#when the only dragon of Erebor loves dwarflings not gold

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: The Hoardless Dragon

Summary: Thorin has been waiting his whole life for something interesting to happen in Erebor, and when Tharkun arrives with a “dragon expert” to warn of Smaug’s survival he thinks he may have gotten his wish. However, Thror falling in and out of the gold madness its beneficial to Erebor’s defenses, and it may be that there is more than one dragon to fear.

Tharkun has always been a curious character. Thorin may only be twenty-three, but he knew enough to recognize at least this fact. First off, he carried himself as neither man nor elf. Thorin has always been amicable to the men of Dale, much to his grandfather’s chagrin. Even to a lesser extent, his own father seemed hesitant over his friendship with Girion’s son. Flawed they may be, Thorin would describe men as a race as being unchiseled rock. Rough, but hiding their true value deep within. He would never use this to describe Tharkun.

Likewise, the elves had an almost ethereal, and in Thranduil’s case, haughty air about them that also didn’t apply to the wizard. Tharkun carried the same wisdom and experience as the ageless race, but he was also warm and wizened like he came to expect of men. He could even argue that Tharkun was secretive and stubborn like his own people if his battle of wits with his grandfather was any indication. Yes, Tharkun was odd. However, he was also kind. He encouraged Thorin’s curiosity of what lay beyond the gates of Erebor with tales of stone giants and great eagles. Battles fought long ago, and hidden lands of green hills and little people.

Thror may look at the eccentric being and sneer, but Thrain and Thorin were in near agreement that Tharkun was a true Khuzdbâha (dwarf-friend). That’s not to say Thorin was blind to the fact that Tharkun was a meddlesome interloper who preferred to speak in riddles. Thorin was third in line for the throne after all, and he knew how to watch for a politician’s half-truths. Still, when the herald rushed into the throne room to announce the arrival of the grey wizard, Thorin found himself fidgeting beside his grandfather’s throne in excitement.

Thrain’s eyes were twinkling as he looked over his father’s head at him. Still his words were reprimantory. 

“Thorin, behave.”

The young prince ducked his head trying his best to calm himself. He still wasn’t quite used to throne room behavior, and was constantly being reminded to behave. His mother was in fits that he had to attend open court at all thinking him still too young. He was proud of the fact that his father was already training him in his duties to the crown. However, he knew his father wouldn’t have sprung it on him at all if it wasn’t for his grandfather’s declining health. 

It was something Thrain and Fris did well to hide from their children, but Thorin wasn’t blind. The days of Thror encouraging Thorin and Frerin in their mischief as they tried to sneak by his office or taking him into the forge to experience his first taste at smithing were far behind him. Now, he could barely catch his grandfather’s attention so absorbed was he in his gold. Even raised to appreciate the might and beauty of Erebor, Thorin had a hard time understanding why his grandfather spent so much time with his gold and gems. Even his smiles and laughter were now replaced with ice glares and harsh words. Thorin loved his grandfather, but he was not so sure that his grandfather loved him anymore. Whatever strange inflection has taken Thror, Thorin hoped Tharkun held the cure.

The doors to the throne room were thrown open once more as Tharkun was escorted down the path with four guards stationed inside. A new precaution his grandfather deemed important to take as of late. Tharkun made no motion that the blatant display of distrust bothered him as he swept his way to the bottom of the steps with a deep bow and wide grin.

“Hail Thror, son of Dain. Hail Thrain, son of Thror. Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. It pleases me greatly to see the sons of Durin in good health and prosperity.”

Thror was content to glare down at the wizard so Thrain took it upon himself to greet their guest.

“Hail Tharkun! If we had known you would be arriving, we would have already pulled out the good mead. As it is, if you intend to join us for dinner tonight, I would see it done.”

“You do know how to tempt me, dear friend. As much as I would like to revel in pleasantries, I believe business must come first.”

“Yes, what storm follows in your wake this time, Tharkun Amsâlakhzar (bringer of bad luck)?” Thror mused.

The room was immediately filled with tension as Tharkun’s eyes narrowed on Erebor’s king in tight scrutiny. He’s never actually seen it in action, but Cousin Fundin, used to tell Thorin stories of Tharkun’s raw power, and how you never anger a wizard. The dwarf prince was half-afraid he was about to get a firsthand account.

“Ha!”

The sudden noise seemed to startle everyone in the room as Thorin turned his head just noticing for the first time that Tharkun did not arrive alone. The strangest being Thorin had ever seen in his life stepped out from behind the wizard. He stood merely an inch or two taller than Thorin which was on the small side for a dwarf. His beardless face, large wooly feet, and slightly pointed ears hidden by bronze curls stood in stark contrast to what Thorin was used to with his own kind having never seen another species of their height. Even his fashion was bizarre with the short trousers, perfectly tailored vest, and a velvet jacket of all things. That’s when Thorin remembered Tharkun’s stories of the little people on the other side of the world. This creature must be a halfling!

“I suppose you had every reason to fear, Grey Wizard, I’ll give you that much.” The halfling snorted, deriving some sort of depravatated humor from the situation.

“And what is this?” Thror demanded.

“Not what, Your Majesty, who. You can be knee deep in a dragon spell, and still have some manners about you.” The smaller male mocked.

Thorin had a detached bewilderment as he watched the impending mine-collapse. His own father didn’t speak to Thror so brazenly, and by the tightened grip on the stone throne, this matter would not be taken lightly. Still he couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘dragon spell’?

“How silly of me!” Tharkun forced the diversion even as his hands tightened on his staff. “King Thror, Prince Thrain, Prince Thorin, allow me to introduce Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

At this the halfling gave a small nod of his head raising the ire of his grandfather. The smaller male would be lucky to leave with his life if he continued on this way. However, Master Baggins' attention then swept over to Thorin himself, and the halfling seemed caught off-guard for the first time tilting his head just slightly as he blinked slowly. The halfling’s hand immediately went to the golden band on his right hand, and he began to fiddle with it while narrowing his eyes on Thorin. 

“Why is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire in my mountain?” Thror snarled, pulling Thorin’s attention back to his grandfather and the wizard.

“Bilbo has been my traveling companion as of late.” Tharkun smiled, seeming to think the conversation was back on his terms.

“Not voluntarily, mind you.” The halfling grumbled earning a small whack on his back from the wizard’s staff.

Thorin had to duck his head to hide his mirth at the scene, but when he looked back up the halfling was watching him again. This time with more fondness, as he gave the prince a wry grin and a quick wink.

“You see, I asked Mister Baggins to join me because I noticed stirrings to the north.” Tharkun remarked casually enough.

“Stirrings of what?” Thrain asked curiously.

“That my Prince, is the right question.” Tharkun smiled brightly before his face and tone fell grave in the blink of an eye. “The fire-drake, Smaug, is awakening from his slumber, and he seems to be sniffing out a new hoard to bed in even as we speak. If you do not take precautions, I fear his sights may fall to Erebor.”

The wizard’s warning was met with silence. Thorin wouldn’t lie. There was a small part of him that thought this was fantastic news. Nothing exciting ever happens in Erebor! The entire time he’s shadowed his father, it’s been nothing but boring council meetings, numbers and figures, even their trips down to Dale had become tedious. Now, though, there was something exciting to occupy his attention, and he couldn’t deny that part of him that wanted to charge headfirst and face down a dragon to earn his epithet. Thorin Dragonslayer, they would call him!

Outwardly, he portrayed the same concern he could see on his father’s face. Then his grandfather burst into fits of laughter.

“You have told some tall tales, Wizard, but this one steals the prize! A dragon! Next you’re going to tell me Durin’s Bane itself is knocking on my doors.”

“It is no jest, King Thror.” Tharkun insisted with a tight expression.

Thror sobered up some, but still seemed to discredit the grey figure’s words.

“I have been chased from my home by a dragon before. I know the signs. Erebor is prosperous, it will not fall. Especially to a fire-drake that has been extinct for ages!”

“You ignore the signs.” Mister Baggins stepped forth once more. “They are all here, King Under the Mountain, and the fire-breather Smaug lives as well as a few that your people refer to as cold-drakes. Why, it wouldn’t shock me to find Eisigem still sleeps in Dain’s Halls.”

“Enough, you impertinent imp!” Thror cried, jumping to his feet.

Thorin’s hand fell to his sword at his waist along with the other guards even though he was conflicted about attacking Tharkun and his companion. Still, the hobbit offered his grandfather great insult, and he was not about to deny that.

“Who are you to question the word of the king?” Thror demanded.

Mister Baggins’ lips were pressed in a tight line, and once glance at the dark look from Gandalf sealed his sour mood.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Mister Baggins replied in a clipped tone. “I am but a simple hobbit, and it is clear that I overreached my station.”

“A simple hobbit, in the service of this ustar (interferer).”

“Gandalf is an...old friend. He called on me for a favor, and I found myself in the position of being able to fulfill his request.” Mister Baggins offered in response.

Thror gradually seated himself once more, and Thorin relaxed the grip on his blade. Tharkun stepped in at that point, half shielding the smaller being behind his person.

“Bilbo, you see, is something of a dragon expert.” The wizard offered. “I thought his knowledge would benefit Erebor well with the terrible news I’ve brought.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo with renewed interest. A dragon expert? How many of the beasts had he slain to earn such a title? Thorin found himself hungry for the halfling’s story perhaps more so than he ever yearned for Tharkun’s own.

“Aye, a dragon expert.” Thror huffed wryly. “Why he looks more grocer than warrior. Axe or sword, Mister Baggins, what is your choice?”

He smirked darkly in response to the king’s blatant mocking as he continued to fiddle with the ring on his finger in agitation. “Neither. I’m more fond of using my bare hands and teeth.” 

Thror huffed, not impressed with the hobbit’s jest even as Tharkun shifted uncomfortably. 

“Your Majesty, I have not brought Bilbo to advise you on how to slay dragons, but on how to prevent their arrival because Smaug is coming. Perhaps not any time soon, but the treasure beneath your feet will be far too alluring, I fear.” 

A tense silence fell over the room, and Thorin wanted to shut his eyes against the storm he knew to come. If there was one thing he had learned very well, it was that you did not mention gold in Thror’s presence.

“I see.” Came the unexpectedly calm reply. “You have not brought a dragon expert, but a burglar in my mountain. And use your insane theories of dragons as a front to rob me blind!”

“Your Majesty…” Tharkun began before Thror cut him off, banging his fist on his throne.

“SILENCE!” Thror roared. “I ought to kill you now for such insolence.”

“DO NOT THREATEN ME, THROR SON OF DAIN!” 

Like everyone in the room, Thorin shrunk away from the shadows that manifested outwards from Tharkun. Thrain broke protocol to place himself protectively in front of Thorin, and the guards stepped in front of the royal family. None approached Tharkun as they were quickly reminded the wanderer was in fact a wizard of great power.

“I’m not here to rob you!” Tharkun continued before the shadows suddenly died down, and his expression turned soft. “I’m trying to help you.”

