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asgardianhobbit98 · 7 months ago

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Of Kings, Crowns and Love (Thorin Spring Forge 2024 Entry)

accompanying art piece by @koyunsoncizeri here!! 😭🩷🩷🩷 it's gorgeous!

Summary: Thorin hears of Rohan’s king’s death, and how his son, moving back home from Gondor, is about to be crowned the new king of Rohan. Normally, Dwarves keep themselves out of the business of men. But something is stirring in the North, something dark and evil that seems to be connected to Gundabad and the fell lands of the East... and having some extra allies is not bad (as he’s learned on his quest to retake Erebor).

The King under the Mountain officially invites himself to the crowning of King Thengel, where he meets not just Thengel and a mysterious man called Thorongil, but also the new king’s sisters. Falling head over heels for the oldest of the two sisters, Thorin finds himself no longer on just a political mission, but also one of love.

Fandom: The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield / original female character

Tags: everybody lives AU, Dragon Sickness, PTSD, First Love, Courting, First Kiss, Romance, Love Letters, Baking

Word Count: around 9157

Notes: I want to thank the lovely moderators from @thorinsspringforge for this event and the support they offered us all! This was so much fun :3

I also want to give a HUGE shoutout to my artist @koyunsoncizeri who created something so so beautiful (please go check out their art piece for this fic and reblog and give it love!!), which helped inspire me to keep writing when I struggled!! Their talent and kindness knows no bounds! Thank you love 🩷

AO3 link to the TSF24 collection

AO3 link to my entry but you can also read the full thing in this post

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane

Part 1: The Coronation, Interrupted

Flower petals moved through the air like a gorgeous spring rain. Puddles of colours lay on the floor already. The people must have picked clean huge fields of flowers just for this very occasion, the newly ascended King thought to himself as he stared out over the sea of colours and smiles.

They would do such a thing too, for him. For today was a joyous and important day in the Kingdom of Rohan. Their wayward and lost prince, Thengel, had returned to take over the crown since his father’s passing. There were, in other words, not just one thing to celebrate, but two.

The crown, heavier than it looked both with burden and physical weight, rested atop his long, golden hair whilst he smiled at unknown faces that saw not him, but his father; who clapped not for him, but for their own relief at no longer being without king; who were happy not for his return, but for their own leadership not disappearing with the life of their previous king.

The colours, the beautiful sight of the petals, was all loathsome to Thengel. He had had a nice life in Gondor. Why, oh why, did his father have to die so soon? He’d hoped to die in some battle before him. But here he was, forced to take the crown because his annoying brothers had skipped town the second they heard their father was on his deathbed.

No one wanted this bloody crown, heavy as it was in so many ways… No one but potentially the faces smiling back at him now. He knew no one. He trusted even fewer people.

Aside from… Morwen. His beautiful wife, stood next to him bearing an equally as heavy crown. Yet, she seemed to carry it with ease. Her beauty, her love, her kindness… They, Thengel thought to himself, were going to be what ruled Rohan. And Morwen, his dear beloved darling, would do it too, even if she would rather spend her time with their children: Theoden and Theodis.

Just as they were going to sit down and start the feast and be one step closer to ending this dreadful day, the large doors to the hall opened. A wind gushed through the place, forcing the petals to blow away from the feasts, some falling into the large beacons of fire to shrivel into ash…

A silence fell over the hall, every gaze turned toward the doors now wide open...

Dwarves.

Uninvited Dwarves. Six of them too!

Slowly, the leader, the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, slayer of Smaug the Terrible, and defeater of Azog the Defiler, moved through the hall and up toward the thrones. He avoided all gazes sent his way, walking with intent, determined steps, and with a look on his face that was anything but kind, at least in the eyes of the humans.

“I thought Dwarves were meant to have longer beards-“ With a quick, reprimanding tug at her nephew’s shirt, Maerwyn silenced Theoden’s whispers which were far too loud to be called whispers in all honesty. She stood together with her niece and nephew to the side of the thrones, watching everything play out from the sidelines, yet with equal curiosity as Morwen and Thengel.

Maerwyn, sister to Thengel and born with the same beauty and blonde hair, had been in Gondor with her brother almost her entire life. She mourned her father quite little, having never known him. Thengel was more her father than anyone else.

Thorongil, their mutual, closest friend, stood to her side too, looking amused by Theoden’s words. As a friend and not Theoden’s family, the ranger didn’t have to reprimand the child. So he winked at Theoden, rendering Maerwyn reprimand useless, of course.

Theodis, at an age now that her mischievous brother embarrassed her as she wanted to be as graceful and grown up as her mother, glared at Theoden.

Once the six Dwarves reached the front, they each took a bow, staying down on one knee.

“We come to pay our respects to the new King of Rohan,” Thorin spoke. He, crownless as he was (and rumor had it he never wore his crown either), had a face everyone knew. He did not have to introduce himself. And he apparently wasn’t going to either.

Maerwyn glanced to Thorongil. As the older (though he didn’t look it) and wiser out of the two, she wanted to see what his reaction was to Thorin’s own invite to the occasion. He looked suspicious, but mainly surprised. Indeed, the ranger was right to be surprised. The Dwarves, as good of an ally as they could be, weren’t known to so openly approach Men for any sort of diplomatic meeting. This… well, this was certainly a surprise.

As Thorin raised his head to speak, his gaze flickered over to Maerwyn for a split second and she felt her heart do a somersault. No one had told her that the great Thorin Oakenshield was so… handsome.

“We come bearing gifts to rekindle a friendship between their people.” The Dwarves stood, upon which two younger Dwarves and one much older rounded Thorin to bow in front of the king and queen, presenting three boxes each. “Myrr from the people of Esgaroth. An embroidered Rohirrim symbol on a tapestry from the merchants of Erebor. As well as a divine set of new bracers and a dagger from the Dwarven smithies of Erebor. You could wish for no finer equipment, I can assure you,” Thorin spoke.

Morwen smiled and graciously bowed to accept the gifts.

Thengel, however… “So you have come to rekindle something ancient, indeed.” It sounded for a second as if this was his way of dismissing the Dwarves and denying a rekindling of allyship. But then: “Welcome.” And with that, Thengel sat down, with Morwen in tow, and the people in Edoras Hall continued to cheer.

The feast was grand. Tables laced with meat, mead, cakes and everything one could have hoped for had been prepared by servants for days before this, and it all looked as perfect as they’d hoped it would turn out to be. Before long, the lutes from bards filled the Golden Hall’s entire air with joyous music. People sung, danced, drank and ate to their heart’s content. It was a merry occasion once more.

The Dwarves stayed in their corner. All apart for Thorin’s nephews, who had found their way into the crowd of Men to sing and dance alongside them with ease. They’d found Theoden and Theodis, and had danced with the little children for a while before Morwen had sent them to bed. Now they were merrymaking with the adults instead.

The older Dwarves seemed less inclined to mingle or mix with the strangers. And it showed in their way of glaring and mumbling to each other each time someone had the ‘audacity’ of glancing their way or coming a little too close to their corner.

Thengel, watching his people’s merrymaking from the sidelines with a cup of untouched mead in his hand, found it only making him distrust these Dwarves’ intentions more.

“You look troubled, my friend.” Thorongil had appeared by Thengel’s side. “As new King, you should not have those frown lines on your face just yet. Leave that for your first duties.” A joke. But Thengel was far from a joking mood.

