#young thorin oakenshield

[mrkida-art]

Young dwarf Thorin

[basil--and--sage]

Uncle Thorin headcanons nobody can dissuade me from, part 2: young uncle Thorin

(part 1), (Dwalin)

during Dís' pregnancies he acts like a rock for her and her nervous husband, while he is secretly terrified when she goes into labour

he weeps the first time he gets to hold his nephews (and the 10 times afterwards)

he handles Fíli like a bomb in the beginning, because he is scared of accidently dropping or hurting him

after Fíli is weaned and Kíli is born, Dís and her husband have a hard time, since Kíli is a very restless baby. To give them some more breathing room, little Fíli spends the next few years in a sling tied around Thorin's chest and accompanies him everywhere. Thorin is more than a little sad, when this time ends, but fortunately soon Kíli is weaned and then Thorin gets to carry him around everywhere

he gives them cute nicknames. Fíli is his jewel and Kíli his gem.

he goes into crisis mode whenever one of the lads coughs more than once (fortunately Óin is very patient)

when Fíli and Kíli are small, they often climb into his bed at night, for example when they are cold or scared. It usually ends with Thorin waking up with at least one of Kíli's feet in his face or an elbow in his gut

he cuddles the two all the time and after little Gimli is born, he gets the same treatment

whenever all of them get together, Thorin usually ends up with three Dwarflings on his lap. (he found a way to stack them. Dís doesn't know what to think about that)

the only reason Fíli and Kíli don't call him adad is the fact, that Thorin would never claim that title out of respect for his late brother-in-law

when they are all of a sudden grown-ups, he sorely misses the time when they were small enough to sit on his knee or come running for a hug

he has a box hidden under his bed with his nephews' old things. He gets a little misty-eyed whenever he looks at their tiny baby boots. (one time he shows them to Dwalin, which ends with both of them sobbing. They don't speak of this afternoon)

he is in general a lot more affectionate and caring with them than on the quest, which is one of the reasons Fíli and Kíli are disturbed by his behaviour starting in mirkwood

[redfay]

testin a new brush w/ my young!thorin au

[pilkypills]

jewelry

[queerofthedagger]

Thorin, son of Thrain, Prince of Erebor

[mrbigpepperoninipples]

I DID IT I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!2!2!3!!!1!!11

Drawing from this post

[neil-jortson]

Alright y’all new fandom time someone give me the name of the long form rewrite of the hobbit where bilbo kisses a man

[morningnoodles]

bilbo: hey, has thorin been acting different?

frodo: honestly, i haven't seen him. what did he say, when you asked him what's wrong?

bilbo: uh...

frodo: you didn't ask him? sheesh. it is a wonder you're not a landscaper, the way you beat around the bush.

[osakateto]

Little Frodo with his gay uncles

[logicallyblind]

wait i’m going insane how did i not know frerin was only 48 when he fought at azanulbizar??? he was fourty eight he was just a baby i-

[thewarriorandtheking]

Thorin spam 148 / ?

[mrkida-art]

The children of Thráin II; Thorin, Frerin and Dís.

[thorinsghivashel]

Young Dwarf Prince Thorin son of Thrain...💙💙💙

[redfay]

little pic for my young!thorin au

[babe-bombadil]

A Long-Lost Home

Summary: A short story of young Fili and his uncle Thorin

Written for @tolkienfamilyweek Day 3 - Extended Family

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,053

Read on AO3 or below

Thorin kicked off his boots and let out a huff. Winter was coming, and each day the trek from the forge back to the house he shared with his sister became more difficult. He shrugged off his coat and made his way to the kitchen, fully expecting an ambush from his sister-sons at any moment. Young Fili and Kili never seemed to tire of jumping on him as soon as his presence was made known, no matter how difficult his day has been. Eventually, Thorin had learned to accept the inevitable and humor them for a bit before relaxing for the evening. When no tiny arms were flung around him, he cautiously approached the kitchen.

On the counter sat Kili, his tiny mouth and hands covered in pink stains. Dis was furiously rubbing a rag on his face, attempting to scrub some of it off. 

“Mum, that huuuurts,” the young dwarf groaned.

“Well, next time maybe you ought to be a little clearer while eating. Or perhaps just stay away from the raspberry bushes altogether!” Dis gave a little shake of her head and dipped the rag into a nearby bowl of water.

“Uncle Forin!!” Kili screamed as he caught sight of him. The boy had recently lost his front teeth and Thorin had to fight a smile anytime his lisp made an appearance. Unfortunately, however, Kili hadn’t yet learned the value of volume control. It seemed he only knew how to yell. The line of Durin’s eardrums sustained continual damage.

