#thorin stonehelm

[pilkypills]

Thorin III Stonehelm daughter of Dáin

[2shuang]

[Thorin Stonehelm/Fili/Kili] [Billy/Mitchell/Anders] Dynasty

relationship: Thorin Stonehelm→Fili, Fili/Kili, Billy/Anders/Mitchell

Warning: Ben Barnes as Thorin Stonehelm, multi, r18

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[basil--and--sage]

first hc that comes to mind for each dwarf. no second thoughts only first ones allowed

anyways kili ate rocks as a kid! (i've seen some people call dwarflings pebbles. fili made fun of him for cannibalism for a bit)

"anyways kili ate rocks as a kid" <- lmaoooo, new favourite headcanon! I saw him more as an earthworm eater, but rocks work, too, lol. And Fíli making fun of him, what a menace.

Alright, headcanons under the cut! Some are inspired by my fic, some are not. The whole thing also got longer than expected 🙈

Thorin:

As soon as he leaves the house, he is magnificent. At home, though, he's the epitome of a middle-aged uncle. Wearing ratty slippers and a wife beater, losing his reading glasses, snoring like an ogre, having weird aches, grunting and coughing in the morning, falling asleep everywhere, etc.

Fíli:

He's quite different from the rest of the family, since he's the shortest, the only one with light hair, and also lacks the Durin temper (except when Kíli insists on getting on his nerves). As a younger Dwarrow this tends to make him self-conscious, but his calm and level-headed disposition will make him a great king later in life.

Kíli:

Kíli is a lot more intelligent and observant than people give him credit for. When he was younger, he was really hurt and offended by other people's opinion of him, but as a young adult he learned to use it to his advantage to either weasel out of unpleasant duties or to learn about things he isn't supposed to know.

Fíli & Kíli (they get an extra one together):

It's always 50/50 how it will go with these two. On the one hand, Kíli looks up to his older brother and can be downright clingy, while Fíli looks after his younger brother and sees it as his duty to keep Kíli as cheerful as he is. They look out for each other, have a lot of shared interests, love spending time with each other and always have each other's back, so don't pick a fight with one of them, unless you are willing to deal with both of them.

On the other hand, Fíli chases Kíli at least once per week around armed with a slipper, while Kíli routinely threatens to throw Fíli, the shorter one of the two, into a pond or down the Dwarven equivalent of a garbage chute (and attempts to do so). About one or two times per year they have an awful row including screaming, crying and throwing things. Though, as soon as somebody tries intervene, they turn against the poor fool as a unit. After some pouting they are back to being the epitome of best friends and caring brothers. At least until the slipper emerges again.

Dís:

She has the driest humour and most of the times her older brother is her target. She teases him all the time. During her lads' childhood she also liked to feign sleep, whenever they went on a rampage, and let her sweating brother deal with it. Her best friend is Glóin's wife (in my fic she is called Máris) and they tell each other the most outrageous stories.

Balin:

He likes to tease his little brother Dwalin and tweaks his nose at least once per day, not even slightly bothered by Dwalin's murderous look. He's about 40 years older than Dwalin and actually a mix between father and older brother to him.

Dwalin:

He looks tough, but is a softie, if he likes someone. He also loves children and regretted snapping at Bain, after he came to realize, how young he still was. So he went and apologized.

He also likes to give nicknames to people. He calls Fíli nugget, since the one time somebody called the lad a vein of gold due to his hair colour, and let's be honest, the lad is more on the smaller side. Kíli is dumpling, since that one time he (over)ate a bunch of them. Gimli is dandelion, because his hair looked like a (red) mature dandelion as a toddler and so on. As soon as he's tipsy, he calls everyone sugar or sweetheart. Still, no one dares to mess with him.

Óin:

Completely unfazed, all the time. He also pretends to have lost his ear trumpet, whenever he doesn't want to get dragged into a discussion.

Glóin:

A hot head, who loves to argue about everything, mostly with Thorin, as soon as they have an ale or two too much. Then they discuss, until their heads are red, before they slap each other jovially on the back and promise to meet up more often from now on.

Dori:

He is very proper, has excellent manners, and also quite the short fuse. If you don't behave he will read you the riot act in the most devastating manner. As a tailor, he also knows no mercy, when people are dressed in an unflattering way, though he is more than willing to help, since he has excellent taste.

