#thorin boot caps

[khazdmazerb]

Hey, come here.. let me tell you something..

Dwobbit Frodo loves his Aunt Dis.

Frodo might be a tornado with a sword but he’s also rather sensitive by dwarven standards and while Dis is as tough as a steel capped boot she’s also a dame and a mother and loves her sulky, sensitive little nephew.

Frodo: *storming into Dis’s Chambers* I’ve had enough! I just can’t!

Dis: *looking up from a length of chain she was closing* Oh?

Frodo: *Standing there with his hands balled in his shirt lip quivering* they make fun of me! Even- even when I beat them! Even when I train harder and fight better

Dis: *standing and bonking her head against her nephew with a chuckle* that’s called jealousy dear one.

Frodo: they aren’t jealous of me! They said I’m a cry baby

Dis: a cry baby hmm? Sounds like a peddle a used to know

Frodo: Dwarves don’t cry..

Dis: ah but this one did, all the time, even now I think he weeps when no one is looking for he has a lot to cry about

Frodo: who?

Dis: Thorin

Frodo: WHAT!? âdâ doesn’t…what?

Dis: yup! Your father was a the biggest cry baby of them all even at your age!

Frodo: *stunned*

Dis: I’m pretty sure that’s why he sulks when he’s upset because if he spoke loudly his voice would crack…

Frodo: *wipes his eyes and laughs* that’s horrible!

Dis: just.. don’t tell him I told you or there will be a royal funeral

Frodo: for who?

Dis: who ever loses the death match your âdâ would challenge me to for telling his son he has emotions other then angry and hungry

Frodo: *well and truly cheered up* Thanks zâmar *bumps heads with her lightly and runs off to go back to his training*

Dis: *watching that that little mop of black hair disappear out her door* Mahal.. Frerin would have loved that boy

[woahwierdly]

I’ve feeling about making a fanfiction about a woman getting thrown into the hobbit trying to find her husband but also since it’s been so long maybe finding a new love? Let me know what you think!

I don’t own the hobbit this is merely fanfiction!

Thorin x OC

Emily fell into this world and her husband from her world fell in with her from what she thought, but she hasn’t been able to find him. See Emily had just married her best friend Mark but as they hiking up a mountain for a date they both fell into a cavern and it was lights out. When Emily awoke she was alone in a green field with small homes around her. The sun was high and it was the most beautiful place she’d even seen. Emily was wearing dark black jeans with combat boots, a burgundy hoodie, a thin rain jacket and a baseball cap. She had her old phone but that only lasted a day with her battery dying and she had her wallet with some photos of her family. She wondered for a bit before she found a green door. When she knocked on the door a little man name Bilbo Baggins opened the door. To say she was shocked was an understatement. She quickly realized she was in one of her favorite books. And as much fan-fiction as she read she thought she was going to save the line of Durin but…. Bilbo had just turned 57…. Meaning she had three years before the quest even started! Plus the fact she wanted to try to find Mark so she wouldn’t do it alone! But she had no means of travel, money or anything when she landed in the Shire besides the clothes on her back.

Her and Bilbo quickly made friends and he offered a room in BagEnd so she could get a footing. Within those three years she was gifted quite a nice bow set from Bilbo from Bree because she said she was an expert hunter which she was! Back in her world she often went hunting with her father or husband! She helped provide meat and get rid of a pack of wolves from BagEnd! Emily was quite helpful within the Hobbiton community. And it helped her make money for traveling or clothes. She first got five pairs of blue, a couple white cotton shirts, new boots, a traveling pack, arrows, a cloak with a hood made rain resistant. Now even though Emily and Bilbo were friends she kept her secret, never telling him her knowledge of what has yet to come, she wanted to meet with Gandalf and find her husband to return home…. If her husband is even in Middle Earth. She always wondered if Mark was here, alive or thought about her…. But she didn’t know.

All she knew was today was the day. It was Bilbos 60th birthday! Meaning Gandalf should be by today to inquisit some ideas to Bilbo.

She chuckled to herself not believing she been able to witness this world for three years, it went by so fast and now it’s almost time. Her arms ached with the want of going home and her head felt light. She was ready. As she was gathering rabbits for a stew Bilbo wanted she thought maybe I should have gotten more…for the company but she decided against it. This has to happened naturally well until Gandalf tells her to do soemthing.

It was afternoon by the time Emily left to go hunting and now it was dark, she should be able to see the mark and hopefully hear everyone’s voices or make it just after Balin.

She made her way through the quiet Hobbit town looking around she felt sad, she made a small but comfort life here. Made friends and helped more than she could have imagined. To be getting ready to leave left a small hole in her heart. Putting up her gloved finger to her eye Emily wiped off a small tear that threatened to fall. Chuckling to herself she couldn’t believe how attached she got. As she got closer to BagEnd she could hear Bilbo berating the pack of dwarves for pillaging the pantry.

Breathing in a deep of air, Emily had her hand on the door handle ready to start, and go back to her home. The door opened and the soft glow of lanterns lit the room and onto her face.

This is it. The adventure. The hope. Emily was ready. She would not fail saving the love of Durin, finding her husband and going home.

well??? Leave a review please! More chapter to come! I want it to be a slow burn? Hmmm have decided!::)

[armory-rasa]

Thorin boot caps, start to finish

I’d made the pattern for his boot caps available in my shop, but unlike my other pattern packages, it didn’t come with instructions on how to make them. So, here is me fixing that with a quick step-by-step tutorial. :)

Step one, print your pattern, trace it out (twice) onto 10 oz veg-tan:

(The reason that leather is an odd shape is because it was a discarded panel from the Witcher armor. Waste not, want not, I suppose. 🤣)

Cut it out; you can use a utility knife or an exacto knife for this:

Case it, aka dunk it in water a bit until it softens up:

Then you’ll probably want to put it in a plastic bag or something overnight, so that the water can evenly permeate the leather. I wrote a whooooooole big thing on proper casing that’s much too long to retread here, but is worth a read if you’re trying to git gud at leather tooling.

When the leather is well cased, take a stylus (or a ballpoint pen) and trace the design from your pattern piece. The leather should darken where you’ve indented it, an effect called burnishing, that makes your traced design very easy to see:

(And if your design isn’t burnishing well, that’s usually a tip-off that your leather is still much too wet.)

The next step is to use a swivel knife to go over all the lines you traced. I actually forgot to take a picture of this step, but digging around on my computer turned up a very old WIP photo from the same project, showing the carved lines next to the traced lines:

If you haven’t used a swivel knife before, I strongly advise doing a lot of practice on scrap leather before you attempt it on your project -- it’s unintuitive for people who aren’t used to it, and in my opinion it is one of the hardest leatherworking tools to master. On the plus side: this project is entirely straight lines, which makes it much easier.

Once you’ve got your cutlines made, you are going to bevel every single one of them -- outward from the design, inward from the edges of the piece.

It looks kind of complicated at a glance, but technically speaking it’s very simple, since all you’re doing is bevelling. You can do almost the entire thing with a single stamp, a wide checkered beveller (Craftool B971, if you’re buying from Tandy Leather), and switch to a narrower beveller (what’s shown here is a Barry King tool; the closest Craftool equivalent would probably be B936) for getting into a couple of tight crannies.

When your tooling is done, you’ll want to put some texturing on the overall piece, because that will make it look better when it comes time to paint it. I have a mallet I made for exactly this purpose, a cheapo rubber mallet that I pockmarked with a dremel, but you can literally just go outside and find a rock for this step:

Take a rivet hole punch (~2 mm) and punch the holes as shown: 

(Or punch different holes -- this is going to be how you attach them to your shoes, and there are a lot of different ways you could go about that.)

Take your edge beveller and round off the sharp square edges (you’ll do this on both the top side and the underside), as shown below:

Punch stitching holes as shown. If you don’t have one of these punches, you can poke the holes with with an awl instead, it’ll just be slower.

Take your knife again and carefully cut at a 45 degree angle from the top of your stitching holes to the edge of the leather. This is what is going to allow them to come together to form a tidy right angle:

Mark the lines where it’s going to fold, and do something similar there. The key is that we’re removing material to make it easier to bend the leather, and make for sharper angles in the folds.

Time to dye! For this (and other armor pieces that get gilded afterward) I use Eco-Flo Waterstain in black. Leave the angled edges you cut undyed, because that will help them adhere better when it comes time to glue:

And before you leave them to dry, pre-fold them into the final shape you want -- it will put less strain on the glue, and folding leather after it’s dry can cause it to crack.

When the dye is dry, apply contact cement to the angled edges:

Wait 15~20 minutes for the contact cement to set, and then firmly press the edges together, being careful to have them correctly aligned before you do. (Because you only get one shot with contact cement, and if you set it crooked, you’ll have to pry them apart, scrub the glue off, and try again.)

Time to stitch up the corners, because glue is almost never meant to be the ONLY thing holding leather together. Start like so, with 12″ of waxed black thread and two blunt needles:

And then you just kinda.... sew up the line. I’m not sure how to explain it, just stick needles in holes in a way that makes sense.

From the outside:

From the inside:

Then tie off a knot with your loose ends, and clip them down to like 3/4″. With the tie-off at the top rather than the bottom, it’s not likely to come loose because there’s no strain being put on it at that point.

Then, because those glued-together edges are currently very ugly, you’ll want to take them down with some sandpaper, or a knife if you’ve got a steady hand. I use the sanding drum on a dremel, to make them level and smooth them out:

And then you’ll need to hit those edges with another quick coat of the black dye, and buff them smooth, which I also forgot to take a picture of. Fortunately this step is easy: edges are undyed, so dye them.

Very last step is to put the metal color on them. In all the reference pics they look like a very muddy bronze, and I found a great mimic for that in Rub n Buff’s “Spanish Copper.”

It’s very simple to apply, you just coat your finger with a very small amount of it, and then dab/rub it lightly over your surface. It gilds the raised areas without getting into the crevices, which does a brilliant job bringing out the textural detail in your work.

That said, if you don’t have that product and don’t want to acquire it, you can dry-brush it with your acrylic paint of choice.

And then you’re done -- le voila, Thorin boot caps!

[mithrilhearts]

Okay here's a concept.

Thorin is taller than Bilbo. Bilbo is fussy and grumpy and doesn't like reaching up. Thorin has steel toe capped boots. Bilbo stands on Thorins boots to get more reach

I love love love this concept so much - whether genuine, or just teasing Bilbo to stand on his boots, it's adorable to me. I love it. 10/10 stars, always.

[lathalea]

Never

Here is the newest Thorin Oakenshield fic for the Armitage Summer Splash event :) Watch out for angst!

WEEK 3 - PROMPT 15

Trope: Arranged marriage Quote: “How can you possibly think that?”

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Rating: G

You can find this fic on AO3.

Never

You take in the beauty of the Misty Mountains. Their perfect reflection in the water. Their silent, eternal presence.

This is supposed to be the best time of your life. You have just wedded none other than Thorin Oakenshield and now you are travelling with him to the legendary Erebor. This Dwarf is not only a great king and a brave warrior, but also an honourable person. And his looks make maidens swoon. Many would do anything in order to trade places with you, become his wife — and a queen. And you would gladly take them up on their offer. If you could have it your way, you would have married someone else.

Heavy steps interrupt your musings. Quickly, you brush away a stray tear and turn towards the sound. It is him. The one you are to call “my lord husband” from now on, whether you like it or not. You close your eyes for a moment and see the smiling face of your beloved, the one you have always dreamed of addressing lovingly as your husband. Now, you never will. You will never wake up next to him and look into his cornflower eyes. You will never see how he teaches your first child to walk. You will never kiss him again nor braid his golden hair. And you will have to withstand the torture of seeing him every day — with his new wife.

“It is time we moved out, my lady wife. If the weather is good, we may arrive at the banks of Anduin tonight,” the King Under the Mountain says. His voice is like a distant rumble of a storm.

“Of course,” you nod and start walking towards the horses and your escort.