“They want something…” he muttered quietly. His gloves squeaked as he closed one hand into a fist. “I just know it. It’s just like those nobles in Gondor, Thorongil. They want things from me because I have power.”

Thorongil didn’t react at first, simply listening to the grumbling of his old friend. “Did I want something from you?”

Thengel scoffed. “No, but you are different.”

“Perhaps they are different too?”

Thengel narrowed his eyes at them, especially Thorin Oakenshield. Maybe he didn’t don his crown, but a crown he had. A whole kingdom that looked up to him and marvelled at his power. What could he possibly want from Rohan? Nothing good… It couldn’t be anything good…

Part 2: The Feast

Moving through the crowd, Maerwyn approached the Dwarves standing in their corner of the room. Her hands cupped a chalice of red wine, but it was not the reason for her seamless movement through the crowd. They parted for her, bowing respectfully. She was now no longer the daughter of the King. She was the sister of the King. Yet, that was not the reason for people to part for her so quickly and respectfully. Her importance to the kingdom had not changed. But rather, she, herself, was put on a pedestal by all who saw her, it seemed.

This, Thorin noticed as he caught sight of the woman approaching them. Her green eyes flickered between the vessel in her hands, and him, letting Thorin know her intent. Curious, he’d watched her, long since forgetting about the conversation at hand between his fellow Dwarves. Dwalin and Ori seemed oblivious to it. Balin was not, watching Thorin and Maerwyn’s looks to each other with curious dismay.

“It’s not worth it, Thorin-“ Maerwyn had interrupted a conversation as she approached, blinking innocently at Dwalin with an unsaid apology, to which the Dwarf only glared.

There was a moment in which Dwalin wanted to push forward and place himself in front of Thorin protectively, but Thorin was quick to stop that with a single hand gesture. Instead, he stepped forward to greet Maerwyn with a bow.

Maerwyn couldn’t tell whether Thorin had done so to be kind to the sister of the King Thorin clearly wanted something from, or whether Thorin truly had meant his kind greeting.

Approaching guests was unlike her. She stayed in the background, sister to great men, daughter to Kings, doomed to be of a gender that was given little space or power in the Kingdoms of Men. Yet here she was, approaching guests of the King, her brother, without a care in the world. Confidence bloomed through her body, driven on only by the pure infatuation with this one Dwarf’s attractive face, curious whether the Dwarf’s heart might be as attractive too.

“My lady..?” Thorin asked politely.

“Maerwyn,” she replied. “King Thengel’s sister.” She curtsied politely before offering the cup she was cradling in her hands.

Thorin looked confused. She smiled. He smiled. “It is an offer of kinship and generosity to share wine from the same cup.”

“And who else has drunk from this?” Thorin asked curiously, though his voice held a little edge to it.

Maerwyn blushed. “Me.”

Spurred on by this answer, it seemed, Thorin reached out and took a long sip, lips lingering on the cup as his eyes found hers… with intent. She watched with wide eyes, her blush gone but not because she was not feeling something. Rather, she was too surprised by the Dwarf’s obvious meaning to allow herself to feel anything-

Then before she could say or do anything else, Thengel’s hand suddenly touched her shoulder.

She was silently goaded to leave, and so she did, her head lowered but a smile playing on her lips.

“You seem happy.” Thorongil said as he walked with her through the crowd.

Surprised he had approached her, Maerwyn nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve never met a man with such reputation.”

“Yes, reputation,” Thorongil said with a little glint to his eyes. “I am sure his reputation was what just motivated you to act.”

She blushed.

“Be careful, my lady,” Thorongil added quickly. “He is a man who has seen much, been through even more, and whose heart is darker than it seems.”

“I see darkness,” Maerwyn was quick to say, as if defending her own choices. Though, she knew, that one needn’t defend one’s choices to Thorongil. He was kinder than most: a man who had seen much and been through more. A man who, perhaps, could understand Thorin better than most. “But I don’t only see darkness. He can get out of it.”

“Few can.”

“Indeed.” Maerwyn put the cup down and gave Thorongil a pointed look. “Sometimes, with a little help, a person can do surprisingly much.”

Thorongil bowed his head. “Just be careful. You’ve only just met.”

Thengel watched Maerwyn and Thorongil walk away for a little bit before turning his gaze to Thorin. “Few dare come uninvited to a Coronation of an unallied King.”

“Yet here I am,” Thorin replied.

“Here you are…” Thengel said, pretending to ignore the three Dwarves behind Thorin tensing up, ready to step in and help. “Might we speak in private? Outside, perhaps, on the balcony?” Before Thorin could even respond, Thengel was already leading the way through the crowds. With a look back at Balin, Dwalin and Ori, Thorin offered a disgruntled look at Thengel’s behaviour, before following the new King.

The balcony was positioned to offer a view of the vast fields that made up Rohan. Hills upon hills of green grass that had sickened into a beige colour now that autumn was here.

Far, far away, the outlines of mountains surrounded them. Helm’s Deep, Thorin recalled from his studies, was somewhere there. Among many Rohirrim dark secrets one needed to pass to get to the lands of Gondor the quickest.

Thorin had to admit that the vast openness of the lands of Men made him uncomfortable. Sometimes, Thorin thought to himself, when he stepped out of Erebor, he thought the Sky would fall down on him, or that he himself would float up toward it. It was strange not to have anything above his head.

So whilst he could understand how this was a beautiful view, he didn’t quite share in admiring it the way Thengel was.

Though, something told Thorin that Thengel was merely biding his time so he could gather his thoughts and speak his mind without… offending Thorin too much. A bitterness surrounded Thengel. No man should be too overjoyed by a crown burdening their shoulders, or they would become bad kings, but this much bitterness revealed more anger than a king should have.

“You come here�� uninvited,” Thengel began, repeating what he’d said earlier but with agitation in his voice. Thorin joined the man by the railing of the balcony, eyes only just managing to peak over at the view. He tried to stare at it to keep his mind at peace, to try and listen rather than see what Thengel was feeling. To anyone who might catch a glimpse of them, it didn’t look like there was any tension between the two. But oh… there was. “And you demand things of me.”

“Demand?” Thorin asked, astounded and surprised. “I merely wish for a fellowship between our people.”

“Fellowship… Wish…” Thengel grunted under his breath. “People always want things from me. It is never a courtesy call.”

“The burden of a king-“

“The burden of Thengel,” he was quick to interrupt and correct, glancing down to the Dwarf beside him. Thorin raised his chin, eyes curious, and also slightly annoyed at being cut off. “No man ever simply speaks to me. I was and will always be my father’s youngest son, destined to bring news to him of lords and ladies who did good deeds and who would like, very much, to be invited to his court. I escaped to Gondor to try and find peace. Yet it was only worse.”

Thorin understood his meaning. “And now you are back here.”

“And with only more people demanding things from me.”

“I demand nothing,” Thorin tried to reassure him. “I merely wish-“

“Wishing is the lordly way of demanding, is it not?” Thengel muttered. He turned to face Thorin, eyes crueller than they had need to be in this situation. But his trauma spoke for itself, taking control over Thengel in this moment. And quite honestly, out of everyone to understand that, Thorin would be highest on the list. His past did not come without its fair share of trauma. To remain King under the Mountain meant dealing with the Dragon Sickness that never quite faded, a constant vicarious battle between reality and his own demise. Yet, he couldn’t say anything to help Thengel.

Because Thorin’s belief was that there was no one who could help Thorin but Thorin himself. And therefore, there was no one who could help Thengel but Thengel.

