#thranduil says his last words to thorin

[itsonlydana]

Hi, I could not find your rules for writing, but if I may request some smut/fluff *Thranduil x reader*. You can imagine this scenario; the tranduil and reader are playing this kind of game: do or drink, and how they are playing, they have various tasks,some are funny, some are more s€xual... they are kind of sassy and playful, and they are teasing eachother (because none of them want to lose), and after that they will do what have to be done (yk what I mean). If you are not comfortable or I over-crossed your rules, than you can ignore this ♥︎. Thank you for your beautiful writings, cant wait for another !

Drinks and Dares | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Boredom leads Thranduil to ask you to play a game that either end in far too many secrets spilled or far too much wine drank. When you agreed you wouldn't have thought the evening to end like this!

tags/warnings: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, smut, oral sex (fem), fingering, pet names, slight intoxication on wine (they literally played a drinking game, it's all consensual), Thranduil gets off on reader wearing his crown

word count: 4,5k

an: this turned out to be much filthier and longer than I expected or planned but here you go! I'm getting much more comfortable writing smut though it's still not at a level where I could say: yeah i know what I'm doing so forgive me if it feels a bit "clunky"

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The truth was, you shouldn't have agreed to play a game with Thranduil. 

As his most trusted guard ever since he was crowned and daresay friend for the past two millennials you should have known better than to assist him in his mischief because you knew, you knew, that nothing good ever came to his bored ingenious mind and once again you were proven to be right in that initial judgment you had ignored again, and look where that led you:

Sitting cross-legged in his private chambers and staring up as Thranduil elegantly made out with his own reflection in the tall mirror.

It was one of the more…audacious dares of the evening because you see, Thranduil's idea of entertainment was, of course, combining drinking with luring out a side of you that you, on a normal day-to-day basis, hid behind the honorable task of accompanying your Majesty. Normally you would never allow it to be this carefree, to not bother checking your surroundings – or tongue, a far worse opportunity to slip up. Thranduil could protect himself very much without any help though he liked to keep you around for comfort, but your tongue?

No, there were far too many secret desires that needed to be pushed down with the utmost care. 

This concentration and focus were however nowhere to be seen after you had agreed to fool around with Thranduil's infinite supply of wine that never seemed to become less, despite the amount you drank. 

The dares became less light-hearted the more wine flowed. Sneaking around the servants' hall to steal Feren's comb changed into you having to yell out the first word that came to your mind when you thought of Thranduil (the bastard had you scream 'so fucking sensual' before you both collapsed into giggles). The dares you gave Thranduil changed quite drastically as well, going from tame things like telling whoever he hated the most on the council (Thorin was the only answer and that was nothing he kept to himself) to.. well – kissing himself in the mirror.  

From your point, you saw how his eyes were closed and his lips opened, smooched against the fogged-up crystal as his tongue sensually licked up a bit of spit he left. While his breath clouded the sight, you held yours in an effort to capture the smallest of noises like the soft moans that slipped out of him.

You heard and saw him press a wet kiss, a last shorter one, nothing more than a quick peck, against his reflection before his eyes snapped open to meet yours and you hoped he mistook the dilution in your pupils for the wine you held cradled in your lap and not for the pure arousal that cursed through your bloodstream and pumped straight to your core. He smirked, sharp at the edges of his with spit glittering mouth. He wasn't stupid. 

"So," you cleared your throat and leaned back on one hand, lifting the other to sip on your wine, "Your turn."

"Mhm yes." Thranduil lowered himself back on the chaise longue and tugged a leg under himself. He wrapped his long fingers around the chalice to click his nails against the gold; the beat echoing deep with the throbbing between your legs. "You shall do the same as me."

"What?" you huffed, "Kiss the mirror?"

He nodded.

Your eyebrows drew together in a frown, "You can't just give me the same task! That's not how this works, Your Majesty–"

"Then drink," Thranduil said unbothered by your nagging, "That is how the game works. You do," he paused and tipped his chalice into your direction, smirking, "or you drink."

Playing games like this led to far too many secrets spilled and far too much skin revealed, evidenced by the state of undress you're both in. 

Your armor had been placed by the door long ago, leaving you in a simple tunic and leggings that had grown uncomfortably warm by now. Thranduil too had rid himself of all the fancy robes and was left lounging in far too few layers for anyone else to see him. You saw the pale skin of his throat all the way down to a muscular chest revealed by a loose satin tunic and noticed every twitch of his legs confined in very, so very tight sitting, breeches. 

You glared at him and gripped your own chalice tighter, tempted to just down it all and give him another dare that his ego would not easily allow to give up on but it has been a long evening and most of your thoughts are still hung up on the imagery of Thranduil pressed against his own reflection, hand splayed wide against condensation of his own hot breath. 

Standing up quickly your head spun a few rounds didn't stop you from marching up to the mirror, swaying a bit to the left before reaching it. Thranduil watched you, his eyes locked onto yours and even if he may wanted to seem casual, leaning back into the cushions, his bobbing throat betrayed the image of unaffectedness he was trying to portray.

You told yourself it was the wine in your system that made you stand up on your naked tiptoes to reach the spot where Thranduil's breath had left an imprint of his mouth and, shaking just slightly, your mouth crushed against the warmed glass; right where he had been.

You tasted spit and wine and metal. 

It was not at all what you had expected and at first, there was awkwardness to kissing a smooth surface that didn't reciprocate your movements until you heard a choked-up sound behind you. Thranduil's noise fueled you on and remembering what he had done, you opened your lips, allowing your tongue to draw a suggestively figure-eight. 

Another gasp, this time it was your own at the lack of oxygen that would have taken you down had you not drawn back. By now the alcohol muddled your brain completely, making it impossible to stand still and not sway again. Heat pooled in your cheeks and down lower between your legs, and you were sure they were as red as they felt; flushed by this indecent behavior that only he could provoke in you because who were you but a fool in love?

"See, this was not very hard, was it?" Thranduil laughed huskily.

"Still a stupid dare," you bit and sat down again, glad that your knees didn't give up halfway across the room as they threatened to do. As a trained warrior, a good one at that, you may say so yourself, you should be able to control yourself better. It was truly pathetic how the scratch of Thranduil's voice combined with the heat that threatened to suffocate the room left your hands shaking and your knees wobbling. When the world tipped slightly, you gave in, falling onto your back to watch the ceiling spin. 

"Okay," your eyes followed the roots that curved through the stone. They had been there long before you built the halls around them though now they were intertwined in the very ground that held you all together. "You, um, you have to drink or–" You grasped at whatever coherent thought was left in the puddle of brain that swooshed inside your head. A girlish giggle left you as a most improper idea manifested, its origin that one fantasy you had for decades now, never more than a secret you only dared to think about in the most lonely times.

"Or?" Thranduil inquired. He sounded very amused and if you looked half as funny and flushed as you felt, you understood why.

"Or," your head lolled to the side, taking in his long body splayed across the chaise longue watching you with a look in his eyes that had heart feathering, fluttering like a bird's wings, "I'm allowed to wear your crown."

A beat of silence. 

Thranduil's eyebrows slowly wandered up on his forehead, creating the perfect arch to capture his short moment of confusion before his mouth followed. Just when you thought now you'd done it and fucked up his lips curved into a smirk and you hoped, begged, lusted after his agreement; you wouldn't survive a denial. 

Not now, not with heat curling hot inside your stomach.

You wouldn't say the atmosphere changed, not particularly; there had been an underlying tension ever since you both had freed yourself from the constricting robes and armors and pretended not to stare at each bit of skin revealed, but there certainly was a shift to what was already there: hunger. 

Starvation in the form of wide eyes and quick intakes of breath, your body screaming for him and you scrambling toward Thranduil, as he slowly petted the empty space next to him. 

"Sit," his voice commanded, and ever the dutiful admirer of His Majesty you sat up straight and placed your legs in a perfect angle in front of you instead of following his example and tucking them under your body. Thranduil unfolded them gracefully. He kept his eyes trained on you and you had no problems staring right back. "I must say, you are awfully brave to ask me for my crown," Thranduil said as he stood up and thus forced you to crane your neck.

"To be precise," you started, without a care in the world this would be most daring as well, if not borderline stupid and ignorant, "I did not ask for it." Thranduil's eyebrows wandered up again. You didn't shrink under his gaze but rather challenged it.

"Do you call your king a liar?" 

You lifted your chin higher, tilting it slightly in thought. There were many answers to his question, varying greatly on the specter of what one would deem inappropriate, and all of them lay on the tip of your tongue.

You settled on one of them with a soft smile on your lips that could be perceived as dreamy. "I do not call my king a liar," you waited until Thranduil thought this to be your final answer until that satisfied smirk of him thinking he had won another round appeared on his beautiful face, and then you continued: "There are rules to this game and so I didn't ask for your crown, I dared you to let me wear it. It's entirely in your hands to either accept the dare or you must drink." The last part you said slowly, not rushing out the words that fueled Thranduil's smirk further on just as you had predicted it would happen if you showed finesse in your answer and not gave into his power-plays. 

"So it seems," Thranduil said. He reached for the crown on his head, the oak sticks, lush with moss and green foliage that sprouted a colorful array of yellow buttercups, pink foxglove, fiery-red poppies, and blueish-purple tufted vetches for summer had come, and weighted it in his hands. 

He lowered it slowly, taking his time to take in every little breath you took, the rapid rising and falling of your chest that had Thranduil's special attention. When you felt the crown parting your hair, had the twigs press against the sensitive skin behind your ear, and were completely engulfed in the oh-so-sweet but heavy floral scent, all rational thinking left you with a breathy moan. 

There was control, and dominance in the crown, in all that it stood for and now you wore it, still physically beneath Thranduil but that too changed the moment your lashes fluttered looking up at him, intoxicated on wine, power, and the knowledge to be the only other person that ever had the privilege of this.

"Valar, look at you," Thranduil rasped, darkness blew his pupils wide and his hands fell to cup your neck into their large palms. Fingertips pressed against your fluttering pulse and you automatically, even though you had never allowed any Ellon to touch this delicate part, leaned into it. 

"And? How do I look?" you asked and gasped as his nails scratched over your neck.

Thranduil's grip on your neck nudged your head back further. He leaned down, loose hair like a waterfall out of starlight and if the hunger in his eyes was anything to go by, he was burning up just like you. 

When he spoke, it was a low tide rolling over coarse sand: "Majestic." His thumbs were under your chin, hindering it from dropping at the word though he felt the whimper bubbling up inside you where his fingers laid claim on your throat. "My turn," he said.

For a brief second, you didn't know what he was talking about, all that went through your head was that this, you sitting in his crown with him standing in front of you, was worth all the pining of a millennial. 

"You will address me by my given name, not by my title."

"What?" Your tongue flicked out to wetten your lips.

"I –," Thranduil's thumb wandered the same path that your tongue had, "dare you –," he pulled your lower lip back, revealing your open-in-wonder-gaze, "to call me by my name while I worship you in a manner deserving for a Queen."

Your heart stopped and were it not for the tension tying you down, you would have stumbled away. "Queen? Your Maj–"

"Silence!" Dark eyebrows furrowed in on themselves. Thranduil's hands trailed down your neck, over your chest bone and heaving breasts, nails tugging on the cord that kept everything together as it should, and effortlessly, one flick of his hand snapped the knot open – revealing the frantic breaths that moved your body. He sank to his knees, spreading open his legs to sit down on his heels.

"My Ki–" 

This time you stopped yourself, biting down on your lip to keep the word back that felt like a lie with the crown adorning you and instead doing nothing but stare at your King, because that was who he was in the end, Thranduil, Great Elvenking, Son of Oropher and Leader of the Woodland Elves, pulling on your leggings and removing the last part of clothing that had hidden your arousal. 

"You started this, little one," Thranduil murmured as he nudged his nose against your thighs, his lips only centimeters away from your skin. His eyes flickered to you, "you will forgive me if I finish it."

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"Why not? Who are you to deny a King a wish most truthfully coming from his heart?" There was a taunting tone in his voice. "

"I am nothing but a mere guard, Thranduil," his name slipped your tongue more easily now that he was kneeling in front of your dripping sex and a certain shyness fell over you, "There are far different ellens deserving of this– of your touch"

"You have taken care of me for many years, far more than I can count," he said lowly and softly, while his hands brushed over the subtle curves of your naked legs, dipped into the bent of your knees to coax them open, "Let me be the one to care for you now."

His lips left a wet trail of kisses up your thighs, hot and open-mouthed and you were whimpering even before he sealed them over your throbbing clit and flicked his tongue over it. A whimper became a gasp, a broken one at that because Thranduil wasted no time teasing you but rather dived right into slightly open his jaw and using the flat length of his tongue, he licked through your lips in such a manner the obscene sound echoed through the entire chamber. 

Your hands flew to his head to bury them in the soft strands of his hair and you wrapped them around your fingers for a better hold. Not that that was necessary, the way Thranduil lapped at you showed no sign that he ever wanted to be anywhere else than between your legs.

His tongue moved through you swiftly, the talent of the wide enough to cover all of you, yet precise technique to flick against your clit again and again on his route brought a blazing hot pleasure to you that quickly dissolved all the muscles you had used to stay upright. 

Thranduil moaned against you, and through the mess that you had made of his hair, ruffled all across his forehead, you saw his eyes roll back into his head, and when his luscious lashes brushed your pelvic bone just as he heaved your legs over his shoulders to practically hold you up, your back arched beautifully and all that remained were your arms and shoulders that got burned by the fabric, the coil inside you snapped and all you could do was follow his orders to scream his name.

In a flash, you went from practically elevating in the air to being pinned into the chaise lounge, Thranduil's broad body covering you easily. Long agile fingers stayed where his tongue had been, two spreading you open and the middle one slipping right into you thanks to the mixture of spit and your cum that he had graciously left there. 

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked through gritted teeth and you felt him grind his own affection into you. There was certainly a heavy weight against your shaking thighs and you moaned at the loss of not having him inside you yet. Thranduil grinned, and you felt it on his lips kissing your neck and jaw. "You did," he chuckled breathlessly, "You sat there all evening, letting this game continue as your pretty head thought of a way to fulfill these filthy– filthy fantasies."

You clenched around his finger at his words and the low timbre he used to speak them directly into your ear. One of his rings, cold despite the heat that surrounded you both, met your clit and your hips flew up but were stopped by his body caging you in.

"Tell me," Thranduil opened his mouth and teeth grazed over your ear; you were keening instantly, dripping more than you have ever had in all the nights you pretended your own fingers were his though now you knew they would never come close to the actual thing, "What came next in your fantasies?"

"Preferably me," you whined.

It brought a full laugh out of him, heartily and so not at all fitting for the situation you were in but that lifted some of the stressful tension, leaving more room for playfulness that had been far back in your head out of the need to preserve every second, afraid this was just the wine playing tricks on you. 

His heavy yet perfect weight was a pressing reminder this was not at all an image your mind had conjured. 

"Is that a dare?" 

Damn him, you thought. He was still keeping up this forsaken game.

You raised your hands, missing your goal the first time at a loss of focus he robbed you of with a second finger fucking into you. The next time you tried you managed to wrap your arms around his neck and grab some of his tresses. 

"My King," you watched his pupils blacken out even further, taking away most of the calm blues and grays, "I dare you to respect the crown." Thranduil let out a throaty groan, almost as if he was tortured. You smiled, however much you could while his fingers scissored you open.

"I dare you to fuck me like there's royal blood in me."

He hooked his fingers, dragging the tips over a rough patch inside you that had you keening and stumbling over whimpers and gasps that slipped out of you faster than you could catch your breath. His mouth latched on to your neck again, sucking a bit of the soft skin into his mouth only to soothe the spot his teeth had nibbled on a moment later in a wet apology. The thought of a bruise in the shape of his canine is exhilarating, doused by the wine that left its hot film over all that's happening. 

"Such vulgar language," Thranduil mocked and, to your absolute disagreement, pulled out his fingers. His hand once again found your thigh, wet and glistening with the essence that he left on your skin, as his other hand made quick work of his breeches, somehow, gracefully pulling them off and flinging them somewhere across the floor through where it landed was not at all were your attention fell to but rather the impressive size of him.

He always had been muscular and well-formed for an Ellon, not that he lacked in elegance for that, but you had noticed his shoulders were broader, his chest defined yet slender and naturally one couldn't forget about his height. It was as if the stars had conspired to ensure that he would stand out in every way and exceed all expectations.

Eager to get his cock inside you you wiggled your hips, chasing after anything that could bring you closer to your goal. 

The only result you got was Thranduil's fingers coming down to pinch your clit as he clicked his tongue. His dark eyebrows raised in admonition. "It seems you require a lesson in behavior fitting a Queen. This impatience must be lost at once!" 

Faster than you could react he flipped you over, large hands effortlessly handling you to face the cushions, knees spread wide and your dripping cunt exposed to him. Your legs nearly slipped of the sides, bringing out a squeal of surprise. "Thranduil!" you laughed and turned your head.

As soon as looked over your shoulder and saw his flat hand palming your cheek, spreading you open while his other hand fisted his hard cock, all teasing became unnecessary. Thranduil let a drop of spit fall onto his hand which he used to lube himself up.

"A loyal subservient must always be on his Queen's side," he said and his hips twitched into his hand, "I will swear my allegiance to you from behind you."

Bright blue yet lust-clouded eyes stared at you and his smirk sent shivers down your spine; all for him to see. You felt his cock nudge against you, the tip alone larger than expected and you gasped. It became harder to keep your head where you could watch his face contort, to see his jaw slacken at your tight heat, and you pressed your chin against your shoulder in need of support. 

Every inch that breached you burned most deliciously and even now, most of his cock was still for you to see, he had imprinted itself to be the only Ellon who would ever fill you this perfectly. You want to howl at the burning pleasure that sparked up your spine, a glimmer of hot fire licking through your middle, and need buried its claws in your tender flesh.

He pushed into you completely, slipping right in due to his extensive preparations and the surreal amount of wetness that surely dripped onto the expensive fabric of the chaise lounge that burned where your knees dug into it. The moan he tore out of you at the intrusion vibrated through you wholly. You screamed in ecstasy, spiraled into an endless pit, and your head dropped down not unlike a puppet that had its strings snapped, however, yours were strung tighter. You felt your cunt blink around him as you accommodated the heft of him.

Thranduil moaned, grunted, and exhaled heavily throughout the whole slow push until his cock sat deep inside you and his sharp hips met your ass. His hand there gripped you harshly enough for it to probably leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and moons of his nails, and the fluttering of your walls around his length did not help in him loosening the grip. 

"Devine," he groaned lowly, "Oh, how I have imagined how you would feel stretched around me." Huh? "This sweet, sweet cunt plagued me for far too long for me to act upon it only now," he continued and rolled his hips against yours. It drove his cock deeper, meeting a spot that had you seeing stars and made it impossible to answer to his admissions, which only continued.

"The many ways I thought about your body beneath mine, your pretty lips sucking me off during these unbearable meetings." 

A hand wrapped around your chin, nudging your head away from the pillow you had used to stifle your moans, fabric lint dry on your tongue, and imprints of your teeth left behind, and as Thranduil pulled out of you, leaving just his tip in to stretch you, he turned your head back at him again. Long fingers stroked over your temple, pinched your cheeks together to draw your mouth into a pucker and you followed the silent instructions of sucking his pointer into it. 

Thranduil leaned down, his chest covering your back completely, you whined at the loss of the inch of cock this movement brought forth, then his lips were peppering kisses to your ear. "You dared me to fuck you like royalty?" he asked and you frantically nodded. Thranduil's teeth flashed at his wide smirk. "Then you better take all that I have to offer"

One smooth thrust, your moan echoing loudly, a wet squelch far too obscene, and Thranduil set a rhythm that had you rely on his arm that wrapped around your middle for any hold on reality. Your hands clawed at the chaise lounge, nails ripping apart seams to ground yourself against the punishing pace with which his cock drove itself home, carved a space for the massive length and width, and the sounds you made only fueled Thranduil on. 

"Look at you," he gasped, "taking me so well."

The praise washed over you with such a crushing weight. 