“I know you did not wish for this marriage to happen.” His words make you stop in your tracks. “And I respect that. But it is done. I would like to assure you that I will try my best to be a good husband to you.”

That word again. Husband.

“I see,” you look at the iron toe caps of your boots.

A sea of silence grows between you. You hear his voice again. It’s oddly distant, as if he stood on the opposite shore.

“I hope that in time I can earn your respect as well. Or any other feelings beyond…”

“How can you possibly think that?” you interrupt. “Can you not see I do not love you and I never will?!”

Thorin Oakenshield, your lord husband, looks at you with a furrowed brow, making you think of an ancient sculpture chiselled by an artist. Cold and soulless.

“Are you certain, my lady? Many couples like us find…”

“Can you not see? There is no ‘us’ and there never will be! I gave my heart to Fili, not you!”

The name of the king’s nephew echoes against the granite mountain slopes long after you have left Mirrormere behind.

Riding behind your husband, you never see how that very name extinguished a spark in his eyes.

📜 Searching for more stories to read and more art to look at? 📜 📜Here is the masterlist for Week 3 of the Armitage Summer Splash event. 📜

General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @guylty

Thorin/ME taglist: @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @jaskierthelover @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad

[valandhirwriter]

Thank you for tagging me @regis-favorite-raven and as this is the second round of being tagged for this, I will answer for my other account. i did for https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardhwion and this time it will be for https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valandhir.

These stories are older, and the one listed first is actually the first part of the saga, which is was completely re.written.

A distant Light

The grave was not deep beneath the Mountain, as stories later would tell – it was outside on the height under the pines that long ago had blazed in Smaug’s terrible fire.

As their horses sped towards the dwarven road, Boromir laughed.

Wishes are no Horses

The day Boromir learned of his brother’s death was a wretched spring day in Ithilien; a constant rainstorm had been blowing from the south for three days, drenching the entire landscape in a deluge that turned the grounds into a virtual swamp.

But wishes were no horses, and all that remained for Aragorn was to wish Boromir a speedy journey into the land where pain and darkness were but a memory, as he stood alone before the grave and around him fell another icy night over the plains of East.

The Heart of the Journey

The golden hall of Meduseld was warm to the point of being stuffy on summer days, and Gríma disliked that heat with a passion, there were not windows to open and the main doors could not be left open all day, no matter how much of a relief it would be.

Far away, against the crisp skies of late spring rose a mighty chain of mountains, dark peaks capped with ice, and though they were thousands of leagues away still, Boromir’s heart sang with their sight – he was going home.

At the edge of the world

Another wave rose nearly to the bow of the Sealion, crushing against the mighty wooden body of the ship, white foam spraying over the deck. Boromir raised his arm to shield against the repeated spray, and then grabbed the salt-smoothed railing as the deck rolled heavily under his boots.

When Boromir turned around, he saw the broken island surrounded by crashing waters and on the tip of the landside stood a tall Easterling, one arm outstretched, sword raised to the skies, embraced by the storm.

The Twilight Years

Icy wind drove a chilled shower of snow and icicles against Bilbo’s pony, and sent fresh shivers right into his bones. It was the first time in his life that he had voluntarily wrapped something around his feet, to keep them from freezing.

Thorin watched both riders until they vanished behind the hills, in his heart he knew they would not meet again in this world.

Durin's Bane

The sight of the Eastern Gate always woke mixed feelings in Boromir, when seeing it from afar.

He would honor his memory by living, by not breaking and he’d fight hard to prove he had been worth such sacrifice.

First and last lines

I was tagged by @definitely-not-iorveth, thank you, seems fun since you laughed your ass off... let's see.

Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. No context.

"Your Majesty, the minstrels are here." -> Emhyr pulled the bed curtains closed, smiling smugly.

The trip to Toussaint was a disaster from the start. -> The sun was rising.

The palace’s air was suffocating. -> His hunger was far from being satisfied.

"You want me to do what?" -> "Valid," Emhyr repeated with satisfaction and smiled.

Of all the complicated lovers Geralt ever had, Emhyr var Emreis was the worst. -> He underestimated Dandelion again... but that is another story.

Okay, okay, it IS kinda funny ;)

I'm tagging @valandhirwriter, @regis-favorite-raven, @jayofolympus and @bawdybean

[ithrilyann]

“Putting on the boots and walking as Thorin… I kind of wish I had those boots, I wish I’d kept them!” (x)

“Armitage liked his boots so much, he jokes that they'll soon take the fashion world by storm. ‘They are the most funky things you've ever seen,’ Armitage says of his gear, made of leather and fur and featuring a three-inch steel toe cap”. (x)

😍  ❤️

[i-am-still-bb]

Fluffuary 2023 - Day 18 - reunion OR caretaking

Fili Dead Batteries AU - Tumblr / Ao3

Ao3

--

A/N: This comes immediately prior to the series namesake story. Not particularly fluffy.

--

“Fili! Your phone’s ringing!” Bofur nudged Fili’s boot.

Fili fit the wrench to the bolt, but didn’t turn it. “Can’t it wait?”

“It’s Thorin. I’ve already sent it to voicemail twice now and he just calls back. You know how he is”

“Yeah, I know,” Fili sighed. “Just answer it. Let me get this undertray off,” Fili started loosening the bolt again. When it came free the plastic undertray dropped down and he had to hold it in place with his forearm while he loosened the other bolds. “Hey! And hand me that oil drain pan, would you?” He held his hand out hoping that Bofur had heard him. He could hear Bofur talking on the phone.

The drip pan was placed in Fili’s outstretched hand.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Bofur was concluding the call as Fili rolled out from under the car, the creeper’s wheels protesting as he did so.

“What’d he want?” Fili asked, wiping his fingers on a rag.

“He needs you to take the property tax for the garage to be paid in person.”

“What? Why?”

“Something about it being two weeks late already and him being busy.”

“And it has to be done today?”

“It’s Friday, and on Monday it will be three weeks late.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten in trouble with the number of times that he’s forgotten to pay the taxes on this place.” Fili shook his head.

“It helps that he’s got your mother to remind him,” Bofur replied with a grin.

“She gives one hell of a reminder that’s for sure.

“Just let me finish this oil change and then I’ll take it.” Fili lay back down on the creeper and, oil filter in hand, started to pull himself under the car again.

“I’ll get someone else to finish this. It’s already 3 and it has to be taken to Lake Town.”

“That’s 45m away! It can’t be paid here?”

“I’m just the messenger. I’ll tell him that you’re on your way.”

“My way where?” Fili shouted at Bofur’s retreating back.

“He’s at his place and he’s got the check with him!” Bofur shouted back. He heard Fili swearing before the office door shut between them.

—

Fili had walked through the office door at 4:57pm. The clerk was sitting on the edge of his desk staring at his watch, counting down to 5pm. His whole body groaned even though he did not make a sound when he saw Fili.

A few words were exchanged and Fili was out the door.

The pavement had been baking all day in the late Spring sunlight and it was making Fili regret his long sleeved shirt, especially while wearing his helmet. His bike roared to life when he turned it on. It was a sound that drowned out most thoughts. And once on the road the noise of the tires and wind drowned out the rest of them. He never watched them time when he was on his bike. He knew when he needed to be someplace and he knew how long it would take to get there, but once he settled onto the seat he did not worry about it.

The drive between Lake Town and Pais was a straight road with slight hills and valleys. It gave Fili plenty of time to watch the golden brown fields or glance to his right to see the outlines of mountains still capped in snow.

It also meant that he saw the disabled vehicle long before he passed it. He watched one car, then another, and then a semi truck that buffeted the car and it’s driver who was standing on the passenger side with its draft, pass the rusted Civic.

It gave him plenty of time to decide to stop to offer his skills or his cellphone or even a ride to the driver.

He slowed down passing the car before pulling off onto the gravel shoulder.  Fili dismounted, put the kickstand down, and pulled off his helmet. He tucked his hair behind his ears before hanging the helmet from the bike’s handlebars.

He heard the driver’s voice as soon as he removed the helmet and his heartbeat stuttered..

No.

But then he turned and saw the driver’s face. And…

Fuck.

Fili would know that face anywhere. He stood straighter, his hair was shorter with bangs that fell forward when he ducked his head. His clothes were fitted in a way that would have made the him from 10 years ago squirm and fuss even though there was plenty of ease. But it was still Kili.

Fili snorted to cover his discomfort and break the expression he felt start to settle in place as soon as he saw Kili.. “Long time no see, short stuff.” A statement that hasn’t been true since they were 14 and Kili grew three inches one summer.

Because what else could he say after all these years?

I missed you?

I hate you?

I love you?

[penwieldingdreamer]

First Meetings

So, now that I have been stuck at home due to my mother's positive Covid test and watching The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings for 6 days straight, inspiration struck again, thank god 🙏😅 The new center of this -maybe- series will be Lee Pace. Of course this is only a fantasy and everything only came from my imagination but with a pinch of real events happening, still it's going to be in an alternative universe.

Thanks for being my beta @fortheloveoffanfic

Hope you guys will like it. Let me know what you thought and if you like to be tagged in upcoming drabbles I have palned and will hopefully be able to continue now again.

Summary: You work as part of the Mae-Up and Hair Crew on set of the Hobbit Trilogy, where you meet many interesting people, but one has gotten more of your attention than you would have thought.

Warnings: none, except for a very long drabble 😅

Words: 1722

You had been part of the crew ever since Peter Jackson had started working on the Hobbit trilogy in 2011 and met everyone that had been essential to the movies on and off screen. Apparently Fran had seen your work first hand when you were at a competition for make - up artists and she was impressed by the end results. You hadn't won any of the prizes but you were only one against one hundred others and yet she wanted you to be part of the second historic movie trilogy PJ did in his life.

The first people you had met were of course the dwarves and Martin who was Bilbo in the movie. They all were fun to be around, especially Dean and Aiden, as well as James Nesbitt who would always greet you with jokes or a song, giving you something to look forward to during those nearly endless days of filming.

And then, at the ending of shooting the first movie of the trilogy Philippa came up to you, a very tall man following behind her. You had just gotten done with James' make-up and wanted some fresh air, with all the fumes inside the trailer you sometimes thought you might get sick, so you sat outside, watching the pair walk over to you.

"Y/N," she said in greeting, a smile breaking out on her face. "May I introduce you to our newest cast members. Lee is going to be Elvenking Thranduil and he's in need of your service." Pippa, as you called her, had always had a way with people and she was next to Fran and Pete the only one of your bosses you could be yourself with and even call family away from your own. In your former jobs you had only been the one for the make-up, the one being ordered around and not even been able to give an opinion to change should something not look right on the person. But here, you were part of the crew and they would listen to you.

"It's nice to meet you." You said, holding out your hand for the actor to shake. With a smile in return he grabbed it and you had to concentrate not to let your reaction show on your face. Holy shit, his hands were huge compared to your smaller ones.

Only your boss's voice pulled you back to the task at hand. "So, Lee needs to get into his wig and ears and we'd like to try the crowns with the wardrobe department. Let's say meeting in an hour and a half over at costumes?"

"Oh, uh, sure." you mumbled, hastily disentangling your hand from his. "I'll send him right over when I'm done."

Pippa grinned at you. "Why don't you come over, too? We wouldn't want there to be a repeat of Elrond's circlet like the last time."

A soft sigh escaped your lips, nodding your head you stepped up onto the small stairs outside the trailer. "I'll bring him over then and make sure the wig will be in one piece once you guys are done."

"Great, I'll see you guys later!" she said, clapping her hands and walking off, leaving you with the giant in human form standing in front of you.

Once he made sure she was out of ear shot, Lee turned back to you, a smile plastered onto his face. "Do I want to know what happened to that wig?"

"I don't think you want to know, it was a mess and the guys making the wigs were so angry because the circlet Hugo was wearing in the fitting got caught on the strands and ripped it in half. They had to do it all over again."