“I will think on it.” Thengel interrupted what had turned into a really long silence where both Kings had stared into each other’s eyes. “But I guarantee nothing.”

Then, with a sigh, Thengel waved his hand and offered Thorin and his company a place to stay whilst they recuperated, and to enjoy the feasts and blah blah… The man was done with niceties. He was no fit for a king, but there also was no sight of any of his brothers. No one, it seemed, wanted the crown.

As Thengel left Thorin’s side, Thorin thought hard on Thengel’s words. A troubled man, indeed. But not without cause. If only Thorin had the communication skills to offer his sympathies, but he had a feeling nothing would come of it but two stubborn men butting heads. He wished, for a split second, that his dear friend Bilbo might be there by his side to do the talking for him. Alas, he was enjoying a peaceful life in the Shire, away from politics and kings.

Good.

The Hobbit deserved as much.

“He is troubled, he means no harm.” The voice surprised Thorin, who turned and watched that curious ranger who seemed to be in the shadows during this feast, yet stand beside Thengel on his throne, approach him instead on the balcony. Hands behind his back, rugged black clothes and cape hiding a toned body, Thorongil remained a mystery to Thorin.

“And who are you?” Thorin asked, his voice a little too pointed to call it a kind question.

“Thorongil is the name people seem to use.”

“Yet it is not your name?” Thorin asked with a furrow brow of annoyance. It was a normal question to ask. Why not answer it?

Thorongil stayed quiet, an amused look appearing on his face. He pretended to watch the view as well. Men really were fascinated by these green open hills, weren’t they? Thorin doubted they’d offer his halls the same admiration, as cruel as that sounded.

“How do you know Thengel?” Thorin asked instead.

“We met in Gondor. We fought together during battles at the borders of Mordor.” Thorin’s spine shivered at the mention of that foul place. “We became friends, I suppose. I never asked much of him.”

There was something in his words that made Thorin tilt his head.

“It seems to be the way to his heart,” Thorongil added. He glanced down at Thorin with a pointed look.

“You mean to tell me I should simply not ask anything of him? Have no purpose for being here? And what, leave without an allyship?”

“Your purpose would be to welcome a new king to your neighbouring realm.” Thorongil gave Thorin a pointed look. “Support will take you a long way, Thorin Oakenshield. I suggest, for now…” Thorongil turned to glance over his shoulder. When Thorin did, he’d only caught sight of Maerwyn’s dress flowing as she rushed away. “For now, you simply enjoy the company.” With a knowing look, Thorongil left Thorin alone.

Men were confusing. Worse than Elves, it seemed.

These were going to be some long days spent in their company.

Part 3: Early Mornings, Baking and Courting – All Somehow Wrapped in One

The festivities died down a long time ago. Yet, Thorin could only hear noise. Noise from his own mind.

He tossed and turned in his bed, far too big for a Dwarf to begin with. He felt like he was being swallowed by some deep dark hole that would drown him in screams and anguish and growls and pain and dragons and gold-

Thorin sat up with a sigh, rubbing the thoughts and the gold away from his eyeballs.

Sleep would not come to him that night.

With a cold sweat shining on his skin in the faint glow of candles, Thorin stood and put on some clothes that would render him anything but royal looking. Dark robes and a large hood to pull over his head. He meant to walk the halls until morning. To occupy his body and get rid of the restlessness that persisted in his bones whilst his mind surged with dark thoughts.

Fili, his blessed nephew who seemed to always have a third eye for his uncle’s moods, awoke in his drunken sleep. He and Kili had enjoyed last night’s festivities to the fullest.

Groggily, Fili turned and glanced at Thorin. “Uncle…?”

“Go back to sleep, Fili.” How Fili could sleep with Dwalin and Kili snoring as much as they were, Thorin had no idea. But the vast amount of mead Fili had had most likely offered some help.

“Are you alright?” Fili pushed.

“I am just fine. I simply want to go for a walk.”

He didn’t convince his nephew. That much was obvious. But Fili gave in and put his head back down onto his pillow. He fell back asleep instantly. Most likely, Fili wouldn’t even remember this conversation come morning.

Heading out, Thorin wandered the halls, as he had planned. His mind was still clouded, dark, and he truly had no idea where his feet brought him. He found halls that were riddled with cobwebs, unused. He found basements and servant quarters and large libraries. A crypt, too.

But he didn’t explore any of the areas. He simply… wandered.

Until suddenly, he collided with something soft. In his half asleep state of panic and anxiety, Thorin had not noticed someone roaming the shadows, much like him, dressed in dark clothes, much like him, and collided with the figure upon both taking the same turn.

“I apologise- My lady?”

Her hood had fallen back as she’d stumbled against someone. Shocked, Maerwyn stared down at Thorin. “Oh! My Lord!” Her cheeks blushed. Pale skin tinted with emotions she was not used to. “I humbly apologise…” She curtsied.

Thorin smiled. “Please, I should be the one apologising. I was not looking where I was going. I was a fool for not seeing your beauty a mile away.”

Shocked by his words, her beautiful green, almost yellow eyes flickered hither and tither for a moment as she tried to compose herself. “I… I thank you for your kind words, my lord. But I must ask… what are you doing out of bed at this ungodly hour?”

A chuckle arose from Thorin’s chest. Oh… that felt nice. It had been quite some time since someone earnestly made him chuckle. “I might ask the same of you.”

She blushed again.

He liked seeing that blush.

“I was on my way…” She interrupted herself. Her eyes betrayed her as it was obvious she suddenly got an idea. “Might I ask you to accompany me, my lord? If I may be so presumptuous, but I feel you might gain quite a lot from this…”

That was mysterious.

Thorin always thought that he had had quite enough of adventures for a lifetime. He’d dealt with dragons twice too many times in his life; he’d travelled Middle-earth in search of a home far too much… Though, he never quite tired of visiting the Shire.

But Thorin had little else to do that night, and wanted nothing more but to bask in this lady’s beauty for a little longer. So he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way to this mysterious thing that would help Thorin.

Edoras Hall was built atop a hill, with a view over not just the surrounding Rohirrim fields, but also a view of the town itself. It was perhaps in no way the same beauty as Gondor, with its vast history and great, white walls; but it was, to Thorin, the most beautiful sight in the world. At least right now. He was biased though, as the town presented itself to him as a backdrop to lady Maerwyn. Anything would be as beautiful as Erebor’s halls to him when lady Maerwyn was present.

Her golden hair braided to the side escaped her large, black hood which was cast over her head to prevent people seeing her leave. Why the secrecy, Thorin had no idea. But he found it elicited some sort of youthful rebellion inside of him that only further made lady Maerwyn enticing.

He was unaware that, already, his mind was distracted away from the worries of trying to create a friendship with the kingdom of Rohan, and the dark nightmares that plagued him.

Down the steps they hurried, into the sleeping town with shadows cast over their faces. The sun was beginning to wake, and although there were already a couple of people awake, Thorin felt himself escape himself. As if a freedom permeated his surroundings, hidden as he was. As if for once he wasn’t King Thorin, or Thorin Oakenshield, but someone Thorin had missed being a great deal; a younger, less known Thorin who could stand beside his father and grandfather and not be noticed too much – who could wander the merchant stalls in Erebor with his friends without anyone treating him differently.