Days, Weeks, Years, Decades, Millenniums. All the time that had passed. You thought you would wait forever for a compliment as meaningful as this, to hear his appreciation and now.. oh he thought you to worthy enough to take him, to take all of him.

Tears pooled in your eyes, dripping slowly and falling down at the brutal pace used to hammer his cock into you, deeper, further, more and more until you thought it punched a way through your stomach up into your throat because all that you felt, all that you were, was a snug fit, taking him so well.

"Thran.. Thranduil–" you whined and the strings in your gut tightened. "Please," you begged, for all, for nothing, for him. He alone held you over that edge you barreled towards, he alone would be able to push you over into an abyss of the ever-growing pleasure.

"Cum," he ordered, voice strained and by the frantic rhythm of his thrusts you thought he was reaching a limit as well, "Let me feel you cum once more. I dare you!"

You wailed, another sound mixing into the slapping of skin, the shortened breaths and the grunts, the loud pounding of the blood inside your ears until his fingers dropped down to your clit, pinching it again through the slick that pooled there, lightening up yet another nerve ending and you screamed as hot white blinding pleasure exploded and engulfed you. It shot through your limps, branched to every last cell in your body, and filled all thoughts. Even your own heartbeat became an echo of his cock.

Stars

A sea of twinkling lights, burning up in front of your eyes as you screamed your release, your whole body twitching and at the same time pressing back into Thranduil's hips.

You wanted to see him unravel, to come undone and this egoistical part of you fed on the thought of being the one who breaks the Elvenking but when his hips stuttered one last time and you felt his release coating your twitching insides, Thranduil was just as electrifyingly and unfairly beautiful. 

Cold metal brushed against your lips and you blinked dazed. 

"Drink," Thranduil had grabbed the abandoned chalice and held it to your panting mouth, ignoring the drool that wettened the corner of it.

"But–," you mumbled and a dreamy, fucked-out smile spread in your face, "I haven't even heard the dare yet."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[kat651]

hobbit characters realizing and confessing their love to you.

🤍Kili

He is the kind of guy to fall and fall hard. He first realized that he loved you when he saw you effortlessly take out a massive amount of orcs then just smile smugly at him.

his love only grew until it was too much and he had to tell you so he walked up to you when you were sharpening your sword. “Y/n, I- there’s something I wish to tell you…” he said. “What is it, Kili?”

he led you out of ear shot of the others and looked up so you with fear and hope mixed in his eyes. “Y/n… I love you…” and of corse you’d just have to lean down and kiss him.

🤍Fili

By the time he realized he was falling for you he was already half the way in there was no turning back now. So, he knew he had to tell you before he went mad. Thing is, every time he tried, his words got jumbled and he made a fool out of himself so instead he settled on a dwarfish custom that would express what he wished to say.

he sat next to you and began to weave a braid into your hair. You knew instantly what it meant and turned to kiss his cheek, causing him to blush madly. “Took you long enough,” you whispered softly in his ear.

🤍Thorin

He realized he loved you when he was facing Azog on the frozen lake. (Movie version) he was in his back, Azog hovering over him with a blade inches from his chest. You ran and knocked the pale orc away from Thorin before killing the foul beast. “Thorin! Are you ok, are you hurt?”

he just jumped to his feet and pressed his lips on yours. “You saved my life, y/n…”

🤍Bilbo

he realized he loved you when you, quite literally, walked into his life. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you ok?”

he immediately was a blushing mess and by the end of the week he had brought you a bouquet of wild roses.

you received them with a smile and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Bilbo…”

🤍Thranduil

He realized he loved you when he was riding into the city of Dale (movie ver) on his elk. (Which of corse got killed ☹️) he was immediately surrounded by the enemy. An arrow was notched but he noticed a second too late and would have been shot in the chest if you hadn’t thrown yourself into him, pushing him out of the way. But -if done at any other time would have likely gotten you thrown in a cell- unfortunately you now had an arrow in your abdomen.

The last thing you saw was Thranduil catching you before you hit the ground then, black.

when you woke you were in a tent, covered in some sort of silky, highly expensive, fabric. You realized after a moment that it was the king’s silk cape.

you looked over when you heard the rustle of fabric, king Thranduil knelt next to you and you went to sit up but only ended up clutching your side. “Lay down, you need to rest…”

you blushed and looked up at your king. “My lord I-”

you were gently cut off by a kiss to the forehead. “Rest, melith nin, you need it.”

🤍Elrond

he is the strong type he doesn’t confess that he loves you for some time. When he realized it was when he saw you in the garden, helping a baby bird back into its nest. it was such a small act but he found it endearing.

he confessed his feelings on a star lit night. You were out on a walk and the moon was lighting your face so perfectly that he could no longer just watch, he joined you in your walk and by the end of it his lips had met yours more than once.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Never Tried- Thranduil x Half-Dwarf!Reader

Summary: Thranduil has never had someone on top before, reader shows him how much he’ll like it

Word Count: 3, 219

Dwarves seemed to hold certain characteristics that were so different to elves, that Thranduil just couldn’t stand them. Though the war was over, and peace was attempting to be made between the king under the mountain and the king of the woodland realm, it didn’t mean that Thranduil was anymore at peace with three and a half dwarves roaming his kingdom.

Thranduil hadn’t gone for a walk to clear his head in a long time, but with the lingering smell of dwarf around, he thought it the best thing to do.

Gently strolling around the forest, his thoughts surprisingly fell to you. He never intended for this thoughts to so often lead back to you, but it was almost like an uncontrollable pull his mind had. You were part dwarf so there were things about you have found displeased him, but they never seemed to infuriate him like the other dwarves did. On the other hand, you were also part human, so you still held this wonder-filled grace to you that he’d often found in humans.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but lately you came to his thoughts more and more. At first they were pleasant, remembering the way you laughed, the way you corrected Thorin in a meeting, or the way you twirled your hair when you began to become tired after a long day.

You and the other dwarves had been in his kingdom for four days, and every day he found his thoughts of you becoming less and less innocent. If he was being truly honest with himself, perhaps it wasn’t the smell of dwarf that had led him to the forest tonight, perhaps it was just a way to stop himself from desperately rutting into his sheets or hand, to the thought of you.

It seems over these last few days, his innocent thoughts had melded with less than innocent ones. As he thought about your laugh, he also thought about the moans he hears you make when you finally lay your tired body in bed. Correcting Thorin at meetings, turned into the way you might boss him around, tell him how to please you. And the way you twirl your hair, made him wonder how your smaller hands would feel grabbing onto his own hair.

Thranduil became so lost in these thought as he walked, that he fancied he truly did hear your sweet moans. Both breathy and deep grunting moans, with skin sinfully slapping against other skin. He stopped his leisurely strides to close his eyes, thinking he’d begun to go mad.

“Stop it, it’s not real.” He found himself quietly whispering, trying to rub his temples until the intoxicating illusion would leave, but it never did.

It wasn’t until he heard another persons moan did his eyes finally open. Whipping his head up, his eyes honed in on where he heard the mixed sounds of ecstasy comes from.

His strides became longer and more confident as he came closer to the source of the noise. The delicious sounds became louder, the closer he walked, until he saw it.

There you sat, your naked form with an intoxicating sheen of sweat on it, bouncing and grinding on another. He found it hard to break his eyes from your gorgeous body and the way your breasts moved as your body chased its pleasure.

Finally looking down to where your eyes landed, he saw it was one of the dwarf princes you road. His rough hands grabbed at your thighs and breasts, as his ridiculous moustache braids bounced with your movements. He smiled up at you as you rode him, and grabbed at your soft flesh.

Seeing Fili grab at you in such a way filled him with boiling rage. Thranduil can try all he might to lie and say his rage was about the two of you defiling his forest, but really it was rooted in jealousy.

Thranduil wanted you all to himself. He wanted to be the only one to grab at you, the only one you teased as you drew pleasure from his body. Only now did he realise how badly he really wanted you.

His walk began as a way to clear his head of your intoxicating being, but now he begins to walk back, knowing that he can’t avoid those thoughts of you now. He knew the vision of you grinding and bouncing as pleasure-filled moans left your perfect lips would be ingrained into his mind, and he’d have to do something about it if he hoped to get any sleep tonight.

******

Thranduil took long strides to his room at the end of the next day, trying desperately to get away from you. The meeting had felt like it had gone on forever, every time he’d look at you, his body grew desperate and heated. Conversely, every time he looked at Fili, his body filled with rage. Having such strong emotions rattling through him for so long, left him feeling exhausted and in need of some time to himself.

He walked so fast and out of focus that he didn’t even see you in his path, until his body had collided with yours.

Looking down at you, his face stayed in the frown it was set in.

“Watch where you’re going.” He growled as he moved past you swiftly.

“You walked into me!” You defensively called to his fleeting form.

Your comment made him stop in his path. Was he offended you’d speak to him in such a way, or was he maybe a little aroused? He honestly couldn’t tell.

“What did you say?” He asked dangerously as he turned and walked back towards you.

Most people would hear an elvish king use such a tone, and give them such a look that they’d start to break down with apologises and fear, but not you. You stood your ground with your head up high, meeting his challenge. The confidence you held made him crave you even more.

“I said that you walked into me. You should watch where you’re going, your highness.” You fought back against his question, with his formal title being said in a way that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Well why were you standing in the middle of the hallway in the first place?” He asked you, trying to win at this pointless argument.

“Not that it’s any of your business with how rude you’re acting towards me, but if you must know, I’m waiting for Fili.”

At the mention of the dwarf princes name, his body became hot with rage and jealousy once again.

“You truly can not be apart from your love for long can you?” Thranduil asked, with the intent to both tease and actually gauge what your relationship might be.

His question was met with a scoff and a laugh.

“Fili is not ‘my love’. What makes you think he is, Thranduil?”

At hearing you confirm your relationship and say his name, the kings body began to simmer and become warm with need and surprisingly even submission. However, his face still stayed stoic, intending to win an argument he never really wanted to happen.

“Well usually when two people make love in my forest, I assume they are together.” He challenges, as his stoic look turns into a devilish smirk.

Your eyes grow wide and your skin begins to heat with embarrassment as you realise he must have seen you, but being just as stubborn to win this argument as Thranduil was, you quickly compose yourself.

Flirting with the king might not be the best move, but seemed like a fun way to win this argument.

“Are you jealous, Thranduil?” You ask slyly, biting your lip as you move gracefully towards him.

This caught him off guard and his composure began to slip. This was the last way he expected his argument to go, and though he hated to admit it, he loved the way you teased him.

“N-no! Don’t be ridiculous!” He quickly tried to keep his composure.

“Oh come on, Thranduil, don’t get upset with me. How long did you watch for? Did you enjoy it?“ You continue to tease him, now standing before him with your hands upon his chest.

This was all becoming too much, he had to win back power in this situation. He didn’t want you to stop touching him, and he wasn’t going to push you away.

“I watched long enough to see what you were doing. Long enough to know that your lover can not be a real man if he lets you take control in such a way.”

Thranduil was such a liar and a hypocrite. He would let you do anything you wanted to him and he’d thank you for it, but such a comment was all he had to fight back with. Unfortunately his plan didn’t work, and in fact it had the opposite affect. You only grew bolder, as one hand lay on his chest and the other slid to caress the back of his neck.

“Perhaps you think that way because you’ve never tried it. Never had a woman sit upon you and use you for her own pleasure. Perhaps you’re afraid you’d like it too much. Big bad king of the woodland realm giving up all control and losing all composure for a half-dwarven woman, must sound awful just to think of.” You tease as you step even closer to him.

Unfortunately for Thranduil, it didn’t sound awful, it was exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to control and use him, he wanted to worship you and beg and plead. He was going to get what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to do it easily.

“I’m not one to back away from a challenge. Perhaps you can show me, try your best to get an elf to lose his composure. I am not one to beg or be submissive, so it will be fun to see you try.” He challenged you, trying hard to keep in control, but from the little smirk on your face and the way you bite your lip, he knows you see right through him.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be by this evening to take care of you. Poor powerful elvish king, wants to be taken care of so badly that he doesn’t even know how to ask.” Lifting on your toes, your lips ghost along the shell of his ear. “When I’m through with you, you won’t be asking, you’ll be begging.” You cheekily tease him, parting from him with a sweet kiss to his neck.

As you break away from him with a giggle, he is left there stunned and extremely aroused.

*****

Meeting in his bedroom gave Thranduil the illusion of having the upper hand. He’s a king, something like this should not fill him with the anxieties it does, and yet he has been pacing his room for the past 20 minutes.

Finally after what feels like an eternity, he hears a knocking from his door. Getting his composure back, he takes a deep breath and straightens up, before opening the door.

Looking down, he sees you in a simple robe, with a cheeky smile plastered on your face. Silently stepping aside, he allows you to enter.

Your eyes roam around the magnificent room as you take it all in. Dwarves styles also have a brilliance to them, but the style of the elves feels almost mystical.

Thranduil simply stands by the door watching you, as if he’s waiting to be given instructions. Once he sees your attention land on the bed, and your eyes fill with mischief, his heart begins to race, from both excitement and anxiety.

As you turn around to face him, Thranduils back straightens, in an attempt to fake confidence. You can see right through his attempts, and your smile widens as you teasingly pull the tie of your robe.

Letting the garment fall open and to the floor, you are left in a gorgeous silk night gown. Whether it was brought with you or given to you by one of his maids, he’s not sure, but he can’t help but stare at you. All composure is lost as his mouth drops open, and his eyes rake over your form.

“You like what you see, Thranduil?” You ask in a sultry voice.

As if drawn in by a trance, his eyes slowly make their way to your mischief-filled ones. He really does try to stay in control, but it’s hopeless and he no longer wants to fight.

“Very much so.” He desperately replies.

With a smirk, you approach him, his eyes watching as your body moves. Standing before him, you press up onto your toes to wrap your arms around his neck.

“You know, it would be a lot easier for you to kiss me if you lifted me. Come on, darling, hold me like I know you want to.”

Your teasing and demands should make him mad, but they don’t, if anything they just fill him with more desire. Before his brain can catch up with his body, he does exactly as you say.

A sweet giggle leaves your lips as you’re lifted into his arms. Your hands stay wrapped around his neck as both of his larger hands easily hold you up by the back of your thighs.

Now looking into his eyes up close, you can see how truly filled with desire they are. Without wasting anymore time, you crash your lips against his own, the kiss quickly becoming heated. His hands squeeze desperately at your thighs and ass, as your hands tug at his lovely blonde locks, earning you a desperate moan.

“Bed, Thranduil. Take me to the bed.” You breathlessly order him.

As if moved by a force beyond his control, he quickly carry’s you to his large bed. Surprisingly gracefully, he lays on his back as you straddle his lap.

“You listen to me so well, sweetheart. Are you going to be good and let me ride you? Will you worship me as I deserve?” You question the quivering king below you, your fingers lightly tracing along the side of his strong face.

His eyes close and he lets out a moaning sigh from your touch and the way your hips begin to grind against his growing length.

“Yes, I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just please, please say my name.” He desperately begs you, his hands now roaming over your thighs and ass.

Smiling down at his submission, you begin to lightly trace over the slight skin of his chest that is exposed, leaving him shuddering and keening. He whimpers as you pull his hands from your body, but stops as he sees you pull your night gown over your head.

As you bare your body to him, he can’t help but let out a desperate moan as his hands fly to grab at your form. Though his touch feels amazing against your skin and makes you wish for more, you quickly take his hands and push them to either side of his head. At this new angle, your breasts are perfectly in his face, and he wishes so desperately to lick, kiss and suck them.

“When I let go of your hands, you’ll be good for me and take off your clothes. Do you understand, Thranduil?” You whisper against his lips, barely even touching them.

At the sound of his name and the way you tease him, he can’t help but moan out his reply.

“I’ll be good for you.”

He sounded so desperate and pathetic that it made your body tingle with need.

“Good boy.” You sweetly encourage as you gently kiss his lips.

The moment you sit up and release his arms, Thranduil is quick to follow your orders. With surprisingly delicacy and speed, he manoeuvres you around his body as he rids himself of his clothes.

Feeling your bare skin pressed against his makes his eyes flutter shut and a moan to leave his mouth. His hands come up to rub along your hips and thighs as he unknowingly begins to grind against you.

“Mmhmmm, making you feel that good and you’re not even inside me yet.” You gently tease, as you take one of his large hands and bring his fingers into your mouth.

Sucking on two of his fingers, his eyes fly open to enjoy the provocative show above him. Taking his fingers from your mouth, you slowly lead them down to where you need him most.

“Feel how wet I am, Thranduil. That’s all for you.” You gently coo as you begin to grind against him.

With one hand holding onto his wrist, the other begins to stroke his impressive length. He was definitely much bigger than anyone you’d ever slept with, but with how wet you were and how good he was already making you feel, you tried not to worry about it.

Pulling your hand away from his length and his away from your heat, he almost lets out a whimper, before he realised what you were doing.

“You want me badly, don’t you, Thranduil? Want to fill me up and let me use you? Let me hear you beg, sweet king.” You sweetly order, rubbing your wetness against his length, as one of your hands rests on his chest.

“Please, y/n! Please I need you so badly, my lovely goddess. I-aa-aaahh.” His pleads are promptly cut off as you begin to slide him inside of you.

You both let out desperate moans as you begin to sink down. It takes a little while and sweet caresses and words from Thranduil before you’ve sunk all the way down, but once you do, you waste no time placing your hands on his chest and beginning to grind against him.

His hands can’t seem to decide where to grab at, as they roam over your breasts, waist, hips, thighs and ass. Stroking and caressing every bit of skin he can while you grind and hump against him.

Your shared moans fill the room as both of your movements become more heated and desperate.

It’s not long before the dynamic is totally changed. You are no longer using Thranduil for your pleasure, you are now both working in sync with one another, staring into each others eyes as the pleasure in both of you begins to build.

“I-I’m close.” Thranduil moans out breathily.

“Me too! Gonna cum around your cock so hard!” You loudly moan out as you begin to rub your clit, needing that little bit more of stimulation.

“Aaa-ah! Cum with me, Thranduil!” You loudly moan as you feel a wave of euphoria wash over you.

Mere seconds after you, Thranduil is grabbing at your hips and rutting into you as he finishes inside you with a moan.

Breathing heavily, your body collapses onto Thranduils chest, his hands instinctively caressing your sides and back, as he peppers kisses along your head.

You both felt completely relaxed as Thranduil continued to stroke your body and your hair, feeling at peace with one another.

“Would you like me to lift you to the bath? We can clean up and you can stay here tonight.” He sweetly and gently offers.

“That sounds lovely.” You smile sweetly at him with tired eyes.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Inspired by that post about Thranduil being all defensive/protective over Gimli in Valinor:

We all know the head canon of Thorin being all "no nephew of mine even associates with an elf" BUT

Just imagine, in a world where all three Durins survived, and Tauriel saved Kili (again), and some other elf healed his and Fìli's wounds last minute.

Thorin saw both his nephews almost die before him, has LIVED through how the gold sickness twists the mind and perception of things, and after coming to terms with Bilbo's theft of the Arkenstone, he for a while questions EVERYTHING.

And yes, he totally has a dramatic phase of self pity, holing up in his rooms, drinking Elvish wine (cus thats all there is atm) and smoking Gandalf's pipeweed, and mourning how "everything i knew is a LIE" and "if elves can make such amazing wine there HAS to be some good in them" and "I almost got my boys killed I am such a failure boooohoooo", and after Bilbo kicks his ass out if depression (and a STRONG worded letter from his sister) he is like "okay FUCK y'all I have TRAUMA TM and will do WHATEVER I WANT!!"

So when Kili all shyly comes forward one day asking if Tauriel can please stay with them in the mountain because she's banished from the Woodland Realm he's all "OF COURSE she can stay, you do you my precious boy, if Thranduil is stupid enough to let such a great warrior go we'll stick it to him"

and BAM, Tauriel joins Dwalin in leading Erebor's guard, and Dwalin is torn between "excuse ME u want me to share my job with a pointy eared maiden?" And "holy hell that lass has fire can't show how impressed I am".

And Tauriel Takes No Shit even from her own boyfriend, so Kìli is forced to take his new responsibilities seriously because "I did NOT lose my home to live with a CHILD, Kili", and Fili gets dragged into the whole thing without really understanding what happened, but hey, his lil brother is happy so who cares really.