Nori:

After the reclamation of Erebor he turns into a phantom. No one, except for the company, has ever seen Nori or can tell what he looks like. Though, maybe be careful what kind of secrets you spill in front of the servant, he might listen more closely than you think. (What can I say, I just love Nori as a spymaster)

Ori:

He's a sweetheart and also incredible awkward around children. Hand him a baby and he will freeze, until you take it back. He is also surprisingly cunning and thus an appreciated member of the court after the reclamation of Erebor.

Bombur:

He doesn't talk much, but when he does, it usually holds water. He gives very solid advice. He's also not only a fast runner, but also a skilful dancer and no one is able to hold a candle to him in regard to stamina on the dance floor.

Bofur:

He's very nice, but he also lacks a little tact and so he sometimes gives out the most devastating back-handed compliments, completely unintentional. No one can make you cry like Bofur, since he's such a sweetheart. Though, he gets better over the years and no one is ever truly angry at him, because he owns up his mistakes and gives the most honest and heartfelt apologies.

Bifur:

He's very caring. You have a bad day? Bifur might not have the right words for you, but he will look after you and when you come home, you'll find a little something in your pocket, maybe a snack, a trinket or a slightly crushed flower. After the Battle of Five Armies and losing the axehead, for a few years he wears hats to protect the wound. Bofur has the time of his life picking them out for his cousin.

Dáin:

Fíli and Kíli call him uncle Piggy and he has a whole troop of pigs. The cuter the name, the more dangerous the pig. So, you may go and pet The Devastator, but stay clear of Little Amethyst, since she will bite your fingers off.

Dáin's son Thorin III Stonehelm:

Thorin's biggest fan. He might hyperventilate as soon as they make eye contact, which is quite surprising, since he's otherwise known to be a steadfast lad, despite his young age. Though, witnessing Thorin's uncle mode for the first time, helps a lot with that.

Did I miss a Dwarf?

Thanks for the ask! This was fun :)

[sillylotrpolls]

69.3% of voters (nice) think Legolas is definitely a third-age Elf, perhaps 2,000 or 3,000 years old, which is probably about as much consensus as is possible given the lack of canon details we have for our little green leaf.

Meanwhile, 9.4% of you think it's more likely he's a time traveler, which, okay. I would have side-eyed that a few months ago, but have recently discovered a surprising penchant for "Legolas and/or Gimli go back in time to prevent Thorin from fucking up too badly" fics, so why not?

This was a great poll for people to share their headcanons, and if you haven't already I really recommend checking the notes. Some good stuff in there, and it seems the more you know about LotR lore the more fun it is to slot Legolas into the most apocalyptic scenes.

(No relevant reading below the poll because lol, there is none. There are a couple notes though.)

As Elrond only seemed to record birthdays for Elves and Men he was closely related to, Legolas' age is a matter of some debate. (We also have no idea how old Thranduil is, or Glorfindel, or Haldir, or...) The "official" age quoted is from a movie guide that presumably did not have a lot of oversight and definitely was not based on anything in Tolkien's extended canon, but you can certainly go with it if you want to.

For comparison, Elrond's sons Elladan and Elrohir are 2,889 at the end of Return of the King, and Arwen is 2,778.

[mirielsart]

May I suggest an alternate, more unhinged Fellowship of the Ring?

From left to right:

- Halbarad (the normal one, very underrated)

- Lady Dis (has been carrying a grudge for a very long time)

- Tauriel (I love her, and I want her to go on a nice roadtrip with her mother-in-law)

- Prince Imrahil (I just think he's neat)

- Cirdan the Shipwright (too old for this shit, parents the others, will probably go on rampage at some point)

- Grimbeorn the Old (looks like they could kill you, is actually a cinammon roll)

- Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (will see the manager and kick his arse)

- Farmer Maggot (keeper of the single braincell, secretly the most dangerous of the lot)

- Radagast (has no idea what is going on, is just along for the ride, has the same abilities as Snow-White in Shrek)

Now, please, do tell me how that trainwreck goes. One thing I know for sure is that they're all smoking weed by the time they reach the gates of Moria.

Other contenders I thought to include but didn't : Tom Bombadil, Goldberry, Beregond, Glorfindel, Faramir, Rosie Cotto, Fatty Bolger, Elladan and Elrohir, Thorin Stonehelm, Gwaihir.

[aspenrockymountainhigh]

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠

After the coronation of Aragorn, Gimli said farewell to his old friend Éomer, who begged for pardon as to his words on Galadriel, though he added that he still didn’t think she was the fairest in the world. When he added that he considered Arwen the fairest instead, Gimli was content with this.