There was no movement that followed as all eyes watched the king to see what he would do next. Thorin’s grandfather looked taut as a rope in a pulley. His eyes narrowed as if weighing his chances against the wizard in battle. Thrain’s hand squeezed Thorin’s arm in a reassuring manner, but his eyes remained on Tharkun just as his war hammer remained in his other hand. Thror finally got up and walked to the edge of the dais using its height to tower over Tharkun.

“Get out of my kingdom. You and your abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendent of rats).”

Tharkun’s chin jutted out proudly at the king’s order. Thorin’s eyes sought out the halfling to see how he would react to the slur. Only, the smaller being was no longer behind Tharkun’s cloak. He seemed to be the only one to realize this as his eyes darted over the chamber before finally landing on the halfling’s form. Thorin made a strangled sound in surprise as he jumped away from the throne. All eyes, including Master Baggins’, fell on Thorin as he merely stared in open mouth shock at the being standing on the king’s throne holding the Arkenstone close to his mouth. Almost as if he were speaking to it though Thorin couldn’t make out the words.

“T-THIEF! H-HOW DARE...AKLÂF MENU (curse you)!” Thror sputtered before coming to life and heaving his sword high above his head to smite the halfling.

Thorin could only watch in horror as Bilbo Baggins, dragon expert and friend of Tharkun, remained resolute in his execution, still whispering to the gem. Just when he was about to be struck down, the halfling’s eyes bore into Thror’s own, stopping Thorin’s grandfather in his tracks. It was as if time had been frozen around them. Thorin felt the itch to take a step forward, but Thrain still had his arm securely wrapped around the other. The guards also seemed uneasy about this strange spell being wove around their king and whether they could interfere. Tharkun only watched on with a narrowed, but unsurprised gaze.

Only a few seconds had passed, though they felt like a lifetime, when the Arkenstone’s light dimmed, and iron clattered against the ground. Thorin looked around wildly, but every adult had dropped their weapons and were staring at each other and the halfling with an awed fascination. Thorin looked up at his father as even he loosened his grip breathing deeply as if it were his first out of a long sleep.

“What did you do?” Thrain murmured softly.

The halfling merely hopped off the stone throne, straightening out his vest and jacket before approaching Thror. The king had sunk to his knees, but his blue eyes, the same eyes Thorin had inherited, looked brighter and troubled all at once.

“This is not a jewel, Your Majesty.” Master Baggins began still looking only at the king as he held out the Arkenstone. “This is a petrified dragon heart.”

Gasps rang throughout the room.

“While not as potent as a real dragon heart, it’s been weaving its spell over you all the same. The effects will lessen, though not disappear completely until it’s destroyed. At the very least, I wouldn’t advise putting it back above your head.” The halfling continued to explain as he shoved the stone into Thror’s hands.

“Don’t dragon spells come from locking gazes with the beast?” Thorin asked curiously.

Master Baggins flinched before turning to Thorin with a hard look. His voice, however, was soft and encouraging.

“No, Your Highness. That’s unfortunately a myth. It’s the heartbeat that lulls you.”

“Yes, but...what did you do?” Thrain repeated again.

“I spoke to it in its language and convinced the heart to sleep. Like I said, not a permanent solution, but I do hope it stops the irrational yelling and weapon drawing.”

Thror and Thrain just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You spoke to it…” Thror repeated.

“I did say our friend here was a dragon expert.” Tharkun used this moment to speak up, surprising many who had seemed to forget he was still there.

Thorin watched the hard glare that passed between the two before Master Baggins walked right past the wizard.

“Right, well, if you need me to silence any other madness-inducing gems, I’ll be down in the market. I’m famished.”

The halfling spun on heel, gave a deep bow to the royals, before disappearing out of the hall before anyone could so much as say a word in protest.

“Now, about Smaug…” Tharkun began.

Thror winced as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. 

“Peace Tharkun, it’s been a rather...eventful morning. If you are willing to wait until tomorrow...Erebor would be proud to host you and Master Baggins.”

Thorin stared at his grandfather in shock before a small smile began to split his face. Could it be? Did Tharkun and Master Baggins truly fix Thror? Tharkun’s approving smile managed to give Thorin hope that they had achieved the impossible.

“As His Majesty wishes.” Tharkun bowed.

Thror looked to be trying hard not to roll his eyes as he stepped out through the side entrance. Thrain immediately followed, dragging Thorin along behind him even as the younger prince turned to wave goodbye to Tharkun. Once they were in the relative privacy of the royal halls, Thror wrapped Thrain up in a hug.

“Makkê, birashagammi (My son, I’m sorry).”

Thrain didn’t say anything in return. Just clutched his father a little tighter and if either of the dwarrows were crying, Thorin pretended not to see. Instead he was practically vibrating in his desire to be dismissed so he could tell Frerin, Narvi, and Falvi. Obviously something as amazing as meeting a dragon expert was too big to keep from his best friends in the whole mountain.

“I have no patience to keep up appearances for the rest of the day. I would like to retire and actually enjoy my family once more.” Thror’s voice brought Thorin back to the present conversation just in time for a large grin to split his face.

He may just get his wish after all.

[vee-vee-writes]

Dread (The Hardest Day - Part Four)

A/N: It’s taken me a while to finish this bit as I sort of lost motivation to write it a little. Glad I’ve done it now, planning on finishing it in the next chapter :)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Masterlist

From the moment the company had heard rumbling of Smaug from within the mountain, a change become apparent in Thorin. In a mere moment Thorin had weighed Bilbo's life and decided that it was a cheap price to pay for the possibility of recovering his crowning jewel. No longer was he Thorin the dwarf Lord who did his best by his people, now he was Thorin, King under the Mountain, enraptured by his riches. Even under the imminent threat of Smaug, Thorin had held Bilbo up for the Arkenstone.

Balin and Y/N had shared several knowing looks before the chaos of avoiding Smaug had set in. Though she had been young, the dam had seen some of her great grandfathers’ descent into madness. Thror had gone from a staunch but fair king who doted on his only great grandchild to a husk of a dwarf consumed by gold driven greed. Y/N could only pray that Thorin would not get this bad, that whatever lapse in his judgement had occurred it would pass again. This seemed to be the case as the company banded together to outwit Smaug. Thorin seemed to be more like his usual self. In reality this was but a momentary illusion and as soon as the chaos was over Thorin would begin his quick descent into the dragon sickness.

It had been a day since Smaug had been felled by the bargeman Bard and things had darkened for the company. As soon as Smaug had been defeated, Thorin had begun barking orders. The company were to get a couple of hours of sleep and then they would begin the search for the Arkenstone in the morning. A few of the company had found old bedding and pulled it together in the main hall until the chambers could be cleared. Avoiding the heat of the worm's flames had sapped everybody's energy. The overwhelming defeat Y/N felt at the thought of losing her adad to the sickness coupled with months on the road led her away from the company to find some privacy. After wandering for a while, she came across the royal wing. Weary she made for her parents’ chamber and curled up in the unmade blankets. Even after all this time the dam could faintly smell her amad’s sweet floral perfume on the sheets.

Despite the familiar comfort of curling up in her parents’ bed as she had done as a dwarfling, sleep did not come easy. Uneasiness had set in and would not be lifted so easily. Y/N reached up and gently grasped one of her braids, rolling the metal bead cap between her thumb and index finger. They had been forged in the mountain’s forges by her adad. It was traditional that one parent, typically the adad, handmade braid caps for their infant child. Two sets would be made; one sized for a dwarfling, and the second for when maturity had been reached. Although she had not been big enough to wear her second set, she still had them presently. In the haste of fleeing Erebor, her amad had managed to grab them for her. Y/N was forever grateful for this. Until this journey Thorin had never had the chance to braid them into her hair as would normally happen amongst kin.

Though the two had lost important decades together, they had bonded tremendously in the last few months. The hole created by their separation had finally begun to heal. Y/N feared that the dragon sickness would once again tear them apart. Just as she begun to drift off the door to the chamber swung open and smacked against the stones. Shooting up in bed Y/N flung herself around to look at the door.

In the doorway stood her adad. To say the dam was shocked to see him would be an understatement. His eyes landed on her, softening from the stone cold position they had adopted. “What are you doing in here, Mizimelûh (jewel of all jewels)?” he broke the silence. Y/N thought about lying to him for a moment but decided not too. “I am frightened and this felt like a safe place to come. It always was in the past” she hesitantly admitted. “Frightened? Why, did somebody do something to you? What happened?” Thorin demanded, temper flaring at the thought of someone hurting his most precious loved one. “No! Nothing like that. I-I was worried about you” Y/N adverted her eyes from him as she spoke. Thorin raised an eyebrow at her, almost commanding her to continue.

The dark look had crept back into his eyes and a hostility had become noticeable in his stance. “Smaug lay on the gold in Erebor for 60 years. Dragon sickness already ran in our bloodline before that. I am worried that it will take over your mind the way it did grandfathers’, adad” tears had begun to trickle down her face as she confessed to Thorin. A sigh left his lips and he moved over to perch on the side of the bed. He grasped the edge of the blanket and used it to gently dry the tears from her eyes. “I understand your concern Mizimelûh (jewel of all jewels), but I am not my grandfather. I promise you no sickness will take over my mind. I will live clear headed to see the restoration of our home and the return of our kin” Thorin assured, “get some sleep. Wehave much to discuss tomorrow and I will need you in the search for the King’s jewel.” With that he stroked her cheek, bid her a goodnight, and left the chamber. Once Thorin was gone, the weight of his words begun to sink in. They did little to assure the girl, though she tried to be optimistic as she fell into a fitful sleep.

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @thewhiteladyofrohan @tschrist1

[cassowariess]

The Things We Want

Pairing(s): Bofur x Bilbo

Rating: T

Warnings: None (that I know of?)

Words: 2,049

His mother had taught him that what someone wanted did not always align with what a loved one needed.

When he had been a dwarfling he had caught a shiny, green beetle in a jar and excitedly brought it into the kitchen where his mother was preparing the evening meal.

“Look, amad! I found him in the grass!”

She had knelt down to look, smiled and patted him on the head.

“Just make sure you let it go when you're done looking at it.”

“Why?”

“Because it'll die if you don't.”

“I don't want it to die, but I want to keep it. I can feed it!”

“Sometimes the best way to care for something is to let it go.”

“I don't want to let it go!”

“Bofur, it's not about wanting. It's about caring and doing the right thing. That insect needs to be outside in the grass. That is where it belongs.”

Bofur sniffled, the tears threatening to spill. His mother softened and knelt next to him.

“Sometimes if we love something we have to give it what it needs, not what we want. And who knows? You might see it again in the grass. It might be the very same bug.”

Bofur clung to the jar. After a moment of sullenly looking down at his shoes, he said: “Can I keep it for tonight and let it go in the morning?”

“Yes, I think that would be okay.”

The beetle did not survive the night.

Bofur had wailed loudly and his mother never scolded him, never said “I told you so” or anything of the sort, but he learnt a lesson anyway.

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Bofur enjoys being around the hobbit. A small, fussy thing that seems to become riled up easily, and oh how glorious it is when the halfling sputters and fusses and becomes flustered and his face turns red. Though he's wonderful to tease, Bofur tones it back a bit when he sees Bilbo become visibly distressed.