The young dwarf reached his hands out to his uncle but before Thorin could lift him off the counter, Dis turned and shot her brother a glare.

“Oh no you don’t! This one’s not going anywhere till I get him cleaned up.” Kili looked back up at his uncle, big brown eyes pleading to be saved. Another time Thorin may have taken the boy’s side, but he knew there was no use provoking Dis when she was already in a sour mood. She too had the legendary Durin temper.

A frustrated shriek and the sound of something crashing echoed down the hall from the direction of the bathroom. Dis, still scrubbing Kili’s face, turned to Thorin with a sigh.

“Would you please go see what that’s about? Fili’s been in there half an hour, doing Durin knows what.” Thorin squeezed his sister’s shoulder and turned in the direction of the commotion.

Fili was standing on a chair and glaring in the mirror. An unfinished plait laid partly done across his scalp. Well, if you could call it a plait. It was more like extra knots added into already very tangled hair.

“Now, now Fili my boy. What’s the matter?” 

Fili’s words came out in a rush.

“I was trying to braid my hair but it was so tangled cause me and Kili were playing in the bushes today but I couldn’t brush it out so I just tried braiding it but it won't work and now my arms hurt so bad and-“ Fili let go of his hair and buried his face in his arms with a frustrated huff. Thorin felt a touch of sympathy for his nephew. He very clearly remembered his own frustration when first learning to braid his hair. He laid a hand on Fili’s back.

“I felt the same way when I first learned to braid.”

“You?” Fili turned large eyes up to Thorin. “But you’re good at everything, Uncle!” A gruff chuckle escaped Thorin’s throat. 

“Not at first I wasn’t. It took a lot of practice and patience.”

“But I’ve been practicing so long !” Fili cried. “And I’ll never get these tangles out of my hair. I’m doomed to be ugly forever!” Thorin couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth lifting at that. His two nephews quite enjoyed catastrophizing.

“Let me help you then,” Thorin offered. He reached up into one of the shelves and pulled out a brush. Starting at the ends of Fili’s golden locks, he gently worked through each tangle. Fili’s head wasn’t as sensitive as his brother’s, who refused to even have his hair brushed, much less braided. Still, he involuntarily winced a few times when Thorin pulled a little too hard. When the brush finally passed unencumbered through the golden strands, the elder dwarf set it down and began parting the hair. He separated it into five thin bundles and began braiding.

“Um, Uncle?” Fili asked tentatively. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Can you tell me some more stories of home?” Thorin paused and looked down, swallowing an unexpected lump in his throat. Fili hadn’t yet been born when the dwarves had fled Erebor. He had never known the kingdom under the mountain. Yet, he still called it home. While Kili often begged his uncle for tales of adventure and bravery, Fili tended to like the tales of the lost kingdom more. The home he had never known.

“Uncle?” Fili’s small voice broke Thorin out of his reverie.

“Oh course, dear nephew.” He took a deep breath. “In the kingdom of Erebor lived a great king…”

Fili leaned into his uncle’s touch as Thorin gently pulled his hair through intricate patterns. While he weaved the hair, he weaved tales of Erebor. He let his love for his homeland shine through the stories. He told of the noble king Thror, whose rule was so great that even the elves paid respects to him. He told of the magnificent statues carved of ancient dwarf kings. He told of the vast riches the treasury held, of the prosperity of his people. He described great feasts held in the mighty halls of Erebor, the sound of laughter echoing off the high ceilings.

He did not speak of Smaug, nor of the gold sickness that took his grandfather. He spoke not of the Pale Orc nor the mines of Moria. Those tales could wait. For now, he would speak of happier times. Of golden days spent in his grandfather’s halls under the mountain.

At that moment, Thorin made an oath. He had always known one day he would reclaim Erebor, but today he promised himself that when he did, his nephews would be right there beside him. The line of Durin would return to their rightful place on the throne, where they would rule for centuries to come.

Thanks to @psyche-the-ya-protagonist for being my awesome beta reader!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Let me know your thoughts or personal headcanons!

[vee-vee-writes]

I Need a Hero (Thorin x reader)

A/N: Potentially going to make this into a series if people are interested. Also I have finished a part 2 to Floral Arrangements but I am stuck away from my usual PC so it will be a week or so until I get it up sorry.

You’d heard tales of a lost prince trapped within his mountain home, guarded by a fire breathing dragon. Legend said that the one to free Prince Durin would be blessed by Mahal himself to eternal happiness and all the other joys a dwarf could imagine. It was then of no surprise to you that the remining Dwarf Lords sent their sons and daughters to free the dwarven prince. None were successful and no word had been heard from them since.