And whenever someone at council (like Dain) complains about an Elf in the mountain, Thorin goes absolutely FERAL like "are you saying I don't know what's best for this mountain I just won from A DRAGON?! are you suggesting that my perfect baby nephew has bad taste? Huh? Exactly, didn't think so!!!!" And is a protective Papa bear "listen Tauriel if someone gives you shit you SHOOT them. No, not killing them, but, you know, just maim them a little to make a point. Trust me I'm the king."

And once Kili and Tauriel have their first child Thorin constantly kidnaps the kid and has them in the forge before they can even talk because "need to keep up that good old dwarven influence".

Anyway I'll go cry myself to sleep now.

[fantasyinallforms]

✨I did some practice writing angry consort Bilbo, and it didn't turn out half bad. Slightly cracked and a tad occ for Thranduil but it felt good enough to share. 1.1k words. ✨ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo lunged at Thranduil. 

"What is this!" He shouted, clutching a wrinkled piece of parchment in his hands. Things had been so calm. Years of quiet interrupted only by minor disagreements that were always resolved peacefully, but what he held in his hand at present was slander. 

Thorin caught him around the waist before he could connect, and Bilbo fought him like a caged cat, tears of frustration and hurt in his eyes. 

"I had your back! I offered you, counsel! I defended you against others who looked to sow discord between our people! Was this what you thought of me the whole time?" Bilbo had never been this angry. Not at Lily Bottoms for stealing his tart recipe, not at the page who ruined an entire nearly finished book with a dropped bottle of ink, not even at Lobelia for stealing his mother's silver spoons. 

He kicked and demanded that Thorin release him, putting weight behind his attempts, but his husband never let go, only tucking his nose into his hair with a whisper of apology. 

"Was it because our friendship started with dishonesty? Something I needlessly apologized for and made right time and time again? LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!" Bilbo screamed, and finally, the elven king looked at him with a hint of shame in his eyes. 

"I had not thought through my actions or my words," Thranduil replied, unusually cowed by the sight of his rage yet still his eyes were callous. 

"How very evident," Bilbo sneered. "You have always seen conspiracy where none existed. All I did was try to warn you. I tried to counsel you when I knew others wouldn't. You surround yourself with those who revere you and will not hold a mirror to your actions. Anyone who doesn't see you in that light, you outcast." 

"I never asked for your opinions. I simply sought to share the stresses of leading my people without unsolicited advice." Thranduil shot back 

"You never had to ask! Has the definition of friendship strayed in the last 8000 years? I saw your mind swaying dangerously. It was my duty to say something. You are a leader. There is always more than just yourself at stake. If that burden of responsibility has grown too much, then hand the crown to Legolas and be done with it!" 

"You say that there is no conspiracy, yet there you hold the evidence that there are plenty I can not trust." Thranduil spat.

Bilbo balled up the parchment still in his hand and threw it at Thranduil's feet. He was no longer fighting to get his hands on the elf king's person, but Thorin still stood by his side like a ridged statue, his hand on his arm in comfort. He knew Thorin only held him back for his own sake. He wouldn't let him react out of anger, knowing he would regret his action later as much as he might want to let Bilbo blacken an elven eye. 

"I hold this in my hand because I earned the loyalty of the people closest to me. You should have known Bard was honorable, that his conscience would not have let your words go unchallenged. That you would take my kindness and twist it into animosity tells me more than I cared to know. More than that, in the months since I sent you my letter of warning, you acted as though nothing was amiss, sending correspondence and even asking for my opinion as you always have. By spreading these lies, you would seek to shatter the very peace you helped build!" 

"What am I getting out of any of this other than responsibility? I watch from The Greenwood as Dale and Erebor grow in power. None of that prosperity comes my way. You, and those like you seek to take from me all I have built and make me an outcast in lands I have inhabited far longer. I know it in my heart." 

Many times over the years, he worried about Thranduil. Time and stress burdened people in different ways; it mattered not the race they came from. Thorin, Thranduil, and even Lord Elrond had faced hard lives and the same water that softened potatoes hardened eggs. It didn't make the bitter sting of betrayal taste any better. Thranduil should know better, and Bilbo wondered if he was saying that because, to some extent, he always put elves on a pedestal, and to see one act as such was a hard truth that could not be veiled once revealed. Age and intelligence were no measure of wisdom. How do you change someone's mind when they refuse to see past their own version of the truth? 

"You betrayed my trust. You spoke ill of me behind my back and tried to get my friends to think less of me. You would attempt to alienate me from a community that you know sustains me to sate your own vanity. For what? The crime of caring about you, caring about your future! I can tolerate hate and vitriol said to my face, but I can't abide words said behind my back. Trust, once broken, is hard to get back." Bilbo held in the chest-wrenching sobs that lingered underneath his anger. It was a hurt that would sit in his chest for some time after Thranduil returned to his home.

"Then what of this community you claim exists between the elves, men, and dwarves? Even if I made amends, is this to be the end of our friendship?" Thranduil's face was unreadable, and Bilbo wanted to slap him. The bastard couldn't even apologize, not that he had expected one. 

I will not disparage you to others or vilify you further than whatever damage your pettiness has done by itself. I have only ever wanted to build a time of peace where we can trade and practice our crafts. I will not let you steal that vision from me. Dissent would only lead to war, and I have no interest in tearing the lives of my people apart. As far as our friendship, that is to be determined by you and what actions will take from here. Any words you could share beyond that mean little.” 

Everyone in the room seemed to understand that the end of his sentence marked the end of the conversation. Bilbo turned and sank into Thorin's waiting arms, letting his husband do the work of keeping him upright. 

"And Thranduil," Bilbo called, still not looking at him. "Take the soured gift you brought with you. I'm beginning to find your generosity inconsistent." ~~~

(At several points Tumblr auto-correct tried to change Thranduil's name to tranquil and taquito. I find this hilarious)

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐜𝐞 & 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 ⚘ 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘

Summary ➳ Thorin’s heart swears to despise each and every dragon, but how could he come to hate its rider who longs for a home as he does?

Extra Information ➳ (Y/n) appeared in Mirkwood twenty three years ago with a baby dragon perched on her shoulder. Thranduil took her in to keep a promise to an old friend.

(A/n) ➳ I started writing this mid November of last year back when I started the Hobbit. I plan to upload this series either Spring or Winter. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I feel like this is more of my better works considering I wanted it to feel like the Hobbit/LOTR.

Word Count ➳ 610

Content Warnings ➳ Female Targaryen Reader, 3rd P.O.V, mentions the Doom of Valyria, mentions of death…

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1

(Y/n) watched from the corner, watching as each dwarf was pushed into a cell. Their complaints were falling on death’s ears.

She stepped out from the shadows and towards Legolas’s direction, wanting to know where the dwarves came from.

“What do you know of dragons, girl?” The dwarf’s voice was gruff, laced with bitterness as he eyed the dragon sigils embroidered into her clothing. “You wear it like a badge of honor.”

(Y/n) eyed him as well, realizing who the dwarf in the cell was. “You’re Thorin Oakenshield? Heir to the throne of Erebor.”

Thorin’s fists clenched around the iron bars. “You have yet to answer my question.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in amazement. “I cannot believe it. I’ve-”

“(Y/n)! Dina!” Legolas commanded her to come. “Get away from the dwarf.”

With that, she walked away, leaving no room for Thorin or (Y/n) to say anything.

“Must you speak to them?” Legolas sneered, following you down the steps. “What reason do you have?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the infamous Thorin Oakenshield. It was not disappointing.”

“...Is it?”

(Y/n) nodded, a smile on her lips. “Yes. If what they say is true… If they reclaim the mountain, I would love to see the glory of Erebor.”

Legolas froze in his steps. “I am beginning to wonder where your allegiance lies.”

“What makes you wonder that?”

“...Go, I need to report to the King.”

She rolled her eyes, asking herself if her curiosity made Legolas or anyone else question her loyalty.

Of course, her loyalty lies with Thranduil, he saved her and took a human and a dragon in. A human not from this world.

The sun had begun to set when (Y/n) stood at Thorin’s cell. “Might I ask you something?” She began, breaking the silence.

He looked up at her, eyes wary. “What is it? Dragon rider?”

“If you had no memories of the kingdom or its riches, would you still fight to reclaim it?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “For it is not the gold or treasures that drive me, but the honor and memory of my kin who were lost. To reclaim Erebor is to honor their memory, to give those who wish for their home.”

He stepped closer to the bars as he spoke his words, loudly enough for the rest of the Company to hear. He spoke with bravery and pride, not a single once of shame in them.

(Y/n) listened to his words closely. It made her think of her own home, the writing of the book could not describe the doom correctly.

Only a dream, unsure if it came true…

(Y/n) became lost in her thoughts, she began to speak aloud. “I wonder…” She uttered. “What it would be to see Valyria, to walk the streets, see the dragons fly into the sky with my people on its back. I wonder if any Targaryens remain.”

She sighed, sitting down on the steps. “I wonder if the dream was true and the doom of my home was correct.”

Thorin, still irate from the encounter from earlier but genuinely curious about her side of dragons, sat as well. “Was it taken?”

“It was destroyed. A Targaryen had a dream, D… Daenys had a dream. She had foresaw the destruction. But I have no way to know if it was true, I do not know if Valyria still stands or if any Targaryens remain to rule the skies.”

(Y/n) looked up to the ceiling, closing her eyes to remember how Valyria was described. “To be home. I would give my life just to see it.”

“…May you find your way home, dragon rider… And safely.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[ironmandeficiency]

stupid goose

pairing: fíli / hobbit!reader

word count: 2953

summary: a goose followed fili into erebor and refused to leave

a/n: this has taken over my brain

no one knew where that damn demon bird came from. all anyone knew is that when fíli returned from the markets of dale one day, he was trailed by a goose. this goose demanded in very angry honks to be let into erebor right behind the golden prince, and despite every attempt made to shoo the thing outside, the goose remained.

it honked during council meetings, entertained some of the young pebbles that had returned to erebor with their families, and generally caused a disturbance everywhere it waddled. fíli took to naming his new pet trøbbel, and he grew to appreciate the feathered chaos harbinger.

thorin couldn’t stand the damn thing. it would flap and honk and nip at him at the most odd times, namely when he was scolding his nephews. the king under the mountain was halfway convinced that fíli trained it to behave so.

the days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and trøbbel stuck around through it all. he was a common companion, and a very proper one indeed. eventually he learned some semblance of patience; the standard amount of patience in geese was alarmingly similar to the patience of dwarves.

trøbbel definitely lived up to his name, so much so that when bilbo sent word that he was planning a springtime visit to the mountain in a few months’ time, multiple correspondents thought it fit to warn their burglar about the newest addition.

“dear bilbo,

the company is delighted to hear of your pending visit to the mountain! many things have changed for the better since uncle was crowned king (not his temper, unfortunately for us all). everyone is looking forward to seeing you again, though i do carry a warning with this letter.

you see, a few months ago i involuntarily acquired a wild goose as a companion. he made himself known to me after leaving dale one afternoon and rather violently refused to be parted from my side.

this goose is a mighty beast that honks and bites diplomats (dwalin never loved him more than when he nipped at thranduil upon first glance of the elf) and steals food from the plates of those not paying attention. i warn you because trøbbel is very suspicious of new people, and i don’t want you falling victim to his wiles if he finds that you don’t have snacks for him upon arrival.

see you soon,

prince fíli”

bilbo was baffled. he was confuddled, stupefied even. how in yavanna’s green gardens fíli ended up with a goose was beyond his reckoning. the last time he heard of a goose forcing its way into someone’s life in this manner was being told the story of how his parents met when he was a wee fauntling.

it was a somewhat rare phenomenon among hobbits to be found by a goose in such a way. they were said to guide hobbits to their soulmates, the other half of their soul as created by lady yavanna. the goddess had to create an animal stubborn enough to aid her hobbit children in finding their soulmates, one that could easily navigate the hills and rivers of their lands, and the goose was her solution.

even though erebor was no west farthing, bilbo could imagine that any goose worth its tail feathers would find a way to survive in the lonely mountain. and, based on the letter he just read, one has.

taking into consideration the thing’s audacity, that bird of fíli’s is definitely a soulmate goose, and a right bugger at that.

the first thing he now had to do was inform fortinbras of this development. as thain and cousin, bilbo was sure that he could find some sound advice there.

now, if bilbo could figure out how to explain that fíli has a hobbit for a soulmate without putting thorin and balin into their deathbeds, that would be just peachy.

“HONK! HONK HONK!”

“i cannot believe you, tansy!”

“HONK!”

“yeah you better run, you wretched thing!”

tansy the goose had to be the biggest pain in the backside you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something considering the run-ins you’ve had with the bracegirdles.

she followed you to the markets, when you went on walks among the meadows and fields, and even snuck into the washroom to be there when you bathed. in your opinion, it was all a bit too much.

your tansy gave the wizard gandalf a run for his money when it came to disturbing the peace. on days you went to the market, she would follow you and honk all the way at passersby and intimidate them off the dirt path you were on.

she also picked up a very peculiar habit of trying to (and sometimes succeeding to) snag fine jewelry from the booths of dwarrow traveling through from the blue mountains. every time you would turn and see a shiny glint of silver or gold hanging from her beak, your heart would drop to your feet in fear. thus far, the merchants you’ve encountered were very understanding of your feathery thief and harbored no ill will against you as you returned their wares to the tune of an angry goose.

while those situations were mortifying and anxiety-inducing, you’ve reached the end of your rope today. tansy has committed a grievous sin by brutalizing your blackberry patch to the point of there being almost nothing left worth eating and you’ve had it up to your ears with her.

you chased her with a wooden spoon as you ranted about her foul deed and resolved to talk to someone about what to do about tansy the chaos goose. maybe the thain would have some advice?

“uncle! we’ve got a reply from bilbo!” kíli waved the letter in the air excitedly as he barged into his uncle’s chambers.

fíli follows kíli in, rolling his eyes as he snatches the parchment from his brother’s hand. “no, i got a reply from bilbo.”

the golden prince makes no mention of the second page bilbo wrote to him with explicit instructions to keep it to himself. that morsel of information was for him and him alone - well, for him and trøbbel, of course.

“hurry up and read it!”

“i would if you’d stop flapping about like trøbbel!”

in response to being compared to kíli (or maybe just hearing his name), trøbbel honked indignantly.

“dearest fíli,

it pleases me greatly to know that erebor is flourishing under your uncle’s rule. i am most excited to see you all again, especially in the comforts of your home.

while i thank you for your warning, i have some news of my own to share. there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip-“

thorin cut off his nephew, his bright mood upon receiving bilbo’s correspondence immediately clouding over. “he’s bringing a hobbit lass?” the king’s thoughts immediately sour with thoughts of his burglar introducing the company to a spouse wooed by his tales of adventure.

both brothers caught the sudden wave of melancholy that surged through their uncle. his feelings for bilbo were a poorly-kept secret among the company, but there were none who had the courage to call attention to it.

“you’re almost as bad as kee with interrupting me,” fíli chastised before clearing his throat to continue.

“-there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip that shares in your feathered predicament. with the description you gave me of your trøbbel, i’d bet all of my fourteenth share that he’d get along swimmingly with her tansy. she’s a menace, that one.”

“see uncle, you can remove that frown! bilbo isn’t courting anyone back in the shire!” kíli interjected with a small smile and an elbow nudge, hoping to goad thorin back into a good mood.

fíli sighed the sigh of a long-suffering older brother. “this is exactly what i mean when i talk about you interrupting me, kee!”

“but he was sad!”

“and i’m annoyed!”

“boys!”

one word put the squabbling siblings back in line.

“sorry, uncle.”

“do continue, fíli.”

“i send this letter ahead of me from bree. i hope you receive it in proper time so you can prepare the mountain for the impending doom that will be brought upon by two geese occupying erebor.

if you note the bite marks in bottom right corner and the occasional blots of stray ink on the parchment, those are courtesy of tansy. she sends her well wishes along with mine.

your burglar,

bilbo baggins”

thorin looks at trøbbel where he’s squatted directly on top of thorin’s favorite bedpillow like the cruel beast he is. the smug bastard has a wicked gleam in his eye as if he knows he’ll soon have a partner in crime to terrorize the whole mountain alongside.

oh mahal, please watch over this mountain.

erebor was teeming with anticipation, both for the arrival of the famed dragonriddler and for the next act of war from trøbbel. for nigh on three weeks, the royal bird has been eerily well-behaved. this was so out of character that fíli carried his companion to óin in the hopes the healer could figure out what malady had struck his friend.

there was nothing obvious to blame for the sudden silence of the royal bird, so the healer told fíli to watch over his bird and take as good care of him as possible.

he didn’t know much of anything about geese, so he simply opted to treat his companion like kíli when he was sick.

a cozy new bed was constructed, fíli monitored his food, and things seemed to be getting better. trøbbel slowly came back to his regular gremlin self, causing chaos that was mildly tamer than before.

at least the mountain didn’t get too comfortable without his shenanigans, because when bilbo arrived with his companion and their goose, all hell broke loose.

“hmm,” bilbo hummed to himself as he observed tansy sitting demurely on her designated pillow. she’d been oddly calm today, as if she knew where her company was going.

when bilbo explained the significance of tansy’s appearance in your life, you were flabbergasted. the idea of true soulmates was a sweet one yet painfully unrealistic in your eyes, something you read in bedtime stories. but with both bilbo and thain fortinbras’s confirmation that you received a soulmate goose from yavanna, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

then bilbo claimed he knew your soulmate and had fought alongside him against trolls and goblins and orcs and a dragon. he told you that he was rather fond of the dwarves of erebor, and that they were rambunctious and honorable.

but when he spoke of king thorin, the uncle of your soulmate, something was decidedly different from how he spoke of the rest of the company he kept. you could see the way his body visibly relaxed, how his eyes were softer and the appearance of pink on the tips of his ears.

your friend clearly held something more than respect for the dwarf king.

one night around the campfire, you told tansy about your suspicions. for a hooligan goose, she was a rather good conversationalist.

“i think bilbo loves that king of his, tansy.”

“HONK!”

“exactly! that’s what i was thinking!”

tansy honks back in response. living among hobbits, she seemed to pick up on some social etiquettes and right now, it was as if you were pleasantly chatting over afternoon tea.

you pondered what to do about this new development. bilbo was always seen as a bachelor, someone unattainable by shire standards. but just maybe, by the grace of yavanna, he’ll find his love in the heart of a king.

“say tansy,” a soft honk of acknowledgement came from your goose, “when you’re done leading me to my soulmate, can you help bilbo find his?”

in years to come, you will swear by the fact tansy nodded at you that evening by the fire.

“they’re here!”

“bilbo!”

“our burglar has returned!”

in the distance, they could see bilbo making his way towards the front entrance of erebor and unbridled joy swept through the company. how they’ve all missed their burglar in his absence from the mountain.

bard was walking alongside bilbo, who had dismounted from his pony when he entered dale and was guiding him along by the reins. at bilbo’s other side was another hobbit, presumably the lass he mentioned in his letter, and waddling with pride beside them was a goose wearing a red ribbon tied into a neat bow.

fíli made a break for the front gates as soon as the horn announcing bilbo’s arrival echoed through the crisp air. he genuinely missed bilbo and was plenty excited to meet the goose (and the hobbitess) described in his letters.

trøbbel dutifully followed behind his dwarf, waddling just fast enough to keep pace. at first. but in the distance, the royal goose of erebor heard a honk that resonated so deeply in him that he couldn’t dawdle with fíli, he had to go immediately.

his orange webbed feet pitter-pattered on the stone floors with the intensity of oliphaunts and the speed of rhosgobel rabbits, honking all the way. members of the company hollered after the speeding goose but trøbbel paid them no heed, far too focused on his destination.

“oi! trøbbel you mangy beast, get back here!”

