#thorin x oc

[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.

[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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[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)

[greenandsorrow]

MASTERPOST || HELLO MY OLD HEART (ongoing)

Pairing; mainly Thorin Oakenshield x fem!faerie!reader

Warnings; fighting scenes, descriptions of injuries, death & loss, sexual undertones at times, middle earth magic, angst & hurt, mean!reader, selfish!reader, immortal!reader, reader with fem anatomy, a not sugarcoated Thorin, I have read the Silmarillion and you should too

Summary; Thorin & company set out to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor from the claws of the cunning Smaug. On their way out of Hobbiton they come across something peculiar. Faeries in Middle Earth have gone extinct, but you have managed to survive against all odds. Your unique beauty and mischievous but still kind character captures the king's heart. His suspicions towards your magic will soon be replaced with a deep love for the real you. Are you ready to go on an adventure?

Author's note; I love the Hobbit. I have some issues with the movie adaptation but that hasn't stopped me from rewatching it relentlessly. The book is like a blanket of comfort to me and I've been smitten with the fictional character of Thorin for too long 🥹

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THE HOBBIT

An unexpected journey

soon

The desolation of Smaug

Battle of the five armies

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[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Eleven

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

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

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

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.3k

Read on AO3

Butterflies fluttered about in Eirlys’ belly as Madris steered her to the bench at her vanity. “This is silly, Madris. He knows what to expect. He’s a man and has probably done this a thousand times before.”

“Eirlys!”

“What?” Eirlys met her horrified gaze in the large oval mirror above the vanity table. “Have I said something I shouldn’t?”

“Well… not exactly, I suppose. But what do you know of what he expects?”

“Because Tauriel and I did speak. And quite often.”

“And that’s what His Majesty gets for allowing the two of you to become friends.”

“That is neither fair nor kind, Madris.” Eirlys shook her head. “I never thought you to be anything of a snob, you know. Tauriel was like a sister to me and I miss her so terribly now.”

“Well, ordinarily I’m not, but… well… you are a young maiden and should have been innocent of such things until you were married.”

“And now I am. And I know full well what Thorin of Erebor will expect this night and all I can hope is that I do not disappoint him. I’ll imagine he’s been with a fair number of women before me.”

Although her cheeks grew ruddy, Madris merely asked, “What makes you think so?”

Eirlys stared at her in the glass. “Have you not seen what he looks like, Madris? Tauriel thought Kíli handsome, but Thorin makes him look like a mountain troll.”

“My lady!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well… no, I don’t suppose I can. But, again…” Madris sighed sharply, her cheeks growing redder still. “What did Tauriel tell you? Just so I know what I should tell you.”

The butterflies worsened and her cheeks grew slightly warm, but Eirlys still managed a smile. “You needn’t tell me anything, Madris. I’ll be fine and your face might melt completely off otherwise.”

“Are you certain?”

Eirlys let her gaze drop to her own reflection. Her cheeks were only slightly pink, despite the growing heat in them. “Well…. I suppose…”

“What is it?”

“What if I do disappoint him? What if I disappoint him so greatly, he seeks his comfort elsewhere?”

“You know him better than I do,” Madris replied carefully, sinking onto the elaborately carved chest at the foot of Eirlys’ bed. “Do you think he would do such a thing?”

“I don't know. I only know him slightly better than you, remember.”

“Fair enough. But,” the mattress squeaked softly as Madris got to her feet and moved to cup Eirlys’ chin, “do not worry and do not compare yourself to any who might have come before you. You will benefit from anything he’s taken away from previous experience. And besides, you know not that he will even compare you. Men are funny that way. They tend to forget those in their past when they are caught by the one with whom they are meant to be.”

“Meant to be? Madris, my father arranged this marriage and it’s mostly one of convenience.”

“Perhaps,” Madris straightened up as a gentle knock sounded, “but I saw how he looked at you, both during the ceremony and after. I’m not entirely sure it will remain a marriage of convenience. For either of you. At least, not for very long, anyhow.”

“Eirlys?” Thorin called softly, knocking once more. 

Eirlys swallowed hard, her hands falling into her lap, into the pale ivory silk of the nightgown that had been left laid out on her bed by one of the servants. The fabric was cool and smooth, but wrinkled easily, so she smoothed out the newest creases and said, “You should probably let him in.”

“Of course.” In a rare breach of protocol, Madris bent to press a kiss into the top of Eirlys’ head. “Worry not. You have nothing to fear, love.”

Tears poked the backs of Eirlys’ eyes at the maternal touch, and smiled as she slowly nodded. “I hope not.”

“You won’t. I feel it in my bones.” Madris stepped away from the bench and crossed to the door, where she tugged it open and greeted Thorin with a warm, “Good evening, Your Majesty. I apologize for the wait.”

“It’s of no trouble,” he hesitated, “Madris, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. If you require me for anything, you need only tug the cord alongside Her Highness—erm—Her Majesty’s bed. I will bid you both a good evening and once more offer you my best wishes on your marriage.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Madris took her leave and as the door clicked shut, Eirlys’ belly gave a might leap. She suddenly felt terribly underdressed in the nightgown, as it was far more revealing than anything she’d ever worn before, with a plunging neckline, edged in lace, that offered up more than a peek at the inner curves of her breasts.

And that wasn’t all. The sides were lace, and would leave little to the imagination when she stood. She stared at her reflection, swallowing hard when she realized the gown was sheer enough that she could make out the dark shadows of her nipples through the silk. Oh, my…

Madris had set out a silk and lace wrapper for her as well, but it currently lay draped over the foot of her bed, where it had been set earlier alongside the gown, and a sudden, unfamiliar shyness swept through her, rendering her incapable of rising.

“Is something the matter?” Thorin’s voice was still soft, his boots thudding dully on the floor as he came into the room and appeared in the glass behind her. He looked tired, his eyes heavy-lidded, as he eased the brilliant blue tunic he wore over his head.

Her mouth went suddenly dry at the unexpected sight of her husband’s bare chest. He’d shown no hesitation in whisking the garment from his body, no shyness at all, and it was easy to see why.

He was, without a doubt, the most powerfully-built man she’d ever seen. Thick, curly black hair shot through with silver spilled over broad shoulders and tumbled down his back. A heavy mat of black hair curled away from his skin, covering his barrel chest from shoulder to shoulder and down over his belly, where it disappeared into the waist of his black linen trousers. He bore more than a few scars, and the upper right side of his chest was inked with an intricate pattern of lines of varying size that curved along his upper arm and over his shoulder as well. 

Draping the tunic over his forearm, he said, “Where should I put this? It needs to be laundered.”

“O—over in that—that basket.” She rose and then turned to point to the tall, narrow woven basket in the far corner, near her wardrobe. “Maylin will take everything in the morning, while we are at breakfast.”

To her horror, his eyes widened at the sight of her and the urge to throw her arms across her chest nearly strangled her. Especially when those pale blue eyes moved slowly up to meet hers.

Then, he offered up a sheepish grin, balling up the tunic to throw at the basket. The basket bumped softly against both the wall and the wardrobe, but the tunic landed squarely inside it. “I beg your pardon, Eirlys. I wasn't expecting you to look so… striking…”

The uncomfortable heat became far more pleasant with those words. She still felt far too exposed, but for a moment, she didn't mind it. “Thank you.”

The sheepishness left his smile and he lowered his hands. She swallowed hard as he reached for his heavy gold belt buckle, and it rattled when he unbuckled it. Any moment now and those elegant trousers would simply spill from him to puddle at his feet.

But to her surprise, the gold belt with its heavy buckle slid easily through its loops, and his trousers remained firmly in place. He turned to let it fall atop the chest, and while he had his back to her, Eirlys practically dove at her wrapper and was shrugging into it as he turned back.

His smile widened, his eyes dancing with something that looked very much like merriment as he said, “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much about covering yourself. You’ve no need to, you know.”

Heat swirled through her, caused her to pull the ski robe more tightly about herself. “I—I beg your pardon?”

He took a step closer to her. “You looked fine the way you were.” 

As he spoke, he caught the edge of the wrapper, curling his fingers into the stiff lace. Her heart pounded against her ribs at his gentle tug, at the lace scraping lightly against her. Her cheeks felt like they had to be bright scarlet by now, but there was no denying how the sudden race of her blood was far more delicious than it was unnerving. It almost made her tingle from the inside out.

He leaned toward her then, the coarse whiskers along his chin scraping her just as lightly as the lace dragging against her collarbone did, and when his lips found hers, they were warm and soft and gently teasing.

Eirlys met him, letting her hand come to rest against his bared chest, her fingers slipping into hair that was far softer than she imagined it would be. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat, steadily at first, but as his lips parted and his tongue swept along hers, it sped up, thumping hard and fast beneath her touch. 

His lips moved against hers, going from warm to hot as his tongue slid deep along hers, teased hers, drew it back into the wet heat of his mouth, where she did the same to him. The lace scraped harder now, the silk skimming her left shoulder as it spilled from her to pool in the crook of her bent arm. 

Fire filled her as he deepened his kiss, his hunger feeding hers. Another gentle tingle swept through her, the warm silk a caress against her now-too-sensitive skin. Her nipples beaded against it to bring a sigh to her lips. The silk teased those aching beads now, her back bowing of its own as if to encourage him to let his hands wander down to her breasts, to cup them and tease her nipples further still. 

But to her great impatience, he showed no interest in her breasts, but instead caught the wrapper with both hands now to shove it from her, and she lowered the hand resting on his chest to let it spill from her.

A thick arm slid about her waist, drew her flush against him and she couldn't hold back her gasp as that crisp hair combined with the hot smooth silk to torment her further. Tiny knots tightened deep within her, first in her belly, but then they dropped lower and she was all too aware of the damp heat now swelling between her thighs. 

He bent her back slightly, groaning softly into her mouth as the motion thrust her breasts firmly against his chest. His free hand skimmed down along her hip, his fingers brushing her bared skin as he slowly tugged the silk gown up, along her calf, over her knee, toward her hip. 

His fingertips came rough upon her aching skin, and as they swept along the back of her thigh, she shivered against him, lifting that leg to arch against him, against the sudden, firm bulge she felt at the apex of his own thighs. 