“I'm only joshing, ye know,” he says. “I don't mean it. I do it to Bombur all the time too and he's me brother.”

Bilbo is beginning to calm down from his latest bout of irritated, flustered stammering.

“I only tease people because I think they'll get a laugh out of it too. It's no fun if the teasing starts to hurt people I care about.”

“That's more than the rest of this lot do.”

“They care! It'll just take a while for them to warm t'ya.”

Bilbo looks as though he might cry.

“Bilbo, I really didn't mean it. Truth be told, you've been a bâheluh ta me on this quest.”

“What does that mean?”

Bofur looks up at him.“It means friend of all friends.”

“Like a best friend?”

“Aye.”

Bofur had very much enjoyed the evenings when he and Bilbo would sit and swap stories and songs. They'd even come up with a tune they'd entitled: “The Man in the Moon stayed up Too Late.” But it was clear Bofur's abrasive humour wasn't always what a tired, grumpy hobbit would find amusing.

Bombur elbows Bofur in the side. “Bofur,” he scolds. “We aren't supposed to speak the secret language to people who aren't dwarves.”

“We can trust Bilbo,” says Bofur confidently, and turns to Bilbo with a wink. “Ye won't tell anyone, will ye Bilbo?”

A soft smile appears on the halfling's face. “I won't,” he says brightly, pleased to have been privy to something that was meant to be kept secret.

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Bofur clings to the hobbit, dragging him as far from the cliff face and against the wall as he possibly can. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. If Thorin hadn't gotten there in time the hobbit would have fallen. He's glad the rain hides his tears of relief. He and Ori continue to fuss over the burglar while Dwalin pulls up their king, who admonishes Bilbo.

Bofur knows the look on Bilbo's face. All the work he'd done to try to get the hobbit to feel accepted was coming undone. He hopes Bilbo doesn't decide to leave them. Yes, he has Bifur and Bombur to keep him company, among a crowd of high born dwarves but neither of them are very talkative, or at least, don't talk as much about things that interest Bofur, like songs and stories. The hobbit likes to talk about comforting things, and Bofur also feels less alone when Bilbo confides his fears in him. For Bofur is sometimes afraid of what they might encounter on this mad adventure too, and it makes him feel safer to know that he isn't the only one that is afraid, and safer still when he can protect Bilbo from things that might hurt him.

But he's not been very good at it so far. He'd not been able to reach the hobbit on the cliff face, and he'd not been able to protect him from the king's words.

So when he asks where Bilbo thinks he's going when the halfling tries to sneak past him on his watch, deep down he already knows.

“Back to Rivendell.”

Bofur pleads with him not to leave and Bilbo ends up hitting a tender spot within Bofur when he says they don't belong anywhere.

“I am sorry!” Bilbo looks all flustered and embarrassed and this time it isn't amusing.

“No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere” whispers Bofur.

But Bilbo does. He has his green Shire to go back to, where he'll be safe and happy and healthy. It's what the hobbit needs. Bofur pats his friend on the shoulder.

“I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do.”

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Thorin is pacing within the walls of Erebor and Bofur feels like he is trapped in a cage with a panther that could lash out at any moment. Or maybe it's more like being around a dragon.

The king is hoarding Bilbo. Bofur is as sure that the king is trying to hoard him as he is the huge mountain of gold they are all sitting on. Thorin rarely leaves Bilbo's side, whispers to Bilbo in dark corners. Shoots glares at everyone.

The halfling weathers it but he often looks uncomfortable.

They are all uncomfortable. Thorin's flaws have been completely magnified until they are distorted, twisted versions of what they once were—simply flaws, as any dwarf would have. Now they are dangerous things and Bofur isn't sure that one of them wouldn't die if they opposed him.

He can never get near enough to Bilbo to speak to him. He fears for all of them, but he fears for the little burglar the most.

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He catches Bilbo trying to escape.

“You should be inside, out of the wind,” he says, thinking he doesn't want the burglar to catch a cold. The thought seems incredibly silly given they are on the brink of war, but he can't help but voice it.

“No, I'm just...getting some air,” says Bilbo, looking rather nervous. “The place stinks of dragon.”

Bofur gives him a knowing look and the corners of his moustache twitch in an involuntary smile.

“No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere,” says the dwarf.

Bilbo does a double take at him and Bofur looks up at the stars. “Must be near midnight! Bombur's got the next watch. It'll take a bit to wake him.”

He starts walking down the stairs to the hall.

“Bofur!”

He turns and looks at Bilbo.

“I will see you in the morning,” says the hobbit, who looks as if he's beating back tears.

“Goodbye, Bilbo,” Bofur manages to say with the steadiest voice he can muster.

He turns away again, giving the burglar his chance to escape, and he realizes in that sharp, clear moment that he has freed something he wanted to keep so very badly.

He reaches the room he shares with his brother and nudges him awake. When Bombur leaves to take up his post, Bofur curls up in bed, still covered in armour. There's no point in taking it off. They all might die tomorrow. At least Bilbo would be safe though. At least he will have gotten away. Bofur falls into a restless sleep. He dreams of shiny beetles that melt away into gold coins.

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On any other morning, Bofur would have been delighted to see the hobbit. Instead he feels terrified as Thorin threatens to throw the halfling onto the rocks below. He's about to rush towards the king when Gandalf's thundering voice saves the day.

Bofur quickly bundles up the hobbit as Thorin shoves him to one side. He feels too much at once. Fear, elation that Bilbo is alive, anger that he didn't stay away, and the crushing knowledge that this is going to be the third time he has to say goodbye to the hobbit, for there is no other option.

Instead all he manages is “I'm sorry...go.” The words feel inadequate but there all he can manage. He wishes he could nurse his heartache, but war has been declared and there is no time.

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The fourth time he says goodbye to Bilbo, he feels he has no right to say anything to the halfling. Bilbo has watched three of his friends die on the battlefield. The rest of them were lucky enough to come out physically unscathed. He feels guilty that the hobbit came on this quest in the first place. He feels guilty that Bilbo has been through so much for them. He now owns 1/14th of a share of the treasure in the mountain. He's now one of the richest dwarves in Middle Earth and it feels like none of it was worth it because of what it put Bilbo through. None of it was worth the deaths of a king and his sister sons either. He doesn't even want it.

Of course he wants to beg the hobbit not to leave. He wants to hug him, tell him everything that he feels. But he can't. It isn't right. It's not what Bilbo needs. He needs to go home to his cozy hobbit hole and garden and lush green fields. And what Bofur wants isn't as important as what Bilbo needs.

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It is a year later when a letter arrives via raven.

Bofur, now a wealthy dwarf, has used a miniscule portion of his fortune to hire a tutor. While he's now not as literate as he'd like to be, he's making good progress. So are Bifur and Bombur. He'd been reluctant to learn to read, but once he realized he was going to be surrounded by upper class dwarves with better education, he made sure he'd taken steps to ensure he and his family weren't out of their depth.

So he's still unfamiliar with some of the words on paper, but there are some that leap out at him on the page.

Miss you

Need

Lonely

Bâheluh

Bofur's eyes grow wet as he reads the last word.

He rushes off to find Bifur and Bombur. He'll need to tell them why he's leaving.

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It's raining, and the daylight has faded, but Bofur can still make out the shape of Bilbo lying next to him in the dark. Having dwarvish eyesight certainly helps, and he is glad of it.

He runs a thick finger gently over the slope of the sleeping hobbit's back, revelling in the feel of soft skin. Then he gently touches the hobbit's face, carefully rubbing his thumb over Bilbo's cheek. The calming sound of the rain thudding on the roof of the smial and the soft breathing of the little creature next to him make Bofur feel a thousand times more contented than being in a mountain filled with gold and elite dwarrow.

Bilbo shifts in the dim light. “Mmm...Bofur?” he says. “What time is it?”

“Not sure,” says the dwarf truthfully. His eyes never leave Bilbo's face, his hand carefully showing Bilbo how much he adores him by roaming over soft curls and the curve of his ear.

Bilbo giggles, and even in the dark Bofur can tell his face is red and flustered.

“What are you staring at?” Bilbo laughs.

“You,” says Bofur.

And as the former burglar's lips meet his, he laughs happily into Bilbo's mouth in the knowledge that finally, he has found something he wants that he can keep.

[branching-paths]

Of Eggs, Fireworks and, Mud

AN; Ok, this is in the drafts/queue thing 1/6, It’s set to post next week at this time, I hope it works, if it does I’ll delete this AN, this is really just for me

 Thorin wasn't kidding when he said first light. Someone kicked my leg, flinging my eyes open. I shot my hand out from under my torso and pulled who ever kicked me off their feet. Of course, this all happened at once, before the poor soul had even pulled away his toes, wait.... Toes?     "Sorry Bilbo," I said as he hit the ground. I sat up and blinked sleep out of my eyes. It took a moment for the hobbit to respond.     "How in the Shire did you do that," He asked. He sat up holding his head. I shrugged.     "Reflexes, by Durin, is it even dawn yet?!"     "Barely-"     "Stop chatting you two," Thorin yelled from behind the fire, where he was destroying breakfast. That's when I sprang to my feet and stalked over to Thorin.     "What are you doing," I asked. He frowned up at me, his mouth half open.     "Making food, what else would I be doing, burning the hobbit's foot hair?!" Bilbo looked at his feet then back at Thorin, a hint of bemusement in his eyes. Thorin pointed a spatula at me, wagging it slightly. "You two are going to saddle the ponies." I laughed, and wiped a fake tear from my eye.     "Wake someone else Hobbit, I must save the food," I said, getting ready to take the spatula from Thorin. Bilbo glanced around the camp, then walked towards Bofur. Thorin frowned at me and drew the spatula back towards the pan he held over the fire.     "I can cook," He growled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I snorted and crouched next to him, my hand extended.