“you ain’t beatin’ us to our burglar!”

the dwarves stood no chance at catching him, only following behind him like goslings in a rather lopsided row. apparently, trøbbel was going to beat them.

tansy was going to turn you grey long before your time if she had anything to say about it.

that wild beast of a bird strutted into dale with the attitude of the most pretentious hobbits in the west farthing, catching all sorts of strange looks from the big folk who never beheld such a human-acting animal. she honked and nodded to the growing crowd in greeting. you sighed at her antics but carried on, watching as bilbo’s entire countenance changed the closer he got to his dwarrow.

watching the entrance to the dwarven kingdom grow ever closer, you felt strangely lighter, almost as if you were coming home.

before you knew it, there was a stampede of dwarrow emerging from the front gates headed straight towards you and bilbo, led by a goose. logic told you that they were his friends from the journey, that they missed him more than you could imagine missing anyone.

but then tansy let out a screeching honk unlike anything you’ve ever heard in all your days. she immediately bolted for the feathered line leader, not even the slightest bit worried about being trampled by the pounding feet of dwarrow.

“tansy! tansy! oh you reckless fiend, you’re lucky i didn’t cook you on the way here!”

chasing after her was a terrible idea. instead, you elected to watch from beside your pony and hope for the best.

recalling bilbo’s stories, you could point out a few of his companions. bombur with his braided beard that weaves into itself, nori with the star points atop his head, thorin with his raven-colored hair…

the king of erebor was running like a hooligan towards bilbo at full speed, a wide smile on his face that bilbo led you to believe was a nigh impossible feat.

you nudge your friend with a smile, wondering why his feet weren’t going a mile a minute to reunite with his dwarf. “go to him,” you whispered. this seemed to spur him into action, bilbo making a mad dash for his king.

when thorin caught bilbo in a leaping embrace, their laughter was infectious. even tansy was honking joyously with them, echoed by another bit of loud honking you couldn’t place.

looking over, your tansy was nuzzling with the ereborian goose. they were waddling around each other inquisitively at first, then plopped down to the side of the path to watch the joyous reunion of king and burglar.

within moments, you realized what this meant: your soulmate was on his way. oh green gardens, you weren’t ready!

meeting your prince soulmate now, after a ragged journey across middle earth while covered in yavanna-knows-what, had your nerves vibrating with tension. your hands were clammy, eyes flitting around to spot him based on bilbo’s descriptions.

“trøbbel! oi you bugger, how dare you run ahead!”

you heard one voice clearly through the thicket of joyous bustling, and the entire world came to a screeching halt.

your soulmate wore a smile that could have blinded you, and his laughter put you in a tailspin. in the golden light of morning, his hair shone like the wheat fields you grew up playing in.

you had to be closer to him without another moment’s delay.

without your permission, your feet began to carry you into the growing crowd of dwarrow towards fíli. part of you wanted to dig your heels into the dirt because you didn’t know what to say to him! how did one even begin to introduce themselves to the person that the gods made to be their other half?

turns out you didn’t have to answer that question on your own.

in the time he spent on the road with bilbo, fíli learned quite a few pieces of important information about hobbits. they valued their food and their gardens, and placed great importance on flowers and their meanings. so when presented with his hobbit soulmate, he knew exactly how to make a good first impression.

presenting you a few sprigs of purple lilacs, he approached his one with a charming smile. “i imagine you’re starving from the trip here, love. would you like me to fetch you a warm meal straight from the royal kitchens?”

[bluepickle36]

I watched the hobbit trilogy (the theatrical version) over the last several days and I can now say fairly that they are terrible.

And I'm not just talking about the addition of Azog and Tauriel.

[a word of warning: this got looong]

An Unexpected Journey is really not that bad. It sticks to the books (for the most part. Obviously Azog isn't in the books but I'll talk about him later.) and it even includes the songs. I don't think I'll ever forget the misty mountains song; it's beautiful. The humming harmony to Thorin's singing is amazing and the additional singing voices in the chorus and the way they fall in and out and only come in on certain phrases is something I don't have the words to describe. I like how the riddle game was done and I think the twin natures Smeagol and Gollum were neat. (I know they're in lotr but the idea that Smeagol and Gollum have been in conflict since the finding of the ring has never occurred to me and I find it interesting.) I like how in the beginning Thorin is skeptical of Bilbo and how by the end of Unexpected Journey he has grown to trust him and considers him a friend.

What I don't like is Azog. I think he's an interesting character and all but his design especially bothers me. He is more reminiscent of a man and less like an orc. He makes me think of the Uruk-Hai from lotr but the Uruk-Hai were created by Saruman. They didn't exist during the Hobbit. The orcs in the Hobbit are more like the lotr orcs in Moria. The orcs in Moria chase the Fellowship but seem to do it in a more animalistic way. They are sentient, yes, but they are less intelligent and more like pack animals than the Uruk-Hai. I guess Azog just seems too smart to me? I don't know if that makes any sense but he really just feels too much like an Uruk-Hai and they're not around yet and that bothers me. Azog is redundant of Lurtz. The addition of his character does make narrative sense and add to the story in some aspects but I really think the movie would have been fine without him.

All in all I think Unexpected Journey wasn't that bad and that was what prompted me to watch the other two movies.

Unfortunately, they make Unexpected Journey look perfect.

Let's start with The Desolation of Smaug. In the beginning of the movie the Company takes refuge in Beorn's house, chased by Beorn himself, which is weird. Is he supposed to be under a curse or something where his bear form is evil? (because that's definitely not in the book.)

Then there's the spiders, and the elves are introduced. I think the addition of Legolas to the Hobbit is definitely intriguing, but it just feels like a forced tie-in to the lotr films. Maybe if it was just a cameo (perhaps we see him in the party that rescues the dwarves as a background character, or perhaps we see the tail end of a conversation between Legolas and Thranduil later on) it would be better.

And where to start about Tauriel. She isn't in the books, even as a minor background character, and she adds nothing to the plot except a weird love triangle with Legolas and Kili that is absolutely pointless and takes up screen time which could have been used for something else.

Like Dol Guldur. Like I said, I watched the theatrical version, but I have seen the extended Dol Guldur scenes and the way the theatrical version was cut makes it seem incredibly rushed, especially given the extensive build-up to it.

Also what's up with Galadriel and Gandalf? They're represented as having an almost romantic relationship, but Galadriel is MARRIED to Celeborn!! Nothing in the books, the hobbit or the lotr, implies that there's anything between Galadriel and Gandalf. Poor Celeborn. Does he know his wife is off cavorting about with a Maia?

Then there's the chase down the river. This whole sequence is dumb. In the books the dwarves just float down the river and wash up on the lakeshore. In the movie they're discovered almost immediately and then attacked by orcs? And then Legolas and Tauriel save them and just...let them go? Why don't the elves kill the orcs and recapture the dwarves?

I do like what was done with Bard's character. Obviously he had to be fleshed out a little for the movie since he's a minor character for most of the book (except where he kills Smaug, obviously, but that's really an exception). Making him a poor single father while maintaining the only real description he's given in the book (a doomsayer whose dour predictions are ignored by most of the town) is one of the few good decisions made on these movies.

Then Tauriel and Legolas save the dwarves again (granted, only four of them, but still). Tauriel heals Kili in a painfully obvious parallel to Arwen healing Frodo that never truly comes to fruition. Legolas does some fancy fighting moves.

(Side note: WHY DOES HE HAVE CREEPY CONTACTS? There was nothing wrong with his brown eyes and the blue just makes him look overly intense and deranged.)

The way Sauron as the Necromancer easily overpowers Gandalf I thought was a very neat way to tie‐in the lotr. Gandalf sends the Fellowship because he knows he's not powerful enough to stand against Sauron himself. He raises up Aragorn and Frodo because he isn't powerful enough to do it himself. He's learned that here, when he acknowledges to Radagast that Dol Guldur is a trap and then walks right into it thinking he can stand alone. Granted, he sends Radagast for Galadriel, but he believes he can hold Sauron off long enough for help to arrive. In lotr, he doesn't even attempt such a thing. He puts his hope in others' strength: Frodo to carry the ring to Mordor, Aragorn to distract Sauron, the Rohirrim and Ents to destroy Saruman, the rest of the Fellowship to assist and support.

(It could be argued that he was wrong to allow Boromir to join the Fellowship, but that is a discussion for another day.)

The entire chase scene with Smaug is very cool but I don't understand why Smaug would have turned away from Thorin on the bridge to chase the other dwarves. I would think Smaug would kill Thorin first before he goes after the others. Thorin is the main danger- he's the King Under the Mountain, the one who started the quest. I don't think the entire quest would fall apart without him at this point; they've come too far for that. I do think Thorin's death at this point would seriously demoralize them, though. (I get why Smaug was distracted [plot armor], it just doesn't make sense to me in-universe.)

The death of Smaug was amazing both in the acting and in the cinematography. Where was Legolas though? He and Tauriel hadn't yet left the town, since Tauriel helps the dwarves escape. Did he decide to take after his father and just sit and watch without bothering to help?

Dol Guldur, again, seems very rushed. I'm still not sure if that's because I've seen the extended Dol Guldur scenes or if the sequences simply are rushed. Saruman fighting for the good guys was interesting to see, since he's only ever evil in lotr and merely alluded to in the hobbit book. Galadriel being the only one capable of standing against Sauron but unable to do anything against the Nazgul is weird. If she's stronger than Saruman and Elrond, why were they able to fight the Nazgul while she collapsed?

Thranduil rolling his eyes when Gandalf tries to warn him and Bard of the incoming orcs was absolutely hilarious and a hint at the fact that, even though most of the characters in these movies respect Gandalf as a wise wizard, there are also those who think he is only a stormcrow.

Then there was the actual battle between the five armies. What were the worm things Azog used to get his army to the battlefield? I have never seen mention of them in any of the lotr or hobbit books. And how did Azog get the windmill thingy set up on the hill without anyone noticing?

The scene where Thorin realizes what he has become was well-done, as was the scene where Kili stands up to him. Kili's finally had enough of sitting and letting others die; he finally had the courage to confront his uncle. I thought that was an interesting character development.

The charge of the dwarves, the way they rallied to their King, and then the elves coming to their aid are precisely the sort of epic action I started this trilogy expecting.

Then Thorin takes Fili and Kili with him to kill Azog, who has explicitly stated- and proven by his actions- his desire to end the bloodline of Durin, of which Fili and Kili are a part. Why did Thorin make this decision? He should know that Azog wants all three of them dead. I know the brothers aren't kids and would argue to come with him, but still. Doesn't he want to protect them as much as he can? (Especially since Fili is his heir. Not only does this not really make familial sense, it also doesn't make tactical sense.)

Azog killing Fili in front of his brother and uncle just proves his cruelty all over again. That scene hurt to watch.

Legolas fighting Bolg really showcases the superhuman ability of the elves.

Then Thorin dies. I was happy the filmmakers at least included him making peace with Bilbo before he dies.

But why, WHY, does Thranduil tell Legolas to go find a Dunedain ranger who goes by the name of Strider? At this point in time, Aragorn is about 10, living in Rivendell, and being called Estel. He doesn't even know he's the King. The nickname Strider doesn't come into being until he is in the vicinity of Bree. ("'Round here, folks call him Strider.") Does Legolas just show up at Imladris, looking for a Dunedain? Does Elrond shake his head at the ridiculous antics of the King of Mirkwood, point at the child playing with Glorfindel, and tell Legolas that's who he's here for?

The auction scene was funny, though.

The actors/actresses did an AMAZING job. At no point did I think, well that's obviously an actor, which I have done with other movies. All the characters were sold. The soundtrack, with all the little hints and callbacks to the lotr trilogy, is absolutely brilliant. I think the main problem with these movies is all the extraneous material. Cut out Azog and Tauriel (and maybe Legolas, because he really feels like a namedrop), combine the second two movies, leave the extended Dol Guldur scenes, and voila. Perfection.

(I've heard it said that Peter Jackson wasn't given as much freedom with the hobbit trilogy as he was with the lotr trilogy. If this is true, then it's a shame. He did so well with the lotr, he should have been allowed to do the same with the hobbit.)

If you made it all the way here, thank you for reading my Very Long Rant.

[johnmurphysgirl]

A THOUSAND SUNSETS; chapter One ((if you’d prefer to read it on AO3 click here

THE ARKENSTONE IS WEIGHTED IN GUILT; a reminder of his treachery. The stillness of the night brings forth images in Bilbo’s mind, and he can almost see the despair lining Thorin’s face when he inevitably finds out what Bilbo had done. By then, it will be too late. By then, Bilbo will have returned with their new alliance secured and it’ll all be worth it. Surely. Even Thorin will see the inevitability of it all, the rightness of it all. His thoughts taunt him. Of course Thorin will see it as nothing more than the treacherous act it is. The hobbit can almost feel Thorin’s eyes boring into his own, a deep icy pool of endless questions; why? his eyes would say, not you, anyone but you. Why would you do this to me? —

The look on his face would tell Bilbo it would have been far better, preferable, even, if he’d shoved Sting into his back. Not this, this betrayed this – Bilbo physically pulls himself forward, catching himself just in time before he falls in the darkness. No. No. The thoughts are final as the hobbit shakes his head ridiculously, his hand on his chin and he shudders. He’s saving Thorin. From himself, but saving him all the same. The look, the gleam in Thorin’s eyes when discussing the arkenstone, the resolve to send the other dwarrow down into the golden hoard doing nothing but searching. Endless searching.

Thorin will forgive him. Maybe.

“You, bowman! Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?”

Gandalf. Bilbo could cry in relief, but he stifles it in the nick of time, and slowly sneaks past a couple of laketown guards.

“It won’t come to that,” Bard replies. “This is a fight they cannot win.”

There’s still a chance to turn back, a voice that sounds startlingly like Thorin’s whispers in his mind. He’s invisible. There’s still a chance to return to Thorin’s side as loyal as he’d left; Bilbo still has time to give Thorin the arkenstone in hopes it’ll stave off the dragon sickness. The dwarf king will honor his word. Surely – but no. Bilbo knows in his heart of hearts that Thorin would still choose to turn them away rather than part with a single coin in that mountain. You don’t have to do this. Yes. He does.

Bilbo takes the ring off his finger and places it in his pocket, patting it for good measure.

“No,” Bilbo says, and he’s spurred on by the relief and then an indescribable emotion spreads across the wizard's eyes, before it’s gone. “You haven’t seen him. He’s.. He’s changed.” His voice breaks on the last word before he shakes his head, visibly flinching. “He’s changed,” he repeats and he thanks Yavanna his voice is steadier this time. “Take me to Thranduil. I will share what I know and what I possess only with all three of you together.”

Thorin.

His heart twinges painfully full of longing, yearning. Bilbo doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he’s so torn over one dwarfs opinion of him, but he has thought of it in the highest regard ever since he saved Thorin’s life. Which feels many moons ago, now. Ever since Thorin hugged him and held him and told him he’d never been wrong in all his life, and then suddenly Thorin’s opinion matters. Suddenly, Bilbo could think of no one else. Not his books, his arm chair, or his home in Bag-End. Nothing else but Thorin.

He’d almost told him. The memory nearly sends Bilbo into a fit, but he forces himself to remember it.

The acorn grazed his fingers as he turned it over and over again in his palm. He’d kept it ever since he’d found it in Beorn's garden, and he’s tried ever since to find the bravery and the time to give it to Thorin. Bilbo hoped Thorin would plant it in Erebor, once they reclaimed it. A token. Not of friendship, at least that’s not what the Hobbit wanted from it; something more, more solidifying, and something that caused a crimson blush to spread across his cheeks, even now.

He’d turned the acorn over for the twentieth time when an angry demand filled his ears, and almost guiltily he turned towards Thorin and scrambled to his feet. The demand reached his ears again. Thorin wanted him to hold out his hands and show him, and if Bilbo wouldn’t have been frightened by the insanity Thorin was speaking, he’d have been more guilty knowing what it is he keeps in his pocket.

“It’s an acorn.” Bilbo scrambled to say something, anything. He held the acorn in his palm out towards Thorin, and was momentarily taken aback by the smile from him. No sunset could compare. Nothing compared to the smile he’d been gifted.

“An acorn,” Thorin repeated, bemused. “To think, master burglar, you have a promised share of the gold and you hold onto an acorn.” He shook his head fondly. “Hobbits.”

Bilbo had smiled. For a moment, Thorin had looked like Thorin, and he’d opened his mouth. “Thorin, I..” I love you, he thought, will you plant this? If.. if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll keep my acorn and..

But he never got a chance.

If he’d finished the sentence. If Dwalin hadn’t interrupted them, then maybe, possibly… It doesn’t matter. Bilbo made his choice. He takes a deep breath and enters the tent which holds the Elvenking, a newfound confidence brews in the pit of his chest when Gandalf lays a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Gandalf knows everything. The grey wizard is more wise than all of Arda as far as Bilbo is concerned, and his blue eyes twinkle with understanding. It would not surprise Bilbo if Gandalf knew all along what the hobbit would come to feel for the King under the Mountain.

*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀

Thranduil had looked positively overjoyed at what Bilbo had done, a mockery behind the smirk of the Elvenking, and if Bilbo had thought of anyone else other than Thorin that attitude right there would have had him taking it back. He’d never seen such cruelty from Elves. Perhaps Lord Elrond is truly one of his kind. Tauriel hadn’t been bad, especially when she’d begun to fall in love with Kili; but Thranduil.

Bilbo is nearly thrown into rage just thinking of that blonde Elf. The audacity – Bilbo takes deep breaths. He’s forgetting himself here. Forgetting that the missing weight of the arkenstone seemed to weigh the most, forgetting that Erebor leans ever closer, and he has to walk in there and pretend he didn’t just betray them. The stillness of night twinkles with dread. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There was still time to turn back, snatch the arkenstone from the Elvenking’s surprised fingers, and return it to Thorin’s if only to be smiled at for the rest of his life – scream how he felt to the roof.

As if everyone didn’t know. As if he hadn’t been read like an open book the minute he started developing feelings for the Dwarf King. As if Bilbo could forget how Balin had looked at him when he’d asked, pleaded, to know if giving Thorin the arkenstone would save him from the madness. A pitiful look crossed the old dwarfs face when he shook his head, saying no, laddie, it would only make it worse.

By Yavanna.

He hangs his head lowly as he climbs back up the rampart, staring into the night like a thief. Tomorrow what he’d done will be revealed, and maybe it was stupid. Maybe he’s stupid for climbing back up here, knowing that he betrayed them, and knowing Thorin will soon look at him with hatred and betrayal –

Bilbo sighs.

He did it for him. He’s saving the man he loves, and damn it, even if he winds up killed for it, at least he’ll have saved them all.

CHAPTER TWO

[nightfall-writer]

"Over a Stupid Rock"

A/N: Sorry for the Author notes on the last two imagines! I am using a prompt (which will be in bold below) although I did not come up with it. Creativepromptsforwriting did and I thought it would be good to use it for Thorin or Thranduil. If you guys want a Thranduil version later I will write one! This is a longer than the last one.

Link to Creative’s profile: https://www.tumblr.com/creativepromptsforwriting

Thorin x Reader

Word count: 504

Warnings: Slight Angst, Dragon sickness, Thorin doesn’t say if he likes the reader back or not

You liked Thorin since you were in Beorn's house. At first, you didn't mind him, he kept to himself except for talking to some of the other dwarves. You enjoyed the company of the other dwarves even though you weren’t with them at the loss of their home. Everything was going smoothly until Smaug was defeated. That’s when Thorin changed, the other dwarves didn’t seem to notice much at first. You and Bilbo thought at least until you talked to Balin. “Dragon sickness” Balin starts, “I’ve seen it before. That look. The terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, It sent his grandfather mad.” He sighs.

“Are you sure?” You ask, “Positive” Balin states. “Balin, If Thorin, had the Arkenstone, or if it was found, would it help?” Biblo asks. “That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness? No, laddie. I fear it would make him worse. Perhaps it is best, it remains lost” Balin says. You start looking at Bilbo before walking away. You sigh as you hear Bilbo calling for you, “Yes Bilbo?” you ask. “Where are you going?” He replied. “I’m going to talk to him, I know it might not do much but it's worth a shot,” you say. “Very well, I wish you luck He is not the easiest to talk to at the moment,” Bilbo replies. You shake your head and leave going to find Thorin.