The hand on her hip swept around, curved against her cheek to clasp her hard against him. His gentle thrust was almost her undoing, as it sent a spiky hot pleasure rippling through her, one that had her mewling with pleasure into his mouth. 

He drew back, breaking his kiss, but then moved to sweep his lips along her chin, her neck bowing as he moved along it, as he kissed his way down into that plunging vee, along the inner curve of her left breast. 

Eirlys couldn't keep her heavy-lidded eyes open. The sensations racing through her rendered her addled and aching for more. She couldn't breathe, her head spun too wildly and her heart raced unlike it ever had before. Desire, strong and sweet, flooded her and without thinking, she slid one hand down between them, to curve it against that swollen part of him, her curiosity as strong as her need. She had never seen a naked man before and as she traced along his thick length, her imagination ran wild with what she would soon see with this one.

“Eirlys…” her name was a breathless, heated whisper along the curve of her right breast, and she shivered as he shifted and his mouth closed over her nipple, his tongue dampening the silk as he slowly traced about the bead he’d caught. The combination of wet silk and his rough tongue set off a chain reaction inside her, made those knots twist and tighten as arousal flooded her.

He rocked against her, the pressure offering only hints of relief. 

Then, his fingers brushed down into the crease of her thigh and bottom and then—

“Oohhh…” she breathed heavily into his hair as his fingertips brushed the curls shielding her womanhood from his eyes. Those curls parted. And his fingers teased lightly along aching flesh that had been touched by no man before him. 

Her curls parted. His caress slow and teasing as he slid one fingertip along her, as the pad of that finger just brushed over the sensitive bead nestled within. 

Her fingers tightened on him involuntarily, a cry bubbled to her lips as he then slipped that same finger slowly inside her. She tightened about it, her hips moving of their own as he did a slow, teasing stroke that had her sinking her free hand into his thick hair. She twisted and held on, her body begging him to move faster, the knots threatening to come undone in the sweetest of ways. She teetered on the unfamiliar edge, clinging to him, rocking to meet each teasing thrust, each delectable swirl.

He teased her until she thought she’d burst, until she thought she’d go mad with the need for some kind of release. Her head spun madly. Her body begged for his, for that part of him that would bring out the relief she so desperately sought.

His name rose of its own to her lips, a husky, raw whisper, “Thorin…” 

His tongue swirled about the silk, about her nipple. His finger moved silkily inside her. The knots tightened further still. Every muscle seemed to tense, hot and tight and aching with need.

Then he shattered her.

She cried out, unable to hold it back as the knots exploded and fire rained upon her, spun wildly through her, left her dizzy and raw and clinging to him as each delicious pulse swept through her, as she tightened about him and her fingernails dug into his nape, her fingers twisted sharply in his hair. Oh, this was beyond amazing, this pleasure that tore through her like a wildfire, that washed over her like a tidal wave.

He caught her around the waist with his free arm, kissing his way back to her lips before drawing back. Then, he swung her effortlessly into his arms to spirit her to her bed, where he bent to set her down, looming over her, his black hair spilled all around them. 

Thorin bent to her, his mouth hot and hungry as it found hers, his kiss filled with the same fire and desire he’d sent sweeping through her. Without thinking, she freed the buttons of his trousers to shove her hand inside and beneath the hot linen she found even hotter man. That hard part of him was hot and veined, the skin soft and almost supple. Her fingers moved of their own along his length, about his thickness, and when she curled her fingers about him and swept her hand down, he shuddered against her.

He arched into her touch, his groan low and throaty, a shudder rippled through his body and his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. With each stroke, he grew harder, thicker, and she smiled as he moaned softly. She might not know exactly what she was doing, but he certainly seemed to have no complaints.

His breath caught. His body tensed. His head fell into her chest as he growled, “Eirlys…”

Then, to her surprise, he grabbed her hand to pull it free from his trousers. Disappointment flashed through her, even as he breathlessly whispered, “I wish to see you.” 

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she met his gaze. His eyes seemed brighter, far bluer now and they held hers as he shifted to catch her gown, now damp in several spots, to whisk it up along her thighs. The air was cool despite the fire crackling on the hearth, but heat swept through her as the silk rose over her hips and his gaze fell upon her. No man had ever seen her this way and the fire that gleamed in Thorin’s beautiful blue eyes spoke volumes. They fairly burned with desire and a sinful smile curved his lips as he tugged the silk higher still.

Eirlys pushed herself up and as the silk skimmed over her head, she felt his gaze before she saw it. The gown fluttered to the floor, leaving her bare before him and she almost smiled at the soft, strangling sound that rose in his throat.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching to tug off his boots and stockings before coming back up to grip the waist of his trousers. They rested on his hips and seemed to offer no resistance as he pushed them down. Linen swept along thighs heavily laden with muscle and layered with curling black hair, down along calves wrapped with bands of thick muscle.

Her mouth went dry. He was a sight to behold, her dwarf, and she had never dreamed such a magnificent man could exist.

Until now.

He offered up an impish smile. “You are staring.”

Heat climbed into her cheeks. “I beg your pardon… I did not—”

He bent to brush her lips with his. “I mind not. I find I’ve got a bit of the stares myself. You are stunning.”

He gave her no chance to respond, but claimed her lips in a teasing kiss that was gentle and sweet. Her lips parted of their own, welcomed him as it deepened, as he gently eased her onto her back and settled between her parted thighs.

He was solid and firm, but kept most of his bulk supported on his forearms. At least, he did until she slipped her arms about his middle and pulled him firmly against her. He arched against her, his sigh becoming hers as she pressed her thighs into his sides and that thick, swollen part of him brushed against her slick, aroused feminine flesh. He arched again to glide against her, and although the remnants of her climax had faded, the pleasure surged through her anew.

He reached between them and a moment later, she felt him press against her. He was gentle, moved slowly as if afraid he’d hurt her otherwise. Her fingernails bit into his back in anticipation as he deepened his kiss and pushed with a bit more force. Any moment and he would be inside her. Any—

—moment.

Ow. 

The pain came unexpectedly and she sucked in a sharp breath as it felt like he tried to tear her asunder. Hot. Stinging. Sharp. She couldn’t hold back her cry as he continued his assault.

“No… please don’t…”

She tried to pull away but he whispered, “It will stop in a moment, mesmel. I promise you, it will…”

But it didn't stop. No, it worsened exponentially and she shuddered beneath him as there came a sudden, tearing pop and then…

Then he filled her and went still against her. 

Was that it? She frowned even as the stinging subsided. It no longer hurt, but…

He moved slightly.

Her breath hitched. That definitely did not hurt.

“Eirlys?” He rose onto his forearms, gazing down at her with eyes of concerned sapphire. 

“I think I’m all right,” she whispered back, easing her grip on his back. “I just… I didn't know it would hurt.”

“But does it still?”

“I—I don't think so,” she shook her head. 

“Good.” He bent to kiss her, then offered up a slow thrust, whispering, “And that?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

Then he thrust once more, this time with a bit more fire. All traces of pain vanished and left in their wake, a sparkling pleasure that grew with each steady, controlled thrust. He moved easily inside her, silky and slow, and she savored every delectable inch of him, her thighs squeezing his sides, her fingernails biting once more into the warm skin of back. 

The pleasure engulfed her, going from sweet to spicy hot as his thrusts came swifter and more powerful now. He rose onto his forearms once more, moving faster still, his eyes screwed shut, his breath as fast and furious as his thrusts now. 

Delicious fire filled her, beginning where they joined to flood her veins, to send flashes of brilliant white light dancing before her eyes. Her head spun wildly once more, her body hummed with the need for release and with each thrust, Thorin brought her closer to that blessed end. She clung to him as he drove them both along the length of the bed, where she finally had to throw up a hand to keep from slamming into the headboard of woven branches. 

He surged hard then, crushing her close as the knots inside her burst once more and she cried out her pleasure, arching to meet him, wrapping herself about him. He drove them over the edge, her climax a shower of fire and ice and everything wonderful.

“Eirlys…” Her name was a husky growl on his lips. He thrust hard once more, tensed, shuddered, and then went rigid as he came. 

A peaceful silence, broken only by their mutual fight to draw breath, settled about them as Thorin sank against her, his head coming to rest on her breast, his breath hot blasts against her equally hot skin. 

Eirlys’ eyes were too-heavy-lidded to remain open and so she let them close, her fingers moving lightly along the silken length of Thorin’s tangled black curls, smiling when his lips ever so gently swept against the inner curve of her left breast. 

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

He lifted his head, regarding her with eyes that were just as sleepy as hers. “Isn’t that what I am supposed to ask you?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I am as well.” He shifted sightly and they both winced as he slipped free of her. He eased off her and for a moment, she thought he was going to get up and leave, which brought down her blissful mood a tad.

But then, he stretched out alongside her and reached for her, drawing her up against him as he draped his arm about her shoulders. Eirlys hesitated at first, wincing at the damp stickiness between her thighs, but as she reached to draw the sheet and coverlet about them, she forgot the mess. The wet spot behind her was another story, but Thorin didn't seem to mind her curved up against his side, and she was so very comfortable with her head resting on his chest and her arm draped over his belly.

His thick fingers swept lightly along her shoulder, along her upper arm. “I am sorry I hurt you, Eirlys,” he murmured into the growing darkness as the logs on the hearth slowly burned up. “I hope I won’t the next time.”

She smiled. “I should have remembered.” She peered up at him in the darkness, her eyes adjusting enough to make out his profile. “Tauriel warned me, you know, after she and Kíli were married.”

“Well, no one warned me.”

Her smile faded. “I suppose I’m the first virgin you’ve been with,” she murmured. 

The sheets rustled softly as he rolled to come over her. “Mesmel, you are the first woman I’ve been with.”

His eyes glittered in the pale moonlight that filtered through from the terrace and she stared up at him. “What?”

“You sound as if you don't believe me.”

“Well, because I don’t.”

“Why?”

She stared up at him, dumbstruck that he should ask such an obvious question. “Thorin… do you mean to tell me that this was your first time as well? I mean, your first time, ever?”

He smiled and dipped to brush her lips with a teasing kiss. “It was, indeed. And a better first time I could not have asked for.”

“How is that possible? I mean… how has no other woman ever caught your eye? They must have been nearly pounding down your door to get to you.”