    "No you can't, now give it here," I said, giving him a look. He ignored me, and that's when I pounced, quite literally. Thorin dropped the spatula and frying pan over the coals and grabbed my stomach, throwing me over him. I landed on my back and growled as Thorin gave a triumphant smirk, returning to the frying pan. I punched his arm and he dropped the frying pan back onto the coals. I shoved him over and grabbed the pan, flipping the eggs that Thorin had yet to burn.     "Oi, give that back," Thorin said, grabbing for the pan with a smile on his face. I turned my back to him, holding the pan in front of me so he couldn't grab it.     "No way, these will be too burned to do anything if I let you cook!" I elbowed him in the chest, shoving him away. Thorin chuckled and grabbed my shoulder, turning me around and grabbed the pan again. "NO I WON'T SUFFER ANOTHER BURNT EGG!"     "I don't burn them, I make them brown on the edges!" I put my foot on his chest and shoved him away, holding the pan away from him again. He reached, a big, un-kingly grin on his face, a chuckle deep in his throat. Gandalf cleared his throat, and our head turned towards the company, who were looking at us with bemused looks. I lowered my foot as Thorin lowered his hands and moved back towards the coals. Fili looked at me, then at Thorin, blinking a few times as his eyes moved between us.     "Who are you and what have you done with Thorin," He asked at last. I chuckled as I removed an egg from the pan. Thorin shook his head and stood up, brushing himself off. Thorin turned to me and gave me a half smirk half frown.     "I do not burn anything," He said as he walked past. I snorted and dumped another egg into the frying pan. How Bombur had managed to keep over four dozen eggs from breaking for four days was beyond me. Kili sat down next to me, smirking. Crap...     "Good morning," He said. He sighed and looked over a stick that was obviously bare. He poked the coals with it until it was charred, then he twirled it in his hands. "Is it always going to be like that," He asked as he twirled the stick. I looked sideways at him, then back to the pan where I was scrapping a piece of egg off.     "Is what going to be like what," I asked. Kili grunted and looked at his stick again.     "You and Thorin always fighting like that," He said. I turned to him and held the hot spatula not even an inch in front of his nose. Kili's fingers fumbled and he dropped the stick as he stared at the spatula.     "First off, that will never happen, and even if it does, it won't be like that," I growled at him. I lowered the spatula and he slumped as he let out the breath he was holding. A few minuets later, I picked up the last egg and wondered if there were any other eggs in there. I peered into the bag and smiled. At the bottom were some fireworks, pretty big fireworks. I cracked the last egg and pulled out the fireworks, making sure nobody saw me switch them from one bag to the other. Everyone else was saddling their ponies, so nobody saw me. I shoved the fireworks into my sack and returned to the fire just as everyone came back from saddling their ponies. Fili, Kili and Bilbo were deep in conversation, laughing every so often. I knew instantly that nothing good could come out of it. Everyone grabbed an egg and slurped it down, Bombur taking the one that I just set on the plate, so he ate with much yelling, we ate with much choking. We set out the fire and mounted our steeds and rode east again. Around noon, when we were walking to give the ponies a break, Fili and Kili burst into song, one that they made when they were little.          "We're off to ride the dragon, the great big dragon named Smag," They shouted. "Because, because, because, BEECAAAUSSSEE, we want to know what it's like to fly! DA-DEE-DA-DEE-DUM-DEE-DA! WE'RE OFF TO RIDE THE DRAGON, THE GREAT BIG DRAGON NAMED SMAG!"     "I think you mean slay," Thorin yelled when they finished. Fili and Kili looked at each other, shrugged and started up again.     "We're off to slay the dragon, the evil big dragon named Smag, because, because, because, because, BEECAAUSSEE! HE STOLE ALL OF UNCLE'S GOLD! DA-DEE-DA-DEE-DUM-DEE-DA! WE'RE OFF TO SLAY THE DRAGON, THE EVIL BIG DRAGON NAMED SMAG!" The laughter I had been holding back was out now, and I wasn't the only one.     "A wonderful presentation boys," Gandalf said. "But I believe that you are mispronouncing the name-"     "It's meant to be mispronounced, wizard," I shouted. "When they first found out about it, neither of them-" Fili and Kili had walked beside me and clamped their hands over my mouth.     "Don't pay her any mind," Kili said.     "Taking care of Thorin and Oin the past few days has made her brain a bit befuddled," Fili added. Thorin rolled his eyes and turned his head so he could look at the company. Fili's eyes widened and he let go of my mouth. He ran ahead to cover Thorin's but he said it first.     "They couldn't pronounce anything when they were little, and it's another mockery towards him, so we didn't press."     "We could pronounce things, couldn't we Fee," Kili yelled, removing his hands from my mouth. Fili bit his lips and looked sheepishly at his younger brother. Kili frowned and waited until Fili was next to him again. "We could, right?"     "Not exactly," Fili said at last. I gave a big cheeky grin and took a deep breath.     "Hey Thorin, do you remember when they mispronounced Nork's name, and he turned purple," I yelled. Everyone laughed, making Fili and Kili bury their reddening faces in their pony's manes.     "No need to embarrass them further, Myrin," Thorin yelled back, a smirk on his face. My grin widened.     "What about you, may I embarrass you," I asked, trying not to laugh. I saw Thorin stiffen, turn around, his teeth grinding.     "No you may not," He growled. Of course you can, is what I heard. I clapped my hands together and rubbed them.     "Alrighty then," I said. Thorin turned back around and settled back into marching next to his pony. "Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Erebor, there were four terrible dwarflings! Their names were Thorin, the crown prince, Frerin, his younger brother, Dis, the most lovely, and Myrin, the second worst, only to Thorin!"     "Myrin, knock it off, or so help me," Thorin yelled. I paid him no mind.     "Lets see now, what story should I tell..."     "Amad was a trouble maker," Kili asked.     "Must be where you get it from," Fili said.     "I know," I shouted. "One little Myrin's sixth birthday, she had to sing a song. Now, I know a few of you think that the birthday person should be sung to, but she had to sing to everyone else. So she sang the one song she knew, the Man in the Moon." Everyone took a collective gasp.     "You sang what," Bofur shouted.     "That's not a song that a small lady dwarfling should ever sing," Gloin added.     "What's Man in the Moon," Bilbo asked. Bofur and I took a deep breath and sang.     "Theeerrrreeee'sss aaaann, inn. There's an inn, there's a merry old inn," Bofur shouted.     "Beneath an old gray hill," I added.     "And there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon HIMSELF came down, one night to drink his fill," We finished together. As we caught our breath to sing the second verse, everyone shouted threats.     "If you sing another sentence, I'll skin you alive," Dori shouted, which was the most threatening thing I had ever heard him say. Ori looked at his older brother shocked.     "The ostler has a tipsy cat," Bofur continued.     "That plays a five-string-fiddle," I added again.     "And up and down he saws his bow."     "Now squeaking HIGH!"     "Now purring low.... Now sawing in the middle! Now the cat with the fiddle played 'Hay diddle, diddle' a jig that will wake the dead! He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, while the land-lord shook the man in the moon."     "IT'S AFTER THREE HE SAID!" I ducked as someone threw a pine-cone at me. Bofur took a deep breath to add a third verse, but Gandalf shouted.     "Master Dwarf, if I hear another verse, so help me I'll turn you into a mouse!" That shut Bofur up with a very mouse like squeak. Kili frowned at me.     "That wasn't very embarrassing, Myrin," He said, rubbing his stubble. I smiled again as I held up my hands.     "Oh I haven't even gotten to the best part," I shouted. "Thorin taught me the song!" Another collective gasp, and all eyes moved to Thorin, who was trying to scowl at me, but it wasn't quite working with a smile taking over his face.     "First off, I was only nine," He defended. "So don't go pinning this on me!"     "Who taught it to you," Dori shouted. Thorin opened his mouth, then shut it back up. "Come one, give us a name!" Thorin shook his head.     "Doesn't matter who taught it to me," He said with a snort.     "But you taught it to me, and that's what matters," I shouted. Thorin attempted to glare at me again. His face was so funny, half scowl and half smirk, that I had to lean on Lakita to stay walking. The glare from his face disappeared, replaced by an evil smirk.     "Better then the dress," He snarled. My laughter disappeared as my head snapped up.     "What was that," I asked, wiping my eye.     "My tenth birthday, the one you weren't supposed to go to, but we smuggled you in-"     "DON'T TELL THEM!" Fili looked at me, Kili cocked his head to the left. Bilbo lifted his brow.     "Tell us what," Bilbo asked. Thorin grinned at me, looking positively evil at this point.     "Myrin hated dresses when she was little, so to sneak her into my birthday party, we shoved her into a huge, puffy, pink dress that she simply wanted to-ACK!" I bowled into Thorin, covering his mouth with my hand.     "You. Will. Not. TELL THEM!" Thorin narrowed his eyes at me, and too late did I realize what he was doing. He launched his hands to my sides and started to tickle me. I shooed away his arms and backed up.     "I believe that Lori drew a picture of you, actually," Thorin said. Ori perked up and walked around his pony.     "So that's who that was," He shouted. He pulled out a notebook and flipped through the pages. I ran towards Ori, grabbing for the notebook, but Nori snatched it out of his brother's hand, and threw it towards Bofur, who was at the back of the line. I ran towards him, only to get there the same second he threw it at Fili, who threw it to Thorin. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but I think it was like a look of pure terrorized embarrassment. Thorin flipped through the pages and smiled softly.     "I forgot how much of an adorable little imp you were," He cooed. He handed the notebook to Dwalin, who smirked at it, then smirked evilly at me. He handed it to Balin as I pulled  my hood up. I was going to kill Thorin, embarrassing me like this. This wasn't nearly as bad as what I did to him, it was worse... The notebook went through the entire company, Fili and Kili sent out an "AWE!" in unison, then handed it to Bilbo. He smiled and handed it to the next member of the company, sending me a look of pity. Was it really that bad? At last, the notebook made it's way to me, and I peered at the portrait in horror. The picture was of me sleeping at a table, my head gently resting on it. I was in the horrid dress. Four tears with ruffles made up from my hips to the floor, or in this case just past my toes that almost reached the floor from my spot on the chair. From my hips to my shoulders was skin tight, that I remember. I had complained that I would die if I had to last another hour in it. It had sparkles all over it, and my arms were covered in a satin-like fabric, a band of ribbon in the middle of my upper arm, and the middle of my forearm. I had a little play tiara that had fallen off into my piece of cake, where my face was resting. My hair, that had been in a bun, had fallen out and was also in the cake.The boots that I had worn had fallen off, and were piled under my feet. But that wasn't it, oh no. In the back of the picture, all three Durins were looking at me, and a little caption above them said, "Should we let her sleep?" I smiled at it and shut it gently. The horrified expression that was on my face had faded into a smile. I tied the knot and gave it back to Ori, who smiled at me.     "I still hate that dress," I said. Everyone laughed.