And as they approached a little house in the middle of town, and lady Maerwyn removed her hood to glance back at Thorin, eyes making sure he had kept up with her fast pace, Thorin felt that although he was no one with a special title at the moment, hidden as he was, Maerwyn still found him special.

He’d never felt that way before. Accepted for who he was. Even Dwalin, his closest companion, could not see him without his titles. And although that was not a problem in and of itself, Thorin felt… warm. Nice. When seen as just him for a moment.

Taking off his hood as they entered the house, Thorin found himself, to his surprise, in a little bakery. The sweet scent of freshly baked goods and bread was already all around them. Bakers were amongst the first to wake in most towns. Here it was no different.

However, Thorin found that the owners looked a little more stressed than bakers usually did. Still, as they saw lady Maerwyn, they took the time to pause and smile in a greeting.

“Oh how I’m glad you’re here, my lady.”

My lady. So they knew who she was. Thorin was a little dismayed that his anonymity might go away- “And who is this with you?” Oh!

Maerwyn gestured toward Thorin, and to Thorin’s surprise, she answered for him: “This is a dear friend of mine. He wished to help.”

“I’ve never had a Dwarf in my shop,” the owner, flour all over their apron in her hair, said. “Sorry, that’s a strange remark to make. Please! I need all the help I can get.”

Maerwyn smiled and led Thorin toward the back of the shop. Washing her hands in a little basin, she got straight to work. This woman knew what she was doing. Baking bread was no difficulty for her. Thorin found this curious.

But he didn’t comment on it just yet. Instead, he was focused on his own work because…

He might be a skilled blacksmith. He might be a skilled warrior. And on the road, he was not a stranger to hunting with a bow and making some good meat stews. But… baking was not something he’d done much of. Bread was not something Dwarves never ate, of course, but… it just wasn’t something he’d baked himself before.

And so as he awkwardly tried to mimic what Maerwyn was doing, he found his dough lacked… Well, it lacked everything. It wasn’t really a dough. More of a piece of slime.

And much to his dismay, he caught Maerwyn glancing at his work and giggle.

“It’s alright. Here… just add some more flour.” Thorin watched her, finding his gaze locked on her instead of what she was saying and showing. Her teachings went over his head, blinded as he was by… well, everything about her.

So once she glanced at him with expecting eyes, clearly waiting for him to try once more but with the addition of all she’d just taught him, Thorin stumbled once more and created, again, a slime.

She chuckled. And blushed, clearly aware what had just transpired. “How about you just knead the dough? Your strength will do you good here.”

He did not miss her eyes subconsciously glancing at his arms, the muscles which hid beneath his tunic.

And oh was he suddenly extremely motivated to show her that, yes, he did have strength.

He kneaded the doughs so keenly and with such motivation that he most likely looked a fool. Yet, Maerwyn smiled at him and only encouraged and praised his work.

Before long, another person entered the shop: that ranger who was always lurking around Thengel. Thorin’s heart sunk a bit, not because Thorongil would ruin anything, but because Thorin had enjoyed having Maerwyn’s complete attention.

And why was he always around where Maerwyn was?

Jealousy.

Thorin was quick to realise that what he felt was jealousy. Truly, it was unbecoming of him. This lady next to her, arm sometimes brushing up against his, sending shivers down his spine, awakened sides of Thorin that had laid dormant for so long whilst he had done nothing but try and survive. For decades, his life was all about the Dwarves under his charge. His people’s redemption. His people’s survival. His own throne’s return. Now, suddenly, he cared about kneading dough and a lady’s arm brushing up against his.

It was… a welcoming change of pace.

And he did not want it to be disturbed.

“My lady,” Thorongil greeted. Maerwyn smiled and greeted him back… “Sire,” he greeted Thorin.

And then, to Thorin’s surprise, Thorongil took off his rings, washed his hands, and began helping the both of them too.

A comfortable silence fell over them all, and Maerwyn’s little smiles and blushes toward Thorin never stopped. Thorin found it curious, and his mind suddenly realised that he had no idea why he was making bread.

“My lady, my good sir, might I ask of you… why we are helping the local bakery?” Thorin asked as kindly as he could. He’d learned from his nephews that sometimes he was a little too… gruff. Grumpy was actually the word Kili had used, but he hadn’t liked that. Grumpy was what one called someone old. And Thorin surely wasn’t old yet?

Maerwyn giggled when Thorongil blinked in surprise. “You’ve not told him?”

“I fear I quite forgot,” Maerwyn chuckled. “My brother wished for all the people to have freshly baked bread come morning, as a token of his gratitude and as a celebration for their new king. But I’m afraid my brother has always lived the life of a nobleman, even in Gondor or out on the road, so he didn’t quite realise how much work this would be on the bakers. Thorongil and I decided we’d help out. But working with one’s hands can have quite a therapeutic effect, and when I saw the look in your eyes, my lord, I thought I’d bring you here too.” Maerwyn, a bit of flour on her cheek, glanced at Thorin with sheepish, almost worried eyes.

Had she gone too far?

Thorin smiled. No, she had not. Perhaps he might have reacted differently in another circumstance. Perhaps he’d even reacted differently had it been anyone but Maerwyn who had said these words to him. But Maerwyn with her beauty was a welcomed person to dig deeper into Thorin.

And as a matter of fact, Thorin was a little surprised that she’d seen through him so well. He’d not even realised himself that during these hours, Thorin had not once thought of Erebor or its riches. He felt lighter. Lighter than he’d done since he’d taken on the burden of being King despite the Dragon Sickness in his heart. It felt… nice.

She felt nice. Too nice, for him. He didn’t deserve that after all he’d done. Yet, here she was, put on his path to offer her empathy.

He didn’t want to let her go.

“I thank you, my lady,” Thorin replied.

The Dwarf King caught a look between Maerwyn and Thorongil. A conversation Thorin had not been privy to seemed to suddenly come to an end. Thorongil bowed his head in defeat at her, and Maerwyn looked a little prideful. Thorin adored that look on her face. It made her glow. She should be proud all the time, Thorin thought. Someone should make her feel like a queen. He would, if only to see that look again.

The bakers had bowed and thanked the three of them so much that it had taken them five minutes just to leave the bakery. Once outside, all three of them put their hoods back on and walked back to Edoras Halls in peaceful anonymity.

By now, the morning sun was shining down on the town, and people had awoken. The bakery’s freshly baked bread was a scent that prevailed in the entire town. And when Thorin glanced back before beginning to ascend up toward the halls, he noticed young boys and girls, given a pretty penny to help out, deliver loaves wrapped in cloth to the people.

It was a good day for the townspeople. And, truthfully, Thorin found a newfound respect for the king. Despite Thengel’s demons speaking for him, causing distrust toward Thorin, a kind and well-meaning person was revealed to him through this very ordeal. No king would have thought of spreading food to his people as their first order. Most kings would have thought of themselves.

Thorongil walked ahead, offering Thorin and Maerwyn some privacy. Whether this was intentional or not was not difficult to read. Thorongil had offered a knowing look to Maerwyn before suddenly picking up his own pace.

“I hope you feel better, my lord,” Maerwyn said, breaking the silence between her and Thorin. “You looked so forlorn when we bumped into each other earlier. I wanted nothing but to help you.”

“Few would feel that way,” Thorin admitted.

“Why? You deserve help.”

Thorin grew quiet.

“You speak not very highly of yourself.” The walk up those steps toward the hall made Maerwyn slightly out of breath, yet as she walked beside him, skirts in her hand to keep from tripping, she took deep enough breaths to speak to Thorin clearly. She wanted him to listen. To hear. “You saved your people. You gave them a new home. You defeated a dragon.”