During the return journey he visited many places with Legolas, including Fangorn Forest and Aglarond. Eventually he returned to Erebor, to find it nearly devastated by war.

Dáin II Ironfoot had died, and Thorin III Stonehelm was now King. Eventually, though, he returned to the Glittering Caves with a contingent of dwarves, becoming the "Lord of the Glittering Caves". He rebuilt the gates of Minas Tirith with mithril and steel, and in both Gondor and Rohan accomplished great works. There he met his friends Merry and Pippin and the history of his people made its way to the Red Book; he also set out the genealogical tree of the Dwarves of Erebor for King Elessar.

In Aglarond, it is assumed, he lived on until he was old, and in Fo.A. 120 he sailed with Legolas his friend across Belegaer to Valinor, becoming the first and only Dwarf to do so.

•Art by Ted Nasmith.

[coopsgirl]

This day in Middle Earth history: March 27, TA 3019

Bard II and Thorin III Stonehelm drive the enemy from Dale.

[ragsweas]

"I... I can try." The Stonehelm glanced from Dís to his father several times, before he lowered his head. "I don't know, 'adad. I'm not as wise as you. I'm not a hero, not like the Dwarrow who was my namesake. I've been a negotiator and a warrior and a smith, but I don't know how to be a King."

"No-one does," murmured Thrór. "It's something you learn on the job, nidoy. You'll see."

"A hero?" Thorin said, taken aback. "What?"

....

THORIN YOU DUMBASS

[kayzthespaze]

Guys. Guys. Dís just crowned a king. Named thorin. And it wasn’t her brother. can you imagine? That moment, when you have to declare this person as your king and they bear the same name as another you once called king. But more than that, the name belonged to someone you called “brother” one you grew up with, one who you followed after losing your home, and your family, and who stepped up when you lost the one you loved, who helped you raise your children, and who died beside them, after reclaiming that same home you once lost. Its all come full circle, shes lost everyone, and this must feel like a replacement to her, like a dishonoring of her brother, to proclaim “Hail! King Thorin!” Thorin. thorin. thorin.

In the halls which he reclaimed but never got to see rebuilt or returned to glory, the kingdom he fought for and intended for her sons to inherit. How much must that hurt to be the one to give it to another.

“For who else here knows the weight and cost of it better than you?” Thorin stonehelm says and hes right. She has lost her entire family to that crown, to that duty, to that cost. Her life has been buried in its weight, even after she gave up her opportunity to inherit it. She knows the weight that crown bears, it is heavier than the whole mountain to her, and still she keeps on through the grief and weight and the pain. She led the dwarves of the blue mountains as they journeyed back to erebor even though she would never be their queen, even knowing that her sons and her brother were dead.

And now here she stands, crowning a king with that brother’s name, after fighting alongside his father, her cousin, and watching him fall. And now just after that, she must say her brothers name as she hails a new king. The most difficult words shes ever spoken, and she bites through them, because as dain says; “there’s no one else left,”

[i-am-pinkie]

And here in 2024 we have new chapters and a promise of finishing this delightful au; Fili and Kili are naive in the ways of court life, Fili is cautious of causing disharmony, Kili is emotionally challenged while Cousin Thorin Stonehelm is a right little shit! Go read it! 😀😁

How was Fíli supposed to put into words what he had felt during the dance back in Dale – the realization that Kíli was so much more than the unruly Dwarf he had known all of his life, that he had grown into a fine Dwarf, and that seeing him with Tauriel, and the subsequent pain that washed over him, only served to affirm the mess he was feeling.

Because what he was feeling for Kíli was…was…adoration. A deep-seated love, an all-encompassing and terrifying creature that had devoured him whole, and how long has he been feeling like this? When did this even start? Had he always felt like this but never took the time to realize?

Those feelings did not feel like something that were freshly sprung from the earth like the first spring shoots in Bilbo’s green house. No, they felt like they had been there for much longer, left to germinate and grow and flourish like the wild gardens of Beorn’s dwelling.

— Of Risks and Rewards by Bgtea

This is a WinterFRE2022 prize for @sugarsu. Thank you for all your wonderful art and taking part in our Raffle! I hope you like the set and I'm sorry it comes so late!

[basil--and--sage]

Fic Recs #2

(boosting overlooked fics, which deserve some attention), (part 1)

1) Nomina nuda tenemus by naivesilver

A well-written one shot about a female Thorin III Stonehelm and the consequences of Thorin Oakenshield's life and actions on his namesake. I enjoyed it very much, because I liked the portrayal of the Stonehelm and I've read plenty of fics with people named after someone, but not a lot of fics dealing with the impact on the (younger) namesake, which was very interesting to me.