Nodding his head, the actor entered the trailer behind her. You told him to take the empty chair next to Richard, who was getting ready for his scenes and he took the time to watch you flit around in your workplace. Everything was chaotic and still in order all the same. When you had come back to your place, the prosthetic ears and wig in hand, Lee grinned at you, his dark blue eyes shining with mirth. "Well, we wouldn't want another repeat for the King of Woodland Elves."

"At least you're already in character, then." Richard mumbled next to him with a laugh trying not to interrupt the woman doing his make-up for the day, listening to the words leaving his co-stars mouth.

Watching the actor, who was Thorin in the movie series, he laughed. "I just need to get my crown and wardrobe and I'll be good to go, everything else is already perfect."

Ruckus laughter floated through the trailer and you couldn't help but admire the shape of his face. Before you could stop yourself, you had already mumbled a 'yes, perfect' and Lee's eyes turned back to you. You felt the blush creeping over your face, swiftly grabbing a comb and a few clips to prepare his own hair for the wig cap you were going to be putting on under. All had seen the flush spread out on your skin and Martin who was getting up from his chair next to you send you wink. That was a great way to make a first impression on the day of meeting a new part of the movie series. You were scolding yourself inside, making sure to only talk to Lee when he was asking something, otherwise keeping your mouth shut.

"Okay let's see the green coat again with the silver overcoat. Y/N, be a dear and bring me that one please." Ann Maskrey, one of the costume designers asked you, while Pete and Pippa watched Lee getting dressed in the green coat. You walked over to the wardrobe and took the first silver coat. "No, not that one, the one with the deep orange silk on the inside." So you took the correct one on the second try and held it out for Lee to put on. He grinned down at you, pulling the coat over his shoulders and straightening himself. It would be easier if he wasn't such a giant, but he was a handsome giant.

"Right then, that looks good. Let's try it with the smaller branch crown."

You sighed, hoping there wasn't going to be another wig fiasco when you helped putting the crown on. Weta had done an amazing job designing all the pieces for the movies, for all movies they worked on, but sometimes these things were a bitch to work with. Your comb and pins at the ready, he sat down on the chair, pulling the knee-high boots on over the leggings he wore underneath.

"I'm going to be gentle but if I should hurt you with the pin please let me know." you told him, lightly pinning the crown to the wig so it wouldn't fall off.

Lee had closed his eyes, hiding the bright blue contacts he wore for his role. "I can take my fair bit of pain, but if it's intolerable, I'll let you know. So far I can't complain about these gentle hands."

By the time they had taken pictures and you had finally calmed down again so the flush that had started to spread over your face and neck at the close proximity to Lee was controlled again, Ann had asked you to take off one crown and exchange it for the larger branch crown with red leaves.

"I think this is going to be a lot more striking for King Thranduil then the other one."

So you repeated the process, gently combing the wig while Lee sat on the chair, chewing his gum and closing his eyes. He even held the hairpins in his hand because he saw you struggle to get them out of the confines of your little bag. When he moved it closer to you to work with your finger touched his and if you didn't know better there was a tiny spark from that brush of skin.

Finishing up, you grabbed the unused pins from his hand and told him you were done, giving the tall actor a light tap on his shoulder. Just as he walked over to the small area where they viewed him in his costumes, the door opened and Martin and James walked inside.

"Sorry, you guys but we had a small, unfortunate accident." the Irish actor apologized, showing the burst seams on his pants. "We were doing our stunts and well."

Martin grinned, walking over to you and throwing his arm around your shoulders. "We also wanted to see what all the fuss was about that haughty elf king."

Giggling, you looked over at Lee who grinned at his co-stars and repeated the walk he did before.

"Just so you know, if I were a female dwarf, I'd tap that elf ass." James whispered into your left ear, your once controlled blush intensifying again while the blond actor nodded his head enthusiastically.

"He's a perfect elf, you know. Broad shoulder, tall, elegant, striking eyes. The hair." Martin spoke so only you and the dwarf actor could hear.

"The long legs." James added, nodding his head over to the American actor who strutted along the area, having thrown off the overcoat.

"That smouldering look." the Brit continued before you held up your hands.

"Enough, you." You hissed so no one would know what you had been talking about, but you knew they were only trying to rile you up. Yes, Lee was attractive, hell, he was gorgeous and Pippa and Pete did an amazing job casting him, but you knew him for less than a day. He could be a total asshole when he didn't have people to impress for his first day on set. "You guys should get to Lucy or Sam so they can stitch up those holes."

"Well, I'm going to tell you this, one day you'll end up with a guy like that and you'll remember what I told you. You deserve the best in your life, luv." James told you proudly, pulling you closer into a one armed hug. He was brother and father to you in one person and you knew that his words were going to bite you in your ass.

They always did.

Taglist(I wasn't sure who to tag, also who might want to read it, so please let me know if you don't want to see mor of this in your notifications)

@fortheloveoffanfic @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @omg-imagine @fanficsrusz @eevee-of-rivia @fics-not-tragedies @omgkatinka @fuck-yeah-hope @wholelottatiffy @axshadows​ @a-really-bi-girl @madbaddic7ed @maggiemoo1892 @pinkzsugar @agniavateira @mary-ann84 and everyone who might want to read this.

[westfarthingcrochet]

Yarn Recommendations for Dwarves

Skin Tones: (Same for Gimli, Thorin and Bombur) Loops and Threads Impeccable in Heather

Hair base: Lion Brand Vanna's Choice (Gimli/Bombur: Rust, Thorin: Black)

Hair strands: Lion Brands Jeans (Gimli/Bombur: Top Stitch, Thorin: Stovepipe and Vintage) 

NOTE: For the Gimli with the redder palette, I used Lion Brand Homespun in Wildfire with the winding thread (the white thread on the outside) removed. This version looks really cool in my opinion, but it is fragile. The fibers of the Homespun yarn will come out if you pull on them. I do not recommend this option for toys. If you are making Gimli for display only, this option is fine. NOTE: I was originally intending to use Homespun in Midnight Stripe for Thorin. I think option would have a better look than the Jeans yarn, but would have the same issue as the above. If you are making Thorin for display only, I recommend taking a look at this option. 

Boots: (Same for Gimli, Thorin, and Bombur) soles are Red Heart in Black and upper is Lion Brand Vanna's Choice in Chocolate

Trousers: Lion Brand Vanna's Choice (Gimli: Burgundy, Thorin: Navy Blue). Bombur: Loops and Threads Impeccable in Charcoal 

Chainmail: (Gimli Only) Big Twist Twinkle in Slate

Thorin's undershirt: Loops and Threads Impeccable in Blue Moon (main body) and Charcoal (sleeves)

Thorin's doublet: Glam Universe Metallic Shine in Pewter

Surcoat: Lion Brand Heartland (Gimli: Badlands, Thorin: Lake Clark, Bombur: Joshua Tree)

Belt buckle:  Lion Brand Heartland (Gimli: Bryce Canyon.) Thorin’s buckle is DOUBLE STRANDED Glam Universe Pewter and Lion Brand Jeans Vintage. Details in the pattern. 

Belt and Bracers: Lion Brand Heartland (Gimli: Sequoia, Thorin: DOUBLE-STRANDED Glam Universe Pewter and Lion Brand Jeans Vintage)

Toe caps: Lion Brand Heartland (Gimli: Bryce Canyon, Thorin: Mammoth Cave)

Gimli's Shoulder Guards: Lion Brand Heartland in Bryce Canyon and Sequoia

Gimli's Cloak: Red Heart Super Saver (Medium Thyme)

Thorin's Overcoat: Lion Brand Heartland in Black Canyon. The border is NICEEC Faux Fur in Coffee

Bombur’s Cheese: Vanna’s Choice in Mustard 

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DK Weight

Skin tones: Premier Everyday DK Solids in Parchment

Hair Base: Premier Everyday DK Solids (Gimli: Terra Cotta, Thorin: Raven)

Hair strands: Gimli: Lion Brand Heartland in Yosemite, Thorin: Lion Brand Jeans in Stovepipe and Vintage

Boots (both): Premier Everyday DK Solids in Black (sole) and Black Walnut (upper) 

Trousers: Premier Everyday DK Solids (Gimli: Boysenberry, Thorin: Raven) 

Gimli's Chainmail: Ice Yarns Rock Star in Silver Gray 

Thorin's undershirt: Premier Everyday DK Solids in Cadet Blue

Thorin's doublet: Glam Universe Metallic Shine in Pewter  

Surcoat: KnitPicks (Gimli: Swish DK in Garnet Heather, Thorin: Shine Sport in Sailor)

Belt: Scheepjes Catona (Gimli: Chocolate, Thorin: Black) 

Belt Buckle: Scheepjes Catona (Gimli: Hazelnut, Thorin: Moon Rock) 

Gimli's Cloak: Premier Everyday DK Solids in Fern Green 

Thorin's Overcoat: Premier Everyday DK Solids in Black, the border is NICEEC Faux Fur in Coffee

----------

Yarn choices from u/princesslokiofasgard (Reddit): Skin: impeccable-heather. Undershirt: Baby bliss-ship blue. Surcoat: heartland-olympic. Belt/bracers/over coat: heartland-black canyon. Fur:go for faux-chow chow. Armor:capri tencel-slate. Silver sparkle thread: aunt lydias metallic 10

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Yarn choices from Gurumiville (IG): Alize Cotton Gold and Yarnart Jeans for body and clothing. Scheepjes River Washed XL for the hair.

[spelacchiotto]

One boot cap is done, the other is on its way ~ It's not perfect, I know, but I'm pretty satisfied since it's my first time working with Worbla

[thorinthehottotty]

Oaksbane - Thorin

A/N: I hope you guys like this as much as I enjoyed writing it. We had a big storm yesterday and a tree fell across our main road.

Summary: Thorin and his nephews are stuck in our world, with you. He gets to see you be a little goofy.

Warnings: Language, bits of fluff

The knocking jarred you from the chair and half that you loved to curl up in. The two boys looked toward their uncle and you in alarm. "Were you expecting someone?" The eldest of your guests asks as you climb out from under the enormous fur baby in your lap that gave a few soft gruffs and squirrels deeper into the chair.

Some guard dog, you are.

Fíli, who always held the remote, paused the television show that you'd all just sat down for. He was the quickest to pick up technology. He had a knack for it.

You shake your head at Thorin's question and move to the door, drawing the sweatshirt around yourself more firmly. Thunder cracked loudly. "Not in this weather, for sure." Opening the door, you spot a familiar face and pull it wider. "Jonathan? Why are you soaked?" You demand. Sure enough, your old friend was dripping head to toe in a tee shirt, working pants and boots. Water dripped from the end of his nose and his mouth hung open as he pants, squinting into the dark.

"It's wet outside," he replied dryly.

"No shit. Where's your truck?" You demand.

"Left it up the road. You were closest. Tree fell. Got an axe?"

"Let me grab my boots, I'll do you one better." You reply, snagging a ball cap from the shelf above the coat rack next to the door. "Want a jacket?" You ask as the boys all begin to collect their own boots and jackets.

"Nah, I'm already warm. It's not too bad out." The humid air that spills in around Jonathan, proving that this truly was a late spring thunderstorm.

"Have you contacted the road commission yet?" You ask.

"Nah, you're my first stop. My phone's dead." Jonathan casts a curious glance at the men behind you as you slip into some heavy boots.

"You guys don't have to come," you assure.

"How big is this tree?" Thorin asks. That's a fair point. Extra hands might help, and from past experience, these 'dwarves' were unnaturally strong.

"Big enough."

You slip out the door and onto the front porch, pulling on a jacket as you go. Jonathan falls in stride next to you as you make your way through the heavy rain drops.

"Where were you headed?" You ask as you thumb through contacts for the road commission, trying and failing not to get the screen wet as everyone files into the barn.

"Kendall Fairlan's," Jonathan gives you a cheeky grin and you roll your eyes at him.

"You're braving the storm to get some?" You scoff, dragging the axe off the wall and tossing it to him. His grin widens.

"Don't tell me your still jealous of her."

