joined you with tea and Beorn’s cakes, and now you’re chatting. For once, you look at the sky without worrying of the weather…

“It couldn’t be better,” you say while a light breeze blows on your hair as you drink tea. “I don’t remember the last time we were in a safe place. Safe with tea and cake! And that diner! Perfect! What more could we ask? Wine maybe.” Bilbo laughs with you. You both talk until it’s totally dark except the light coming from the house’s windows. Bilbo and you are used to chatting in the evenings. Just with him or with some other dwarves. Silence eventually takes over when you run out of things to talk about. It’s a peaceful landscape on the horizon if you don’t think of the orcs in the east or the spiders in the west.

Lost in your mind, you grab another piece of Beorn’s cake. With all the honey on it, you can't help but lick your fingers. A sound coming from Bilbo makes you turn towards him instinctively. He stares at you, while you –not elegantly– struggle to chew the large piece of cake in your mouth. Trying to understand him, you analyse him, your eyes remaining maybe too long on his lips, but anyway! Why is he staring at you? Did you eat the last cakes? Oh, he wouldn't be happy… He breathes silently before asking you, “Can I kiss you?”.

He almost looks as surprised as you by his own courage. “Wh-what?” you could only say with your mouth full of cake. After swallowing everything quickly and with difficulty, you resume, “Kiss? Who? Me? Now? But I’m eating.” Bilbo is not moving a bit, waiting for your answer. Does he even breathe? Do you breathe? Then, he tries a smile, “Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

With your sleeves, you hurry to wipe your mouth, then you reply to him, “Yes! Absolutely yes!”. In no time, he slides his hands on your cheeks to pull you to his lips. He starts with a shy kiss. Progressively, Bilbo deepens it, making you fall backwards on the grass. He follows you, staying above, not stopping the kiss for a moment. 

While a hand keeps him from falling on you, his other grips your waist firmly. You didn’t know he could be so eager to kiss you. Maybe you should stop him… “Beorn’s cake tastes better on your tongue,” he pants just before resuming the kiss. Alright, who would stop him, right? Forgetting everything except him, you slide your arms around his head and continue to taste his delicious lips, until you hear something far away. An orc’s cry. An orc dying. Then, nothing, not even a night animal. You both stopped when you heard it. “We should go inside,” you whisper. “Yes, indeed…” Bilbo says, looking where the cry was coming from. “I’m sure we can make some tea,” you try as you put everything Bilbo brought on a plate. He stands up, takes the plate, and kisses you quickly. “You’re right. Let’s go inside,” he says, walking to the house with a cute, cocky smile.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Mine

Chapter 14

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and Thorin disagree over your recent choices, and it seems this argument can only be settled one way...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, Pin V sex, fingering

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience. I know this took a lot longer to post than I thought. The smuttier chapters always take me longer to write because I know those are the ones we all read the most😂 I promise it will be worth the wait and there will be plenty more to follow!♥

Word count: 3913

You shout his name in protest, kicking and struggling in his grasp. But his seething rage seems to have only made him stronger. He doesn’t even flinch when you beat your fists against the broad muscles of his back. And every effort you make to kick him in the face is easily dodged as he carries you up the stairs.

Bertram is following right behind him.

“Put my dancer down this instant!” he demands, struggling to keep up with Thorin’s angry strides.

“This is why I told you not to let him find out!” you shout from over his shoulder.

"You put her up to this?!” a yelp escapes you as Thorin whirls around at the top of the stairs, still dangling you over his shoulder. You can feel the growl reverberating against where your thighs are pinned to his chest.

“It was her idea,” you hear Bertram scoff. “Did you really think accommodating so many of you at once would come cheap? I was prepared to throw you out on your asses until she offered an encore performance to sweeten the deal.”

“Encore?!” Thorin’s grip tightens around your legs and you’re suddenly very grateful that you can’t see his face right now.

