#thorin oakenshield/oc

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 1: I've Got You ~ Thorin Oakenshield/OC [2,818 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Erebor was beautiful. Gwen had thought so when they’d first entered – sneaking through the hidden door and doing their best not to wake the dragon slumbering within. Although she’d quickly forgotten all about it thereafter. Not because of the dragon, but because of how she was forced to watch as the Gold sickness claimed the dwarf she’d so reluctantly come to love over the months that had passed between her taking on this ‘job’ and now.

Now, though? Now that Smaug was defeated, the battle thereafter was won, all were alive, and Thorin was himself again? Now she was able to appreciate the splendour of Erebor once again. Save for the damn walkways.

“I don’t know how I feel about your sending everybody out from the Throne Room just for this,” she commented to Thorin where he stood somewhere behind her, the great walkway to the throne stretching before them.

“You said you wished for no witnesses as you overcame this.”

“Because I thought you’d find a quieter walkway to practise on.”

“I am King – and in a moon’s time, after your coronation, you will be Queen. We can order all from the mountain, if we so wish.”

“That’d make for a pretty depressing kingdom,” she said, doing what she could to keep her tone light as he led her to the main walkway that led up to her husband’s throne.

“Did you run out of stone to make railings? Is that it?”

“Dwarves are sure-footed.”

“And hard-headed.”

“I heard that.”

“I did not whisper,” she countered with a smirk that felt much too bold for the fear creeping up through her chest.

While that fear did not show on her face, however, it did in how her hand anxiously sought his where it was pressed over her hip, planting it there as if to make sure his grip remained firmly on her. Her shrewd husband recognised the gesture for what it was immediately.

“You’ve crossed higher paths than this before,” he pointed out. “On Durin’s Day.”

“That was different. I had a dragon snapping at my heels.”

“Well now you’ve your brute of a husband to offer you similar motivation.”

“Yes, well, it should warm you to hear that I much prefer you to dragons.”

Unless he was in a really foul mood.

“This is folly, Gwen.”

Thorin’s humour might have been lighter these days than it was during their quest, but an excess of patience in the face of what he viewed as foolishness was not one of his virtues. It showed now in the edge his voice gained. At least, it did until he moved from behind her back and saw just how pale her face had grown.

“I can’t help it,” she said quietly – too focused on the pit in her stomach to see how his features softened.

It was folly – he was right. If someone draw a chalk outline on a path the same width as this walkway, she could stick to it without so much as thinking about it, laughing all the while at the mere notion of being worried about somehow falling over the edge of that outline. But the mere presence of the unfathomable drop at either side of the walkway raised the stakes, and had her unable to think of anything but. It was instinct – self-preservation, the same sort of in-built thing that would have her thinking twice before she stuck her hand in a fire, or caused a problem with someone twice her size. She was unable to help it.

Nor would she be able to make a life here if she was unable to approach the throne at a speed greater than one foot per hour. The embarrassment only made this all the worse. Thorin had met her when she was a thief in Bree – hardly an occupation without its risks. Now she was paling over the prospect of placing one foot before the other. It hardly did anything to combat the beliefs of the Dwarves here who revelled in shaking their heads and grumbling over their King’s affection for a human. No doubt a Dwarrowdam would have covered the distance a hundred times or more in the span of time she’d stood here faltering like an idiot.

“Do you think I would bring you here if there was any risk of your falling?”

“I don’t think you’d love me if there was any risk of my falling, considering it would take an impressive level of idiocy to manage and you don’t suffer fools. Gladly or otherwise.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he teased. “You would make a very beautiful fool.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

He chuckled lowly.

“Whichever you choose, you’re distracted. See? We’ve already covered some distance. That is the key – do not think of it. Simply do it.”

Well, that was the sort of thinking that had gotten her here, wasn’t it? Not only to her shiny new station – regardless of how it had intimidated her, a woman of no birth who had once been a cutpurse far, far west of here – but throughout all of the hardships that had hounded their path to Erebor itself.

“All right,” she sniffed, straightening her shoulders and nodding decidedly. “All right.”

Thorin’s hand remained at her back, all the same…throughout the hundred strides up and down the walkway it took before she finally began breathing properly and trusting the fine stone beneath her feet not to suddenly crack and give way.

She did grow used to it – eventually. Over and over that day they’d strode up and down the walkway to the throne room until fear turned to unease, and unease turned to boredom. Gwen dreaded to think what the folk of Erebor thought they were up to in here that would cause their King to demand privacy for so long, but it did the trick, and she’d no longer spend this walk battling with the temptation to lower herself to the floor and crawl the distance towards the throne next time she had business here. Although that was a sight Thorin might enjoy, depending upon his mood.

Still, as she strode across the walkway not two moons later, shiny new sapphire-laden diadem upon her head, she had a surprise that she knew he’d enjoy a great deal more. And the drop on either side of the walkway was the furthest thing from her mind – a grin on her face, and a spring in her step.

The King was holding court, dealing with a visiting merchant who had seen fit to scam a number of the people, so no doubt he would be in need of a bit of levity once he was finished. She would wait on the sidelines, Gwen decided, until he was finished. Then she would tell him.

“I was not aware, your majesty, that steep prices were a crime.”

The merchant was kicking up a stink so loudly that he could be heard throughout the entirety of the hall.

“Perhaps not, but swindling the honest peoples of Erebor is,” there was a warning note in her husband’s voice. “Your trading permissions have been revoked, so unless you have some other manner of earning a living here, I suggest you leave and take your way of doing things elsewhere – and count yourself lucky that you have not found yourself in the dungeons.”

Was he so unimpressed because of the merchant’s misdeeds, she wondered, or because he was being forced to deal with something so beneath the notice of a monarch? She could hardly fault him for either one, although she suspected it was some combination of the two.

Folk cleared a path automatically to let her by as she neared the throne – something that was still taking some getting used to, even though it had been that way ever since Thorin declared his intentions to take her as his wife – but she seemed to escape the notice of one person. The merchant.

Either he thought the path had been cleared for him, or he simply did not care, whirling and beginning to storm his way down the walkway with a face like thunder – the fury in his eyes blinding him, no doubt. Or perhaps what he did next was an act of pure defiance in the wake of his dressing down. If it was, it was an incredibly stupid one.

When he barrelled into her, she thought little of it. Queening around didn’t come quite so naturally to her as to have her ordering beheadings because somebody shouldered their way past her; but it appeared the merchant himself wasn’t happy to let things lie there.

“Move!” he demanded, one hand planted flat in the centre of her chest so as to shove her backwards.

Which was when things very quickly went pear-shaped. Had she not gone on here stubbornly refusing to swap her sturdy and comfortable boots for the delicate slippers the ladies of the court here favoured, it would have been worse. Had she not had to wear a stupid number of skirts it disguise those boots, it would have been better.

For the grip of her soles stopped her from skidding back right over the edge of the walkway, but the skirts sent her tumbling to the ground, rolling to a halt not so much close to the edge, but at the very edge itself. Indeed, she feared to move at all, her body hanging over the endless drop right down to the bottom of her ribcage, face down. The silence that took over the throne room was unparalleled and stretched on and on…which was what allowed them to head her diadem clatter, and then smash, as it clattered down to the next level below.

Gwen let out a slow, shuddering breath. The angle did not allow for any purchase with which she might pull herself back, but before she could even think of how to best act, strong broad arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back and up. She did not need to look to know who they belonged to.

“I have you. I've got you,” Thorin said, pulling her back from the edge. “Are you well?”

She took a moment to actually consider the question, rather than nodding automatically in response. Thank the stars she’d fallen on her side, and then rolled from there – her right hip ached something fierce, but her abdomen had taken none of the impact.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m all right.”

One hand remained at her hip – her sore hip, though she hadn’t the heart to shrug it off when he appeared just as shaken as she was. Although that worry quickly turned to ire, a positively glacial gaze turning in the direction of the merchant. At first the poor sod looked half-tempted to turn and run, but the guards at his back quickly made their presence known, and he was stuck between them and the King Under the Mountain. An unenviable position for him. The paling of his face told Gwen that he quite agreed, and the hall remained perfectly silent – all gathered dying to hear how Thorin would deal with this.

“The dungeons,” he said flatly. “Until I deem that you’ve had enough time to recall proper courtly manners.”

Which would take months. If not years. Thorin was capable of many things, but swift forgiveness was not one of them.

“Your majesty, I did not mean to-”

“Or the blade. An attempt on my queen’s life is treason.”