To her surprise, he laughed. Low and smooth, it rumbled from deep within him and he shook his head. “I am flattered you think that of me, Eirlys. Truly, I am. And perhaps it is not this way for elves, but for dwarves, we remain chaste until marriage and then, we are faithful to our chosen partner for all eternity.”

Without thinking, she reached up to trace her forefinger along his jaw, over the bristly black beard shot through with silver. “But you didn't choose me, Thorin.”

“It matters not. We are bound together and so we shall stay bound together. And I consider myself quite fortunate in that, you know.”

His words warmed her, made her smile, and when he dipped back to kiss her once more, she lost herself in it and surrendered to the magic of him once more. 

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

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

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

[doodleferp]

Averil’s officially made the transition from self insert to oc! And to celebrate that, we've got a few GIANT sketch sheets to make up for the time lost to them!

Averil still follows the “modern human in middle earth” trope, but I will get a little more into that as I condense the timeline of events enough to throw up on Tumblr. The down-low is that Middle-earth and Earth are connected by a couple doors (a la Coraline and The Chronicles of Narnia) and Averil enters Middle-earth through one. They meet Thorin a year before the quest for Erebor, they hit it off, and the rest is for another time.

I really, really wanted to make them blonde, but I guess I like redheads. Huh.

[pyropixiesposts]

[itslulabee]

Participation (Ch.5)

~

Concubine

Thorin x OC (smut!!)

(part one, part two, part three, part four, 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, our final dwarf, Mr Oakenshield <3

MINORS DNI !!! they shag, duh...

AN; There's like no build up at the start we're jumping right in where we left off! NSFW shit right from the get-go under the cut ;)

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

~ <3 ~

Kaia and Dwalin stayed together on that rock for a while… long enough for Dwalin to make Kaia finish three more times. He was relentless, insatiable, turning Kaia into a sweaty, writhing wreck with his words, fingers, mouth and cock.

After Mahal knows how long, Kaia was sat on his lap, his arms wrapped around her and dragging his hand through her hair. Kaia could do nothing but lie against his firm body, humming in appreciation for his gentle caresses.

“This feels right.” She murmurs, nuzzling into his neck.

“Aye, it does, doesn’t it?” Dwalin says, his voice rumbling like thunder all around her. “Our sweet girl.” Kaia smiles against his chest, pressing a kiss to his peck before extracting her head. Giving him a dazed smile, he helps her stand up.

After being thoroughly fucked by four different dwarves, her body was certainly feeling it. Her legs were shaky and unstable, not to mention her hips ached and she was sure she was covered in bruises and hickeys across every inch of her skin.

But she had never felt so complete.

Dwalin rested a hand on her waist, his other coming to hold onto her hand. He kisses the crown of her head, and Kaia was taken back by how gentle he was in this moment. She had seen the grizzled warrior slaughter orcs by the dozen, wielding his axes as if they were an extension of himself, barely breaking a sweat in the process.

Mere minutes ago he had been holding her against him, bouncing her up and down his cock with the strength and fervour of a wild animal, his blue eyes on fire as he held her head in place to keep their eye contact.

But here he was, holding her upright as if she were a precious jewel, delicate and priceless. Kaia smiled up at him, and was rewarded with seeing his smile in return.

-

As the two approached camp, they could hear a loud conversation. Unmistakably the voices of Nori, Dori, Bofur and Bilbo, the latter sounding horrified.

Entering the small clearing, the conversation became clearer, and Kaia could clearly hear from Nori and Bofur that they were explaining Dwarvish customs in great detail to the hobbit, who was bright red and holding his hands over his ears. Dori was also red faced, telling Nori and Bofur to be quiet.

“You see, Bilbo, when a dwarrow cannot satisfy his One, it is custom for her to bring in another to satisfy her, sometimes her husband will even watch-” Bofur rambled.

“Please stop.” Bilbo says, deadpanned as he stared at the dirt below.

“Aw, give Bilbo some peace, Bofur.” Kaia calls, patting Bilbo’s shoulder as she passes.

The group turns to look at the new arrivals. Bofur’s face lights up at seeing her, whilst Nori’s eyebrows sky rocket into his hairline. Taking in Kaia’s dishevelled appearance, and the relaxed way Dwalin holds her, the group begins hollering.

“I cannot believe it!” Nori says, shaking his head. “She’s got to have broken a record for the amount of lovers taken in one night!”

“Watch your tongue, Nori.” Dwalin warns, walking Kaia over to sit next to Balin. Kaia gives the older dwarf a careful smile, anxious about his reaction to this new information.

But Balin beams, giving her a small hug, “Welcome to the family, lass!”

“Aye, welcome to the family, Dwalin!” Bofur says, wrapping one of his arms around the formidable body of the warrior in a half-hug, who rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath.

“How did the conversation with Thorin go?” Kaia asks, trying to keep her nerves at bay.

“Oh, I imagine it’s going fine.” Balin says, patting Kaia’s shoulder beside her.

“They’re still talking?” Kaia looks over at Bofur, “Why are you back?”

“Well the conversation got a bit heated and Fili basically shoved me out of it... I imagine our king did not appreciate my jokes all too much.” Bofur chuckles, walking over to Kaia to sit on the ground in front of her, his back to her. She opened her knees and he reclined back, sighing contentedly as she played with one of his pigtails.

“They’re arguing? About… well, all of us?”

“Can’t imagine it’ll be better when he finds out about Dwalin, too.” Nori shrugs, and Dori smacks him around the back of the head.

“I wouldn’t worry, dear. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

“Dwalin!” Thorin’s voice booms across the camp, and all heads spin to see the King Under the Mountain standing at the edge of the clearing. His eyes are fiery, narrowing them at everyone present. Both of his nephews are behind him, Fili rolling his eyes and Kili looking nervous.

When his eyes fall on Kaia, his expression is tense yet unreadable, he looks away from her quickly, giving Dwalin a pointed look, before turning on his heel.

With a quiet sigh, Dwalin stands, walking over to where the king is stalking away. Fili follows after his uncle, and Kili stays put to catch Kaia’s eye. When he does, he gives her a sweet smile, looking like he wants to say something, before Dwalin grabs him around the scruff of the neck and drags him to follow the others.

“Well, that’s just fantastic.” Kaia sighs, wrapping her arms around Bofur’s neck. His large, calloused hands wrap around her forearms, pressing delicate kisses along her skin.

“I’m sure it’s fine, lass.” Balin says, but his eyebrows are knitted together.

“Why’s he mad at Dwalin?” Ori asks, scribbling away into his notebook, his eyes flickering to Kaia and Bofur every so often.

“I imagine he heard him and Kaia going at it like rabbits.” Nori says, nudging his brother.

“What?!” Kaia asks, eyes wide and heart thumping, “Did you guys hear us?!”

“No, lass-” Balin starts.

“Luckily for us.” Bilbo cuts in, his head in his hands.

“-but Thorin, Fili and Kili were talking in the cave… it’s not too far from where you and Dwalin were… well, you know.” Balin’s voice is comforting, but Kaia can feel her stomach in knots.

“They heard it?!” Kaia says, feeling her face flush red.

“I heard it.” Bofur says softly, nipping her thumb with his teeth, a clear smile on his lips.

“Oh for the love of-”

“Kaia!” Another booming yell from Thorin, and Kaia jumped in her seat. “A word.”

Looking at Thorin, she could not figure out what he was thinking. He looked tense, his body maintaining his usual kingly posture but his hands were balled up by his side. Sighing, Kaia rose from her seat, crouching to whisper in Bofur’s ear.

“If I don’t return, he’s thrown me off the cliff.” Kaia says, kissing Bofur’s temple.

“See you down there then, lass.” Bofur jokes, giving her knuckles a kiss as she leaves.

Walking over to where Thorin stands, Fili, Kili and Dwalin pass her on their way back to the group. Fili kisses her cheek, giving her a hand a squeeze. Kili rests a hand on her cheek, nuzzling her nose.

“It’ll be fine, Amrâlimê.” He murmurs, kissing her gently before he follows after his brother. She watches them go, and feels a pair of lips against her temple, as Dwalin passes.

“Don’t let him scare you, lass.” Dwalin murmurs, before grabbing her ass, “You’re ours.”

Kaia blushes as he walks away, before turning back to look at the King Under the Mountain. He inclines his head behind him, and storms away. Sighing again, she follows him.

-

The pair end up at the mouth of a cave, Kaia following after Thorin as he stomped along the edge of the cliff. They were silent for a moment as Thorin looked out at the trees around them, and Kaia bit her fingernail as nerves crept up her spine.

Neither of them had had a conversation longer than a few seconds. He would throw out commands and thinly veiled insults about her being a human, and she would offer back her own, even less conspicuous complaints about him. After a while of this, Balin and Gandalf had told them to cease their childish behaviour, and the two had left it alone. Whatever they said to one another was a short question and a one worded answer.

But now, Kaia was courting his younger nephew, fucking his older one and heir, as well as his head of guard and closest friend, and the very eager, musical miner who just so happens to be a part of his Company.

Kaia worried if he thought this was some kind of power play. Seducing three of the most important people in his lives to get to his head. Perhaps he just thought she was a whorish human who had no right to be in any kind of relationship with the heirs of Durin. Mahal knows, but Kaia had a bad feeling.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Thorin sighed. He turned from the trees to look at her, his face blank but his eyes held a fire in them. Kaia gulped, readying herself for the verbal ass-kicking she is sure to get. Hopefully it’s just verbal…

“I hear you and Kili are courting?” Thorin asks, his voice gruff.

“Uh… yeah, he braided my hair this evening.”

“I’ve been told there is more information than that.” Thorin scoffs, walking over to the cave wall to lean against it, arms folded, “Why don’t you tell me, from your point of view, what has transpired this evening.”

Kaia’s mouth hangs open, finding herself lost for words for a moment. Thorin raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to start speaking.

“How much… do you want to know?” Kaia asks, avoiding his eyes.

“Do not leave out any details.”

“Surely the others have told you enough-”

“I said,” Thorin cuts in, his voice loud and commanding, “Do not leave out any details.”