“An encore that has yet to be completed thanks to you. So either she goes back out there and puts on one heck of a performance or you and the rest of your companions will need to find accommodations elsewhere tonight.”

“From what I saw, she’s already given you more than enough of a ‘performance’ for one night. You and I can come to another arrangement in the morning but she will not be stepping foot on that stage again as long as I live.”

“That might not be as long as you think if you don’t put me down this instant, Thorin!”

He ignores your protests as he continues down the hallway, kicking open the door and depositing you back on your feet in the middle of the room.

You immediately rip his cloak off of you, balling it up and tossing it back at him. But it just falls to the floor in a pile as he turns his back to you. Opening your pack he starts to pull out various articles of clothing, tossing them over his shoulder to you.

“Get dressed,” he grunts. Shirts, pants, chemises, and skirts sail through the air but you merely bat them all away in defiance. It’s almost like he expected you to refuse when he looks over his shoulder at you. When he runs out of your clothes to toss at you, he simply starts to toss some of his own instead.

“Lack of clothing isn’t the problem here,” you remind him.

“Then what is?” he snaps, kicking discarded piles of clothing out of the way as he stalks closer to you. “Temporary insanity? Lack of attention?”

“Yes, Thorin,” you scoff, taking a step closer to him until the two of you are practically chest to chest. “I was so desperate for your attention that I decided to take my clothes off in front of a crowd of strangers.”

“You’d dance half naked for strangers but Mahal forbid people find out we have any kind of intimate relationship.”

“Are you still upset about that?!” you roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Thorin. It’s like Bertram said: he wanted to charge us far more gold than even Smaug has right now. We have a history, so I offered to do him a favor in exchange for lodging.”

“A history?” he scoffs.

“Yes, a history,” you snap. “I told you I used to be a tavern dancer to pay my way across middle earth. This tavern happened to be a frequent stop for me. Now quit deflecting!”

“I’m not the one deflecting, lass.”

“Then what do you call it when someone is pretending to be upset about information they already knew, in order to avoid talking about the real reason they’re angry?”

“What, pray tell, is the real reason I’m upset with you?”

You take a step closer to him, tipping your head back until the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I fixed things and it kills you. You can’t stand the fact that I was able to solve a problem for you. Mahal forbid the great Thorin Oakenshield show any signs of weakness, let alone allow a woman to solve a problem for him.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” he smirks and you let out an angry huff, crossing your arms over your scantily clad chest.

Thorin’s gaze dips down to where your breasts are pressed together above the shelf of your arms. He takes in the sight of your provocative attire for the first time in this new setting. Very little is left to the imagination in your current state. You have to resist the urge to shudder at the chill his gaze sends down your spine as he studies every inch of your exposed skin. His jaw clenches and you know he’s remembering just how many people were recently looking at the exact same ensemble.

He brings a hand to your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look directly at his scowling face. “No one gets to see you like this ever again, understood?” he growls and the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“Let me guess, except for you? That’s quite selfish of you Thorin.”

“I don’t care,” his grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer to him until your lips are just a breath away from each other. “You’re mine.” He devours you hungrily, pulling your bodies closer together. Your hands slide up his chest, clawing at the fabric separating the two of you.

“Mine,” he repeats with a low growl, abruptly releasing his grip on your face and taking a step back. Before you can protest, he is tossing you over his shoulder yet again. You let out a gasp as he tightens his grip around your bare thighs.

Trudging through the piles of discarded clothes on the floor, Thorin crosses the room to toss you down on the bed. You go to push yourself up onto your forearms but he is already climbing up your body to tower over you. Your lungs are heavy with the intoxicating scent of him as he pulls your mouth back to his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you, wanting his entire body weight to crash down on you until there isn’t any air left inside of you.

You shudder in delight when he breaks from your lips to kiss a path along your neck to nip at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he says again, rising above you to fully admire your form trapped beneath him.