The merchant looked to Gwen as though hoping for an intervention. He would not find one, her hand was itching to grasp the hilt of a blade that was now seldom at her hip. In the end, he seemed relieved when the guards stepped between him and Thorin so that they might clamp irons about his wrists.

“How long will you keep him in the cells?”

Gwen asked Thorin as she changed for bed that night. In the end, she’d decided to keep her announcement for tonight, any mood having been well and truly killed stone dead by the merchant and his idiocy.

“For however long that bruise takes to heal, tenfold,” Thorin replied grimly, his eyes fixed on the angry bruise already forming at her hipbone.

She sighed quietly, slipping into the nightgown and hiding the injury from his brooding eye.

“You could have died, Gwen,” he said sharply – misinterpreting her sigh.

“It’s not that,” she shook her head.

“I’ll craft your next diadem myself,” he said. “It will be good – to make something again, rather than sitting on my backside listening to inanities. If I’d crafted the first, it would have survived the fall.”

“It’s not that, either,” she laughed softly, slipping into bed beside him. “But thank you, husband.”

“Husband, now?” he echoed with a smirk. “You seek a favour from your king, then.”

“No,” she pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, and received one in turn at her brow for her troubles, a broad hand settling itself into the curve of her waist. “Well. Perhaps. I would ask that you don’t lose your temper when I tell you this.”

“My temper? Why?”

The lazy sort of tired humour left his face and he became all King Thorin again, eyes searching her face as if he’d find the answer to his question hidden in the gap between her eyebrows.

“The reason I came to see you today…the reason I was in the Throne Room at all…I was going to wait until you were finished holding court, and then I was going to tell you…”

“Tell me?” he pressed.

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she pressed her hand over the top of the one at her waist, and then she brought it around her abdomen until it was pressed flat over the yet-unrounded area just below her navel.

His eyes flickered down in question and then realisation hit him with the impact of an arrow, and he met her gaze with eyes wide in wonder.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Any who liked to dismiss Thorin as nothing but grim and dour could only do so if they’d never seen him smile – truly smile, and the way it lit up his entire face, no, the entire mountain. Gwen was powerless to do anything other than grin back, laughing softly as he used that famed Dwarvish strength to draw her up nearer to him as though she were as light as a feather.

He kissed her then – a kiss that they both smiled into – and pulled back swiftly thereafter, unable to contain his joy to an extent that a longer embrace would require.

“Why would I lose my temper over this, my love?” he chuckled. “This is…”

He trailed off as it clicked, and then he looked downright dangerous.

“I’ll have his head, Gwendolyn.”

“Thorin…”

Already, he tried to slip from the bed – but she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, dragging him bodily back to her. He allowed it, she’d have never managed it otherwise, but he didn’t make it easy for her.

“I shall try not to take it personally that you’re willing to have his life as revenge for our child, but not just for your boring old wife,” she teased, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of his jaw.

He made a noise caught somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and she knew she’d just saved the merchant from being murdered by Erebor’s half-naked king.

“I would have thrown him from the walkway myself, had I not known you wouldn’t wish it. This just makes me less inclined to heed that.”

“I had no idea I had such sway over your decisions,” she planted another kiss on his neck this time, then another on his shoulder. “Perhaps I might use it to tempt you back to bed.”

“You should see a healer – after that fall.”

“I did. I’m well,” her hands trailed across the muscular expanse of his chest, fingers threading through the hair there. “My hip took the impact.”

“That does not please me, either.”

“If you’re looked to be pleased, I can think of a thing or two better than bloodshed.”

“Oh?”

“Unless I’m mistaken,” she sighed. “After all, your husbandly duty is done. Perhaps you see no reason to-”

As she put on her best show of feeling forlorn and neglected (which still was hardly very convincing), she released her grip on him and made to untangle her arms from his body – only for  strong, rough hands to catch hers and keep her where she was.

“Your machinations have lost their subtlety over time, my queen,” he all but rumbled.

“You just know me too well now for them to work,” she laughed. “But I can hardly mourn that fact.”

“Mm. Nor can I,” he said softly – and then he did return to bed.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[chardysstuff]

The Hobbit/His Dark Material Crossover

I rewatched His Dark Materials and thought, why not do a little crossover ??

So here’s some of Thorin’s company + my oc with their daemons!

[tomcat-tapes]

Middle earth ponies; fellowship is magic

More doodles below💚

(The earth ponies are Thorin and Bilbo adjacent)

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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[rheasforum]

Unspoken Goodbyes (Kili x Y/N)

overview: Kíli’s infatuation with Tauriel jeopardizes his relationship with his partner. During the Battle of the Five Armies, he faces devastating regret as he realizes its too late where his heart truly belongs.

warning: angst?? third-party interference, death

A/N: inaccuracies

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The forest of Mirkwood loomed around Thorin’s company like a dark omen. You walked beside Kíli, his hand intertwined with yours, feeling the warmth of his presence. Yet, beneath the surface, an unsettling tension brewed. Kíli was captivated by the elves, and it gnawed at your heart like a slow poison.

When the elves appeared, it was as if the vibrant greens of the forest faded, overshadowed by their ethereal beauty. Legolas, tall and regal, commanded with respect, but it was Tauriel who held Kíli’s gaze. You had noticed Kíli's fascination the moment they met, his curiosity did not go noticed. But you hadn’t worried, not at first. After all, you had weathered worse than a fleeting glance, hadn’t you?

Trapped in the cells of the Elvenkings fortress, captured by the elves, you sat beside Fili, the damp stone cold beneath you, exchanging worried glances. The oppressive silence was broken by snippets of conversation from Kíli’s cell, and your breath caught as Tauriel’s melodic voice drifted through the air. You strained to listen as she spoke with Kíli about the rock his mother had given him, a token of comfort he always kept close.

“It reminds me of home,” Kíli said, his voice soft yet filled with an emotion you couldn’t place. “It’s like a piece of her is always with me.”

Your heart dropped at his words. The tenderness in his voice felt like a dagger piercing through your chest. It stung to realize that you had once been the one who brought him comfort, but now it was Tauriel who stood in that place, bright and captivating.

Jealousy and despair swirled within you as Kíli shared memories of his mother, reminiscing with the elf who had captured his attention. You forced yourself to look away, not wanting to hear any more. You had thought the bond you shared was special, that Kíli’s heart was yours, but in that moment, it felt like you were losing him to someone who seemed so much more enchanting.

Fili noticed your distress and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but it did little to ease the heaviness in your heart.

“He doesn’t see you slipping away,” he murmured, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. “He’s lost in the moment.”

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Kíli was drifting further away with each passing moment. And when Tauriel spoke again, it confirmed your worst fears—he was captivated by her, and you were merely an afterthought.

Day after day, you caught him looking at her. His laughter was lighter in her presence, his eyes sparking with a fascination you hadn’t seen since before this quest began. It was as though the darkness of the journey lifted when Tauriel was near, and the weight of it crushed you instead.

It wasn’t until Kíli had been injured during a skirmish with orcs, poisoned by an arrow, that everything unraveled. You stayed by his side, holding his hand, but his eyes always seemed to drift elsewhere, waiting for someone else. When Tauriel arrived, glowing with the ethereal light of her magic and saving him, your heart shattered. Kíli murmured something to her, his voice soft and raw as if he was confessing, and you knew, deep in your bones, that whatever had bound him to you was slipping away.

You distanced yourself after that. There were no fights, no declarations—just quiet withdrawal. You told yourself you were being silly, that Kíli was just grateful to Tauriel for saving his life. But it didn’t feel like gratitude; it felt like you were being replaced. When Kíli would ask what was wrong, you’d brush him off with a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you’d whisper, turning away before your voice could betray you. But Fili noticed, and so did the others.

One evening, as the company sat around a fire, Fili pulled Kíli aside. “You’re blind, brother. You’re so focused on someone who isn’t yours that you’ve forgotten the one who is.”

Kíli scoffed, defensive. “It’s not like that, Fili. Tauriel… she’s just… different.”

“And what about her?” Fili asked, nodding toward you as you sat alone, away from the others, staring into the flames. “Do you see how you’ve hurt her?”

Kíli’s heart tightened as he followed his brother’s gaze. You were different lately—quieter, more distant—but he hadn’t put the pieces together until now. Guilt gnawed at him, but before he could speak, a call to arms rang out.

The Battle of the Five Armies had begun.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The chaos of battle was overwhelming. Screams echoed across the battlefield, the clashing of metal, and the roars of orcs filled the air. Kíli fought alongside his kin, but a part of him searched for you, needing to talk to you, to apologize. He had been a fool, blinded by something fleeting and neglecting what was real: you.