Kaia swallows thickly, feeling her heart hammering. A small part of her was a little turned on by this side of Thorin, the kingly side of him. But, she really did not need to be distracted by those thoughts when he was clearly enraged by her.

“Alright.” Kaia murmurs, clearing her throat.

“Speak up.”

“Okay!” She exclaims, feeling her cheeks go red. “The others explained dwarvish courting rituals earlier, and made me and Bilbo aware of the concept of ‘lovers’. After, I, uh, went to bathe in the river. Kili came to talk to me, and… well…”

“Well…?” Thorin urged, growing impatient.

“He told me he cared about me. Then we… well, you know.”

“Assume I do not.”

“We… made love.” Kaia mumbles, and feels herself flush harder at Thorin’s condescending laugh.

“You ‘made love’?” He laughs, and Kaia feels herself grow angry.

“We fucked.” She says, her voice louder and stabler. “He told me he wanted me, then we kissed and I pushed him against a tree and took him into my mouth. Then he fucked me against the ground.”

Thorin has gone still, his eyebrows slightly raised to indicate his surprise, but the rest of him dares not move. His breath leaves him in a short huff, and he clears his throat.

“Go on.” He says, his voice slightly raspier.

“I didn’t cum.” Kaia shrugs, “Kili was very eager and I focused on making him feel good. Fili discovered us, and was outraged to find that Kili didn’t make me cum.

“Aye, that is disrespectful, and unbecoming from a son of Durin.” Thorin muses, shifting slightly. “What then?”

“Then Fili fucked me.” She continues, feeling emboldened for some reason. Perhaps it was because she could see a slight blush across the kings cheeks, and his breath was coming out more shallowed. “He used his mouth on me, made me cum with his tongue and his fingers. Then he also fucked me.”

“How many times did you cum?” Thorin asks, his eyes dark under his thick eyebrows.

“Three times.”

“Good.” The king states, resting his head back against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her. “Continue.”

“After, Kili asked me, formally, if I would wear his courting bead. I agreed, then I went to bathe, finally. Your nephews are very distracting.” A teasing lilt to her voice made Thorin sneer slightly at her, but she could tell he was trying to keep his kingly composure.

“I do now want to hear your snide comments, girl. What happened once you went to bathe?”

“Bofur found me. I had been gone a long time and he thought that the river would be free. It was not. I was in there… wet, naked…”

Kaia lifted her hand up, dragging her finger along her dress collar, a small gesture which could be seen as nothing, but she did it with intent.

Thorin’s breath quickened slightly, but he kept himself still, his eyes trying and failing to remain on her face.

“Bofur was sweet. He was unsure about joining me at first, he did not want to make me uncomfortable. But I wanted him, and he wanted me. We fucked on the bank.”

“How?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How did you fuck? What position?” Thorin’s voice is strained, his jaw ticking as one of his hands twitched beside him, wanting nothing more than to relieve some of the pressure his trousers are applying to his stiffening cock. He had to remain stoic, but Mahal he wanted to know… he wanted to hear it from her lips…

“I rode him.” Kaia states, her hand drifting down her torso, down the valley between her breasts to settle atop her stomach, the tips of her fingers playing with the buttons.

Thorin keeps his eyes on her face, his own stony. His hands remain by his side, his head tilted back as he watches her. But he refuses to let her win this game they have started.

“Did he make you finish?” He asks, voice even.

“Yes.” Kaia smile slightly, “Twice. He let me use his cock as I rode him, and I made him cum by pulling his hair… it seems your dwarvish obsession with your hair translates to the bedroom, huh?”

Thorin scoffs, shifting his shoulders to move his hair back. It cascades over his shoulders in dark, silver tinted waves. Kaia wonders what it feels like against her fingers, if he will cum feeling her tug on it the way Bofur did…

“You seem to be unable to be fully satisfied, Kaia. You had both of my nephews and Bofur, then decided you needed Dwalin as well?”

“Four talented and handsome dwarves offered themselves to me and you think I would refuse?” Kaia scoffs, rolling her eyes, whilst Thorin’s own narrow. “I have needs, Thorin… ones which have been thoroughly seen to.”

“I am glad, because they will not be being seen to again. Not by any member of my Company.”

Kaia’s face falls, she feels her heart stop in her chest at his words. He stares at her with indifference, and Kaia feels rage bubble up inside her.

“Is that so?”

“it is.”

“And how will you go about keeping that rule in place?” Kaia asks, taking a step towards him, “Will you keep an eye on all four of them to make sure none of them sneak away? To make sure none of them lay a hand on me?”

“I will take you back to your farm if I have to.” Thorin sneers, his voice clipped, “I will not have you jeopardising this quest with your feverish desires.”

“They are not just my desires, are they Thorin?” Kaia bites, crossing her arms over her chest, “They all wanted me as much as I wanted them-”

“You are a distraction-”

“I know. You’re distracted now, aren’t you?” Kaia cannot stop the words from tumbling out, but she feels greatly rewarded by the shock on the King’s face. His mouth hangs open slightly, his eyes wide. “Is that it?”

Thorin’s jaw tightens, and he narrows his eyes at her as she walks closer to him, standing right in front of the King Under the Mountain.

“Maybe you are just upset that you didn’t get to have me first… that your cock was not the one I was fucking myself on this evening-”

“Watch your tongue!”

“Why should I need to, you can watch it for me?” She darts her tongue out and drags it over his neck, expecting Thorin to shove her away. But he gasps, his head leaning back further to give her better access. Kaia hums, licking along his jaw and pressing a kiss to his beard.

“If you wanted me too, you could have just said.” She smiles against his skin, and she can feel him swallow hard.

“I’m their king, their leader. I cannot find myself distracted by urges like this, by desires you have put into my head.”

“Have you been distracted, my king?” Kaia murmurs, feeling hm shiver against her at the formal term, “How long have you wanted me?”

“Since the morning after the storm.” Thorin responds, far too driven by his lust to care about the repercussions of his honesty. “You have bewitched me.”

“Have I?” Kaia chuckles, leaning her head back. “I am no witch, Thorin Oakenshield, whatever you feel for me is caused by no spell.”

“It might as well be.”

Kaia pouts, taking a step from him. His hands move to pull her back, but he stops himself, cursing his immediate desire to keep her close.

“If you do not want me, my king, then all you have to do is say.” Kaia says, shrugging. Thorin glares at her, his jaw tense as he looks into her eyes.

“I am a King. I am not going to be some humans lover, least of all the woman bound to my nephew.”

“Ah, see, I knew it was your pride getting in the way.” Kaia laughs humourlessly, shrugging, “If that is the case, then I shall go. If you wish it, I will return home-”

Kaia turns to leave, but as she turns her back, she feels Thorin grab her wrist. He tugs her back, pressing her against his chest.

“No. No, you will not go.” He murmurs, his mouth close to her ear. “I do not want you to.”

“I thought you said you would not become a humans lover?”

“And you were right, it is my pride speaking…” He says, his tone quieter and gentler than it had been mere seconds ago, “I… I do want you… I care for you. But… it is not easy. I feel as though the weight of the world is on my shoulders, Kaia. I do not want to do anything that would put our mission at risk. I do not want to find myself falling for you and being unable to focus on the task at hand…”

The honesty takes Kaia back, and she lets out a shuddered breath, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

“I know, Thorin. You have so many responsibilities, but that can make you feel alone.” Kaia murmurs, turning herself around in his arms. Thorin’s head is bent slightly, his hair like a curtain around his head. “You do not have to be ashamed about having desires, about caring about me. And you do not have to be ashamed to admit that you cannot do this all alone. Let me be here, for you. Please.”

He rests his forehead against her own, his eyes screwing shut.

“And if I become yours, Kaia, what then? I have lost so much in this life, what if I lose you too. What if we all do? Kili loves you, as does Fili, I can tell. I have only ever seen Bofur be serious when he talks about you, and I know Dwalin would never take a lover unless she was special. You are special, Kaia. I could not bear to give my heart and body to you just to lose you as well.”

“You won’t.”

“You do not know that.”

“Neither of us do.” Kaia shrugs, tucking his hair behind his ear, “If we lived our lives in fear of what could be, we would never feel any joy. You deserve joy, Thorin. Please, let me be the one who gives it to you.”

Thorin looks up at her, his eyes soft beneath his knitted eyebrows.

“Even if we did survive this quest, and we take back Erebor… I would be king. I would be your lover, but I would also be your king. Your One’s uncle-”

“Yes and I have already bedded his brother in front of him” Kaia laughs, kissing Thorin’s nose gently. “Stop looking for reasons why this cannot be, my king. Whatever problems and issues we come across, we face them. I know that I love Kili, I know that I adore Fili and Dwalin and Bofur, and I want you to be a part of us.”

Thorin stares down at her, his eyes soft as a small smile appears across his face, “You’re going to have to ask me formally.”

“Oh, do I?” Kaia smirks.

“I’m a king, little human. I’m not a miner who you can just fuck on the side of a river, you must ask me properly.”

Kaia sighs, rolling her eyes good naturedly. Taking a step away from him, confusion flashes across his face. Before he can assume she has rejected him, Kaia gets down on her knee.

She assumes the best imitation of bowing in front of a king as she can, bending her head down as she extends one hand to him, with the other on his chest.

“Oh, noble King Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king Under the Mountain and uncle to my One. Would you do me the honour of becoming my lover? Would you fuck me hard, make me scream, drive me to the point of insanity on your cock, fuck me in every corridor of Erebor when we get there, and-”

She is cut off by Thorin taking her hand and pulling her up, right into his arms as he laughs against her hair.

“That’s good enough, ghivashel. Not very formal, mind you.” He chuckles.

“Hey, I used all of your official titles!” Kaia laughs, and Thorin wraps his hands around her waist, pressing her closer to him.

“When we reclaim Erebor, I will do you the honour of fucking you on my throne.” Thorin’s voice rumbles against her neck, and she moans as his hands travel over her body.  

“How about we start off with you fucking me in this cave, your majesty?”

Thorin pulls back, raising his eyebrow at her, “You fucked four different dwarrows tonight, and you want to go again?”

“I haven’t had a king…” She murmurs, dancing her lips against his own. He groans, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

Kaia wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as he glides his hands over her waist and hips, groping at her ass with an appreciative hum, before he grabs her thighs and lifts her up.