“There are details no one speaks of,” Thorin intervened.

Both paused as they reached the top, turning to face each other. Thorongil disappeared inside ahead of them.

“What details?” she boldly asked.

“I am not myself.”

“We all have darkness.”

“You should not grow comfortable around me. I have days I am no person. There are days I have to lock myself in my room as greed and desire are all I feel. There is, and always will be, a curse on the wealth of that Mountain. And my family, my bloodline, is its prey.”

Maerwyn’s brow furrowed in worry. Not disgust. Not fear. But worry. Worry for him and his wellbeing. Thorin almost wanted to wave it off and tell her to stop being naïve, as he did with Dis, Fili and Kili.

But it wasn’t naivety, and Thorin could see that much.

She meant it.

“Then I will endeavour to find more ways to help you.”

More?

“This was for me?” Thorin asked, gesturing back in the direction of the bakery.

“The baking was for the people. But letting you help was for you, yes. There should be more things that could aid you. I will figure it out. I promise.”

“You have no reason to promise anything to me.”

“And yet I am promising,” she persisted, smiling. “The stubbornness of Dwarves is true, it seems. Yet, the stubbornness of women is equally as true.” She stepped closer, as if wanting to reach out, but her confidence failed her.

Thorin had wished she’d done what she’d wanted.

“You have some flour on your cheek.”

Because it would have meant her touch his cheek.

“So do you, my lady.”

And it would have meant he’d been able to touch her too.

Thorin and lady Maerwyn did not have many more moments where they could speak in private. So they made their own time to do so.

Somehow, without saying a single word about it, both had found a routine in going to that very corner where they’d bumped into each other each early morning, for a stroll around the halls and some peaceful conversation.

Sometimes, Maerwyn came with some new ideas to distract Thorin from the darkness inside him. She presented painting to him, though he really did not want to even try his hands on that. He was a blacksmith. Painting was too delicate for him.

She also presented writing to him. He did try his hands on that and so one fateful morning…

“I have tried my hand on writing something.”

Surprised that Thorin had done this, not because she did not believe in his artistic abilities, but because she was truthfully not sure he wanted to help himself, Maerwyn had paused in their walk to turn to him. “Have you?”

She wore a nightgown underneath a thick, large cardigan. And she looked as heavenly as always, to Thorin.

With a nod, he assured her that he had indeed done some writing, before presenting a note from the inside of his coat. “I would like you to read it and let me know what you think.”

“I am no writer,” she was quick to say, shying away from the note.

“You do not need to be to see what can be improved upon,” Thorin reassured her.

Slowly, she took the note from him and opened it to reveal his writing. “I adore your writing style,” she praised him immediately. Thorin smiled and watched her. Maerwyn had this peculiar way of finding the positives in everything. The beauty. The good. The kind. And then she would also voice it, whether in praise or to alert someone to what they were good at. It was quite a beautiful thing, and perhaps it looked like nothing out of the ordinary to most – why a little praise was just kindness, and many had kindness! But to Thorin… when paired with her beautiful lips speaking the praise… it was perfection.

Those very words were what Thorin had written in that note of his. Those very words were what lady Maerwyn were reading right now, her green eyes dancing over the words with a speed that spoke of a well-read mind…

And then she blushed and shifted on her feet, not out of uncomfortableness, much to Thorin’s relief, but… joy.

“Are… Do you mean these kind words?” she asked him quietly. “Do you really find me…” She trailed off, blushing.

“I find you beautiful, yes,” Thorin said quietly, but confidently.

She brought the note to her chest, pressing it close to her heart to show her appreciation. A smile graced her lips.

And then both simply continued their walk. But they walked closer to each other…

And their morning walks turned into their own private courting.

Part 4: The Battle of Love (and Alliance)

“Good morning.” With a curtsey and a smile, Maerwyn, dressed in a green dress that flowed in seamless gentle waves from her waist down to the stone floor, joined her family at the breakfast table. Guests were offered breakfast in their rooms, so these moments were the only ones they had between just themselves.

Theoden and Theodis sat whispering to each other about their day’s plans, clearly looking mischievous. Something told Maerwyn that they were going to spend the day following Fili and Kili again. The two younger Dwarves had turned into the children’s favourite guests quite quickly. And Maerwyn was pretty sure Theodis had a little crush on Kili, which was adorable.

As they caught Maerwyn’s curious gaze, both began to giggle maniacally until their mother told them off. Thengel sat in pure silence, not even having acknowledged his sister’s presence.

Queen Morwen kept sending worried glances to her husband, but kept her head held high and pretended in front of the servants that nothing was wrong.

But Maerwyn was not like the Queen. Silence and patience were not her virtues. So, she reached a hand over to Thengel’s arm, dressed in a silk shirt. “Brother, what is wrong?”

A servant shifted between them, forcing Maerwyn to lean back again, missing the agitated clench of Thengel’s jaw. As more tea was poured into Thengel’s cup, Maerwyn pleasantly busied herself with buttering a piece of bread. A smile graced her lips suddenly, remembering her Dwarf King now each time she saw bread.

“That,” Thengel said. The servant had left, and Maerwyn turned her gaze to her brother again to find him staring at her with a less than pleasant look in his eyes. He was almost scolding her. “That is my issue.”

“What?” Maerwyn asked, her smile gone. It seemed to calm Thengel down.

Thengel did not elaborate on his words, he only quietly seethed in his seat as he said: “I will not agree on a partnership with the Kingdom of Erebor.”

“What?” Maerwyn asked once more, this time astounded at what she was hearing. “But brother-“

“They are here for their own purposes. I am not blind to the reports of darkness up in the north. Things are stirring. Changing. And I know they are here for our support. I will not sacrifice my own men for the sake of Dwarves.”

Maerwyn stared at Thengel in shock. “What has their race got to do with this?”

“They can bury themselves deeper into the mountains if they wish.”

“That-“ Maerwyn took a deep breath. Her brother was a kind and honourable man. Truly. But he was so, so broken and so unsure of himself… She’d hoped Thorongil’s presence would lessen that, but Thorongil was not here right now. “I don’t understand, my lord. There are also Men in danger in the city-“

“And you know this how?”

“I have spoken to the Dwarves.”

“You have spoken to one Dwarf, you mean.”

Maerwyn grew quiet. “I don’t understand your point.”

“You are my sister. You should be on my side. This is a political game. Everything is. No one wants anything from us unless it has something to do with what they can gain from it. Don’t you see? He does not want you. He wants soldiers. Protection.” At this point, Thengel had leaned in closer to hiss the words straight into Maerwyn’s face. “He does not care for you, only for his own skin. He is using you, Maerwyn.”

Promptly, Maerwyn stood up. The chair scraped behind her loudly. Servants paused and stared at her. Theoden and his sister watched her in surprise. Morwen looked sympathetic, but she stayed silent. And that hurt Maerwyn.

“I will not have someone tell me what is and what is not true in my own relationships,” Maerwyn said as curtly as she could, her voice barely above a whisper as she desperately tried to keep her emotions at bay. She’d not noticed how her hands had fisted parts of her skirts in desperation. “Especially not my brother. And not my king. You have it all wrong. You are too blinded by your own self-centred view on life to see how your hurt is hurting others. Not everyone wants something from you. And not everyone will use me to get to you.”

She turned to walk away.