"Hah! Whoever told you I was in the first place was lying to you." You spot the bright orange chainsaw and move towards it while you find the number your looking for. The dwarves linger near the doors, casting curious glances at the man they'd never met.

"Fair enough, it looks like you've got your own secret family, anyhow." Jonathan gestures to your boys. The youngest are grinning at their uncle who looks far less amused.

"Un-fucking-believable."

"What?"

"The road commission closed half an hour ago." You shake your head before nodding to the dwarves. "That's Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, by the way. They're staying with me for a bit." You give the vague explanation as you wrench on the ripcord. The motor sputters and dies, but it does sputter! You try a couple more times before it takes. "Hell yeah. Alright, let's get started."

"You look a little too eager," Jonathan teases and you all move towards the vehicle. "Thanks for the hand."

"Are you kidding me?" You demand from him as you all head towards the truck, the windows are fogged from the humidity as everyone climbs into it. "I get to destroy some shit. I'm in." Jonathan chuckles and you don't miss the amused smirk Thorin gives you. The engine roars to life.

"Head north." Jonathan instructs and twists around to the back seat. "I'm Jonathan. Nice to meet ya'll." Turning onto the road, the cold engine makes extra noise as you force it faster up the road. You were looking forward to this. It wasn't fair, maybe a thousand yards, to your delight. Pulling off to the side, you turn the hazards on.

"Doesn't look like lightning, you can see the split up there." You point toward the mature oak that split nearly twenty feet in the air. It wasn't the entire tree but it was a sizeable branch. Probably a couple thousand pounds by the look of it. Everyone files out when you park, the air heavy with rain and humidity still. Thunder and lightning were still cracking above.

"Maybe we should wait."

"No way. This is the main road that leads to the hospital. It needs to be cleared for emergencies."

"We've got a tornado watch out, maybe you should head back." Instead of answering Jonathan you step forward, roaring the chainsaw back to life with an effective pull. You move towards the tree, and your chainsaw snarls as you cut through some of the smaller limbs to be fin with. The blades a bit dull but it will do the trick well enough to get you through to the main branch.

You hear a heavy thwack and glance to see Thorin swinging the axe down on a thick limb. It's a clean cut. You glance back to see an impressed look on your friend's face. "Ey, shit for brains, I thought you were gonna help me with this shit?" You tease.

"If the guy wants to do it, he can do it." You roll your eyes but wink at Thorin when he pauses to make sure your not upset at him for doing this. The branches are pulled away by the other three. You set to work near the center, hoping to be able to push each side out of the way. Cars had begun to pull up and wait on either side. Some folks did 'U-turns' early on.

Getting close to slicing all the way through, the chain started sparking and you cursed as you struggled with the last leg of it. You kicked at the joint, hoping it would be enough to break it free. It was not.

Thorin's rich chuckle came from next to you. He repeated your blow twice and had more effective results than you. "Son of a bitch!" You call, shoving at him. "A little more and I would have had it!" He grins down at you and pecks your temple. He looked handsome in the rain. His. Long hair clung to his cheeks, his eyelashes extra dark from the rain that dripped from them and droplets twisted over the contours of his face.

"Of course you would have." Your jaw drops at him and his eyes twinkle in mischief. You could see where his nephews got their wild charms.

"Okay, Sassy. Get to work then." He move toward one last branch and you get to see his drenched form twist gracefully. It's delicious to watch.

On a completely unrelated note, perhaps a wood burning stove would be a good investment. He orders his nephews over and the all too easily power drive the log off into the ditch on the side of the road. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. What are you feeding them?"

"They eat like wolves, Jon, like wolves." The answer has him laughing as all three boys stand back off. "Speaking of, you totally owe them dinner for tomorrow night." You reply.

"You got that right. You guys were an enormous help!" Your old friend pats your shoulder as they push the other side like butter on a plate.

"Fuck, that's sexy," you sigh, shaking your head.

"What?" The laugh from beside you earns a sharp blow from your elbow and he grunts as another clap of thunder echos, softer than the others.

"Yo, go screw Kendall for fucks sake," you snap.

"You did not just say 'yo'. Which one of those tiny powerhouses are you taking your chances with?"

"You better walk before I whoop your ass." You use the two fingers twisting between you both to signify you're watching him before glancing and waving people through.

"Pft please. As if you could take me." You whip around, the all too familiar feel of your childhood friend, the one you used to beat on when you were younger rising back.

"Fíli! Come direct traffic!" You shout, striding back toward Jonathan. Thorin arches a brow in surprise as your friend tilts his head back to laugh at you and takes a defensive stance.

"Y/N," Thorin calls over the waning rain.

"Relax she won't actually hit m- FUCK!" He shouts, jerking back from soft punch you gave his face. His hand flies up to check for blood for half a second. There is none. Then he's turning and sprinting into the brush, scrambling to hop the wire fence into the feild.

"GET BACK HERE, COWARD! TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!" You shout, setting the chainsaw up onto the hood of the car. Fíli and Kíli are laughing as you run into the brush and hurdle the rusted wire yourself, running after him through the mud. You didn't miss Thorin chuckling a bit himself. Maybe you wanted to impress him a bit, but the mix of rain and the excitement of the fallen tree has spurred you on.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!" Jonathan cries as he books it through the mud.

You slam all too quickly into his back and you both go down in the mud. "I yield! I yield!"

"THERE IS NO YIELDING!" You shout. The both of you struggling for a foothold in the muck. Finally, while you're still attached to his back, he manages to climb to his feet.

"Alright! Let me square up at least!" You climb down and step back, the both of you squaring off, panting and you grin at half his face being covered in mud. You dodge when he lunges for you and stumble through the mud.

As you square up again, he lunges a second time and you move fast enough to counter. You draw your foot up and he grunts as he flies down and onto his back. "Was that a fucking Spartan kick? Fuck!"

"THIS! IS! SPARTA!" You tease as he flops down in the mud. You hold a hand out for him and help him to his feet. "Now, come on you wuss. You've got a da-" you let out a squeal as someone else scoops you up from behind.

"Where was that kick when we were kicking apart the tree?" Thorin rumbles and you twist to look back at him with a grin.

"What are you talking about? That was all me!" You complain. You feel his hot chest move as he laughs. He actually had steam rising from his shoulders and head as it lightens to a drizzle. You didn't try to fight your way from his arms because the heat of him, wet or not, was nearly euphoric.

"Was it now?" He asks as you laugh.

"Oh yeah, didn't you see me swing the axe once to cut through the tree," Thorin snorts at you and shakes his head.

"Come on, Oaksbane. You're freezing."

"Oaksbane, I could get used to that." Jonathan trots along side where you are being dragged away, all too happily to have the dwarf king's hand around yours.

"Thanks for all your help, Thorin, is it?" Your friend asks.

"Aye." Thorin offers, a little more sternly toward your friend, not stopping as you all climb over the fence again and back toward where the boys are waiting with big ol' grins.

"I've probably freaked Kendall out enough so I'll head her way. I'll see you guys around."

"Bye, bitch boy!" You call.

"Bye, you asshole!"

The four of you stumble in the front door, laughing merrily. As you kick off your boots. Fíli and Kíli retreat quickly to the guest room for dry clothes and you don't miss Thorin drawing his wet shirt off and tossing it out the front door and onto the porch. You get an eyeful of his tattoos and chest hair that you couldn't see through the shirt.

He pauses to look back at your drenched form and arch an eyebrow at your smirk. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," you offer. He rolls his eyes at you and steps forward to lean over you.

"Go get changed." You give him a flirty grin.

"Maybe you can come help me," you say, pulling off your hat to hang it and you wet and muddy jacket by the door. Thorin shakes his head at you and snatches your chin up.

"What's gotten into you?" He asks but it's clear its rhetorical when he delivers a fast and firm kiss to your lips. You'd say it's too quick for you you to enjoy, but how can you not. "Go get changed," he repeats.

"Okay," you squeak out, cheeks pooling with heat before slipping down the hallway. You didn't see the big goofy grin he had on his face too.

Taglist: @tomisbaeholland @fizzyxcustard @dumbassunderthemountain @dabisburntnut @queenofmankind @daisy-picking-lady

[mithrilhearts]

The sneak peek everyone has been waiting for!! @stardryad​ and I are ALMOST ready to unleash the first chapter of our highly anticipated fic...

....WDSB (The Onion)

No, that’s not the name of the fic, but we’re going to let you guys sit and simmer on this a little bit more. 

Under the cut you’ll find a small glimpse of what we’ve spent a good deal of time working on, but do remember that sneak peeks are subject to change!! We hope you enjoy our little teaser and can’t wait to show you the rest!! 

Check out this awesome art by Star to get us even more excited!!

BONUS: Let us know what you think the fic title acronym stands for! 😂

Both hands soon clutched at the arms of that stone throne, knuckles white beneath the regalia, and a scowl that could rival the snow itself with how chilling it was. “You ask me to feed them hope where there is none simply by appearance alone, it is a cruel thing, Balin,” Thorin growled, moving to pop the crown from his head as a visible act of defiance, not only to the holiday but to his title as King Under the Mountain. 

Bitter as he was, Thorin wasn’t going to deny one pleading shade for a simple task, regardless of how it struck at his heart as being painful. “I will do as you ask, but I am not staying, nor am I acting as a superior.” Which explained the crown being placed on the arm of the throne. 

“That is all I ask,” Balin gave a cordial bow in the face of frustration, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been snapped at, and he doubted it would be the last. “Just don’t dash anyone’s hopes along the stone should they present you with good tidings.” 

All Thorin could present was a grunt and his eyes shut once more, dismissing Balin with a wave before resting his chin atop a closed fist yet again. A few moments and he would honor his word, just as he did each and every time through a painful mask.

The moments of silence ticked by, the room feeling just as cold and empty as it did even when Balin was present. It mattered little how many of those shades entered the room, the feeling always remained the same. “Another year, another celebration of failure,” Thorin muttered to himself, disdain coloring his tone as his features seemed to sharpen and sour. “When will it end?” Sadly, eternity was the only option for him, and despite his misery in watching these memories of people who once were whole pass him by, he could not abandon them to dissipate into nothingness. 

The only reason Thorin remained here was to preserve what little fond memories he had. 

That jaw of his tightened, nearly shaking from the force at the thought, and with a quick huff, he was on his feet and making for the Hall of Kings that always hosted these parties. 

Thorin could hear the echo of his metal capped boots scraping against smooth stone, an unwanted sound that contrasted terribly against the festive and joyous hoots and hollers from within that great hall. Thankfully, the gut-twisting sound of metal against stone was drowned out upon his entry. The vague scent of food wafted through the air, songs were being sung, and more eyes landed on Thorin than he wished. 

“Oi! There he is!” Bofur called cheerfully, a stein in his hand and raising it proudly, not even bothered by the sloshing of shadow-produced ale that tipped out of one side. “Thought you might have gotten lost on your way here.”

Thorin just let a small breath of mild amusement escape his lips in response, forcing the corners of his mouth upwards, but the expression never met his eyes. “You get lost in your own mountain one time and they never let you hear the end of it.”

“It was twice, if I remember correctly, Thorin dear,” Dis’ voice was like a breath of fresh air after having been stuck in such a stagnant room for far too long. Melodic and soothing, but that was how she always had been. A comfort among the chaos. While she couldn’t hook her arm through Thorin’s as desired, she did drift and remain as close as possible, dropping her voice to a whisper for a few words meant just for Thorin. “Balin always has had some magical way with words when it comes to you, I see that hasn’t changed.” 

“He’s wise beyond even my years,” Thorin sighed, not letting his eyes roam too much to the faces of those who were trying to enjoy themselves. It didn’t mean much when you couldn’t truly lock eyes with someone when you could simply see through them. “Besides, I’d hate to disappoint anyone, even if it is an outrageous holiday you all have concocted. I’ll play along, as I always do.”

[xtruss]

The Shetland Dog Models Whose Photoshoots Can Stop Traffic

— By Ken Banks | BBC Scotland North East Reporter

Kaylee Garrick's canine photoshoots can stop traffic in Shetland - and the fame of her very obedient dogs has now spread across the globe.