“Thorin! Can we talk for a minute” You ask after finally finding him. He’s where you should've known him to be, Looking over his gems as others look for the Arkenstone. “What is it?” he says a bit coldly. “Erm, We’ve been searching for a while now, perhaps we should take a break?” You ask. “No, we shall keep looking til it is found. Perhaps someone stole it.” He states. “Stole? Thorin these people are basically your family! None of them would steal it.” you say a bit too quickly. “Perhaps you stole it” He stares at you after he says it. You look at him in complete disbelief that he would even accuse you.

 “Me? Why on earth would I want it?” you say a bit loud. “Perhaps you want the riches for yourself!” He yells and turns completely at you. “At your Betrayal, please!” you say. “Why wouldn’t you, Why would you care about me!?” He asks loudly. “I-” you start but cannot bring yourself to finish the sentence. “I’m listening” he states after a few seconds of you not saying anything. “I like you Thorin.” You say not making eye contact. He chuckles a bit making you look at him. “Can’t blame you, I’m pretty awesome” He says, You scoff and look at him. “I cannot believe how low you’ve gotten over a stupid rock.” You say and turn away and leave. You hear him get upset but before he can say anything you turn the corner and continue to walk.

[obsidiancreates]

The Second Chance Of The Third Age (Part 3)

One more surprise does come, before the night is even ended. The food is eaten, the 

table littered with dishes, and the washing up positively monstrous in scale.

But Bilbo merely sits back and lights his pipe. “Well, I expect a show like last time.” He gestures at Thorin. “You missed it before, but I hope you’ll join in this one.”

“What?” Thorin barely has the word out before his grinning nephews grab him by the elbows and drag him out of his seat, Kili beginning to sing.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks-”

Dishes are thrown, flung, and whipped about the smial as Bilbo sits and listens with a bright smile, making smoke rings as targets in Gandalf the shock-ridden wizard’s stead! Thorin laughs when he realizes what’s happening, sparing no time in joining as he easily falls into the well-oiled theatrics with his nephews and friends.

Last time had been a somber start, and this new life has even more somber times to come. But here, and now, it’s renewal. 

“THAT’S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!”

Bilbo himself joins in the last shout, eyes sparkling. Thorin shakes his head at the song, but he’s smiling as well- he wishes he could’ve seen Bilbo’s reaction to the song in the first life. He can imagine the sputtering, the offensive, the shock when nothing breaks and all ends up clean and washed…

“You’re staring, Uncle,” Kili says, voice quiet but expression smug.

“As I’m allowed,” Thorin says. Bilbo looks his way, and rolls his eyes, gesturing for Thorin to walk over.

“I lived to be so old I can’t even remember the age,” Bilbo says when Thorin is close. “Old enough to get a lot of clarity on some things. Like how a Mithril shirt is a little more than a gift of friendship. And I know they picked up on it, I saw the coins, so let’s just make it official.”

“And how do you suggest we do?”

“For a start-” and Bilbo yanks Thorin into his lap and kisses him deeply. Thorin’s eyes are wide with shock at first, until he melts into it and leans up to kiss back.

It doesn’t last too long, Bilbo letting go and Thorin sitting back up, flushed. Bilbo rubs his arms. “Right, right, haven’t done much other than gardening with these arms yet.”

Thorin looks up, and huffs out a small laugh. “You’ve broken our wizard.”

Gandalf sits, choking silently on his smoke rings as Bifur frantically slaps his back. 

“We should get that axe out with the trolls this time,” Bofur says, watching Bifur just go to town on the poor wizard’s already suffering back. 

“We’re not going back there, are we?” Dori turns a little green just remembering the spinning on the spit.

“And leave behind swords from Gondolin?” Bilbo snips. “Sting won’t be rotting in a troll hoard if I can help it.”

“Troll hoard?!” Gandalf slaps Bifur’s hands away. “Gondolin?! How many magical artifacts of the bygone ages will we be collecting along this journey, Bilbo Baggins?”

“At least… let’s see. Ring, swords, does the Black Arrow count?”

“It’s only well-made, not magical.”

“Right. So Ring, swords, Arkenstone… it is magical, isn’t it?”

“There have been many debates since it’s discovery.”

“Well, I’m counting it. I think just those five items, then.”

Gandalf huffs. “Just those five-”

“Unless  we take a bit of extra time in Thranduil’s dungeons.” Thorin looks at Bilbowith what can only be described as Stoic, Stone-Faced Pleading.

“What part of One Ring of Sauron did you not understand? I won’t wear it unless I absolutely have to this time around, and that includes how long I’ll take in getting you all out.”

“Sorry, are we plannin’ to ge’ caught again?” Oin checks with his brother, who’s busy staring offended and disbelieving at Thorin. Oin elbows his brother. “Tell me my trumpe’ is clogged.”

“Of course we’re getting caught.” Kili smiles dreamily. “There’s someone I have to meet.”

“And, Legolas needs to have a push out of the Woodland realm,” Bilbo adds. “And frankly, so does Thranduil. Not to mention meeting Bard.”

“We should write this down.” Ori pulls the large notebook at his side out, as well as a bottle of ink and a quill. “Trolls for the swords… Rivendell for Elrond and Gandalf’s quest… Goblin Caves for The Ring-”

“I’ll have to do that alone, unfortunately.” Bilbo’s expression sours, his mouth pinching at the very thought. “There’s no telling if we’ll need Gollum before the end, and I can’t imagine he’d riddle with me with an army of dwarves beside me.”

“Even one?” Thorin is still sitting, mostly, in Bilbo’s lap.

“Even one.”

“Bilbo alone… should we kill Azog on the cliff?”

“We’ll certainly try,” Bilbo scoffs. “... Though that may change the outcome of The Battle drastically. They might try a different strategy…”

“We’ll try,” Thorin agrees. “And when I send word to Dain, I’ll know we face two armies of Orcs rather than Elves and Men. He’ll respond far differently to such a force.”

Ori nods. “So maybe for Azog… Beorn?”

“I’ll head that up, thank you,” Bilbo says. “And the signal will be decided before we sleep in his house, understand? Even if we take all night deciding on it.”

“Beorn… Mirkwood capture… oh, that means the spiders again! We’ll have to be caught by them!”

“In your dreams!” Nori pulls out a dagger and swipes up at an imagined and well-remembered foe. “I’ll have spider guts for breakfast first!”

“How about this time around I do what I told the children at parties? Sing an insulting song at the spiders to distract them.”

“Sing a song?”

“Trust me, it’ll get them very angry with me.”

“That’s no good, you’ll be caught too.”

“Ha!”

Ori ignores his brother and their burglar arguing and keeps writing. “Smuggled by Bard, arrested in Laketown, oh, avoid Kili getting shot with tha’ arrow… what else?”

“Dragon chase,” Balin says, tapping the book. 

“Well, no, we’re going to kill it this time.”

“Bilbo, even if we can, we need the men of Laketown in Dale to join The Battle.”

“But-”

“Wha’ about a warning?” Ori looks up. “Maybe we can ge’ them all to Dale before he burns Laketown?”

“Burns Laketown,” Gandalf mutters tiredly, slumped in his chair. “Arrested by Thranduil, burning Laketown- this is madness.”

“But it’s how it happened.” Bilbo sniffs, twitching his nose as he thinks. “We can’t just send him to them, not knowing what we do.”

“But we can’ change The Battle either, laddie,” Balin warns. “Not with what you plan to do with that Ring.”

“Aye, we need the Orc forces thinned,” Dwalin agrees. “War always has sacrifices, Bilbo.”

“I’m well aware!” Bilbo snaps it with such ferocious intensity that Dwalin’s hand twitches for a weapon, just for a second.

“... Maybe we get someone to lead them all to Dale but that Master and his people,” Fili suggests. He looks around to those who’d lived a long, long time after the Battle. “Remember them? We can get the good people out, leave those ones to make Smaug think the town is populated.”

“And Bard stays behind to kill Smaug how?” Dori peers at the page as Ori keeps noting down ideas. 

“Tell him it’s all a precaution?” Fili offers. “Or maybe we could ask Gandalf’s eagles for help.”

“The Eagles would never fly the same skies as a living dragon,” Gandalf says, listening to every word with increasing weariness. He knows how useless, and indeed how foolish, it would be to try and divert them from this path, if what Bilbo says about The Ring is true.

“Fine,” Kili says, “Then Fili and Bofur and I can stay behind again. How long did it take for the dragon to be woken before?”

“Not long enough,” Bilbo mumbles.

“Well, let’s figure out how long,” Kili says, looking at his brother, “And then you and I can lead everyone out right when it wakes up, and maybe convince Bard to use the Windlance this time to kill it.”

Fili grins at his brother and claps their fists together in a warrior’s handshake. “And with the dragon already woken, he’ll be driven by his family’s safety!”

“We won’ have a lo’ of time to ge’ away,” Bofur says, frowning as he remembers the speed at which the dragon descended on them. “A whole town…”

“Which is why we say we feel his waking hours before he comes out.” Fili looks at Thorin. “Men don’t know much about us, so we can just lie. Say we sense it somehow.”

“Use the ignorance of men against them.” Thorin nods. “It may work.”

Ori jots that all down, and then to finish simply writes ‘Battle- all live.’

“Right, well.” Bilbo gently nudges Thorin to get up. “We’ve got our plan, we’ve got our priorities, and we’ve got a long road ahead. I think it’s time to turn in.”

The Company all agree with great enthusiasm, and are soon all set up to sleep- Thorin and Bilbo seem to silently agree on sharing the master bedroom without so much as a hesitant look in the way of it.

Gandalf sits in the foyer, smoking among the sound of snoring dwarves, a fine headache steadily growing behind his eyes.

The One Ring found, in the hands of his own Bilbo Baggins, leeching into his soul. A dragon purposefully awoken, so that Sauron’s forces are thinned and the vile being himself may never again besiege Middle-Earth with his full wrath. A future once passed, now to be altered by the actions of merchants, miners, tinkerers, toymakers… and burglars.

… Has he not thought to himself, in the wee hours, that it’s the small things that keep the darkness at bay?

He leans back and pulls the brim of his hat low over his eyes. The fate of all of Middle-Earth in the hands of a hobbit…

It’s a thought he can make peace with.

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction.

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

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter Six: Broken Crown

We all knew this scene was coming.

so crawl on my belly ‘til the sun goes down, i’ll never wear your broken crown. i can take the road, and i can fuck it all away—but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate.

-Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons

The commotion on the rampart grows louder as you rush up the stairs, going as fast as your diminished stamina lets you. You arrive at the top with a gasping breath, seeing Thorin already holding Bilbo atop the wall, staring down at Gandalf approaching from the gathered troops.

“If you don’t like my burglar, please, don’t damage him!” he booms. “Return him to me.”

God bless that wizard, you think to yourself. God bless that fucking wizard and his timing.

“You’re not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?” Gandalf observes.

Thorin looks at him for another moment before letting Bilbo slip from his grasp. Balin and Fíli help him to his feet. The hobbit flings a rope over the wall, Bofur pushing him forward urgently, and scurries down.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards,” Thorin shouts. “Or Shire-rats!”

You flinch at the venom in his words. Thorin’s eyes find you lurking by the wall. “What?” he demands, storming forward. “Do you have something to say?”

He’s nose-to-nose with you, daring you to defy him. You search his face, hardly recognizing the dwarf who who begrudgingly accepted you into his Company, who shielded you from fire and wargs, who welcomed you into his family.

“This is wrong,” you whisper. “This isn’t you.”

Thorin is silent for a moment. “Then go,” he spits. “Go join your kin amongst Men. You are no Durin.”

Though you know his mind is twisted by the dragon-sickness, it doesn’t soften the blow against your heart. The other dwarves look at you in dismay.

After a moment, your face hardens, and you stand tall, standing exactly level with Thorin. “Fuck this,” you say quietly, pushing past him, rougher than necessary, towards the rope. “I’m not dying over a fucking rock.”

He sneers at you and turns on his heel to storm back into the keep. The dwarves pat your arm firmly as they pass, Balin squeezing your shoulders. “Be careful,” he murmurs.

Fíli and Kíli stay put, looking at you helplessly. Kíli grips Fíli’s arm. “Fíli…” he trails off.

Fíli turns to his brother. They stare at one another wordlessly, then he grabs Kíli’s hair and pulls their foreheads together, whispering something in Khuzdûl.

Kíli nods, pulls back, and wraps you in a tight hug. “Be safe, little sister.” He withdraws and starts down the stairs, turning back one last time before vanishing.

It’s just you and Fíli on the wall now, watching the backs of Thranduil and Bard’s troops as they make for their camp. Tiny flakes of snow speckle Fíli’s armor, and his breath billows out in frosty clouds.

“Now what?” he asks.

Your mind whirls. In the book, the Durin clan dies standing together. In the movies, they die standing alone. I don’t know if I can save them all, you think, but I know can save one.

“Come with me,” you urge, grabbing Fíli’s arm.

He tenses. “Y/N, I… I can’t just leave him… I’m his heir, the crown prince—it’d be the highest betrayal!”

You lean in close. “He’ll forgive you for leaving,” you whisper in his ear, voice trembling. “But I won’t forgive you for staying.”

“He’s family,” Fíli pleads.

Your heart twists in your chest, but you know you need to hit him where it hurts. You seize his hand and put it to your belly. “We are family too,” you insist. “Please, don’t leave me to raise our baby alone.”

Still, he hesitates.

One final weapon. “Fíli. If you stay, you die.”

Fíli’s eyes widen. “You said you’d never tell us our fates—you wouldn’t change the story!”

Your hold on his wrist tightens to a death grip. “I’m tired of pretending like I’m not part of this world,” you hiss. “I’m done acting like I’m not part of the story. I’m not going to let you die here, Fee.”

A look of anguish crosses his face. Your vision starts to swim with tears as Fíli looks from you, to the rope, to the doorway Thorin had stormed through, to your stomach. The anguish hardens to resolve, and he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says with a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright.” He shifts his belt so his sword is along his back and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, hoisting you onto his hip. “Hold on tight,” he grunts.

You cling to his neck and he grabs the rope, throwing a leg over the wall and slowly belaying down. Heights don’t normally bother you, but you bury your face in his shoulder, unable to look at the ground far beneath you. Your bag sways and bumps against your back with each of Fíli’s bounces downward. The descent lasts far too long, but at last you feel solid earth beneath your feet.

No sooner than you land does a hand seize your collar and pull you into the shadow of the wall. “What are you doing out here?” a voice hisses in your ear.

Tauriel! “I thought you were dead!” you choke out.

She releases you and Fíli, who grabs your upper arm tightly, ready to flee. Tauriel looks down at you grimly. “It will take more than dragon-fire to put an elf of Mirkwood down.” Her eyes shift to Fíli. “So, you abandon your kin, dorn?” [dwarf]

Fíli bristles, but you place a hand on his chest and push him behind you gently. “We need to get somewhere safe. Can you help us?”

Tauriel regards the pair of you with a measured gaze. “Is Kí—is your brother safe?”

Fíli nods, and Tauriel visibly relaxes. She looks back up at Erebor, then across the field in the distance where the white top of Thranduil’s tent is just barely visible in the quickly fading light. “Follow me. Quietly now, and swiftly.”

You make your way across the frozen ground until you come to a halt in front of a pair of elven guards. They seem astonished to find Tauriel standing before them, intact, if a bit charred. Nevertheless, they cross their spears to block your path. “Daro!” they cry in unison. [Stop!]

“We seek an audience with the king,” Tauriel explains.

“The king has no interest in communing with traitors,” one snaps. “Perhaps the gornoth will take pity on your plight.” [dwarves (derogatory)]

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward. “At least let us talk to Bard, or–”

“My goodness, could that be the voice of Lady Y/N that I hear?” A wizened hand sweeps open the tent flap and Gandalf steps out, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“Gandalf!” You duck under the spears and rush forward, throwing your arms around him in sheer relief.

Gandalf seems mildly surprised by the gesture and pats your back. He raises a bushy eyebrow when he notices Fíli, and pushes you back gently by your shoulder. “Does Thorin send you to parley?”

“No, we come of our own accord. To seek refuge,” Fíli adds, indicating your belly. He swallows. You know how hard this must be for the proud dwarf prince.

But as you await Gandalf’s response, it occurs to you now that he has no knowledge of you and Fíli’s relationship, and certainly not of your pregnancy. You hold your breath.

The wizard looks down at you, then back to Fíli with a frown. “Come in from the cold and we shall discuss this… development.” He ushers you inside, where Bard, Thranduil, and Bilbo sit at a small table.

The elven king is on his feet immediately. “Why have you brought a–” but his demand ends in a sputter when Tauriel enters behind you.

She meets the king’s eyes steadily and dips her head. “Your highness.”

A small smirk crosses Fíli’s lips at Thranduil’s stunned face.

Gandalf brings forward a small chair, gesturing for you to take a seat. You do so with a grateful smile. Fíli moves behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. You take one with a squeeze.

Gandalf sits as well, leaning forward with his hands folded. “Am I correct in assuming that…?” he waves a hand in Fíli’s general direction.

You swallow hard and nod. “Things… things happened.”

“And what of Thorin and Company?”

“We can reason with him,” Fíli cuts in. “Now that you have the stone, there’s some bargaining power, surely!”

“It’s dragon-sickness, Fee, there’s no reasoning with dragon-sickness!” you snap.

“Y/N?” It’s Bilbo. “Do you know what comes next?”

You frown and dig in your bag for The Hobbit. Thranduil and Tauriel exchange looks of confusion.

“It’s a… power of prophecy, of a sort,” you mumble, thumbing through the pages. “We’re only a few pages into chapter seventeen…” you trail off as a dark word consumes your mind. “Orcs!”

Thranduil leans forward. “What?”

“Orcs. That’s—that’s it, that’s all I can think about—fuck!” You bury your face in your hands. “I can’t see it. I’ve changed the story.” You take a deep breath. “Orcs are coming. I don’t know when, I don’t know how many, but they’re coming.”

Gandalf rises swiftly, retrieving his staff from the corner of the tent. “Then we must be ready. Is there any possibility of reasoning with Thorin?”

You rub your temples. “I can’t be sure. I think he recovers—maybe Fíli leaving will speed it up?”

Fíli flinches slightly.

The wizard nods. “Ready your troops. Be prepared for battle by dawn. We will not be caught unawares.”

Thranduil and Bard offer their agreement, Bard standing to leave for his own lodgings. He pauses, glancing at you and Fíli with a curt nod. “Congratulations.” With that, the archer is gone. Thranduil is swift to leave as well, Tauriel falling easily into place behind him.

“Someone needs to warn Thorin,” Fíli says. He places a hand on the hilt of his sword and makes for the exit, but you snag his wrist. He twists against your grasp, and you hold tight, fingers digging into his skin.

“You’re staying here,” you insist.

“I’ll go,” Bilbo says quietly.

Fíli scoffs. “They’d skewer you with an arrow as soon as you’re within sight of the gates.”

“Well, I did manage to sneak in and out of Erebor without a terrible dragon noticing,” Bilbo points out. “I think I can get past a few dwarves.”

The dwarf just snorts in response.

Gandalf regards the hobbit curiously, watching Bilbo’s fingers fidget in his pocket. “Very well then, Bilbo. As for the pair of you,” he raises an eyebrow in your direction, “I was just about to put on a pot of tea, and I believe Lady Y/N and her little one are sorely in need of some proper nourishment.” He dips his head and ducks out of the tent.

A long, shaking sigh escapes you. You lean against the back of the chair, weariness plaguing your bones. Fili returns to your side and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he separates out a thin section of your hair, carefully beginning to weave it into a braid.

You let out a small gasp, covering his hand with your own. “Fíli? Now?”

He smiles, gently pushing your hand aside and continuing. “If I’m to go into battle at dawn, I want everything to be proper.” The braid complete, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny, wooden bead with delicate etchings.

You take it from his outstretched hand. The wood is rough and unsanded, but you can make out a crude attempt at your and Fíli’s initials in English, as well as runes you vaguely recognize as Khuzdûl. You blush, not thinking your brief alphabet lesson ages ago had taken hold.