But you were nowhere to be found. As time passed, his desperation mounted. His strikes grew wilder, fueled by frantic fear for your safety.

When the battle slowed, he found Fili standing over a body, his face ashen. Kíli’s heart dropped into his stomach as he rushed to his brother’s side.

“No…” Fili whispered, his voice shaking.

Kíli followed his brother’s gaze and saw you. Lying there, your once bright eyes now closed, your skin pale beneath the grime of battle. Blood stained your armor and the fallen snow, a fatal wound that had taken you when he hadn’t been there.

“No… no, no, no!” Kíli dropped to his knees beside you, trembling hands cradling your face. “You can’t be… you can’t…” His voice broke, shattered by grief too powerful to contain.

He had lost you. Not to an orc’s blade, not to the chaos of battle, but because he hadn’t been there when you needed him most. He had failed you long before your body had fallen on this battlefield.

Kíli let out a roar, more pain than rage, as his world collapsed around him. The battle, the quest—none of it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.

Fili knelt beside him, his own tears falling, but Kíli barely noticed. All he saw was you—your face, once full of life, now still. He pulled you into his arms, rocking back and forth, as if he could somehow bring you back by sheer force of will.

“I’m sorry my dove,” Kíli whispered, his voice breaking. “I should’ve… I should’ve been there. I should’ve never let you go.”

But it was too late. The words he should’ve said, the love he should’ve shown, would never reach you now. He had betrayed you long before Tauriel had entered their lives, and now you were gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As the battle’s final moments played out, Kíli fought with a desperation that had nothing to do with winning. He fought because he had nothing left to lose. Tauriel, who had rushed to help him again, found him amidst the carnage, but he barely acknowledged her presence.

She wasn’t who he wanted. She wasn’t who he needed. He realized, too late, that the only person he had ever truly loved was now beyond his reach.

Kíli fell on the battlefield, not from an enemy's blade but from the weight of his own heartbreak. As he closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was your face, the memory of you smiling at him before everything faded into darkness.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the end, it wasn’t an orc that took Kíli’s life. It was regret.

[aritheanna]

Kìli Durìn x fem!reader

Restless

Hii, this is my first one shot for Kìli Durìn so please keep that in mind and I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You tag along on the quest of the company with your uncle Bilbo and have trouble sleeping along the way. Kìli is there to comfort you.

Run. Run, run, run. Those words repeated in your head as the pattering of your footsteps and the cracking of sticks and branches could be heard throughout the forest. An Orc pack was quickly on your trail as you endured a dangerous quest along with 13 Dwarves, a Hobbit and a wizard. There was no time to look behind you, the anticipation and fear was killing you.

Looking to your right, you saw your uncle Bilbo just feet away from you. Bofur and Bifur weren’t far from him as your left consisted of Fíli and Kíli. The others trailed behind you as your long legs gave you a bit more of an advantage. Gandalf leading the group, urged everyone to keep running for there was another creature quickly on your trail.

All 16 of you quickly rushed to your destination safely, breathless and tired. There, sat a house filled with animals and a large table and plenty of room for everyone.

“Whose house is this Gandalf?” Bilbo asked as he looked around curiously.

“Beorns.” He replied, and uneasy tone filled his words as you looked over to your shoulder and pulled out your canteen. Thankfully you had found shelter, as the last drop fell into your mouth.

“Need more?” Looking up, you saw the young Dwarf Prince handing you his canteen. A small smirk was plastered on his face as he took a seat next to you. Kíli was different from the others, though he was young and didn’t have much self esteem, you thought he was the most charming dwarf you’ve ever met. You loved a man that could make you laugh, someone who still was passionate about his family, and loyal to those he only had just met. The laughter that oozed from him was contagious, no matter the situation, you could count on him to lighten the mood.

You admired the way he had kept his hair, a small part was pulled back into a beautiful clip. A few pieces had fallen out due to the roughness of the journey but it never seemed to be too messed up or look bad in any way. You adored the way his bangs sat gently on his face, you’ve never seen someone pull off such a hairstyle before. No matter the day or what he went through, it never looked dirty or oily, and how you wished you could be the one to braid his hair.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you used your peripheral vision, and looked down at the young dwarfs hands as they tapped repeatedly against his trousers. You knew since the moment you met him back at the Shire that Kíli was a restless and daring man, and that excited you. Only, he seemed more anxious than restless right now.

“What’s wrong Kíli?” You said tilting your head towards him, a smile creeping onto your lips for reassurance. The Prince turned to face you, he furrowed his eyebrows playfully and returned the smile.

“Nothing Miss (Y/N), just happy to be here.” He shrugged off the conversation, shaking his head slightly as a way to end it. But before you could say anything else, Fíli motioned his brother to help set up the bedrolls.

You clenched your jaw slightly and let out a soft sigh. The nights with the company had been rough for you, sleepless even. You feared for everyone, worried that some people won’t make it back alive. You had no other family, no where else to go, and the thought of anything happening to Bilbo brought you to tears. In fact, the thought of anything happening to any of your newly found friends made your stomach turn and your body shiver.

The tiredness was certainly there and you wished, hoped, just once you would be able to have a good nights rest. Especially tonight of all nights, being in a house with warmth and some privacy from the cursed world, this would be the best environment. Tonight you will sleep, no matter what it takes; you thought to yourself. Typically you would set your bedroll next to Bilbo except everyone else seemed to have the same idea; great.

Majority of The Company were already fast asleep, the loud snores filled the room but always seemed oddly comforting. Gandalf was smoking pipe weed in a corner, too zoned out to care for Fìli and Kìli who were goofing off near the fire place. Kìli’s brown wavy hair seemed to glisten from the light of the fire, turning into an amber like color as it highlighted certain strands. His eyes looked as though the light was being captured and held in them, the green in his eyes shined as beautiful as the shiniest green aventurine. If jewels were as bright and beautiful as his eyes I’d be obsessed with them too. Was all you could think of as you sat there fantasizing about the young Prince.

When you first met Kìli at the Shire you couldn’t help but be enchanted by his beauty; his charm and charisma. The way he was so adventurous and cheerful. Such a bright soul with so much love and wonder. But how foolish would it be to fall in love with a Prince trying to reclaim his home? There was no time for love, and even if there was, why would he love you? Half human and half hobbit. You didn’t have the height of a hobbit but you weren’t tall either. Your feet weren’t hobbit shaped, but you still were as stealthy as any other hobbit. There was nothing special about you, so why would he want you?

Kìli was to be king someday, there was no chance he would be allowed to be with anyone besides a dwarvin maiden. At least that’s what you told yourself. The mere thought of rejection from him made your heart hurt and became heavy, falling to the floor in sadness. Perhaps this will be another restless night after all.

Kìli turned his head in your direction, still engaging with his brother but paid no attention to the conversation. He was fixated on you as you adjusted your bedroll in the corner, far away from everyone else. At this point, he had completely drowned out any noise and wondered: why is it you were alone? Why did your expression look meek and sad? What could such a pretty girl, with big (y/c/e) be upset over?

“Kìli?” Fìli said, snapping his brother out of his trance. Kìli shot his head back to his brother with a surprised expression, as if he forgot he was in the company of him.

“Hm? Oh, yes! Um-“ Kìli stammered and cleared his throat as he tried to recall the last topic of discussion. Fìli smiled at his little brother and put his hand on Kìli’s shoulder, bringing him in slightly.

“Go.” Fìli whispered, tilting his head in your direction. “Go accompany her.” The words coming from his brothers mouth made Kìli start to sweat in his palms while he looked back and forth between you and him. Taking in a deep breath, Kìli sternly nodded and tensed up his chest. Thinking that if maybe he appeared more confident, he would actually become so.

As Kìli picked up his bedroll and slowly made his way over to you, he studied your body language. Your eyes blankly stared at the ceiling above as you clutched your blanket with both hands. You were lost in thought and hadn’t noticed the Prince making his way over to you.

“Mind if I join you?” Without letting you reply, Kìli had already set down his bedroll next to yours, leaving about a foot of distance between you two. You wondered why he chose to sit so far away but of course, you two were just friends. The thought of that made you roll your eyes as you looked away in annoyance, but seeing Kìli sit next to you with crossed legs and a big smile seemed to cure that annoyance.

“Don’t you want to get some rest?” You smirked, turning onto your side to face him while resting your head on your palm.

Kìli returned the same playful grin, “Don’t you?” He said with a charming laugh. How you loved that laugh of his, making your heart skip a beat and your stomach fill with butterflies each time. It was like a gift, so special and so unique, nothing else could beat his laughter.