2) Timshel by grav_ity

As some of you may know, I love Dwalin. And, as it turns out, I also loves rarepairs and here we have one: Dís x Dwalin, with focus on Dís' sons, their paternity and love trying to fit into the rigid structures of royalty. Well-written, touching and something new.

3) Warmth by Moonraykir

An adorable one-shot about a cold Tauriel cuddling up to the wrong brother, but turns out, he doesn't mind. Kíli x Tauriel and Fíli & Tauriel. It's cute and I just love platonic cuddling and bed sharing.

This is it for today. I shall return with more recs in the future.

Short reminder: with #BoostTheHobbitFics we have an own tag for boosting overlooked The Hobbit fics. Except for my own posts, there's not anything there yet, but maybe you have a hidden gem or two in your bookmarks on ao3 and would like to post a few recs of your own :)

[fishfingersandscarves]

thorin to thorin conversation

[shantismurf]

I could especially see this getting started when Thorin Stonehelm comes to visit his cousins 😅

Been thinking about how everyone would call Thorin 'Bilbo's Thorin' and it would start out as a joke, like one day during dinner Kili would jokingly say something along the line of 'He is Bilbo's Thorin now, he gets to choose what Bilbo makes for dinner, not us' and everyone would continue in different setting, only if Thorin or Bilbo is not around. Eventually Bofur who drank too much would say 'Bilbo's Thorin is here!' when Thorin opens the door to join a celebration in the dining hall, and would halt like a deer caught in the light. He would be so angry, yelling at them that they cannot under any circumstances call him that. He is no one's Thorin, if anything, Bilbo is his, not the other way around! But everyone was pretty drunk to care about his disapproval and they would laugh and joke while Balin would try to calm them down unsuccessfully. Thorin practically breathes fire, hands clutched, knuckles white when suddenly Bilbo appears in the door. Unknowingly asks "What's happening?" looking around the Dwarves having the time of their lifes, and Thorin seemingly having a stroke, and that is when the laughter erupts like a volcano. Thorin turns and leaves and Bilbo is standig there like a statue.

"What did you guys do?" Asks the dwarfs but they cant even say a word. Balin is the one telling Bilbo what made Thorin upset, and that he should probably go after him.

'Could you tell him they didn't mean it like that? He would listen to you' and Bilbo would go but on the way to him, he would smile. 'Bilbo's Thorin' mutters under his breath, loving how it sounds.

When he finds Thorin, he is sitting on the stone steps in one of the most solitary part of the castle. Bilbo sits next to him silently.

'Does this make you upset?' he starts uncertain 'That they call us that?'

Thorin would stay silent for a long time. Long enough to make Bilbo angry, and to stand up to leave him alone. But before he disappears Thorin says-

'No' it's silent, but it snaps. Still, he turns back to him, smiling.

'That's good, because I love it'

Thorin's anger dissolves quickly. 'I know' answers.

'Actually I think I love it so much, I want to hear it from you' says Bilbo, crossing his arms. Thorin just shakes his head, looking down shyly.

'Come on, my Thorin' coos Bilbo making him snap his head up in surprise.

'Wh- what?' stutters at the new nickname.

'I said my Thorin' repeats Bilbo, stepping closer and closer to him.

Bilbo stops just inches away from Thorin. In this way they can look into each others eyes, which is so rare, it makes Thorin forget everything, even his own name.

'I...' starts saying.

'No' he said firmly.

Thorin thinks for a second, weights his options, then finally says...

'My Bilbo'

The words roll down from his tongue like the sweetest music.

'Close enough' approves Bilbo. 'Remember this. I want to hear it often.'

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

Dwarrowtober: Family (and maybe Durin's Day)

Balar walked into the wide hallway, the entrance chamber to the palace of Nazbukhrin, and had to do a double take. For the first time for about five years, everyone was here, in one place. It was a modern day miracle.

The Royal Family of Nazbukhrin was far more disparate and widespread than people realised. Somehow, various members of it had managed to travel halfway across Middle-Earth and settle there on more than one occasion, building their lives far from the Eastern dwarven capital. On the major feasting days, and on Durin’s Day in particular, His Majesty King Fara did try and gather together the loose ends of the brood, but like grains of rice spilled out of a cooking pot, there were always a few that missed the sweep for whatever reason. Either they had their own business to attend to, or their own families where they had built their lives. Or, having them in the same room as somebody else had far more… inflammatory results.