“I may have nicked your book to practice,” Fíli says with a wink. “Took me ages to get your silly runes right.” He folds your fingers around the bead and sinks to one knee in front of you—you didn’t think your human courtship lessons had taken hold either. His eyes sparkle as he gazes up at you. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes fill with tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Fíli grins and takes the bead back, securing it in your hair and kissing it gently. You yank him in by the collar and press your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, fingers tangling in your loose hair.

Applause from the corner makes you pull back with a jump. You had forgotten Bilbo was still in the tent. With a lopsided smile you stand and push the hobbit out towards Gandalf and the fire. “Give us some privacy!” you chide good-naturedly.

Fíli chuckles and rises as well, pulling you close. He kneels back down, lifting your tunic and kissing your stomach, making you flush even more. “You take care of your amad,” he whispers to the unborn dwarfling. “Adad’s got to go scout out the perfect place for our wedding.” He grins, and you grunt, when the baby kicks against your stomach.

You sigh again and kneel with him, leaning into his arms. You’ve changed the story so much, the future is dark to you now—all that is left is to place your faith in the strength of the dwarves.

[fanficwriting1]

Your Hypnotic Words Chapter 3 (Blame it on the Wizard - Part One)

Bilbo was regretting quite a few things at the moment, which he thought was a perfectly acceptable thing to do when you were about to be eaten by a troll.

It had all started when Thorin had decided to stop in an area for the night and Gandalf was displeased with the choice.

Gandalf always did things at the most inopportune of times, one of the more frustrating things about him that Bilbo was going to ensure he spoke to him about later if he lived. 

So, for the moment, if anything went wrong he could blame the wizard. After all, it was all the wizard’s fault he was on this forsaken quest. 

 (A few hours ago)

Bilbo gave a relieved sigh as Thorin called the party to a halt, everybody sliding off their ponies. Bilbo did the same, sneezing all the way down. 

He found a handkerchief shoved in his face as soon as his feet touched the ground.

He looked at the dwarf with the strange hat - Bofur, he recalled - as he reached to take the handkerchief, accepting only because he didn’t have his and desperately needed to blow his nose. 

“Can I touch your feet, Mr. Baggins?” Bofur asked. 

Bilbo choked. He was sure he must’ve misheard and looked at Bofur for clarification, who Bifur now stood by. 

“I’ve just never seen so much hair on someone’s feet. And so fluffy and well-groomed! Even dwarrow don’t get that much hair on our chests!” Bofur laughed.

Bilbo flushed. Obviously he hadn’t misheard. Feeling the great need to shriek, he was proud of himself as he withheld, and instead furiously signed at the untoward dwarf, who obviously understood nothing.

His feet! Bilbo thought. How dare he!  

He felt another flush crawl up his body and burn his cheeks, and unable to stand the inappropriateness of the circumstance, tried to refrain from running and opted for stomping away.

—

Bofur watched the hobbit stomp away, perplexed. “I’m not sure what Bilbo was trying to say, but I feel offended somehow.”

Bifur chortled as he patted his brother’s shoulder comfortingly. 

Only capable of speaking Khuzdul, Bifur had learned hand signs to better communicate with those who didn’t. While Bilbo’s signing was a bit different from what he was used to, Bifur had understood the majority and was able to confirm that Bofur should’ve been very offended. The hobbit certainly had a wide variety of insults, each one having been more colorful than the last. 

—

In his stomping away, Bilbo hadn’t notice how close he had gotten to Thorin and Gandalf, who had come together shortly after getting off their mounts.

“The elves could help us! We could get food, rest, advice.” 

“I do not need their advice .” Thorin’s face was dark, and Bilbo could instictively tell that he was not going to put up with Gandalf for much longer.

“We have a map we cannot read; Lord Elrond will help us.”

“ Help ? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, and the elves looked on and did nothing . You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father?”

“You are neither of them. And besides, it was not Lord Elrond who abandoned you at Erebor. That blame lies with King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past.” 

“I did not know they were yours to keep.” Thorin spat, and Bilbo flinched at the venom in his tone.

Gandalf scowled at Thorin before turning and heading Bilbo’s way. Bilbo grabbed the Wizard’s cloak, looking at him, daring him to leave.

Gandalf sighed, patting Bilbo’s head, and quickly getting swatted. “I shall not be long Bilbo. I simply desire to seek the company of the only one who has any common sense.”

“Who’s that?” Kili popped up next to them.

“Myself, Kili! I’ve had enough of you dwarrow for one day.” Gandalf stalked off.

—

Camp was set up quickly and with ease, each dwarf falling into their well known routine, while Bilbo had been sat on a log and had been requested to stay there. Bilbo was torn between feeling thankful and outraged. On one hand, Bilbo was incredibly sore from all the riding he had had to endure the entire day along with all the outrageous comments made by all the dwarrow (though Bofur had come back to apologize after Gandalf had talked to him about the meaning of touching a hobbit’s feet in hobbitish culture at Bilbo’s demand) and thereby appreciated the chance he was given to rest. 

But, with many of the dwarrow daring to question his competence? That made Bilbo furious, and by doing nothing to help, it would only enforce that view the dwarrow had.

“Peace offering for being rude earlier?” Bofur stood in front of Bilbo, bowl in hand. Bilbo quickly tucked away the notebook he’d had in his hands.

Steam rose from the bowl, curling into the cold night. He eyed the bowl. Despite the sheer rudeness Bofur had displayed towards Bilbo, the stew had done nothing wrong so Bilbo accepted it graciously.

Bofur, believing it to be a sign of forgiveness, sat down next to Bilbo, watching as he scarfed his meal down, not waiting for it to cool. Bilbo had been hungry for a while now, unused to the small portions and few meals they had. His stomach eased it’s cramping as food entered, but the aching remained. 

As much as Bilbo would like to, he did not plan on asking Bombur for seconds. It would be met with the snarky remarks from the dwarrow (really just Gloin). And, most importantly, he wasn’t about to explain to the dwarrow that he could actually speak, he just chose not to.

Bilbo placed the bowl at his feet, and drew out his little red notebook from his jacket. It was a bit worn from the constant use, the cover faded in some spots. Bilbo pulled out the piece of charcoal he’d placed in the small notebook, and began to sketch once more. 

He looked at the dwarrow next to him, noting the way his mustache and beard curled upward.

Bofur’s hat was the most difficult to draw, seeming to have a life of it’s own. Bilbo frowned.

Bofur peeked at his book. “Do my eyes deceive me, Bilbo, or are those drawings of me?”

It was quite rude to look at someone’s drawings without permission, but Bilbo found that the dwarrow did many things without permission. He nodded. 

“Finally noticing how attractive I am?” Bofur joked. 

That drew a faint smile from Bilbo. Unbeknownst to Bofur, but there was only one reason a drawing of a dwarrow were to make it into his little notebook, their likeness would be accompanied with a scathing rage letter, the things Bilbo wished to say, but was unable to.

“. . . he can only draw. What good will that do the company?”

The jab came from none other than Gloin, who Bilbo was finding himself very tired of very quickly. 

“Give me a moment,” Bofur said, standing and walking away. 

With Bofur gone, Bilbo focused harder on his sketching and blocked out as much of Gloin’s voice as he could, lest he snap back. 

—

Despite appearances, Bofur was an observant dwarf. He could see Bilbo’s anger and discomfort when the other members of the company questioned his capabilities, and the tensing of his body when someone spoke of all hobbits being “soft”. 

It was with this in mind that Bofur rose and walked over to Bombur, who stood at the fire, finishing spooning the stew into the remaining bowls. 

“Are those for Fili and Kili?” he asked. 

Bombur nodded. “They’re watching the horses.”

“Let me take them. I’ll have Bilbo bring them to them.”

“Good idea. The hobbit needs something to do. Feels upset he can’t.” He passed Bofur the bowls, before hesitating and grabbing them back. "I'll bring them to Bilbo." he rumbled

Bombur was a quiet-spoken dwarf, but like his brothers, he was observant. Bilbo was more likely to accept the offer from Bombur than he was to from Bofur.

—

Thorin found his eyes once again drawn to Bilbo, who was currently sitting on a log near the fir, a little notebook in his hand, tilted just so that he got enough light to write. He tapped the charcoal against his lips, (leaving a small smudge that Thorin desperately wished he could wipe away, just to feel how soft the hobbit’s lips were) as his brow furrowed, the wireframe of his glasses gleaming in the firelight. As well as his hair. The light was just right, playing itself over the halfling’s body, highlighting prominent features and contrasting dramatically. Thorin felt curiosity at what was in the notebook and what made Bilbo look at it so seriously. 

He was shaken from his observation when Bofur suddenly entered his field of vision, sitting next to the hobbit. Thorin shook his head, attempting to dislodge the thoughts that had taken residence in his mind. 

Dwalin snorted, “Did you enjoy the view?” he asked and Thorin glared at him, turning back to his stew. Balin sat next to them, watching Thorin with raised brows and casting a look towards the hobbit.

“Are you not concerned about the Wizard leaving?” Balin asked, turning back to their previous topic. 

“It’s too late to bring up the topic of concern,” Thorin said. He hadn’t meant to incite Gandalf to storm off, but with all the badgering about going to the Hidden Valley had made Thorin far more snappy towards the Wizard. “He’ll come back soon enough.” He pushed the spoon around his stew.

Despite his confident tone, Thorin couldn’t help but feel doubt stir in his gut. He felt uneasy and hoped the Wizard would be back soon.

—

“I told you he’s not made out for this quest,” Gloin said. “Too fragile. He’ll slow us down if anything.”

Bilbo seethed as he listened to Gloin regurgitating what he’d said in his smial. He sketched furiously. Gloin was currently the most drawn dwarrow in Bilbo’s notebook, no surprise there.

Bofur stepped over to Bilbo. “Don’t mind anything that Gloin says, he’s just grumpy about being apart from his family.”

Family or not, Gloin had no reason, much less the right to speak about Bilbo like that! Bilbo could deal with the whispers in the Shire because despite what was said, the hobbits knew that Bilbo was perfectly capable. The dwarrow did not, and would not let him demonstrate his usefulness!

His thoughts were interrupted by Bombur who’d found his way over after Bofur had spoken with Bilbo.

“Can you take these to Fili and Kili?” Bombur asked. “They’re watching the ponies.” 

Bilbo accepted the bowls with a nod, shooting a glare towards Gloin, before walking to where the ponies were grazing. At least he could do this to show Gloin he wasn’t only capable of drawing, though it only felt like a minuscule victory.

When he arrived he could already tell something was off. Fili and Kili were both staring at the ponies, brows furrowed. 

Bilbo stepped between them, waiting for them to notice his presence.

“Fili,” Kili said, “I think we’re going to be in trouble.”

“Hopefully Uncle won’t be too upset - Mahal’s beard!” Fili exclaimed. “When’d you get here, Mr. Boggins?” 

Bilbo looked at him, unimpressed. He found him looking at many of the dwarrow that way, with how dense they were there was no way that he couldn’t. He lifted the bowls of soup.

“Are these for us?” Kili nabbed one from Bilbo’s grasp, and Bilbo found him knocking him gently upside the head (it worked because Kili was crouching) giving him a purposeful look. 

“Sorry.” Kili rubbed his head. “Thanks, Mister Boggins!” 

Fili took his bowl with appropriate thanks, and they gestured for him to crouch next to them while they explained the situation.

“It was trolls.” Kili blurted. 

“They took our ponies,” Fili added. 

“They’re going to stew them.” Kili looked close to tears. “They can’t stew Whiney!”

It was apparent Kili needed to work on his naming skills.

“They talked about it while they walked by.” Fili said. “They have the ponies in a corral.”

He gestured for Bilbo to follow him, and he found himself dragged along with the two until they reached a site where a large fire burned, surrounded by three massive trolls. 

The horses had been placed near a big rock and where contained with a makeshift gate.

Bilbo frowned. As much as he disliked ponies, he had no wish to see Minty become a part of a stew.

“You look like you want to do something.” Fili whispered. “You should.” A gentle push had Bilbo stumbling forward. “Whistle if you’re in trouble.”

“Wait - can you whistle if you’re mute?” whispered Kili.

“Of course!” Fili whispered back. “All you’re doing is blowing air.” He turned back to Bilbo and in a lower voice asked, “You can whistle, right?”

Dumbfounded, all Bilbo could do was nod.

“Good! Then if you’re in trouble, whistle once long and twice short.” Kili nodded satisfied and then he and Fili were gone.

Bilbo stayed crouched for a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. It didn’t last long as another troll lumbered by, this time with Bilbo’s pony. 

Bilbo came to a quick conclusion then - he would do this to save his pony and to prove to the dwarrow that he was more than capable enough to be on this journey, and he would make sure to rub it in their faces in it, especially that warrior’s.

Creeping along, Bilbo followed the trolls to their campground, watching as the ponies were deposited in a rough constructed cage. 

Moving to the cage, Bilbo sought to undo the ropes, chafing his hands on the rope while he pulled. As the rope refused to budge, Bilbo began to regret his choices. There was only one clear solution he could see. The dwarrow would inevitably arrive soon, so he had only a few minutes to complete what he needed to.

Bilbo drew in a deep breath and stepped into the clearing. “Hello.” his voice was weak.

The trolls, not hearing him, continued to fight amongst themselves. Bilbo shifted nervously on his feet; he wanted to bolt and hide, knowing that these creatures could tear him limb from limb, but he pushed down the urge, aware that he could take care of the trolls easily. 

Maybe. 

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, excuse me!” 

It worked all too well, getting him the attention of all three trolls.

“What’sa that, Bert?”

“Blimely if I know, Bill!”

The massive trolls stomped over to Bilbo, and the one named Bert scooped him up into his fist, and Bilbo gasped at the tight vice that crushed his torso. “I am a hobbit!” he gasped. 

“Give it ‘ere!”

“Don’t touch ‘em, Tom!”

“A ‘obbit?” Bill scratched his head. “Can we eat ‘em?” 

“‘Course we can.” Bert spat. “All he‘s ‘s bone and meat!” 

Bilbo shut his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself amidst their squabbling. Once he deemed himself as calm as he would ever get in this situation, he opened his mouth once more. “Put me down, Bert.” he said. “Gently, if you would.” He felt immediately the force of control on his mind, but it was bearable.

Bert immediately froze and lowered Bilbo to the ground. 

“Hey! Wht’s you doing! You’re gonna let our meal get away!”

“Tom, Bill, calm down and sit.”

Two bodies thumped to the ground, eyes glassy. Bilbo turned his attention back to Bert. 

“Release the ponies you have in the pen. Then, use the rope you have to restrain Tom and Bill.” 

Watching as Bert began to do as instructed, Bilbo was suddenly hit by the strain of controlling the trolls. His vision began to darken, and he fought against it, breathing deeply and crouching closer to the ground. As he focused, he suddenly heard a battle cry and his control broke. 

The trolls lashed back hard, and Bilbo grunted as the abrupt severing left him in pain. 

The dwarrow stormed the site, weapons in hand, determined to slay the trolls. 

All he could think of was how stupid they were. If only they had arrived a little later, then everything could’ve been resolved. 

“Where’d the ‘obbit go?” Bill asked.

Bert whacked him with the stew spoon. “Don’t worry about that! Focus on the pests first!”

Bilbo had to commend the dwarrow for being able to wreck havoc where’ver they went. The trolls seemed to be overwhelmed, trying to grab and smash the dwarrow, but unable to do so because of the sheer number of them. They would nearly grasp one, only to be met with the blade of hammer of another.  

With this in mind, Bilbo raced towards the ponies, yanking at the rope that held them. So focused he was on his task, that he didn’t see the massive hand swoop towards him, picking him up.

Bilbo gasped at the tight vice-like grip of the troll as he was yanked up and then his arms grabbed in two separate hands and pulled .

“Lay down your arms or we’ll rip his off!” the troll yelled.

The fighting continued, and the slack lessened as he began to be pulled apart further when a cry stopped the dwarrow. “Everyone stop!” 

The call came from Thorin, who’s gaze was fastened on Bilbo as he tossed his weapon to the ground. The dwarrow behind him followed suit.

The trolls made quick work of the dwarrow, tying them up in sacks and dumping them next to a tree. 

“We’ll eat well tonight!” William said with a chortle.

Bilbo, now only grasped in one hand, was hovered over the pot of boiling . . . something. He grimaced. These trolls obviously were bereft of taste, otherwise how could they even consider eating something that smelled so bad? The steam was scorching and Bilbo wished he had never joined the quest.

“Put him down!” Fili yelled from his place in his sack. “You don’t want to eat him!” Bilbo looked at him in surprise.

“That’s right! He has . . . Worms!” Kili added. 

“Worms?” Bert’s nose scrunched as he scrutinized Bilbo. “‘E doesn’t look like ‘e has worms.”

“They’re inside his body!” Bofur shouted. “They crawl around inside and if you eat him they’ll crawl inside you!”

Stunned, Bilbo could only think about how this might’ve been the first smart thing these dwarrow had ever done.

“It’s true! My wee Gimli has them to! He got them from eating a worm-infested pig!” Gloin said.

Shock flowed through him at Gloin’s defense. Never had he imagined that Gloin would try to help him.

The rest of the dwarrow chimed in, speaking about the dangers of worms and the damage it would do to the trolls, and Bilbo found himself moved to be over the ground instead of over the pot. Seeing his chance, he took it, sinking his teeth deep into the fleshy part of William’s hand, and ripping.

William screamed, and the dwarrow looked in horrified fascination as Bilbo was dropped to the ground, spitting out the large chunk of flesh he’d taken from the troll, before yelling at him to move and run away.

Bilbo dodged Bert’s hands as well as Tom’s as he raced back into the forest, fully intending on making his way back home. He was done with the quest, he was done with everything that came with it. 

He paused. The forest was dark and cool, and he cast a glance back towards the light of the campsite. He groaned. The dwarrow had helped him, it wasn’t polite to not help them. 

“I’m really going to leave after this,” Bilbo muttered, heading back to the campsite.

[middleearthpixie]

Hellooo, I love your work, and I would love to request something! If you don't end up writing it, that is completely fine. Please don't feel obligated to!

I'm not sure if you write for Kili, so if you do not, Thorin would be perfectly fine!

But imagine when the company is in Mirkwood and they are sitting in the cells. They are visited by (what they believe to be) a Dwarrowdam, while she is beardless, she is Dwarven in size and has long hair with a few braids in it (They consider her to be like Kili, relatively ugly for Dwarven standards). They get excited when she talks to them, but she doesn't seem to know anything of dwarves culture.

When the guards come, they ask her to hide, which she does not, and is thus greated by the Guards as their Princess, Legolas little Sister. They company realises they've met Thranduils Daughter, who might look a little dwarven but is an elf through and through, with long pointed ears, ethereal seemingly glowing long hair, and royal blood.

How it end is up to you! I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care <333

Hi there, Nonny!

Thank you so much for this and for your patience! 💜

I don't write for Kíli and probably couldn't do him justice if I tried, so I wrote for Thorin, since he is my first dwarf love. :)

Anyway, I hope you like it.

The Escape

Summary: Thorin and his Company have found themselves imprisoned in Mirkwood, only to have help from one of the most unlikeliest of elves...

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Carys Greenleaf

Characters: Thorin, Carys Greenleaf, Thorin’s Company, Thranduíl, Legolas, Bilbo Baggins  

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k 

***

“Did he offer you a deal?”

Thorin bobbed his head, a hint of triumph surging through him as he replied, “He did. And I told him ish kakfê ai-‘d-dûr-rugnal! Him and all his kin!”

“Well, that’s that, then.”

“I will not bargain with elves,” Thorin told him flatly, moving to the far side of the cell. Of course, calling it the far side was a bit disingenuous, as the cell itself was too small to actually have sides. Small. Damp. With cots of woven tree branches that had poked through the packed earthen walls. There was barely enough room for him and Balin, and Balin was one of the smaller dwarves. Thank Mahal he wasn't locked away with Bombur. 

Thorin peered through the iron bars that made up the cell door. Across from them, Bombur and Bifur were crammed into one cell together, and Bifur couldn't be seen behind his cousin. Thorin just knew he was there, for every now and again, Bifur muttered something in khuzdul. 

“Without a bargain,” Balin was saying, “we are not getting out of here, you know.”