“You will not talk to him ever again!” Thengel ordered angrily, his own chair scraping behind him as he stood but Maerwyn didn’t turn to show she’d heard him.

Tears flooded down her cheeks as she walked with her head held high, as far away from her brother as she could...

Her hands still clutching the skirts, Maerwyn found Thorin waiting for her in their usual spot later that day. A walk before lunch, around the small but still lavish garden that existed on the top of that hill, overlooking the Rohirrim fields like most views.

Yet, as Thorin bowed his head to greet her with a smile gracing his lips, he found she did not return a smile. In fact, she did not even pause her stride. She stared straight at him, well aware that he was there, but seemed to have arrived with a purpose and a determination that was not going to stop her.

It was part of what Thorin admired about her but-

He was not prepared for what was to come.

She strode over to him with such confidence and sad purpose he found no words. Nor did he find words as she leaned down and kissed him straight on the lips. Her fingers, which had clutched so tightly to her skirts earlier, held onto the sides of his face with a desperation yet gentleness that he’d never thought he’d feel before. Her touch seemed to activate some desperation hidden deep within himself, and he kissed her with a passion he’d never have used for their first kiss otherwise. It was on the brink of inappropriate.

But just as soon as they’d kissed, it was all over again as she recoiled in surprise at her own actions and stared at him with wide eyes.

“My lady?” Thorin asked, genuinely a little worried what might have prompted this.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered out aghast, before turning and rushing off.

It felt wrong to run after her, something in the way she’d looked at him told him so. So Thorin stayed put, trying his best to think of some reason for why this had occurred even if his mind was more on the kiss itself than anything else.

It was not until later in the evening, when Thorin sought Maerwyn out in her own chambers after not seeing her at any event during the day, that Thorin found out what was going on.

He knocked on her door and was let in by a maid who excused herself instantly, most likely on orders by Maerwyn. Said lady was sat in her windowsill, forlornly staring out over the Rohirrim fields and mountains. Curiously, her chambers were in the direction of Erebor, north.

“I apologise for this improper action, my lady, but when you did not attend lunch nor dinner, I worried for your wellbeing,” Thorin said, staying a courteous half a room away from her.

She at first didn’t react, nor did she turn her head to acknowledge that he was there.

She truly looked… sad.

“My brother is not going to agree to an alliance between our kingdoms,” she uttered monotonously.

Thorin sighed. “I know. He told me so earlier.”

Maerwyn turned to glance at him now, surprised at first, then even more sad than she’d looked earlier. Clearly, she’d hoped something she’d done might have changed his mind. “I am sorry. I think I am to blame.”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to look surprised. He crossed the room to reach her, gingerly taking her hand in his. “And why would that be?”

“I let myself get carried away. Thengel believes everyone is out to get him. Now he extends this anxiousness toward me.” She moved her hand away from Thorin’s. “He believes you are using me. I am sorry.”

Thorin soured a bit and grabbed her hand once more. “Then that is his issue and burden to bear. My original reason for being here is no more. I am here now, for you.”

A little smile graced her lips, but she didn’t dare to fully smile just yet. “But what of the darkness you spoke of?”

“Whatever is brewing in the North in those foul lands will brew no matter if we have extra support or not.”

“You might need us-“

“We will find some other way to beat it.” Before Maerwyn could try and say something anxious again, Thorin shook his head, “We will find some other way.”

She gave in and glanced down at their hands, letting her fingers intertwine with his. Two different people, two completely different sets of fingers, yet it felt so natural and perfect to hold onto him.

“I still am sorry.”

“None of this is your fault,” Thorin reassured. “Yet, you look sad not just because of this. Why did this hit you so hard, amrâlimê?”

“I wanted to help you…”

“You did.” Thorin smiled.

“And I’ve been trying to help my brother. But he is… If I cannot help, there is no purpose to me-“

“Do not say that,” Thorin was quick to interject. “My love, your purpose in life cannot be others. I appreciate what you have done and continue to do. But if you do not value yourself as highly as you value those that you help, you are going to go down a dark path.” He was quiet a moment, watching Maerwyn take the words in. “Disregard the King’s need for help. What is it you need right now to feel good?”

She squeezed his hand, staring deep within his eyes.

Thorin did not have to hear her words to know what she needed for herself, and from him to help her. With a smile, Thorin nodded his head. “Then come with me back to Erebor.”

…

Two Days Later.

…

Thorin kneeled in front of King Thengel. His nephews did the same a step behind him, whilst Balin, Dwalin and Ori were standing with their heads bowed. A public declaration of gratitude for the visit was occurring, and as King Thengel spoke his pre-practised speech, Thorin only half listened.

The tension that was in the hall was not just from everyone being fully aware that Thengel was going to publicly declare his denial to help Erebor and the people of Dale.

There was also tension because Thorin and Maerwyn would declare their own decision…

Secretly, Maerwyn’s maids were smuggling her luggage out through a back door and down to the horses and ponies. It was not like Thengel would or could force Maerwyn to stay. She was but a sister, so to speak, to the king and there were no laws granting him that privilege over her. However, Thengel might grow angry and Maerwyn’s kind heart would feel conflicted leaving on such notice. She and Thorin had already discussed it. It would be better to have the opportunity to simply leave whilst he was yelling at them rather than be forced to walk back and grab her belongings, giving Thengel time to use sympathy to make Maerwyn stay with him.

It sounded awful. Neither Thorin or Maerwyn wanted to talk like that about Thengel, truthfully, but his hurt and his trauma was evident in his actions. And they would be stronger than his love for his sister.

As silence fell over the hall, Thengel’s speech done, Thorin and his nephews stood back up again. The two kings bowed their heads at each other.

Then… “As for the proposed friendship between our peoples…” Thengel cleared his throat. Beside him, Morwen encouraged her husband with a smile. On the other side, Thorongil was peacefully watching.

Perhaps those two peoples’ reactions should have prepared both Maerwyn and Thorin for what was to come. But they were so adamant that they had all the information that they fell blind to what was happening right before their eyes.

“I publicly declare that the Kingdom of Rohan is now an ally of the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Esgaroth!”

A silence followed his words. Until he smiled and laughed at everyone’s shocked reactions, and people suddenly cheered and roared. Lords and ladies clapped their hands in ecstasy, because an allyship was always good.

And Thorin… Well, whilst his nephews elbowed him in the side with happy looks on their faces, Thorin still was not quite sure this was real.

Not until Thengel approached and offered his hand to Thorin.

Slowly, Thorin shook it, and the two kings nodded their heads at each other.

“What changed your mind?”

“People told me to weigh the consequences. I’d not only lose an ally, I’d also lose family.” He smirked. “You thought I wasn’t aware of your and Maerwyn’s plans? I am King of these halls. I hear everything.” He sighed, letting go of the handshake. “I am trying something new, King Thorin. I hope you can prove to me that this something new will not end up as bad as I think it will.”

Thorin bowed his head. That was a promise he could keep. “Thank you, my lord.”

Thorin glanced to the side where Maerwyn stood, stunned and with her hands over her mouth in shock still. But she looked happy. And so he smiled at her, along with Thengel who had turned to check what Thorin was looking at…

Hand in hand, Thorin and Maerwyn led the entourage of Dwarves down the steps from Edoras Hall. The towns people had gathered to clap and wave the guests and their new allies off. Most looked shocked at the sight of their lady Maerwyn going with the Dwarves. But it was a silent message to all that Thengel’s sister had found her home.