What shocked you was your Lord’s command, sending you to try to recover the prince. You were a member of the royal guard, but you certainly weren’t the most notable of the guard by any means. Going would be a death sentence but refusing your Lord’s request was treason of the highest degree. With heavy reluctance you undertook the two-day journey to Erebor.

You found yourself at the foot of the mountain, wondering if this place would be your tomb. A cold stone mausoleum. With your mule tied down you made your way to the makeshift rickety wooden bridge up to the entrance. The original stone bridge and much of the entrance had fallen away, whether to time or the dragon’s rampage you were not sure. From the size of the hole in the entrance, you assumed that the dragon had smashed through it on the day of the siege. To survive this, you would have to have your guard up.

Creeping forward through the entrance you began to survey the interior entrance, looking for some sign of where you should go. Your Lord had shown you an old map of Erebor from during its heyday. Amongst the litter of broken stones, melted metal, and scattered skeletal bones you saw what looked to be a large stone sign laying amongst it. Scanning around you saw no sign of life. Taking this as a sign you stealthily crept over to read it. MARKET. THRONE ROOM. GREAT HALL. LIVING QUARTERS. ROYAL WING – were all marked out on the sign. Your mental map of the mountain layout was somewhat correct, you would need to head down the left-hand tunnel to the royal wing. The entrance to the wing was further back in the room,

Heading to the left wing you began climbing over a pile of rubble to get through the entrance. The material was like nothing you had ever felt before, firm underhand and unshifting. It was not until the pile moved, letting out a chuckle that made you freeze in place. “Of all the witless fools who have entered my mountain, never have I had one practically walk into my jaws” the pile puffed in amusement. Scrambling off to the other side and tumbling to your feet in the hallway of the beginning of the royal wing you began to run. “Flee, flee, run for your life, there is nowhere to hide from my fiery death.”

The pile had not been a pile at all but the great dragon Smaug who had cloaked himself in shadows. Looking over your shoulder as you fled you looked on in horror as the dragon began to force his body through the doorway, cracking the stone to fit his bulbous body through. Facing forward once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and mustered all the strength and will within yourself to continue faster without looking back, skidding around corners without slipping over.

After an eternity of running, you came before a door at the end of the long corridor. You heard the dragon in the distance behind you, wriggling its body down the corridor like a great wyrm. Not wanting to take the chance that he may catch you, you pushed the great oaken door open and slipped in.

The golden torch light took you off guard, you hadn’t expected to actually find the prince let alone find him by mistake. A large spacious suite was laid out before you, completely untouched by the devastation you’d seen in the entrance way. On one of the couches staring at you in awe was a dark haired and bearded dwarf of substantial build and handsome profile. You were unsure of what to say to him.

It was he who broke the silence, “Sixty-years. Sixty-years I have not seen another living soul though I have heard the echoes of their screams. Thank you, I am indebted to you. Who may I call my hero.” Smiling warmly at the young prince you answered his query, “I am (Y/N) of (Y/K/N). I was sent by my Lord to recover you your highness.” “(Y/N)” he tasted the syllables of your name on his tongue, “a noble name.” Never had you heard of a noble of your name but for the sake of argument you agreed, you would need the co-operation of the prince if the two of you were to survive.

“Tell me (Y/N)” he paused, “how did you slay the beast?” A loud grumbling roar reverberated on the stone surrounding the pair of you, the dragon neared. Thorin stared at your slacked jaw in disbelief. “You didn’t slay the dragon! The prophecy says you are supposed to slay the dragon before you rescue me” Thorin snapped, “no, no, no, this is all wrong.” “We don’t have time for this your highness. We have to go” you pleaded motioning to the window, "or do you want to be stuck here for another sixty years." Pulling his lips back in a snarl Thorin grunted, “you’ve given me no choice. What’s your plan?” “Where does this window lead?” you questioned. “The courtyard after the entrance. It was built to wow our foreign visitors.”

“Exactly where we need to be. If that doesn't work, we head for the secret tunnel. That's our escape. We just have to avoid the dragon until we reach it. I doubt he knows of its existence.” You mused. “Secret tunnel?” Thorin questioned doubtfully. “Mmhm. Built by Thror when he founded your mountain home and kept secret from all but his heir. I’m surprised that he never told you of it. Though I’m sure when it came time, Thrain would have told you all the Kingly secrets of this place” you affirmed to Thorin, “come now, enough talking. Let’s tie the sheets together and escape your stone prison.”