“Mine to touch,” his hands brush along your collarbone, traveling farther down your chest to trace the swell of your breasts. He bunches up the strip of fabric covering your top, lifting it to expose you fully. You think he’s just going to untie it, but instead, he tears the thin strip of fabric in two.

“Mine to admire,” he continues, ignoring the way your jaw has dropped at the loss of your only performance attire. Thorin doesn’t seem like he’s planning on letting you go anywhere in an outfit of that kind ever again, so perhaps it was part of his plan all along.

You narrow your eyes up at him in defiance, but he only smirks down at you. Watching the anger leave your eyes the moment his warm hands cup your breasts. Your jaw drops open again, but this time to release a moan as he squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers.

“Mine to enjoy,” he declares keeping his eyes locked on yours as he lowers his face down to one of your breasts. Continuing to massage the other he gently sucks and bites at your now sensitive buds.

They’ve begun to darken and perk up ever since they were given his attention and he wastes no time worshiping the two mounds of flesh before him.

Wrapping your legs around his midsection you pull him closer to you, arching your back off the bed as you start to grind your core up against the hardness you feel trying to escape from his trousers.

Thorin gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh in his mouth and you groan at the sensation. Impatiently, you begin to tug at the edge of his shirt, desperate to have access to just as much of his skin as he does of yours.

Relenting to your unspoken wishes, he sits back upright above you slipping the material overhead. Your fingers connect with the warm skin exposed to you, tracing the muscles and ridges with your fingertips. You start to chart a path farther down his abdomen towards where you’re aching for him. You stop when your fingers brush against the rough material of the bandage you wrapped around his midsection. You were so caught up in your desire you completely forgot that he’s still seriously injured. Your hands go still, hesitantly hovering over the wound.

Maybe this isn’t the time. Despite how badly you want Thorin to fuck you into the mattress right now, you can’t risk doing any further damage. Especially with the rest of the journey still ahead of you. You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Thorin’s hooked a finger under your jaw until he’s tipping your head up to look at him. “I��m fine,” he assures you but you still scrunch your nose up in thought.

“We should wait until you’re feeling better, as your physician I-”

He lets out a laugh, bringing his face down closer to yours. “You’re not a physician, lass,”

“I didn’t say I was a physician, I said I was your physician. I tended to the wound, I think that makes me responsible for its-”

He cuts you off again, this time with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You’re a truly maddening woman,” he whispers into your mouth, “and I won’t feel better until I’ve sufficiently had my way with you.”

“I suppose that could be considered an alternative form of treatment,” you mumble, all concerns disappearing from your mind as he brings your mouth back to his.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way the warmth radiating off of his skin makes all the blood rush to your cheeks.

The rough pads of his fingertips trace delicate lines down your stomach, disappearing underneath the remaining piece of clothing covering your aching core. His fingers circle your clit with a touch so featherlight it elicits a needy whine from your lips.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely against his lips. You’ve both been denied this pleasure so many times today alone. If your poor dripping cunt doesn’t receive some attention soon, you fear you might melt into a puddle beneath him.

Your fingers give a firm yank to his locks again, and with a warning growl, he plunges two fingers deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your bare breasts against his chest as your mouth opens with a silent scream. Your eyes see nothing but stars and yet you can sense that self righteous smirk on Thorin’s face as he starts pumping his fingers inside you with a steady pace, stroking your inner walls in that one thrilling spot that makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

“I know you don’t like to listen, darling,” he whispers above you, “but here is one order I know you will follow,” blinking, your eyes start to focus again on Thorin’s face looking down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes are filled with a darkness that makes your core clench around his fingers as he quickens his pace, bringing his thumb to trace circles on your swollen bud.

“Come for me,” he commands. And you do, without a second thought. Yanking a hand free you clamp your palm over your mouth to cover the cry of pleasure that escapes you. He doesn’t let up on his ministrations, even when your other hand tightens at his scalp so fiercely it’s a miracle you haven’t yanked a fist full of hair out yet.