    "I think I'll take a walk about," I said, standing up. We had stopped at dusk, and I had just finished another bowl of potato stew. I grabbed my satchel, where the fireworks were held, and sighed.     "Would you like some company," Bilbo asked, setting down his bowl. I squinted at him as I shook my head.     "I'ld like some.... uh.....girl time, please," I said. One second, all eyes were on me, the next they all were clearing their throats, and avoiding my gaze. The male spices, I have found, is weird. I shrugged and walked into the forest. The second I was out of eyesight, I opened up my satchel and peered at the explosives I had hidden. There were a few little ones, and one that was about as big around as my forearm. That, I decided, would be the grand finale. I climbed the tree that was closest to me and jumped back, from tree to tree, to the camp. I perched right above Dwalin's sitting spot and got ready with my flint. I pulled out the smallest and inched out along the branch, so I was right above Dwalin now. Hugging the branch with my legs, I set the firework in the fork of the branch and struck my flint. The wick caught and zoomed out into the middle of the camp, going off with a loud whistle. I pulled out the next one as everyone ducked for cover.     "What in Durin's name was that," Dwalin bellowed. I set the firework in the fork again and struck the flint. It zoomed off again, sending a bright butterfly over the fire.     "Are those fireworks," Bilbo hollered from behind his log with Fili and Kili. I pulled out the next one and shoved it into the fork.     "Someone stole my fireworks," Gandalf shouted. I hesitated as I struck the flint. No wonder these were well hidden!     "NORI," Everyone shouted.     "I didn't steal nothin'," Nori shouted. He poked out from behind a tree. "Besides, how can I be down 'ere, when ther goin' off up ther'!" I struck the flint, and the firework caught, but it didn't zoom out, like it normally would. I lifted myself up and pushed the firework out of the tree. It exploded under me, a bright shower of blue, green and red sparkles, all over Dwalin's seat. I pulled out the last of the fireworks and set it in the smoldering fork of the tree. It teetered a little, so I had to set another branch on it. Ori crawled out from behind Bombur, who had a pot on his head.     "Is it over," He asked quietly.     "NOOOO!" I shouted, lowering my voice. I lit the last firework and scurried back to the tree trunk. It zoomed out, leaving a huge smoke plume in it's wake. The force of it knocked me back against the tree further. I didn't see how the firework exploded, but I saw what it was. A horse pranced out of the plume of showers and danced around before exploding in blue showers. I grabbed my satchel and jumped back to the tree I had climbed up. I climbed down and walked back into the camp, where everyone was emerging from their hiding places. Thorin sheathed his sword, and glared at me. I frowned at him as I cocked my head.     "What," I asked.     "You set those off," He growled.     "Set what off?" I walked over to Lakita, who was cowering with her paws over her eyes. I set my sack down next to her and rubbed her head.     "The fireworks," Dwalin growled. I turned around and frowned at him.     "No I didn't," I growled back.     "Then tell me, why are you covered in ash and soot," Gandalf asked. I looked myself over, and sure enough, I was covered in soot. I snorted, then laughed. I leaned on my knees, unable to stand I was laughing so hard. When I righted myself again, Thorin was frowning at me, his arms folded across his chest. He looked down right angry.     "Did you like the fireworks display," I asked.     "No, you scared us half to death," Dori shouted. Nori and Ori shared a look, then nodded their heads. Dori looked at them, completely shocked. Bombur, Bofur and Bifur were smiling, in fact, I believe everyone was smiling. Everyone but Dwalin, Dori, Thorin and Gandalf. Thorin and I had a little stare down, both of us had our arms across our chest, a defiant smirk across my face, an angry scowl across Thorin's. He shifted on his feet, then shook his head.     "That was spectacular," He said at last. I smiled, a great big toothy grin that I was sure looked completely white against my soot covered skin, not that they weren't white or anything. "But don't do that again!"     "I can't make any promises," I said, shrugging. Thorin looked at me, lowering his head slightly.     "No more fireworks until......I say so, yes," Thorin asked. I stuck my chin out.     "No more fireworks until I say so, yes." I plopped down next to Lakita, who had turned on her side and was peacefully snoozing. Thorin growled and ran a hand over his face. He stomped, yes stomped, back to his bed roll and sat down, bundling himself up in blankets.     "You get first watch then," He shouted over his shoulder.     "Dangitt." Fili and Kili walked over to me, and sat down, one on either side of me.     "Is this your plan, blowing things up," Kili asked. I shook my head and lowered my voice a little more.     "Blowing things up was just a phase," I said.     "What phase was it," Fili asked.     "Three I think," I said, counting fingers. Pancakes, tea, embarrassment, fireworks. "That was phase four, actually. Two more to go!"     "Two more what," Bilbo asked. I flashed him a toothy grin as he sat down.     "Two more attempts to get Thorin to smile," Kili said. Bilbo frowned and rubbed his chin.     "But he has smiled," Bilbo argued. Fili, Kili and I shook our heads.     "Not a real smile, not yet," Fili said, looking at Thorin. Kili looked up and smiled evilly at Bilbo, who inched away from him. "We need your help hobbit."     "Help with what,"  The hobbit asked. I smiled like a Warg.

    (Myrin's POV)

    I really hoped that this would work, it all depended on if the hobbit didn't chicken out. And if Thorin didn't find out. I yawned as I fell into step with Thorin. We were giving the ponies another day without riders, thankfully that didn't interfere with my plan. Thorin glanced sideways at me.     "Someone's a little tired," He said. I shrugged. "Did you go scouting early this morning or something?" I nodded with another yawn. Bilbo walked along behind me, just where he was meant to be. Kili and Fili were walked next to him, just in case something went wrong. I smiled and looked sideways at Thorin.     "You okay," He asked. I nodded, still smiling. Thorin wasn't convinced. "Maybe I should rephrase that, what are you up to?" Thorin turned his Head to look directly at me, trying to glare but with me being a half inch shorter then him, it didn't really work. I smiled brighter and yawned again.     "I'm not up to anything," I lied. I looked at the surroundings, looking for a particular one.     "Did you loose something," He asked, taking a look around. I yawned again.     "Nope." I sighed and drew my cloak around my shoulders tighter. I really wasn't going to like this, but it would be worth it. I finally spied the landmark a few minuets later. It looked like a tree, but it was made of stone. I grabbed Thorin's shoulder, leaned in close, until my head was right next to his head and pointed at the stone tree.     "Isn't that weird," I asked. Thorin looked sideways at me again, rolled his eyes and gently shoved me away.     "Yes, are you sure you're not up to anything?" I shrugged, still holding onto Thorin's shoulder, and tapped the toe of my boot behind me twice. Bilbo grumbled under his breath and gave a little shriek. He fell next to me, just barely touching my feet, but just enough to make my tripping seem real. I tightened my grip on Thorin's shoulder and fell, the great warrior landing next to me with an "Umph!" As I had fallen, I threw all my strength into my shoulder that would touch the ground first, and I felt the ground give a little. Before I could even release the breath I had taken, the ground fell out from under me, literally, and I fell into the mud pit I had found whilst flying late last afternoon. I hit the wet, cold, slimy mud, back first and plunged deep into it, deeper then I thought it was. I reached the bottom after what I thought was two minuets. I stood up and burst through the surface, but I didn't take a deep breath. I wiped the mud from my eyes and nose, then took a deep breath as I opened my eyes. The first thing that I saw was the dip in the side of the hill that I had hollowed out early this morning, my reason for yawning so much. Ten feet above, the entire company was gathered at the edge of the hill, including Thorin. The Great King was red faced, barely able to keep from laughing. Fili, and Kili were chuckling nervously, and Bilbo was crouched down on the edge, staring right at me. I frowned, stuck my chin out and folded my arms.     "Dangitt," I yelled. That did it for Thorin. He buckled over, his deep laughter filling the surrounding valley. The ground he was standing on fell out, and he fell in, not before grabbing Kili's leg, Kili grabbing Fili, who kicked Bilbo into the mud. They all landed with a loud pop like sound, and I took the moment to buckle over laughing. Bilbo stood up first, taking a deep breath, only to cough and sputter as he spat mud out of his mouth.     "I thought you said this would work," Kili yelled behind Bilbo. He wiped his hand across his mouth and eyes as Fili and Thorin resurfaced. Everyone was covered in tawny brown mud, swirled with white, deeper browns and the occasional leaf that strayed by in the breeze. Thorin wiped his mouth and eyes, then looked at me.     "It did work Kili," I yelled back.     "Myrin, think fast," Thorin bellowed. I turned just in time to get a mud ball to the face. I heard everyone take a collective gasp as I wiped the mud from my eyes again. I glared at Thorin, who was beaming like an idiot, trying to look Innocent. It didn't really help that everyone was staring at him. I bent down, picked up a handful of mud in each hand and threw it back at Thorin, who promptly ducked. The mud ball hit Kili, who landed back first in the mud again. I glanced up at the new cliff, and found everyone to be laughing their hearts out, even Gandalf and Dwalin. I ducked as Thorin threw another mud-ball at me, then launched one back at him. Square in the chest, and the force of it made him stagger. Something hit me in the back, forcing me to the ground. I looked behind me with a shake of my head. To my surprise, the hobbit had thrown the mud ball at me. I felt my mouth go agape as he leaned down to get another.     "That's for getting me into this mess," He yelled, trying to sound mean but the humor in his face betrayed him. He threw the next one, hitting the back of my head. "That's for getting mud in my lasts pair of dry clothes!"     "This is for getting mud in my HAIR," I yelled back. I picked up another mud ball, this one having a dirt clot in it, and threw it at the hobbit, laughing like a maniac as I did so. Bilbo rolled out of the way, just as Fili walked into the line of fire. It hit him in the ear, probably sending mud clear into his brain. I cringed as he teetered sideways, then looked at me. I planted my face in the mud, knowing fully well who was behind me, and that I was thankfully covered in mud, so he couldn't see me very well. Then again, this was Fili we're talking about. I left my ears above the surface so I could hear was was going on.     "You shall pay for that Kili," Fili shouted. Oops, I thought it was Thorin behind me. I heard the mud ball wiz over me, so I sat up and rolled away from the mud covered princes. Thorin and Bilbo were having a mud slaughter, and they didn't even invite me! I picked up a mud ball and quietly tip toed over to Thorin, who had his back to me. I lifted up his collar and dumped the mud down the back of his shirt. I saw him stiffen, Bilbo's hand flew to his mouth, and the spots of skin I could see on his face turned a lovely shade of red. Thorin turned around and glared at me.     "I'm gonna skin you Myrin," Thorin bellowed, squeezing the mud out of his back. That had to be the most funny thing I had seen in my life. Thorin Oakenshield, supposedly the fearless king under the mountain, with mud stuck in his beard, hair, and everywhere else, saying he was going to skin me while he was squeezing mud from his clothing. My hand covered my mouth, I pointed at my long time friend, and laughed harder then I had in what seemed like forever.     "How can you skin me when you can't even reached the middle of your back," I coughed, once I could speak through my laughter. Thorin glared at me as he stood up.     "I can too, how would you like mud in your boots," He growled. As he stood there, glaring at me, most likely thinking how he would skin me, I blinked at Bilbo, who was sneaking up behind Thorin, getting ready to shove him into the mud. He nodded and jumped forwards, shoving Thorin into the mud with all his small might. With a surprised yelp, Thorin fell face first into the mud. Everyone's laughter could be heard beyond Bree, I suspected. Something grabbed my foot and pulled me into the mud. Guess who? Thorin! We had the great mud wars for a while longer, until the sun was about a hand's width away from the horizon, around seven o'clock I should think. That's when Dwalin and Balin came and got us, both snickering at me.     "I remember a little lass that wouldn't get out of any type of dirt," Balin recalled, rubbing his fork at the end of his beard. "What happened to her?" I laughed and stepped out of the pit.     "She learned that some dwarrow wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," I shouted, nearly slapping Balin on the back. I remembered just in time that I had mud on me. I remembered that there was a lake nearby, so I started walking. Everyone walked towards the lake as well, whether it was them following me or walking to the camp, I couldn't tell. As I found out a few minuets later, the company had camped a few meters away from the edge of the lake. I jumped right into the lake, not bothering to take off my boots or anything. I would of had to wash them anyways before I could of worn them again. Those who were in the mud pit with me did likewise, so the mud war became a water war. Once every speck of mud was gone from hair, clothes, boots and beards, we returned to land, and were forced to sit right next to the fire.     "You will not get sick again Thorin," Oin growled. He turned to Kili and I, wagging a finger at us. "And you two were bad enough when you were younger, I don't want to deal with you now when you're stronger!" Bilbo gave us a quizzical look, but I waved him off. The night was hot, just like it should be for almost being June. Wait a second........ I pulled Kili close and leaned in close to his ear.     "What day is it," I growled. His eyebrow raised as he leaned away from me.     "May 31st, why," He asked. Realization came to his eyes, and his mouth morphed into a silent 'oh'. We gave Thorin a glance, then frowned at each other. Bilbo noticed this and inched closer to Kili.     "Do I want to know," He asked. I ringed my hair out a little more, letting the water sizzle on the rocks surrounding the fire.     "We've got a problem Myrin," Fili said, sitting next to Bilbo, completing the little circle. I nodded and glanced over at Thorin again, who was looking at our little circle, a bemused look on his face.     "I know, I'll think of something- Can I help you Mr Mud-King," I asked as Thorin walked over from the other side of the fire.     "Last time you four got together I ended up with mud down my shirt," He said as he sat down.     "This one's for our benefit, thank you very much," I said, nodding slightly. Thorin snorted.     "Your benefit, hum? Does it involve sticking herbs in my things, drenching my cloak in pepper, or attempting to get me into a sticky situation?" We all frowned at him, then shook our heads. Thorin frowned, then he must have decided that we were telling the truth, not that we weren't, because he returned to his spot on the other side of the fire. I leaned in closer to Kili.     "Any ideas," I asked, because I had just ran out. Kili stroked his stubble, staring at Thorin, who was staring back. I noticed all the company was staring at our little circle, all wearing bemused looks.     "We could give him a day of peace," Fili said quietly, so quietly that I could barely hear it over the sound of the fire. "Tell him we have everything taken care of for him-"     "Who are you talking about," Bilbo asked. I threw my thumb in Thorin's general direction, and Bilbo glanced at him.     "That could work," I said, equally as quiet. "Let him sleep, but he never sleeps past dawn... I could give him a sleeping drought..."     "Are you nuts," Kili asked. "The second he finds out, he'll get grumpy again." I growled.     "Okay, then we four need to take the watch tonight."     "Make that three, I need my sleep," Bilbo said. With that, he rolled out his bed roll and curled down in the blankets. I bounced my Head back and forth, weighing options.     "I'll take first watch," Kili shouted. Everyone looked up, and got suspicious.     "Why do you want to take first watch," Dwalin asked.     " 'Cause I don't want to get my bed roll wet," Kili said, lifting up his hair, which was nearly dry, but Dwalin couldn't tell. I sighed and got out my own bed roll.     "Make sure that you wake one of us up," I told Kili, pointing to Fili and myself. I sat down, burrowed underneath, and fell asleep instantly.