“I’d love to, but-“ You paused, biting the inside of your cheek. Kìli furrowed his brows and tilted his head in confusion. “It’s nothing.” You said with a small fake laugh. You thought it would be best to not trouble him with your worries. You quickly looked away from him and went to lay on your back.

Kìli clenched his jaw with frustration, confused as to why you would not trust him. Why you could not open up to him. This entire trip Kìli had tried to get your attention, one way or another, whether it was to make you laugh or helping you fight your battles. Though to you it seemed like he didn’t think you could do it on your own. In reality, he did not want to see you get hurt.

“Confide in me,” Hovering over you as Kìli said that, he smiled so gently. His actions made your eyes widen and cheeks burn red. “Tell me what is on your mind.”

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour as you tried to stammer the words.

“I’ve just had a hard time trying to fall asleep.” You finally mustered the courage to speak, still locked into the young Princes eyes. “This whole trip.” You added. It wasn’t a lie by any means, you just thought it would be embarrassing to truly let him know that you were scared.

“Perhaps I could be of service, Miss Burglar.” His choice of words sent fire down your spine as you squeezed the blanket so tight you thought your hands would shatter.

“H-How so?” Your voice was quiet and shaky while Kìli’s smile never seemed to fade.

“May I?” Kìli’s voice was as sharp but tender and it wasn’t intimidating; instead you found yourself lost in it whenever he spoke. Losing yourself in each syllable, you were too shocked to noticed he had moved his bedroll completely next to yours so that not even a centimeter was between you two. “I know we have not known each other for long, but I cannot get you out of my head (Y/N). Forgive me if this is too much, but, I’m-“

“I loved you since the moment I saw you Kìli Durìn.” These words startled you, for you didn’t mean to have said it out loud. Quickly you covered your mouth, face still piping hot.

Kìli let out a soft chuckle as he looked away for a split moment. He could not believe that a woman of your beauty would love such an immature dwarf as himself. However he was so pleased that you did.

“May I hold you, (Y/N)?”

“Please.” You said, still in disbelief as to what was happening. Kìli smiled to himself as he slowly laid himself down, putting an arm around you securely. He used the arm that held you and pulled you in closely to him with minimal effort. Turning you onto your side as he did so. As the two of you adjusted yourselves, you couldn’t help but graze his forearm and biceps. Despite Kìli being so young, the muscles that he carried were astonishing. So strong and so gentle at the same time.

Kìli noticed your attraction and laughed, pulling you in so close it felt as you two would merge together. He buried his head into the nook of your neck, taking in a deep breath as he smelled your scent of fresh flowers and what appeared to be a hint of mint.

For once throughout the whole trip, you found yourself quickly drifting off without a single toss or turn. It was such a peaceful feeling and knowing the man you loved felt the same made everything seem ethereal. You hoped this night would never end and prayed that when you woke up he would still be right beside you.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the dwarf Prince leaned in, whispering slightly as he said, “Amrâlimê, you have my heart for eternity.”

With that the two of you fell asleep, smiles carved into your faces as though you were statues. The feeling of pure love and gratitude was the last thing you had felt while you held the Princes large and rough hands in yours.

The end!!! Hope you all enjoyed <3

[zoozvie]

Imagine: a Dragonborn in The Hobbit

With my poor memory of Tolkien lore, my love for D&D, and just fantasy in general, I've been thinking about a Dragonborn reader going on the adventure to the Lonely Mountain with the dwarven company + 1 Burglar, and sometimes a Wizard.

Please be chill about semantics, I'm so terribly sleep-deprived.

I like to imagine Reader as a Dragonborn can shift and phase through how much of a dragon they look like. Their more human form makes them look odd, something is still strange about them, but most don’t know they’re hiding something unless they are receptive to magical concealment.

Reader is picked up and tagged along with the company shortly before they reach the elven woods, so the dwarves are wary of them because of what has happened to their bloodline involving dragons. Thorin is the least trusting, accusing them and being nitpicky about how they are with the party.

Thranduil is also not pleased with a dragon walking among the dwarves when they get captured in the Mirkwood forest, because of his own history. He can see through their lie to conceal themselves very quickly.

The elves put them on the spot when Thorin and Thranduil are bickering and Thorin is also intrigued by the interrogation.

Their response is more so, “Would you look at yourselves, see how well you get along because you both hate dragons?”

When questioned if they will turn on the dwarves, and the elves then after, because of the temptation of gold in the lonely mountain they reassure that gold is not their fascination, and they have no interest in keeping it. 

Everyone gets into it about dragon hordes, and yes they’re dragon-like but not wholly a dragon, and yes they collect things but a massive hoard is too overkill they prefer something more personal. 

This forces them to show everyone a sachet hanging from their belt pouch containing smooth and bright-colored stones, sea shells, and things you’d find on the ground. The Dragonborn is very uncomfortable doing this and gets quiet and grumbly, eyes calculating where everyone is around their “hoard”.  (While traveling on this adventure, an acorn Bilbo gives them is added to the sachet, to remember him by)

This is only step one of proving to the others that Dragonborns are not entirely dragons, everyone makes their own choices and has their path in life so we should just not assume someone’s entire character based on their birth, right? Hopefully, the Dragonborn can get through to everyone so they'll at least calm down enough to lessen the tension. Or else this will indeed be a long, long journey.

(Bonus points if Reader sings the Misty Mountain song, as an offering to show that they’ll stand by the dwarves)

[novanillacake]

Dwarrowtober 1: "Mountain" (TW: Blood/nosebleed)

a.k.a. Amalda notices Thorin is built like one

[luna-writes-stuff]

Just rewatched the entirety of the Hobbit saga and then I realised; ‘I wrote a whole ass fanfic series containing every little detail in the dwarven story line that is captured within these 9 hours’, so yeah, I couldn’t help but make at least one new meme post.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, last year I finished my Kili X OC fanfic series! And it’s free to read right here on this hellsite! You can find it in the main masterlist on my pinned post <3

[helplessavacado]

(Originally posted on January 20, 2024) Me??? Making more content for my Middle-Earth sona??? Unheard of, totally not what l've been working on for the past couple months... Anywho, have her and some interactions with The Company of Thorin Oakenshield!!! Ya girl's been on a Hobbit kick lately and now y'all have to deal with the results.

I decided to have some fun designing Frerin, Dis, and Gloin's wife, because I had to make things more complicated Imao. Thrór, Thráin, and Dáin will be in the next post (whenever that may be), as well as some more Alda and Piper content because those gals are my favorites. Piper belongs to the wonderful @opossum-prime btw. Love ya bestie 💖💖💖

Also contained within the post is a commission by the lovely @mortuaryaffairs who's to thank for Alda's second outfit. Tysm dude, I really appreciate your help

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 16: Singing one another to sleep - Thorin Oakenshield/OC [1,006 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

“Thorin!”

Gwen jolted upright from a dead sleep, hands coming up to block a blade that was not there – wielded by a foe that no longer breathed. But it took her a moment to remember that, pain slicing through the long-healed scar that ran across the back of her forearm from wrist to elbow.

Reality registered, her limbs slackened, and she sighed shakily. Sweat drenched her, her nightdress sticking to her, and her heart and head warred for which could pound the hardest. She cursed quietly beneath her breath.

“The dragon?” Thorin’s voice sounded behind her, rough with sleep.

“Ravenshill,” she corrected hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

As she spoke, she tried to rub the phantom pain out of her scar.

“You survived,” he spoke quietly.

It was difficult to say whether he was reassuring her of that fact, or himself.

“…despite a bit of touch-and-go in the middle there,” she murmured, hand settling over the scar.

Were it not for the healing abilities of the Elves, she would have lost the arm. It spoke volumes that Thorin had even taken her to them so entirely without reluctance, in the aftermath. As it was, there was occasional loss of sensation here and there, and she’d never move it with the same deftness she’d been capable of before, but it was a small price to pay.

“That’s not what bothers me in the dreams,” she admitted. “In the dreams, I don’t get there in time.”

To distract herself from the discomfort of speaking the words aloud, she peeled off her nightgown, throwing it away from the bed where it landed with little more than a rustling flutter. It was only keeping her cold, the way it clung to her damply lending to her sense of unease. But since she wasn’t willing to lie down again just yet, she only ended up colder as the sweat cooled and dried on her skin.

Wrapping her arms about herself, she tried to steady her breathing – helped by the fact that Thorin sat up and shifted til he was at her back. Her husband was like a furnace, and with his chest at her back she could no longer pretend the tremors were purely to do with the cold.

“You are here,” he said softly into her ear. “As am I. It is over. Although you paid a hefty price to see things as they are now.”