She squeaks as he lifts her, wrapping her legs around Thorin’s waist as he walks her back to press her against the cave wall. His lips never leave hers, biting her lower lip and causing her to yelp, giving his tongue access to her mouth.

Every moan she finds escaping her is swallowed by Thorin, who digs his fingers into her thighs as he grinds himself against her.

“Fucking a lady against a cave wall, is very unbecoming of a king.” He murmurs, dragging his teeth over her pulse point.

“Well we can save the ‘love-making’ on satin sheets for when you have your kingdom back, your grace. Right now, I need you to just be Thorin.”

“Thorin would definitely fuck a lady against a cave wall.” He chuckles, securing her weight against the stone as one of his hands lifts up to pull down her sleeve, kissing her shoulder.

“Then get to it, Oakenshield.” Kaia moans, tugging on his hair.

“As you wish, Halwûna.” Thorin groans, reaching his hands up to tug on her dress. It falls away easily, the back of it having already been destroyed by Dwalin’s hands. Thorin shifts her higher up, giving him easy access to her tits.

One of his hands remains on her thigh, the other glides over her torso, the callouses on his palms delivering delicious friction against her skin, causing her to bite her lip and drop her head back.

Kaia can feel his beard drag along her chest, his lips pressing kisses along her collarbone before delving deeper, pressing kisses to her nipples. They pebbled against the cold air, and he groaned against them. His tongue darted out, licking a long strip along her right breast.

The hand in his hair clenched, and he growled against her tit, latching onto it with his teeth.

“Fuck! Thorin!” She cries, the pain and the pleasure sending a shiver through her body.

“Quiet, girl. You don’t want the rest of them hearing us, do you?” He murmurs, before looking up into her eyes, “Do you?”

“I think this Company is far past secrets.” Kaia chuckles, breathing harshly as he continues to suck on her tit, dragging his teeth over them to illicit more noise from her.

She threads her fingers through his hair, tugging harshly every time his teeth bit down onto her, and he rewards her with a groan every time.

“It seems Fili got his love for teasing from you.” Kaia breathes out, and Thorin chuckles against her skin.

“Does it turn you on to bring up my nephews while I’m sucking your tits, ghivashel?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his rumbling voice.

“Perhaps.” Kaia says, grinding her lower body against his strong stomach, “Does that bother you?”

“No. In fact, I have half a mind to call them here to watch as I ravage you.” Thorin says, kissing her breast once more before lifting his head up to give her an evil smirk. Kaia can only groan as he pulls her down the wall, readjusting her thighs until they are wrapped around his hips.

Thorin presses a kiss to her jaw, growling slightly, “No. I think I’ll wait for another time to share you. Right now, you are mine.”

With quick, rough hands, he lifts her dress up to bunch around her waist, pressing his hips against hers to keep her upright.

“I want to see you.” Kaia murmurs, dragging her hands over his clothed torso. Thorin raises an eyebrow, seemingly unwilling to take off his tunic.

“It’s cold.” He says.

“Yeah, I realised. If you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing my dress as a belt right now.” Kaia laughs, playfully punching Thorin’s shoulder. His face breaks out into a small smile, looking over her body with loving eyes.

“That is fair, sweet girl.” Thorin says, keeping his hips pressed to hers to keep her up, whilst his hands grab at the hem of his tunic, tugging it over his head.

Kaia feels a blush creep up her neck at the sight of him. He’s covered in thick muscle underneath tanned skin, decorated with dark and silver hair, tattoos and scars. His muscles ripple as he tosses his shirt away, and she cannot resist the urge to touch him.

She drags her fingers over his chest, admiring the dark hair and the roughness of his skin. Thorin watches her as she looks him over, his expression guarded as he begins to feel self-conscious. Kaia was beautiful, soft skin and delicate imperfections which made her so real. The King Under the Mountain was riddled with memories of war, he was old and withered. What if she was disgusted by him?

“You’re beautiful.” Kaia says, softly.

Thorin blinks at her, taken aback by her compliment. But he sees only honesty in her eyes, her pupils dilated as her fingers draw circles down his stomach, gently caressing the scars littered along it. Overwhelmed by the affection displayed by the human in front of him, he kisses her gently. She sighs against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him even closer to her.

“No-one’s ever called me beautiful, Gêdel.” Thorin murmurs against her lips.

“Well get used to it.” Kaia smiles, leaning back to look into his sad, blue eyes. “I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you how beautiful you are, if you let me.”

“Only if I can repay the favour.”

They share a smile, before resuming their kiss. Their lips start gently, dancing together in an unspoken confession of adoration, getting to know each other more and more with every breath they shared.

Over time, they grew impatient. Kaia felt his hands rubbing against her hips and thighs, causing goose bumps to erupt over every inch of skin he caressed. She moaned against his mouth, demanding for more. Thorin kissed her harder, his tongue seeking her own out as their hands wandered.

“Are you sure about this, sweet one?” Thorin asks.

“Yes, I am.” Kaia whispers, biting at his jaw, “My king.”

Thorin groans, kissing her shoulder and her neck as one of his hands leaves her. Kaia can hear his belt buckle being undone, and her body thrummed with anticipation. Thorin shoved his trousers down to his thighs, gasping as the cold night air hit his cock.

The heat from both of their bodies was both stifling and not enough, the winds of the forest caressing the pairs bare skin. Kaia wrapped her arms snug around the king before her, pressing her chest to his. He hummed against her skin, one hand holding her up whilst the other moved to play with her cunt.

Kaia gasped as she felt his finger drag along her inner thigh, before reaching between her legs. His index finger caressed along her folds, feeling how wet she was for him.

“Oh, mahal…” He murmurs, his cock throbbing at the feeling of how soft and wet she was.

Pressing his finger into her, Kaia moaned and bit her lip, feeling her body shudder with the intrusion of his thick digit. He pushed into her, deep until his thumb pressed against her clit.

“Thorin…” Kaia breathed, her head hitting the wall behind her as she shifted her body, begging for more.

He obliged. A second finger joined his first, and his thumb began dragging across her clit in rough, stable motions which made her gasp. Pumping his fingers, Thorin watched Kaia’s face as her jaw went slack.

“Does that feel good, ghivashel?” He asks, knowing the answer but demanding praise. He needed to hear her tell him he was good, I needed it like a drowning man needed air.

“Yes! Thorin you feel so good! Please, please don’t stop…” Kaia pleads, her hips bucking slightly to fuck herself on his fingers.

“Good girl, ride my hand. That’s it, you look so pretty coming undone.” Thorin praises, fucking her faster on his fingers as he feels himself grow even harder watching her expressions.

Her face twists beautifully, eyes fluttering closed as her chest heaved. Unable to resist, Thorin lowers his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She moans, grabbing onto his hair to keep him in place.

“I’m gonna…” Kaia murmurs, rocking her hips against Thorin’s hand.

“Are you going to cum, ‘arsûna?” Thorin asks, kissing along her breast as he flicks her clit harder, “Are you going to reward your king by cumming all over his hand?”

“Yes! Yes!” Kaia gasps out, feeling her peak nearing.

“Do you deserve to finish to soon?” Thorin chides, “Have you earned it?”

“Please, Thorin!” She begs, feeling her legs shake as she gets closer. But Thorin’s hand stops.

“Please, what?” He asks, his voice low as he talks against her skin, looking up at her with fierce eyes.

“Please, my king!” Kaia practically screams, her body thrumming on the precipice.

“Good girl.” He says, biting down onto her tit as three of his fingers enter her, fucking into her fast and hard, his thumb rubbing her clit with renewed ferocity.

Kaia chokes out a sob, her scream getting caught in her throat as she cums. Stars and flashes of lightning erupt in front of her eyes, and her body shakes against Thorin’s own. His fingers do not cease, coaxing her through her orgasm as Thorin groans against her.

The feeling of her cunt strangling his fingers has Thorin’s cock pulsing, begging for the warmth her cunt provides. He needed her, but he held back as he felt her slump against him.

“Are you alright, ‘Ibinê?” He asks, his voice raspy as he feels the blood pumping through his shaft.

“I am, sweet king.” Kaia murmurs above him, running her hands through his hair, causing him to sigh contentedly, “Are you going to fuck me or are you waiting for something?”

Kaia chuckles above him, and Thorin presses another kiss to her chest, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says, his voice gentle.

“I’ve fucked four dwarrows and came a dozen times tonight, Thorin. Nê akhshum.” Kaia says, her voice soft. Thorin looks up at her, surprised by her use of Khuzdul. Kaia shrugs, “Balin has been teaching me, Bifur too.”

“Oh, why?” Thorin asks, kissing her jaw.

“He said there would be need for it, eventually.” Kaia smiles, “I don’t know if he meant this, though.”

“He knows more than the rest of us, Halw Kurdu.” Thorin chuckles, kissing her cheek, then her nose. “Are you ready for…” Thorin clears his throat, suddenly nervous.

“Your cock?” Kaia asks, smiling at Thorin swallows thickly, “Yes, I’m ready, my king.”

“If you keep calling me that, this will not last long.”

“Do not sell yourself short, Thorin, it appears dwarrow stamina is very impressive.”

Thorin grins at her, kssing her hard as he lifts her up slightly. Kaia gasps as she can feel his length pressed against her. He’s huge and thick, and throbbing. Thorin releases his own groan at the feel of her heat beneath him, and the two take a second to breathe before, Thorin pushes into her.

The tip of him is enough to make Kaia’s head spin. She bites her lip at the feeling of him stretching her, the all too familiar sensation of penetration a welcome sting after tonight.

Thorin, however, feels as though he is about to burst. Her tight heat envelopes him hot and wet and oh so tight. His mind blanks as he pushes forwards, the sound of his own heart, his lovers breathing and the wet noises of their coupling like music to his ears.

“Mahal… you feel… gods, Kaia…” Thorin can barely get out the words as he sinks deeper, his mouth hanging open as he stares into her eyes, loving the look inside of them as he slowly pushes all the way into her.

“Thorin… my king…” Kaia murmurs, her hands on his shoulders as he presses his hips to her, causing her eyes to roll back into her head. “So… big, fuck….”