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Tattooed Love

Summary: Soulmate AU. You have a small tattoo of your soulmates first initial and while you know him as soon as you see him it takes time to tell him how you feel.

A/N: this is for @thatfanficstuff 500 follower challenge. I also want to thank @mirandaaustin93 for being my beta. She isn't even into The Hobbit, but she watched it just for me and read over this. I can't thank her enough.

If you like this post and can Buy Me a Coffee

Warnings: none. I actually even made sure the boys lived because I can't handle their deaths.

Word count: 2203

Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. Those were the things Thorin looked for in a person, the things he respected. It was also something you had to offer. You were at the meeting in Ered Luin. You heard about his quest to reclaim Erebor and while Dain and the others told him it was the company's quest and theirs alone you refused to sit back and do nothing. The desire to help, to prove yourself, and to do the right thing burned deep in your soul and coursed through your veins hotter than a forge’s fire. That was how you found yourself riding with Thorin to the Shire to meet the rest of the company and meet the burglar Gandalf had chosen to assist on the quest.

But truth be told those weren't the only reasons you had for joining such a dangerous quest. Even though they were the main ones. In the back of your mind and somewhere in your heart you hoped to meet your soulmate as well. Ever since you were old enough to understand what the little D rune tattooed on your ankle meant you had been looking for him. Everyone was born with a similar mark. For dwarves or in your case half dwarves the letter was a rune, but it was always the first letter of your soulmates name. It always looked like a tattoo, but the markings weren't always located in the same spot.

As soon as you met the stoic warrior with tattoos on his head and forearms you knew it had to be him. Just his rough voice sent a tingle down your spine and while most found his gaze and the way he held himself intimidating you didn't. It made you feel protected and if you were being honest a little bit aroused. However you kept this to yourself. For one you had just met him and wanted to get to know him before you blurted out you thought he was your soulmate. For two you were about to embark on a dangerous mission and more important things needed to be discussed.

You sat listening intently to Thorin as he spoke of the mountain and seizing the chance to take back Erebor with a smile. You were proud to call him king, but then talk of the front door being sealed began and arguments once again broke out because no one thought Bilbo could survive the wild. It made you sigh. Dwalin looked over at you with a raised brow. “What seems to be the matter lass?” You shook your head. “Pointless arguing. Gandalf clearly chose the hobbit for a reason. So what if he's gentle and doesn't know how to defend himself. There's thirteen and a half dwarves here we can defend him if need be until we reach the mountain.”

Dwalin let out a gruff laugh. “Thirteen and a half. You're funny lass.” After that moment you wanted to hear him laugh more and so you made it your personal mission to make him do so. Even if you weren't sure how to do it. That night everyone of the dwarves sang and you joined in, but your eyes were locked on Dwalin the entire time. His deep voice, the glint in his eyes that said he was a fierce warrior, and the way he held himself all drew you in. Like a moth to the flame or a dwarf to gold. There was no doubt in your mind he was your soulmate.

As you left the Shire and traveled over rolling hills and across little rivers you talked to all the company getting to know them better. You made friends with Fili and Kili easy enough. They were sweet and could easily make you laugh. You also talked to Balin enjoying the stories he told you, but your favorite talks were with Dwalin. You could listen to his voice all day. He told you stories of battles he had fought in, mischief he had caused as a dwarfling, becoming best friends with Thorin and many more. In return you told him stories of your childhood, how you learned to fight because you wanted to honor your father who had died in battle, how people put you down for being a halfbreed, and anything else you could think of.

The more you talked to him the more you fell in love. Dwalin was everything you could hope for in a soulmate. He was brave, strong, protective, loyal. Most importantly he had a soft side that not many got to see, but you did. One night while most of the company slept you and him sat up talking long into the night. “There was this little fawn it had gotten separated from its ma, ya see. Well it was so tiny it was gonna die on its own. So I smuggled it into the house, fed it milk until it was big enough to survive in the wild and let it go.” He told you. It was the sweetest thing you had ever heard. This big tough dwarf who could easily crack skulls with his bare hands had taken care of something as gentle and precious as a lost fawn.

Getting to see that side of him made you realize there was more to him than meets the eye. And so you spent every night you could listening to his tales whether they be of gruesome fights or of helping someone in need by escorting them home safely, stories of boys’ night and getting plastered or of buying a single mother food for a week. Yes, Dwalin was a tough seasoned warrior, but he was also a soft kind soul once you got to know him. It warmed your heart that he allowed you to see the deeper part of him. You even had to stop yourself from telling him you loved him a few times.

Things seemed to be going great between you and Dwalin as well as for the company until one night you made camp near what used to be a farmer's  home. Gandalf and Thorin argued and the wizard took off. That was just the beginning of the trouble that would ensue that night. Just as you were about to take the last bite of the stew Bombur had made Fili came running toward camp saying trolls had Bilbo. You dropped the bowl grabbed your sword and followed after him like all the other dwarves. The battle was going in your favor until one of the trolls caught you and threw you into a tree. You landed on your leg funny and felt your ankle roll painfully. There was no doubt it was sprained.

Bilbo was captured and the dwarves dropped their weapons. Some were put on a spit over the fire while the rest of you were put in sacks. You closed your eyes and held back the whimper that was in the back of your throat. If you were going to die you would do it bravely. You wouldn't let the others know you were hurting as bad as you were. You were a warrior and you would die being strong like a warrior. You watched the spit looking at Dwalin sadly wishing you had told him how you felt. Now you would never get the chance to tell him, he was your soulmate and you loved him. Or so you thought.

The hobbit had managed to play for time. While his plan was a bit strange it had worked and Gandalf had showed up in time to turn the trolls to stone. All of you were released from your bags and off the spit. While some of the company went to look for a cave you sat there letting your ankle rest. You poked it and let out a hiss. “Let me have a look at it lass. You took a pretty hard hit.” You looked up at Dwalin and nodded not even thinking about the little soulmate tattoo he would find. You just wanted to make sure it wasn't broke as you didn't want to be a burden the rest of the journey.

Dwalin knelt next to you and pulled the leg of your trousers up, untied your boot and pulled it off. He lifted your leg and went to examine it. When he spotted the little D rune he took pause. The stoic warrior had felt himself falling for you more and more as you grew to know one another. He also remembered the rune on his right shoulder that was the first letter of your name. Deep inside he had prayed that you were his soulmate, but you were so soft, so gentle, so sweet, and perfect. He was none of that. He didn't want to get his hopes up in case he was wrong, but now he had a reason to have hope. For the first time in a long time he felt his heartbeat pick up and was honestly a little nervous.

“Y/N, lass.” He looked up at you his eyes more serious than you had ever seen. You could see the different emotions playing in his eyes. Nervousness, happiness, pride, love, and a little fear. All of it made you very nervous, but you didn't take your eyes off his for a second. “I think it's time I showed you something.” He shrugged his fur coat off and moved his tunic showing you his mark. There it was for you to see. A little rune depicting the first letter of your name. Honestly you didn't know how to react. This whole time you had been afraid to tell him how you felt when you had nothing to fear.

You smiled at him, the pain in your ankle completely forgotten and pulled him down for a kiss. His lips were chapped and rough just like he was, but having them pressed to yours was the sweetest feeling in the world. Tingles ran down your spine, your heart picked up pace and you felt like nothing bad could happen as long as he kept holding you like he was. Dwalin’s hands had come to rest of your hips and despite his tough exterior he held you gently, like a butterfly he was afraid to crush. When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you, Dwalin,” you whispered knowing he would hear you.

“I love you too, Y/N. And I swear to protect you to the end of my days.” He promised. And no matter the hardships you endured on the quest he kept that promise. He made sure the orcs didn't get you as you ran, he protected you during the thunderbattle, in the goblin tunnels he hit any one of the nasty creatures that dared touch you, hanging from a tree he protected you then too. A skinchanger, spiders, elves, and a dragon. He watched over you through it all. He even kept you safe during the battle of the five armies. There was nothing he wouldn't keep you safe from. You thanked Mahal for giving you such a perfect soulmate. Without Dwalin you just knew you would be lost.

When the day finally came for your wedding you couldn't be happier. The smile on your face was more stunning than even the Arkenstone. What made the day better was the fact your best friends, Fili and Kili were walking you down the aisle while Thorin was officiating. It had been a miracle they had survived the battle, but they had and here they were to experience the happiest day of your life with you. You fussed with your hair one last time before opening the door and smiling at the boys. “Time to get you married,” Fili said. Kili had a cheeky grin. “I know you're excited for what comes after.” The young prince wiggled his brows. You smacked him, but accepted his and his brother's arm as they were offered.