“I’d do it again.”

He did not sound cheered by the prospect, humming lowly in the back of his throat. “I would not ask that of you.”

“Since when has that ever stopped me?”

The rueful sound he made in response had a note of fondness to it. Winding a strong arm about her waist, he pulled her back – the gesture a suggestion more than an insistence, and she knew that if she insisted on remaining upright, he would ease up immediately. Instead, though, she leaned into the embrace, allowing him to lead her to lie down, more atop him than the bed itself. But that helped. She could not convince herself that he was not here, nor that he was not breathing, when his heartbeat beneath her hand, and she could feel each inhale and exhale every time.

“I’m all sweaty,” she protested half-heartedly.

Thorin scoffed. She looked at him properly for the first time since waking then, finding concern clear and unhidden in his striking eyes and his hair mussed from sleep.

“Do you think I care at all about that? No, my thoughts are with how I might repay wife for saving my life,” he mused quietly – likely sensing that she needed the silence filled so that her thoughts would not run away with her.

“You married her, for one thing.”

“A poor reward indeed,” he teased, one corner of his lips upturning. “A punishment, some might argue. Depending on my mood.”

“Stay awake with me?” she asked quietly. “Just for a little while?”

His manner lost what little teasing there had been in it to begin with, his face softening as the hand not at her waist found her hair.

“All night, if need be,” he vowed.

“I’m sorry. If you’re tired-”

She wasn’t used to being this shivering, frightened thing – and beyond her disquiet felt ridiculous for how he was being forced to pander to it, husband or no. But he dispelled her fears with a tightened hold and a firm interruption.

“Do not apologise. Not for this. Never for this.”

“It’s been so long since the last one. I thought it was over.”

“That is the way with them,” he murmured ruefully. “The gaps betwixt them lengthen and lengthen until one day they will be no more. In the meantime, you’ll recover more quickly from them each time. They will…jar you less.”

He spoke from experience, and how could he not? Given all that he’d seen across his years? She knew that Dwarves’ lives spanned further than those of humans, but he’d seen enough for ten lifetimes, even with that difference in mind.

“Do you get them? From the battle, I mean?”

“You dream that you did not succeed,” he said softly. “I dream that you did, but did not live to see that success.”

“I did.”

“You did.”

They lapsed into silence, Gwen slowly managing to match her breathing with his. After the third time he tactfully pretended not to notice her glancing up at him to check if he was awake, he began singing in low, soothing tones to save her the bother. The song was in Khuzdul, she knew not the words (the argument over the fact that Erebor’s Queen should know it being a surprisingly uphill one thus far), but that helped somewhat – focusing on his impossibly deep voice rather than the words it was forming, and feeling the vibrations of it throughout his chest.

When she finally did fall asleep again, it was a dreamless one, and she suspected it came long before he allowed himself to drift off again, too.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

Best of Intentions - scene snippet. Character relationships and development -

*******

It wasn’t the first time Mistlynn cursed herself for her quick tongue and short temper. She had risen to his bait the night prior.

 The dreams were getting more vivid, more heated with each passing night much to her dismay. She was no longer merely distracted. She had been completely derailed in every sense of the word.

 By. Him.

 And his stupidly handsome face.

 And that insufferable smirk that he seemed to share only in her direction. Damn him.

 The butterflies that erupted in her stomach the moment he walked into that dining room had caught her off-guard, and when his beautiful, keen eyes landed on her, all her good sense had seemed to leave her as well.

 She had no desire to learn how to ride a horse. She was content with Luna. And if she couldn’t ride Luna she was plenty fit to walk. Dale wasn’t that far from the front gates of Erebor.

She was perfectly capable of walking that short distance, thank you very much.

 But she couldn’t let him win, could she? No. She could not abide by it. If she could ride a Dire wolf, of all the creatures on Aule’s green earth, she could ride a gods forsaken horse.

 She walked with her chin held high as they made their way to the stables. Thorin strode next to her, perfectly at ease in his riding leathers. Not an ounce of gold adorned him. It shouldn't drive her to distraction that he didn’t seem to care about dressing like a wealthy king. Not once trace of gold was on him, again. Just a few silver rings that matched the beads that held his braids in place.

Not once, since she had arrived in Erebor did she see him dress in the ostentatious finery she was told they would drip their bodies with from head to toe. That fact shouldn't bother her. But it did. And those infernal butterflies were present once again, making her wish she hadn’t grabbed a pastry from Rosalyn before this little venture. So many life choices she was regretting at this moment.

 “Now, remind me again of what your wager was?” Thorin’s voice startled her back from her inner musings.

 She masked her nervousness with a strategically placed glower. “That I can ride any horse of my choosing within an hour’s time.”

 The slight smirk that was lingering on his face as they walked grew at her peppery tone. He eyes twinkled brightly as he looked down at her, obviously enjoying their little exchange this early in the morning.

 “Ah yes. I am quite eager to see if you will bully the poor horse as you did my unfortunate soldiers.”

 “Unfortunate indeed. I am sure the horses sense of esteem will remain more intact than the pride of your dwarrows.” She chirped.

 The sound of his deep chuckle made those meddlesome butterflies scatter. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath in. 

 “Perhaps we will find you something more suitable to ride when you find your pride planted in the dirt.” His tone was playful as he leaned in a little closer, so that he was looking down at her over his shoulder.

 “Aye, and when the horse bests ye I am sure a way more suitable ride can be found, of that I am certain.” A rugged drawl came up from behind them.

Mistlynn was already flustered by Thorin’s teasing and knowing that the imposing Captain overheard their jests made her fight to conceal the blush blooming across her chest heat rapidly and flush up to her cheeks.

 She knew they could see it, and she loathed them for it. The infernal butterflies reveled in it.

 Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin’s teasing before giving his friend a pointed look. Mistlynn let out an indignant huff and continued to walk on, her back ramrod straight, chin held with a renewed determination.

 “Did I do something to you in another life? I was having a perfectly fine conversation before you butted your ugly mug in.” Thorin grumbled under his breath as they watched Mistlynn’s petite form storm off towards the horse paddocks.

 “You’ve done aplenty to me in this life. This is the first and only time I have had the pleasure of goading your One. I have waited so long.” Dwalin smirked mischievously.

 “In that case, maybe I should go visit that bonnie little dam whose bakery you started to frequent so much? I’ve had a real sweet tooth lately, as have you I’ve noticed.” Thorin grinned wickedly as he watched Dwalin’s left eye twitch subtly at the jab.

 “Do you not have anything else better to do with your time, like being a King and ruling your kingdom perchance?” They began to walk again, following after Mistlynn.

 “Of course I do, that’s why I have Nori as my spymaster. He comes in really handy. It’s almost like I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

 “Yer a menace.” Dwalin growled good naturedly. “Who put you in charge?”

 Thorin sighed as he watched Mistlynn look around in poorly concealed horror when she realized how many had gathered around the paddocks. It was apparent their exchange the night prior did not go unnoticed or unheard, and everyone was eager to see how the wager played out.

 “I ask myself that every day. Things were so much easier when I was just a blacksmith.”

 “Ye were never meant to be just a blacksmith. Ye were meant to be here, to save her, and rule your kingdom together.”

 “She doesn’t seem eager to do anything together, with me especially.” Thorin grumbled. “The only thing I seem to draw from her is irritation.”

 Dwalin laughed, “Do not fret, there is far more than that below all of that spitfire.”

 As they approached, Mistlynn whirled on them, her eyes flashing with anger. “You seriously invited everyone to watch? This was a wager between you and me!”

 “Maybe you shouldn't be making such a show at dinner time.” An excited Bofur called from his perch up on the fencing. “Especially after that little show you gave us yesterday.”

 “I have never been more entertained.” Fili grinned winningly at her as he winked.

 “Or wealthier.” Kili chimed in as he nodded towards where Ori was scribbling down everyone’s wagers. “It drew him forth from the depths and into the light of profitable gains.”

 “Are you not all wealthy already?” Mistlynn folded her arms across her chest as she gave each one a pointed look.

 “Oh, to be sure.” Nori chuckled. “But where is the fun in just sitting on it. Besides, I have some gold I have to win back.”

 Mistlynn blinked before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you do.”

 “Now now lass. Dont keep us in suspense.” Gloin chortled as Thorin and Dwalin walked up and joined everyone leaning against the fence. “Pick one.”

 Mistlynn sniffed, her nose twitching as she looked ahead of them and into the grazing horses. They didn’t seem threatening or wild. Whispers of excitement and knowing chuckles trickled on the wind around her as she studied each horse. She didn’t want anything too easy. They all seemed so docile and tame.