Thorin shook his head, moving away from the door to sink onto the edge of the roughly woven bunk. It was rough and uneven, and he couldn't imagine getting a peaceful night’s sleep on it, even if his mind wasn't already weighted down with their situation and the fact they were quickly running out of time to make it to the Lonely Mountain before the last light of Durin’s Day. 

Still, he had his principles and bargaining with elves violated every one of them. Especially bargaining with Mirkwood elves. Out of the question entirely. “We will find our way out. Our burglar is still among the missing, remember.”

“True, but we don't know where he is, or if he is even within the palace,” Balin pointed out, sinking onto the bunk across from Thorin’s. The cell was so narrow, if he reached out, Thorin would be able to touch Balin. Thank Mahal small spaces didn't trouble him, since it looked as though they might be there for some time. 

Best not to think about that.

“Are you thirsty?”

Thorin jumped at the unexpected voice that floated through the bars and when he looked over to see who their visitor might be, he couldn't help but stare. How was it possible a dwarrowdam walked freely in Mirkwood, of all places? And not only a dwarrowdam, but one of the oddest looking women he’d ever seen, with her shimmering, white-blonde hair sleek as it spilled over her shoulders. He would have thought her to be an elf, were it not for her diminutive size (she was shorter than even Balin, and that was saying something,) and the fact that her face was completely devoid of any hair whatsoever. Her pale skin almost glowed in its bareness, making her wide eyes seemed even wider and incredibly dark. But then his gaze alit on the braids woven into that otherwise sleek golden fall. Two on the left side of her head and one on the right, each adorned with small silver ornaments of some sort. An outcast, no doubt, and probably some sort of elf-servant, which sent a rush of pity for her surging through him. 

“We want nothing from the likes of you,” he told her bluntly. “Leave us.”

She stepped closer and he realized then that her eyes were not dark at all. Instead, they were blue. A deep blue the color of the perfect sapphires that were once mined in Erebor. Deep blue and just as sparkling. Those beautiful eyes held his as she replied, “Stubborn fool. Think you anyone else will pass by and offer you water or anything, for that matter?”

“I deal with no dwarf who serves an elven master,” he told her flatly. “So take yourself off, and leave us be.”

“Thorin,” Balin’s voice was low with both warning and scolding, “there is no need to be rude to the girl.”

Thorin glared at him. “Mind yourself, Balin. We need nothing from the likes of her.”

She remained where she stood, unfazed by his dismissal. “Are you always one to cut off his nose to spite his face?”

“Begone with you, unless you’ve come to release us.”

“I couldn’t do that if I wanted to,” came her pert reply, “as Thranduíl would be furious with me and I’d rather avoid that, it’s all the same to you, dwarf.”

He held her stare as he debated about whether or not to scold her again. But when she held his stare without flinching or looking away, he relented with a muffled sigh. He was cutting off his nose to spite his face and in all honesty, he would gladly kill for a sip of anything liquid at the moment. “Very well. I beg your pardon. Water would be appreciated.”

“There,” she bobbed her head, “was that so difficult?”

Thorin felt Balin step up behind him, and he looked over at the older dwarf as Balin asked, “Who are you, lass? What clan do you claim as yours?”’

“Clan?” Her blue eyes clouded with confusion as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Whom do you call husband? I assume he’s the one what wove those into your hair.”

“Again, I’m not following you. I’m afraid I don't understand at all what you’re asking me.”

“The braids.” Balin gestured to his own woolly white hair. “The man you’ve pledged yourself to, was he killed in battle with these elves? Is that how you came to be indentured to them?”

“Indentured?” She shook her head, the silver ornaments in her braids thunking softly against one another. “I’ve pledged myself to no man. And I am indentured to no one. In fact, I have no idea what you’re going on about at all.”

Thorin wasn't exactly sure how to respond to her. “You don’t understand the significance of your braids?”

“Other than they keep my hair out of my eyes?” She smiled then. “There is no significance and I’ve pledged myself to no man. At least,” a glint came into her pale eyes as she met his, “not yet.”

To his surprise, his cheeks grew hot. She must have noticed it herself, for her smile grew winsome. “You, dwarf, are blushing.”

“Dwarf?” Balin broke in, shaking his head. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but he is no ordinary dwarf. He is—”

“That’ll do, Balin,” Thorin broke in, shaking his head as he glanced over his shoulder at him. 

Balin’s eyes widened briefly, then he nodded. “Of course.” And to the girl, he said, “Have you a name?”

“I do, of course. Surely you don't think they simply call out You! and hope I turn around, do you?”

Now it was Balin’s turn to blush and Thorin almost laughed aloud at the rare sight. Clearing his throat, Balin bobbed his head. “Of course not. That would be silly.”

“It would, indeed.” She smiled once more. “I am—”

Footsteps sounded and Kíli hissed, “Someone’s coming!”

Fíli appeared at the door of the cell he shared with his brother. “You should leave, miss. I should hate to see you in trouble.”

“Trouble?” She twisted toward him and Thorin couldn’t help noticing how her hair seemed to come alive, spilling like molten gold over her shoulder. “I’ll have nothing of the sort. Why would I?”

“Princess?” One of the Mirkwood guards appeared, scowling as he addressed the girl. “You should not be down here. It’s not safe.”

“Oh, do I answer to you now?” Her voice remained mild but there was no mistaking the amusement and annoyance threaded through her words. “Because I’m fairly certain I do not.”

“Your father would be displeased, should he know you’ve come down here.”

Princess. Thorin straightened at hearing her addressed this way. This girl was no dwarrowdam after all. Which explained so much, and yet left so many other questions clanging around in his head, beginning with why a princess was wandering about the dungeon, for starters.

“Carys!” A deeper voice rang out along the cells. “What mean you by this?”

“By what? Being here?” She didn't seem at all nervous or afraid as the elf who’d rounded Thorin and his company up in the Mirkwood forest stepped out of the shadows. “Legolas, you didn't even offer them a drop to drink and after battling the spiders, no less. What is the matter with you?”

Thorin almost smiled at the disappointment and scolding in her voice. It served the uppity elf right, to be put in his place. He not only accused Thorin of lies, but of thievery as well, and took it upon himself to relieve Thorin of the same sword Elrond had gifted him not a two months ago. 

Thorin looked from Carys to Legolas and almost groaned at the resemblance between them. She was not a dwarf at all, but merely a very small elf. A child, perhaps? He thunked his head against the iron bars. A child would not go against her father’s wishes and free them. The most she would do would be to offer them water. What else could she do? 

But if Legolas was chagrined by her words, he hid it well, snorting before he replied, “Why would I do such a thing? And you should not take it upon yourself to—”

“Oh, hush,” she snapped, shaking her head at him. “Don’t be that way. Papa is angry that they dared trespass, and while he’s within his rights to be annoyed, I think imprisoning them is overkill. They were lost in our woods and he had them arrested for it. They’d done nothing to warrant it, you know. Lost is not a crime, unless our laws have changed, which I’m fairly certain they’ve not.”

Legolas’ dark eyes flicked up and Thorin almost smiled as he met the elf’s stare easily. Stepping around his sister, he said, “Do not think I am as soft as she. I care not if you lot are left here long enough to turn to dust.”

“I’ve noticed,” Thorin replied dryly, mindful of Balin’s dark eyes boring into his back at the moment. “Although, I confess, I was not aware being lost was a crime, unless, as she’s pointed out, your laws have changed.”

“You are guilty of more than simply being lost. You took it upon yourself to attempt to hunt one of Thranduíl’s prized deer, and that is a crime in these lands,” Legolas told him, shaking his head. “You are fortunately this cell is all the punishment he’s ordered.”

“I certainly feel fortunate.”

“Thorin, mind yourself,” Balin growled behind him.

Thorin ignored the warning, adding, “We were lost and hungry and thirsty. You would do the same, were you in our boots.”

“I would never be in dwarven boots. I value my feet far too much.” Legolas turned to his sister. “Come. I will have one of the others deal with this lot.”

“I wish to bring them water first. A little kindness won’t hurt, you know.”

“Not now. Let’s go.” He grabbed Carys by the elbow and steered her away, calling over his shoulders, “She will not be back, you know.”

Carys scowled as she glared up at her older brother. “Would it have hurt to give them a sip of water? When did you grow so cold, Legolas, that you would deny anyone a basic necessity such as that?”

“You are too soft, is the problem,” he replied without looking at her. “And you know Father would agree with me.”

She pulled free. “We will see about that.”

“Carys, wait—”

She ignored him, marching ahead of him along the open walkway that led toward her father’s throne room. Although she knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears, she had to try. Thorin Oakenshield and his company had broken no elven laws, save for that attempt to shoot one of Thranduíl’s white deer, and she felt one hundred years in a cell was not exactly a warranted punishment for that. If they’d hit the deer, perhaps, but since he’d missed…

Besides, she’d heard tell of Thorin Oakenshield and had, for some time now, wondered whether or not he actually existed. Now that she’d seen him for herself… well… she was somehow going to convince her father to let him go. What harm had befallen her family from having the dwarves in their forest? Absolutely none. 

With that, she marched into the throne room where she found Thranduíl perched high atop his throne of woven branches, adorned with gilded versions of oak leaves, acorns, maple seeds, and pine cones. He blended with the surroundings in his flowing robes of gold, orange, brown, and red silk that floated about him like a mist. The sunlight that filtered through the treetops reflected off his crown of sticks and twigs, also adorned with gilded acorns and polished stones that in some lights appeared golden, and in others, almost black. 

“Papa, a word?”

His eyes were as green as spring leaves after a rainstorm, calm and tranquil as they met hers. “What is it, Carys?”

“The prisoners.”

“If you mean the dwarves, you should simply stop right there,” he replied sternly, “for I will not discuss them.”

“What have they done that is so terrible? They were lost.”

“That does not excuse them their trespasses.”

“They didn't kill the deer, mind you.” She shook her head as she stepped closer. “They did nothing except walk along our paths. They sipped not even a drop of water. Let them go.”

“I will do no such thing and we will not discuss it further. They stay until Thorin Oakenshield is willing to return to me that which is rightfully mine.”

“What?” She cocked her head slightly to stare up at him. “What are you about, Papa? What of yours can these dwarves possibly have?”

Thranduíl shook his head, sending his shimmering blond hair spilling like molten gold over his shoulders. “Never you mind about it. You have my answer. And I’ll not change my mind, so do not even try.”

“But, Papa—”

“No!” His low voice echoed all around them and his robes swished softly as he rose to sweep carefully down the staircase from his throne. “I’ll not settle for any less.”

“You are being impossibly stubborn, do you know this? You make no sense and this is just cruel. They’ve not even been offered so much as sip of water since you locked them away.”

“I needed not make sense to you, daughter, to have my wishes obeyed. Now, you are to stay away from the dungeons. Legolas,” Thranduíl’s pale eyes flicked up over her head, “see your sister to her chambers, please.”

“I can see myself there, thank you.” She spun about and swept out of the throne room through the doorway along the eastern wall, that led to a corridor traveled only by her family. Her rooms were at the far end, and she didn't slow down as she made her way through her chambers and out to the small garden behind them.

Hints of jasmine and honeysuckle hung in the air. If she closed her eyes, Carys could almost see her mother, for those scents would forever be associated with her mother. She had very little memory of her, but for her scent remained burned into Carys’ brain and would remain there. This garden was the only place were honeysuckle grew, as Thranduíl did not know she’d cultivated it. Had he, and Carys had no doubt he’d have ordered it burned. Not out of cruelty, but out of self-preservation, for he’d never gotten over her murder.

Carys was but an infant when it happened and had no memory of her mother aside from the flowers. And she could not even be sure that she linked them because she remember them or because her father told her that her mother’s favorite scent was honeysuckle. It didn't matter. Carys found comfort in the smell, just has her father found sorrow in it. 

A low stone wall ringed the garden and as she sank onto it, Carys sighed softly. Thorin and his men did not deserve to be locked away in a dungeon for a crime that was hardly a crime. The longer she sat there, her back against her favorite tree, watching the fireflies as they flashed through the growing darkness, the more strongly she felt they did not deserve this. 

The Feast of Starlight, Mereth Nuin Goliath was to begin shortly, and once the wine began flowing, no one would notice if she slipped away from the others. So she joined them all in the Great Hall, and by half-eleven, even her father was well into his cups. As she thought, no one seemed to take notice when she slipped out of the hall and down into the kitchens, where the keys were kept on a hook near the doorway. 

The iron ring was cold and far heavier than it looked, and she wrapped her fingers about the numerous equally cold and heavy keys to keep them from clanking together as she descended into the damp depths of the Mirkwood dungeons. That dampness bit into her, the cold made her feet ache through her thin silk slippers, and she wished she’d brought a wrap with her. 

But, she’d be up in her chambers and warm again soon enough, and so put her discomfort from her mind. It was temporary and it would pass.

“What time do you suppose it is?” The low male voice floated out from one of the cells.

“It must be nearly dawn by now.”

“We will never make it in time.”

She crept up to Thorin’s cell and softly rattled the keys. “I beg to differ.”

Thorin appeared in the doorway, his eyes pale blue slivers in the soft light afforded by the torches affixed high above them. Those eyes stood out starkly against his long tangle of black har and equally dark, heavy brows. “What are you doing?”

“I do not believe trespassing is deserving of a hundred-year sentence.” She slid the key into the lock and turned to set the tumblers opening. “And so, I’ve come to let you all go. But, you’ll have to move quickly, for it won’t take much for them to notice I’ve gone. They’re drunk, but not dead, you know.” 

The door opened noiselessly and a moment later, Thorin stood before her. Up close, he was strikingly handsome. Far more so than she would have ever thought and definitely more so than she’d ever expected. And since he was tall for a dwarf, and she was short for an elf, they were the same height, which meant they stood nearly eye-to-eye. 

Those eyes were friendly now, and almost warm as he said, “Princess, thank you.”

“There is no need for that.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sounds of people moving in the kitchens. “We need to move. Now. Follow me.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” A dwarf almost as tall as Thorin and far more menacing-looking, with his balding, tattooed head, growled. 

“Why would I trap you when you were already trapped?” She shook her head. “There really is no time for this. Come with me or remain here for the next hundred years. The choice is yours.”

“Where is the hobbit? Is he here?” a dwarf with two jet-black pigtails asked.

“I’ve no idea what hobbit you might be referring to, as I’ve seen none. Now, please,” Carys tried to force as much urgency into her whisper as she could manage, “it will not be long before someone comes into the kitchens and notices this enormous key ring—” she held up the ring in question, jangling it softly for effect—“is missing. And they will know why it is missing. So, if you’d be so kind, please, follow me.”

“Do as she says,” Thorin hissed, then to her surprise, caught her by the elbow as he added, “Please, lead on.”

She did, moving swiftly along the all-too-familiar treads, deeper into the palace, until they reached the bottommost level, where at least two dozen casks stood carefully stacked, waiting to be filled with goods to be sent down the Forest River to Esgaroth and points beyond.

Thorin stared at her in disbelief. “You cannot mean what I think you mean.”

“You will be fine. Trust me. I used to do this myself as a child. It might give you butterflies in your stomach, but that’s the worst that should happen.”

“Thorin, you cannot mean to listen to her!” The dwarf with the pigtails stared in wide-eyed horror. “She’s meaning to drown the lot of us. And we cannot leave without finding Bilbo.”

“Please,” she looked from one dwarf to the next, shaking her head as dust filtered down from the boards above, “someone has noticed and you are almost out of time. Get in the barrels. Otherwise, my efforts will have been in vain and you will find yourselves back in your cells.”

“In with you all,” Thorin whispered sharply. “Waste no more time!”

More dust filtered down around them and the dwarves reluctantly climbed into the barrels, muttering and mumbling the entire time. She ignored them as she met Thorin’s gaze. “You should get in as well. I’ll pull the lever and get you on your way. Hopefully, the current will be swift enough to have whisked you out of reach of the archers, but I will try to stall them as best I can just the same.”

“Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome.” Footsteps thudded dully overhead. “You should go.”

He glanced up. “What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never defied my father this way. He will be quite angry, I imagine. But, that certainly won’t be the first time.”

The footsteps grew louder and now her heart beat faster. Thranduíl would be beyond furious with her, really. He might even banish her. She didn't know. She’d seen him banish other elves for lesser offenses, but they were not his daughter, either. Certainly she would not have to fear such a punishment.

At least, she hoped she wouldn’t. 

The boards directly over their heads creaked and voices, muffled at first, grew clearer. The seriousness of her actions bit into her then and without hesitation, she said, “Get in now!”

Thorin climbed into a barrel and looked back at her once more. “Thank you again.”

“Think not of it,” she told him, forcing herself to smile as she moved to the lever that wold turn the floor into a ramp. “Safe travels.”

Though kept well-oiled, the dampness still caused rust to form on the giant cogs and they squealed as she pushed against the lever with all of her might. At first, the floor only barely moved and fear bit into her with sharp teeth, urged her to push with more force. The muscles in her back screamed, the ones in her legs burned, but finally, the ramp lowered and one by one, the barrels splashed into the river far below. Another moment later, and they were out of sight.

The ramp clapped shut just as the first guards burst into the chamber, Thranduíl right behind them, his eyes ablaze with utter fury unlike any she’d ever seen. When those eyes fell on her, she stepped back, her stomach twisting into hot knots of fear unlike any she’d ever felt before. 

***

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[intoxicated-chan]

𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Thranduil’s words ring in your head as reality of your immortality hits. You should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. This is going to have two other endings, one happy ending and angst ending.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, Reader is an Elf, pet names (amrâlimê, meleth nîn), heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence…

Thranduil’s words hit you hard when you were brought in front of him while the rest were locked up. He sat cockily on this throne and spat out words that enraged you right down to the core. But it made sense… You were an Elf, not a half-Elf. You cannot choose between immortality or mortality.

You would walk the lands of Middle-Earth until you were struck down or go to Valinor. Dwarves live long but not close enough to compare to an Elves’s lifespan. Even so… Even after death, Kili will go where you cannot follow.

“If you love him, and you are confident that he loves you. It would be best if you parted ways now or until either of you die on the field.” Thranduil spoke soft and low. “You have enough time in your life to find another or none at all. You will face his death or he will face your immortality. It’s a relationship that will never hold happiness.”

“I can’t go with you Kili.” You pulled your hand from him while stepping back into the direction of Mirkwood. “I cannot continue with you all.”

“W-What do you mean?” Kili was already in pain, was it the adrenaline or the pain throbbing from his thigh that was keeping him from thinking the worst? “Come on, we don’t have enough time. The orcs are on our tail.”

“Let me rephrase…” You took a deep breath to relax your beating heart and to clutch the hilt of your stolen sword tightly. “I’m not coming. This is where my journey ends.”

“You can’t say that! You’re part of the company-!”

“I am part of no company. I came with you all out of pity.”

“You’re lying!”

“This is where it ends for me-!”

“Enough!” Thorin interrupted, marching to you and Kili, he was already angry, tired, and completely drenched. “If she wishes to leave then let her! We have no time to carry dead weight!” He said before turning back to the rest of the Company who were trying to decide what to do.

“(Y/n), surely this isn’t you. You cannot turn back now, we are so close.” Kili pleaded with you, using whatever strength to stand on his own.

“Kili-”

He snatched your hands, holding them together in his own bloody hands to lay a kiss on them. “Please, do not go. Don’t go where I won’t be able to follow. I want you to lay your eyes on my home, I want to do it with you.”

He looked up at you with watery eyes and a tear falling…

Kili then gripped your shirt with both of his hands to pull you down into a frantic kiss. His lips quivered as he held back the urge to burst into tears right in front of you and the rest. “I beg you, amrâlimê.”

“...Goodbye, Kili.” You pulled away once more and could see everyone staring at you. You gave no time for them to say anything, only a silent nod in Thorin’s direction before rushing back to Mirkwood and hopefully talking of leaving the forest the same way you came in, even if it met you’d have to face the spiders again.

You chose to lay down your sword and leave for Rivendell to spend your many years in solace until you were ready to sail to Valinor. You believed that Thranduil informed Lord Elrond that you were on your way since he welcomed you with open arms but he refused to say anything.