Dwalin blinked rapidly. He couldn't believe how beautiful you were. The stoic warrior felt he was looking at an angel as he watched Fili and Kili bring you closer to him. As soon as you were standing across from him he held your hands in his and smiled. For anyone that didn't know how he was with you it was a strange sight, but for the company they expected nothing less. You stood there barely hearing a thing Thorin said as you gazed at your soulmate with all the love and adoration your small body could muster. If someone asked you what was said during the ceremony you wouldn't be able to tell them.

The only thing you remembered was promising to always love Dwalin and him promising you the same. Of course Kili then yelled from the crowd, “Kiss already.” Dwalin let out a growl, but did just that. Normally he wasn't one for public displays of affection, but today he made an exception as he kissed you with everything he had. “Your mine and I'm yours for now and until the end of our days,” he whispered. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” you whispered back.

[littlemessyjessi]

Dwarven Desire: Chapter One: Dragon Queen

Many, many years ago a little dwarfling with hair as dark as the dark obsidian and eyes like bright sapphires sat in his mother's lap.

Those blue eyes were wide and full of wonder as he stared at Princess Dara.

“Mummy, would you tell me a story?” the dwarfling asked.

Dara had smiled and ticked the edges of his face where his sideburns were.

He was so young that his prized Dwarven beard had not yet begun to grow.

The little dwarfling giggled and Princess Dara smiled at her son, “Who does mummy love , Thorin?” she asked him.

“Me!” the little dwarfling cheered.

Princess Dara laughed and gathered the little dwarfling in her arms for a hug, “Alright, Thorin. Go and get us a book.”

Little Thorin raced away to the other side of the room to fetch a book for his mother to read him when his father came in.

Prince Thrain loved his son but he had never been very accustomed to children.

Thorin turned his big blue eyes on his father, “Da!”

Thrain patted Thorin’s head but said nothing else and went about his business.

Thorin, who was quite used to this turned to the bookshelf, to retrieve a book.

“Mummy, can we read about dragons?” the dwarfling asked.

“If you wish.” Princess Dara replied but Thrain snorted.

“Dragons.” he scoffed. “Why would you want to read to him about those slithering serpents? Disgusting, awful, selfish creatures…”

Princess Dara watched with a frown as Thrain left the room to go about his business.

Little Thorin looked to his mother expectantly as she rose from her chair and crossed the room to him.

“Not all dragons are bad, Thorin.” she said and he watched her slender fingers pulled a new book from the shelf.

“They’re not?” he asked following her back to the chair before immediately climbing into her lap.

“No.” she said flipping through the pages of the book until she found the story she wanted.

Little Thorin gasped and his tiny hands splayed out across the book in surprise.

“A girl dragon!” he said. “Mummy! A girl dragon!”

“Yes, Thorin. Isn’t she pretty?” Princess Dara asked.

“Very, very pretty, mommy.” he said examining this dragon.

She was beautiful with all different colors and sparkling gold eyes.

“Would you like to hear about her?” Princess Dara asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, mummy. Please. I would.” Thorin said trying his very best to be polite and still.

“There once was a dragon.” Princess Dara began, “Fierce and beautiful, she was.

She lived deep in the jungles of the elves from the far, far east.

She was worshipped as their fire goddess who warmed them at night and protected them instead of using her fire to burn them like other dragons did.

The great Jezguli, fire drake of the east.

Her beauty was unrivaled.

Her scales glittered upon her great body in thousands of different colors….like gems and jewels winking in the light.

Her eyes were great amber orbs brighter and more beautiful than all the gold in the world.

The people loved her.

They adored her and forged great pieces of jewelry for her to wear as a symbol of their respect.

News spread of the generous and kind fire drake.

Most believed it to be myth.

But then something great and terrible came.

Smaug.

A terribly awful red dragon.

Possessive and evil he was.

He flew into the jungles and to the top of a mountain before he opened his terrible jaws and let loose a horrible fire.

The mountain ignited and angry red flowing fire oozed from it engulfing the village.

Jezguli was heartbroken and furious.

How dare he hurt her people!

She attacked the red dragon who laughed.

“They are only elves.” he had said. “Why do you care? They do not deserve your beauty. I know how to treat treasure. Let them burn.”

But Jezguli was not like Smaug and she wept for her people.

She fought Smaug until he fled.

As she heard her people’s screams she could not bare it anymore.

So she flew into the mountain and sacrificed herself to stop the burning.

A great and powerful flash was seen in the sky and the eruption stopped.

The mountain hardened again but the deep red still flowed beneath the ground heating it and the water so that her children would still be warm at night.

Homage was paid to her once every month for many years.

Soon it became tradition.

Tradition became legend.

Legend became myth.

But she was never forgotten.

The people say that sometimes they see a lone dark elf deep within the jungles riding a mighty black cat as large as a horse.

With bow on her back, whip by her side and dagger in her hand she guards the people.

Some say it is Jezguli reincarnated to seek her revenge on Smaug.

Some say she is just a bedtime story.

What do you believe, Thorin?”

Thorin’s blue eyes were as wide as plates as he looked at the rainbow dragon in the book and then at the dark elf riding a large black cat.

“I think she still lives.” Thorin said. “Right, mommy?”

Princess Dara smiled at her son, “I don’t know, Thorin, but someday you’ll be big and strong and I’m sure very adventurous. You might meet her one day.”

“Yes, mommy.” he said looking back to pages. “Could I have this book? I want to put it by my bed. Jezguli is very pretty. I want to look at her.”

Princess Dara smiled and picked up Thorin and carried him to his room.

She opened the book back up to the correct pages and placed it on the table beside Thorin’s bed.

The dwarfling ran his little fingers over the pages.

“Mommy?”

Princess Dara looked down at her son.

“I like treasure too.” he said. “Do you think Jezguli would marry me one day?”

Princess Dara’s eyebrows shot up.

She had not expected that.

“Perhaps she might, Thorin.” she said. “If your heart is true enough.”

Little Thorin gave a determined nod that made his mother smirk just a little bit.

“I could braid her hair and put beads in it. We could ride her kitty cat through the jungle and shoot arrows together, mommy. Don’t you think she would be a pretty princess?” Thorin asked tiredly nodding.

Princess Dara smiled and almost laughed a little a her son’s obvious crush.

“That sounds nice, Thorin. Perhaps one day you’ll bring her to Erebor and she’ll be your Queen.” Princess Dara said.

“Yeah.” sighed a sleepy little Thorin. “I’ll be King Thorin and she’ll be Queen Jezguli. Dragon Queen.”

Thorin’s blue eyes closed and his breathing deepened and when Princess Dara knew he was asleep she let herself out of his room with a chuckle.

Thorin had the wildest ideas sometimes but she treasured those moments for he was still young and pure.

He had not learned the ways of the world to taint his heart.

He still believed in everyone and she hoped that at least part of that would always stay with him.

Next Chapter!

Hey, smooochies! I hope you enjoy the revamp of one of my favorite old stories!! I'm so excited to bring Jezguli onto Tumblr since she is so close to my heart!  Be on the lookout for more because I'm redoing several chapters with big plans for the future ones! Eeek! I'm so excited!  If you liked this please tell me in the comments! Happy Reading!!

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Silver Secret pt3

@life-is-righteous @filisleftmustachebraid @littlemergirl4779 @aidanturnersass @childoftheshire

so, part 3 of Silver Secret! (part 2)

The Dragon was gone. Staring across the landscape from the broken ramparts, you watched him fly towards Laketown. In your mind, only one thought kept repeating: Fíli is down there!

You didn’t even realise how tightly you were gripping your axe until Dwalin’s large fist wrapped around yours, squeezing lightly.

“Come away, lass,” he asked, “there’s nothing we can do from here.” Fíli is down there!

“We can watch, adad,” you whispered back, hearing him sigh and relaxing into the arm he wrapped around your shoulders. “We can only watch…” Fíli is down there!

“Aye, Mjoll, we will watch.” Dwalin was hoarse, his voice thick with unshed tears and you knew he was thinking the same thing you were, wondering if your loved ones were burning in dragon-fire at that very moment as you watched Smaug deliver another stream of flames across the wooden structures. You didn’t look to see, feeling Ori’s hand take yours when you lost the grip on your weapon, you simply stared at the inferno enveloping the town. Fíli’s down there!

“Fíli…” you weren’t even aware you’d spoken his name, but Dwalin’s arm tightened around you.

“I know, lass, I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. You both ignored the tears that were trailing down your cheeks. Fíli is down there!

 You didn’t realise you’d lost yourself watching the orange flickers until the sound hit you; a deep sound, with no clear origin except the burning Lake. Everyone jumped, straining their eyes.

“What was that?” Balin exclaimed.

“It fell. I saw it.” Bilbo sounded stunned, and for a moment you shook your head in disbelief, searching for a glimpse of the massive shadow among the brightness of the flames. “It’s dead. Smaug is dead!” Bilbo cried out, but your heart felt no lighter. Fíli was still down there – Kíli, too, of course, and Óin and, oh, Maker, poor jovial Bofur with his stupid hat. Turning around, you buried your face in Dwalin’s shoulder sobbing in silence while around you, voices rose in joy.

“By my beard!” Glóin swore, “I think he’s right! Look! There! The ravens of Erebor are returning to the mountain!” You brushed past them, heading back inside where you just caught sight of Thorin’s back as he turned a corner.

 You pawed listlessly at the treasure, coins slipping beneath your weight. Your tears had dried, but you were left with a hollow sensation sucking at your chest that you feared would never dissipate. They all had to be dead; there was no way they could have survived, you were sure of it, not even daring to hope. Fíli’s face kept replaying in your mind, blocking out the sight of the gold; staring at Thorin in a rare act of defiance as you’d last seen him, looking at you on the night he’d tried to steal your necklace, even a few brief memories of the way he had looked on the day he gave it to you, all bright smiles and happiness. You still missed the familiar weight nestled between your breasts, eschewing the pleasure of decking yourself out in gold and jewels like the rest of them had been so keen to do in the first few days since the destruction of Laketown.

Thorin looked like a proper King, now, the Raven Crown on his brow and heavy furs on his shoulders, but you wondered if he was feeling the same chill that seemed to linger in your flesh, the chill of death. Did he feel responsible for the deaths of Fíli and Kíli, of Bofur and Óin? He had barely spoken to any of you, and you could see the strain of worry in Balin’s eyes, the tightness in Dwalin’s shoulders.

Keeping your head down and your eyes fixed on the treasure was the only way to avoid a tongue-lashing, you found. Thorin wanted the Arkenstone found – understandable – but you could barely focus on whether the object in your hand was a goblet or a coin, let alone find it in yourself to care about the bloody Arkenstone. There were no heirs left to pass it to, anyway, what did it matter if it took years to find the thing?