With a heavy sigh, your body finally goes limp beneath him.

Chuckling, Thorin gently removes his hand from your spent cunt, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips hungrily. Your jaw drops at the sight, never breaking eye contact as he cleans every drop of your juices from his skin.

It looks so appetizing when he does it, you can’t help but stick your tongue out, batting your eyelashes up at him in the hopes that he’ll share. With a knowing smile, he is slipping his soaked fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. His eyes go wide in excitement, not only from the seal your lips have created around his fingers but also because your own fingers have slipped into his trousers. You wrap them firmly around his hardened cock, stroking as much of it as you can reach.

With his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your hand you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“So needy,” he chides with a click of his tongue. “You want more already?” you nod enthusiastically from around his fingers.

He brings his lips to your temple with a gentle kiss. “How could I deny such a beautiful creature?” reluctantly pulling his soaked fingers from your mouth, he reaches for his ever tightening trousers to finally free his member for your use.

Bringing your fingers down to your soaked bottoms, you slip them down your legs as far as you can. Kicking his trousers free, Thorin pulls the soaked fabric the rest of the way down your ankles discarding them somewhere in the mess behind you.

“Spread your legs for me, lass,” he commands, towering over you as he strokes his throbbing member in his hand. Blinking in shock, you open your legs wide for him, less from the command more from the sight of the cock before you.

You were far from a virgin at this point in your life. You’d met many different people throughout your travels and as a result you’ve had multiple lovers over the years. But try as you might to rack your brain you can’t think of a single cock you’ve seen that’s nearly as magnificent as Thorin’s.

It’s long and girthy, just looking at the strong member makes your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Fuck me Thorin,” you look up at him pleading, suddenly desperate to have it inside you, “please.”

“Mahal,” Thorin scoffs, “I don’t recall ever hearing you ask for something so nicely.”

Bringing a hand to your exposed thigh he starts to brush the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, gathering all the wetness he can as he lets out a chuckle at the desperate whines escaping you in anticipation.

Finally lining himself up with your entrance, he brings his free hand to the mattress beside your face, caging you beneath him. He looks down at your face one final time, searching for any sign that you aren’t as desperate for this as he is.

“Fuck me,” you ask again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And don’t be gentle.” You whisper into his ear.

That’s all the encouragement he needs, with a grunt he slams into you so quickly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You nails scrape against his back as they scramble to find purchase while Thorin begins pounding his hips into you at a breakneck speed.

Honoring your request, he is not the least bit gentle with you. Your cries of pleasure are quickly drowned out by the sounds of slapping skin as he relentlessly thrusts into you so hard the bed begins to tremble beneath the two of you.

Let it break. You think to yourself. Nothing could pull either of you out of this cloud of lust that envelopes you. If it shatters beneath you, you’re certain Thorin will just continue pounding into you on top of the rubble.

“So tight,” he growls, “so warm. Feels just like heaven, I knew it would.”

You bite your bottom lip at the thought of Thorin fantasizing about this very moment. You can so clearly see him with his cock in his hand, imagining it was your cunt clenching around him just as it is now.

Untangling your arms from around his neck, Thorin reaches for your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head. “Don’t move them,” he commands with a sharp snap of his hips that makes you yelp.

Continuing a steady pace, he reaches for your legs behind him. Pressing one of your knees into your chest, he tosses the other over his shoulder. Gently kissing the exposed flesh of your calf he resumes his pace in this new position.

Throwing your head back you release a guttural moan, clenching your hands into fists above your head. With each thrust, Thorin hits deeper and deeper places inside yourself that seemed to have been previously left unexplored.

Every time the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix it makes you cry out louder in ecstasy. You’re itching to bring your hands back down to cover your mouth and suppress the noises the rest of the tavern will surely have heard by now.