Before either of them took the reins of their horses from the two stable boys standing at the end of the steps, Maerywn and Thorin turned to each other and kissed in front of all. A gentle kiss to publicly declare the truth.

Behind them, Theodis was waving at Kili with a blush on her own cheeks. Kili played along and sent an air kiss her way.

With people cheering them on now, Maerwyn and Thorin turned to Edoras Hall standing proud on the hill, and waved one last time at King Thengel, Queen Morwen, their children and Thorongil.

Helping Maerwyn up on her horse, Thorin took the reins from the stable boy to his own pony, but paused to glance back to this Thorongil one last time, curiosity in his eyes.

But he found Thorongil was suddenly gone, nowhere to be seen. As if his goal had been accomplished and he’d left the scene to keep doing whatever a ranger did…

Shaking his head at that, for some reason thinking that this was not the last time Thorin would meet Thorongil, Thorin climbed up onto his pony. He reached out for Maerwyn’s hand and rode with her beside him down the town of Edoras. Maerwyn glanced back once to wave goodbye to her family. A big smile was on her lips.

“Will you miss them?” Thorin asked her.

“I don’t think so. I have all the family I need right here.” She leaned over to press a kiss to Thorin’s lips…

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❤️ - I loved it! 💛- Please write more for this pairing/fandom!! 💙- HOW DARE YOU?? /lh 🤍- don't reply to my comment, please (I'm shy/anxious/don't want to talk today/don't like the feeling of being acknowledged when reading on AO3) 🤎- showing support for this / extra kudos 💚- twas okay 🖤- meh... have read better

#my tolkien writing #thorin spring forge 2024 #thorin oakenshield #thorin x oc #thorin x female oc #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #everybody lives AU #lotr #my writing #tsf24 #tolkien event

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ironmandeficiency · 2 years ago

Text

cattails and chaos (reflections)

pairing: bilbo baggins / thorin oakenshield

word count: 2705

summary: a brief moment of respite during the quest lends thorin to reflect on his ever-changing family.

a/n: my entry for thorin’s spring forge 2023! bagginshield has taken over nearly every waking thought since joining the fandom & this is what has come from it (tagging @thorinsspringforge so they know where it is)

the rain finally ceased pummeling the company of thorin oakenshield. soggy dwarves and a dripping hobbit, after being left to their own devices by their wizard companion, were grateful to find even a moment’s rest.

bilbo, to his own joy, found a sprawling meadow some dozen miles past the carrock. his hairy feet were grateful to feel rich soil beneath them once again without the immediate threat of danger that loomed over the company’s shoulders since they left his dear smial.

the invisible weight rising off the hobbit’s shoulders was perceived by every dwarf, raising the morale ever so minutely. there were scattered protests against taking a break, many dwarrow wanting to put as much distance between the encounter with the pale orc as possible. hobbitish mutterings about yavanna boxing her husband’s ears for the stubbornness of his creations grew silent as bilbo drank in the sunlight around them, delighting in the beauty of nature that he’d sorely missed.

there was a very palpable impatience in the air. they were so close to the mountain now, there was no reason to dilly-dally around like tittering old ladies with their gossiping over tea and biscuits. but with one look at the peace bilbo found in this little slice of nature, thorin couldn’t bring himself to completely toss it away. so he ordered a brief pause in their trek and gave orders for a midday meal to be set up, pretending that he wasn’t doing it simply to marvel at the tranquility slowly engulfing his hobbit.

of course, if asked, he was merely following oin’s orders to try and find some rest. it doesn’t matter if none of the company would actually believe said excuse, it’s the one he will stick with. being king has its perks, no matter how few.

“bilbo! come look, there’s a pond!” kili shouted from a distance, waving the hobbit down enthusiastically with fili at his shoulder. though what he found was more of a glorified rain puddle than a pond, it still strengthened bilbo’s already wide smile.

both princes were rough-housing around the water’s edge, bringing each other into playful chokeholds and giving nuggies into already-tangled hair. bilbo approached them with a laugh bubbling in his throat and a spring to his step none had seen in far too long.

he unwittingly had thorin’s attention and adoration captive. his feet moved of their own accord, something deep in his soul telling him to stay close to bilbo. hobbits had to have some sort of magic infused with their laughter. how else could thorin explain the smile that nearly swallowed his entire (albeit short) beard and the chuckle that escaped without his permission?

one of them found water reeds along the banks of their pond. fili soon had one of his many knives in hand, cutting several of them off their stems for some unknown reason. thorin observed his nephew collecting them, wondering what he could possibly be planning. knowing his nephews, it couldn’t be pleasant.

“oi kee!” fili called for his brother’s attention, a few of the shorter reeds in hand, the longer ones in a pile by his feet. he waited until kili’s eyes were on him and grinned a grin that never meant anything good was about to happen. “watch this, bilbo,” fili nudged bilbo with a smirk before executing his plan.

“pull!” he shouted.

three reeds were suddenly gliding through the air and kili’s attention was immediately drawn to each of the brown rods. an arrow was notched and released, nailing one of the reeds and causing a fuzzy explosion to erupt above the heads of the company. but he wasn’t done; before the other two could hit the ground, kili waited until they were just about even with each other before releasing another arrow their way, nailing both of them with the one shot.

their celebratory shouts brought smiles to the rest of the company, bilbo applauding and laughing at the spectacle the boys made. there was an overwhelming amount of fuzz floating on the breeze, catching itself on everyone and everything around.

after watching the boys play around a few more moments, bilbo left them to their own devices. thorin almost didn’t notice bilbo’s approach, his mind suddenly finding itself back in time and manipulating the sight in front of him.

rambunctious laughter echoed around the clearing. two young dwarrow were clinging to each other in their giggling fits, barely keeping each other off the ground. mithril beads of durin’s line glinted in the afternoon sun with a shine that could have blinded the local fauna if they hadn’t already run away from the noise.

“you take that back, you scruffy menace!”

“sorry sister, i don’t speak boar!”

thorin would know the voices of his younger siblings anywhere. he couldn’t decide if it was clever or foolish of them to be spooking the wild game away from their little corner of the woods, but there was nothing to be done now to remedy the situation.

“ragh! you’ll regret that!” his dear dis never took frerin’s silly insults well, especially when he would cackle almost obscenely while he spoke them aloud. “make me!”

dis’s battle cry could be heard all the way to moria and her fury could put the mightiest warrior to shame. “baruk khazad!”

frerin’s surprised curse came out as an oof! as he fell to the ground, dis on top of him lightly beating the daylights out of him. thorin made no move to help his brother, simply watched as little dis all but pulverized the middle child of thrain, son of thror. small but mighty, indeed.

playfully frantic eyes found thorin’s and called for his big brother to save him from the wrath of little sisters. “i would help you, but i would rather keep my jewels about me, nadadith!” being over a decade older than his sister didn’t mean he was cocky enough to taunt her into pointing her ire in his direction.

dis was a honey badger of a dam; unassuming at first glance, her stunning beauty disarming foes into complacency until they did something monumental set her blood aflame, then all bets were off on her showing mercy.

the look of mock betrayal from frerin brought thorin to his knees in laughter. it had been far too long since he had the weight of his people off his shoulders. here, in this moment, he wasn’t the exiled prince nor the future king of a kingdom inhabited by a fire drake.

right now, he was simply thorin thrainul, older brother and observer of chaos. and the one who brought snacks, which were happily split between his brother and sister when they finally tired themselves out from their roughhousing.

bilbo knew thorin’s mind was somewhere else. it wasn’t a knowledge built up over years of friendship, it was a knowledge gained by his own experience traveling with the usually stoic dwarf. the hobbit knew the glisten of yearning eyes like the hair on the tops of his feet; they matched his own eyes when he looked upon his back garden where his parents were buried side by side. “what does your heart see?”

the king looked upon his burglar with an appraising look. there would be no harm in telling him about how his nephews were mirrors of his siblings, how their playful smiles brought him back to a clearing similar to the one currently occupied by the company. so he did, and his heart felt all the lighter for it.