 At night, you would curl up in your bedroll, lie next to Dwalin and you knew you were both awake, though neither of you spoke. Dwalin was worried about Thorin, you knew, worried about your King who wasn’t sleeping at all – at least, he had stopped coming to bed with the rest of you – and your head was nothing but a wasteland of grief. You heard yourself call him scum, heard yourself shout accusations at him, which – while valid – now seemed to insignificant compared to never seeing him again, never watching the way his lips curled into a dimpled smile. The lie you had told yourself for five years was now utterly exposed for what it was: a screen of smoke to hide behind.

Today, Thorin was mumbling to himself, crooning something you didn’t pay attention to as you stared at the glitter before you. It paled in comparison with lazy spring afternoons in Ered Luin, watching sunlight glimmer in Fíli’s hair, sparring with the lads and having fun. You wondered how you would ever be able to face Dís again, worried that this loss would finally break her.

“Gold - Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief.” Was it, you wondered, or did he simply need to tell himself that, to live with the guilt of knowing he had caused the death of those whom he most sought to protect. You didn’t look up, didn’t want to see that strange light in his eyes. “Behold - the great treasure hoard of Thrór.” You’d been doing little else, lately, though you hadn’t minded, feeling no desire to explore things without Kíli scampering along, without Fíli there to worry about your safety and rein in his rambunctiousness. “Welcome, my sister’s sons,” Thorin paused, but as the words registered you straightened, suddenly filled with desperate hope, “to the kingdom of EREBOR.”

You stared. They were all… here. Travel-worn and stained, but they were here, you realized, a small giggle bubbling up as you traced the shape of Bofur’s hat, caught sight of Óin’s hearing horn, of Kíli’s curls, saw the way Fíli’s carefully braided moustache looked even more golden than usual.

“Mahal…” you croaked; the first words you’d spoken in days. You didn’t actively decide to run, simply found yourself sliding and slipping on the gold piles as you moved towards the stairs, blind and deaf to the joyous cries behind you. Fíli looked apprehensive – with good reason, you thought, anger burning hot and heavy in your breast. The punch was masterful, taking him by complete surprise as you socked him in the jaw.

“Mjoll?!” he cried out, when you gripped the front of his clothes, hauling him back up.

“That’s for sneaking into my dress when I slept, you utter moron!” you shrieked, before pulling him close. You vaguely noted that Kíli and Bofur were backing away, while Fíli was holding up his hands as if to push you back. The kiss was sweeter than breathing, though Fíli was equally surprised as you slanted your lips across his, even if he rallied to return the pressure, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. “That’s for not being dead,” you breathed against his mouth, “you utter moron.” Pushing him away again, you turned on your heel, walking off at a fast clip and ignoring Fíli’s confused calls of your name.

Collapsing into your bedroll, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

“Mjoll?!” Fíli asked, staring up at the enraged dwarrowdam who’d just managed to knock him off his feet. Rubbing his sore jaw, he gasped when she used her grip on his clothes to haul him back to a standing position. Mjoll was breathing hard, fury clear in her eyes.

“That’s for sneaking into my dress when I slept, you utter moron!” she shrieked, hurting his ears. Kíli was backing away slowly, holding up his hands as though to ward her off, and Fíli wanted to grip her shoulders, still her rage somehow – he had probably earned more than a sore jaw after all – but all thoughts seemed to flee his mind; every ounce of focus glued to the feel of her lips against his. It had been five years, but he remembered the feel of her, eagerly kissing her back, his confusion banished for the moment as he lost himself in her sweetness. Her lips were slightly chapped, and it was maybe a little rough and unrefined, but it was still the best kiss he’d ever had. “That’s for not being dead,” she breathed against his mouth, “you utter moron.” When she tore herself away from him, Fíli realised that he had been holding her, feeling her soft beard under his fingertips.

“Mjoll!” he cried out after her, but Dwalin’s strong arm stopped him before he could follow.

“Let her be, for now, lad,” he rumbled, and then Fíli found himself wrapped in those strong arms – for a moment he remembered being a Dwarfling again – as the rest of the Company surged around them, crying out in welcome.

  “She really does pack a punch, my lassie,” Dwalin murmured later, looking at Fíli’s nicely bruised jaw. Kíli chuckled. The prince scowled. “None o’ that now, lad, we both know you deserved it for being a wee pillock.” Dwalin admonished, busying himself with filling a towel with smooth round river-stones the size of Fíli’s thumbnail. Fíli’s glare shifted to Kíli, who held up his hands in protest.

“I didn’t tell him anything!”

“Didn’t have to, did he?” Dwalin chided. “I’ve eyes in my head, lad, and you’ve always watched her; even when you pretended not to these past five years – which I’m still yet to hear an explanation for, by the way.”

“Basically,” Kíli began, agilely dodging Fíli’s swipe. Dwalin pressed him back into his chair, the towel filled with stones chilled in the River Running making Fíli hiss when the warrior pressed it against his jaw. “Fíli was an idiot and did seek out all the facts before stabbing himself in the foot.” Kíli returned Fíli’s glare with a smirk. Dwalin frowned.

“Elaborate,” he gestured. Fíli sighed.

“Kíli’s not wrong,” he admitted, “I overheard Mjoll saying goodbye to Jofur; only I didn’t know it was her brother she was claiming to love… I just thought she’d fallen in love with someone else while I was gone.”

“Much as it pains me, Kíli’s got the right of it, Fíli,” Dwalin sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “You are a wee eejit.”

“I don’t know how to fix it!” Fíli cried. “She won’t talk to me, not after Laketown. She wouldn’t even look at me when I tried to apologise for that.”

“Aye, well,” Dwalin hummed, giving Fíli a stern look. “That was before you returned from the dead, no?” Fíli winced. “We all grieved for you, lads,” Dwalin admitted, wrapping his free arm around Kíli in a tight hug, “but Mjoll… if you ever hurt her like this again, I will personally kick you all the way to the Halls of Waiting, we clear?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fíli swore, throwing a subdued glance at Dwalin.

“Good. Then I give my formal permission for you to court my daughter, Mjoll, Fíli, son of Víli.” Dwalin left the room. Fíli stared after his broad back.

“Well, he’s less angry, at least,” Kíli teased. “Now you just have to woo back your ladylove.”

Fíli threw a pillow at him. Kíli fled, shrieking with laughter, but Fíli found a small smile stretching his lips. He fell asleep thinking about the kiss she’d given him.

He would speak to her in the morning; force her to hear him if he had to.

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

Heart of Gold

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2x3MrK0

by legolassbadass

The coming of a dragon is like a great roar of thunder, and a tempest of fire and their wings are like steel. Long ago, it came, killing and stealing, driving the Dwarves far away with nought but the clothes on their backs. Great halls and riches for the Dwarves no more, only misery and treachery. Far to the east, they went. Thorin, the heir to the lost throne of Erebor, lost everything when the dragon came. Everything except the one thing he will find out he cannot live without. His One. A great love develops between them — a love to surpass war and hunger and grief. But a love which is forbidden.

Words: 2510, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Thorin's Company, Dwalin (Tolkien), Dís (Tolkien), Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Frerin (Tolkien), Thrain (Tolkien), Thrór (Tolkien), Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Balin (Tolkien), Ori (Tolkien), Dori (Tolkien), Nori (Tolkien), Óin (Tolkien), Gloin (Thorin), Bifur (Tolkien), Bofur (Tolkien), Bombur (Tolkien), Dain (Thorin), Thranduil (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Smaug (Tolkien), Original Dwarf Character(s), Original Female Dwarf Character(s)

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/You, Thorin Oakenshield & Original Female Character(s), Thorin Oakenshield & Reader, Thorin Oakenshield & Thorin's Company, Dís & Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Thorin Oakenshield, Dís/Dís's Husband, Dís & Frerin & Thorin Oakenshield, Dís (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Major Original Character(s), Sadness, like real sad sometimes, but also real happy and fluffly, Sad and Happy, Slow Burn, like really slow burn, but also they've always loved each other (ish), they're just dumb, Protective Thorin, Stubborn Thorin, Awkward Thorin, Thorin Is an Idiot, but he's such a sweet idiot, Falling In Love, Soulmates, Intimacy, both sexual and non-sexual, Tenderness, Sex, Lots of Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Innuendo, First Time, Loss of Virginity, betrothal, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Class Differences, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Courting, Thorin is the Most Devoted Lover, Did I mention there's sex?, And Lots of Fluff?, Bathing/Washing, Overprotective Thorin, Uncle Thorin, Thorin Would Be the Best Dad, Little Dwarflings, Young Fíli and Kíli, Dis is a badass, All Female Dwarves are Badass, Male-Female Friendship, Female Friendship, Family Fluff, Thorin is a Softie, Durin Family Feels, Baby Durins, Thorin Feels, so many feels, Shameless Thorin Worship, Did I Mention I Love Thorin?, Probably More Than It Is Healthy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2x3MrK0

[ao3feed-dworin]

Heart of Gold

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2x3MrK0

by legolassbadass

The coming of a dragon is like a great roar of thunder, and a tempest of fire and their wings are like steel. Long ago, it came, killing and stealing, driving the Dwarves far away with nought but the clothes on their backs. Great halls and riches for the Dwarves no more, only misery and treachery. Far to the east, they went. Thorin, the heir to the lost throne of Erebor, lost everything when the dragon came. Everything except the one thing he will find out he cannot live without. His One. A great love develops between them — a love to surpass war and hunger and grief. But a love which is forbidden.

Words: 2510, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Thorin's Company, Dwalin (Tolkien), Dís (Tolkien), Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Frerin (Tolkien), Thrain (Tolkien), Thrór (Tolkien), Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Balin (Tolkien), Ori (Tolkien), Dori (Tolkien), Nori (Tolkien), Óin (Tolkien), Gloin (Thorin), Bifur (Tolkien), Bofur (Tolkien), Bombur (Tolkien), Dain (Thorin), Thranduil (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Smaug (Tolkien), Original Dwarf Character(s), Original Female Dwarf Character(s)

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/You, Thorin Oakenshield & Original Female Character(s), Thorin Oakenshield & Reader, Thorin Oakenshield & Thorin's Company, Dís & Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Thorin Oakenshield, Dís/Dís's Husband, Dís & Frerin & Thorin Oakenshield, Dís (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Major Original Character(s), Sadness, like real sad sometimes, but also real happy and fluffly, Sad and Happy, Slow Burn, like really slow burn, but also they've always loved each other (ish), they're just dumb, Protective Thorin, Stubborn Thorin, Awkward Thorin, Thorin Is an Idiot, but he's such a sweet idiot, Falling In Love, Soulmates, Intimacy, both sexual and non-sexual, Tenderness, Sex, Lots of Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Innuendo, First Time, Loss of Virginity, betrothal, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Class Differences, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Courting, Thorin is the Most Devoted Lover, Did I mention there's sex?, And Lots of Fluff?, Bathing/Washing, Overprotective Thorin, Uncle Thorin, Thorin Would Be the Best Dad, Little Dwarflings, Young Fíli and Kíli, Dis is a badass, All Female Dwarves are Badass, Male-Female Friendship, Female Friendship, Family Fluff, Thorin is a Softie, Durin Family Feels, Baby Durins, Thorin Feels, so many feels, Shameless Thorin Worship, Did I Mention I Love Thorin?, Probably More Than It Is Healthy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2x3MrK0