“Keep them there,” Thorin reminds you, watching intently as you struggle to obey him. “I want them to hear.” He growls. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He removes your leg from his shoulder to press it down against your chest like the other, folding you in half and pinning you into the mattress by the backs of your thighs.

“Say it,” he commands, leaning over you as he somehow increases his speed even more.

You groan beneath him, you know exactly what he wants from you but you can barely string together a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.

“Say it,” he says again, bringing a hand to your jaw to force your eyes to look directly into his.

“I’m yours, Thorin” you whimper beneath him and he crashes his lips into yours.

“Louder, lass,” his pace becomes more frantic and you can tell that he’s getting close.

Looking directly into his dazzling blue eyes you cry out: “I’m all yours.”

In just the nick of time, he pulls out of you with a shaky moan, spilling his seed all over your stomach.

The room is filled with the sounds of you both panting breathlessly. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Your limbs feel so weak you can do nothing but lay on the bed in a post-orgasmic puddle, your eyelids starting to droop closed. You feel the mattress shift as Thorin rises from between your legs. You peel an eye open just in time to see him cross the room, still completely naked, to grab a wet rag.

He catches you watching him as he turns back to you, a gentle smile on his face as he returns to your side.

You can’t recall the last time you saw him look so… relaxed. His familiar scowl is nowhere to be seen as he gently wipes the cloth across your stomach and between your legs, a look of utter bliss on his face as he watches you watch him with a soft smile.

Once he’s wiped you clean he starts to rummage through the mess of clothing still littering the floor. You can spot dozens of your blouses and chemises from where you lay on the bed, but Thorin still grabs one of his own shirts from the pile.

“Sit up for me, a moment,” he asks gently. You push your aching limbs upright as best you can, Thorin’s hand hovering at your back to help you upright.

He slips his clean shirt over your head, helping to navigate your arms through the sleeves.

“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you lay back down.

Once you’re settled back into a horizontal position he grabs for another set of clothing. You watch silently as he pulls on his shirt and pants from earlier. He reaches for his boots next and your brow furrows.

Is he leaving? Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you and made a mess of the room. Is he just going to walk out that door and find another place to sleep for the night?

Thorin spots your look of confusion as he pulls his other boot on. “Don’t fret lass,” he assures you, “I’ll be right back.”

He gently slips out the door and you listen to the heavy sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall. Your eyelids are still heavy, and you’re fighting sleep that threatens to overtake you. Only a few minutes pass until you hear him returning.

Shifting in the bed you push yourself up onto your forearms with a yawn as he reenters the room. You can smell the stew before he even opens the door and it instantly makes your mouth water.

“You missed dinner,” he reminds you, passing the warm dish into your waiting hands. “I had a previous engagement,” you reply with a mouth full of broth.

“Don’t remind me,” he growls as he kicks his boots back off, locking the door behind him.

“I’d say it worked out pretty well for the both of us,” you shrug. Thorin doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room to you, pulling the blankets out from underneath your bottom to tuck you into the bed fully.

By the time he’s wrapped you up underneath the covers and climbed in beside you, you’ve already inhaled the entire bowl. He laughs as you set it down on the bedside table with a hiccup. You sink deeper into the covers beside him and he reaches his hand up to your face, wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth.

“Tomorrow we continue our journey,” he informs you and you nod in understanding. “In that case I certainly hope I’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

He laughs and pulls you into his chest. “I’d carry you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll carry you all the way home if I have to.”

You hum in contentment as you let yourself burrow deeper into his chest. Ignoring the stab of guilt in your chest when he says the word ‘home’.

It may have been your home in the past but it can’t be any longer. You wonder if you should tell him that you don’t plan to stay in Erebor long enough to call it home again. But then he begins to trace patterns with his fingertips over your lower back and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not tonight.

Because you’re realizing that there is nowhere else in Middle Earth you’d rather be right now, than wrapped up in Thorin’s warm embrace. And you don’t dare do anything to spoil this perfect moment.

Next

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