“I need to… please, Kaia, can I move…?” Thorin begs, surprising himself with how breathy and eager he sounds. His mind is clouded, the only thing he can feel is the tight space between her legs and the softness of her skin underneath his fingers.

“Move, Thorin. Fuck me hard, please…” Kaia commands, her words disappearing into a high pitched whine as he quickly pulls back and thrusts back into her.

His pace is rough, hard and sloppy. Gone are his worries and his desire to remain kingly, now all he wants is to fuck her fast and hard, claiming her cunt. Every time he pulls his inches out, her cunt tries to pull him back, and he is more than happy to oblige, surging forward hard enough to cause them both to let out a strangled gasp.

Kaia keeps one hand on his shoulder as the other disappears between them, rubbing against her clit and feeling where his cock enters her. The feeling of her nails dragging along his length makes Thorin wince, but the slight pain just brings him closer.

Thorin fucks her wildly, his cock never leaving her for a second as he pumps himself in her, his balls slapping against her as his tip snaps against her cervix. Kaia feels as though she could die on his dick, the air leaving her every time his body shoves against hers. Her hips feel bruised, her tits rubbed raw against the hairs on his chest, and the beautiful sensation of his kingly cock fucking her hard enough to carve it’s shape into her cunt.

Another orgasm is fast approaching, and Kaia can only grip onto him with one arm as the other continues to rub her clit. Thorin shakes and shudders against her, panting as he uses all of his energy to pound into her. His forehead is covered in sweat, and he drops it against her shoulder as he gets lost in the feeling.

Thorin presses her thigh up higher, getting better access to her cunt. After a few more sharp thrusts, Kaia screams as her orgasm crashes over her. Her cunt strangles his cock, causing Thorin to gasp and murmur out Khuzdul, his eyes rolling back. His hips do not stop, desperately fucking her through her orgasm.

“Thorin! Please, let me go, I can’t-!” Kaia pleads, her orgasm subsiding and the brutal pace of his hips making her squirm with overstimulation.

It takes great effort, but Thorin releases her, and she slides out from him. Thorin feels as though he might die if he does not finish, but he would never keep going when she tells him to stop.

Kaia looks down at his cock, glistening and red, and drops to her knees. Thorin opens his mouth to tell her not to, but the second she wraps her lips around him, his protest dies in his throat.

She wastes no time in taking him into her mouth, pushing her head down as far as she can go. He’s so thick and long, and when he hits the back of her throat he’s barely halfway in. Kaia swallows around him, hearing him gasp and groan as one of his hands wraps around her hair. She removes her mouth for a second to drag her tongue along the underside of him, before wrapping her lips around him once more.

Her hands aid her efforts, pumping up and down the rest of his shaft in circular, up and down motions. That and the suction she applies to the top of him, has Thorin almost collapsing on top of her. Kaia looks up, watching as he leans over her, his forearm resting on the stone wall while the other grasps onto her skull.

Thorin’s eyes stare down at her, half-lidded and full of desire as she bobs her head along his shaft. The King Under the Mountain tries to keep himself from fucking her face, his hips stuttering and his hand flinching with the effort to not move her head the way he wants her to.

Kaia can see his internal battle, and she releases him from her mouth, pumping him with her hands as she looks into his eyes, “Fuck my face, my King.”

Thorin groans, spluttering slightly at her words, before the hand in her hair tightens and pushes her back to his shaft. Kaia eagerly opens her mouth, accepting his appendage when it glides through her lips.

All restraint is gone from Thorin now, he’s too close and too desperate to feel her mouth around him. He begins thrusting into her face, forcing his length further and further down her throat until she is gagging around him. Kaia does not protest, nor does she try to move. She keeps her throat as open as she can, taking deep breaths through her nose as the King vigorously fucks her.

It's so erotic, her eyes flitting up to watch the normally composed King under the Mountain as he becomes a writhing beast above her. One of her hands leaves his shaft, going south to her clit, and she begins grinding on it, the vibrations from Thorin fucking her face providing her with effortless friction that makes her body spasm with pleasure.

Thorin is a mess of sweat and groans above her, his eyes rolling back even though he tries his hardest to watch the scene below him. She is truly the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and watching as she takes almost all of him down her throat and pumps him with her hand makes his chest feel as though it will collapse.

His balls are tightening below him, and he can feel himself getting close. The arm pressed against the wall is the only thing anchoring him from falling into a void of ecstasy, and he presses his forehead against it to try to keep his breaths even,

Kaia can feel him getting close. The hand in her hair grips even harsher, providing an almost painful sensation. His thrusts are getting sloppier and harder, and Kaia feels herself gagging almost constantly.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Thorin’s mouth is releasing a string of gibberish, moans and words of praise, she would find the gagging embarrassing, but the sensation of it is heaven for Thorin Oakenshield.

She rides her hand with more fervour, feeling herself getting closer as the dwarf above her begins stuttering out begs and pleadings.

“Oh, my sweet girl, make me cum, please… you feel so good, abnâmul, mahal maharuma, you’re going to make me cum… fuck!” He gasps out, on the edge of cumming down her throat.

Kaia wants to feel his spend in her mouth, needs it to finish herself, so she moves her hand from his cock, bringing it down to grab onto his balls.

Thorin bellows, thrusting his cock down her throat as far as it can go as he finishes. His cum comes out in hot spurts down her throat and across her tongue. The sensation of it and the sound of Thorin’s groans makes Kaia orgasm, her fingers pruning with the wetness of herself.

Thorin pulls himself out of her mouth, uttering a small apology for finishing in her mouth. But Kaia simply smiles at him, swallowing down what he gave her and wiping her mouth. He takes another breath, before pulling her up and wrapping his arms around her, his face in her neck.

They stay like that for a few moments, leaning against the wall for stability as they caress each other, soothing one another gently. Thorin murmurs against her skin, words she can barely hear and understand, but his tone makes her feel warm and safe. She kisses his jaw, nuzzling against the roughness of his beard.

“We should probably go back. They’ll be wondering where we got off to.” Kaia murmurs, and Thorin lifts his head to give her a dazed look.

“You’re right.” He says, reaching down to pull his trousers back up. The two begin pulling their clothes back into place. A rustling sound catches their attention, and Thorin sighs.

“Bofur get out of those fucking bushes!” Thorin bellows, and Kaia looks around as a hat pops out from one of the nearby shrubs.

Bofur looks over at them, wide eyed and red faced, clearing his throat.

“Apologies, Thorin! Was just wondering what was going on!” He calls.

“You were wondering ten minutes ago, you dolt!” Thorin sighs, buckling up his trousers.

“Enjoy the show, sweet dwarf?” Kaia asks, chuckling to herself.

“Very much, lass. I’m also very glad Thorin and you are on the same page!” Bofur laughs, trying to conspicuously fix his clothing.

“Were you touching yourself, Bofur?” Kaia tuts, and Bofur flushes red again.

“If I catch you watching us again, I’ll tie you up so you can only watch and not reach any kind of satisfaction. Understood?” Thorin says, his voice back to its commanding lilt.

“Heard loud and clear!” Bofur salutes, winking at Kaia as he runs off back to the camp. Kaia laughs, and Thorin gives her an exacerbated look. “You’re going to have to get used to that, darling. You’re sharing with four other dwarrows.”

“I’m well aware.” Thorin says, kissing Kaia on the forehead. “But we’re really going to have to have a conversation about boundaries.”

“Sure, my king.” Kaia teases, and Thorin growls before he dives in for another kiss.

-

Woo, final smut chapter done! There will be an epilogue chapter next, just to conclude it all!

BUT, because so many people enjoyed this fanfic on AO3, I'll be making a few one-shots continuing on with this story! So look out for those!

Translations <3

Gêdel – Joy of all joys

‘arsûna – hot one

‘Ibinê – my gem

Nê akhshum – Don’t Worry

Halw Kurdu – Sweet Heart

[sotwk]

The Task of Living (Thorin x unnamed OC)

Love Confession feat. Thorin Oakenshield 

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: Two years after his triumphant reclamation of Erebor, Thorin returns to his former village in Dunland, seeking the woman he has loved since long ago.

Prompt: “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

Requested by and Dedicated to: @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady. Thank you for the request, the follow, and for letting me do a little something to help you feel better! This definitely turned out longer and more detailed than I had planned, so I hope it brings you some joy and comfort! <3

Word count: 2.4 k

Content: Romance, angst, drama, fierce dwarf-maiden, Everybody Lives AU, post-BotFA, King Thorin

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The Task of Living

Third Age 2943

Dunland

“Is she… is she yours?” 

You smoothed a hand over the unbraided chestnut curls of the dwarf-child on your lap and shook your head. "My sister's. You probably don’t remember her."

His coal-black eyebrows knitted together, but only for a second. "Rith," he spoke her name with a triumphant little smirk that made you itch with a desire to smack it off his face. He set down his tankard of mulled ale on the table and leaned forward, the rickety old chair creaking underneath this small movement. “And how is she?”

“She is dead,” you said flatly, enjoying the flinch that wrinkled his perfect features. “Killed in an orc raid on the village six years ago, she and her husband both.” You gave your niece a quick hug and set her down, patting her lightly on the back. “Why don’t you go and help your Grandmother with the stew?”

“She needn’t have bothered, truly.” His keen blue eyes scanned the single-room cottage that presently housed three women across three generations. Although his gaze seemed mostly curious, his interest suddenly made you feel embarrassed about the dwelling’s small size and worn-out shabbiness.

“Of course she had to,” you hissed, rising abruptly from your chair. “What else are we expected to do when a king shows up at our doorstep, with no forewarning, but to scramble to pay respects and offer up what little provisions we have?” 

Thorin rose to his feet, slowly, as though a dreadful weight burdened his stooped shoulders. Still, he towered over you, his regal demeanor undeniable despite his obvious attempts to dress in simple garb, with no raiment upon him other than the ancestral crown on his head. 

“A caravan is on its way here,” he said. “Two dozen wagons loaded with enough food and supplies for a year. Enough for this whole village and its neighbors. It should arrive in a few days. The cargoes are heavy and the roads are troublesome. I decided to ride ahead with my guard because…” He faltered, but took a breath and pressed on. “...because I could not wait to see you.”