The 29-year-old student paramedic has trained her pets to pose together for a range of eye-catching images.

She has seven regular models - Shetland sheepdogs Fenton, Thiago, Thorin, Gimli, Murphy and Jara, and an Alaskan Klee Kai called Ghost.

They are sometimes joined by Fjana, who is owned by Kaylee's mother.

The popularity of their pictures grew through social media, and has now helped raised thousands of pounds for charity.

Kaylee, from Scalloway, has been taking photos of dogs since she was 10 years old, back when pictures had to be developed.

She said it "came naturally" because her first dog, Flint, was "so handsome against the Shetland background".

However, when Flint died from bone cancer in 2007, Kaylee put her camera down and stopped taking photographs.

That changed after a friend suggested she should look at a litter of puppies in 2011. She fell in love with Fenton, who remains one of her star models - and her love of photography was also rekindled.

"It took off again. The camera just seemed to follow my hand," she said.

"For the next few years we just kept adding more dogs and photos.

"With social media, using Facebook and Instagram, it became even more of a thing. The world went nuts for Shetland sheepdogs on Shetland."

Kaylee said she started receiving more and more requests for pictures.

"We originally used it to promote Shetland. People have come here just to see the dogs.

"I had a couple from Australia recognise us. It was crazy."

Kaylee said the photos then started getting "stranger" over the years as she started using costumes.

In one, they are wearing caps and waistcoats in a look inspired by the television show Peaky Blinders.

Kaylee said that while the backgrounds of some images have been touched up for artistic effect, the poses struck by her dogs are real.

She said the secret of their obedience was "trust and confidence".

"They are obsessed with their ball, so we use positive reinforcement - they get rewarded for good behaviour.

"They are trained to pose, I line them up, say 'wait', get the camera out, take the photo, say 'good dogs' then throw their ball. It does not take long at all, as they are so used to it.

"However, you can get a lot of people coming up to you, so that can take a bit longer - one photo, where they were in the street wearing bright boots, caused a traffic jam.

"People were taking photos themselves, then I noticed all the cars stopping."

Kaylee produced a charity calendar for 2020 after being "pestered" by people asking if she would do one.

She thought a print run of 250 would be enough, but it quickly sold out and copies have been sent all over Europe, America, Canada, New Zealand and Australia.

The calendar has raised £2,000 for the The Ambulance Staff Charity (Tasc) and Bravehound, which provides training and dogs to support veterans.

Kaylee, who works as an ambulance technician, said she also used her photos in the back of the ambulance to calm down patients.

"I take my phone out and show them my dogs and they forget they are in an ambulance," she said.

"Their blood pressure goes down and they start smiling.

"And children respond well to it. Turning it into making people laugh has made it more quirky."

[shockcity]

Bagginshield #14 - in a fairytale

Rating: M Summary: for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Detective Inspector Durin has been trying to put Smaug behind bars for years, but something almost…supernatural keeps getting in the way. Bilbo Baggins has been running since he was a kid, but no matter where he goes he can’t escape his curse. Maybe they can help each other. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/Magical Realism. Part I

Also on ao3

Note: So this is one of those urban magical realism fics. Bilbo is a magical busker and Thorin is a hard boiled detective who’s gonna find out magic is real and then try to arrest it!!!! Amazing!!

There’s elements of Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, King Arthur, Rumpelstiltskin (and like so many more, holy shit) in this story. It’s basically an extravaganza of fairytale tropes. It was also really fun to write my dudes, so I hope it’s fun to read! ♡

A nervous sweat ran down the side of his face as he watched Smaug idly tap his fingers on the metal table. He wasn’t even listening to their questions, and he certainly wasn’t falling for Ori’s innocent act or Dwalin’s (usually effective) bad cop routine. All the bastard did was give the two detectives a slimy smirk, and remain stubbornly and infuriatingly silent.

“…fact that you were found in the back of the club, Mr. Smaug, and no one can say where you were at the time of the murder…” Ori was saying, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

The door to the interrogation room burst open.

“My client has nothing to say to you,” Thranduil announced, looking as haughty as ever. “And seeing as you’re not charging him with anything, I think we’ll be leaving now.”

Thorin cursed viciously. “Thorin!” Balin called out, but he was already tearing out of the surveillance room and barging through the door.

“You want to explain the blood we found all over him when we brought him in, Oropher?” he growled, ignoring Dwalin’s warning glance. “Or how about the fucking head we found in the car boot – ”

“Which you found without my client’s permission to search!” Thranduil snapped.

“And really, Thorin, it’s time to let the severed head go,” Smaug said, looking from his lawyer to Thorin, and then leaning back and crossing one leg over the other – like he owned the place. “I haven’t the faintest idea how it got there, nor whom it belonged to. Perhaps I never will…one of life’s mysteries, I suppose.”

Smaug was laughing at him, and Thorin was having to count to ten in his head. Calm, he thought, remain calm.  

Thranduil scoffed. “What’s not a mystery is the gross injustice the Met continues to inflict upon my client. In fact, we’ve decided to file a harassment suit – ”

“Now, Mr. Oropher,” Balin objected, standing behind Thorin with a grim expression on his face. “We’re just trying to do our jobs. Someone has died – ”

“I can’t see how it concerns me,” Smaug said flippantly. “I can’t be blamed for every murder that comes across your desk, Chief Inspector, which is something your Detective doesn’t seem to understand. But then again, loss makes us do the craziest things….”

Fuck it.

Thorin threw himself at Smaug and in one fell swoop he ruined their investigation, gave Thranduil ample evidence for his lawsuit, and demoted himself back to sergeant. Balin later said he was lucky he wasn’t fired.

“Take this time to reconsider things,” Balin told him. His old friend may have given him a cup of tea and a sympathetic shoulder, but he was still Thorin’s boss, and Thorin’s behavior had been a problem for a while now. “Work the beat for a couple of months. Try and remember why you wanted to be a cop in the first place.”

Thorin licked his lips, gazing down at his now cold tea. “I know why,” he said, after a moment of silence.

He looked up and met Balin’s eyes. “I wanted to get scum like Smaug off the streets. And I can’t. I can’t, Balin. Something is wrong here. There’s evidence just disappearing…no one ever sees anything…and let’s not forget that his fingerprints were on the murder weapon! He killed one of our own for god’s sake!”

“Thorin….”

“He killed my father.” He was breathing hard; desperately trying to hold back the angry tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. “He killed him. And no one will help me prove it.”

“Roads go ever ever on, over rock and under tree, by caves where never sun has shone, by streams that never find the sea…." 

He plucked the often played melody and sang the next verse with a passion. This was his favorite song, after all, and his very last one of the day. He’d made nearly fifteen pound off it once.

"Over snow by winter sown, and through the merry flowers of June, over grass and over stone, and under mountains in the moon….”

Bilbo glanced up at the crowd as he sang, checking for yawns or frowns, but all he saw was smiling tourists and a few rambunctious children running about. It was a cold day in Trafalgar Square, and it looked as though it was about to get even colder and wetter. He watched the dark clouds swirl ominously for a moment, before he turned his gaze back to his audience. It was then that he saw the eyes.

Stunned, he messed up the next chord and quickly forgot his lyrics. He gaped for a moment, fear rising and threatening to paralyze him, but somehow he managed to press on – this time with more urgency.

“Under cloud and under star, yet feet that wandering have gone, turn at last to home afar.”

Obediently, one by one, the crowd began to leave. They floated away as if in a dream; forgetting the music, and forgetting Bilbo.

All but one.

“Eyes that fire and sword have seen, and horror in the halls of stone,” he sang desperately. “Look at last on meadows green, and trees and hills they long have known.” 1

Everyone was looking away now, paying Bilbo no mind as the music focused their attention elsewhere. But still those eyes were watching, and he nearly tripped over the last verse as he hurriedly added:

Think you’ll find me no you won’t! Now you see me, now you don’t.

And then he disappeared.

The huntsman looked around for him frantically, pushing through the oblivious crowd, but Bilbo had already gathered up his guitar and money-filled cap and was sprinting out of the square. The nearest tube station was Charing Cross, and he would make it if he ran like the dickens, but when he looked back he saw that the huntsman had caught on and was heading in Bilbo’s direction with frankly supernatural speed.

Goblin.

Bilbo panted as he reached the stairwell and hopped down the steps two at a time. He heard a sudden shout as his pursuer violently shoved bystanders out of the way, but he didn’t dare stop to help. He crashed into the ticket gates and hurriedly reached into his pocket for his Oyster card. Then he realized what he was doing and jumped over it, cursing himself all the while.

Down the tunnel he ran, breathing hard and then gasping with relief when he saw the crowds waiting for the train. He slipped in among them, glancing at the clock and then behind him. He saw the huntsman walking slowly down the platform, peering at people closely. Bilbo tried to catch his breath, staying quiet and still between a man in a suit and an old woman holding her shopping. He kept his head down.

Then a whisper:

So sworn does the oathkeeper, forever pursue the oathbreaker. Show me. 2

Bilbo gasped as his spell broke and the man beside him startled at his sudden appearance. Now visible, the huntsman had no problem spotting him, and he lunged for Bilbo without concern for the people around him. The old woman fell to the ground as Bilbo was tackled, the momentum pushing them both toward the edge of the platform.

“Oi! Break it up, there!”

Bilbo scrabbled at his attacker’s clawing hands, trying to buck the man off of him. He straddled Bilbo and lifted his head up by his clothes, before slamming Bilbo’s skull into the ground forcefully. His vision blurred for a moment.

“Hey, stop!” someone yelled, moving to grab at the huntsman, but he paid the hands no mind and instead drew his fist back for a punch. Bilbo’s eyes widened. He knew that that punch could kill him. If the goblin used his full strength….

No, he thought, gathering his power. He squeezed his eyes shut and quickly murmured,

Goodbye, goodbye I’ve had enough, Shifting, lifting, off and up!

The huntsman flew straight up into the air, hovered for a moment – and then dropped like a stone. Bilbo rolled away and the man hit the edge of the platform, before flipping onto the tracks with sickening crunch. Then Bilbo heard the train.

He pulled back from the edge just in time, saving himself from decapitation, and gazed in shock at where the huntsman had once been. For a moment he heard nothing, saw nothing – the shock was too great. Then he was suddenly forced onto his belly, and the world abruptly came back into focus.

People were screaming, some were pointing accusingly at Bilbo. “He pushed him! I saw it!”

The one time I wish they’d seen, he groaned internally, but he didn’t have time to sulk. Someone was digging their knee into his back and twisting his arms behind him. Ah. He was being arrested. Bother, Bilbo thought, and sighed as he was dragged away.

“Name?”

“….Underhill. Bill Underhill.”

“Okay, Mr. Underhill,” said Thorin, not believing him for a second. “Date of birth?”

“September 22nd, 1989.”

“Right,” he muttered, bored of this already. “Address?”

The man said nothing. Thorin raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“Well,” he mumbled, fidgeting. “I haven’t…got one.”

Thorin took him in properly then, for a moment setting aside the ‘suspected murderer’ part of his first impression. The man looked a bit ragged, true, though he was loads cleaner than the other drifters Thorin had met on the beat.

His hair was full of riotous auburn curls, which were covered by a maroon knit cap that had seen better days. His mustard yellow cardigan and white shirt seemed clean enough, but his blue jeans and boots were rather well-worn. He was short and a little bit plumper than most homeless people, and his dark blue eyes were bright and clear (so no drugs then).

His little nose was turned up, and he bit at his chapped lips nervously while Thorin rudely stared. He was quite lovely, really…which sort of just made the incident even more suspicious.

“You don’t look hard up,” he pointed out, gazing into Bilbo’s eyes and giving him the 'I will find out what you’ve done eventually, so make it easier on yourself and start talking’ look.

“Well, um, I’m more of an…adventurer, of sorts.”

Thorin made face. “You what?”