The two of you worked quickly together knotting sheets, cloak, and shirt alike to make a long enough chain to escape the tower. You scaled the tower first, checking for any sign of the dragon before beckoning the prince down. Neither of you dared call out for fear of alerting Smaug to your scheme. Instead, you crept into the airy silence, staying low to the ground out of fear of being spotted.

The longer the two of you crept in silence, the more worried the two of you grew. It was the clatter of golden coins bouncing off the stone floor beside you that shook the two of you. Simultaneously your eyes met the prince’s, both wide as dinner plates, before gazing up to the dragon's belly above you as he slunk through the castle.

The two of you lay prone on the floor mapping out the course the dragon was taking. Crawling close to Thorin you pressed in against his side and leaned over to whisper into his ear, "We follow the dragon. Keep low, keep quiet. It's heading in the direction we need to go." Thorin nodded in response and the two of you headed off, crawling after the dragon.

You crept like that for what felt like hours, scared even to breathe too loudly, and alerted the dragon to your presences. Finally, the dragon stopped just before the gate, staring out over the nearby land, likely surveying for the two of you. Thorin nudged you and gestured at a cove of rock that the two of you could cover in. With a firm nod the two of you made your way over and got comfy, waiting the dragon out. It would be easier to wait him out than it would to make for the hidden entrance now.

Though it seemed that Thorin didn't quite have the same idea. Instead, the darrow grabbed a huge hunk of broken rock, vaulting it as far as he could back into the entrance way before quickly hunkering in with you. Smaug's head snapped around to the source of the sound and he began to stalk across towards it. Neither of you had expected was for the dragon to pause before whipping around and breathing molten fire across the entrance way debris. With a satisfied smirk he turned back around and stomped down the hallway, disappearing around the corner into the darkness.

"What now" Thorin whispered harshly. "We could have waited him out" you grumped with a pointed look, "but now we have to find another way up and out around the fire." Thorin sighed with a defeated look and nodded, gesturing for you to take the lead. "Move as fast as you can while still being quiet. The last thing we want to do is tip the beast off to our location, he's already suspicious of us" you affirmed before taking the lead out towards the flaming gate.

You scanned frantically around the entrance looking for a way around the flame. Thorin gripped your shoulder, "focus." Drawing a deep breath, you narrowed your focus. Homing in on the wall you found an old half rusted chain fixed to one of the walls. "That's our way out come on."

A tug on the chain caused it to groan but it stayed fixed in place. Signaling upwards you spoke to Thorin, "You first. I'll stay down here and keep looking out as you climb." "Let me get this straight, you want me, the crown prince, to climb an old, rusted chain up a forty-foot wall hoping that a) I don't fall and b) that I don't get spotted by a fire breathing drake that you failed to kill" Thorin huffed. Smiling sarcastically, you answered, "exactly. Now unless you want to be stuck here even longer, get up the wall. Besides there's no guarantee that the chain will hold two of us."

Rolling his eyes at you Thorin begrudgingly took the chain and began scaling the wall. On edge you clenched your teeth, scanning for any sight of the scaly magot. Groaning of the chain caused your breath to catch in your throat. While you wanted the prince out of the mountain and safe, you hardly wanted to be stuck within the mountain crawling around looking for another way out while the dragon stalked around looking for you. You leaned tensely against the wall, begging your body and mind to calm themselves for the sake of your survival.

The familiar clink of a coin hitting the concrete shot you out of your thoughts, though this time it bounced and rolled to land off to your side. Frightenedly, you cast your eyes upwards only to find Thorin at the top of the wall trying to signal he was ready for you to make your way up.  Grabbing the chain you began the climb, hauling yourself up your limbs groaning as the tension was forcefully stretched out of them. Higher and higher you climbed, stopping only briefly to steady your grip on the vertical drop. All the time you stared upwards to the top of the wall, meeting the prince's anxious gaze.

Nearing the top Thorin reached an arm down to you, helping you over and up on the top of the exterior wall. The two of you smiled briefly at one another as he helped you up to your feet. You watched his face change as he looked out over the remains of Dale and the changed wilds. Most would have turned their noses up in horror, but Thorin gazed on in wonder, the edges of his mouth turning up into an appreciative smile. He hadn't seen the outside world since the Sack you realised. You knew it was only a small gesture, but you laid a comforting hand on his, stroking his palm gently. Thorin looked at you tenderly, taking in the touch of another being and the sight of your hand within his. "Welcome back to the world Thorin Durin."

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