How could she garner their respect by riding a meek creature that lived for nothing but to graze and soak in the sunlight.

 A loud neigh carried over to her on the morning breeze, and a flash of white caught her eye from the paddock across from them. In that paddock, a lone horse of the purest white galloped and tossed its head in what seemed to be some sort of revelry. 

A smile teased her lips as she watched the magnificent creature. Her blood began to hum in excitement.

 Perfect.

 She snapped her fingers and pointed, confidence exuding from her at her choice. “That one.”

 The smile that had been on Thorin’s face disappeared as her choice registered. All conversation ceased as everyone looked over to the white horse. Stunned.

 “Of course she would pick that she devil.” Dwalin muttered aloud.

 “She’s perfect.” Mistlynn grinned from ear to ear.

 “Absolutely not.” Thorin growled. “Pick from this paddock.”

 “You mock me, my Lord.’ Mistlynn looked at him testily. “All these horses seem to be interested in anything else but riding.’

 “Oh, he isnt mocking.” Fili laughed nervously. “They are tame. That one…is a bit more fiesty.”

 Mistlynn watched as a grey mare meandered up to the water trough and drank deeply, without a care in the world.

 “That one will do nicely.” Thorin nodded towards the grey mare.

Mistlynn ground her teeth together. “That one looks near death.” She glowered.

 Dwalin scoffed as Thorin returned her glower with a challenging look. “You will be on deaths door if you ride that white beast.”

 “Then why own such an animal if you cannot ride it?” She challenged.

“The only one who hasn’t been thrown by her is Thorin.” Kili grimaced.

 “Perfect. If he can ride her, then so shall I.”

 Fili elbowed Kili while Thorin sent his nephew a silencing glare. “What? Im trying to discourage her not encourage her. Everyone knows Thorin is the better rider here.”

 “Not. Helping.’ Fili groaned as they all watched Mistlynn set her shoulders back in determination.

 “Lad, you have only courted an elf maiden and it shows.” Gloin shook his head. “She’s a dam for Mahal’s sake.”

 “SHE is standing right here, and SHE is going to go ride that horse. And you, my liege, are going to step aside and let me.” Mistlynn gave each wide eyed dwarrow a pointed look before she sidestepped Thorin and began to walk towards the other paddock.

 “You're going to break your bleeding neck, you obstinate creature.” Thorin growled as he stormed after her.

 “Watch me.” Mistlynn singsonged. The white mare had stopped running the length of her paddock and was now watching her from the middle. “She’s stunning.” She smiled as she looked at her through the space of the fencing.

 She moved to put her foot through the lower section of the fence, but a hand hit the railing by her head. “I forbid it. You will choose another horse.” The low rumble of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck rise as a smirk turned the corner of her mouth upwards.

 A soft, curious nicker made them both look into the paddock. The white mare had come closer, curiosity evident in her large brown eyes. Mistlynn’s smirk widened into an outright grin. “Oh, imagine that? She likes me.” She quickly ducked under the fence and stood slowly on the other side, so that she was looking at the creature head on.

 Thorin grit his teeth as he watched Mistlynn approach the mare, and slowly bring her hand to the horses head. She pet her softly, and the mare appeared to accept it.

 “If she is able to ride that mare, I will eat my own boot.” Dwalin grumbled as he approached with everyone else, all eyes transfixed on Mistlynn and the white mare.

 “I’ll take that bet.” Kili snickered.

 “This is not funny. This is serious.” Thorin growled, not once taking his eyes off of Mistlynn as she continued to pet the mare and speak to her softly.

 “She didn’t even let you do that when you first approached her.” Fili pointed out.

 Bofur chuckled softly. “Are you talking about the mare or our warrior princess lad?”

 “Quiet all of you.” Thorin hissed. “Just because she is letting her pet her doesn’t mean anything.”

 “If she is able to ride that bloody horse I will never let you live it down.” Dwalin began to snicker as he watched Mistlynn grab ahold of the reins.

 “Oi Mist! Are you sure of which end your supposed to get on?” Kili waggled his eyebrows as he grinned.

Mistlynn flipped him a rude gesture as she gave him a sarcastic smirk. Raucous laughter erupted from the group of friends before they quieted down into low snickers to not spook the horse.

 She jumped onto the back of the mare, her hands tight on the white mane as the powerful animal bolted. Mistlynn’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched as she focused on hanging on to the beast beneath her. She managed to hold on for a few moments before she was bucked off, somersaulting over the front of the mare and onto the flat of her back as the horse whinnied and galloped off to the other side of the ring. Mistlynn sucked in a sharp breath as she fought to refill her lungs.

 Thorin vaulted himself over the railing at lightning speed before anyone else could react and rushed to her side, his eyes stormy and wide with panic as he skidded to his knees and knelt beside her.

 “M’eudail! Are you ok?” His eyes scanned her dust covered body in concern as she groaned and shifted before pushing herself up.

She coughed and let out a little squeak of a groan. “I’m perfectly fine. Just dazed.” She managed to wheeze. She looked up at him as she gasped in air greedily and was taken aback by the worried expression on his face.

“Sar em gabura[AA1] .” He growled as the worry in his eyes morphed into anger. “You’ve proven nothing but how foolish you are. You are done.”

 Her affronted laugh rattled as she coughed. “Done, am I? Who are you to tell me I am done?” She pushed herself up to her feet, gritting her teeth as her sore muscles protested the movement. “You're not my keeper, MY Lord. So kindly step aside and let me finish this.”

 Thorin’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding painfully as he watched her go back over to the mare, holding her hands up again to calm the wary creature.

She clapped her hands and motioned for the mare to bolt again. She had to gain the mare’s trust; she knew this. Not forcefully seize it from the creature. She had Luna’s trust since she had raised her from a young pup. This creature owed her nothing. She had often watched Argo’s with their livestock, and when it came to their reindeer, she figured the same principle could be applied. Horses were more agile and fast, but their eyes held the same intelligence.

 

Thorin walked back to the paddock fence and leaned his back against it, his arms crossed across his chest in agitation. He watched her chase the mare in the opposite direction again. She shouted and clapped her hands loudly and herded the horse skillfully, much to his surprise.

 “She handled that tumble well.” Gloin muttered to no one in particular as they watched her work with the mare tirelessly.

 “She’s a little spitfire, I’ll give her that.” Nori chuckled. “You saw how she handled the soldiers yesterday. “

 “Mighty mouse.” Kili chuckled. “I think that’s the perfect description.

 “Don’t let her catch you calling her that, she will steal the dagger from your belt and take your tongue with it.” Fili scoffed.

 Dwalin rested his forearms on the fence next to Thorin and let out a humored grunt. “Ye have your work set out for ye.”

 Thorin’s scowl deepened, his gaze not leaving Mistlynn once as she continued to move about the paddock and work with the fiery mare. He didn’t feel the need to respond to Dwalin’s comment, he knew there was no use in convincing his closest friend otherwise.

 

The minutes passed quickly as Mistlynn worked. She was nearing the hour mark and felt herself losing patience with the beautiful snow-white mare. She wanted to be able to ride her, but she seemed to be just as stubborn and unwilling to be tamed, much like herself. She couldn’t begrudge the magnificent animal that.

 Argo’s had made this all look so easy. Animals had been drawn to him, as if he could speak to them with his eyes and body language alone. She felt her heart twinge at the thought of her little brother. He would have been riding the mare at this point, he wouldn’t have ruined his chances by jumping on her back. He would have made sure to win her trust first.

 She had been too focused on winning the wager with the infuriating Dwarrow who seemed to do nothing but rile her up with a mere smirk and skillfully directed jab. He was now truly under her skin.

 She stopped in the center of the paddock and watched the mare continue to gallop circles around her. She let her shoulders sag, a small sign of defeat as she turned to face her audience that had grown quiet as the minutes bled into an hour. She let out an exasperated breath as she placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Thorin. He was still in the paddock with her, leaning against the wooden slats with his broad shoulders, arms and legs crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world at that moment as he watched her fail.

 That was a difficult realization for her to swallow, the desire to impress him had surged upwards into her throat, nearly choking her while stealing the air from her lungs. She had never experienced this sudden need to impress a male that was not kin to her, and that made her skin tingle as if she were blushing.  Her throat bobbed as she attempted to gain her voice back.

“You’ve won your wager, my Lord.” Her voice was clipped as she forced herself to look up at him to meet his piercing gaze.

 Thorin’s eyebrows raised slowly, a corner of his mouth twisting up in a half smirk. Dwalin scoffed and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath while everyone else seemed to share looks of intrigue and respect.