The man struggled to find words for what he meant, and Thorin checked his eyes again but really didn’t think there was drugs involved. Strange.

“What I mean is, I’m a bit like a nomad. I, um, don’t like being in one place for too long.” He shrugged one shoulder and smiled nervously.

“Right.” Thorin rolled his eyes.

Sensing his disdain (smart lad), he raised his chin defensively.

“Not all who wander are lost,” he said.

Thorin scowled. “What are you some modern day hippie?”

“What? No…” he muttered, frowning. “It’s meant to be philosophical.”

Thorin gave him a look and shook his head, before doggedly moving on. The station bustled around him, and occasionally the man would rattle his cuffs as he answered Thorin’s questions (though for all his chattiness he never said much of anything). Thorin finally finished the standard paperwork and focused all of his attention on Bilbo with a sigh.

“Right. What was all that, then?”

The man blinked. “You mean…at the station?”

Thorin didn’t have to say anything, his expression was answer enough.

“Oh, ok, that’s a yes then,” he mumbled, picking at his cardigan. Then he took a breath. “What happened was…I was waiting for the train, and, um, this man, he, um – for some reason he thought, well, uh, I don’t know what he thought. But he attacked me! It was like he just went mad. Um. I didn’t push him in front of the train, I swear! He just sort of…fell…that…way? Um.”

Everything in him said that this man was not a murderer. He wasn’t sure what exactly the man was, but a killer? He’d be very surprised.

Thorin was tired of this case already. He wished he had been looking when the victim had been pushed; wished he’d witnessed the murder (or possible accident) so that talking extensively with this woeful creature wouldn’t be necessary.

“I’ve got four witnesses that say you pushed him.”

“I didn’t!” the man denied loudly. “Please, you’ve got to believe me! I didn’t push him. He just fell over the side. It must have been some sort of freak accident.”

Thorin stared at him a moment more and then set his report aside. He scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Alright,” he said, getting to his feet and taking the man with him. "Let’s go.”

“Can I leave then?” the man asked hopefully.

Instead of answering Thorin took him over to the custody sergeant. “Aww, who’s this then?” said Bofur, smiling at their detainee.

“One for the suite, Bof.”

He followed Bofur into custody as Mr. Underhill suddenly seemed to realize he was in loads of trouble.

“Oh, but I can’t stay!” he protested, as if they’d asked him to stay for dinner. “Please! I have to leave!”

Bofur tsked. “Sorry, mate,” he said as he lead him into the cell. He slid it shut and glanced at Thorin. “What’s he in for?”

Thorin rubbed his temples. “Murder.”

“I didn’t kill anyone! Okay, well…not really,” the man denied, distractedly following Bofur’s directions to put his hands out to be uncuffed. “But you don’t understand! I can’t stay here! They’ll find me. They’ll find me and kill me and then they’ll kill you too. Please, you have to let me out!”

“Cute but bonkers,” Bofur said, shaking his head mournfully. He and Thorin made their way out of custody and left the cell behind.

“Please come back! I can’t stay here! Please!” the man begged, but soon there was no one there to hear him.

Thorin rolled his neck, using one hand to massage his aching shoulders. It was just past eleven, and he and a few unlucky newbies were the only people on duty. He blew out a long breath and looked down at his paperwork despondently.

“Work the beat, he says,” Thorin muttered under his breath, reluctantly taking up his pen again. “Remember your past, blah blah blah….”

There was a sudden loud crash.

Thorin’s head popped up, and he looked around for the source of the noise. Nothing. And nobody had reacted to the sound at all. He couldn’t be that tired, could he?

Thump.

No, that was definitely real. He got to his feet. “Ori,” he said. “You hear that?”

Ori didn’t even look away from his computer. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled. “That chinese I had for lunch was a bit suspect.”

“No, I meant – ”

Bang! Thwap!

“That!” Thorin shouted. He pointed in the direction it came from. “You take the front! I’ll check the back.”

He grabbed his seldom used gun and ran off before Ori could respond, creeping down the hallway and listening intently. Thorin stopped when he saw a pile of broken glass, and looked up to where the small, barred window pane had shattered, letting in the rainwater. Bewildered, Thorin moved into the next hall, gun first, eyes swinging from side to side. That’s when he noticed it; the door that lead to the custody suites was wide open.

Clang! A roar, loud and long and completely hair-raising, echoed down the hall.

Thorin burst into the room, pointing his gun toward the noise, and saw just about the largest man he’d ever seen lurking in front of the cells.

“Christ,” he breathed, before shaking off his shock. “On your knees!” he yelled. “Hands up!”

But the large man only roared…and then charged at him. Thorin panicked, his finger somehow unable to pull the trigger, but thankfully a voice cried out before he was bowled over by the mad giant.

If you can’t be nice make like ice!

It was suddenly freezing. Thorin gasped as the giant man stopped as if put on pause, and ice – thick white chunks of it – crawled up his legs almost too fast to see.

He was frozen solid in seconds.

“Oh bother,” said a voice from inside the cell. Thorin gaped at the man in the yellow cardigan. “Of course you saw that.”

“Bit hard to miss,” he squeaked.

The man sighed. “You’d be surprised,” he said, before tapping the lock on his cell pointedly. “Bolg will have brought his pack with him. We need to go.”

Thorin blinked, looking from the frozen man to his prisoner, who was calmly peering out at him from behind the bars.

“You’re mental,” he decided, and then wondered if he was mental too. Everyone. Everyone was mental.

The man sighed again. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said to Thorin. “I hate breaking the law normally, but needs must.”

Inside outside woe is me I’ve done no wrong now set me free!

“Pardon?” Thorin asked, but was shocked into silence when the bars to the cell slid open. The man stepped out and hurriedly made his way over, and Thorin didn’t even think to point his gun at him he was so flummoxed.

The man peered up at him for a second, a bit concerned. “Are you alright?” he inquired, but when Thorin said nothing he huffed and shook his head. “Never mind. Of course you’re not. We need to go. Do you know where my guitar is?”

“I….y-yes?” he stuttered.

He grabbed Thorin’s hand and moved quickly out of the holding cell. “Where to, then?” he asked.

But Thorin had regained his senses. Once he was away from the giant frozen man things seemed much clearer. Go figure.

“Wait, no,” he said, waving a hand sternly. “We’re not going anywhere. You – you are going to tell me what is happening. Like what – what…that was, and how…how.”

“We haven’t the time!” the man insisted. “We have to go – ”

Crash! Thud! Another roar, but this time when one ended, another began. There were multiple attackers now.

“Ok, we really have to go,” the man groaned. He grabbed Thorin’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip and tugged him down the hall. “First my guitar, though!”

Thorin muttered a few refusals at first but obediently stopped them when they passed booking. At the man’s prodding he swung the door open, and there the guitar sat beside Bofur’s empty desk chair, unharmed.

The man snatched it up as growls (growls!) echoed through the station, rumbling like thunder and causing all of Thorin’s hairs to stand up. They hurried out of the room and down the hall, making their way to the exit. They had to cross the bullpen to get out, and Thorin couldn’t help but pause as he saw an oblivious Ori still toiling away at his desk.

“What is he – ?”

“No time!”

He heard the growl again and saw a figure standing across the room, its eyes glowing red and fixed upon them. Ori didn’t even look up.

“Why can’t he see – ?”

“Go! Now!”

The man lunged toward them, crashing into one of the desks as they raced out of the doors and into the soaked street, taking off at full speed in no direction in particular. As they ran, Thorin saw his companion click open his guitar case and fumble with the straps on his instrument.  

“Are you mad?!” Thorin shouted, but there was no time for explanations. The man in the yellow cardigan grabbed his hand and lead him to an empty side street before stopping entirely.

“This is not good,” Thorin found himself babbling. “Strategically, this is complete bollocks. Oh god, what are you doing now?!”

The man dropped his guitar case onto the ground, fixing the instrument around his shoulders. He held a pick in his teeth as he adjusted his cap, then took it out of his mouth and started to play.

It was then that the growls caught up with them. Thorin gaped as three hulking figures skulked down the alleyway, sounding absurdly enough like a pack of wolves. His heart beat out of control as they prowled closer, and then it nearly beat out of his chest entirely as he caught a glimpse of their faces under the streetlight. They were growing…fur?

“Wh–what, why…dogs?”

The man shook his head grimly. “Wargs,” he corrected, as if that made any sense at all. “Get behind me.”

Thorin blindly obeyed. He had no clue what was happening. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The music got a bit louder, and the intricate fingering began to slow. Then suddenly, the man took a breath and started to sing:

“Down the swift dark stream you go Back to lands you once did know! Leave the halls and caverns deep, Leave the northern mountains steep, Where the forest wide and dim Stoops in shadow grey and grim!" 

Thorin watched as the three men halted slowly, as if frightened of coming closer.

"Float beyond the world of trees Out into the whispering breeze, Past the rushes, past the reeds, Past the marsh’s waving weeds, Through the mist that riseth white Up from mere and pool at night!”

There was something strange happening, something…unnatural. Thorin looked down at the surface drains, gaping when he saw the water bubbling up far too quickly. The big men seemed to notice it too, and they growled and began to sprint forward. Thorin raised his gun.

“Down the swift dark stream you go!”

The water now spilled out at an impossible rate – rushing around his feet. It was moving by some invisible hand away from Thorin and toward their attackers in a roaring black wave. The music suddenly peaked, and the man in the yellow cardigan shouted rather than sang:

“Back to lands you once did know!” 3

The sky thundered as the wall of water loomed above them. It came from nowhere, everywhere, somewhere – and crashed into the pack of men. For a moment Thorin could see nothing, but as the flood gradually dissipated, Thorin stared open mouthed at where their attackers used to be.

“How…?” he whispered, unable to form a coherent thought.

The man hummed, looking at the mouth of the alley thoughtfully. Then he turned and peered up at Thorin, seeming quite unruffled.

“Hungry?” he asked companionably.

Thorin stared.

“….you could be a spotter, but I’m honestly not so sure. There’s something odd about you. Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to consult someone. Are you sure you’ve never Seen before? You’re a bit old to have only just noticed us now.”

Bilbo, and this was the real name of the man in the yellow cardigan, smiled at him in what he probably thought was a comforting manner and then licked a bit of vinegar off of his thumb.

“You should eat,” Bilbo told him. “I’m always starved after singing, especially when I’m wordsmithing, and greasy food is always the best, isn’t it?” He waved a piece of fried fish in the air. “Good for magic and hangovers.”

“Magic,” Thorin said weakly. He swallowed and looked down at his untouched food. “This can’t be real.”

Bilbo frowned at him, his eyes bright with concern. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news…but it’s real.”

He took a steadying breath and counted down from ten, and when he reached one he managed to look at Bilbo properly. “So, what? You’re from…Narnia? Hogwarts?”

Bilbo gave him a confused look. “I’m from Dorset,” he said.

“Right.” Another deep breath. “Right.

"Look.” Bilbo put his fish down and wiped his fingers on his napkin. “I’m not the best person to explain all of this to you. I don’t even know if I can.”

Thorin glared at him. “Can’t you try?”

Bilbo scratched his forehead. “Yeah, alright, fine…uh, I guess we’ll start with what I am, and what I think you are.”

Suddenly conscious of the people around them, even in the relative anonymity of a crowded pub, Thorin leaned across the table and whispered, “you mean I’m like you?”

Bilbo leaned back a bit. “Good lord, no,” he laughed. “And you don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us. They can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they’re normal they won’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary,” he explained with a shrug. “No one really knows why. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to see. Maybe they just can’t. Only two types of people can see magic. People like me, who are magic, and people like you, who are called spotters.”

Thorin rolled the term around in his head for a moment. “Spotters?”

“Means you can spot magic,” said Bilbo, pointing a chip at him before eating it in one bite. “Sometimes even better than magicals. Spotters are dead useful.”

“Okay. Fine. Spotter.” He shook his head a little. “And what about you?”

Bilbo grinned. “I’m a minstrel! And a good one, if you couldn’t tell.”