Balar settled himself between his father and uncle Hafar. He stuck a finger underneath the rim of his crown and wiped away the sweat that had formed underneath it, feeling acutely uncomfortable. His collar was too high and starched and something was poking him in the small of his back. “How long do we have to sit?” he asked his mother. “Two hours — and we’re coming back over the next week to get it all done!” Queen ‘Rera exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned to him. “Didn’t your father tell you?” The King, who had his own crown resting in his lap, was diligently avoiding looking at him, instead looking straight ahead and pretending to listen to something Akil was saying. “You didn’t tell me it would be two hours!” he said accusingly. The King shrugged. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be two hours.”

Balar slumped back in his chair and looked around idly. Their family really was a melting pot of so many different backgrounds, nations, and personalities. His mother had been a dockworker from an impoverished family, and his maternal grandparents were as far removed from nobility as it was possible to get. His grandfather caught his eye and frowned, checking the chronometer on the wall, as he had been doing every five minutes. Balar grinned and mouthed ‘two hours’ at him, and he rolled his eyes, making a ‘drinking’ motion. Balar nodded. A pint of ice-cold beer and some food was definitely in order as soon as they were freed from the entrance hall. On his right, his uncle sat with a stack of papers balanced on one knee and a pair of slim golden reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. Balar leaned over and read a few of the words — some sort of mining contract, and the words ‘OPAL CONGLOMERATE - CLASSIFIED’ were written in bold at the top of the paper. “You really have to do that now?” asked Sher Ghazali, who was sitting next to their father, the owner of the mining conglomerate that Balar’s uncle was a director of. Hafar yawned and flipped the page. “Li’s not here to paint us yet — Durin’s Day traffic has jammed up all the roads. It took me three hours to get my carriage through this morning.” Sher sighed in annoyance and settled back, resuming their conversation with their father, Akrum Ghazali. They were the newest members of the family, Hafar having only married the billionaire’s son in the Spring. Sher wasn’t as uptight as Balar had once thought, and Sher had worked hard on making an impression at each occasion, determined, Balar knew, to assuage any assumptions that they were a young piece of arm candy. He had been mistaken that the nobledwarf hadn’t had an education — the heir of the Ghazali family was an avid painter and poet, and spoke several Eastern languages fluently and with a confident flair. Sher was dressed in a silver gown which shone like the full moon on a clear night, and their hair reached down to their waist, braided through with matching thread and pale opals. Sher was the only one who wasn’t sweating, it seemed. Balar was sticky; Akil, his elder brother, was mopping his receding hairline with a handkerchief, a large indentation across his forehead where his crown had been (being Crown Prince, it was only slightly less ornate than his father’s); and next to him his wife Sandar glowered, her bright red hair brushed tightly back and her green robes draped heavily over the arms of the chair she sat in.

Balar nudged the back of her chair with his foot and she spun around, as though waiting for the chance to snap at someone. “What?” she hissed, her cheeks flushed and a sheen of moisture dotting her brow. Balar’s youngest nephew coloured a drawing on the floor next to her feet, occasionally tugging on the hem of his mother’s cloak. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he quipped, flexing his arms underneath his much lighter, white cotton fabric shirt. Balar had chosen to wear whatever he wanted, as he usually did. Queen ‘Rera might have bullied the others into looking presentably royal, but Balar knew with smug satisfaction that he’d be the only one sitting here at the end of the two hours not looking like they had been caught out in the middle of a summer storm. “Shut up,” Sandar muttered darkly, after first glancing up at her mother-in-law. Balar grinned and prodded her chair again, and Sandar grabbed his ankle, shoving it away. She was the sister he’d never had, and Balar got on with her the most out of any of the royals who had married in. Her fathers, Prince Khalei Iskbanal and Lord General Âr Baranul, sat together on the far right side of the room. Khalei looked as he usually did, composed and calm, with his legs crossed and his head resting on his husband’s shoulder. He had recently re-joined the Ereborian military as a lecturer in battlefield medicine. After over a hundred years, he’d wanted ‘something to do’, and had taken the opportunity to get back to his roots in the army, where he had first met his husband of one-hundred and forty years. Balar respected him for this, and knew how he must have felt. Neither he nor Balar needed to work. They wanted to, they wanted to make a change in the world around them, to actually use their minds — and Balar knew that if he didn’t do something productive each day he would jump out of his skin with boredom. Âr Baranul was red-faced and haughty, occasionally making a comment to his husband or to Sandar. His broad chest and muscled, meaty arms were crammed inside his military uniform, which he insisted wearing in full, no matter how uncomfortable it was in the heat of the room. Already his bald head was gleaming, the tattoos on his scalp slick with sweat.