 Thorin cocked his head to the side as he chuckled. “I think it would be fair we called it a draw.”

 She blinked in confusion at his response, but before she could question him about it she heard the sound of hoofs approaching her from behind. She felt a soft huff of breath on her shoulder before a soft knicker tickled her ear. She held her breath in surprise as the mare came up behind her, gently nudging her shoulder with its head before draping its neck over her shoulder.

 Mistlynn slowly turned her head to look at the mare in awe. She raised a hand up slowly and placed it upon the forehead to trace the soft fur underneath the long mane that hung over the soft earth brown eyes that peered at her. For the first time since Luna, she felt a connection. And she began to understand the draw to ride such a powerful creature that was meant to run. She wasn’t a predator built to pursue its prey, but an animal that was made to chase the wind.

 [AA1]Dammit it! (May it melt) -

******

Taglist-

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin

[letaliabane]

Its been awhile but I have been working on the next 'Care For' chapter as promised. Here is a sneak peak.

'I know my request may have been sudden for your visit and that I've already asked plenty from you during our travels. But I needed to attend to a matter of urgency that needed your assistance.'

'Oh? And what might that be?'

Thorin sighed. 'I need your assistance in finding Y/N.'

Gandalf's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 'Oh? Is that so?'

'Don't play coy with me Gandalf. I've been told that Kili saw you take her away when I was injured. I've been searching and searching, and I haven't found her. All I want ... All I want is to see her again.'

Gandalf took in Thorin's appearance. Though he carried himself with confidence, he could see the pain in Thprin's eyes, the longing. Dark shadows creased beneath his eyes, jaw tight and locked.

Coming soon!

[itslulabee]

Participation (Ch.2)

~

Sharing is Caring

Kili x OC, Fili x OC (Smut!!)

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

Description; This fanfic is posted to my AO3 as well, it's basically just pure filth with my OC Kaia and five members of Thorin's Company, we're continuing on with Fili ;)

MINORS DNI!! smut!! back off if ur a wee one!!

AN; I stand by the headcanon that Fili eats people out like a man STARVING

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

~ <3 ~

“Well, what do we have here?”

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

Fili stands a few feet away, leaning against a tree. He looks down at the two, head tilted slightly.

“Are we having a little tussle?”

Kili scoffs, raising himself onto his elbows.

“No.” He says indignantly, raising his eyebrows at his brother. Fili smirks, and Kili sits back to pull up his trousers, blushing slightly.

Kaia raises herself onto her elbows, looking between the two brothers.

Fili looks back to her, eyes travelling down her dishevelled form. Her skirts are still hitched around her hips, displaying her legs. Fili deeply inhales at the sight of them, before looking over at his brother.

“Well done, Kili. Finally told her you care about her?” Fili asks, his voice tight.

Kili looks at her, and gives her a small smile.

“There wasn’t much talking…” Kaia chuckles, holding Kili’s eyes as he blushed even more. “But I got the gist.”

“Ah, young love…” Fili chuckles, “What would Amad say about you defiling your lady before putting a braid in her hair, Kee?”

Kili scoffs, leaning back slightly. “Amad will be happy I at least found someone... my One. How far have you gotten with that?”

At that, Fili smiles too. He gives Kaia a significant look, and her breath hitches. Fili’s eyes travel down her body.

Kaia watches Fili, before looking over at Kili. She was shocked to hear me call her his One, but her heart fluttered at the thought. She'd had a crush on Kee since the first week of their travels, specifically since he gave her a flower with a blush on his face. And they proceeded to fall halfway down a hill. He was truly one of a king, and she knew she was falling for him. 

Fili's next words brought her back to the present.

“As long as you made her cum, I see no problem…” Fili shrugs, crossing his arms across his chest.

Kili and Kaia are silent. Kaia avoids Kili’s eyes, clearing her throat. Fili stands still, looking between the two of them.

“Wait.... you made her cum, didn’t you, Kee?” Fili asks his brother, eyebrows raised.

Kili is silent, playing with a blade of grass next to him. Kaia looks over at Fili, who is staring shocked at his little brother.

“Kili. We were raised better than that!” His disappointment is palpable, and if it wasn’t for the fact that both princes looked completely serious, this conversation would be hilarious.

“Fee, it’s no big deal.” Kaia states, sitting up. She pokes her foot at Kili, who looks at her in confusion and surprise. She shrugs, looking over at Fili.

The golden haired prince gapes at her. “No big deal?!” He says, incredulous. He walks over to the pair, crouching down.

“Lass, I know you’re used to the way of men. But, as we’ve pointed out, our ways are much different.” Fili says, seriously. “Dwarven women are precious to us. More than any gem. Making them happy is one of the most important things to us! This is why dwarrowdams have so many lovers. Satisfaction is a must.”

Kaia stares wide eyed at him, utterly confused. Both he and Kili are looking at her in earnest, expressions grave.

“I’m not a dwarrowdam.”

“If you are a dwarrows love, then you are practically one of us. You have the body of man, but your soul is made of the same stuff as us dwarves.” Fili nods.

“Now. Let us get one thing straight, ‘ibin abnâmul (beautiful gem). If a dwarf cannot satisfy his One, then she is completely within her right to seek satisfaction elsewhere.”

Kaia stares at him, confused once again. Both Fili and Kili are watching her, eyes urging her on.

“What do you mean?” She asks, breaking the silence that had grown.

“Kaia, it would be my honour to be your lover.” Fill says, taking her hand in his own.

Kaia gapes at him, before looking at Kili.

“But-”

“Please, amrâlimê.” Kili pleads, taking her other hand in his own. His eyes and words are sincere. “Let my brother take care of you.”

“You’re… you’re okay with this… your brother, becoming my lover?”

“My heart is yours, ghivashel (treasure of all treasures). After tonight, I would be honoured to put a braid in your hair, if you would put one in mine.” Kaia’s heart warms to this, and beams at Kili. The two share a soft kiss.

Fili watches the two, his own smile gracing his lips. Looking at him, Kaia creases her eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t feel weird… or inferior?” She asks Kili, searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort. But, all she finds is love.

“It is an honour to know your lady is desired, to know she is loved by many. I want you to embrace our ways. I want you to never spend a day unsatisfied.” Kili murmurs, reaching his hand up to cup her face.

He shares a meaningful look with Fili. “It would not be odd for us, as we trust each other completely.”

The brothers share a smile, before pressing their foreheads together, before Kili looks at her and winks.

“Plus, we have always shared everything.” He teased, his hand moving to trace along her bare thigh.

“But.” Fili starts, “If you are uncomfortable, or you do not wish to take a lover, or if you do not wish for me to be one of them, that is completely fine.” He brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I care for you as my brothers One, nothing will change that. Please, do not feel pressured, sweet girl.”

Kaia is moved, tears prickling in her eyes. The love she feels from both of these brothers is something she has never dreamt of experiencing. She loves them both, in equal measure but in different ways. And she desires them both... 

“I would be honoured to be yours, Kili.” Kaia says, watching as Kili beams, before turning to Fili, “And I would be honoured to have you as my lover, Fili.”

Said prince smiled brightly at her, a dimple forming underneath his moustache braids. He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. Kili kisses her hand, and Kaia feels her whole body glowing with happiness at this turn of events.

Pulling back, the older Durin prince looks over Kaia’s body. Kaia feels herself blush, her cunt fluttering at his heated gaze.

“Now that we’ve gotten all of that sappy shit out of the way…” Fill murmurs, looking over at his brother, “Let me show you how to properly pleasure a lass.”

Kaia giggles as Fili leans forward and steals a kiss, trailing his lips over her jaw, down her neck and gently bites her shoulder.

File crawls on top of her, gliding his hands over her shoulders, and across her chest. Kaia moans as his fingers touch her breasts over her corset. Fili chuckles into her shoulder.

“Sensitive, are we?”

“Stop teasing me, you fucker.” Kaia groans. Both brothers chuckle lowly at this, and as Fili moves his head down to her chest, Kaia watches as Kili leans back on his elbows, dragging his hand lazily over his crotch. He winks at her, taking his lower lip between his teeth.

The sight of watching him fondle his growing bulge, and feeling Fili drag his teeth over her clothes nipples make Kaia whimper, clenching her knees together to get some friction to her core.

File grabs at the top of her corset, tearing it open to give him access to her tits. She gasps, arching her back. The prince damn near groaned as he eyed her heaving breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. He sucked hard, making Kaia moan and squirm below him. He flicks the other nipple with his finger, his other hand moving to shuck up her skirt even further up her body.