There were many Elves, but not once have you attempted to have conversations with them. You kept to yourself, reading, walking, eating and then bed, almost like a pattern.

It continued for months until you received two letters. One from Thranduil and one from Kili. But they were delivered at the same time, the messenger explained that Thranduil let Kili write to you one last time.

Thranduil wrote to you, his words solidified your choice to leave the Company behind. Yet there was guilt still residing since what you said was a lie. You joined because you genuinely wanted to help, you hoped that it would’ve been easier on the rest.

When it came to Kili’s letter, you wanted to push it aside, hoping to read it when you felt ready. But you knew you couldn’t push it back anymore.

‘Amrâlimê,

It has been some time since I’ve last felt your warmth, or heard your voice, or held your hands. I miss the way you speak in rhymes, or stories of your adventures and battles. I wished you too could have laid your eyes on Erebor, and I’m still sure you will love it here. Everyone knows you didn’t mean those words, they didn’t take it to heart. They wish for your return as well, as do I.

I wish to spend the rest of my days with you and you alone, and if I must come and find you then I will. You have my heart, you have me in your hands, and my home isn’t truly home if you aren’t there with me.’

You still had a second page to read but you broke down, sobbing as you held the letter like your life depended on it. You were fighting with yourself, you were desperate to rush back to Erebor and see him.

But Thranduil’s words once again rang through your head. You can go back to Kili but then face his death or you could stay here but still face his death… Either way, he dies in the end. There was no way around it.

Lord Elrond comes into your line of sight, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You managed to slow your tears and clear your throat. “When is the next ship to Valinor going to leave?”

“If you make this decision, you cannot go back.” Lord Elrond warned you. “You still have time to be with him. Do not make a decision you will regret.”

“I’ve had my time, I know my choice. Kili should be with his people.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Kili shall receive my sword, Fili will get my knives, Thorin will have my collection of jewels, and Bilbo will be gifted my journals.” You looked back at the nicely boxed items. “The rest can get a choice of my belongings.”

“You have planned this out from the start, haven’t you?”

“Elves can only love Elves, it’s easier without heartbreak.” You folded Kili’s letter neatly. “I would like to thank you for the hospitality.”

“A group is leaving now.” Lord Elrond can see that you weren’t going to change your mind, he sighed and nodded. “I wish you well (Y/n).”

“Thank you once again, Elrond.” You grabbed your cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders as you left your room and towards the group of Elves leaving for Valinor as well.

‘Kili,

From the day you sought me out and I watched you climb that tree to proclaim how you wished to be with me. Or the hours by the campfire exchanging stories. It saddens me that this will be my final words to you, if there was some other way for us to be together without it being painful then trust me when I say I would run right back to you.

You amazed me each day, the jokes, your skills, you will continue to surprise me from this day and until my last. I will think back to you and your smile, but please understand that my decision is for the best.

With all of my life, meleth nîn. Someday, we shall meet again but not in this world.’

“This is a lie.” Kili slammed his hands on the table. “Where is she?!”

“Kili!” Fili pulled him back.

“I speak nothing but the truth, she left for Valinor, she’s days away if not then boarding the ships.” Elrond informed the two brothers. “Either way, she’s gone, beyond your reach.”

But Kili still refused, he shook his head angrily. “That’s still a chance.”

“You won’t be able to change her mind.” Fili warned him.

“If she wanted to… She would say it to my face.” He rushed off, nearly taking a tumble down the steps.

Fili chased after him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You heard what the Elf said, she could be boarding the ships.”

“Or days away!” Fili froze as he saw tears swell his eyes. “I cannot let her go, I promised myself that wherever she goes, I will go. I could not do it the first time, but I am now.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy]

The Way It Comes To Be- Chapter 5

Chapter summary: Everything seems to be going okay, but now Thorin has to face his own destiny.

Link on Ao3

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Thorin x Bilbo, Kili x Tauriel

Warning: Panic attacks (this will be highlighted with an italicized font in the text)

***

Chapter 5: Echoes of Promise

It was the middle of the night, and Bilbo was sleeping peacefully in his bed, covered with warm blankets made of fur to protect himself from the cold. His sleep was particularly good, until he heard a loud, metallic clatter from the halls. It was as if something metallic had fallen on the ground. The sound of the fall rang all across the halls and woke him up from his slumber with a scare.

Bilbo got up and quietly walked out of his room to see what was going on. He could feel the cold breeze coming from outside in the large hallway. The loud noise seemed to have faded, but Bilbo then heard steps coming from a long distance. He was worried that it might be someone or something dangerous, and since he wasn’t armed, he was slightly scared.

A shadow came from the stairs that went down the hall, and Bilbo did everything in his power to prepare for any possible risks. Could he actually die right here and now? However, when the figure revealed himself, it was someone completely unexpected.

It was Kili.

“Kili?” Bilbo asked confusingly. “It is the middle of the night! Where were you?”

“Uh… I was…I was trying to get a drink?” Kili tried to lie to Bilbo, but it almost seemed completely useless since Bilbo could catch on any lie.

“You look extremely sweaty and flustered for only going downstairs to get a drink,” Bilbo pointed out, “Seriously, where were you? Something could’ve happened!”

“I was with the elves,” Kili answered at last, “I was with Tauriel. We met in secret”

“Well, please say hi to her for me the next time you are sneaking around,” Bilbo said sarcastically.

“I’m so sorry,” Kili apologized, “I am sorry for making all that noise down there… This is the only time Tauriel and I can meet up since we are so busy all day. Please, don’t tell my uncle about this.”

Bilbo considered for a moment. He was most definitely not a snitch, but Kili made a lot of noise back there and could’ve caused some… drama.

“Fine, I won’t say a word, but please, be careful, Kili,” Bilbo agreed, “Now, just get back to your room and don’t make any more noise!”

Kili nodded his head in gratitude and quickly sneaked back to his room. Bilbo went back to his room and tried to go back to sleep, but now that Kili has awoken him, sleep was eluding him. His mind went through a million different things until the sun began to rise, when his body decided to finally relax and sleep for a little while. When it was time to start the day, Bilbo was feeling AND looked exhausted, with eye bags hanging in his face and his skin slightly pale. Today was going to be one of the last important meetings Thorin, Thranduil, and Bard would have for reorganizing Erebor, and it was going to be a grueling affair.

“Good morning, Master Burglar,” greeted Balin, “I hope your sleep was pleasant.”

“Good mornin’, Balin,'' Bilbo greeted back sluggishly, “I slept alright.”

Balin didn’t say anything more and could tell the hobbit was not in the mood for talking any further. He could tell he was exhausted, but didn’t ask about it.

Bilbo dragged himself to the meeting hall where Thorin, Thranduil, Bard, the company, Gandalf, and their advisors were already gathering. The atmosphere was dense, discussions already underway about the logistics of rebuilding Erebor and Dale. Bilbo found a seat near the back, hoping to blend into the background as he tried to shake off his tiredness.

Thorin glanced over as Bilbo entered, concern flickering in his eyes before he resumed his discussion with Thranduil when he looked at the hobbit’s exhausted face. Bard nodded at Bilbo in acknowledgment, sensing the hobbit's fatigue but saying nothing.

As the meeting progressed, Bilbo struggled to focus, his mind drifting occasionally despite the importance of the discussions. The weight of leadership and the intricacies of governance were far from the simple life he had once known in the Shire.

“We have now reached the pivotal point of this meeting,” announced Thranduil, “It is time that the new government of the Kingdom of Erebor shall be established.”

Everyone, even Bilbo, shifted their attention to the three leaders who were around the table with papers and maps spread across it. Now, it was going to be time for Thorin to be declared the King Under The Mountain.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain II son of Thror, will be the new king of Erebor, with the following people as the heirs to the throne: Dis Durin, Fili Durin, and Kili Durin,” announced Gandalf. The whole audience stood up and clapped for the three dwarfs. The Durin siblings looked flattered, but extremely happy. Thorin however, looked as if a giant rock had fallen on top of him.

“The Royal Council of Advisors for the king and the heirs shall be formed by the following people,” Thranduil announced. He read a long list of all of the members of the Company, which took almost four minutes.

“Last on the list of advisors for the king and the heirs, would be Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,” Thranduil announced at last. The members of the company clapped for Bilbo and congratulated him. Bilbo, even if his fatigue was taking over him, felt surprised and joyful at these news. He never actually thought that a hobbit could get in such an important position in a royal government.

“The Council of Elders, once a prestigious group of dwarf representatives, shall be renewed once more,” announced Thorin, “Different dwarfs from diverse clans shall be elected to form a part of this council, which will meet every certain time to discuss events happening on Middle Earth and to discuss the futures of our clans. The council will also be established once more in order to have mutual cooperation and alliances with these clans.” He read a list of some dwarf names that Bilbo did not recognize at all.

“The new government of Erebor shall have a new constitution and law system to incentivize the distribution of wealth among the people of Erebor and Dale,” claimed Thorin, reading from some written documents. He also announced the creation of a new law system designed to prevent corruption and any abuse of power.

“We would also like to announce that there has been a new official alliance,” announced Bard, “We, the people of Dale, the Elves from Mirkwood, and the Dwarfs from Erebor formed a new alliance for mutual trade and security. This alliance will help foster the connectivity that all inhabitants of these lands will develop. After the events all three civilizations have gone through, it is time to establish peace between us once and for all. The new council formed by all three rulers of these lands shall be named the Council of the Three Borders, which will meet annually to discuss all circumstances happening in all three dominions.”

Everyone in the room was clapping for the progress that has been made in these past few weeks. Who would’ve known that elves, men, and dwarves could get along so well and respect each other mutually?

“As a result of this brand new alliance, we are open to all suggestions of using any representations to officialize this agreement,” Gandalf claimed. Everyone was silent for some moments and didn’t know what to say until Bilbo suddenly had a good idea.

“Uh… excuse me?” Bilbo spoke, “What if to officialize your alliance, you can use something more abstract or symbolic?”

“Can you please elaborate on that?” Bard asked.

“I am saying that maybe you could plant a tree between the borders of Mirkwood, Dale, and Erebor to symbolize the brand new peace agreement,” replied Bilbo.

The three leaders looked at each other to think of an answer, and they seemed to agree with it. Thorin smiled at Bilbo for his collaboration, which made his cheeks turn pink. Even Thranduil, who is hard to convince and extremely stubborn, liked the idea that Bilbo had just proposed.

“Your proposal is quite interesting,” Thranduil agreed, “It is a creative and intuitive symbol. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

Thorin agreed with Thranduil and nodded in approval, not shifting his eyes away from Bilbo. Bard also agreed approvingly along with the men, who looked pleased and satisfied.

“Then it is settled,” said Gandalf, breaking the silence. “A tree shall be planted between the borders of Dale, Mirkwood, and Erebor as a symbol of peace and mutual respect, but now we must simply determine a location for this.” The three leaders, along with Gandalf, scanned the available maps of Middle Earth, and after a few minutes, pinned a location for the tree, as well as the date to plant it.

“Now that it is settled,” Gandalf continued, “We have to discuss another important upcoming event: the coronation of Thorin.”

Thorin’s face changed from a serious one to a nervous one. Now, it was actually time to face his path, his destiny. It almost felt surreal that it was going to happen soon.

“The coronation must be a grand affair. It symbolizes not only the return of the King under the Mountain but also the unity of three different races.” Thranduil stated.

Bard leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “We need to ensure that the people of Dale and Erebor see this as a new beginning. It’s crucial for morale and the future cooperation between our kingdoms.” Bard’s words made Thorin feel even more uneasy about the event. His anxiety began to escalate slowly, and he felt drops of sweat form in his palms.

“I agree,” said Gandalf, “This coronation is more than just a ceremony for the dwarves. It represents hope and a new era for all of us. What are the necessary preparations?”

“We must secure the safety of the event,” Balin added. “Given the recent battles, there may still be threats lurking around these lands. We cannot afford any disruptions.”

Gandalf nodded, his eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and concern. “Indeed. And beyond security, we must ensure that all allied leaders are present. This will reinforce our alliances and demonstrate our strength.”

As they kept talking, the dwarf king’s mind started spinning around with racing thoughts, and a surge of panic ran over his veins, causing his breathing to accelerate, and his hand to grip his seat tightly. The pressure of being king started to crash heavily on his body, making his body weak and his heart palpitate at a rapid pace. Even if he still remembered vividly Gandalf’s reassuring words, the weight on him was debilitating his mind and spirit.

Bilbo, who was still groggy, noticed Thorin’s body language and immediately woke up. Thorin was looking pale as a ghost and his breathing accelerated. He could tell something bad was happening to him. The hobbit looked at Bilbo with a concerned look in his eyes and glanced at Gandalf with a worried look. The wizard noticed this signal and proceeded to interrupt the talks about the coronation.

“I think we have talked long enough about this,” Gandalf said, trying not to sound uncomfortable, ”Let’s take a brief break and then continue with the meeting in a few minutes.”

Everyone in the room left extremely confused, but simply listened to the orders and left the meeting hall. Bilbo quickly approached Thorin, who was already struggling to breathe properly and had sweat all around his face. His hands were dripping with sweat and were as cold as ice.

“Thorin,” Bilbo called gently, his voice tinged with worry. He placed a comforting hand on both of Thorin’s shoulders. “Thorin, look at me. Breathe with me. In and out, slowly.”

Thorin’s eyes were wide with panic and seemed absent from reality, but he tried to focus on Bilbo’s calm, steady voice. He matched his breaths to Bilbo’s, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Gandalf moved closer, his expression grave yet calm.

“You’re not alone, Thorin,” Gandalf said softly. “We’re here with you. Remember, you’ve faced worse and come out stronger. You have the strength within you to overcome this as well.”

Bilbo continued to speak soothingly, his presence a grounding force for Thorin, returning him back to reality. “You’re doing great, Thorin. Just keep breathing with me. We’ll get through this together.”

Slowly, Thorin’s breathing began to stabilize. The color started to return to his face, and the grip on his chair relaxed. The panic that had gripped him so fiercely began to fade away, replaced by a tentative calm.

“Thank you, Bilbo… Gandalf,” Thorin managed to say, his voice hoarse but steadying. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s the weight of your responsibilities,” Gandalf replied gently. “It’s natural to feel overwhelmed. But you must remember, you have friends and allies who believe in you and are here to support you.”

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’re in this together, Thorin. You don’t have to carry the burden alone.”

Thorin took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude. “I’m grateful to have both of you by my side. I just need to remember that once in a while.”

Gandalf smiled warmly. “Indeed. Now, let’s take a moment to rest before we continue. You’ll be ready when the time comes.”

Bilbo and Gandalf stayed by Thorin’s side, their presence a steadying influence as he regained his composure. The break allowed him to gather his strength, and when the meeting resumed, he felt more prepared to face the challenges ahead.

When everyone returned to the meeting hall, the meeting resumed normally, except that Bilbo decided to sit close to Thorin to keep an eye on him and to give him reassurance, which gave Thorin comfort and solace.

“This event is going to be a great deal for the whole kingdom,” Gandalf spoke, “It will be the start of a new era for everyone, and it is something worth the celebration.”

“I suppose we can invite multiple dwarf clans to the ceremony, and we can try to gather representatives for the Council of Elders using this strategy,” Thorin spoke, “Balin, could you write the invitations along with Bilbo?”

Balin asserted, continued listening to the meeting, and began writing some things on a piece of paper with ink. There were multiple names of dwarf leaders written on the paper Balin had, which showed that this ceremony was going to be extravagant and important.

“Erebor and Dale’s infrastructures should also be completely repaired and recovered by the time the time for the ceremony is closing in,” Thorin said, “In much time will the city be ready, Bard?”

“Our builders have estimated that it could take the next month or so to finish rebuilding the entire city,” said Bard, “The walls in our borders still need to be finished and secured completely.”

“That sounds doable,” Thorin replied, “How long will it take to rebuild the palace?”

The dwarves exchanged glances, each trying to think of a reasonable estimate. While significant progress had been made in the past few weeks, there was still much work to be done. Many structures needed to be completed, and the remnants of Smaug’s destruction still had to be cleared from the palace.

“I suppose we can get it done in the next month,” Bilbo blurted out, causing the rest of the dwarves to look at him quizzically.

“Kili, you owe me ten coins,” whispered Fili to his brother. “I was the one who said Bilbo would do anything to impress Uncle, even if it puts us through labor exploitation.” Kili rolled his eyes and continued listening to the meeting.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo’s sudden assertion but then gave a small, appreciative smile. “These numbers shall be noted. We shall strive to meet that timeline.”

Gandalf cleared his throat and addressed the group again. “Let’s ensure that the necessary preparations are in place. The coronation must not only be a celebration but also a demonstration of unity and strength.”

As the meeting continued, Thorin found himself glancing at Bilbo occasionally, looking at all of the features on his face with each glance. Bilbo found himself doing the exact same thing, and also looked in careful detail at the dwarf’s face.

“Ú-beriadir thent in huin nîn” (They can’t get their eyes off each other) whispered Tauriel to Legolas.

"Elo! Egor laughl!” ("It is so obvious, and it is hilarious") Legolas replied with a soft chuckle.

Thorin, sensing the quiet exchange, refocused on the discussion. “Balin, ensure that the security measures for the ceremony are robust. We cannot afford any disruptions.”

“Aye, Thorin,” Balin confirmed. “Dwalin and I will see to it personally.”

Bard added, “My men will be positioned strategically throughout the city. Safety and order will be maintained.”

More details for the ceremony were discussed as the day passed: the feast, the numbers in the ceremony, the party, the rest of the guests, and more. Everything was almost ready to begin preparing for this important event, which made everyone feel excited and nervous about the next few weeks that would come.

When the meeting concluded and everyone was heading out of the meeting hall, Thorin motioned for Bilbo to join him. They walked together through the majestic halls of Erebor, the echoes of their planning still lingering in the air.

“Your dedication to this cause is invaluable, Bilbo,” Thorin said sincerely. “I rely on your wisdom and steadfastness more than you know.”

Bilbo smiled warmly. “And I rely on your leadership and strength, Thorin. Together, we will ensure everything goes according to plan.”

Thorin paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Bilbo, there is something I wish to discuss with you, unrelated to the meetings.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow curiously. “Of course, Thorin. What is it?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “It’s about the future, about Erebor, and… about us.”

Bilbo’s heart skipped a few beats, sensing the gravity in Thorin’s tone. “Go on.”

“I’ve come to realize,” Thorin began, his voice earnest, “that amidst all these preparations and responsibilities, you’ve become more than just my advisor and my friend. You’ve become…” He searched for the right word, his eyes meeting Bilbo’s with intense admiration and affection. “My anchor.”

Bilbo felt a warm wave spread through him, touched by Thorin’s words. “Thorin, I…”

“Bilbo,” Thorin interrupted gently, reaching out to take Bilbo’s hand in his. “I want you by my side not just as an advisor, but as…” He paused, his thumb gently tracing Bilbo’s knuckles. “As someone dear to me, someone I trust with my life and my kingdom.”

Bilbo’s heart raced, emotions swirling within him. “Thorin, I… I feel the same way. I trust you with my life.”

Thorin’s eyes softened, his grip on Bilbo’s hand tightening ever so slightly. “Will you stay by my side, through the coronation and beyond?”

Bilbo nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes, Thorin. I will.”

Thorin's expression softened further, a sense of relief washing over him as he embraced Bilbo tightly with his arms, slightly lifting him off the ground. Bilbo chuckled at this expression and smiled widely.

"You are so dear and special to me, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said softly, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonated in the quiet moment between them.

Thorin's gaze held Bilbo's, gratitude and affection mingling in his eyes. "You are dearer to me, Bilbo Baggins. I am eternally grateful for your presence," he murmured, holding both of Bilbo’s hands in his, caressing them slightly.

As they stood there, amidst the fading echoes of the voices around them, Bilbo felt a profound sense of peace within him. He knew there were challenges ahead, and an uncertain future to face, but in that moment, all that mattered was the bond they shared and the promise they made to each other.

***

Notes:

UN APLAUSO PA ESTA PAREJA QUE ESTÁ ENAMORADAAAAAA

QUE VIVA EL AMOOOOOOOOOOR