The only ones who didn’t really mind the heat were the youngest royals, who sat bickering and joking with each other. His brother’s three oldest children were squabbling about something but he couldn’t really hear what they were talking about — and then Balar saw the letter in his niece’s hand and the embarrassed, yet defiant, expression on her face. She tucked it into her pocket. Ah yes, Balar thought with a smile, the mysterious lover… From the information that Khalei Iskbanal, the purveyor and curator of all sorts of family secrets, had managed to wrangle out of his granddaughter, the dwarf was one year older than Tîril, and in the same coastguard corps as her. His father worked as a sea rescuer, the captain of a crew of hardy dwarves who saved sinking sailors and ships run aground in the Eastern Strait. Khalei had said he’d a suspicion as to who it was, but he, of course, wasn’t telling. Tîril was in her own cadet’s uniform, whereas her older brother and second-in-line, Sigrar, was dressed in robes of a shimmering copper-colour, cinched with a black cummerbund. He was the brains of the outfit, and had transformed from a rude and rambunctious dwarfling to an up-and-coming scholar. Studying abroad in Erebor, in one of the most prestigious private schools, would do that to you, Balar mused. Or maybe it was just part of growing up. Still, Sigrar flashed Balar a mischievous smile and nodded towards the tip of the letter peeking out of his sister’s pocket. “I already read it,” he whispered, raising his eyebrow, and making a face like he wanted to violently vomit.

The door of the entrance chamber opened, and Balar didn’t immediately realise why everyone was suddenly on their feet. He scrambled upwards and bowed a fraction too late as King Thorin Stonehelm and King Varhi Iskbanal entered. Varhi had a large fan clenched in his hand, and his expression was set in its stony-faced frown. Not that Varhi was angry all the time (only most of it) — the deep lines at the corner of his mouth was a permanent fixture. King Varhi of Ghomal, one kingdom over to the North, was the tallest dwarf that Balar had ever laid eyes on, and stood head and shoulders above Balar’s father-in-law, the King of Erebor and Lord of the Iron Hills. It was for Thorin, the youngest of the dwarven kings, that they stood, and King Fara extended his hand graciously, indicating the seat next to Balar. “Welcome, welcome — no, no, you are not late. Of course not. We have only just sat down,” he fussed, striding over in a flurry of golden silk and beckoning the king of Durin’s Folk forwards. Balar bowed as Thorin neared, and he was almost knocked off balance at the clap on his shoulder. “How long have you really been waiting?” muttered the King into Balar’s ear. “About an hour,” Balar said with a wink. Thorin grinned apologetically. “Sorry, took a while getting ready — you wouldn’t believe how much weight I’ve put on. They almost sewed me into my undergarms.” Balar snorted and Thorin took his seat awkwardly beside him, adjusting his crown and heaving his heavy, red axe over his lap. He wielded it with his late father’s strength, the heavy slabs of dark grey armour, customary of his Iron Hills heritage, jutting out to either side. And behind him…

The last member of the family sat down on Balar’s left-hand side. Prince Umir of Erebor grabbed Balar’s hand and squeezed his fingers, placing a swift kiss on his cheek. He smelled of a spiced, woody perfume which he’d dabbed underneath his ears and on the sides of his neck. “Fashionably late,” Balar said. “Naturally — Longbeard time.” They shared a smile as the renowned royal portrait painter, Li, bustled into the room with two assistants in tow, half apologising to the gathering and half berating the poor dwarves who were lugging the equipment.

Very soon, this gaggle of wonderfully dysfunctional dwarves that Balar called his family would be forever immortalised in pigment, and generations after him would wonder at the faces within the frame. Would they know that uncle Hafar spent the night in jail for punching the Lord General Baranul in the nose one Durin’s Day? Or that Khalei Iskbanal had once had an affair with the ringleader of an organised crime gang (who still wrote impassioned love letters from his prison cell)? Or that King Fara had drunkenly confessed to Balar that the queen occasionally wrote sordid stories for a well-known raunchy magazine under a pen-name? Balar sighed and sat up straighter at his mother’s request. These were the gold nuggets of information which would, unfortunately, never see the light of day.

[lesbiankiliel]

BABIES!!!! ALL THE BABIES!!!!

and now I really need eldarion and disith and durin to grow up to be best friends ♥️