His skilled finger found her cunt immediately, tracing his fingers across her sensitive slit.

“Fili, fuck!” Kaia groans, bringing her fist up to her mouth to bite down on her knuckles.

“Let me hear you, badgûna (lady of my dreams). Tell me what you need.” File groaned around her breast, moving further down her to press kisses along her stomach.

“File please… I need you… touch me…”

“As you wish, sweet girl.”

Fili plunged two fingers into her, pressing into her until he was knuckle deep. She gasped and moaned low, eyes rolling back at the combined feeling of his fingers on her breast, his lips on her stomach and his digits pumping into her.

File scissored his fingers into her, adding a third as her cunt began to grip him harder. She was a moaning, writhing mess as he dropped his mouth lower. Pushing up her skirt, his golden mane disappeared between her legs.

“FILI!” She screamed, as his lips latched onto her clit and sucked, hard. Stars appeared in front of her, as an earth-shattering orgasm hit her. She went silent, unable to form words as Fili continued to suck, four fingers pumping into her pulsing cunt as she came in waves over his face.

Kaia arched off the ground, hand moving to his hair pulling hard as he overstimulated her poor clit. He sucked and licked at her like she was the elixir of life, tasting her and urging her to give him more, he himself groaning as she tugged on his scalp.

Kaia opened her eyes to look at the stars above, vision blurry as her body built up to another orgasm, painfully on the precipice.

She moved her eyes from the sky, travelling across the landscape until they fell on Kili.

He was on his knees a few feet away, slightly hunched over as he fisted his cock. He was red-faced, mouth open wide as he pumped himself hard, his cock red between his white knuckled grip. He watched her writhing body, before turning his eyes to hers.

Immediately, he let out a loud groan, staring her in the eyes as his body shuddered, his cock releasing ropes of cum onto his hand and stomach.

He slumped over, still fisting his cock as he shook.

The sight alone made her cum again. She bit her lip to stop herself screaming out again, arching her back until she could see the world around her turn upside down. Her body erupted, her muscles spasming as she fell into complete bliss.

File gently played with her whilst she came down from her high. Waves of pleasure cascaded through her body like flashes of starlight.

She loosened her grip on his hair, running her fingers through it to bring her back to reality.

“How do you feel, ghivashel?” Fili asks, resting a hand on her cheek. Kaia lifts her own hand up, resting it atop his own. She is sweating and exhausted, but her heart is filled.

Yet, she still was not completely satisfied.

Looking over Fili’s dishevelled person, she noted his half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks. His mouth is covered in her release, his moustache braids damp. His clothes are askew, his coat pushed slightly down his arms and his shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing thick golden hair across his pecs. Travelling her eyes further, she bit her lip taking in the bulge between his legs.

“You’re so good with your mouth, madtubirzu…(golden heart)” Fili’s eyes and smile widened at the pet name, unaware that she had taken time to learn some Khuzdul during their journey.

Kaia smirked mischieously, reaching down to grab at Fili’s erection. “…but how are you with this?”

Fili grins devilishly, leaning down to press his lips to hers. His kiss was slower than his brothers, expertly dancing his lips over her own. She continued to grope him through his trousers, and he ran his hands through her hair in response, as he growled low in this throat.

He rises up to his elbows, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

“Are you watching, Kee?” He calls.

Kaia looks over towards Kili, who is now sat reclined against the soil, trousers done up again as he watched his brother and his lover.

“I thought you were going to show me how to pleasure her, Fee, not how to tease her and act like an ass…” Kili chuckled, winking at Kaia. She bit her lip at the brotherly teasing, enjoying their dynamic.

“Big words from a dwarrow who came the second he got his end away!” Fili sniggers, throwing Kaia a wink. Kili goes to say something else.

“Too much talking , not enough shagging!” Kaia groans, glaring good-naturedly at her boys.

Fili looks down at her, mouth open in faux-shock. “Wow Kaia, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

“And she knows how to use it…” Kili drawls, biting his lip.

“Alright, alright. She’s right, too much talking.” Fili leans down slightly to grab her by the backs of her thighs. She squeals as he lifts her legs, bending them and pressing her knees to his chest.

On impulse, she tries to shut her knees together, but Fili slides himself between them, trapping himself against her. He grinds his hard, clothed length against her, rubbing against her clit. Kaia gasps, staring up at him with blown out pupils.

Fili smirks at her reaction, nuzzling his nose to hers in a nose kiss. They share a smile, before Fili sits back on his knees, undoing the ties of his trousers.

“You might want to hold onto something, lass…” He groans, pulling out his cock and stroking it at the sight of her splayed out for him.

His dick is beautiful. Slightly shorter than Kili’s but thicker and curved slightly. Fili grabs her hips, pulling her up slightly as he looms over her.

“…I’m not going to go easy on you.” With that, he thrusts into her fully.

Kaia screams, throwing her head back as he fills her instantly.

He starts fucking her hard and fast, hooking her knees around his arms to open herself fully up to him. He sets a pace which is harsh, pulling her up and down his length in tandem with his own thrusts.

Above her, Fili groans and pants, staring down at her as sweat beads onto his forehead. Kaia stares up at him, mouth hanging open as she takes everything he gives her.

His hips hit her own at an angle, bumping against her sensitive clit every time he thrusts into her. Kaia can feel her head spinning and the coil inside her tightening with every punishing thrust.

Fili lets go of her knees, in favour of grabbing her ankles, lifting and stretching them up to place them against his shoulders. He leans down, foldering her in half under him, hitting her at a deeper angle.

Kaia’s vision goes blurry, digging her fingers into his tunic and becoming a writhing mess beneath this beautiful dwarf.

The new position has Fili hitting a specific spot inside her over and over again, bringing her closer and closer to yet another earth shattering end. Fili holds his forehead against hers, his hot breath fanning her face and their own sweat mingling.

Movement catches Kaia’s attention to her left, and she turns her face to watch as Kili lies down next to the humping pair. He watches her face, biting his lip as she smiles at him with a blissed expression.

“My beautiful girl…” Kili murmurs.

Fili continues thrusting into Kaia, pressing his sweaty forehead into her shoulder as his thrusts became more erratic.

“Kee, play with her clit.” Fili groans, his own hands too busy with playing with her tits and grabbing her hair in a vice like grip.

Kili doesn’t need to be told twice, he reaches between them and starts rubbing her clit in figures of eight, nuzzling into the other side of her neck. One of Kaia’s hands detangles from Fili’s tunic to grasp onto Kili’s unoccupied hand, and she feels him kiss her neck.

The coil inside her tightens almost painfully, and she can feel herself on the precipice once again

“I’m- I’m going to-”

“Cum, ‘ibin abnâmu. I want to feel you cum on my cock.” Fili moans, fucking her with abandon.

“Cum for us, Amrâlimê!” Kili pants, sucking on her pulse point and rubbing his hand against her clit.

Kaia does just that. Throwing her head back and letting out a silent scream, she loses herself in her third orgasm of this amazing night.

Kili kisses up her neck, kissing her cheek, her temple, her forehead and then her nose. She looks back down at him, and he gives her a dazzling smile.

Fili lets out a groan from on top of her, and she feels how his cock pulses inside of her as he finishes, filling her up.

She drags her hand through his hair, forcing his head back to look into her eyes.

Blue eyes meet her own, equally blissed out, ones. He gives her a smile, kissing her gently before pulling out of her, causing them to both sigh.

Both brothers collapse on either side of her, taking each of her hands in their own.

Kaia feels Fili’s seed slipping out of her, covering the ground beneath her. She lets out a contented sigh, excited to have a wash soon…

-

We're all whores here :) thanks for reading, chapter three will be up soon!! First four chapters are posted on my AO3, if you can't wait!

Translations ~

Badgûna – dream girl ‘ibin abnâmul – beautiful gem Amrâlimê – love of mine

[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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[fizzyxcustard]

How would Thorin comfort his lover? Both when it’s related to physical pain/injury and emotional distress

Please and thank you! 🩵🩵

Thorin, in my mind, shows his love through touch. Comforting his lover would mean touching her gently, whether her hand, arm, face, or maybe something a little more intimate, like a leg, when no one is looking.

Obviously physical injury may be a little more difficult, but Thorin would tend to her wounds himself, not wanting touch from anyone else. I imagine him being a little jealous in that respect. Not overly, but something he can’t help himself feel.

Apart from touch, he is a gift giver. He’d shower her with flowers, trinkets and even food. Then he’d encourage her to rest, not take on extra duties, and remain beside her. ♥️

Thank you for asking, love! Thoroughly enjoyed answering this.