Oh no. You backed up a step, subconsciously resisting the allure of his presence, the implication of his words. Before you could turn away, he spoke again, “Perhaps we might move this conversation outside. There is still light out; we can take a short walk.”

Perhaps it would be easier to breathe and keep a clear head outdoors with all the fresh air. As you exited the cottage, you felt Thorin’s hand cup lightly around your elbow, in a courteous gesture to help you down the steps. You jerked your arm away, irritated by the silly nicety reserved for soft, high-society ladies who likely kept his company now.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted several armored soldiers by the sheep pen, tending to their ponies. You marched on in the direction of the little brook that bordered your property, determinedly and defiantly, leaving Thorin to hasten his steps to keep up.

“If I may say so, you look well--” 

You stopped and spun around without warning. "Why are you here, Thorin?” You grimaced and corrected yourself. “Pardon me. Why are you here, your Majesty?”

“Thorin,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You need not be so formal with me, not after so many years of friendship between us.”

Friendship. That word could not have burned you worse than a glowing hot iron straight out of the furnace. And suddenly it was thirty-five years ago, when you stood before each other in similar surroundings all the way in the shadows of the Blue Mountains, and Thorin told you with utmost conviction, that he could not accept your marriage proposal. 

And you exploded. All the grief and pain and anger that you had shored up behind a wall inside your heart flowed like fiery lava on the slopes of an awakened volcano. 

“Are you trying to hurt me?!” you cried. “Is that why you have come? Now that you have accomplished your great destiny to regain your throne, you thought it might amuse you to return to your former haunts and toy with the commoners you used to dwell amongst? Are you already so weary and bored of counting all the gold in the great Kingdom Under the Mountain?”

Thorin squared his shoulders and set his jaw against the accusations, incorrigibly stubborn as you had always known him to be. “I came to help. Both you and your kin.” He gestured at the house behind them, and the others beyond. “This land was also my home once.”

“It has not been your home for a very long time, Thorin.” You wrapped your arms across your chest, whether to shield yourself from the winter chill or from the dwarf who had shattered you irreparably, you weren’t certain. “Allow me to refresh the King’s memory since it has been so long: you abandoned it for the Blue Mountains. I was there. I left my own family and moved across Eriador to follow yours. But a humble life at the Lune would not satisfy you either, and you refused to settle and put down roots.”

At least not with me. You swiped at the corners of your eyes, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop their descent. "You should not have come back here. We will manage well enough without Erebor's charity."

The old Thorin might have exchanged your rejection with biting words of his own; such was the pride that ran through the Durins' veins. But the face of the dwarf-lord before you softened as he continued.

"I came for you. To tell you I have not forgotten everything we shared together." The tone of his voice had changed; it cracked with desperation, pleading with you to accept his declarations. And then he uttered your name, and hearing it on his lips roused an ache inside you that was too much to bear. 

You started walking again, stomping over the thick snow, following the line of naked trees along the frozen brook. He kept up with you in determined strides, raising his voice to a near shout as his passion grew.

"I have thought of you every day since we parted. Every memory I had of you, I kept close, even though it burned me as often as it kept me warm, because I refused to surrender hope that this day would come for us."

You shook your head wildly and pressed your hands over your ears, as though these gestures would be enough to make him stop. 

“Amrâlimê, please...”

"Do. NOT. Call me that!"

You whirled around and punched him, slamming your fist into his chest, stopped by a wall of thick leather and muscle. While you considered yourself strong for your race, your strength fell short against a Durin. Thorin did not budge an inch, or even wince. Perhaps your predictable temper was the part of you least easily forgotten. So you hit him again. And again. Until you were pounding both fists repeatedly against his torso, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you thought you could get him to feel just a small fraction of the agony he had put you through for over thirty years. Still Thorin refused to move or throw up any kind of self-defense. 

How dare he! How dare he address you as such, in the tender manner that haunted you for decades even after you left the Blue Mountains to escape the unbearable sight of him. The precious endearment he would whisper into your ear on occasions of stolen intimacy, sigh into your hair in moments of peaceful contentment, moan against your skin whenever he made love to you.

Through your rage, you sensed the guards approaching to rescue their lord, and instinct prepared you to turn around and fight back like a cornered animal. But Thorin raised his hand at them in a signal to halt, and he finally reached out to catch your flailing wrists, easily ending your assault.

"I love you. As Mahal is my witness, my heart has ever belonged to you alone." He encased your hands tightly within his and held them against his chest, tugging you to him. "And you love me still, I can see it, however wretchedly undeserving I am."

You could not even think of struggling. It was too late. He was too close now, close enough for you to feel how real he was--his piercing eyes, his strong, calloused hands, the scent of smoke and steel that clung to the very hairs of his warm skin. These were not just a fantasy conjured by delirious longing, or a dream from the nights you cried in your sleep. Thorin was here. Alive and well, and here. 

“I am truly sorry for all the pain I have caused you. Forgive me, Amrâlimê,” he murmured hoarsely, tracing the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, sweeping down the softness of your jaw. “If I can have nothing else from you, I beg you to grant me that last kindness.”

That single moment of exposed vulnerability, of breathtaking sorrow and regret that radiated from him, reached you more than any of his expressions of passion. How much have the years changed him? The Thorin you knew could never bear to admit he was wrong about anything. Was it possible that rising to his kingship finally taught him humility? 

“You have my forgiveness.” As you spoke this pardon, the remaining flames of your anger blew out to nothingness.

And Thorin smiled, his sweet, gentle smile, rare as the most precious gem but many times as beautiful. Your own smile felt like it would break your cheeks. He pulled you into his embrace and you sobbed into his neck, wondering if it was possible to die of happiness. 

Drawing back, Thorin cradled your face between his hands, smoothing your tear-streaked cheeks, and rested his forehead on yours. “May I…?” Your breaths mingled in the soft whisper, and his eager lips already brushed yours even as he waited for permission.

"I may only ever kiss My One, whom they call Oakenshield," you said softly. "Where can I find him under the fine trappings of this great King?"

In response, Thorin gripped the heavy golden crown on his head and lifted it off. It slipped carelessly from his fingers and fell to the snow-covered ground with a dull thud. 

"Let me show you," he said, and waited no more. He kissed you with the hunger of years of longing, deeply and greedily, pausing only when you whimpered for breath you could not catch. He backed you up underneath a tree, which you leaned against to aid your weakening balance as Thorin pressed on, his mouth leaving your swollen lips only to descend your neck, worshiping every inch of skin he could access.

"Durin help me," he growled into the curve of your shoulder, exposed where he had nearly torn your sleeve off. His chest still heaved from exertion and barely restrained lust. "I must have you again." He raised his eyes to meet yours, and the look in them made you swallow hard, conscious of your own depraved desire for him. "But it should be in the proper way you deserve."

"You are the only one I would ever have," you said, combing your fingers through a section of his thick black hair, now beautifully mixed with silver stands. 

He took your hand to his lips, kissing your palm repeatedly before saying, "So would you return to Erebor with me?"

Your hesitation made him wrap both arms tightly around you, his entire body tense with the lingering fear of being separated from you again.

"You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you."

"Do what?" you asked, caressing his beard to calm the anxiety you regretted causing him. "What task is it that the great hero of Erebor needs a humble peasant's help in accomplishing?"

"The task of living." Thorin cupped his hand underneath your chin and gazed at you with soft, earnest affection. "A life with you was the only treasure I ever desired, but duty forced me to deprive myself of it. But no longer. I have avenged my family and restored our honor and our house. I have led our people back home. The time has come for me to pursue my own joys and pleasures, and those exist only in you."

"But my lord. My love," you whispered, once again moved to tears by the gladness his words roused in you. "Am I still a suitable match for you now that you require a consort to rule a kingdom by your side? I am not fit for the legendary grandeur of Erebor." You gestured at your attire, from your unadorned hair, your plain brown wool dress with a patched up skirt and worn, dirt-caked boots. "Just look at me."

"Indeed. I look at you with great pleasure," Thorin said, with a smirk that immediately made you blush. "When I look at you, I see my dreams fulfilled. I cannot imagine providing Erebor with a braver, kinder, wiser, or more radiant Queen."

"If you would still have me, that is." He held out his open palm to you, revealing an item he produced from the folds of his robe. Fading sunlight bounced off the high polish of the small, silvery-grey stone. You gasped when you recognized the betrothal bead you had offered him so many years ago. He must have rescued it after you had flung it away in your heartbroken grief, and kept it safe with him all this time. 

"I fought through dragonfire and armies of orcs so I may live to see this day, so I may get a second chance to accept and wear this." Hope and fear battled in his intense stare, which bore down on you with heavy anticipation. "But now the course of my fate rests entirely upon you. Will you have me?"

He held his breath in the brief silence before you closed his fist around the bead and smiled. "I will have you for the rest of my life and whatever else lies beyond, Thorin Oakenshield." You placed a tender kiss on his knuckles. "So let us go home and see to this task of living… my King."

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[pistachiozombie]

[The Hobbit] Dynamic Scene Commission for @sverdgeir - Thorin Oakenshield and OC, Nathália ♥ (Put this one thru Nightshade to test it)

Shares appreciated please ♡

~ SpeedPaint Below~

[afteriwake]

Art For "There and Never Going Back Again" by TitaniaFaerieQueen

Art Title: Art for "There and Never Going Back Again" Fandom: The Hobbit Warnings: None Bragging Rights: This is a Thorin/OFC fic, and the original character, Amy, arrives naked in Middle Earth. So my author picked out an OC I could use for art and one of the pics had her bare to the shoulders, so that was the perfect fic. I used the same texture for making frames for the character pictures and the chapter headers, I just turned it on the side. I really like how all of these turned out.

[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 💙💙💙

-*-*-*-

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

-*-*-*-

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5...

✨ Entangled Masterlist

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

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.

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

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5...

✨ Entangled Masterlist

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[koyunsoncizeri]

Here is the art for the lovely fic by @asgardianhobbit98 😭♥️♥️

This was my first event ever since being here and I LOVED it 😭😭♥️ I'm so glad I could pick your fic darling i was in love 😭♥️ im already a sucker for thorin x human!female!reader and your fic was delicious aahh!!!