He thought back on the frozen man, the unlocked cell, and the wall of water. “Ha,” he said, voice a bit high. “Right.”

“It was strange, actually. My mother was an apothecary, that means she was like a herbalist, you know. She could make all sorts of medicines and treat loads of diseases. She was pretty amazing. Then there was my father, who was bloomer, and they grow plants and things and that, and it was no wonder they got married, because apothecaries and bloomers are obviously well-matched, but their offspring should have taken after either of them, but instead they got me!”

Thorin blinked, trying hard to keep up.

“I was a surprise, that’s for sure. There’s not many minstrels about, only two in England, actually. There’s more of the others though, like speakeasies – they can speak any language and talk to animals! My friend Beorn is one – and tricksters, who aren’t that bad, really. Shameless opportunists, sure, but not evil or anything.”

“What about the men that were chasing us?” he cut Bilbo off. “They looked like….”

He didn’t want to say dogs. Dogs weren’t scary like that. Dogs didn’t make him feel like dinner.

“Wolves?” Bilbo provided helpfully. “They’re called Wargs, and I suppose for normals the equivalent would be werewolves.”

“Werewolves,” he repeated numbly.

Bilbo looked sympathetic. “Yeah, sorry.” He reached for his untouched pint and glanced from his glass to Thorin’s blank face. Then he slid it over to Thorin, who took it gratefully.

Bilbo went back to his chips. “We actually call Wargs and these things called goblins 'huntsmen’, because that’s all they do – they just hunt. And everyone, magic or normal, is their prey.”

Thorin drank his beer and then blew out an angry breath. “They can’t go around murdering people!” he said through gritted teeth.

Bilbo shrugged. “No one can really control them.”

“You don’t have…I don’t know, a government? Magic police?”

Bilbo stared at him a bit uncertainly, as if thinking about how much he should say.

“Detective,” he began, eventually. “I don’t think you understand. There’s only something like three hundred of us in the UK. Even less in other places. See, I’m what they call a fourth generation, because I’m the fourth generation of magicals in a family. Our kind have only been around for a few hundred years.”

“What?” Thorin shook his head. “How is that possible? Did you all fall into a vat of radioactive chemicals or something?”

Bilbo cracked a smile. “Afraid not,” he said, and then he turned serious again. “Something happened…a long time ago, that…wiped us all out, I guess. No one knows what it was. There’s no literature about it, no recorded history – nothing. We were just gone. But then one day we all started coming back – and we’re still in the process of coming back. And while we’re still so new, I’m afraid we’ve been making things up as we go along. We honestly haven’t had time to form a government or police.”

“Yes, but surely you must have some sort of interim leader?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Nope.”

He digested that for a moment, finishing off his pint and picking at his chips a bit. He saw Bilbo eye them longingly and slid the basket over, sitting back and watching the man eat.

There was no way he could pass this all off as the ramblings of a madman. For one, Bilbo seemed intelligent and sensible, if a bit eccentric. For another, Thorin had pinched the hell out of his arm and still hadn’t woken up. This was no dream, and he had definitely seen something that looked a lot like magic.

He suddenly frowned. “The huntsmen,” he said, watching as Bilbo stiffened. “Why were they hunting you?”

The man fidgeted a bit, twisting his napkin until it broken apart. “Well, there’s this calamity – ”

“Sorry, a what?”

Bilbo made an apologetic face. “Oh, right, um, a calamity,” he repeated. “They’re like the…evil overlords of all us magicals.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said you didn’t have a leader.”

“They’re not our leaders, they’re our enemies,” Bilbo scoffed, before narrowing his eyes at Thorin. “They can be mutually exclusive, you know.”

Thorin agreed with a nod, waving Bilbo on.

“So, there’s this calamity, a dragon, to be exact, who thinks I stole something from him, which I did not, but will he listen to reason? No. All I know is that he got into a row with my mum one day, and then we had to leave and basically wander around so he couldn’t find us again. And then a couple months ago I came back to England, and all of the sudden I’m being hounded, no pun intended, day and night by huntsman working for Smaug!”

Thorin froze. “What did you say?” he whispered.

Bilbo scowled. “Well I’m not going to repeat everything I just said! It was a lot – ”

“No, no…Smaug. You said Smaug.”

“Yes, the dragon. Smaug. You know him?” Bilbo leaned across the table and put his hand on Thorin’s arm. His eyes were wide and worried. “Detective, do you know him? You shouldn’t know him.”

“I shouldn’t?”

Bilbo gave a wry, humorless smile. “No one should,” he said. “Can I ask how?”

Thorin stared at this man who seemed so sincerely concerned for him. “He killed my father,” he revealed in an undertone, his chest hurting. “He killed him.”

Bilbo didn’t look skeptical, or like he thought Thorin was crazy…nor did he look surprised.

“Yes,” he murmured instead. “That I can believe.”

“I’ll get you some extra blankets,” said Thorin, moving over to the cupboard and rummaging around. He handed them off to Bilbo somewhat awkwardly, watching as the man took off his boots and cardigan, yawning widely.

He looked at Thorin with one eye, his mouth turned up. “You alright?” he inquired, something mischievous flashing in his expression.

Thorin blushed. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t…normally have guests.”

“Well, I’m not your guest, am I?” Bilbo pointed out, laying down on Thorin’s couch and snuggling into a pillow. “I’m your new partner!”

Unamused, Thorin shook his head and turned the living room light off. “I already have a partner.”

“But I’m your magical one,” Bilbo insisted, yawning again. “And we’re going to take down Smaug together.”

In the dim light of the hallway, Thorin watched from the open door as Bilbo’s eyes grew heavier and heavier, until he gently fell fast asleep.

This had to have been the strangest day of his life.

And yet….

Something like hope was stirring in his chest. It had taken a while for him to recognize the feeling for what it was, because it had simply been too long since he’d felt anything but dark despair.

He didn’t know if he believed him – this weirdo in a yellow cardigan that had turned his whole world upside down; that had ripped apart Thorin’s carefully constructed reality and had thrown him headlong into this dangerous new world.

But he wanted to, because no matter how dangerous or crazy it all seemed…Thorin had never felt better.

Bilbo was waiting for Thorin to catch up, his keen eyes watchful as they lingered at the bus stop. Thorin finished buying their coffees and they moved on, both a bit paranoid but at least for good reason.

“You’re sure this guy can help us? You sounded hesitant about him before.”

Bilbo side-eyed him as they trotted down the street. “You picked up on that?”

Thorin smirked. “Detective, remember?”

“Right.” Bilbo took a long sip of his coffee. “I’m not…hesitant, exactly,” he said. “Gandalf is an old friend of my mother’s. He actually helped us escape Smaug when I was a child, so he’s been a good friend and ally to us.” He shook his head. “I just don’t want him to be disappointed in me, is all. I only just returned to England a few months ago, and I’ve already been causing trouble.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “If he knows you that well then he should already be prepared for it,” he commented idly, ignoring the dirty look Bilbo sent him. “Is he like you? Is he, uh, a musician magician?”

Bilbo snorted. “Musician magician?” he mocked in good humor, before shaking his head. “No, he’s not like me. He’s…well. He’s just…uh, Gandalf.”

“Just A Gandalf?”

“No, um.” He scratched his head. “I suppose if I had to give it a name I’d say he’s a bit like a wizard.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you ever asked him?”

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, somewhat defensively. “And he told me to mind my own business and threatened to turn me into a frog.”

Thorin’s expression was a bit alarmed. “Can he do that?”

“No idea, but I wasn’t about to try asking again. I mean who just goes around kissing frogs? Not someone I’d want to marry….”

Though Bilbo’s description of Gandalf the (supposed) wizard left much to be desired, Thorin still followed the man down High Street; trusting in Bilbo’s judge of character for reasons unknown.

Which…was honestly rather alarming, if he really thought about it. Thorin had even skived off work that morning and had hopped onto a bus to Peckham without thinking about what he was doing or just whom he was trusting. He didn’t even know Bilbo. What on earth was he doing here? Generally, even?

But there wasn’t time for an existential crisis, because they had arrived at their destination.

“Curiosities and Antiques,” he read out loud, looking up at the sign above the little shop. “The wizard lives here? You’re joking.”

“No,” Bilbo frowned, pushing the door open which set off a little bell. “Why?”

“It’s just so obvious,” he muttered. “Though at least it’s not a pub. Or a phone booth.”

His companion only rolled his eyes and waved him inside. Books and old artifacts were stacked haphazardly on the floor and sitting atop dusty shelves. Grubby furniture was piled everywhere, all gorgeously vintage, though most of it was broken. Thorin spied a collection of clocks ticking away in the corner, and a very strange looking plant that he was pretty sure was gnawing on something. Possibly gingerbread, judging by the crumbs scattered around its pot.

Bilbo marched up to the counter and looked around, moving papers and things aside. Suddenly a tiny snout emerged from underneath an ancient textbook, and Thorin startled.

“Hello, Sebastian,” Bilbo greeted the hedgehog. And…of course there was a hedgehog. Of course Bilbo was talking to it. Because why the hell not? “Is Gandalf here?”

There was a sudden crash and Bilbo and Thorin looked up at the ceiling.

“…mushrooms! Last time you ended up in a volcano!” someone was shouting.

“Now, now,” said another, calmer, voice, but the rest of what he replied was too soft to make out.

“Oh good,” Bilbo said cheerfully. He patted Sebastian on the head. “GANDALF!” he suddenly bellowed at the ceiling. “GAND–oh! Radagast!”

A very strange looking man was eyeing them from the stairwell. He looked not in the least bit sane or reliable, and Thorin really hoped this wasn’t Gandalf.

“He’ll be down in a moment,” said the man, and his head disappeared.

“Thanks, Gasty!”

Barely a minute later an old fellow in a large grey robe came clattering down the stairs, his very tall hat hitting the ceiling but somehow managing to stay on his head. He had a long silver beard, sharp blue eyes, and a big stick with some sort of stone on the end.

“What the hell,” Thorin mumbled.

“Bilbo, my boy!” Gandalf greeted, opening his arms so that Bilbo could fly into them for a hug. “It’s very good to see you. Though perhaps not under these circumstances. You’re in a spot of trouble, I see.”

Bilbo moved back, staring up at Gandalf sheepishly. “Just a bit,” he lied. “We were hoping we could hide out here for a little while. Maybe ask your advice.”

“We? Oh.” The old man peered at Thorin curiously. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Detective Inspector Durin,” Bilbo explained, waving a hand in Thorin’s direction. “He arrested me!”

“Durin, you say?”

Thorin frowned in confusion as Gandalf narrowed his eyes, his jaw working as if he were tasting the name on his tongue. “Hmm.”

Bilbo looked from Thorin to Gandalf. “He’s weird, isn’t he? I thought he was weird.”

Gandalf finally stopped examining him and smiled down at Bilbo, patting his shoulder.

“I imagine we have many things to talk about,” he said. “Come upstairs, Radagast has made tea. It might even be palatable, but who knows? Best feed it to the plants.”

They sat around a small table covered with old parchment paper, some of which seemed permanently stuck there by spilled…something. Thorin refrained from putting his hands anywhere, and instead folded them in his lap as Bilbo looked into his teacup curiously.

“Well, now,” said the old man, putting down the kettle. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Smaug,” Bilbo told him succinctly, setting his cup down with a clank. “He’s killed Thorin’s father!”

Thorin jolted, feeling strange at hearing it said aloud and with such certainty. No one had truly believed him before, and he was just now realizing that Bilbo had been the first.

Gandalf, however, looked shocked. “Thrain is dead?” he said.

And just like that, Thorin’s world was upended again. How did….?

“You knew my father?” he asked, leaning over the table to stare into Gandalf’s eyes.

The old man nodded solemnly. “I did, yes. A good man he was too.”

“How did you know him?”

Gandalf sighed a little, his expression reserved but sympathetic. “Most of our kind know of him. Or of your ancestors, I should say. Have you not heard of Durin the Deathless?”