“they remind me of better times, the brief moments when the weight of my bloodline didn’t press around me on all sides.” bilbo hummed thoughtfully, knowing what that feeling was like despite the lesser magnitude between their situations.

“the times before i was head of the baggins family were much more carefree. i was able to sneak around with my brandybuck and took cousins, stealing pies off windowsills without a care in the world,” bilbo spoke wistfully of his childhood, telling thorin about the shenanigans he got up to behind the great party tree and in farmer maggot’s fields.

then his tone grew somber, almost too much so when they were surrounded by the raw joy from the boys nearby. “but after da passed, i had the responsibility of my house thrust upon me mere years after reaching my majority. there was only so much ma could do to help me shoulder it all, seeing as she was only a baggins by marriage and as such, didn’t have the same authority over the baggins’ affairs as a blood-baggins.”

thorin nodded, bidding his companion to continue. listening to the hobbit speak of his family kept him from shutting down after telling so much of his. “she tried to let me have a few more years of freedom, but her death several years later only cemented me further into the responsibilities of my station. the head of the baggins family and only child of the old took’s favorite daughter, burdened with purpose he’d rather have been without.”

the old took; that sounded familiar to thorin for some reason. a moment’s thought reminded him that he who bilbo spoke of was gerontius took, a former thain of the shire who was the closest thing that the green hills possessed to a king. dis was responsible for establishing trade to ered luin from the shire through him, securing nutrient-rich food for the exiled dwarrow and market stalls for craftsmen of all kinds in exchange for protection from vicious beasts of the night that threatened the hobbits’ peace.

by sound dwarrow logic, this proved bilbo descended from a line of hobbit royalty. evidently, the company’s burglar understood thorin’s struggles far more than the genteel hobbit let on.

neither paid any attention to how their bodies gravitated towards each other as their conversation continued. it wasn’t until bilbo all but pushed himself into thorin’s space, back against chest, that thorin realized just how close they were. it was remarkably peaceful in each other’s personal bubbles.

“fili’s an almost exact replica of frerin,” thorin broke the silence between them thoughtfully. since azanulbizar, it slowly but surely became easier for him to say his brother’s name without screaming and cursing mahal for guiding him into the great halls far too soon. “their eyes are different courtesy of his father, but fili’s hair is identical right down to the texture. he protects kili with the same ferocity that dis received as a pebble, and he tries to give kili the same happy memories frerin gave her.”

“i’m positive dis sees the same when she looks at them.” as an only child, he never got to experience the protection of an older sibling nor the desire to give everything to keep a younger one pure. watching fili and kili… it filled him with a sense of yearning he hadn’t felt in a long time. “i myself am an only child so i wouldn’t know firsthand, but i believe memories like that will stay with someone forever no matter how long they live.”

thorin’s reply is cut off by fili and kili’s playful war cries. they’re wielding the stems of longer water reeds cut off earlier like swords, whacking each other until their respective reeds burst then grabbing a replacement. the brothers are painted furry beige by the seedlings, nearly making kili’s hair match fili’s.

once the burglar and king silence their chuckles at the antics of the young princes, they seem to curl even closer to each other. bilbo drank in the warmth and safety that was thorin’s proximity and embrace.

“did i ever tell you about the hobbit language of plants?”

“once or twice, i believe.” once or twice truly meant close to a dozen. several times when the company stumbled onto random patches of overgrowth, the hobbit would pause and tell whoever was around him about the shire meanings of the plants and ways they could be used. when kili presented a stunning indigo flower with petals akin to draped fabric, bilbo nearly tripped over his feethair in his haste to discard the blossom; not only for its poisonous properties (leave it to kili to find the one deadly flower within miles of forest), but for its hidden meanings of treachery and hatred.

bilbo didn’t have to be looking at thorin to see the wry grin on his face. the bastard. “don’t you sass me, your royal annoyingness,” thorin challenged him with another laugh. a gentle swat to beefy arms was accompanied by a put-off sigh. “anyways, those cattails have their own meaning, even though they’re rarely used in arrangements made by harfoot hobbit hands.”

harfoot hobbits? yet another classification that thorin would have to ask about later. for now, however, he was simply going to listen to bilbo’s plant meaning lesson. “pray tell, what do these cattails symbolize in the kindly west?” the name cattail was surprisingly accurate, thorin mused.

“they stand for leaders, enthusiastic new beginnings, and the strength of those who set their own path. they can even be used to signify new relationships, depending on context of course.” bilbo valiantly fought the flush of his cheeks back with an imaginary stick.

after the carrock, bilbo and thorin didn’t put a label on whatever new territory their slowly budding friendship was entering. in fact, it was very insistently toeing the line between friendly familiarity and something a bit more tender and intimate, but there was no rush to cross any hastily drawn lines. what time they found to enjoy each other’s presence without the gossiping ninnies that made up the company of thorin oakenshield was spent simply learning how to be around each other. no need for immediate answers, no worries about impropriety in the middle of the wilderness, just existing. if it included a few haphazard braids, well that was no one else’s business but their own.

“it seems rather fitting for our situation, remarkably so.” bilbo relished in the vibrations of thorin’s chest against his back as the dwarf spoke, nodding his acquiescence. in near silence thorin guided them both to sit on the soft grass nearby, just far enough from the banks to keep themselves from the mud but close enough to keep an eye on the company.

the princes were now occupied with bursting cattails and spreading the seeds onto the rest of the company. the only one safe from their antics was dwalin simply because they were rightfully concerned about what the consequences would be if they poked the bear that was the seasoned and gruff warrior.

nori joined them in the shenaniganry after kili fuzz-bombed him, momentarily lamenting how difficult it would be to get the seedlings out of his starry updo. the mischievous brother ri was the one who targeted dwalin, laughing it up as his target seemed to submit himself to the bullshit. it wasn’t until nori was sailing through the air towards the center of the pond that the thief realized his mistake.

twice now bofur has shaken the seedlings from his hat, and three times the floppy monstrosity was coated in them, so he simply gave up and submitted to his fate. oin was taking the time to collect the offending fuzz and jar the sap from the cut stems, quietly rambling to himself about the medicinal properties of the reeds. bombur was muttering about how difficult it was to keep the fuzz from being an uninvited garnish in the company’s meal and dori, upon hearing his ranting, took to being on soup-guarding duty by fanning away seedlings that got too close. while nori’s dip in the pond had removed the early pieces of fuzz from his hair, being wet now made them stick to him even more; ori giggled and compared his older brother to a temperamental feline, his pack immediately divulged of his charcoal and journal in haste to immortalize nori’s suffering.

it was peaceful in the company’s secluded pasture. maybe one day after the mountain is reclaimed, they could revisit and let the feeling of true peace wash over them once again. but for now, they all remained in the present moment, preserving these memories as protection from the inevitable rough times ahead.

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