[chizu-makes-art]

Those damn bees are pretty cute

done as commission, female character named Luanne, in place of Bilbo

[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Ten

A/N: I only realized with this installment that I've been working from a tag list that was missing quite a few names. I apologize for the mistake. 💜

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

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

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

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Read On AO3

The doors to Mirkwood’s Throne Room were closed as Eirlys and Madris approached them and Eirlys was fairly certain she’d never heard the kind of silence that infiltrated the palace corridors. It was an odd silence, for she heard the click of her heels on the stone and wood floor, the soft swish of her skirts, and she even heard a softer-still swish of her tulle veil against her shoulders.

What she didn't hear, though, was the sounds of her fellow elves, of the too-numerous-to-count guests—both important and ordinary—who were no doubt seated just beyond those closed doors, awaiting her arrival. She knew there were too many to count, as she’d seen the literal stacks of heavy, creamy envelopes to be sent out several weeks earlier. She wasn't certain, but thought it quite possible everyone in all of Middle Earth had been invited to see the wedding of Princess Eirlys of Mirkwood and King Thorin II of Erebor.

Her stomach hurt.

Who knew butterflies could have such powerful wings?

Her blood roared through her temples, her mouth drier with each step. Her heart sped up, and beat with such force, she glanced sideways at Madris to see if she heard it as well. If she did, however, Madris gave no indication. Instead, she smiled as they reached the doors. 

“Are you ready, Your Highness?”

“I’m not so certain I’ll ever be ready,” Eirlys managed to whisper, her throat so dry, it hurt when she swallowed.

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

That made Eirlys smile. “If I say no, will it stop you?”

Her maid smiled back, shaking her head. “No.”

“Go on.”

“You’ve no need to be nervous. He seems a good and decent man, even if he is a dwarf, and I think you should focus instead on how you will be permitted to kiss him as often as you wish and whenever you wish. And you will even be allowed to enjoy doing so.”

“Madris!” Eirlys couldn't hold back her laughter, the flowers in her bouquet rustling as she gave into it. “That’s terrible.”

“It is not at all terrible.” Madris’ expression grew serious and she reached out to curve her hands against Eirlys’ bare shoulders, her palms warm and comforting. “And you need not be afraid, either. In time, I think you will both be very happy.”

“I hope so.”

“You will be.”

“Madris, you don’t know that.”

“No,” she stepped back, shaking her head, “I don't know that for certain. But I feel it. Now, go. I will see you later, to ready you for bed.”

Eirlys swallowed hard, but nodded just the same. “Of course.”

“You will be fine.”

“I have no choice.”

Madris leaned in and lightly kissed her on the cheek. “He’s waiting for you.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Eirlys nodded and stepped back. “I know.”

Madris offered up a maternal smile and a wink and then she was gone, leaving Eirlys there alone, staring at the closed doors. 

“Ahh… there you are.” Thranduíl swept toward them, regal and elegant in his finery of gold and green, his usual crown of branches replaced by one of gold and adorned with topaz and emerald and garnets that all sparkled in the brilliant sunlight that spilled down through the canopy high over their heads.

“You say that as if you thought I wouldn’t be,”she replied with a smile.

“You are quite resourceful when faced with something you might not want to do.”

“Papa, when did I say I did not wish to do this?”

He offered her a long look. “Eirlys.”

“Very well, at first, perhaps I wasn't mad about the idea,” she told him, “but, I don't feel that way any longer. I find I rather like His Highness.”

“Good. I feel better about sending you away then.”

He joked, of course, but she gasped as if his words horrified her. “Papa!”

“I tease you, selyë.” He smiled as he bent to brush her cheek with his fingertips. “You remind me so very much of your mother, you know. She would be quite proud of you.”

Eirlys swallowed hard at his soft words. It wasn’t often she dwelled on their loss, but today was the one day she wished more than ever that her mother walked amongst them still. “I hope so.”

“She would. And I think she would approve of this match as well. She was rather fond of dwarves. Thought them loud and uncouth at times, but also loyal to a fault and protective of their women. And Thorin had best be protective of you.”

She had no way of knowing whether or not he would be, but she still nodded. “I think he will be, Papa. He seems a good man.”

“I would accept no less for you.” He offered his arm. “Now, if you are ready?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, but when strains of music wafted from the Throne Room, which sent a sense of urgency through her. She could still run. Could turn and dash back to her chambers, run out to the stables, steal one of her father’s horses, and take off. Her father would be hot on her heels of course, but she but she might have just enough time to lose herself somewhere in the forest around her.

But then what? What purpose would that serve? 

Besides, she did want to kiss Thorin again.

So, with that in mind, she drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said, “I am, Papa.”

“Very well.” Thranduíl covered her hand with his, then bobbed his head at the two stoic pages on either side of the doorway. With that bob, they moved, their expressions solemn as they each grasped a door handle and tugged, allowing the doors to swing open without a sound. 

Eirlys was a vision in gold as she swept down a long, wide aisle toward him on her father’s arm. As he stood there, Thorin could not take his eyes from her, nor could he decide if she was real or if she was some ethereal figment of his imagination, for not in his wildest dreams did he ever think his bride would leave him struck dumb at the sight of her.

He swallowed hard when Thranduíl lifted Eirlys’ hand from his arm to set it in Thorin’s open hand and murmured, “You’d best keep your word, Thorin, and take the best of care with my daughter.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “I fully intend to do just that. You need not worry about her in the slightest.”

“Good. Then I entrust her to you. Do not make me regret doing so.”

With that, Thranduíl stepped back and the world consisted of only Thorin and Eirlys and he couldn’t help how he stared at her, for she stole the breath from his lungs. 

The ceremony itself was a mere blur to him as she reached him, slipped her arm through his, and it seemed only moments later, he leaned in to kiss his new wife.

Her lips pursed in anticipation of his kiss and as his met them, his toes actually curled in his heavy boots. Her lips were so very soft—softer than anything he’d ever felt before—and warm and her kiss filled him at once with a sweet fire that had him wanting to part his lips and give into the urge to gently explore the silky heat of her mouth.

She drew back slowly, before he could do just that, and as he met her gaze, he smiled and to his surprise, she smiled back. Her eyes, a lighter shade of blue than his own, sparkled as she murmured, “They’re all watching us, aren’t they?”

He couldn't help his chuckle as he glanced sidelong at the multitude of wedding guests all staring at them as if waiting for something else to happen. “I do believe so, yes.”

“Kiss me again and see what they do.”

He met her gaze. “Are you serious?”

She didn't reply, but shifted her bouquet to one hand, leaned into him, and slid her free hand about his neck. Her fingers tightened against him, pulled him to meet her kiss and as he did, the crowd gathered simply disappeared, for when their lips met, he lost himself in her kiss. Sweet and innocent at first, it quickly deepened, her lips parting, her tongue delving between his lips to caress his, just as he’d imagined doing only moments ago. He’d let his hands rest on her hips, but as her kiss deepened, he eased his arms about her waist, drew her up against him. 

As he reluctantly drew back and broke the kiss, he became aware of the laughter rippling through the guests. Eirlys’ cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with hints of mischief as she said, “That’s what they waited for.”

“I’m glad we didn't disappoint them.”

“We should acknowledge them.”

“Or we could just kiss again.”

The flush in her cheeks deepened, but her smile widened. “There will be time for that later.”

He knew she only teased, but that didn't stop a flash of heat from shooting through him. Still, they had a long day before them and it would be some time before they would be alone. From the ceremony, they would make their way into the Great Hall for the celebration that was to follow. 

Eirlys tucked her arm through his, her smile never wavering as she did, and he found that smile sent a warm flutter through him. Covering her hand with his, he said, “We probably should acknowledge them.”

She nodded, her eyes dancing further as she replied, “Although, I would much rather kiss again.”

“As would I. But, I’m glad you think so as well.”

Her hand tightened on his arm as they both turned toward their guests, who erupted into cheers and applause. Eirlys’ hand was warm beneath his, and when he squeezed her hand, she squeezed his arm in return, which sent more heat swirling through him. 

They made their way up along the white runner that led back to the Throne Room doors, where they were ushered by the pages to the Great Hall, where the grand reception was to take place. 

Although dwarves were fond of their celebrations and certainly knew how to host a party, the woodland elves put them all to shame. Ale and sparkling wine flowed, the music was lively, the food sumptuous and rich, and the company some of the best he’d ever kept.

A million tiny fairy lights bathed the Great Hall in soft, white light and the tables were draped with creamy ivory linens embroidered with green and gold thread, and set with the finest of elven silver and crystal. The scent of wildflowers perfumes the air and the gentle, silvery whisper of harps reached their ears.

The evening was a whirlwind of dancing and music, of wine and laughter, and Thorin couldn’t seem to let Eirlys wander far from his reach. In fact, he spent most of the reception with her in his arms on the dance floor or with her hand resting in his as they greeted and chatted with guests from near and far.

It was far into the night, very nearly morning, before the party broke up and Eirlys’ maid came up to catch her by the hand. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” she said to him with a hint of a smile, “but I’ve come to help ready Her Majesty for bed. Also, His Majesty has already taken the liberty of moving your belongings into her chambers.”

He smiled. “Of course. I expected as much.”

Eirlys turned to him. “I didn't think you would mind. I imagine my chambers are larger than the ones you’ve been given.”

He bobbed his head. “I’ll wager you are correct. I mean, mine suffice, of course—”

She burst out laughing. “I’ll not tell my father you found your chambers lacking.”

“I did not say—”

“I am but teasing you,” she interrupted softly before leaning in to brush her lips across his cheek. “Go and enjoy yourself.”

“I won’t be long,” he replied.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

She didn't give him a chance to answer, before her maid tugged on her arm and drew her down the corridor, while Thranduíl came up behind him and said, “Thorin, come and take a drink with me. There is a matter I wish to speak with you about.”

He turned toward his new father-in-law, who seemed no worse for the wear despite how easily the sparkling wine flowed. In fact, Thranduíl even smiled as he added, “It’s nothing terrible. I promise you this.”

Although he’d much rather have followed his new bride, Thorin managed to smile back. “Of course.”

“Good.” Thranduíl gestured to a table nearest the bar. “Join me, then. It won’t take long.”

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[doodleferp]

It was at that moment Thorin, Son of Thráin, realized that he was in trouble in every sense of the word