Bilbo suddenly gasped, sitting up in his chair excitedly. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking at Thorin. “You’re one of those Durins! That’s what I was sensing!”

He shook his head, confused. “I’m a what?”

“A Durin, or of Durin’s folk. You are a descendent of an old clan of warriors that were charged with the protection of our kind,” Gandalf explained. “Long ago a King, then called Deathless, watched over all magical peoples, while also specializing in the extermination and removal of calamities.”

“Apparently your ancestors defeated a great beast, but Durin the first died in battle,” continued Bilbo, his eyes bright. “They buried him in a secret place, hidden from all their enemies, until 'an heir so like to his Forefather that he received the name of Durin’ returned. Or at least, that’s what the legend says.” 4

“Yes, the resurrected king.” Gandalf folded his hands on the table, looking at Thorin intently. “The tale of Durin the Deathless is one of our only surviving histories, though many do not believe that it is true. Thrain sought to prove that his family’s legacy was no fairy story. The last I spoke with him, he was intent on finding the axe to serve as evidence.”

“The axe?”

“Durin’s axe,” said Bilbo. “It’s said to be lodged in stone, and only Durin’s heir can draw it out, and that the one who wields its power would then become king.”

Thorin blinked. “But that’s ridiculous.”

“Most things are,” Gandalf agreed. “But that does not mean they are not important. And this, Thorin Durin, is very important…if defeating Smaug is truly your aim.”

He sat back, mulling over Gandalf’s frankly insane tale. His father was…magical? And alright, he could accept that. But did that mean Thorin had magic? What about Dís? His little nephews? What danger would they be in, if Thorin were to pursue this?

“Smaug killed my father,” he said, thinking hard. “Why?”

“Because he’s evil,” Bilbo piped up, and then turned to Gandalf and became very serious. “He wants the axe, doesn’t he?”

Gandalf nodded. “It’s very likely. Smaug’s one desire is power; he hoards it, and will do anything to attain it. Our kind is not governed by anyone, nor have we chosen a leader. Smaug intends to take control of our people, and he’s unlikely to stop there….”

“World domination,” Bilbo extrapolated. “Very unoriginal, if you ask me.”

Thorin ran a hand down his face, a bit overwhelmed. “How can we stop him?” he asked, looking from Bilbo to Gandalf.

“You’ll have to finish what your father started,” the old man replied solemnly. “We will need to find the axe, and should you accept your birthright, you may use its power to defeat him once and for all.”

“But I don’t know where it is!” Thorin cried.

“Perhaps your father’s possessions will shed some light on the matter,” Gandalf theorized. “Do you have them still?”

Thorin calmed and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, they’re at my family’s old house. His things haven’t been touched. We didn’t know if we were going to sell it or not….”

Gandalf smiled widely, before rising to his feet. “Splendid! Let’s go.”

“What?” Thorin frowned. “Now?”

“Of course!” The wizard grabbed up his staff and adjusted his hat. “We haven’t much time to waste, I’m afraid. Bilbo’s return to England has quite literally awoken the beast. Smaug will be looking to make his move any day now, and we must stop him before that happens.”

This all sounded very vague to Thorin, and he was smart enough to realize that the wizard was omitting quite a lot of information, but he agreed that time was running out for taking action. Something anxious and afraid was bubbling in the pit of his stomach, warning him that things were about to come to a head – and Thorin didn’t feel anywhere near ready. That would change, though, with their first step toward winning this battle, which was looking into the legacy of Thorin’s ancestors – a legacy that he’d known nothing about.

The house Thorin had grown up in was neither too big nor too small, but just right for a family of five. Thorin opened the door and let Gandalf and Bilbo in, quickly shoving a few boxes out of the way as he lead them to the kitchen.

“I don’t know where to look,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a bit of a mess, and well…father wasn’t the most organized person.”

“I knew Thrain well enough. Perhaps you have an attic? Or a cellar?”

He frowned. “We have a cellar, yes, it’s over here.” He went to the door beside the refrigerator and opened it, and then quickly moved out of the way as Gandalf bustled past him and down the stairs – Bilbo trotting after him.

Rolling his eyes at their strangeness, Thorin entered the cellar and immediately sneezed. It was dark and dusty, and nobody (or so he thought) had been down there in years. He went to flick on the light but Bilbo waved a hand at him.

“No light!” he said. “Come see this.”

Thorin walked over and looked at what they were examining so intently. “It’s my grandfather’s puzzle box,” he explained. “We could never open it, or solve his stupid riddle.”

“Riddle?” Bilbo pressed curiously. “I like riddles! Go on, then.”

Thorin smiled a little at his enthusiasm. “Alright. A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid,” he recited.

But Bilbo looked disappointed. “But that’s an easy one,” he sulked. “It’s an egg.”

Well it wasn’t easy to me, he thought grumpily. “Maybe that’s the secret password,” he suggested.

“Egg?” said Bilbo. “No, see? It didn’t open. But I bet I could rustle something up.”

Gandalf hummed with approval and set the box down, waving for Bilbo to get on with it. Bilbo took a breath and said:

Eggs in a box, o’ riddle king. Unlock your locks quit riddling!

Nothing happened.

“But…but…!” Bilbo looked at them both, his mouth slack with shock. “My words always work!”

“Hmm,” said Gandalf, staring at the puzzle box thoughtfully. “Curious. Perhaps Thorin is the key – ”

“What could I do?” Thorin blurted, frowning at the old man. “I’m not magical! Cast a spell at it! Aren’t you a wizard?”

Bilbo turned and sliced a hand across his neck, mouthing 'bad idea!’ at him.

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at Thorin and straightened up to his full height. “I am Gandalf,” he intoned haughtily. “And Gandalf means – ”

A loud crash sounded from upstairs, and all of three of them froze.

“Expecting visitors?” asked Bilbo in an undertone.

Thorin kept his eyes on the entrance to the cellar. “Nope.”

Bilbo made a long-suffering noise in the back of his throat and swung his guitar around, pick at the ready. “Sorry about your house,” he said, ignoring the panicked look Thorin threw at him. “But needs must.”

Then he began to strum.

The night had grown cold.

“Gasty,” called Bilbo, clasping his hands together pleadingly. “Please let us in!”

The strange man, Radagast, opened the door a smidgen. “What’s all over your clothes?”

“Um.” Bilbo carefully did not look at Thorin. “A house?”

Radagast frowned suspiciously. “Where’s Gandalf?”

“On his way. Can we come in? Please please please?”

The door swung open and the bell went off, and he and Bilbo pushed their way inside. They immediately locked the door behind them.

“We’ll be safe here,” Bilbo said with a sigh.

Thorin didn’t reply, and instead focused on brushing the plaster off of his clothes. When he saw that Bilbo was about to say something to him, Thorin asked where the bathroom was and retreated before he could try and apologize for the mess they’d made of Thorin’s home (and his life, in general).

He turned the light on in the loo and closed the door, before leaning against it tiredly. He pressed his fingers to his eyes and took a deep breath.

Thorin wasn’t really mad at Bilbo, or Gandalf for that matter. His house would need repairs (a lot of repairs) of course, but they had escaped with their lives and unscathed to boot. Thorin had seen too many unlucky sods, dead or worse, in his line of work to be angry about the loss of material things. But that man….

“Durin,” growled the giant creature. He was pale and scarred, and his teeth were sharpened to little points. His clear eyes gazed down at Thorin with amusement. “After you get me what I want, I will kill you slowly.”

Thorin raised his gun.

“Like I did your father.”

He shot, and shot and shot and shot, but his chamber was soon empty and the man was still unmarked. It was like he didn’t bleed.

The next thing he knew, Bilbo was standing in front of him, shouting, and the giant man was thrown through the wall. They turned to run….

He wasn’t sure what happened after that. His head was too full of questions. Thorin had thought that Smaug had killed his father, but what if that wasn’t true? What if Thorin had another, unseen enemy? And someone just as dangerous as Smaug?

“Thorin,” Bilbo called through the door, knocking thrice. “Gandalf’s back.”

He inhaled again, deep as he could, and turned to wash his hands and face. Bilbo was waiting anxiously outside the loo when he emerged.

“Alright, let’s see what this box is about,” said Thorin, again cutting off Bilbo’s string of apologies.

“It looks like it’s supposed to twist open, but it’s jammed,” Radagast was saying. He was wiggling his finger into a little ridge on the side of the box.

“Hey, that wasn’t there before!” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Perhaps it was your egg spell,” Thorin joked, as sort of a peace offering.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and nudged Thorin in the side, but he looked pleased.

“Hmm.” Gandalf rubbed his chin as he inspected the box. “Did your grandfather give you more than one riddle?”

Thorin frowned. “No – wait, maybe…. It’s not much of one, but he used to say it often. ’Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.’ Whatever that means.”

“Hmm,” said Gandalf.

“Interesting,” Bilbo nodded.

“Ugh,” Radagast said with an eye roll. He grabbed the box and put it in the window. “Conveniently enough, it’s sunset,” he explained as if they were all exceptionally stupid.

It took a moment, but then the box began to glow.

“There!” Bilbo cried out, pointing at the hole that had suddenly appeared.

“Can we unlock it?” Thorin asked excitedly.

“We haven’t got a key!” Bilbo reminded him.

“But we do have a burglar of sorts,” Gandalf suggested, his eyes bright with amusement. They all turned to look at Bilbo.

“What? I’m not a burglar!” Bilbo protested. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

“Escape artist then,” Thorin said, dragging Bilbo over to the window. “Right. Go on. Open sesame.”

Bilbo scowled at him, but turned his attention to the box. He gazed at the key-hole thoughtfully for a moment, before saying:

Inside outside, won’t you be free? Silly box of riddles open sesame!

He sent Thorin a cheeky grin just as they all heard the lock click. Thorin reached out and lifted the lid.

“That’s…it?” said Bilbo, peering down at what was definitely a folded up map.

Thorin blinked at it before lifting it out of the box. He unfolded it carefully, for the paper was very old and delicate, and laid it out on Radagast’s messy counter.

“How strange!” Bilbo exclaimed. “None of these places exist. Gondor…Mordor? Suppose they’re ancient countries or something?”

“Or they’re just fictional,” Thorin grumbled. “This could be a bloody map of Westeros for all we know.”

Radagast tutted at them and Gandalf shoed Thorin’s hands off the map. “Your father used this map to find the ancient weapon of his ancestors. Of your ancestors.”

“But how do you know that he found it?” asked Bilbo.

“Because of this.” Gandalf held up a small white square. It was a business card. “It was also in the box. And I should say that it was not Thrain that found the axe in the end…rather Smaug did.”

The address on the card was for some warehouse in Millwall, which meant absolutely nothing to Thorin. Until he remembered.

“He owns property in Canary Wharf,” Thorin murmured. “We searched one of his warehouses once. We didn’t find anything.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows knowingly. “That’s because you didn’t know what you were looking for,” he said.

End Part I

Go to Part II

[not-easily-brxken]

Cleaning out stuff again! Before I go to the trouble of putting it on ebay, letgo, or asking somebody to post it on the costume circles of the Face Book™ I thought I'd see if anybody here was interested in any of it. Looking for homes for: Thorin Oakenshield from The Hobbit (coat with fur collar, undertunic, wig, boots, individual armor-scale casts) $60 for all obo Loki from The Avengers (Yes, sadly, coat, jerkin, tunic, Tesseract prop with lights, RESINCAST HELMET originally made my sithcamaro, wig) Costume + wig $90, helmet $60. Tesseract to whoever gets either and wants it. 

Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians (just the sweatshirt) $10 obo (and yes as you can see by the picture I ship Jarida woot) The Lutece Twins from Bioshock Infinite (partial WIP - matching jackets, skirt/pants, green ties, wig for Robert - Arda wig Cady, lacefront, bright auburn, never worn) all clothing pieces 30$, wig $25 2 woochie bald caps, high quality, unopened - $10 for both

Hmu for more pics, sizes, or other specs. All prices are 100% negotiable.